"F*** Starfleet"

Flight Officer Lisnaar Adami
Rogue Two

"Heeey, Darlin', you want some company?"

The youthful petty officer looked up at th young Bajoran woman standing beside his table in the Miranda's cantina. He had no idea who she was, but she was quite pretty at least, if a little young... and quite obviously very drunk. She was wearing a very revealing dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He stared for several seconds before stammering out an answer. "Um, I'm flattered, but I'm waiting for my girlfriend."

The Bajoran giggled. "Well, maybe I'll just have a seat right here while you wait." The poor young NCO was mortified when she plopped right down in his lap, and even more so when she yelled for the nearest waiter. "Billy!"

While the aforementioned waited bustled over to the table, she looked at the cute young man who she had dropped in on. "Hi, I'm Adami."

Her companion had no time to respond before 'Billy' arrived. "Flight Officer Lisnaar, you know that the manager said that we're not allowed to serve you anything more. You've already had far too much."

The petty officer's mortifications combined itself with surprise: This lascivious lush was a fighter pilot?!?

Lisnaar Adami pouted, and whined, "But Billy, I'm fiiiine." She ran her hand up his thigh. "Come on, just one more. You know I'll make it up to you later... I promise."

The Waiter closed his eyes, obviously regaining his composure. He pushed her hand away, and very firmly stated, "No; look, why don't you go and sleep it off. You haven't reported for duty in three days."

Lisnaar bit her lip and pushed the waiter away. "Fine. I don't like you anymore." As he left, she turned back to her silent companion. Throwing her leg over his lap, she straddled him, arms wrapped around his neck. "Can you believe him? Telling me to go 'report for duty'?"

When the poor petty officer failed to respond in what she deemed to be a timely manner (a second-and-a-half), she grabbed his drink from the table and downed it in one gulp before continuing. "Screw him. My wingman disappears forever behind enemy lines and they want me to fly their precious fighters and pretend that nothing ever happened. Fuck Starfleet."

The stricken NCO tried again to get her off of him, gently but firmly pushing as he said, "Look, you're very sweet..."

He immediately regretted starting off that way. Lisnaar smiled drunkenly. "Awww, thanks." She promptly expressed her gratitude by forcing her tongue into his mouth.

After he managed to disentangle himself, the petty officer gasped out, "Bug I have a girlfriend, and she's going to be here any moment, so if you don't mind, could you PLEASE get off of me?!?"

Lisnaar pouted again, but made no effort to move. "What, she doesn't want to share? That's very greedy."

Again the Bajoran pilot started to kiss her victim. He was far more reluctant than her previous two, and his reticence was a major turn on for her; she loved a challenge.

While the petty officer was trying to extricate himself from her, something happened to increase his mortification to new and unfathomable levels.

His girlfriend arrived/.

It didn't really take her any time at all to find him. After all, most of the cantina was at least surreptitiously viewing the scene. The jilted lover stalked over, grabbed Lisnaar Adami by the shoulder, and shoved her aside.

In her drunken state, Adami fell from her new 'friend's' lap and onto the ground, looking blearily up at the livid woman standing over her.

For her part, the girlfriend did not miss a beat. "What the fuck is going on here?!? What gives you the right to force yourself on my boyfriend?!?"

Around this time, the onlookers stopped pretending to be occupied with other matters, instead opting to gawk openly at the scene.

Lisnaar giggled as she stood up. "Oh come on. I couldn't help it. Blame him. I mean, he's just soooo cute!" She appraised her opponent. "Then again, so are you. Come on, let's take him and go someplace, show him a really good time."

The newcomer looked appalled. "Hell no!"

Lisnaar shrugged and sauntered closer. "Not your style? Well ok then; let's ditch him and go off somewhere more private together. We can learn so much from each other..."

The petty officer - who had the sense to keep his mouth shut - felt himself being yanked to his feet by his livid girlfriend, who only said, "Come on. We're leaving."

Adami stood in their path. "Fine. Frak you, bitch. We were having fun before you got here!"

With those words, she grabbed the unsuspecting woman by the hair and slammed her head into the nearest table. The woman fell to the ground unconscious, and her now terrified lover lept to her side.

Lisnaar looked down at him in disgust. "Ugh. If you want the lesser woman, then you can't do anything for me. You're missing out. There are plenty of other good men here."

She fixated on a tall blonde woman in a gold ensign's uniform. "Mmm, and women. How about you, hon?"

The woman said nothing, but Lisnaar took her blurry outstretched arm as a signal to continue, and did something that, in her drunken state, seemed perfectly reasonable at the time; She reached up behind her neck, untied the strap of the dress, and let the top half fall forward, exposing her bare breasts to the entire fixated crowd.

Lisnaar started towards the woman whom she was now positive wanted to take her somewhere fun. Cupping her own breasts, she looked the ensign in the eye. "Come on, baby, let's go."

The ensign stepped forward, finally speaking. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Lisnaar giggled. "'Ma'am'. My aren't we formal?" She leaned forward and whispered in the other woman's ear. "The name you'll want to scream is 'Adami'. you dyke."

It was the last thing she said before feeling cold metal brushing her side. She looked down, and the ensign's once-blurry outstretched hand came into sharp focus... holding a phaser. The gold uniform signified security.

Adami pouted for the third time in five minutes. "Shit."

She grabbed a bystander's drink and slammed it back. No one stopped her.

As the room started spinning, she looked at the otherwise-pretty woman - along with the other three guards who had arrived - before saying, "You guys are no fun at all," and unceremoniously blacking out.

"First Patient" by

Commander Kisha Ventar
Chief of Surgery USS Miranda

and

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon
Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

Officer's lounge....

Dr. Kisha Ventar was on her third cup of decaf in the lounge. It had been slow since she got there. Even though it was good that no one was hurt, she was bored. She began to read the recent medical journal she received when the page came in...

"Commander Ventar, medical emergency. You're needed in Sickbay right away."

"On my way." She jumped up and left for sickbay. When she got there, a man was bleeding from his abdomen. She immediately went to work on Lt. Jonas.

Scanning him, she found a foreign object lodged very close to his spine. If it had been a few more inches, his spinal cord could have been severed. She also noted that he had slight damage to his liver. She started to give out orders.

"I need a sterile field ASAP!." He was prepped for surgery and Kisha began to operate. Taking the laser scalpel, she carefully made an incision to reveal the organs in his abdomen. Once done, she grabbed the microsuture to repair the nick in his liver. She scanned once more for any injury to his gallbladder and intestines. There was none. An alarm went off...

"Doctor, his blood pressure is falling." They rushed to stablize him. Kisha closed him up and decided to wait until she felt that she could isk going in for the bullet.

After a few hours, she went back in and removed the bullet. With forcepts,she grabbed the bullet and then made sure that she didn't do any damage to his spine. "Everything looks good. Let's close him up." She took the autosuture and closed him up. He was taken to recovery where Kisha would have to wait to see if there was any further damage.

Kisha went to her office and contacted the USS Galaxy to let them know that the surgery went well and that he'd be returning to his ship after he recouperates for a bit.

"Losing Perspective"

(Obviously occurs just prior to "First Patient" by Dr Ventar)

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas

CO - Second Platoon

Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

Pvt Lia "Newbie" Men'a'NoS

Infantry - Second Platoon (NPC - Written by Stuart)

Pvt FC Boomer Sweet

Infantry - Second Platoon (NPC - Written by Stuart)

Pvt FC Norma Jean Riley

Maintenance Technician (NPC - Written by Stuart)

Sgt Maj Niklaas "Kick" Furji

XO - Second Platoon (NPC - Written by Stuart)

****

A Side Street

Ra'tleihfi

ch'Rihan

****

It occurred to Steven, as he knelt on the ground, his blood soaked hands clutching at his abdomen, that letting those two damned Ferengi live, after their kidnapping of Nara and himself, was perhaps not the wisest move he had ever made.

His vision blurred, his extremities felt numb, and sharp pain rushed through his nerve fibers and up to his brain. A shadow passed before him and he squinted to see who or what it was. His vision clearing for a second, he found the shadow to be Lia, or Newbie as everyone called her. Her mouth was moving as if talking to him, but the ringing in his ears detracted from any words she might be forming.

A shudder filled his being and he slipped to the blood soaked ground as everything faded to black.

****

A few minutes ago

****

"You just don't get it, do you? That's what I dig about you Lia!" Boomer replied eagerly to the question he had been asked. "Being a Deltan and all that... Just floats my boat, if you know what I mean." He winked at Pixie, who shook her head at him.

"Grow up Boom." Norma fired at the hot headed Terran. "Leave Lia alone. I doubt she would ever think twice at doing *anything* with you."

"Um...." Lia said in response.

Boomer gestured wildly at the unbonded Deltan. "See, she ain't so offended by me. So don't get your panties in a bunch Jeanie."

Norma just pouted. She couldn't explain why, but she detested Boomer. He was such a chauvinistic pig. And wasn't worth the time of day. She wasn't even sure why she had been deployed, for she normally spent her time on the Galaxy fixing the marines' shit when it broke down, but never-the-less, she made a note to talk to the young Deltan when the mission was done, to help her realize just what a jerk the Private was.

Steven could naught but smile. It was good to see the guys getting on again after the months of extra training they had endured after the Cheron debacle.

They had been walking for about five minutes now, checking out the side road that Mandukar had mentioned. So far there had been no altercations between his small team at the local Rihanna, but from the expressions of hatred and disgust that he could see on many of their faces, it might not be too long before something happened. Occasionally, he spotted one or two that had grateful smiles on their faces, no doubt realizing why the Federation marines were here and being thankful that they were.

"They're not in a bunch you pisshead. Watch the front like you're supposed to." She finally replied to his comment about her underwear.

"I am watching the front. But you should perhaps be watching our rear and not Lia's sexy behind." He retorted back.

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone knows that you are that way inclined. No point in denying it, honey." Private Sweet replied, a huge grin on his mug.

Norma Jean's eyes widened. "I am not, nor will I ever be, a lesbian." She looked over to Lia to see her reaction, but the Deltan was careful not to look at Riley. "So why don't you just go blow yourself, Boomer. It's the only thing you're good at, you worthless piece of shit." She was angry, at boiling point, and she needed to vent her frustration.

Steven turned to the trio, hoping to quell the tension that was building. It wasn't doing the unit any good and whether she was a lesbian or bisexual or straight, it didn't matter. She was a marine and she, along with everyone else, had a job to do. "Why don't you two just knock..."

"Look out el-tee!" Lia said as she slammed into Steven, a split second before a shot hit him in the stomach.

Boomer was busy looking at Norma Jean, trying to get her more angry, and in so doing, in his mind at least, sexier. So his reaction time was a heck of a lot slower than it should have been. When Lia shouted, he turned to the front again and raised his weapon as the two cloaked beings stepped into view. He could only watch, as his rifle slowly came to his shoulder, as the second fired a shot at him. His world went deathly silent and black as the shot hit him squarely between the eyes.

His lifeless corpse slid to the ground.

Norma reacted faster than Boomer, and raised her weapon in line with the first attacker, and fired. Her shot was wide and only nicked him in the arm, which, luckily for her, saved her life for his shot was also knocked wide and clocked her in her upper arm, forcing her rifle from her hands.

Was this what she signed up for? Was this what she wanted to do for her career? To Lia, the questions normally haunted her, but as the el-tee and Boomer were shot, her determination grew and her confidence rose. Raising her rifle with a sudden rush of adrenalin, she fired at the two attackers, her shots hitting both, one to the head and the other in the arm.

Dropping the weapon with a clatter, the surviving Ferengi raised his hands in surrender. "Firk surrender's... please don't shoot." He said as his hood fell back revealing himself as a Ferengi.

Lia breathed a sigh of relief.

"I've got him. You check if the el-tee is okay." Norma called out, pulling out her hand phaser from her belt with her non injured hand.

Looking at the Raven haired Terran, Lia nodded and rushed to the Jonas' side.

"Sir... Sir.. Are you alright? Sir"

Lia placed a hand on him, as if to steady him, and saw Steven's eyes moved about briefly. He shuddered and slipped from her grasp onto the ground, his breathing coming is slow gasps.

"She tapped her comm badge. "Men'a'NoS To Furji"

=/\= What is it, Newbie? =/\=

"Kick, the el-tee is down, Boomer, I think, is dead. Need emergency evac. Over."

=/\= Get the Taskforce to beam them up to Medical. I'm coming over now. =/\=

"Yes sir. Men'a'NoS out." She replied.

She tapped her badge again. "Federation Taskforce, this is Private Men'a'NoS."

=/\= Commander Harris here. What can we do for you, Private? =/\=

"Ma'am, I have two.." She was interrupted by Norma. "I'm fine Newbie. Get them to take Boomer up."

Lia nodded. "Scratch that. Ma'am, I have an injured Marine here that needs emergency medical assistance and also a dead marine."

=/\= Understood. Tracking lifesigns now. Beaming them directly to sickbay now. Harris out. =/\=

Lia watched as Jonas and Sweet were beamed away in a shimmer of blue light.

"FUBAR" A voice called out as it rounded the corner and saw the carnage just before the two marines were beamed away.

"Fubar Sir?" Newbie called out to Kick, oblivious to the meaning of the word.

Furji smiled at her innocence, despite the situation. "Later Lia. First tell me what happened."

"Observation"

Two shrouded figures

(OOC: Those on the Galaxy will remember these two from Catalyst)

****

Off the Main Road

Ra'tleihfi

ch'Rihan

****

In a darkened alleyway, off of the main road, two figures watched. Their faces hidden from view by large black hooded cloaks that they each wore, they hugged the dark side of the alley watching. With the rumors of a huge fleet of warships heading their direction, they resigned themselves to never getting off the blasted planet.

So they had done what they always did in these situations. They survived. By any means necessary.

It had been difficult, initially, to hide out in the city, for their appearance wasn't as conducive to blending in with the local populace. But they had managed.

With stolen cloaks, and plenty of food they pinched from the various market stalls, it hadn't been too hard to survive.

The duo had been standing there, hugging the wall as a large number of Rihanna had marched past, having been asked to go home by an elderly Rihanna on a cane. Through beady eyes they watched as he conversed with a couple of the Federation marines who had fortified the road. And it was then that one of them spotted a marine they formerly, albeit briefly, knew.

The slightly shorter of the two pointed at the marine standing next to the Rihanna. "Do you recognize him?"

The second snorted in reply. "Should I?"

"Yes, you pathetic piece of targ meat. He's the one who cost us everything." He replied, even more convinced with every passing moment.

The second shook his head, the cloak hiding any expression on his face. "Can't be."

"I'm telling you, that's him!"

"Are you sure?" The second asked. "Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to stay around after what he did."

The first snarled at his companion. It was the man, he was sure of it. He was the one that had cost them everything. "Yes dear cousin... that is the huuuuman we stopped our deal."

"What do we do, Jek?"

OOC: takes place four days after the Miranda gets back from it's "trip".

"Strange views"

Starring:
Commander Rayna Lamar
Flight Officer Jacob Striker

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down And I do appreciate you being round. Help me, get my feet back on the ground, Won't you please, please help me? --"Help!" by the Beatles

+++++++++++++++

Location: Outside of the quarters of the Lamar family, USS Miranda

Jacob was wearing a simple pair of blue jeans with a white shirt and as always, his Rogue Group flight jacket since it was one of the rules of the squadron that Colonel Mitchell had insisted on continuing after Commander Anton went missing months ago after the whole debacle with the Lyrans. But now he was standing in front of the quarters of Rayna with a slightly troubled expression.

*Well, time to do this* he thought to himself as he reached up and tapped on the door chime to let her know that he was there.

Rayna had just walked in herself not more than a few minutes after a long shift. She went to the door whiched swooshed open. There standing was Jacob and a troubled expression that concerned her. His expression was very serious. She didn't have to be an empath to tell there was something bothering him.

"Jacob, come in. I just got home myself." She motioned for him to come in.

Jacob smiled when he saw her, though it was a weak smile that didn't change the fact that he cared about her. After he came in, "Um, Rayna. I need to talk to you about something that I kind of found out about through a friend of mine on my old ship and it's kind of a really damn strange thing and since I promised you that I would be honest with you, I came here after trying to figure out how to tell ya." he said.

"Okay. If you can give me a minute to change, we'll talk. I have got to get out of these clothes. Help yourself to a drink or if you don't want one, have a seat. I promise I won't be more than five minutes."

Jacob nodded and while Rayna went to her room, he went over to the replicator and pulled out two glasses of water and then put one on the table and took a sip of his as he sat down on the couch.

Rayna walked into her room and changed into something comfortable. Five minutes later, as promised, she came back in, joining Jacob on the couch. "Sorry about that." She puts her hand on his, "What's wrong Jacob? By the look on your face, it must be serious."

Jacob put his glass of water on the table and then turned to face her, "You remember what I told you about my ex, the vulcan who had her mind basically pulled out and washed of any and all emotions?" he said in a serious tone.

"Yes I do. Is she okay?" Rayna asked with concern in her voice.

"Not if members of my family and some of my friends get ahold of her." Jacob said with a tone of utter and complete seriousness in his voice. "Rayna, she had a child, my child to be more to the point which she gave up on Vulcan after birth and then came back to the Beowulf and put me on trial for the events that lead me to coming here."

Rayna didn't know what to say. She sat there dumbfounded. The silence was broken by her after a minute, "Oh, wow. I didn't see that coming. A son, don't know what to say." She smiled, "So how are you holding up? It must have been a complete shock like it was to me."

Jacob had tensed a little and had expected to have her shouting at him, but when she didn't and she smiled, a couple of tears slipped past his eyelids. "Um, I'm still reeling you know? I was equally afraid that you'd not want anything to do with me over it too." he said in a quiet voice that also held his nervousness.

"Jacob, you had a relationship with this woman long before you ever met me. If a child was produced out of that, I don't have a problem with it." She laid her other hand on his in a reassuring way, "So now that you know, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to start proceedings to get my son from the Vulcan government. I've already found that my aunt Katirn and Arel will help me but I was wondering..if you'd be there when the whole thing goes down and Nikki if she wants to get off the Miranda for a little bit too." Jacob explained to her with a small hopeful smile on his face.

"Sure, anything to help you out. I'm glad you're going to do this. I think a father should be with his son. I think it's very important. There are just some things that you can't talk to your mom about." She thought about Miles when she said that.

Jacob again nodded, "I just wish his grandparents had a chance to meet him." Jacob said and then he stiffened when he said that, like it came out before he realized that he'd said that.

The way he reacted after he said it made her realize that they must be deceased. She sympathized with him, as she thought about Winston and his untimely death. "I'm sorry." All she could do was hug him. No other words were necessary.

Jacob accepted the hug and just kind of melted into it, all of the stress he'd been feeling for the past few months finally just crashed into him and he sighed. "You know, when our parents say wait till you're older and then you understand, that's one of the biggest frakking understatements in the universe, huh?" he said, slightly muffled by her shoulder.

She chuckled, "Uh huh." She ended the hug and snuggled right up to the side of him, resting her head on his shoulder. Well, I hope things go smoothly for you. One of my friends had dealings with the Vulcan government. For an emotionless race, they can be very stubborn and highly opinionated."

"Yeah that's true." Jacob said and then he looked around for a moment before asking "Where is Nikki if you don't mind asking, school?" he asked."Thought I'd ask her if she'd want to come to Vulcan too while I'm here."

"Nikki isn't here. She's been spending a lot of her time after class working on some kind of computer program for the holodeck. She's always keeping herself busy. I have a feeling it's because she doesn't have to think about her best friend that moved away. You see, most kids here don't like spending time with Nikki. Her high IQ intimidates the kids. Gavin was the only one who really liked her. It hit her hard when he left."

Jacob nodded, "I think she and my neice need to have a talk the two of them both having that problem you know?" he said. He then looked down at her. "Two things, one is have I told you how beautiful you are yet today and two, who is this Gavin and why is it that when someone mentions the name of someone named Shinta around here people like Colonel Mitchell go all pissed on people?" he asked.

Rayna smiled, "No, you haven't told me yet but I'm sure you were getting to that." Then she became somewhat serious, "And as for Gavin, he's Shinta's son. I'm not sure I ever understood the Mitchell/Shinta thing. I tried to stay out of her personal life as much as possible. I learned that a while ago."

"AH!" Jacob said with a nod but a look of slight confusion still etched on his face. "You know what I think is funny, Rayna? Here I am on this ship where some of my friends like Wes Hammond and Soren Rio once worked and played and I'm once again left behind by those two." He let a slight chuckle escape his throat. "But I'm still one of if not the most happiest men in the galaxy right now." he said while look down at her face.

She looked at him, "As you should be. You have a son. Someone who can carry on the Striker name. I think that is fantastic. I'm really happy for you."

He chuckled a little before he said, "Rayna, I was talking about being your boyfriend and being able to sit here with you like this. Finding out I have a son is a different kind of joy then the one that I'm feeling now which is that you haven't pushed me away because of it."

"Aww, I could never do that. I love you too much to let a child come between us. What kind of a person would that make me? Besides, he's a part of you. I bet that he is just as handsome...as his dad."

Jacob nodded and then something clicked in his head which made his eyes widen as he looked at her, "Did you say what I think you said?" he asked

"Which part? The part where I called you handsome?" She knew what he was refering to but she really wanted to hear him ask.

"The part where you said that you love me?" Jacob said with a little bit of a smile on his face that showed his slight confusion as he hoped that he heard her right.

"Oh that part." She chuckled, "Yes, that is exactly what I said. I hope that doesn't scare you. I know how some guys get nervous when their girlfriends say those three words."

Without saying a word, Jacob leaned down and kissed her, Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. When he broke the kiss he simply said "If I was afraid of those three words, would I say that I love you too?" he said quietly looking into her eyes.

"No you wouldn't." She was glad that she took a chance with him. There was one problem though which worried her and it showed on her face, "Now I just hope that Nikki doesn't run the other way when she finds out. I haven't told her about us yet. I mean, she knows that I've been dating someone but she thinks that it is more like a freiendship between two people. I wanted to wait until I was sure that this relationship between us was going some where. I'm still not sure how to break it to her."

Jacob rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully, "Well, could just be honest with her. I mean how old is Nikki again?" he asked.

"She just turned 11. Maybe I'm worrying for nothing. But with her, it is so hard to know how she will react."

"Faith, my niece, could be one of the best people for her to talk to love. She's at that stage where the only people she cares for are either dead or left her, has she kind of withdrawn from you?" Jacob asked, his tone slightly serious like he'd seen this before.

"No, she didn't, not at that time. Actually I was the one who became withdrawn from her. I didn't handle Mike's death very well and it forced her to be the adult, something that a ten year old should never have to do. She didn't have time to mourn her dad's death. But now that Gavin is gone, I've noticed that she has become withdrawn. She keeps herself busy. She doesn't play with the twins like she used to either. She doesn't want anything to do with them but that is probably my fault." She looked down at her hands, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop this on you like this." She looked back at him again, "You came here to talk about your son and here I'm talking about my problems."

Jacob turned just enough so that he could reach down with both of his hands which he then took both of Rayna's into his and squeezed them reassuringly. "Faith's mother died when she was ten at the start of the Dominion War. Faith's grandparents and a good chunk of our family died on the October first attacks and she did all of the things that Nikki is doing now but Leo, my brother and Faith's father, couldn't handle it so I helped as much as I could." Jacob explained to Rayna.

"You are the woman that I love, Rayna, and Nikki is your daughter. So I help one, then I will help the other. That goes double for the twins of course." Jacob explained, adding the last part with a smile as he tried to help Rayna's mood.

Rayna's mood started to change for the better, "Have I told how lucky I am to have you in my life?" She started to smile once more.

"No, but there is a first time for everything." he said in reply before bringing up both of her hands and kissing her knuckles. "So, how shall we break the news and do you want me to see if Faith can come and visit to talk to Nikki?"

"I'd like to talk to her myself and break the news slowly; not all at once. Then after I've prepared her for it, we can tell her together." She thought about the twins, "I am so glad that the the twins are still too young to understand."

Jacob nodded and kissed her gently, "Trust me, I understand Rayna." he said with a smile, "Just let me know when you're ready to break the news to her and I'll make dinner for the both of you to help soften the blow as it would be."

"Thanks for being so understanding. You know the more time I spend with you, the more I love you. You're too good to me, you know that?."

"I had good examples, my parents tried their best to bring me up while trying to be officers of the fleet." Jacob said with a smile on his face. "I can only hope that I'm as a good parent as they were when it's my time you know?"

She reassured him, "You'll do fine. Don't worry about it. Besides, you'll have lots of help. He is so fortunate to have a dad like you."

Jacob nodded a little, "I'm thinking about naming him after a friend of mine. The kid has a name which in Vulcan means forgotten." Jacob said as he wrapped an arm around Rayna and drew her closer to him. "Thing is getting ahold of the person who I'm naming him after will be a bugger."

"Oh? Why is that?" She was curious.

"Well, when was the last time you saw Soren Rio or Wes Hammond?" he asked, he'd known the two of them for years and they were almost like brothers to him.

She thought for a moment, "It's been so long, I can't remember. Why do you ask?"

"During the war with the Dominion, I worked with the both of them enough times that they kind of became like kid brothers to me, Rayna." Jacob explained, "Hell if it wasn't for those two I may not be here at this moment."

"I'll have to thank them one day." She added, "So after which one of them are you going to name your son?"

"I'm thinking of Soren Rio, or William Sanford. I honestly don't know yet." Jacob said.

"Theyr'e both nice names. Which ever name you pick, I'm sure it will suit him. Try having to name two kids at the same time. It took us a week to find names we could agree on."

Jacob chuckled a little and nodded, "You know, I had this fear that we'd be going against the Hydrans or something and then right before the call to battle was sounded, I found you and told you how I felt but I had to leave before I found out how you felt" Jacob said, "Now that I know how you feel and that you're not going to turn away because of my son, I don't think anything can go wrong with anything now."

Rayna's thoughts went to her late husband which scared her, "I hope you're right If anything was to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do. I've lost one love, I don't want to lose another."

Jacob wrapped both of his arms around her and hugged her tightly, "Nothing is going to happen to me, Rayna. Not when I have you, Nikki, my son and the twins all to come back to." he said while gently stroking her hair.

She teased him, trying to lighten things up again, "You'd better or I'll kill you myself."

He smiled at her and kissed her again briefly, "Sorry about not giving you another fuller kiss, I just don't know when Nikki is going to walk in and she'd probally freak seeing me here kissing you." he explained while gently running a finger around the corners of her lips.

Rayna smiled as she glanced over at the chronometer, "Nikki's like a time clock. She picks up the twins from daycare for me and then comes home. We have a little more than an hour before she gets here."

Jacob nodded, "So what do you want to do? Would you like me to just sit here with you and hold you till it's about time for her and the twins to come in?" he asked.

"Unless you have to be some where now, I'd like that." Rayna wasn't quite ready to take the next step. She still needed some time.

"For you, I would slow down the universe for you." Jacob said while he kept his arms wrapped around her. "But I came here after my duty shift so that I could spend time with you, good or bad."

"I appreciate that. It means a lot to me. It's nice to be held close again like this. I didn't realize how much I missed the cuddling and holding until now." She snugggled as close as she could get.

"Hold on a second" Jacob said as he shrugged out of his flight jacket which left him in the short sleeved white shirt he was wearing. "Figured I'd help become more comfortable for you, love. I don't know why we have to wear those things off duty, they're about as comfortable as a gorn sweater." he said leaning back so that Rayna could get comfortable again.

Rayna hadn't even noticed until he took it off and held her again. She replied back, "Because it's their lot in life. Truthfully, I didn't notice, until now."

"If they'd let me wear my jacket, I'd be happier but nnnooo I have to wear the modern issue, nothing beats feeling an older bomber jacket you know?" he said with a smile on his face. "So, I'm thinking that I give my niece a call later and see if she can't come and talk to Nikki, I think she's on the Concorde right now."

"That would be great. Nikki doesn't really have anyone to talk to except for the ship's counselor. It'll be good for her. Thanks."

"Hey, it's the least that I can do to help, true?" he said as he gently kissed the top of her head.

"You've helped me more than you know." Rayna just left it at that.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm ever going to stop, love." Jacob said, his smile evident in his voice alone aside from his face.

"Okay, I'm going to embarrass myself. This is going to sound really, really corny but think I love you even more now than I did an hour ago. What did I do right to get you?"

"I don't know but what I do know is that I keep asking myself that same question. I think that I've been in love with you since the moment Arel first introduced us though." Jacob said with a smile on his face. "I just hope that Faith can help Nikki. She sounds like a cool kid and with you as her mom, she's gotta be wicked smart." he added with the smile still on his face.

"She actually got her smarts from her real father. He was the top of his class but he let his male ego get in the way. But forget about him. Next time we see Arel, we'll have to thank her." Rayna realized that she was starting to make the conversation a downer and caught herself.

Jacob reached down and tilted Rayna's head up to so that he could look her in the eyes. "Love of my life, that was a compliment to you since you are the real reason she's smart and cool, you and Mike both from what you've told me." he said in a gentle voice. "At some point down the road, we get married, I can only pray to be as a good man as Mike was to you, Nikki and the twins." he told her with utter and complete honesty.

Rayna was a bit taken aback when he mentioned marriage. It was surprising to her. It wasn't a bad thing, not at all. She just didn't expect it, "I try not to compare you to Mike and I don't want you to feel like you need to measure up to him or anything. I love you for you."

Jacob smiled at her, "I can understand that, but I just hope that you understand what I meant, love. I'm all of a sudden thrown into being a father with a child that I didn't know existed and everything." Jacob said to her. "I hope that I didn't scare you or anything with what I said about Mike."

"No, not at all. I just wanted to reassure you. Someone once told me that the one thing that can kill a second marriage is always making comparisons. I don't want to make that mistake with you."

Jacob didn't say anything but he simply nodded and kissed the tip of Rayna's nose. "Thanks love. But soon I have to face two of the ultimate judges in existance, Your folks and Nikki, true?" he said with a half smile on his face.

She winced, "Maybe we'll skip my folks for the time being. It's not that I don't want you to meet them, well, just one of them. My mom is great but my Dad is very hard to get along with. He's set in his ways and is very old fashioned. He hated it when I joined Starfleet. He wanted me to stay home, get married and have babies. My Dad didn't even contact me after Mike died. I had to invite myself to my own parent's home. He proceded to tell me that if I had married someone with a normal career, I'd still have a husband. Sometimes I think he was born without a heart. Believe me, telling Nikki will be a lot easier."

Jacob chuckled, "Understood love, but aren't all father's protective like that? I mean my father wanted me to become a painter or something constructive. Instead I become a starfighter pilot and a marine you know?" Jacob offered.

"Yeah but he could have at least said 'sorry for your loss' or something like that. We used to be close but after I got," she paused as she choked out the word, "raped, we grew apart. I guess me leaving Nikki there for them to raise her while I was chasing bad guys wasn't a bright idea on my part. They did take care of her for 4 years because I couldn't cope being with Nikki. I guess I can't blame him for being the way he is."

Jacob nodded and simply hugged her closer to him then gently stroked her hair, "True, but you need to stop thinking about negative stuff right now love or you'll make yourself depressed and that's something that's never a good thing." he said gently to her before he kissed the top of her head. "Trust me I know." Jacob added, his own voice taking a slightly "heavy" tone to it before he started to soothingly stroke her back in a comforting manner.

"You're right. My life hasn't exactly had a lot of ups. My life has been more of downs. I used to imagine this huge black cloud hanging over me and following me wherever I go. When I married Mike, that black cloud left and when he died, the black cloud returned. It took me months of therapy to realize that there is no black cloud and that bad things happen to people sometimes. I get so focused on the negative things and I tend to harp on them. Old habits are hard to break." She shifted her position slightly, "So, if I begin to talk negative, feel free to shut me up any way you seem fit." She glanced up at him with a slight smile.

"You mean like this?" Jacob asked before he took Rayna's face into his left hand and gently kissed her on the lips while gently stroking the side of her face lovingly.

"Mm huh." Was all she could manage to say. She could kiss all night. Once the kiss broke, Rayna further commented, "Exactly like that but you can kiss me anytime you want." She leaned back in for one more kiss.

"Okay" he said quietly as he gently kissed her again, while wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him.

It had been a long time since she had been with someone like this. She began to get lost in the moment. She completely forgot about Nikki, the twins and everything else that troubled her.

As Jacob and Rayna were kissing, Jacob's right hand started to move up the curve of the left side of her waist up to just below her left breast on it's own without him realizing it as he slowly started to let himself be swept up in the moment. *How long has it been since I just let myself be me?* he asked himself before all of his worries just faded into the background.

Rayna didn't mind at first as the kissing became more passionate. She had longed for a man's touch and Jacob was satisfying that need. She trusted him, allowing his caresses. Rayna found herself wanting more.

Jacob ran his hand up and down the curve from Rayna's left hip to just below her left breast while kissing her for a few seconds until his hand touched the side of her breast without realizing he did. But somewhere in his mind, something was starting to shout something to his concious mind.

Soon, a sense of guilt emerged out of nowhere. She began to tremble as the feeling worsened. She felt as if she was cheating on her former husband. Rayna began to gently push him away.

When Jacob felt Rayna starting to push away from him gently, his mind noticed where one of his hands was and then a sudden and complete fear came over him as he pushed away from Rayna and looked up at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, prophets I'm sorry." he said in a near panic, realizing what he had done.

"You didn't do anything wrong. This sounds so cliche but it isn't you, it's me. There is a small demon I still need to exercise. Until I do, I can't move on to the sexual part of our relationship." She took his hands in hers and pulled him towards her, "I should be the one apoligizing for leading you on like this."

Jacob let a small, weak chuckle escape his throat. "Looks like we've both got a demon like that, Rayna." he said as he gently squeezed her hands back. "I don't think you were leading me on since I think it was a little bit more of being lost in the moment, true?"

"Good. We'll get there to that point, we really will. We have all the time in the world. There's no hurry, right?"

"Love, we have all the time in the universe to get to that point and I'm in no hurry because being able to go to sleep listening to your heartbeat and hearing your breathing then waking up to your smile is more than enough for me" Jacob said with a smile on his face. "Hell, if I were to propose to you right here right now, I'd still wait to get to that part until after the wedding." he said, conviction in his voice.

He then squeezed her hands tightly but in a loving way, "But we got time to get to both of those parts, true?" he said with a soft smile.

She was shocked but in a good way, "You're kidding. Not only are you wonderful, loving, caring and fun to be with, you also are old fashioned. I like that. It's a nice change."

"What can I say, I love you too much to do otherwise." Jacob said her. "How much longer until Nikki and the twins get here?"

"Oh no, the kids. I completely forgot about them. They'll be here any time." She shook her head, "I can't believe I did that."

Jacob reached over and gently kissed her on the lips, "Stop that, it's no one's fault Rayna, alright?" he said as he reached behind him and grabbed his jacket. "I'm gonna head out before they get here so that you can have time with your kids, okay?" he asked with a smile.

Rayna feined a frown, "Okay, if you must." She smiled, "I'll be so glad when you don't have to rush off because of the kids." She stood up and walked him to the door.

"I know, but you need to break the news to them and I think the first step needs to be done while I'm not here. Kind of soften the blow you know?" he told her while gently caressing the right side of her face lovingly. "But I agree with you on that one love."

"Well, I'm going to talk to her as soon as possible. Once I know where her mindset is, we can go from there." She leaned into him and kissed him once, "I'll let you know what she said." He hadn't left yet and she already missed him.

Jacob smiled at her, "Don't worry love, everything will be okay." he told her but he could see in her eyes that she was feeling the same thing that he was at that very moment. "Everything will be better soon, I promise." he said while gently squeezing her fingers before letting go of her hand, giving her another quick kiss on the lips and a soft "I love you."

"I love you too." Her next sentence, she didn't want to tell him but, "You'd better go. Nikki could be walking down that corridor any minute now."

Jacob nodded and then quickly shrugged into his flight jacket before stepping out into the corridor and then he quickly gave her a smile before starting down the corridor towards the turbolifts.

Rayna watched him leave. In the corridor on the opposite side was Nikki and her siblings. Nikki was too busy yelling at the twins to notice Jacob walking away from their quarters. Rayna sighed a sigh of relief. Soon, she'd talk to Nikki.

"Family"

with

Arel Smith
Jacob Striker

=======================

Location: the Cantina of the USS Miranda.

Jacob was sitting in a quiet corner booth of the Miranda's cantina's upper level with a bottle of House Tir'nog Bloodwine that was aged to perfection-if such a thing was possible with the infamous blood wine to those who didn't nor couldn't handle the drink-and he was thinking as he watched the USS Concord matching warp speeds with the smaller in terms of size Miranda.

"I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to see what it's like aboard one of those things." Jacob muttered to himself as he took a pull from his mug and relished the taste of the blood wine on his tounge.

"Why would you want to?" Arel asked after drinking some of her wine.

Jacob quirked an eyebrow at her, "Sorry it's the fighter pilot in me, ya know?" he said.

Arel shrugged. Maybe she'd be more impressed if she discovered the Concord had an armorery filled with Klingon blades, antique disruptors, and other weapons. As it was, ship design didn't do much for her.

Jacob looked out of the viewport again and shook his head, "I would've felt better if we had a couple of Kt'ingas or Vor'chas with us on this little mission." Jacob said as he took a pull off of his glass before setting it back down and pouring him some more. "I mean my aunt is assigned to the border near romulan space and she's a frakking 'ech in the KDF." Jacob finally muttered as he leaned back and took a pull from his glass.

The security officer smiled. "I briefly wanted to be in the KDF when I was a child. 'ech would have been a good title to have."

Jacob chuckled at the thought of Arel sitting in a command chair and yelling at Kol'Hos. "Sorry, I'm just thinking of how you'd act towards my aunt's favorite first officer." he said as he lifted his glass in a salute to her. "Speaking of my aunt, after this whole thing on Romulus gets settled-I'm going to Vulcan."

Arel nodded. "I think that is a good idea. Do they know you are coming?"

"Yes, they also understand that my aunt and uncle will also be coming..and I was hoping that my son's godmother would also be there also." Jacob said while looking at Arel with a smile.

"Huh?" Arel managed without choking on her bloodwine. Just barely though.

"Arel, I'm asking you to be my child's batlh me'nal, Arel. I'm asking you to be there as my son's godmother." he responded with a smile. "I couldn't think of anyone better than you."

"I ..." She blinked. "Wow."

"Of course, if you don't want to I will understand, Arel." Jacob said with the serious look still on his face.

"I would be honored, Malek"

Jacob smiled as he took a drink from his cup, then he looked at the red liquid inside of it. "Arel, can I ask you for advice on a situation you caused?" he said, slightly jokingly as he looked at his almost family-like friend.

"Me? What? I kill someone you know or something?"

Jacob chuckled, "No but what I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this table, okay?" Jacob said.

Arel narrowed her eyes but nodded. "Okay."

Jacob ran a hand over the back of his neck, "You know that me and Rayna have been dating for a few months now, since before that whole thing sending us to the Delta Quadrant right?" Jacob asked, sounding just a tad nervous.

She could admit she was a little smug about that setup; Arel wondered if she should take another shot at finding someone for Mark. "Yes."

"Well, I just wanted to say thank you and ask that you don't tell anyone about the fact that after only what, five months of dating? Me and Rayna have pretty much found that we're in love with each other." Jacob said with a smile on his face. "Thank you, Arel."

"Well, I just pointed you in the right direction." Arel said, embarresed by both her new role and the thanks. She then frowned at him. "Be good to Lamar or I'll kick your ass."

"Don't worry Arel, I have a feeling that if I do there will be a line from here to Atlantis to Xanthe and back." Jacob said with a smile. "I'd sooner cut out my own right eye than hurt her." Jacob then said, his voice full of nothing but solomen truth in his voice.

"Meeting with the Guidance Counselor"

Commander Jack Dawson
Chief Engineer

Cadet First Class Ezri Daniels
Engineering Midshipman

Chief Engineer's Office
===============

Ezzie looked at herself one last time outside Commander Dawson's door. Her uniform, boots, hair, makeup, all of it was as perfect as it was going to get. She looked the part of the ultimate cadet, and she prayed that it would make a good first impression about her personal appearance. She tugged at her uniform to get the wrinkles out, then took a deep breath.

This was her big chance to learn and impress. This one year trip was her last major requirement before graduation. She had worked her ass off for three years at the Academy, gotten thisassignment in front of about 50 others who wanted aboard the ship, and now she wasn't going toscrew it up. Make mistakes, yes, but she wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. Sure, she was nervous, but she was confident enough to channel the nerves into a positive thing. She pushed the door chime and waited.

Jack had been lost in thought when the door chime sounded. As a result, he wasn't really expecting it. Not generally the jumpy type, he nevertheless jumped on this occasion, sending apile of padds scurrying across his desk. Shaking it off, he called for the person on the other side of the door to enter. Surprised to find the resident cadet behind it, he regarded her for a moment. "What can I do for you, Cadet?"

She stepped in at attention, looking as confident and whatnot as she could. She stole a quick glance of the room as she entered. ~PADDs everywhere...either I scared him or he's a messy worker~ Standing in front of the commander, she blurted out a reporting statement. "Sir, Cadet First Class Daniels reporting for duty." ~Dork..." She thought to herself, remembering the four oval pips she wore on the collar of her skin tight uniform. ~He's got eyes. Didn't need to add that I'm a firstie..~

Biting off a laugh, Jack indicated that she should sit down in the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down and relax, Cadet, before you break something. I don't stand on ceremony here. I've been meaning to thank you for all your help on our recent sojourn into the forensics world. You did good work." He shifted in his chair a bit. "But, I doubt that's what you came here to talk to me about. What's on your mind?"

She smirked as she sat. The whole hunt for that poor ensign had been an...intriguing...introduction to life on the Miranda. She looked back at him, appearing much more comfortable than when she had been standing at attention. "Nothing much, sir, just trying to get an idea of my specific duties and all will be around here. While I was aboard the Arapahoe waiting for the Miranda to show up they didn't really know what to do with me, so I spent a lot of time bored and not learning anything practical." Jack nodded. "Well if there is one thing that you should know about the Miranda is that you should always expect the unexpected. I know it's rather cliché, but it's the honest truth. I promise you will never get bored on this ship as long as you promise you'll give me your best effort when I assign you a task. Deal?"

She nodded, a smile creeping over her face. "Deal, sir." "Good enough. So tell me, what specifically about engineering interests you?"

"Well, the thing that got me into it was that I love playing with gadgets and fixing things. I picked flight control systems as a specialty so that I could get to work with people and work on new ideas that I can see work rather than just read on a monitor. I like every field though...and the weapons are pretty cool too." She paused and rolled her eyes. "OK, so I guess I have a little more of my brother in me than I admit." A sheepish grin crept across her face. She pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen in her line of sight. "Yes, I can see that, but that's not a bad thing. Your brother is a good officer. Alright, we'll start you off with a rotation in flight control and weapons. Now, I have no doubt that your Academy instructors told you that you should go out of your way to impress the chief engineer of the first starship that you serve on. I'm not saying that you shouldn't, but I value quality over quantity. Don't be in such a hurry to finish a job to impress me that you make mistakes. Speed comes with time, but it's important that you learn the basics now," he paused and then laughed. "Sorry, I don't mean to lecture. I suppose it comes with the pips," he said referring to the three solid, gold pips on his collar.

She nodded with a smile. "I understand totally. Daddy is a captain, soo..." she rolled her eyes "I've had more than my fair share of those speeches before. I can promise you that, impressive or not, I will give you everything I can, and learn what I can so that somewhere down the road I can actually be an asset rather than an apprentice. I really want to know how a ship works, so don't be surpised if you see me around asking about everything."

Dawson nodded in approval. "That's all I ask, Cadet. I'll make sure you get that opportunity," he started to say when he glanced at a near by clock. "Well, I hate to cut this meeting short, but I've got some final preparations to do before this operation starts full force. The phasers are still bothering me, but we'll get her locked down before they're needed. Anything else?"

"Sir, that's all I've got. Let's just hope this battle goes the right way. Thanks for meeting with me." "Anytime. My door is always open," Jack replied as he stood and showed her the way out.

“Fragmented” Part Three

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

***Location: Crew Quarters, USS Galaxy***

-----------------------------

Miramon had been hoping she wouldn't ask that question. He'd not really had time to think about it, and it wasn't as though he was trained to deal with false memories. That wasn't an experience Starfleet felt that their counselling staff would inevitably encounter, so it was just a case of having to make it up as he went along, or at least it was now.

He motioned for her to sit down again, and did the same himself without waiting to see if she was going to follow suit. He didn't mind standing, but it wasn't exactly designed to be a good therapeutic position - a lot of people tended to either feel uncomfortable when standing, or simply felt the urge to move when doing so, while sitting, they could be a little more expressive.

"Well, maybe you should try to identify things within the memory, see what you recognize. You said you don't know who the girl was, right? Well, did anything else look familiar to you?"

Dhanishta followed him towards the couch but still refused to sit; instead she compromised and perched on the arm of the chair, pulling her gown around her as she sat so it covered her knees as well.

She thought about his question for a while, “I don’t know.” she replied, “I see her primarily. I can see the room, I remember the blood on the floor and then there was the boy. I remember things, like what I was thinking about. But I have no idea where I was when it happened. And I can’t think of any motivation, apart from the sensation. What I felt when I took their lives. It was powerful, more than a force of nature. It was like…” she paused, “It was like death.” she said slowly, her voice laced with the emotions of that experience.

“All that relief and power.” she continued, her eyes glazing as she drew on that memory, “The ability to go anywhere and do anything, to feel the power of the universe, to be able to manipulate it. To reach out and tap into it. It’s more than I can describe, my words don’t do it justice.”

"Try focusing on something more materialistic. Can you see anything of yourself there? Your hands, your body? When you move, does it feel like you? Are you of the same height, or taller? Maybe shorter? Do the surroundings seem familiar to you? Is there anything there that you don't recognise?"

Dhanishta huffed slightly and closed her eyes. Quite frankly she didn’t want to bring this memory back up, she would rather never see it again, but in the interests of sanity…

Taking a deep breath, and trying to relax her tensing shoulders she tried to see the image of the girl. It had plagued her for the last 5 hours or so, you would think it would be easy to recall that image.

But try as she might it just wouldn’t come. The girl would, in all her porcelain glory, staring up with those dark eyes surrounded by that main of golden hair, but the room behind faded. Her view was tunneled, centered on the girl and nothing else. She tried to scan the image, look further out side the box; but there was nothing but a fuzzy haze.

It was like a lightening bolt hit her, realizations liked to come in that fashion. She jumped up off the arm of the couch, her hand rushing to cover her mouth; protecting the information from just being blurted out without thought.

Her own eyes searched the man that stood before her, “She had black eyes.” Dhani whispered through her fingers.

Miramon raised an eyebrow at that. He'd never heard of anyone having black eyes - certainly not a child of human, Bajoran or Trill descent. But perhaps that was a good sign, in this case.

"And you don't know anyone with black eyes, do you. She wasn't anybody you know."

It was more of a statement than a question, judging by the reaction that the woman had to the sudden realisation. It was a detail she obviously hadn't noticed before - the type that you had when you were dreaming but were conscious and didn't realise it - a lucid dream. It was the sudden shock you got when you realised that you were dreaming, and that allowed you to wake up.

“You don’t understand.” Dhanishta replied, “There is only one race I know of that has black eyes and appears human; Betazoids.” she informed him. “I should know I stare into black eyes every time I see my mother.” she added, indicating the origins of her own heritage.

The Bajoran hadn't known that - the only Betazoids he'd ever met had a lighter colouration. He really did need to sit down and read more on his comparative xenobiology, at least, if he was ever going to do well at this job.

"So you're a half-Betazoid. I see. That makes sense," he said, his voice soft as though he were reaffirming something to himself. "Do you remember any such event happening the last time you were on Betazed? Or is it possible that another Betazoid committed the murder and, accidentally or deliberately, passed the memories of it to you?"

Dhanishta shook her head, “I have never set foot on Betazed. I was born in Raal.”

At the puzzled expression she added, “By the Voroth Sea… on Vulcan.” just to clarify.

“And the only Betazoid I have been in close contact with was Suder, he left me in a coma, and Nara Sol Roswell. Well that’s to my knowledge anyway.”

"Half-Trill, Half-Betazoid, born on Vulcan. Wow. That's something I hope I never have to explain to my CO. She'll look at me strangely and decide I need to take a vacation," Miramon noted, just kidding to lighten up the atmosphere a little.

"Anyway, it wouldn't be Nara, because she's not malicious enough to plant those images in anybody's mind, and nor do I think she would murder anybody. This Suder person," he said, with a slight tinge of curiosity, "left you in a coma? Tell me about that."

Dhanishta looked around the room for a moment taking a mental note of where the replicator was. “Did you want to sleep tonight?” she asked him in a half playful manner. Explaining the saga that was Suder and Eshe would take a while. She really should prepare him for that one, it was just plain cruel otherwise. She had already barged in and disturbed his evening. Telling him all about Suder would take another fortnight.

"I gave up on sleeping the day I went into Counselling. It seems if I'm not up talking to people, they're up talking to me, or I'm trying to read reports about new crewmembers, or get ready for the next day's appointments or, the Prophets forbid, trying to indulge in what little is left of my social life. Besides, if you don't tell me now, I'll just be up half the night researching the whole thing so my peace of mind is restored."

“You would do that?” Dhanishta asked, puzzled, surprised and secretly flattered. She couldn’t remember a time that someone took such an interest in getting to the bottom of her madness. Apart from Burton that was; that woman was determined to get Dhanishta fully checked out health wise. She just didn’t know yet how deep the mental wounds were.

"Of course I would," Miramon replied. "I've said I would, and I'm a man of my word. I want to get to the bottom of this so you can sleep better, which then means there's a slightly better chance that maybe I'll get to sleep at all. Don't get me wrong, having an attractive woman in a silk dressing gown appear on my doorstep is a pleasant change of pace, but if it becomes habitual, I'm going to start feeling stress and then I can't do my job. See where this is going?"

Dhanishta smiled a little, pulling the gown around her once more, “Sorry.” she said in a small voice, “I won’t make it a habit. Maybe I might actually make an appointment some time.” she flashed him a playful grin and for the first time that evening actually sat down.

She took a long pause, wondering where to begin. “Well I suppose I should bring you in from the beginning.” She ran a hand through her hair, working out the nutshell version of her life since transferring to the Galaxy. Although to explain how different it was she really had to give him more information of her childhood and the person she was before she came to the Galaxy.

She let out a snort and rolled her eyes. “Get some coffee!”

"Fragmented, Part Four"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

***Location: Crew Quarters, USS Galaxy***

-------------------------

"Okay, I was born on Vulcan.” Dhani began, “I was raised by a Vulcan. His name doesn’t really matter; he died when I was in a coma.” she said, masking her feelings on that quite well by moving on quickly.

“I don’t remember too much about Vulcan, apart from my sister, Kala; playing in the sand dunes, school, all the normal stuff really. But what stands out is the things that he taught me; self control, emotional stability, the pursuit of logic; pretty much everything a Vulcan would teach their own child. I didn’t feel emotions like my sister, I didn’t cry much, pain didn’t really effect me as I knew how to block it.”

“When I was about eleven my parents took us to Trill. It was totally different, a real struggle to fit in. To conform to what I was apparently supposed to be. But it didn’t last long, as we then moved to Qo’noS.”

“The Klingon home world was vastly different, my sister fit in like she was born a Klingon, I had a harder time, but it was the closest thing to family I have ever had, before or since.” she paused for his benefit, letting him digest the information.

“In essence I am a Trill Betaziod hybrid, born on Vulcan, raised on the Klingon home world. Polar opposites I know.” she added with a smile of understanding, “I was raised with all the emotional stability of a Vulcan Master and taught all the martial arts of the Klingon Warriors.” ~deadly~ was the only word that came to mind, but she decided not to add it. Instead she smiled softly and waited for the barrage of questions on that part of her life. Once he understood what she was, he would be able to grasp fully the dramatic difference since she boarded the Galaxy. And maybe he could help to restore her to what she once was.

"This in addition to being telepathic and, I'm assuming, partially empathic? Must have been a difficult childhood for you, especially having such an emotional awareness and yet being raised amongst Klingons who, I am given to understand, have barely an ounce of emotional restraint whatsoever."

Miramon thought of his first encounter with Commander Kol when the Captain had been temporarily relieved of duty. He wasn't sure, but if that man had been typical of Klingons, well, he was very much beginning to sympathise with his current client.

Dhanishta thought about that for a moment perplexed, “It wasn’t as hard as you might have thought. You see I didn’t feel anything. I’m not joking when I say that I was raised like a Vulcan child. When I went to the academy they called me vulcanized. A pun that at the time I didn’t get. Something that led…” she paused for a moment, how much was she willing to share? Chang? – no!

“Any way,” she breezed on, “It didn’t affect me, nothing did. It was like water off a ducks back, as the Teran saying goes. It wasn’t until I was transferred to the Galaxy that I even felt emotions.”

"That's unusual. I spent a lot of time working with Betazoids when I was retraining to become a Counsellor, and they told me that most empathic and telepathic abilities develop during adolescence. Of course, they might have been yanking my chain, so to speak, but I don't think so. Was it simply not the case with you, or did you not feel those abilities until after you consciously opened up to emotions?"

He'd caught her hesitation in her words, as she cut herself off from saying something. It was possible that she was hiding something pertinent, but he wasn't going to press the issue. If she wanted to tell him something, she would do so in her own good time.

"Anyway, carry on."

Dhanishta gave his comment some thought, “To be honest I don’t know when my abilities started. My sister is an empath, though me and her can talk telepathically to each other, in fact we always did. I don’t remember ever talking to her aloud, not properly, not until we went to Trill. My mentor also taught her. I remember that he was proud of me. He wouldn’t say it being Vulcan and all, but during our mind melds I could feel it.” she paused again trying to choose her words carefully so that he would understand. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel emotions, or sense them. I could, but personally I didn’t, its like they were there, but part of me was switched off so that I didn’t respond to them. Does that make sense?” she asked looking up at him.

"It does, yes. You felt your own emotions but choose not to react to them, nor to express them." The Bajoran offered a gentle smirk of amusement. "Sounds like your typical Vulcan. Most people simply assume that Vulcans don't feel, but fail to understand the level of control they possess."

He leaned back, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip of the drink as he did so. Rather than putting it back on the table, he kept it in his hands, enjoying the warmth that he could feel being absorbed into the tips of his fingers. It was a relaxing sensation, now that the drink had cooled to the point whereby it wasn't scalding.

"Anyway, you were working your way up to telling me about Suder, were you not?"

She smiled, “Yes I was.” she chuckled a bit, “Now you know the back story you may understand how unprepared I was for what followed.”

She paused and took a deep breath, “Right about three years ago I was at a batleth tournament. I was doing pretty well and made it through to the finals. My last opponent was a man called Ethan Suder. During the match he let his guard down, and thus I won the match. I declared a rematch due to him not paying attention; I like to win because I’m better, not because he was distracted. During the rematch my sister called out, she was due in on a transport and it had a malfunction. I left the ring and got to the shuttle bay just in time to get her and the others of the ship. That then crashed into the doc and for some reason Suder had followed me down there.” she waved her hands, “In a nut shell I saved his life. Not sure of the details. I was injured too. Anyway later on he came to find me to thank me. I was with Kala and several of our friends from Qo’noS. This only made sense after the coma by the way,” she added, “but something happened when he was in the room. For the first time ever I felt totally lost. Like I was falling into a black hole. I wanted to scream, to cry to kill myself and I felt so angry, so angry at myself, at the world. It was the weirdest feeling. As quick as it came, it left. Left me feeling as if I was going to be physically sick.”

“Once all the drama was over I went back home, I was living on Earth at the time. I worked at Engineering HQ. It was then that I got the transfer to the Galaxy. On my first shift I met my commanding officer, as we all do on our first shift. And my commanding officer just happened to be…..” she trailed off leaving him to fill in the blank.

"Ethan Suder. So he was or perhaps is one of our people, is he? Tell me, when did you first start getting these images of commiting a murder?" Miramon asked. Things were beginning to make a lot of sense now. There was a connection, that was for certain.

Dhanishta closed her eyes for a moment in contemplation, “It was after the coma, when I got back to the ship. I was fine for a few weeks and then, then the Diptharu came. I don’t remember much from that time. In fact I don’t remember anything. That’s what scared me. I stayed in my room for a week solid after I came too in sick bay. It was after that, when I remembered some of the things I had done before the black out that I started to see these things. In fact it was when I was *in* sick bay.” She opened her eyes and stared out across the room, a frown creasing her features.

“It’s always in sick bay, and it’s always at night.” she said coldly.

“When I first came here I couldn’t sleep. For the first year of my service on this ship I had insomnia. I managed to combat it by meditating, a lot. After the ‘Empathic echo’ of Samara I could sleep, but not meditate. That’s when it started. Or at least some of it.” her gaze slowly shifted back to him.

"The Dithparu. Of course." Miramon had almost forgotten that incident. Most of the telepathic members of the crew (which it turned out there had been a lot of) had all had some extremely strange experiences at the hand of an alien race which had, for want of a better term, possessed them. "Is it at all possible that the experience with the Dithparu started provoking these images? I'm not suggesting that they are the cause, necessarily, but certainly they might have triggered the first time."

Still, it struck his as unusual that she would not have a memory of the event she was referring to *before* the Dithparu. By all accounts, commiting an act like murder, something which would clearly prey on her psyche if she had indeed done that, would have remained as sharply in her memory as it would have done before the Dithparu. Which led him to one of three conclusions: a) the Dithparu were responsible, and the images were false, b) someone else was responsible, the Dithparu had simply broken down the barriers that were suppressing the image and it was false or, c) the images were real and she had simply suppressed them until recently.

He honestly didn't believe the third to be true. She had a Vulcan heritage, had been raised on the Klingon homeworld, and was also empathic and partially telepathic. The Vulcans were too much of a reasonable people to engage in the practice of murder, while most Klingons believed murder to be dishonourable - if you wished to kill, you do so with a blade in your hand and your intentions openly declared before you tried to take someone's life, so they could at least defend themselves. And her empathic abilities allowed her to feel the emotions that other people were feeling - the anguish and fear provoked in the moments leading up to someone's death by murder would be such that she would have to hesitate.

However, considering that, he also realised that it was possible for her to have done what she said. After all, that jumble of emotions might have left an imprint upon her after the fact of the event - what she had referred to as an empathic echo. Nonetheless, he didn't think so. It sounded like she was viewing the murder through the eyes of another, but the vividness of them convinced her that she was responsible.

Dhanishta shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know.” she replied solemnly. “Everything is such a blur, it’s so disjointed that I can’t …” she trailed off sinking her face into her hands once more, as if to black out the world and all of this.

“Everything made sense back then. I worked, I slept, I talked to people. I had a life!” she shouted into her palms.

“I used to hold the record for drinking, in fact I could beat a Klingon hands down in a drinking contest. I was a part of them, part of their family.” She looked up at him, “They branded me, and I didn’t scream, see!” she let the bindings on her dressing gown slip to expose her right shoulder and the scar tissue from the brand they had given her in honor.

“I had a life,” she repeated standing up, “I had a future, I knew who I was. I knew how I felt about everything. I was controlled,” she began to pace the length of the couch, “I knew when to fight, I knew how far to go. I knew myself. But now…” she gestured to the space within the room.

“And now I have a record, or at least a potential one. I felt Suders emotions as if they were my own. And I did things, bad things, stupid things. I hit Turan, I assaulted him, and he was a child. I even hit Suder, in fact I had a full blown fight with him in the middle of engineering. Jiiles, I assaulted him too, but that was worse, that was with my mind and Nara too. I could sit here and write up a case for why I should be locked up.” she flapped her arms dejectedly at her sides, “I’m violent, I’m angry all the time. I run form everything. Anything that has the potential to be good I turn away because I am evil. I am sick. I am deranged.”

She turned on him, her tone accusing, “You say it might not be me.” she pointed wildly at him from across the room, “You say that it could be the Diptharu; don’t you think that I didn’t think of that? Don’t you think that it didn’t cross my mind? Don’t you think that for one moment I wish that I …..” she pushed back a sob, blinked back the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes.

“What if it is me?” she asked trembling, “What then?”

"Does it sound like you? If it were you, would you be standing in my quarters, shedding tears because the very thought of it is tearing you apart?" The Bajoran stood up and walked over to her, stopping a little distance away so he could look her directly in the eyes. "That speaks of a strong sense of conscience and personal integrity that you feel this way. Could a person like you murder a child in cold blood? No, I don't think so."

Dhanishta closed her eyes tight, she felt the words as if they were the wind flowing across her skin. Their touch warmed her slightly, but she felt the cold within and shivered. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe that she wasn’t capable of doing the things she saw. But at the same time she knew what she had done since. The guard in the cell; that was murder, what she did to Burton was illegal, against the code of Sentience. What she did to Nara and Jiiles; using her mind against them; that wasn’t right either. The fact that Victor confirmed she was a killer, those things alone pointed to the fact that she couldn’t deny the possibility that she was guilty as hell.

She took a step forward, unable to speak, wanting so much to tell him everything else but still couldn’t, she was too afraid. Covering her face once more as a dam to stop her tears she buried her head into his shoulder and wept.

The Bajoran put his arms around her and just held her there for a moment, really uncertain as to how to proceed. Counsellors were supposed to keep their distance, despite being the proverbial shoulder to cry on. Now he was finding himself in a very literal position in that regard, but didn't move. He could push her away, keep some distance between them, but she needed to find some comfort and apparently he was the closest warm body available.

He wasn't averse to the proximity, but, speaking as a professional, he really needed to help her resolve her issues with this. The scope of it was beyond his training, certainly, but then, Starfleet couldn't have expected to teach anything close to this. Okay, maybe he wasn't an expert on the mysteries of the mind, but there had to be something he could do. Figuring out how was the problem.

"Listen, we are going to get to the bottom of this. I'm confident that you're not responsible for murder, despite the fact that you maybe think otherwise." He spoke essentially into her ear, which was, right now, about level with his chin, forcing him to lower his head slightly. "I'm going to assume that something else is responsible and I will find out what or who. Okay?"

Her head bobbed by his chin and for a moment she felt content with that decision, but she pulled away and looked into his face, “No.” she said in a shaking voice, “I don’t want anyone to know what I am. I can’t take that risk.” she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, “I can handle this. I have so far, more or less.” she indicated his help this evening with a bob of her shoulders.

She looked around the room briefly, her feet twitching, “I should go.” she said suddenly, pulling her gown around her tightly and fastening it she shuffled towards the door feeling as awkward as when she had arrived.

Miramon reached out with a hand and wrapped his fingers around her upper left arm, gently pulling her to a stop and bringing her back to face him, primarily so she would understand that he was being utterly serious.

"Maybe you should go, yes, but don't try and handle this on your own. Perhaps the things I learn might disturb you, but I don't believe in your guilt for a second. I admit, I don't know you beyond your time here this evening, but you don't seem like the person that would kill without cause. I don't think you do, either, and that's what is eating at you. Let me help you."

Dhanishta didn’t make full eye contact, her jaw was set firm, almost as if she was afraid to speak. She nodded once, her body tense, her arm locked in his grip. She stared at his fingers for a moment, feeling a rush of anger; much like when Jiiles pressed her to talk.

Slowly she let her eyes wander up his arm to his face, for some reason she felt angry. But she knew it wasn’t with him. She just wished that she wouldn’t burn this bridge, wished that she knew how to keep a cool head these days. She wanted so much to go back to what she was before, but knew that it would be impossible. She wasn’t the same woman any more and she had to accept that. She just wished that she knew what she was now.

Pushing the sudden rush of negative emotion away she stepped into him and kissed his cheek, “Thank you.” she whispered.

Miramon's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but as she stepped back away from him, he offered her a gentle smile a nod of acknowledgement. "You're welcome. I'm here if you want to talk any more. Day or night."

She smiled once more before turning away. As the door opened Dhani checked the hall for any other insomniacs before stepping out, turning to offer Miramon one last half smile before she departed.

The door hissed closed behind her as she left, and Miramon stood there, just beyond the threshold for a moment, looking at the door as though he were looking through it, thinking about the whole thing. It was going to take some work to find a resolution to those issues, but hopefully there'd be something he could do to help. He didn't like leaving people stuck in an emotional limbo.

First, though, he had to get some long-overdue sleep.

"Good Morning Sunshine"

Commander James Corgan
Crewman Recruit Allison

USS GALAXY SECURITY OFFICES

~"Did... not... sleep... well...."~

On most tired days, the average terran would at least be able to make coherent thoughts with what little processing power their exhaustion addled brains could muster in the morning. Humans had their methods, all unique in the galaxy where drug and alternate therapy were the'cures'. Humans had their coffee, their scalding showers, and their suicidal drives into traffic on morning rush hours.

None of it would have helped James Corgan. He needed tractor beams to pry the sleep from his eyes, and that extra strong cup of coffee he had at Mika's quarters, followed by two more that tasted more like plasma coolant, wasn't enough to fortify him for the day. His concerned girlfriend, with a blue lipsticked kiss on the cheek goodbye followed by a gut wrenching pinch to the bottom, rushed him out the door while there were still spots of light in his eyes.

The vexing problem of his new assistant kept him up all night, and the last sight he wanted to see was that cheery blonde face either giving him a good morning, or a scowl of unbridled hatred. He bet 100 to 1 that it was the latter.

Good morning sunshine!" Allison chirped merrily as she set the steaming cup of coffee on the desk before James Corgan, "How was your night? Did you sleep well?"

The sooner didn't seem like much of a blessing at all. "Eh...." He weakly moaned, the coffee drained without feeling the burning on his tongue. His eyes twitched, his lips curled, as a rush of caffiene jump started his system with as much subtlety as a phase spanner smacking him upside the head.

"No." James Corgan grumbled, "You?"

"Well I for one had a foozle of a time getting to bed," the young blond tittered as she moved about the office straightening up various piles of paperwork and requisition forms, "...I mean I heard of people grinding their teeth and sounding like they're chewing rocks and all.....but HEL-lo...My roomate literally chews rocks. Keep finding little limestone flakes in the couch cushions."

Barely following her half slang, half chatter, James replied, "Liiiimestoooone."

"So anyway." Alli leaned over the desk and gazed deep into James face, her own ice blue eyes flashing. "I was like thinking about what you said on the holodeck y'know.....and at first I was like 'Hello Allison....he like hates you' but then I was like.....'whats not to like?...He's just maintaining a profesional distance right'.....so then I was like 'okay maybe he didnt like my guitar solo' but that wasnt it becasue I like smoked that solo....and......let me know if I'm babbling too much..kay?"

"Okay." Yawned James, his brain processing what was being said, but not the response to it. It was coming to a simple breakdown of what she said. She was rattling off thoughts of what James did and why. The exact details were beside the point.

"Right, well point was I like totally forgive you for being rude and all....kay?" Alli beamed a special smile just for James, "I totally get it that you are like under pressure and all....you know everybody watching you to see if you're gonna screw up and all.....I realize it makes you grumpy at times."

While slowly being raised to conciousness, James Corgan caught thewords 'pressure' and 'screw up' and they both involved him. Still lost and alone, without the aid of his Vulcan assistant/translator/savior, he asked, "What pressure? What screw up? Was I trying to do something for you?"

He hadn't noticed T'lan step in a minute earlier. She watched the spectacle with typical Vulcan bemusement. He walked over to James side, calm as she pleased, and clamped a hand on his shoulder. She crossed the two outer fingers together, and overlapped the middle two over the cross, dug in, and twisted. With a cartilege popping crack, the twist rebooted James systems from the inside out.

"HOoooolllyyyy shiiiitttt!!!!!" James yelped out in pain, but with that sudden jolt came the release of pressure, his muscles relaxing, the blood finally making it to his brain. His vision was clear. All was well in the universe. All of Allison's meandering were starting to make sense.

T'lan glanced at Allison, James coffee mug, and with her all knowing vulcan mannerisms, she said placidly, "Experience and the art of Vulcan neuropressure, in case you were curious."

Point in fact but Allison was not interested in ANYTHING that the pointy earred hussy had to say. Especially when it came to James Corgan. ~~~Excuse me you green blooded Lolita...~~~ Alli projected her thought real hard at T'lan, ~~~...but James is spoken for and doesnt need any of your meddling.~~~

If The Vulcan picked up on Allison's brainwaves, she didnt deign to respond. The uneasy silence lasted until T'lan excused herself from the office leaving James and Alli alone once again.

"Oh..." James said as if something dawned on him (whether it did or not even he didn't know, it was eluding him like a butterfly in asandstorm). "Ok. I comprehend. My mistake. Sorry about that... crewman recruit... Allison. It is properly spoken that way, right?"

"Huh?...Oh yeah its easy......Al-E-son," she enunciated it out clearly, "Say it just like its spelled......oh wait." Alli blushed, "You probably mean the last name thing....yah.....I think just plain old Allison would suffice for now......." she paused and looked up hopefully, ".....although you could call me Alli if you like."

"When i'm off duty." James groggily replied, "For now, i'll address you by rank. Trust me, enjoy it while you can, because in a few decades from now officers will be saluting you no matter what your non comm rank is." Allison started, her blue eyes flashing, "Uh...in a few decades?" she giggled quietly, "Somehow I think in a few decades I'll be pretty much exactly the way I am today.....heh." Alli tapped the stack of papers on the corner of the desk to straighten them. "Well.....if you want, that offer of dinner is still open...but this time I'll buy for you right? That way you wont feel....I dunno......however it is you feel."

~"Confused?"~ James wanted dearly to fill in the blanks, but Mika's lesson was still fresh in his memory. Her stern, but quietly spoken reminder was to keep his mouth shut and his ears open, and so far when he had the right mind to try it, the results were as advertised by his better half. It really worked!

Still ambivilant about the dinner idea, James Corgan's mind took a step back to assess the situation. She was a cute girl, surely attractive enough, but way too young. If James didn't know better, she was most likely a age limit dodger that somehow got through Starfleet's stringent recruiting rules. Officially, James still had a decade and then some over her, and even in the 24th century it was considered a loathsome act.

~"Hey, it's not as if you're robbing the cradle. She's robbing the grave. Think about it, old man. She digs you."~ Came his imagination, a statement best left for his conscience to filter out, file, and bury under 'do not open for the love of your sanity'.

Allisons feeling for him were irrelevant. Her feelings about him were different. If he was to make up for upsetting her, he would have to take a phaser pulse to his pride and accept his punishment.

Alli fell silent, a slightly nervous look crossing her face as she waited for his answer.

"Ok." James Corgan conceded.

"REALLY" Alli gushed, her heart skipping a beat. ~~~ See I told you he liked you.....He was just embarrassed by the guitar thing and all.....~~~

"But...." James warned with a wag in his finger, "Purely professional. Musician to musician. Understood, Crewman Recruit?"

Alli stiffled a knowing laugh. "Right-o boss." she gave him a cute little mock salute, "Purely proffessional.....I understand completely....gotta maintain images and all." She gave him a knowing little wink letting him know his secret was safe with her.

He left the wink with a nod, anticipating the worse that could come with it. "Yes..." he stammered, "Pro...fessional." He slid his chair back with an audible scrape, a weak acknowledgement of which direction he wanted to run.

"Well..." she began, already making plans in the back of her mind. "I have like this total killer recipe for spaghetti........you like garlic right?.......anyhow I figure I can set up a little picnic basket....I'm not usually too much into Holodecks, but at least its private.......anyhow I think we have time......" she paused and consulted a little electronic planner she carried with her, "Yeah.....we got some time before things start happening on the planet........Oh did I mention that I got the reciped from my mother? I think you'd like mom." Alli stopped and giggled. "Sorry.....Im babbling again."

"Oh... it's ok." James stuttered, his plans taking a different return by doing something he never did in the face of a Jem'Hadar battalion; run! "Um... sure... pasta. Yeah. Pasta. Ok... pasta. Let's eat pasta. F**k yeah... pasta. Eighteen hundred hours for... pasta. Ok? I'll bring the red wine... I mean... synthahol... oh... whatever PG rated drink that's popular these days. Well... ummm.." His hand shot out to the In pile on his desk, scraping over the heaping mass to Allison, "Oh look! Paperwork! You better get it done and done right, Crewman Recruit Al-E- son. I'll have T'lan check it over, and you know how meticulous Vulcans are."

"No problemo boss-man" Alli snapped him another cute little salute that was nowhere near regulation.

"Well..." James donned the personality of a man of authority again, "Get to it, Crewman Recruit. Dismissed. See you at.... eighteen hundred... hours."

"Zarky." Allison tittered happily as she scooped up the papers and rushed out leaving a very contemplative James alone with his thoughts.

"Round Table" - Part II

Captain Christopher Summers, USS Miranda (Pat)

Captain Darren M'Kantu, USS Galaxy (Robert)

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes, USS Icarus (Juan)

Captain Tara Reynolds, USS Concorde (Pat)

Captain Rianastarra'cessk, USS Arizona (Kate)

Captain Rebecca Weber, USS Texas (Becky)

Captain Margarethe Vogler, USS Exeter (Brian)

Captain Kent Logan, USS London (Rich)

Captain T'Riele, USS Sao Paolo (Dave)

Captain Amelse Brodey, USS Thunderbird (MJ)

Captain J.P. Albrecht, USS Thunderchild (Dallas)

Captain Raymond Tango, USS Akira (Joe)

Captain Robert DeSoto, USS Hood (Canon NPC)

Captain Tenchi Masaki, USS Mukaikubo (NPC)

Captain Kailea Wrendo, USS Olympic (Ian)

Captain Jonathan DarkSky, USS Typhon (Eric)

Commander Na'sav Lorem, USS Valiant (Chris)

with...

Enriov Donatra, Supreme Commander, Rihannsu Homeworld Galae (Pat)

and introducing...

Marine Lieutenant T'shani sh'Akledor, SFMC Special Intelligence Attache (MJ)

AMIE, AI Construct (MJ)

SECURED HOLOCOM NETWORK SESSION: ROUND TABLE "ROOM"

"One ship?" someone asked for clarification.

It was Donatra who responded: "One man."

"My God," Captain Reynolds whispered under her breath. "That's..."

"Three hundred-thousand Romulan soldiers killed. Not to mention the world of ch'Fira, ch'Talis, and Tholimnar either burned to the ground or under enemy country." Donatra explained.

"Prophets..." Na'sav murmured to himself, folding his hands in his lap and taking a moment to consider the implications. Over a third of a million Romulan military, and only Prophets knew how many civilians on three separate major worlds of the Empire, dead. Even worse, it seemed as if their deaths hadn't even bought time to organize a counter-strike. "Is there any other units standing between Romulus and the invasion force, Admiral?"

Kent looked to Na'sav, "From what I can gather Commander," Logan began, "there are a few. You're looking at us," he finished, gesturing at the starships out of the windows.

The Stagnorian blinked. Yeah... okay... did the Captain think himself particularly intelligent for pointing that out? Na'sav smirked. "Thank you. But I was referring to any possibility of Romulan forces outside of this system and in front of the Hydran axis of advance."

"All we have here is the remains of the home fleet. Sixty ships currently in-system, along with your vessels. We have reinforcements arriving, but they're having to come from the outer edges of the Empire. " came the answer.

"And what of your medical triage efforts, Admiral?" Though silent through much of the exchange, the Betelguesan captain of the Olympic had opted to interject only when it pertained to her skillsets. She'd leave the tactics to those more qualified; she only wanted to preserve lives if at all possible. Such is the antithesis of her place at this front.

"My ship can hardly fulfill the needs of an entire task force and a planet if the need came to it. Starfleet support is still far enough behind to not make a significant difference until well into - and perhaps the end of - the conflict."

"There is no triage to be done." Donatra said flatly. "I did not say there was only one non-casualty from these four battles, Captain. I said there was only one survivor. The only wounded we have are those injured in the rioting on the planet as we speak."

Amelse unconciously leaned over the edge of the solid-black table, a sullen pang of hollowness entering her chest as the Enriov, Donatra, recounted the Romulan's losses. {Three hundred...*thousand* soldiers,} she marveled silently to herself--Commander Na'sav's question, and Captain Logan's answer, hung chillingly in the air between all of them. It was..unthinkable. Amelse had sat on the Federation's Special Foreign Intelligence Panel twice; she had *seen* how tough and disciplined the Romulan Shock Troopers were. It was due to their exceeding training standards that the panel had authorized increased training for Starfleet Security and SFMC Ground Forces, in the first place.

The Hydrans, however....intelligence was frighteningly scarce. Only a few, highly-classified encounters had been reported, much less reviewed. And now, it seemed that the Bugs had some new weapon--they *had* to...how *else* could they have wiped out a quarter of the Romulan Imperial Fleet? And it's best units at that.

"Are there any units even left in the Romulan fleet?!" Captain Vogler interjected, only half-facetiously. "Some," M'Kantu replied quietly. "None of their first tier units, though - at least no first tier units that weren't in spacedock, or on remote assignment."

"There is a question to the exact resources we have available, Captain M'Kantu", T'Riele cautioned in a calm, steady voice. "Our own fleet aside, I would prefer to come to terms with some of the more significant variables in the equation before us, specifically the *exact* number and relative strength of the Rihanssu defenses, as well as the contribution available friom the other power in the area - the Klingon/Reman protectorate. I can't kelp but observe that General Khegh is not present."

Captain Albrect grumbled in, his voice as grinding as slate slabs, grim as the rest of his persona, "Just because he isn't at this meeting, doesn't mean that he will not be there for the fight. If there's a promise for glory, the local Klingons will make it. Don't ever doubt that, as much good as it will do us now." He stopped with a sharp finger pointed skyward, his head tilted down in deep thought, "We can't doubt their bravery, and though we could use the help, I doubt that their presence will cause any major shifts in the balance of power around here. We are still left short handed and blind."

"Don't be so sure." Captain Summers warned. "You're talking about Klingons defending Romulans, J.P. A risky proposition to hang everything on. Khegh still hasn't given us any answers one way or the other."

"Also, much of our fleet is divided attempting to guard critical installations - not to mention all the Senators who've commandeered military units to defend their homeworlds." the Romulan Admiral answered. She didn't appear happy with the circumstances, but there was no way around them, either. They couldn't marshal all forces without leaving any number of significant targets wide open.

"I've already received encoded communiques from several requesting my *personal* support in trade for political favors within the government." Wrendo's nose wrinkled in consternation. "The fact their government as they know it is on the verge of restructuring hasn't caught up to them as yet."

Summers continued from there: "So you can see why we need to mobilize all our resources to keep the peace."

Captain Brodey looked down at the LCARS panel in front of her, tapping a message to Valer on the Thunderbird:

[XO, RIG SHIP FOR YELLOW ALERT, CONDITION 1. ALL MARINES DEPLOY TO SURFACE PER 101ST CO ORDERS. HAVE THE MAJOR PREP HER SQUADRONS FOR CAP DEPLOYMENT IMMEDIATELY.]

Silently, she hit "Send". A few moments later, an acknowledgment pulsed on her display.

Coldly, Albrect ordered from the bridge of the Thunderchild, "Commander, deploy all of our security platoons on the surface. Be sure they're all armed and equipped for a siege."

=/\="Aye sir."=/\= said a rumbling, baritone voice that bled through from his comm channel distantly.

And as if to add it on off handedly, he ordered, "Compile a list of the most potentially contestable battlezones and deploy the 88th Last Chancers Regiment to the hardest one." In his career, he gave the order more than once. A regiment of security personnel known for handling 'problem' cases, The Last Chancers was a Thunderchild signature. It held some of the most unruly, unstable, or plain meanest security officers in the fleet. During the Dominion War, The Last Chancers were in the toughest battlezones, known far and wide as Shock Troopers of the highest calibre.

They also held one of the most horrendous casualty lists in any regiment's history. It was well known that a Last Chancer won his last chance or died, and after years of holding the regiment in his ship, J P Albrect was used to giving the order that send hundreds to earn their last chance, with many of them not making it.

To put such a statement of fact into such a casual, matter of factly way reviled J P Albrect to the rest of the captains, but his cold nature dared anyone else to challenge it.

During this time Captain Jonathan DarkSky arrived into the conference call. The Stellar Cartography lab had been the only location on the Typhon that had been able to interface with the proper communications protocols and only after several hours of work and modifications. He was thankfull his science staff, minimal as it was, didn't have use for the facility all to often.

It did not take long for Jonathan to catch up. Looking down to the consol before him, he too issued his orders: <<Recall CERBERUS Group from standard CAP deployment; rearm and replenish in preparation for full scale conflict. Inform LADON Company Comander to prepare to defend against possible boarding parties.>> Looking up, he nodded his readiness. Typhon was the last of the ships to receive her orders.

Nearly ten minutes later, all the Captains had finished issuing the orders that would deploy whatever forces they could muster to the surface of Romulus.

DeSoto was the first to talk then. "Have we gotten any data about the attacks?"

"Yes." Chris replied. "The senior staffs of the Miranda and Galaxy have already seen the first recording - my Intel people were able to turn it up. Admiral Donatra also brought a recording that the survivor from Tholimnar had aboard his fighter. To better explain, I've called in an expert on the Hydrans. Lieutenant?"

All eyes turned in the direction of Chris's gaze. Although there seemed to be no doors in this holo-recreation of a meeting room, there was a "back" alcove--opposite the panoramic space-windows. The dim blue lighting perfectly silhouetted a smooth, tall form that, to some spectators, had not existed a moment before. At Summers' request, the figure shifted, then began to move around the table's periphery while still bathed in the contrasting shadows cast by the accent lights.

The figure stepped forward, into the light, revealing an cerulean-skinned, gorgeous Andorian shen with shoulder-length platinum-white hair and two long, elegant antennas which swiveled either way as she took in the encircling audience. Well-built, her toned, womanly physique belied the amazing strength and reflexes indicative of her race. Pursing her dark, full lips together for a moment, she waited for everyone's attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the shen began in her rich, smoky voice, extinguishing the hushed murmurs. "Marine Lieutenant T'shani, Special Intelligence Attache, Hydran Sector," she said by way of introduction. Smoothly,her gaze met each of the commanders gaze lingering at both Brodey and M'Kantu--her former COs--and Summers, her current.

Her blaze-yellow continued their appraisal, finally resting on the Romulan, Donatra. T'shani did her best not to sneer, or show any other signs of antagonization. Though she wasn't thrilled about helping the cursed Greenbloods, she had her orders, direct from Commander, SFMC, himself. She would carry out her missions...at all costs.

After a few awkward moments of silence, T'shani continued: "AMIE, please show us holo-recording nine-seven beta." The petite form of a short Terran female with bright, short-cut blond hair and piercing blue eyes immediately shimmered into existence, to the surprise of some of the seated commanders. She wore an Intel Black collar, sans any kind of rank device.

"Certainly, Lieutenant," the mystery-woman replied. Suddenly, the room lights dimmed, and a holo-projection leapt onto the center of the blackened table--seemingly at this "AMIE's" command. By way of explanation, T'shani offered, "Commanders, AMIE, our Autonomous Monitoring and Intelligence Entity, is a Class IV self-aware construct, on loan to us from SFMC R&D," she said simply, omitting the fact that "she" was actually a Red Division proprietary project. Turning back to the holo-entity, Tish prompted her with a flick of an antenna. The image unfroze, the time index rotating at the bottom of the vid feed indicating that these events took place 8 days ago.

The image was a bit fuzzy, most likely a long-range sensor scan from one of the "research" telescopes in Andorian space that straddled the Romulan Neutral Zone. AMIE frowned, momentarily, then squinted her eyes. Instantly, the image cleaned up, and a magnificent blue-green sphere leapt into field as the telescope increased its magnification.

"Judaris," Tish heard Enriov Donatra whisper coldly under her breath. "But how..." the Rihannan woman wisely cut off her own protestation, deciding to simply watch.

"What the hell..." someone--it sounded like Albrect, or maybe Tango--growled from the perimeter. The Captain's comment drew everyone to a strange... distortion that was quickly forming about 20,000 kilometers from the nearest Judari moon. The space twisted, turned, and seemed to roil and fold inside itself, distorting the light from Judar Major, the system's "sun".

"...Is that?" T'shani finished for him. "That, Captains, is the Hydran's newest star-drive technology, stolen from the Tholians and organically incorporated into their newest ship designs." She didn't mention that it had also be stolen, retrieved, and re-stolen by both the Federation and Romulan special technology interests, several times. Tish couldn't help but notice Donatra's lips upturning slyly. Of course, the Enriov knew.

"They call it 'Shadowbringer', do they not?" Donatra asked the shen directly, her voice cattily toying with the Andorian attache.

"Yes, *Enriov*," T'shani hissed, knowing full-well that Donatra would know it was Tish's team that had recovered the technology from the Romulans, in the first place. "It is the 'Shadowbringer'."

The rest of the commanders remaining silent, Amelse Brodey couldn't help but watch, transfixed, as a Hydran fleet...morphed (would be the best word for it) into normal-space. The invading fleet was *huge*--at least 30 to 40 capital ships complimented by a phalanx of smaller supply, escort, and gun ships. A hundred, hundred and twenty ships total perhaps.

Moments later, the Rihannsu's Second Galae uncloaked, massive D'deridex and Valdore-class cruisers--as well as other smaller corvettes--unloading a blinding salvo of disruptor energy at the oncoming Hydrans, whose shielding absorbed most of the blows. A few of the smaller escorts were taken down by the Rihannsu, but not in time for...

"My God," Amelse breathed aloud, utterly awestruck by what emerged next from the Hydrans interspatial rift. "What is that...some sort of creature?" she asked, watching as it lashed the Galae to bits with it's kilometers-long tentacles.

"It is nhiel'strurier: the Star Beast," Donatra supplied.

The holo-vid skipped forward in hourly intervals. First, the Second Galae was obliterated. Next, the Hydran ships encircled the planet, and began a full-scale orbital bombardment. In literally minutes, the Bug's mighty Hellbores had cut most of the major planetary defense centers right from the planet's crust, not unlike the Borg. Twenty minutes later, they Hydrans were landing troop-carriers.

AMIE blinked, pausing the recording and bringing the lighting back up to its normal setting. T'shani turned, facing the massive space-windows, looking upon the ships outside, and the planet below them. {They are your sworn enemies,} part of her mind said. {Let them die!} But another, quieter voice intervened: {They will cut across space to the Federation with blinding speed, Tinis,} it said. {They will show even less mercy than the Romulans showed you, so long ago, on Seltaxis.}

The second recording played after that, with predictably similar results. Chris Summers had seen both the recordings already - his attention was now focused on everyone else. The old human's eyes met with the Andorian Lieutenant's, and he saw, for just a moment, what was clearly in her mind.

'No,' Chris thought, 'I don't think they'll be showing any mercy at all. To any any of us.'

"Game Update Logs"

Captain's Log, Stardate 50609.02

"It feels good to be back... home... again. Having been away for several months on re-assignment to Earth to undergo my competency hearing instituted my Admiral Proctor, I hadn't quite understood Admiral Price's feelings towards his old command until I stepped foot on her deck plating. He'd said she would eventually feel like a loved one; most of my fellow Captain's also made mention of a ship and its Captain become 'married' in a sense. I believe I finally understand them. I've come home and I don't intend to be evicted again. I dare anyone to try."

---

Captain's Log, Stardate 50609.04

"It's been two days since transferring back to the Galaxy, and tensions are rising. The Senate has been strangely silent since requesting assistance in the defense of their planet. Intelligence from the Miranda and Galaxy's departments have been able to acquire sensor telemetry of the loss of the Second Galae at Judaris, and the outlook is quite grim with the information and imagery presented of the Hydran 'Starbeast'. We will stand fast, though, regardless of the Rihannsu's penchant for intrigue and arrogance."

---

Miranda CAG (Mitchell) Personal Log, Stardate 50609.07

"This is aggravating. First this damn indictment crap, now I'm told I can't fly with my pilots because I'm not *technically* certified for combat action in the Rogues. I wonder if the JAG will try and charge me with not breaking the law to be with my squad regardless? Frak them. I'm taking an AWACS up anyways. I may not be able to get involved with the real action up there above the planet, but I can at least take some part on the planetary defense.

"It took some real manhandling of the Enriov to at least get singularity ghost frequencies for the fighters so we don't get taken down by the passive network. I had no time or patience to supply him with the warp signature codes and frequencies of the craft. It would take too long to input into their system, and then if the planet falls, the damn Hydrans would have all that, too. Not a chance. I had to guarantee the self-destruction of all our equipment and craft if and when they fall to the advance, though. That'll be an expensive replacement, but a worthy trade.

"With all the capital ships arriving in the system, most of the CAPs have brought a rotation of pilots down to the surface for checking in and receiving assignments. A lot of them are green and never seen space or aerial combat outside a simulator before. I've tried to include at least one Romulan Scorpion for every pair of our own pilots assigned planet-side to form a three-man wing. Some have gotten two. Riov Jelok would have it no other way. He's a bit of a prick. We'll see how he shows up in battle.

"As for the Marine deployments, I've made sure they all have an active three-person CAP with or near them at all times. Arvelion better make sure he does his job, that's all I gotta say. I'll be watching closely."

---

Captain's Log, Supplemental

"After having read Lieu- Commander Tarin's, rather, report, from Cheron, it concerns me as to what agenda the Klingons are contemplating. They are currently enjoying a non-aggression treaty with the Hydrans and have no love for the Rihannsu. Yet, I cannot put aside the notion of a Klingon force shying away from combat of any type, even if it means siding against the Federation. It is not a position I would choose to be in with the Klingon Council, no matter the potential for raising a flag on Romulus.

"The only position I can imagine from their perspective is that they would prefer to have been the conquering force, instead of requiring assistance from an anti-Federation government. Though, perhaps, they would wish the depletion of all forces, and brush aside any remaining resistance for themselves. They strike me as the Soviet Union had during Earth's Second World War, and entering the fray on the emerging victor's side at the end of the battle in order to politically declare their intentions without committing to the world effort, yet claim some of the spoils of war. It would be the logical approach from a military force without the means to engage in hostilities with two major forces. Still, they and Remans are an unknown in this endeavour. Neither government is responding to hails."

---

Captain's Log, Stardate 50609.08

"The Task Force increases in size with each passing hour. The USS Exeter, commanded by my old Academy classmate, Maggie Vogler, has arrived in the system along with the USS London, Thunderbird - commanded by yet another former crewmate in Captain Albrecht - Valiant, and several support craft. We now number 16 capital and heavy attack ships. I can bet - if I were a betting man - that if the Rihannsu weren't so caught up in their own internal politics and defensive preparations, they would be quite irate at having such a large force encircling their planet and system perimeter. There are still more on their way, including the USS Olympic and her support craft of hospital ships. They will not arrive for several hours yet, of which I hope it will not be too late. In the meantime, Admiral Donatra has informed us that what remaining system ships are in the area will converge on the homeworld's position, while the Third, Fourth, and Seventh Galaes have been dispatched to meet the oncoming forces head-on. Tactical had advised against the strike, but the Rihannsu are determined to win this battle on their own if they can. If only they could see past their pride..."

---

Captain's Log, Supplemental

"The three Galaes have been destroyed to a man, I'm told, and riots are beginning to break out on ch'Rihan. Long-range sensor reports have determined the Hydran forces took only minor losses, and the Starbeast continues on unabated and unmolested. The latest communiqués from Starfleet Command have the Council itself in closed session over the requested forces redirected here to make a stand. From what I've been told, there is heavy opposition to the re-assignment of so many ships from highly sensitive and defensible locales to maintain a stand with the Rihannsu Empire. Ironically enough, it comes from the side of the Hawks, who would rather see our Dominion War allies fall by the wayside rather than honor our ties. Until the Council comes out of its deliberations, the forces that will be arriving during the next 24 hours will be the last, and if we cannot repel the Hydrans during their initial assault, then we are to break away from the fighting and return to Federation space. The order to recall all Federation citizens and Starfleet personnel from ch'Rihan and its neighboring systems has been made the primary objective. The order to reject the Rihannsu personnel has also been made, but fortunately very few have requested evacuation, electing to remove themselves to their own worlds. On the other hand, not having learned the previous errors of splitting their forces, most of the Senators who have left for their own strongholds have demanded what remaining ships be diverted to their planets. The situation is quickly spiraling out of control and still no formal assistance has been requested of us in nothing other than the form of sentries and coordination efforts with a military force sorely lacking in organized leadership."

---

Captain's Log, Supplemental

"The Commanding Officers of all 17 capital ships in the taskforce are about to be briefed. As I'm behind in schedule after coordinating departmental efforts on the Galaxy with all other ships, and approving of the sensor and defense network between all of our ships, I will be arriving later than I had hoped. Time is not a luxury we all have, so I will continue this log at a later date."

---

Marine 2nd Lieutenant Khrystyne Carlisle's Personal Log, Stardate 50609.09

"I'm recording this while in descent to ch'Rihan. I may not get another chance to. My team has been dispatched as a peacekeeping force in a district just outside Ki Baratan. Apparently there are some highly sensitive areas some kilometers outside the main city, but we haven't been told what they are. The Colonel in charge of our - in fact all the SFMC personnel in the taskforce - has divided out the enlisteds and given them squad tasks in patrolling and maintaining orderly evacuations outside the main city. The really vicious rioting that has been impeding the efforts of those within Ki Baratan haven't reached this far out yet, so we've been given the task of making sure artillery emplacements and defensive network attenuators are undamaged. In my squad, I've got Shade and Chuckles, my regular companions, and a few others I haven't been introduced to yet from other ships in the task force, though we won't be working close together.

"Personnel numbers are hardly enough to defend an entire planet, and maintain the peace amongst millions. We've not even been told if the Romulan Ground Forces are working with us. Sarge told us not to bother thinking about it. Well, we've landed, and it's time to get to business. Flatline out."

---

Kylar Curran's Personal Log, Stardate 50609.09

"It may be that I will be able to regain my honor after all. After being advised by the Romulan Senate and the remaining members of the Federation Embassy here in Ki Baratan that I now represent the Federation regardless of official record, I have no choice but to remain here on the planet even had I wanted to depart. My leg braces allow me some movement, but no marathons will I be running.

"I've made many requests to speak with the remaining Senate members, but internal politicking and bickering have left me waiting in the lobby for several hours. It is more likely they are making every effort to avoid following through on their request for assistance, and hoping the Hydrans will see the Starfleet presence as an affront, to turn their weapons on the so-called 'saviors' rather than the crippled planet.

"Never in the history of ch'Rihan has an enemy come so close, and been in such a position to decisively rend away the coreworlds of a species who is more likely to be insulted that they will be conquered before the Vulcans than having lost. They would sooner lose every last man to the pounding guns than give up all that they have attained. It is admirable, even if the Senate that has fostered that patriotic pride is running away to let their planet fall to the invaders.

"I watch the city from the arches encased on the south side of the Senate chambers, and can't help but feel saddened by those that are taking advantage of the lax security protocols to inflict damage on its people and aesthetics. Ah, the Senate now calls for me. I will pick up this recording at a later time."

----

OOC: If any of the department heads want to chime in and let us know what their department is currently up to with a quick breakdown of what's been happening there, shoot me a quick 'Chiefs Log', so I can compile it and send it in as an up-to-the-minute update for all the writers. Or send it in yourself, but make sure in the subject line that it says it's an update so I can take you off the harass list.

"Updating my Log"

Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

"Chief Flight Controllers Log, Supplemental. Lieutenant John Ramirez recording. Miranda's Flight Control Department is just about as ready as we'll ever be. I've still not met with my opposite number on the Galaxy, and it seems that I won't get the chance. I'm actually not that bothered, what difference will it make. I don't even think I need to know everything. I'm the one thats supposed to fly this crate, when those who do know things tell me too.

For all I know, that could be soon. I hear that the fleets Captains are meeting, trying to make sure each other knows everything probably. I'm glad I'm not in their shoes. This Fleet is gonna have a lot to do before long, how long its gonna be I don't know, but I think it'll be all too soon for us all."

End Log"

John had tried to arrange a meeting with his counterpart on the Galaxy, hoping to get the chance to meet his opposite number, and hoping to get an update on the happenings on Romulus. For now though, it seemed that nothing was going to come of it. Paperwork mounting, John almost considered getting started on some of it.

Instead though, he stood, and glanced out the Window. The Galaxy Mark III Class starship looked awesome against the backdrop of Romulus itself. The other ships dotted here, there and everywhere had there own beauty to them as well. Both the Romulan ships and the Starfleet Vessels. Even ch'Rihan. He just stood there and looked, wondering when the shit would hit the fan.

"Tactical Talk"

Lieutenant Shiarrael t'Khnialmnae, CTO USS Miranda

Lieutenant Nieca Rey'ol, ACTO USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda

LtJG Chris Daniels, Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

SCPO. Renora Loret, Tactical Analyst, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Davis Diesel, CTO USS Typhon (Eric NPC)

Lieutenant Rickel ElDaran, ACTO USS Thunderchild (Chris NPC)

Conference Meeting

USS Galaxy Tactical Staff

USS Miranda Tactical Staff

and assorted others

"I am not amussssed", the large reptilian hissed. His thick arms crossed, Th'Khiss K'aa couldn't help but express his extreme dissatisfaction about Starfleet's lack of knowledge concerning the enemy they were about to face. "We have received nothing from Intelligence - only rumorsss of sssome form of organic sssuper weapon or vesssel. Projectionsss from the data we have gleaned from the fightercraft in our shuttlebay indicate we have grosssly underessstimated Hydran firepower, and the weaponry on board datesss from before the recent Hydran fleet buildup - it isss highly unlikely they have ceasssed weaponss development in the passst three yearssss."

"Tactical hasss received nothing asss far as new developmentsss", he continued as the brow over his large, yellow eyes narrowed, "*or* the specificsss of what happened to the firsssst Rihansssu fleet to meet the Hydransss. We have only vague rumor and outdated conjecture to form an effective ssstrategy."

"Not to mention the recent biological developments the Hydrans have been working on." The green eyed Caitian sitting in the corner loudly protested. "The Galaxy herself encountered their cloning technology. And while the information we recovered is new and still under investigation by Starfleet, it is another aspect of warfare that must be taken into consideration." Lt. Rey'ol's tail skipped and danced in frustration over the slow politics that were The Federation. "I feel it would be in our best interest to greatly over estimate the Hydrans."

Chris leaned closer to the table and pulled up a data screen. "On that note, this is our best guess of the current capabilities of the Hydran forces. This is merely an iteration based on the technology of the starfighter, which was 3 years younger than the 'most current' data that we previously had, dating our tactical data back to 6 years ago. Intelligence had no further data on them either. If reality holds true to the iteration, we have a pretty daunting task at hand. I suggest we get with our respective engineering departments and around the fleet to get them working on a shield modification to prevent their fusion cannon from being able to punch through our defenses. Somehow, they've gotten intelligence on us, while ours has remained--" he stopped and suppressed his anger "--incredibly stagnant."

Shiarrael was thankful for the fact that Miranda was serving as the fleet Flagship when it came to the terms of Tactical coordination. There may have been Tactical officers who outranked her and she would certainly pay them all respects due their experiences and rank, but this was her CIC. Therefore all of the invited guests were seated about the table in the large briefing room in Miranda's tactical complex. "The Rihannsu Naval Intelligence is the current premier intelligence agency here, as opposed to the Tal'Shiar," She said from one end of the table. "However, neither agency has been able, or more likely is unwilling, to provide any information, though some has been obtained and was presented to the Department Heads in one of our recent staff meetings. An entire Galae, or fleet, and the Second to be specific was completely wiped out within the past week." She paused to let that soak in to those assembled before continuing.

"On station within this system is the bulk of at least one fleet, the First Galae, and possibly elements of at least two to three others. Add the Federation Task force, and we more than double the number of ships available to do battle. Many of your craft support at least one element of fighter craft, others more." LT Diesel, hailing from the USS Typhon, nodded, as Shiarrael continued. "This, coupled with the Rihhansu fighters gives us a high hand in any fleet engagement. However Lt. Rey'ol has made a very valid observation. The Hydrans are sporting organic based technology, and part of the information presented featured what apears to be a large, spacefaring organism which by itself decimated the Second Galae." She stopped here, to allow others to present their information.

The Gorn Tactical officer from the Miranda activated the controls on his console to bring up a text file on the main monitor. The left hand column displayed two forms of alien character fonts - one, flowing and graceful, the other like they were marks scratched on the screen with claws, the right a translation in Federation Standard. "Thisss hasss no tactical value, but perhapsss a ssstrategic one. I have reviewed anthropological resssearch from Federation, Gorn and Kzinti archivessss to make an informal review of elementsss of Hydran sssociety - I believe there are sssome elementsss that may have ssstrategic value."

K'aa rose to his full height and highlighted two symbols of text. "I won't bore you much with the political sssstructure of Hydran sssociety - it'sss a byzantine monarchy of vassst complexity. Essstimatesss figure the population of the Royal Family to be about 31,000 beings, with 3,400 attaining the rank of prince or princess. The complexity of familial tiesss isss ssstaggering, but inconsssequential to our current circumsnancesss."

"Thesssse charactersss", he specified while pointing them out with a talon, "are of two religiousss cultsss in the Hydran mythosss - the Ulazhi, and the Muriyz. Both cultsss center on the worship of the Fazzu-ur, a type of large, migratory space-faring organism, but differ radically in dogma. The Ulazhi are called "the Hunters", and ssseek persssonal and ssspiritual triumph through the capture of thessse "ssstar beasssts". It isss posssible that the Cult hasss succeeded in harnesssing one or ssseveral of thessse creaturesss to usssse asss a weapon, but thisss issss purely conjecture on my part. Gorn and Kzinti archivessss offer only second-hand Hydran dessscriptions of the organismsss, and the vocabilary isss ressstricted to a purely religiousss context - consssider it the 'Holies of Holies' in Hydran religion."

"The Muriyz revere the Star-Beastsss, but assss mentioned usssing a completely different dogma", K'aa continued. "They believe that no being isss worthy of touching something asss sacred assss the Fazzu-ur, and any attempt to do ssso issss the highessst sssacrelige. Typically, they are more fanatic in their beliefsss and are willing to kill Ulazhi for their faith."

The reptilian looked down from the display to the Tactical staff before him. "Asss I sssaid, of little tactical importance but perhapsss sssome ssstrategic value. I'd like to sssuggessst, asss a precaution, a classss one probe be modified on each ship to scan organic targetsss. Should one of thesssse creaturesss actually be usssed assss a weapon, we had better be able to obtain data asss quickly asss posssible to defeat it."

Sitting, K'aa couldn't help but make one verbal, sarcastic clawstrike at one of the sources of his frustration. "Naturally, I've forwarded a copy of the resssearch to Intelligence - but I'm certain they already possess the data."

"OK, so we have three distinct systems, biological cloning, fusion weaponry, and this supposed space beast, all being used by the Hydrans. Simple fact of the matter people...how do they use them together and how do we beat it? We've been caught with our pants down and don't have much time to figure out how to beat these buggers." The question was posed by LT ElDaran, the Thunderchild's ACTO.

Chris looked across the table. "We found one weakness in their fusion systems...ok, well two. The first is that they have a power drain in their shields when they fire them in rapid succession...we think. The second is that if directly targeted and hit, the fusion cannon can produce an energy feedback surge that could travel far enough upstream to cause significant damage to a lot of their systems." He rubbed his eyebrow. They were making this up as they went along,and it wasn't a comforting feeling.

Renora who had entered late, having been to the combined hazard/arc tactical breifing, spoke up. "Problem with that is that it requires a precision shot WHILE they are firing in rapid sucession, not a pleasant prospect." She paused. "Regarding this 'space beast' they're using to attack the vessels, and we assume that it is biological in nature, could something like dominion polaron weaponary be used to disable it?

"Ussse of an organic like a "Ssstar Beassst" iss a new tactic for the Hydransss", K'aa rumbled. "Hrsssss....I like the polaron idea - and would like to tessst the theory againssst T'Kith T'Kin nano-cells. I believe the ssstepsss the Hydransss have taken from capturing the leviathansss and controling them isss timed too well with their new alliesss. These cellsss have been usssed on Ssstarfleet persssonel to control their actionsss in the recent passsst - they may have been modified to command the Hydran Fazzu-ur." More teeth than usual appeared from behind the reptilian's lips. "The polaron beam hasss the added benefit of exposssing cloaked shipsss - while it would be of great value in finding the Hydransss and their sssecret weapon, our alliesss the Klingonsss and Rihansssu may be distressssed at having their fleetsss revealed."

"Something I'm concerned about is the fighters." This came from Lieutenant Diesel. "The typhon is a carrier, and thus holds a proportinately larger compliment of small craft for a standard ship of the line of her size and weight category would suggest. Under Captain DarkSky we have begun to operate more as a large fighter ourselves than as a capital ship. As such our units operate much closer to home than would normally be expected. Are there any ideas anyone has concerning field mods to the fighter weapons, to mae them more effective against biorganic and organic technology and organisms on the Macro scale besides retrofitting them with polaron beam emitters?"

Renora osserd her head back and let the air out of her lungs as she thought. Seh cliked her tongue and then said. "Hollow pointed torpedos?"

The Gorn flicked the nitcitating membranes of his large eye. "Hollow pointed torpedoessss? Hrnnnnsssss... I am not... familiar with this odnance - explain pleassse."

"Way back when, on twenteth century earth, hollow point rounds were banned as cruel and inhumane. The principle is that the tip is like a soup bowl. The thin edges cut a clean entry wound but tear a massive exit wound. Against an unarmoured fleshy target they would be devastating..." She pasued. "Of course we don't know if the space beast is a unarmoured fleshy target. Maybe when the Hazards and ARCs get back they'll be able to take some data of the derelicts."

"I would think a creature capble of sssurviving in deep ssspace would have some form of armor, but the idea hasss merit", K'aa observed. "An armor-piercing warhead, perhapsss? Alssso, I would not wait for the Hazardsss to return before implementing sssome kind of tactical defence - there isss the posssibility they will not return."

"I wouldn't count on them being home in time for the party," Shiarrael interjected. A number of icons were flashing red on her display, icons that did not bode well. "Orders are coming down the line from every Captial ship CO: 'Report to your stations.'" Shia smirked and stood. "Take what we've discussed here home with you, and keep it near and dear to heart. We are the first line of defense for our respective vessels. Good Luck, and may the Elements smile on us all."

Second Officer's Log - USS MIRANDA Commander Felicia Khatroweena

Stardate 50609.10 - Romulus

The current morale of many of the bureaucracy here on the planet is very low. I still find it amazing that rumour can move so fast. Fact or fiction, many of the Romulans that were only a couple days before, full of pride of their race and disdain for the Federation, now are looking for some form of reassurance from the same that they held in disdain. Damn the official propaganda - the short time I have spent with them has proven more to me than any words from Ambassador Spock.

The Romulans are a people and many of them are scared for their families, their friends and lastly themselves.

Gretanis Doranis, a Romulan civilian in the Romulan Defence Forces had offered me a very subtle bribe, one that I was able to ignore with the interruption of her children entering the room. A 'bribe' I found very hard to ignore, she wanted me to take her children with me, to the Miranda.

Due to restrictions of travel...

<Log Interrupted>

Corporal Leganzo of the Marines, has me heads down behind the official vehicle, it seems some of the population see us as the cause of the problem, or at least getting rid of us, will rid them of the problem. We are under fire from a sniper; he is sending some of his men and the Romulan escort to deal with the person.

This is not a good sign, it is showing the crack in the population, they will need to be together.

<Log Pause>

They got the sniper, she is alive and is being taken to the local hospital for treatment. But there are reports of more and more violence around the city. Transport isn't available, so it looks like I'll be a little late to my next meeting.

End Log

=====

Squadron Leader Log, Renegades - USS MIRANDA Major Véronique St Melisande

Stardate 50609.15 - USS MIRANDA

Full mobilisation is ready, I'm finding it hard with some of the intel that is dribbling through, huge space monsters - bah.

The Corsairs are being readied for independent operation, this is sounding a lot like when we lost Survivor. I'm getting all the same vibes. The same bad vibes!

Oh, shit - who the fuck is Major Matasuko and why do they have the right to fucking down Mitchell. Sure he turned into virtual crispies on his first trans-atmospheric re-entry emergency. But he passed, by the skin of his two front teeth, but he qualified. When I'm out of this and crawl up this Major's ass - not enough time on 'SAT G NOPs' I had two weeks to get him to qualify. He qualified! End of story.

<Log Pause>

Renegade been put on the CAP, we've got A45: 17 - 138. Damn puts us right on the edge, but then that is where Renegade does it's best work. We'll be one of the first, when the Hydrans stick there nose in, we'll be shooting it off.

Hot damn.

End Log

"Counsellor's Log"

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor, USS Galaxy

-------------------------

Miramon Terrik's Quarters, Deck 5

"Computer, run a check on ship personnel. Search for a crewmember using the following criteria: female, aged between 20 and 35 standard years, born of Trill and Betazoid heritage, qualified to perform work on EPS Conduits and other Engineering systems."

"Working."

"Of course you are," Miramon said with a slight sigh of exasperation as the computer began running a scan through the ship's manifest, looking for the person he had indicated. It was amusing to him that, though the young woman that had only recently left his quarters had been quite happy to give him a short life-history, she had never once given her his name. He hadn't exactly prompted her to do so, that was true, but he really hadn't found a moment to do so. What was he supposed to say? 'Sorry to interrupt your crying, but what's your name'? But she had at least narrowed it down for him.

She had, though, left him some clues as to her identity. He had guessed her age range (although it was difficult to tell with some species), she was very obviously female, had told him outright that she was half-Trill, half-Betazoid, and since her little story had mentioned working on the EPS grid, he could only assume she was an engineer. Okay, it wasn't a great deal to go on, but how many people aboard this ship could fit that criteria? Probably half the engineering staff, knowing my luck, he thought with a slightly wry smile.

He'd tried going to sleep as soon as she'd left, since it was already quite late when she arrived for an impromptu counselling session. But, after much tossing and turning trying to get himself comfortable, he'd given up. Sickbay, he knew, would be happy to provide a gentle sedative for insomnia, if he'd bothered to mention it, but he usually found himself better off if he got whatever was bothering him off his mind first. Certainly the woman had quite a lot to do with that - though he did his best to deny that her close proximity hadn't bothered him at all. No, this was purely a case of professional curiousity and the need to do something. She obviously needed help, so he was going to do his best to provide it.

"1 Match Found."

The computer beeped at him, and he turned back to the desk from his position standing infront of it, turning his desktop console around so he could see the results displayed.

"Display match."

The console changed from the Starfleet logo against the backdrop of darkness to the personnel file he had called up with his search. An image appeared on the screen, along with a scrawling amount of text on the right side next to it - all basic information, including name, date of birth, planet of origin etc. The usual sort of thing. The woman in the photo was definately her - Dhanishta Eshe, according to the profile. Full lieutenant, Engineering division. 29 years of age. She looked younger in the photo, although that might simply have been the result of having been less tired than she had been when he had met her, and also a little less mentally exhausted, which certainly described how she'd looked. The woman he was looking at was awake, fresh and enthusiastic. Not something that ever lasted long when you served aboard a starship.

"Computer, show me psychological records for Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe from her service aboard USS Galaxy."

The computer image changed, removing the photo and basic biographical information, replacing it with the more detailed psychological data that came straight from the Counselling offices. There was a lot there, that's for sure - most of it coming from Dallas, but the looks of things. Considered emotionally unstable, observations regarding increased psychokinetic ability - something he'd witnessed for himself a little earlier on. And, prominently mentioned, the information they had on record regarding her 'empathic echo' experience, as she had put it. Alongside that was a notation from her medical records:

"Eshe was brought to sick bay by Commander Suder. She was unconscious with no injuries. She regained consciousness three days later and returned to engineering, Commander Suder reported her presence. A medical team was sent down along with Counsellor Dallas. Eshe believes that she sustained injuries whilst working in the EPS conduits. Counsellor Dallas reports that Eshe described the exact same incident that disabled the previous chief of engineering one, Samara. Dallas believes that Eshe experienced a empathic echo. Dallas has arranged counselling for Eshe, and Suder has agreed that she will work from her quarters and we will monitor her from sick bay."

More concerning was her apparent history of self-inflicted harm, several of which looked like suicide attempts. What was bothering her so much that she would try to take her own life? The more he read, the more concerned he was getting. In fact, he was tempted to call security and make sure she was watched so that she didn't end up doing anything quite so dangerous - to herself or to others. She'd not exactly left his quarters in a composed manner, and her history with such things really concerned him.

Still, he forced himself to choose the path of restraint for the moment. It was curious that nobody had bothered to check out the fact that another member of the crew had suffered a similar empathic echo in that are before. What had Suder been doing, sending a known empath down to work in an area where such an echo had occurred before? It was both irresponsible and incredibly odd. The Bajoran walked around his desk now, turning the console to following his movements so he could sit down and continue reading.

None of this made sense, at all. He couldn't reconcile so many factors. The images she saw now, that of the murder of a child, didn't seem to match her personality. And, yet, she was prone to self-harm and had experienced a number of particularly traumatic events that could easily have caused her to become emotionally vulnerable. Twice now had she suffered major issues with regards to Suder - the empathic echo and then, of course, the coma. Moreso disturbing was the fact that she'd only had a single counselling session after her experience with the Dithparu as of the end of 2382 - an experience she couldn't even remember. Putting everything together, he couldn't help but feel concerned. This didn't sit well at all.

He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, his legs crossed over at the ankle.

"Computer, begin Counsellor's Log, using standard confidentiality protections."

The console beeped and switched to a blank screen with nothing more than a blinking cursor, waiting for him to dictate the log that would be submitted to the main psychological database, thus kept on record for future evaluations of the person in question.

"Lacking an appointment, Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe arrived at my quarters earlier this evening, clearly in distress. After some time, she confided in me that she felt she was responsible for the murder of an individual she could not recognise as anything other than 'a child'. Despite this obvious gap in what she believes to be her memory, she nonetheless felt that she had killed the aforementioned child and seemed unable to cope with the reality of it. However, on further discussion, it seems clear to me that the images she was perceiving mentally are, in fact, not originating within her own psyche, but perhaps the result of external interference - possibly the result of her empathic or telepathic capabilities."

The Bajoran sighed and rubbed a hand briefly across his chin, considering what next to report.

"In light of this possibility, there are several points I feel the need to address. Firstly, she seemed to consider my original prognosis, mentioning an event that occured under the supervision of Lieutenant Ethan Suder, her commanding officer at the time of said occurance. Medical records and a further analysis by Commander Karyn Dallas indicate that Eshe was influenced by an empathic echo, falling into unconsciousness, though not physically injured. Further search of her file indicate that the aforementioned Lieutenant Suder was also present during another incident in which a similar issue occured, this time resulting in a coma that lasted 9 months and in her once being declared dead by the Trill medical officers treating her at the time. I can only conclude, therefore, that it is possible that Mr Suder has had some effect on Lieutenant Eshe's psyche, the totality of which may yet not have been realised.

However, I also cannot rule out the possibility that the Lieutenant may have been responsible for the actions that appear to be haunting her through images which would, therefore, be memories that are now having a marked effect on her present psychological state. If this is not true, it also is possible that the images are a thus-far undocumented result of her exposure to the Dithparu during the incident with them aboard the USS Galaxy. Regardless of the cause, however, I am absolutely convinced that if she is not responsible for the murder of the child to whom she referred, the images she is perceiving have been transmitted to her telepathically, though she is unable to distinguish them from true memories.

Given the number of variables, all of which fail to lead to a single definitive conclusion, I am therefore recommending further observation of the client, as well as a full medical and psychological evaluation by the Chief Medical Officer and Chief Counselling Officer respectively. I feel further investigation into these possibilities is also necessary, and I will continue to pursue these avenues of thought in consultation both with Lieutenant Eshe and with the CMO and CCO. It may also be necessary to determine whether these images are having any effect on the performance of her duties, so it may become necessary to involve the Chief Engineering Officer, dependent on her continued psychological state.

End log, save and copy to both Commander Karyn Dallas and Lieutenant Kimberly Burton."

He was finished for now, and hit the power button on the console as soon as the computer bleeped, indicating that it had done what he'd asked. Although he felt tired and needed the sleep, for some reason the whole thing continued to concern him. It was always worrying to him when he couldn't understand what exactly was going on in the mind of a client - usually their problems were simple things like anxiety over the direction of their careers, or bereavement/marriage counselling, or even the occasional phobia or two. This was way out of his area of experience, but he didn't really have a choice but to follow it up. He would do no less for anyone else that came in with a problem.

The reality of it, however, was something that kept him awake well into the early hours of the morning, sat in his chair, thinking.

OOC: The McManus Family prayer quoted from the movie "Boondock Saints" for reference.

"The Big Game"

by Flight Officer Jacob Striker
Renegade 11 of Renegade Squadron, Rogue Group

&

Captain Leo Striker
Commanding Officer, USS Eagle-B

=================================

Location: Jacob's quarters, USS Miranda

Jacob was pacing around his quarters in the version of his uniform that would allow him to quickly change into his flight suit within a matter of seconds when the need arose when there came a chirp from his desk at which point Jacob quickly ran over to it and activated it at which point the screen showed him the face of his older brother Leo.

"Jake, I got your call. Sorry I didn't reply sooner bro." Leo said as the elder Striker sibling was apparentally just sitting down himself. "Is it as bad as Faith says?"

"Worse, it's like Eyttyrmin Batiiv sector all over again." Jacob said at which point his brother winced at the memory of that battle from the war. "I still can't believe that you almost bought the farm then, I really do owe Hammond a thing or six for helping keep you alive during that fight."

"Yeah no kidding, what about things on your end?" Jacob asked as he sat down finally, the troubled expression staying on his face.

"Annoying, we're still trying to get the SFMC to send us a squad of marines and plus we're still getting our diplomatic section squared away but we actually got some of your former pilots from the Beowulf making up the Eagle's fighter wing."

"Really? Who'd want to leave the ever loving graces of Colonel Patricia Cain?" Jacob asked in a slightly sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes. It was a common fact that Striker and Cain had been able to be buddy/buddy during their time prior to the trial of Jacob which lead him to being posted on the Miranda. She respected him for keeping a tight reign on his people in combat and forming an almost "Commando Squad" out of his Wolf Pack Squadron but the respect ended there for some odd reason.

"Well it was Commander Enaris Hagan but now it's Lieutenant Colonel Jack Hunter." Leo said with a smirk on his face as he watched Jake's reaction.

"NIGHTMARE?! They gave Nightmare command of a squadron that was bigger than his Shadow Cats?!" Jacob said in a tone that all but quietly whispered disbelief. Hunter, while a genius at recon work which he did well during the Dominion War, was something of an oddball-even for a soldier of his age.

"Yep, apparentally Jack is currently the acting CO of the squadron until such time as something more permenant can be found. His XO is Kozue Karou or as you know her..." Leo started to say with a smirk on his face.

"Starbuck..GREAT!" Jacob said while covering his face with both of his hands. Kozue Karou was like Jacob and Jack, a brillant if unorthodox genius in her chosen field which was not only being one of the best damn marine trained pilots to come up through the ranks since before the SFFC's creation but also as one of the biggest troublemakers in the history of the fleet. Leo and Jake's own cousin Kris was the one who gave her the nickname/callsign of "Starbuck" during his time as an instructor at the SFMC "Top Gun" school prior to the start of the war with the Dominion. "So, what's the Eagle's status overall?"

"Eh, if push comes to shove and we're needed, I've got enough of a crew on board to get us into the fight and if push comes to shove, I can always hijack some of Jonah's crew to help me." Leo said with a smile but something seemed off about it.

"Leo, tell me the truth bro. What's up with you?" Jacob asked with a raised eyebrow

"Alright, look I'm chomping at the bit here because my kid brother is about to be in the middle of one of the biggest firefights since the war ended and I'm stuck here getting my frelling ship staffed but I can't help my own!"

Jacob understood how Leo felt, ever since the two were kids Leo was the one who watched out for him and a part of Leo always would look out for him. "Leo, I want you to listen to me and listen well because I'm only going to say this once alright?"

"Alright" Leo said with a confused look on his face

"Here soon I'm going to jump into my fighter and then I'm going to help make those fraking Hydrans and whatever the frak that they bring with them turn tale all the way back to their home galaxy and the Romulans will then say this was a fuckin bomb droppin Romulas and for a few seconds, this place was armageddon.." Jacob said with a firece smile crossing his face "There was a FIREFIGHT!!!"

At this Leo smiled an actual smile, "Thanks bro. Okay, but you blast the baddies carefully okay?" he said and then he grew serious again. "Just remember the family's prayer when you're out there okay? You know that one that dad hammered into us and Kris?" Leo said.

Jacob simply nodded, "I will Leo. I've got to go and check up on a few things bro. I'll catch you on the flip side alright?"

"Alright Jake, the only thing I ask is that you come back alive. Your son will need his father after all of this goes down." Leo said somberly and then the link was terminated.

Jacob took a deep breath and then stood up from his chair and then went over to where his flight jacket was from where he tossed it and as he shrugged into it in front of a mirror, Jacob squared back his shoulders and looked at dead on at his reflection.

"And Shepherds we shall be, for Thee my lord for Thee." "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand," "that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command." "So we shall flow a river forth to Thee," "and teeming with souls shall it ever be." "In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti."

After saying this, Jacob left his quarters and headed for the hanger bay of the Miranda..it was time to make the doughnuts.

"NAVIGATION DEPARTMENT UPDATE"

Lieutenant Raven Darkstar, Chief Flight Controller USS GALAXY

"Chief Flight Controllers Log, Supplemental. The drums of war are beating. An unseen enemy thunders towards us, sending those who stand in thier way to the afterlife. We stand ready. All shuttle pilots are on standby, fully armed and can be in the air within 2 minutes of the order. Walker and Dobryn are positioned on the battle bridge and main bridge. I have ordered them to work four hour shifts and then rest for two while thier backups man the helm. The anticipation before the dawn of battle can fray nerves. When the war cry is heard, they will need to be of clear mind. The ship may also have to seperate and as such, all pilots are running through at least one simulation while we wait. Failure of the seperation process will find them temporarily relieved of duty." Darkstar dictated, from where he sat in the isolation of the Navigation Dome. The holographic emitters made it appear that he was sitting atop the saucer section. His usually neatly braided hair hung free and war paint was streaked across his eyes and face. He stared in the direction of the oncoming Hydrans as if he would somehow be able to sense thier arrival through the sheer intensity of his gaze. "I have sent word to Lieutenant Ramirez aboard the USS MIRANDA and will be unable to accept his meeting at this time. If the Gods favor us int he coming battle, perhaps we shall meet. If they do not and it is our path to fall, then we shall meet when we join our fathers and our fathers father before him. End Log."

OOC NOTE: The charachter of Lt. Darkstar is antisocial and intensely focused. Like most great Chiefs on the eve of war, Darkstar has opted for seclusion with his people. Thats just what he would do. Nothing against any other authors.

"Special Delivery Part I"

USS GALAXY MARINE BARRACKS

Lt Branwen London
Crewman Recruit Allison

"HEL-lo!.....Anybody in here?" Allison's voice echoed off the slate grey bulkheads of what was affectionately referred to as Marine Country.

"Someone here order a couple of Phase-Plasma mortars with optional laser zoom sights?........Anybody......guys?"

Receiving no reply Alli let out a little 'hrumph' of frustration and leaned back against the zero-G cargo sled she had pulled down here.

Alone with her weapons crates, Alli shifted her weight awkwardly and peered into the gloom that filled the huge Marine Barracks. She was struck by the stark utilitarian nature of the compartment and the numerous references to death and destruction that decorated the walls.

"Seek out new life and new civilizations....and Kill them!" a recruiting poster proclaimed from a nearby bulkhead.

"Opening up cans of Whup-ass since 1776" read another.

~~~Cute.~~~ Alli rolled her glitter speckled eyes, ~~~I'm in GI Joes's Locker room.~~~ She wrinkled her cute little nose at the faint odor of sweaty socks.

Coming out of the gym after going through her evening routine of exercises Branwen became aware of some noises. Somebody actually making a lot of noise, and some muttering. Most marines moved very stealthily. So she could safely say it was not one of hers. Bran moved closer and noticed a young woman.

"Can I help you?"

Alli jumped slightly as the uniformed woman steped into view from behind a locker. "Like....Hello....almost made me swallow my gum." she breathed, "You a Marine lady?"

London could barely keep from smiling. "Yes I am, I am Branwen London, Marine XO." She introduced herself.

"Well Groovy." Alli pulled a pen out from behind her ear, "Maybe you can help me with some of the paperwork here......if you guys are gonna be ordering so much stuff from Armory, yall really gotta start filling out your I-99 forms."

"My what... about what?" Now the Marine was totally confused.

"Hello....I-99's." Alli popped her gum loudly, "Duh.....They are the standard Armory requsition form.....gotta fill them out."

Receiving no reply, Allison shrugged and started in: "Okay..." she consulted a PADD, "Says here somebody ordered a couple of Plasma Mortars for 'Crowd control' down on the surface." Alli frowned "What the heck kinda crowds are y'all controling with artillery?"

Branwen came closer and looked at the PADD. "Must have been the boss, and he's not here right now." She hated paperwork. "I guess it's in order, and you can leave it here and he can sign for it later." She tried hopefully.

Allison gave the older woman a stupid look. "Hel-lo...."she rolled her eyes,"Not in order....thats why I'm here to get it filled out.....no paperwork......no boom-booms."

Bran shrugged, feeling a bit trapped.

"Zarky," Alli flipped to page one of the rather intimidating looking I- 99 form. The latest asnd greatest creation to come out of Starfleets Bureau of pointless paperwork. (Rumors were its creator received a Starfleet decoration fo gallantry in the field of mildless bureacracy)

"Okay......first the little customer service spiel" Allison read from the form, "The Armory Department thanks you, our valued customer, for your recent selection of the Hawksley Munitions Mk III Phased Plasma Mortar as your weapon of choice in dealing out death and dismemberment."

Alli patted the crate for emphasis, "We here at Armory Department feel it is our duty to provide you....the end customer....with the finest in firearms and fiream accesories, and to meet and exceed your heavy firepower expectations. We beleive in cheerful service with a smile...."

Alli paused for a moment to deliver a cheesy pink-glitter smile, her piece of gum visible between her teeth.

"....service with a smile. Quality customer support, and prompt attentive service...yadda yadda yadda." Allison skipped through the rest twirling her hand in a little 'hurry up motion'

"Anyhow lets get in with the form........Name and title of customer?"

"All right, Allright, that would be lieutenant Baile." Branwen grumbled,finding this a waste of time.

"Ok.....could you please tell me how you heard about the Mk III Phased Plasma Mortar?"

"I didn't. I didn't order it." The young marine rolled her eyes.

"I'll put down 'reccomended by a friend'......Could you lists 3 factors that influenced your decision to request a Mk III Phased Plasma Mortar?

"Look, Miss, I just told you that I am not the one who ordered this, so I haven't the foggiest. I would probably say because it looks bloody big enough to suit delicate male egos."

"Right then male egos.......could you descrive how you intend to use the Mortar in the role of Planatary Crowd Control?"

Branwen stared at her, was this woman for real? "Crowd control? Probably scare them to death?" She said sweetly.

"Ok......Im going to list of some of our other fine products, could you please say yes or no in regards to if you expect to be using said product sometime in the next six months........Type II hand Phaser"

"No."

"Phaser Rifle"

"Noooooooooooooooo."

"Stun grenades"

"NO!!!!"

"Gas grenades........are those like stink bombs?" Alli looked up inqusitively.

"N...." Branwen blinked it was a different question. "They just put you to sleep, you won't happen to have one with you, would you?"

"Ok whatever......Mk VII Ground Attack Vehicle?

"For crying.... No."

"Tactical Thermonuclear device.....I think we'll be having a special on those next week."

"No!!! And could lead please stop this!!!! I didn't ordered this stuff, and I don't have time for this nonsense."

"Almost done....promise," Alli ticked off each responce in turn, "Now in order to help us understand our customers better could you please list all the interests or activities you all enjoy participating in on a regular basis.........Sabotage?"

"Please. You are a Starfleet officer, not a sales representative. You don't have to do this." But in return all Branwen got was a patient smile. "I love it." She said.

"Propaganda/Disinformation"

"My biggest hobby."

" Destabilizing/Overthrow "

"We try to overthrow at least one government a month."

"Interstellar Espionage"

"Certainly."

"Black Market/Smuggling"

"That's a good tip. Must try that next week."

" Interrogation/Torture"

"Yes, and we have an opening for test persons."

" Crushing Rebellions"

"Bring on the big guns!"

" Military Reconnaissance"

"Boring."

" Border Disputes"

"Slightly less boring."

" Mutually Assured Destruction"

"Lovely."

" Golf ?"

"Eh?" Branwen looked up. "Stop right now, please. I'm sure you are a very nice person, but has anybody ever told you that you come across as slightly insane?"

"Slightly?" Alli popped her gum thoughtfully, "No....nobody has ever said 'slightly' before."

"Surprise, surprise." Branwen whispered under her breath.

"In any case we're done here " she continued, closing up the survey folder, "Check out is for 3 days time....late fees start after midnight, warantee card is on the sid eof the box." Alli tapped the crate to indicate the packing slip. "Other than that....I guess just enjoy your plasma mortars down on the planet......dont get eaten or anything."

"Right. How about next time we meet you come into my office for a little professional chat." She would love to dissect this strange young woman.

Alli puased to check a little pink electronic planner decoratd with unicorn stickers. "Yah.....ok I got some time to kill. I need to be done by 1800 however, I got a date later with my boss."

"A date, you mean an appointment right?" Branwen watched her. "But it would work for me."

"Date....dinner....same thing." Alli shrugged

"By the way lady," Allison was peering closely at Bran as she was talking, "Dont take this like personal and all, but you have got like one wicked rash on the back of your neck there."

"Call me Branwen. And what do you mean, a rash. I haven't seen anything myself."

"Totally." Alli bobbed her head, smacking her gum. "Little red streaks and bumps. What you need lady is a hypoallergenic skin cream."

"Ah." Branwen realised what she must be referring to and blushed a little. "That's fine, thank you for pointing it out, but I don't need anything."

Reachng back into a little pouch she carried on her belt, The little blond produced a tiny pink tube of make up. "Never leave home with out a little moisterizer." she grinned.

"Make It Quick"

Major Corran "Casanova" Rex, CAG, USS Galaxy
Ensign Eve, Intel, USS Galaxy

Brief, unauthorized use of the other Vanguard pilots

----------------------------

Eve strolled down the corridors of the Galaxy, yet another PADD in hand though without the previous trip's accompanying satchel of whiz gadgets for two reasons. First, she wanted to be sure that she's be able to install them on the fighters, and second, they were a bit to big for her to simply carry about over her shoulder.

Once again she entered 'foreign' territory, but unlike the last time she had committed to memory the layout of the flight deck and queried the computer on the location of one Major Corran Rex, the Galaxy's CAG. Given the recent happenings with the marines and Colonel Arvellion, Eve had decided to forgo meeting with Lieutenant DiMillo and go straight to the top.

After all, despite her Intelligence training, it wasn't quite in Eve's nature to sneak around so much: in this case she had calculated a much higher probability of success if she simply corresponded with the CAG himself.

---------------------------------- CAG's Office Fighter Country, USS Galaxy ------------------------------------------

Corran was finishing up a brief meeting with some of his senior pilots - Kol, Rockstar, Pad, Fuzzball, Orphan, Kiddo and Hawkeye. He briefly noted that his mind was already in "pilot mode" - "....so that's the current situation." he finished, explaining the tactical breif that 'Commander Tarin had passed on from the Captain. "Skipper wants us all in the black, so we're setting out immediately. We'll divide by flights. "

Lansky was the only one with a question as the rest nodded soberly. "We have the assignments for Saber Squadron, sir?"

"We do." Corran nodded. "Congratulations, Orphan, you're the XO and Saber Five. Pilot Furai, you'll be serving as Three Flight Lead for the Sabers. You'll find the assignments for the other pilots posted. Now everyone get to your ships and get in the black. Dismissed."

The gathered pilots broke up, those not in flight suits already heading for the locker room, and those who were heading for the flight deck. Casanova was picking up his helmet as someone else approached his open door. "Can I help you.. Ensign?"

"Perhaps, sir," Eve began, presenting him the PADD she held. "I have been tasked with securing authorization for the installation of certain devices within the fighters of Vanguard Squadron, these devices being sensory gathering in nature and calibrated towards specifics that standard fighter scale tactical sensory grids are not attuned towards. I am aware that the initial intent behind the proposal by LT Bental was for the gathering of intelligence about the Romulans, and thus the proposal was rejected by Colonel Arvellion.

" However, I am also aware that such methods of gathering would be useful when we confront the Hydran forces: Fighters, though smaller and containing less powerful equipment, are capable of closing to a much more intimate range, thereby offsetting the limitations imposed by the lack of size and power. Regardless of the outcome of the initial engagement, such information would be useful and possibly crucial towards the resolution of further conflicts in a light positive towards our standards and intentions."

"I'm not opposed." the Major quickly said. "But I don't know that you're going to have a lot of time to pull it off, Ensign. I've got orders to get my people in the air as soon as possible. How long will these modifications of yours take?"

"Installation alone would take at most 10 minutes for a single craft. I have already provided specification and mapped the ideal locations for optimum performance with the minimum possible on installation times and placements." Eve indicated the PADD she had handed the major.

"However, calibration and placement of the devices into proper operation would take considerably longer. Performing such functions in flight is possible with the presence of a properly certified operator." THAT part she hadn't quite figured out. Fighters were usually single seat affairs, and she did not think that DiMillo possessed those certifications, Intelligence liaison or not.

"You can do your configurations over the Squadron's tactical network?" he asked briskly as they started walking towards the flight deck.

"Theoretically."

"Then lets test that theory, Ensign. Get your tech heads down to the flight deck and get the gear installed. You'll be with me in Vanguard One."

"Acknowledged, Major."

"And Ensign?"

"Sir"

"Get yourself a flight suit, too."

"The Universe Waits For No One"

Elaithin Jii
K Jordan Elaithin
Kerec

---

If there was anything that made Jii, Jordan, and Kerec stand out in this underground world below the capitol of the Romulan Empire, it was this: They were, all of them, too clean.

That was becoming less and less of an issue, however, as more people filtered down into the safety of the caverns, escaping the riots above.

"How far until we make some headway?" Jordan questioned, her intelligence-training kicking in full strength as she surveyed the area with nervous paranoia. "All these people are making me nervous. There's too much going on, we need to get into a more controlled environment, we don't know who's watching and we've been down here for too long to be part of the refugees." She glanced at her husband, then at the Romulan. "And it's not going to be long until the violence comes down here."

"No, it won't." Jii replied quietly. "But we're just passing through down here. It's an easier trip that going above." There was a faintly dissatisfied quality to his voice. He understood the logic of their choice of route, but an underlying desire to be above, helping to resolve the situation - protecting and saving lives - couldn't help but surface.

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean I like it any more." She shook her head as she slipped carefully through the crowds, fingers tight on the fabric of her husband's shirt. "Kerek," she said, more pointedly, "do you know where we are going?"

"Yes." he replied simply, still showing the infinite patience of a Vulcan. "It's not much farther. There's a service conduit that comes up in the alleyway behind one of the Tal Shi'ar staff housing buildings. They've left it open as an escape route."

"It'll be monitored." Jii noted before Jordan could point it out more acerbically.

"Undoubtedly." he replied. "However, as a senator's aide, I have the authorization to use such routes to gain access to the government sector."

"Will we?" Jordan murmured, raising her eyebrows toward Jii. Her expression pointed out the obvious: the holographic imaging technology was good, very good, but it didn't stand a chance against scanners looking for it. The Romulans were capable enough to do just that. There might be chaos on the planet, but that didn't mean old grudges would be forgiven or paranoia forgotten.

"Guess we'll have to find out." Jii muttered back.

Both were aware, of course, that the Romulan man's superior hearing would allow them to be heard. Of course, neither had really intended otherwise. Kerec stopped then, turning to face them.

"Yes, there is a good chance your disguises are going to be detected. Both of you are aware of that. However, your man Keller has been able to maintain the fiction that he is a member in good standing of the Tal Shiar, and a loyal son of ch'Rihan. If you want him, this is where we will have to go. This way bypassed much of the government sector's security scanners. The only hope we have now is to take advantage of the chaos outside, and hope we will be able to slip inside."

Jordan whipped around, her fury literally flashing around her. She wasn't sure what got her more: his smugness, the not so subtle jab at their abilities versus Keller's, the fact that she was entirely at his direction.

She might have started over, but she was still Jordan: the type-a control freak.

"You understand espionage as well as most," she said, professionalism dropping; what did it really matter at this moment? ch'Rihan was coming down around them, the Romulan empire was about to be wiped out. What did it really matter? "Keller is a deep immersion officer with long term physical alterations done on the cellular level. He has been here for three years after being installed with the help of some of our informants here."

"Mrs. Elaithin," Kerec said, tacking her arm firmly, though keeping his voice calm and level. "Perhaps you need to be reminded that you are not who you once were. The universe and the politics have passed you by and you no longer have the resources you once did. Currently, the only hope you have is standing here and you have to trust it if you want to have any role in bringing this man in."

"We should not have come to you."

"If you had not, you would have no point at which to begin your search. You are perfectly welcome to return to my home."

"Jordan.." Jii whispered, placing a hand on her upper arm. "Kerec, we understand all of that. But don't give us ultimatums. I came to you because you have even more of a reason for avoiding a way between the Federation and the Empire than we do. Your people cannot afford to loose ours as an ally. If Keller makes his escape, that will happen. And any hope your people have of turning aside this invasion's going to be lost."

"I am well aware of that, Jii." he said quietly, and for the first time, Kerec's mask cracked, and both Elaithins were able to see the quiet desperation in his features.

"I should have stayed on Bajor," Jordan whispered, almost inaudibly as she turned back on their way. "It was too early." She started walking again, silently, moving through the increasing crowds of people.

"Maybe it was." Jii conceded as they began following Kerec once more, an unspoken detent having been reached. "But the universe wasn't about to wait for us."

"I am fucking tired of paying attention to the whims of the universe," Jordan hissed, almost teary-eyed, "it's all I hear in my head at any given moment, and it wasn't even my fucking choice." She stopped short just as they came to the opening of the service conduit and she looked up toward the hatch opening.

Jii gave her a wry grin then, the one that made his eyes look old, but there was a genuine smile to them. "Does it ever? Darlin, this is what we DO. I - "

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Kerec's announcement. "We're here."

He was standing at the bottom of the ladder well, looking back expectantly at the both of them

Jii faced his wife. "You're the expert. Your call. We on?"

"At this point, I don't think we have a choice."

Logs

Captain Christopher Summers, USS Miranda
Major Corran Rex, CAG, USS Galaxy
Elaithin Jii

-----------------------

"Captain's Log, stardate 50609.09. Captain Christopher Summers, Recording. We'll be heading into a briefing soon with all the Starfleet Captains of the Task Force, for better coordination amongst our own forces, and tactical planning, should the Hydran Armada penetrate as far as Romulus.

It seems almost inevitable that they will. Admiral Donatra will be beaming up shortly, and Lieutenant sh'Akledor will also be attending the briefing. We have confirmation now of the destruction of the Third, Fourth, and Seventh Galaes, and the likely destruction or conquoring of three principal worlds of the Empire. The people down on Romulus are rioting in response - the Romulan military no longer has enough units on-planet to maintain order without help.

Darren and I have dispatched a combined team made of personell from the Miranda's Hazard Team and the Galaxy's Marine ARC unit to go "behind the lines". They'll shadow our captured Hydran fighter, piloted by Lieutenants Everett and Khatrowen. Hopefully they'll be able to bring back better information than we currently have available. End log."

-------------------

"Personal Log, Stardate 50609.09. Christopher Summers, recording. As time goes on here in Romulan space, I am more and more convinced that my wife - my ex-wife - was right. I should have retired. I should be sitting behind a desk at a Starbase somewhere.

I'm too old for this shit.

But then I see someone like Aello - hell, be honest, Chris. I see HER, and it makes me feel young again, the way Allison should have.

Am I here just for her? I don't know. It's a big part, I think.

But more than that, it's the job. I just can't let go of that chair. And the more I realize I can't.. the more I think that maybe I should. End log."

---------------------

"CAG's Log, Stardate 50609.09. Corran Rex, Recording. The order's been given on a full deployment. I've assigned Flight Officer Lansky as XO to Saber Squadron, and Angel as that squads three flight lead. Hopefully they'll balance Kol out.

We temporarily delayed launch while Saul's tech geeks add some "eye in the sky" equipment to our ships. We're not going to have time to configure everything, however - this "Ensign Eve" of his is going to have to do that in the black, networked in from my fighter. I've got my reservations, but I know we need all the intel we're going to get, and from a fighter, that's going to be a unique perspective.

Hope it helps. End log."

-----------------------

"Personal Log, Stardate 50609.09. Elaithin Jii, recording. It's not like I'm required to do these anymore, but.. almost twenty years of habit.. hell. Might as well. And if something happens to us, maybe these logs will get back to Earth.

I haven't seen my kids in six months. I didn't want to be here, doing this. I wanted to take Jordan back to them. I promised them I'd bring her back, and I did. Or the Prophets did, however you want to say it.

I'm glad to have her back - glad beyond anything I can say. And I'd be lying if I said that part of me isn't glad we're here, trying to help.. trying to make a difference.

Murdock told me once I'd never be able to change that. He saw it in me as a Lieutenant, and he and Price took it upon themselves to guide me into what I've become.

I might not wear the uniform anymore, but I'm still Starfleet. I always will be. That's why Jordan and I are here, instead of with our kids on Earth. We've got to try to make it a better, safer place for them, and right now, that means bringing Keller in, and keeping the Empire and the Federation from barrelling headlong into war.

If there's an Empire left a few days from now.

Time to go. We'll be through the Underground soon, and then...

Well. We'll see. End log."

"Trade Pact"

by Savant S3 (Logistics) Officer USS Galaxy, 12th Fleet, Barzan Sector

and

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

Savant walked down the dimply lit corridors of Deck 8, the expanses of her mind awhirl with tasks. She was making her way to the quartermaster - general's office out of some preconception that she ought to be there more than any sort of need. The android had to be *somewhere*, after all - where better than her duty post? Concerns with quarters would come later, if at all. Savant didn't have to worry about physical comfort, but perhaps politeness required a space where maintenance could be done on the android privately. It wouldn't do to have a half-disassembled body strewn about the quartermaster-general's office.

A figure was walking down the hall, two bends away. Savant assumed that the person would be coming her way, since that was the direction to the lifts leading into the saucer section. Given the fact that the lights were dimmed for the ship's Delta cycle (and sleep for many of the crew) it was probably someone headed for a bed upstairs. The communication transponder identified the walker as Lieutenant Bental. Savant smiled despite herself.

Savant straightened her double-breasted uniform jacket just before he turned the corner, her expression assuming the pleasant, confident look for which she was so well known in other places. "Good evening," She commented when he approached close enough that it would be polite to say so.

"Evening. You," The man replied, "must be Savant."

Of course, this meeting was no incident at all.

Being connected and having many ties and contacts throughout the ship and beyond was part of what made Saul Bental an effective intelligence officer, as well as a successful merchant. It was small wonder that he was among the first crewmembers on board to hear about Savant's arrival.

He first went to speak with the Galaxy's resident quartermaster chief, Jacian Maro. The Bolian didn't seem to handle well the fact that Starfleet just dumped a full Lieutenant on top of him, and an A.I. at that. It took three glasses of Biraschora root juice for Saul to realize that the whining blue-skinned NCO was no longer an asset.

And it was much harder to manipulate an A.I. An A.I. wouldn't need any favors or flattery, wouldn't feel giddy if you shared a secret with it, and couldn't be invited to a friendly drink.

"Welcome to the Galaxy." Saul forced a smile. "I'm glad I bumped into you. I was quite curious about you."

Savant's smile was broad. "Curious, about me? I'm flattered. You must be Mr. Bental." She extended a hand to him, the smile still on her face. "I'm pleased to meet someone with such a distinguished record. What keeps you up at this time of night?" She had her suspicions about why he was up, of course. It was better to keep up pretenses though, let him assume that she didn't have those assumptions and carefully catalogued records.

"I wouldn't call it 'distinguished'... and I'm afraid my errands don't end with Beta shift. Especially with the current situation. With an inbound Hydran fleet, and allies who prefer to die than to share their secrets... my fellow intelligence officers really need to flex their muscles. What do you make of the current situation?"

Savant was amused. Saul had a way with words, he enjoyed them it seemed. She did as well - she was made of them, after all - and his unconscious delight in the spoken word tickled her fancy. "Well, I haven't been an actual intelligence officer for some time now. But I do dabble. You could say that I consider information to be the most important commodity." Her grin broadened into something sly for a moment.

"I think that we should only co-ordinate with our allies as much as is required. We can't expect them to be forthcoming with information, so our efforts should be on intel of our own. Maybe move a fleet tender / fabricator ship into the sector and start building a fleet intelligence probes. We could get a good view of what's coming our way if we were to automate the process more." Savant spoke easily, her tone confident and casual. "Seventh fleet might be able to spare the USS Cochrane if we asked nicely."

Saul paid only little attention to her proposition, though, as a little detail caught his ear. Little, but crucial.

"The problem is, the Romulans authorize every single vessel to come into their territory. Plus, I don't know if the ship can reach us before the Hydran fleet does. I was going to suggest to Captain M'Kantu that we send a manned mission toward the advancing Hydran fleet, but probes are also good. You say you were in intelligence?"

His professional interest had been piqued by Savant's former profession, which made the android smile. More appropriately, Savant thought that smiling was appropriate at the juncture. "I served with Intelligence for about a decade before my activation on Coronado. Mostly as field agent's aides." She put her hands on her hips in a classically defiant pose, "I was made for information gathering."

Was that arrogant? Savant turned the question over to some self-checking subroutines; she didn't want to appear arrogant. There was nothing wrong with confidence, but that might be crossing the line. "I still keep up with the protocols. Never know when they'll come in handy."

"You never know." Saul agreed. "Tell me, Savant - don't you feel wasted as logistics coordinator?"

"Wasted?" She raised an eyebrow and her expression turned quizzical, with a touch of consternation - only 12% consternation, just a little. "Why, no, of course not. I was designed to serve and co-ordinate, and there's little out there as well suited to those goals as logistics." Savant placed a hand against her sternum, "I do what I'm asked, and help where I'm needed most. Twelfth Fleet needed someone to co-ordinate the flow of supplies, and I deliver."

"No offense meant, of course. I meddle with logistics as well, so to speak." Saul replied

She smiled again, the sort of smile which could make Saul doubt whether Savant had been telling the truth. "Of course, I do enjoy *other* fields of work, too."

"Such as?"

Savant picked up a thoughtful pose as she replied, "I do find myself quite handy with intelligence and the sciences - they're nice logical fields that require a lot of collation and synthesis, and I'm good with that. I worked a stretch with the Marines as well, I found it very restful." She paused, as if coming to a realization. "Now that you mention it, I can't really think of anything I've been disappointed by."

"Then you must be in the right place.", Saul smiled.

She grinned back and turned the question around, "What about yourself? Your record shows you to be very good with your job."

Saul shrugged off the compliment. "Thank you. I enjoy intelligence work as well. It requires, well, intelligence. And it involves several things I'm good at. Plus, not growing up in the cotton-coated core worlds of the Federation gives an edge when compared to most of the academy's intel graduates."

Meeting someone in person always gave a wealth of information, more than any record could indicate. Savant added "general disdain for inner worlds" and "independent streak" to her growing data thread on Saul as she replied. "Experience with the rougher aspects of the galaxy helps, certainly. You can't get good data by just sitting in a lab, you have to go out and get it. I've always liked that part of the job. *Acquisitions.*"

"An interesting choice of words."

She was amused by his reply, commenting, "I'm extrapolating, sorry. It's a lot more interesting to do field work than sit in an office, is all I'm saying."

"I have a department member who was conditioned to act in a 'robotic' manner. Long story, one which I'll spare you out of respect to that officer's privacy. But this officer would never say they 'like' anything. You present yourself in a much more 'Human' way."

Savant raised a hand and made a flippant, scolding sort of a "tch" noise. "I'm not human, or even vaguely humanoid. The word 'like' is just so much more compact than 'I find this activity to be acceptable,'" Her voice stiffened with the phrase as if imitating a computer response. She didn't want to pry into the life of the officer he had mentioned, but was certain it would come up sooner or later. Savant was nothing if not patient. She raised a finger as if making a point, "Efficiency is all, and emotional responses are far more efficient at conveying subtleties. So long as you use them properly, of course."

Saul snickered. "I'll mention that to my officer the next time they start giving me a full 'system report' when I ask how are they doing. I, by the way, find that activity to be 'acceptable' as well."

And now, finally, he lead the conversation to the point he wanted to express. The emphasis on the word 'acquisitions' didn't escape his ears, so Saul suspected Savant could be aiming to the same destination as well.

"I'm actually known among the crew as someone to talk to when an acquisition has to be made and not necessarily through the regular pipelines. It's not part of the official job description, but hey, a good crewmate lends a hand when needed."

She nodded as if it were old news. Given his background she was unsurprised that he would be into more surreptitious logistical concerns. Savant's tone turned somewhat more confidential. "Ah, how philanthropic. It's useful to trade in favours." She was of a similar mind to him. Legality didn't necessarily have anything to do with it. Just like her view on emotion, efficiency was all. Sometimes the less-publicly-acceptable choice was the most prudent. Her tone was sly. "I myself can understand the need for things being obtained quietly. I'd be lying if I said I didn't engage in it from time to time. After all, it *is* my job to get what you need where you need it. Regardless of what it is."

An A.I. 'living on the border of the law'? Saul noted to himself that he must be extra careful from now on when communicating with his contacts. If Savant gets the wrong information, she could take over his entire operation. Savant, on the other hand, was dreadfully amused. The bloom of neurochemicals that local sensor netwokrs were reading from Saul explained volumes about his emotional state. He was worried! She didn't grin or show her emotion, but undoubtedly the registers which her own mind was made of rippled in delight. "Excellent.", He said. "My point of view exactly. I am sure that we can reach the same understanding I had with the other logistics factors on board. It would be beneficial for both sides."

She grinned at his words, "What a Vulcan statement, Mr Bental. I'll be happy to accommodate you with whatever it is that you need. My heart," She placed a hand on her sternum as if she had a heart at all, "lies with Galaxy.If there's anything - *anything* - you need to help her, just give the word." "Same goes to you. I'm glad we see eye to eye.", Saul said. In the depths of his devious mind, opportunities began to present themselves. If Savant will be as cooperative as she says, the rim was the limit.

The android smiled that cheshire-cat smile and winked as she made to move past him - she hoped to confuse him a little more, if only because she enjoyed the chaotic reactions, "Don't let me keep you, Lieutenant." And she sauntered off towards her post, feeling of much higher spirits.

"The Guru and the Atheist"

Lt. Saul Bental Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Ensign Veronica Nila Science Officer, USS Galaxy

Ensign Veronica Nila left her quarters a bit wearier this time. She had been on the Galaxy just under a week and the euphoria of serving on a Galaxy class starship was wearing off. She was just getting settled in her new assignment and it was now setting in that her first assignment is going to be in the front lines of a war.

Very little information was coming out about the Hydrans only that they were coming this way and this battle group was here to defend Romulus. It was a bit overwhelming for her just being near the Romulan Star Empire home world, let alone to try and defend it where the masters of this Empire could not.

She was off duty and her shift ended and she felt the need to center her self. It was common for her to meditate on a daily basis but the past couple of weeks have been hectic. She wore a pink silk dress that was reminiscent of old Hindu dresses of the past. She wore a pink silk sash. She was comfortable and needed a bit of rest on her off time to organize her mind. Her hair was down as it accentuated her dark skin and piercing hazel blue eyes.

She walked towards some large bay doors that opened to reveal a grassy area. There were several gardens about adorned with flowers of many types. She stepped onto a stone surface. She noticed a patch of rose bushes, her favorite flower. She strolled to the rose bushes and lowered her head to smell them. She took a whiff of pleasant aroma hinted with the pollen smell of the flower.

She sat down on the grass a few feet from the rose bush and crossed her legs in what she referred to as the lotus position. She closed her eyes and relaxed her hands upon her legs as she tried to imagine the intricateness of the universe.

Soon, however, her solace was interrupted by a high-pitched voice. The voice belonged to a woman who was probably the loudest whisperer she ever heard.

"Look how beautiful she is!"

Then another person spoke. It was a man, and while he did not try to whisper his voice seemed much more quiet than the woman's. "Lali, concentrate. We don't have much time and if you don't fully understand these, I won't put you on analysis rotation."

Saul's threat cooled Lali Indrakshi's enthusiasm only a little. "But look at those traditional cloths. You know what she's doing? She's practicing yoga. I believe it's called lotus position, an ancient Hindu practice. You should take up yoga."

"Lali, what this woman does in reality is sitting and resting. That's all. It amazes me that in the 24th century educated people think that by sitting in a certain way they'll be blessed by divine power or what'snot."

Veronica opened her eyes to see what the commotion was about. She saw at a distance among the grass and flower gardens a man and women. The female voice she could make out, she then heard what seemed to be a male voice but it was not as discernible, but she made out a few words. She once again closed her eyes to resume meditating. "Shhhh!" A quite sushing sounded.

"Hey!" A response to the shushing also sounded off.

Veronica's eye lifted with her eyebrow. It appeared to her that she wasn't going to get silence here. Rather then getting upset she looked at the rose bush and stood up. She cut two of the white ones from the stem. She walked over to what she thought was a couple to introduce her self. She smiled at the two and handed the roses over to them both.

"Hi, I' am Ensign Veronica Nila the new science officer..." Veronica had an articulate accent with a hint of proper English. She looked over at the man and focused her attention on him. " … And it is not about divine power, it is about centering ones mind. It helps me to organize my thoughts. I believe that Vulcans call it arie'mnu." Veronica paused for a moment thinking she may have over analyzed it. ~Just great veronica, nice first impression~ "Are you two together?"

"Y-es!", The woman replied in, of all languages, Hindu. She wrapped her arms around the man, beaming cheerfully. "Namaste! I am Cadet Lali Indrakshy, and this sweet sweet man is Lieutenant Saul Bental. Both from intel!"

"Lali, how do you say 'Insubordination' in Hindu?", Saul asked.

The cadet pouted, and removed her hands. She gave him an offended glance, before both burst into a chuckle. Then, Saul stood up.

"I am Saul. Saul Bental." He introduced himself, taking a sniff from the rose. He closed his eyes as the smell penetrated his nose. "Welcome aboard, Ms. Nila. I am glad that our scientists know the difference between tradition and meditation, and believing in nonsense some ancient priest invented in order to boss commoners around."

"Asir'bad, and blessings. It is good to meet you both. Not all tradition is nonsense. I believe that religion and philosophy are both right and wrong, and they have always been. There's always a kernel of truth. The unknown is the reason I became a scientist." She smiled at them both hoping that she makes new friends.

Saul nodded in acknowledgement. Whenever he shoved religious people to the corner, as often happened in heated debates during his academy days, they began talking mysteriously like Veronica just did. 'Both right and wrong', 'Kernel of truth'.

He wanted to say 'Talk facts, lady!', but instead just smiled. He didn't want to alienate Veronica, which seemed like a rather nice person regardless of her beliefs. "But enough of that, some times I catch my self sounding like a guru. I bet that Hindu food would be far better than a philosophy report. I make an excellent curry chicken. You two care to join me?" She asked beginning to think of the spices she would use in the rice. Lali's eyes lit. "Curry chicken..."

"We would love to, yes. If it's not disturbing, of course." Saul said.

"Not at all, in fact I have been wanting some company but haven't found the time until now. It will take about half an hour to prepare, come join me in my quarters then. Deck two section four." Veronica nodded good-bye as she left the arboretum.

Veronica arrived at her quarters to pick up a few loose items off of the floor. Her quarters we modest in size as expected for a junior officer's quarters. For the most part it had a more contemporary decor with splashes of intermittent color the few rooms that she had. For some centerpieces she kept a white lotus plant for display.

Next to her replicator she had a small burner with a rice wok and a steam vat for rice. She preferred to cook from scratch. Though she had to replicate the base ingredients. Veronica was an excellent chef she got it from her mother. Though not in any of her records she does wonderfully.

"Computer replicate one pound of uncooked rice, and one half uncooked raw chicken." The items she ordered materialized on an already prepared cutting board. She prepared the ingredients and began cooking. Her Siamese cat now only a year old brushed against her feet purring. "Oh, darling I'm so sorry I forgot to feed you. Computer replicate kitty meal number 2." A small bowl shimmered into existence. Veronica took it and put it on the ground.

"Round Table" - Part III

Captain Christopher Summers, USS Miranda (Pat)

Captain Darren M'Kantu, USS Galaxy (Robert)

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes, USS Icarus (Juan)

Captain Tara Reynolds, USS Concorde (Pat)

Captain Rianastarra'cessk, USS Arizona (Kate)

Captain Rebecca Weber, USS Texas (Becky)

Captain Margarethe Vogler, USS Exeter (Brian)

Captain Kent Logan, USS London (Rich)

Captain T'Riele, USS Sao Paolo (Dave)

Captain Amelse Brodey, USS Thunderbird (MJ)

Captain J.P. Albrecht, USS Thunderchild (Dallas)

Captain Raymond Tango, USS Akira (Joe)

Captain Robert DeSoto, USS Hood (Canon NPC)

Captain Tenchi Masaki, USS Mukaikubo (NPC)

Captain Kailea Wrendo, USS Olympic (Ian)

Captain Jonathan DarkSky, USS Typhon (Eric)

Commander Na'sav Lorem, USS Valiant (Chris)

with...

Enriov Donatra, Supreme Commander, Rihannsu Homeworld Galae (Pat)

and introducing...

Marine Lieutenant T'shani sh'Akledor, SFMC Special Intelligence Attache (MJ)

AMIE, AI Construct (MJ)

SECURED HOLOCOM NETWORK SESSION: ROUND TABLE "ROOM"

The Vulcan captain of the Sao Paolo was the first to question Intel's Hydran specialist, starting with a curt nod towards the Andorian. "Lieutenant: aside from the strengths and weaknesses of the approaching Hydrans - which I hope is something you will be providing, has Intelligence been able to provide any motive for the Hydran invasion?"

Summers answered first, having spent three hours with Majors Weber and McKeon - not to mention Darren - on the topic that very morning. "We expect this isn't anything sudden, but rather, the Triad pushing forward their agenda. We haven't seen any T'Kith'Kin or Breen military forces yet, but if this is a repeat of Breen and Havras two years ago, they're certainly going about it a lot more efficiently. We believe it may be another probing action, designed to test our readiness – this time, aimed at the Romulan Empire."

"If it is a test," Donatra said under her breath, betraying her own feelings of hopelessness "Then it is one my people are failing."

Na'sav remained silent, contemplating the information being dispensed. He didn't know half of what it seemed everyone else did... but that was okay, as everyone else apparently did know and thus could fill him in. What 'really' struck him was the speed in which the Hydran forces were moving... it was enviable really. He doubted a Starfleet force, even under the best of circumstances, could match their tactical success.

What disturbed him more was the apparent strategic aim of the so called 'triad'. The Romulans were a key aspect of the Alpha Quadrant's strategic balance. The Klingons were even now 'still' rebuilding from their losses during the Dominion War, and the Federation was understandably hesitant to engage in further conflicts, especially those of the pre-emptive kind. That would have left everyone quietly hoping the Romulans would strike if the 'triad' had to be hit... and right now even the most optimistic estimates he could come up with put rebuild time in the years so far... and that was 'so far'.

Out of the loop was definitely the term that applied to Kent. He'd picked up bits and pieces since he'd come back about this 'Triad' and Havras, but most people would rather not talk about it. Most of what he'd learnt, he'd learned on Miranda. "And what if they show up?" Kent asked the unasked question. "What difference will that make to our preparations to Defend Rom..." he paused then, deciding to correct himself in the Admiral's presence, "... to defend ch'Rihan?"

"We will lose." the Rihanna Admiral replied flatly. The proud woman she'd been years ago would never have admitted it. But she was now, and forever, a pragmatist. It made her a rarity among the veiled-eyed leaders of the Rihannsu. Proud and strong they be, but by the elements were her people blinded by those very traits.

Captain Albrecht of the Thunderchild spoke up, "I have yet to engage in open hostilities with the Hydrans before. Are we to expect a certain disregard for personal safety from their ships, or fanaticism from their troops?"

Summers looked over to Captain M'Kantu. "Daren, you've had the most front-line experience with them these last two years."

"Fanaticism is a difficult concept to judge; there are too many cultural factor to apply to make it easy," Daren replied. "What it means to a Vulcan is not the same thing as it means to a Klingon and so on. That said… no matter how bad the fighting got at Havras, not one single Hydran fighter or capitol ship engaged in a suicide attack. There were no warp-speed rammings, like the Jem'Hadar used against the Odyssey back in the opening of the War, no revenge attacks by crippled ships. They fought to the end – but they fought their ships according to what appears to be established Hydran tactical doctrine."

M'Kantu looked around the room, at the assembled Captains. "They were willing to engage in acts of extreme risk on the individual level – we had sapper teams beamed aboard the exterior hull to place demolitions charges at the base of Galaxy's warp pylons at Havras for example – and they fought bravely by anyone's standards during their boarding actions, but again, there were no suicide charges, no Hydran soldiers with demolition charges trying to take one last man out with them. I think – and this is just a guess, I'm not an expert – that they have some sort of cultural bias or perhaps even a blind spot against actions like that. Now whether that answers your question or not, J.P…." He shrugged.

"Best we can do." Albrecht nodded darkly.

Captain DarkSky remained silent. His presence here was no fluke or "just happened to be in the right area," Jon was intimately familiar with the Hydrans, having fought them on several previous occasions, both from the cockpit of a fighter and later at the helm of a variety of starships, in his tours in the Beta Quadrant. On this occasion, however, he was to portray the role of student, not expert. His areas of experience lay in fighting rouge elements and/or probing attacks, not all out warfare. The eager intensity in his eyes was plain for all to see as he awaited further information to relay to his crews. He didn't care if she was Andorian, Intelligence, or Marine. If Miranda's Captain vouched for her authenticity, DarkSky would not question publicly.

Now Commander Lorem was left thinking about tactics. His ship, the Defiant Class Vigilant, was for lack of a better word a dog-fighter, to borrow from Terran military parlance. They closed in with and destroyed enemy forces... her personally preferred method was using the ships maneuverability to cut a swath through target formations and isolate key ships. With those hellbore weapons of theirs however, getting close in with the Hydrans seemed far less of a good idea then it might ordinarily have been. "I'm presupposing we're going to keep as much distance between our formations and theirs as we can without leaving the system?"

Maggie Vogler sat silently as the whole presentation and following deliberations unfolded. She was a pragmatist, a woman who despite her penchant for a little ranting and raving became frugal to a fault with her words when engaged in a serious situation -- and there were fewer situations more serious than this. Not given to reacting with mouth-gaping, wide-eyed shock, nor the least bit fazed or distracted by T'Shani, AMIE, the Enriov or anything or anyone else in the conference, the crusty veteran had thus far taken in what she saw and heard with intense focus.

"Distance will help keep us alive for awhile," she spoke up, "but we'd better have an offensive plan or some kind of trap for that thing or they'll be chasing us back to our own front door." Then she pensively fixed her gaze on Donatra. "'Starbeast', huh? I don't see the Hydrans dangling a giant carrot or stick. How do you get a creature like that to fetch and roll over?" she asked as she continued to silently ponder.

From the perspective of everyone else, J P Albrecht was unfazed, reading the reports and watching the presentation of the 'Starbeast' with a focused intensity, his slate eyes and unnerving pool of calm. Starbeast was not a part of the more mundane, conventional aspects of war. Starbeast was something outside of his realm of expertise, and not since the last war did he feel such a loss of words. It was a creature bigger than himself and more powerful than he could handle. In this realm, he had to admit he was outclassed by his more forward thinking allies, and relegate himself to the supporting role fighting and dying.

But when they were at a loss and an epiphany hit him, it was willpower that kept him from laughing. His 'smarter' friends' thinking was too complicated. His 'mundane' solution was so obvious to him, and he had a resource in which to do it.

"A dog will scratch when it has fleas in its fur." J P Albrecht grumbled, the old skeletal warhorse of a man standing up from his captain's chair, "You are going the wrong way when thinking about this beast. You don't try to counter it with something bigger, but make it fall with a problem that starts very small, but adds up as it multiplies. What I mean is... you do not fight the Starbeast itself... you fight on it. Any indication of anti boarding countermeasures?"

Chris snorted. "Hell, we're not even sure this thing's got an inside."

"I have people working on that problem," Daren spoke up. "And I'll be glad to pass any ideas on to them, or put them in touch with anyone's Tactical Department to share information. But big as it is, the Starbeast isn't the only issue here. If we spend all our time working on ways to fight it, and ignore the rest of the Hydran fleet, then they'll pick us apart whether we kill it or not."

"The Captain is right." The three-pipper acknowledged with a nod. "From the video it seems this so called 'starbeast' acts in support of the fleet... a very dangerous diversion really. Seems to me our best chance would be to try and divide and conquer as they say. Peel off the Hydran fleet from the Starbeast, envelop and destroy both." The real question was if they could scrape up enough ships to pull that off. The dark skinned Captain Tango of the AKIRA ran his hands through his grey hair and sighed heavily. The headache that he had been battling seemed to have just gotten worse and now he found his hand tingling slightly.

The AKIRA like the THUNDERCHILD was one of the more heavily armed and shielded ships in the battlegroup. It could concievablly go toe to toe with an enemy and more often then not come walking away with a few less bruises. Tacticlly, this meant his crew would be a major part of any offensive.

After decades of a "dove like" attitude, it was with great reluctance that he found himself drawn into the conversation.

"I agree. I'm willing to take the Akira up against the Hydran Fleet and help with the dividing." he said quietly.

And so the gather Captains - with no small amount of assistance from Admiral Donatra, Lieutenant sh'Akledor and AMIE - planned, and plotted. They schemed, they related everything they'd discussed or planned with their own tactical staffs, every piece of data available on the Hydrans, no matter how small. The hours passed, and they continued to plot and scheme until finally they almost had what all of them believed to be a workable plan for the defense of Romulus.

"I still think we need stronger reinforcement here at the - " Chris Summers was saying, pointing at a portion of the Tactical holo of the Romulan Home system. He was interrupted by the sound of his commbadge chirping.

Dark expressions appeared on the face of every officer in the room, particularly as Donatra's own communicator went off. She stepped to the side for her own conversation as the voice of Commander Dakota Harris, Summers' Communications officer, filtered into the holographic briefing room. ["Signal from Renegade Five, Captain."] the young woman said crisply. ["Sighting confirmed. The Hydran Fleet came out of cloak - or whatever it is they have - on the edge of the system. They're moving on a straight-line course for Romulus. They're coming in from above the ecliptic, ETA at Romulus is forty-three minutes."]

"Acknowledged, Commander." Summers replied, feeling the pit in his stomach beginning to gnaw. "Inform Commander Jaxom to signal the red alert, and notify Colonels Mitchell and Arvelion. I'll be right up. Summers out."

"I've got to get back to my flagship." Donatra said simply, and immediately faded out from the room.

"Hope what we've got planned for them is enough," Captain Reynolds commented quietly.

"It'll have to be." Chris said, giving the younger woman a reassuring look. "All right, Captains, you heard the lady. Let's get to work."

"This Is It"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
LtCmdr Spa'an

Jaal walked into the main science labs. Normally he'd be looking for Erastus, but she wasn't working there at the moment. She was continuing her studies on the Romulan homworld below. Right now, the Trill wanted to talk to the department chief, Spa'an. "Good afternoon, 'Commander. Got a minute?"

The Vulcan looked up from the PADD he's spent the last hour or so poring over to see what he could learn from his analysis of the Hydran fighter. He was reluctant to abandon the task, as it had so far presented the only substantial diversion from thoughts of T'Ashaya. Although her physical absence had helped him substantially to regain some self-control, unwanted images of her continued to circulate through his mind, requiring considerable effort to ignore.

"I have much more than a minute, Commander," he replied, interjecting some dry -- very dry -- Vulcan humor. "How may I assist you?"

Jaal let a small smile show at Spa'an's attempt at being funny. "I'd like an update on what's been found by the science department on the Hydran fighter; specifically, if there's anything we can use to extrapolate what their capital ships might be carrying. I also want to know what their comm-frequencies are. This way we can effectively jam their ship to ship as much as possible."

"It is a most intriguing design. The Hydrans, it appears, have been able to alter the molecular structure of the hull and supporting framework to make the compositional material much lighter and more resilient than its natural density would otherwise allow. Although I have continued to analyze samples, I am still uncertain of how they have accomplished this. The fighter's interior is quite small, suggesting that it was designed with enough room to carry only its pilot and its own systems. I very much doubt that it could carry anything else of significant size.

"As for the communications system," he continued, "we have linked it with the Miranda's comm relays in the chance that we might ultimately be able to utilize the Hydrans' own bandwidths to eavesdrop, as it were, on their communications. Thus far, we have been only marginally successful, managing only to determine that the frequencies they use, while not outside our ability to access, are not static. Their system appears to be capable of scrambling communications across several frequencies in rapid alternation. The pattern of alternation may be entirely random or may be based on a very complex logarithm that we do not yet know.

"In short, I am afraid what we do not know about the vessel, or Hydran technology in general, still far outweighs what we do know."

Before Jaal could reply his commbadge beeped. ["Commander,"] Jaal didn't know the voice but it sounded urgent. ["Captain Summers wants you to call the red alert. The Hydrans have been spotted at the edge of the system and they'll be here in about forty minutes."]

Jaal tapped his badge to respond, "Acknowledged." He looked at Spaan with a wistful smile, "Showtime."

He tapped his badge again to make an announcement to the entire ship. He was already heading out of the science lab and on his way to the bridge as he spoke. "This is Commander Jaxom. Red alert, go to battlestations. Repeat, red alert, go to battlestations...."

==Bridge==

Jaal walked out of the turbo lift with gritted teeth. The bridge was a beehive of activity. Everyone was going about their business getting ready for the fight that was coming. The lights were dimmed to view the monitors better and an eerie red glow from the red alert indicators permeated everything.

Captain Summers hadn't arrived just yet. The Trill glanced at the command chair but didn't sit in it. Instead he took up a place just behind the conn/ops consoles and monitored the ship's functions from there. A number of the crew were still on the Romulan homeworld... including Erastus. No time to worry about that now. She and the others were trained officers. They knew how to handle themselves.

He took a deep breath and ordered the main viewscreen on. "Let's have a look at what we're up against..."

"Red Alert"

Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer USS London
Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

John had been sprawled out on the couch in his office, hoping to get a quick hour in, when the Red Alert klaxon rang out. "I'm up" he called out to no one in particular, sitting up. Picking his jacket up of the side of the sofa, he head out the door, to the nearest turbolift.

Moments later, John arrived on the Bridge, looking fresher than he had moments earlier. Stepping down to the massive Flight Control Station at the front of the Bridge, he took over from his subordinate. He idly wondered how everyone else was doing throughout the ship. Hearing the Turbolift doors open, he glanced round to see the first Officer coming up behind him.

"Let's have a look at what we're up against..." the Commander ordered.

Johns fingers danced across the Helm, as he took Miranda out of Orbit of ch'Rihan. He knew as well as the next guy that a Starship was least maneuverable when in a planetary orbit.

-----

The Captains meeting had disolved pretty quickly once the Hydrans had been sighted. Exiting his Ready Room, Kent Logan headed onto the Bridge. 'To keep the peace' he mused 'you must prepare for War'.

"Captain..." someone began, but he wasn't sure who.

"Red Alert, All crew to Battlestations." He called out. When he reached his Command Chair, he hit the comm button, "The Hydrans have been sighted. Repeat, the Hydrans have been sighted. All Hands Battlestations."

The lights dropped, the klaxons blared out across the bridge, and the London crew prepared for the inevitable.

-----

John looked at his console, as the icons representing all the ships in the Fleet formed up behind the Miranda and the Galaxy. The names of the ships just stood out. Icarus. Concorde. Arizona. Texas. Exeter. London. Sao Paolo. Thunderbird. Thunderchild. Akira. Hood. Mukaikubo. Olympic. Typhon. Valiant. This was it, Ramirez knew, this could only go one of two ways. One - Starfleet would win, and this would all be over soon, or Two...

...John shook his head. The other option didn't bare thinking about.

"The Hour of The Sword"

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Daren M'Kantu's Cabin

"... so, if you're seeing this, Joan, then, well... you already know what's happened. I just want you to remember that I love you and Bahiyah, and that nothing, not even death, will ever make that change." Daren looked at the screen for a moment, decided that there was nothing left to say, and added, "Until we see each other in Paradise, dear."

=/\= "Computer end recording. File with my will and other documents and update in the ships' disaster log for transmission in the event of hostilities."=/\=

=/\="Acknowledged."=/\=

That was done now, as it was always done before any fight he knew was coming. Daren had seen too many people lost to their loved ones without a word in his time with Starfleet, too many families that never found the closure that they needed because the words that would have given it to them were never recorded. After Wolf 359 he'd promised that June would have those words from him, and he'd kept them on file, updating them each time it had been necessary.

Now it was time to think of other things, to set aside his duties as a father and husband - even though he'd failed at one of those, and almost failed at the other - and pick up another set of duties, donning them like armor to ride out and do battle with the dragon of chaos that he'd sworn to oppose. It was time to set aside the man of peace and become, again, the warrior that was needed.

It was time to fight in defense of those that could not defend themselves; to stand, as men - human and not - had stood time and time again since there were men to do so, and fight against the darkness, to beat it back for just a little bit more. To give back the children of Rihannsu something that they had lost... to give them hope.

=/\="M'Kantu to Tactical. Time to Hydran entry into the system, Commander Todd?"=/\=

=/\="Six minutes, sir. No more than fifty minutes after that to first hostile contact."=/\=

=/\=" Take us to Red Alert, Commander. All hands to battle stations, all non-combatants to the battle shelters. It's time to take up the sword."=/\=

=/\="Aye, sir,"=/\= she responded.

Daren stood, looked around his quarters one last time and started for the door.

He would have preferred to meet the Hydrans as equals, to learn from them and teach them, to share in the exploration of the universe that Allah had given everyone... but that was not to be. Not yet. Perhaps in time.

For now... for now it was the Hour of the Sword, and he would wield it in defense of the people that had been his enemies for many years just as he had wielded it in defense of his own people years before.

"Curry Chicken and other Starbeasts"

Lt. Saul Bental Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Ensign Veronica Nila Science Officer, USS Galaxy

* * * * * * * * * * * 26 minutes later * * * * * * * * * * *

Veronica had the meal steaming and the whole room filled with the aroma of a home cooked meal. Every time she cooked it reminded her of home. She took out a bottle of white wine that she took aboard when she transferred she usually uses it to cook but also goes good with chicken. She set the table with modest place settings, nothing elaborate.

At the table, Saul continued to show Lali the ropes of ship-board intelligence analysis. It was harder and harder to make her concentrate, as the terrific smells from Veronica's kitchenette drew her attention.

"Food from home..." She said, licking her lips with anticipation.

"Well both of you will enjoy this. It is a favorite of mine. Again enjoy." Veronica placed three plates full of homemade curry chicken for their enjoyment. Veronica sat down and began a ritual of placing her napkins on her lap neatly. "So you two are in intelligence, have any ideas what were up against? I heard that the entire Romulan fleet was decimated. I hope we fare better then the Romulans." She gave a worried look almost as if she hoped that she wouldn't die on her first assignment. Then she took a small portion of rice on her fork and it almost made the thought go away.

Saul and Lali exchanged glances. Just the day before, in the department meeting, Saul told them all how vital it was to keep restricted information to themselves, and that there were morale issues and the safety of 'covert sources' to consider. It was Saul who spoke up.

"We have only partial information, but let's say this is not the best time to join the Galaxy."

"Is there ever a good time?", Lali asked, earning a glare from her commander.

"The second fleet was the Romulans' finest, and more Romulan forces were decimated in the mean time. ch'Rihan isn't any Romulan world, though, and I expect they'll make a strong stand here. If ch'Rihan is lost to a third-rate galactic power like the Hydrans, it would be a sensation on interstellar scale."

"Well at any rate I hope that we all survive. I hope as science officer I can make a contribution to our survival. Perhaps we will not have to fight. If my history serves me well the Hydrans aren't known for their aggressive nature. I don't think it likely they will rampage across the galaxy conquering everything in their path, granted they may have a vendetta, but I believe there after something, and something specific. Well time will tell. How's the food?" Having finished her analysis Veronica saw too it that she enjoyed her meal. She kept waiting for some reaction from her guest about the food as any good chef would do.

"Tasty!" Lali beamed.

"Compliments for the chef." Saul agreed. Most of the chicken on his plate was already gone. "What's your specialty, as a scientist? Xenology? Physics? Chemistry?"

"I have a Doctorate in quantum physics, it is a passion of mine." Veronica responded, she almost forgot the she was a Doctor. She had been going by Starfleet titles for so long. "I received the Doctorate before I entered the Academy on the Talis Observatory.

"Quantum physics.", Saul repeated. Ensign Nila didn't look much older than him. And yet, she earned her doctor's degree, AND spent at least two years at the academy if not four. Incredible. Bran, he recalled, also had a Ph.D. in psychology. And she was younger than him.

Again and again, he had to remind himself that Starfleet had tens of billions of people from which to pick the most brilliant. Even officers which graduates with mediocre grades, like Nyoko, would be considered extremely bright in normal society.

It was sheer luck that they let a street kid from Utrecht III in.

"Impressive." Saul continued. "Then maybe your expertise can help. Do you have any knowledge regarding the underlying physics of cloaking devices?"

"Well, it all depends on what kind of cloaking device. Most of the well known cloaking technology uses a combination of neutrino emissions that mask the ships presence. These older devises often coincide with trace amounts of chroniton particles. It is sometimes difficult to detect they usually show up as common ambient anomalies." Veronica thought back to research she had done in the past.

"Now or days there is theoretical cloaking research in the upper echelons of Star Fleet core of Engineers regarding using anionic particle emissions to bring normal matter out of phase with normal space and is virtually impossible to detect. I worked with anionic particle emissions during my research at the Talis Observatory and its uses for energy sources." Veronica thought some more about in depth research that is suppose to be theoretical but with her research she has concluded that theses things are very real and could have very real implications. "Well Star Fleet officially classifies all this as theoretical." She stated sarcastically.

"I remember reading about a year ago or so that information received from the U.S.S. Enterprise has sensor readings regarding the use of Thalaron radiation on a Reman ship. But with my seniority level I wouldn't have access to that information directly. I believe my last professor might be able to. Oh well." She said leaving it alone figuring this conversation wouldn't come up again. She paused again for a moment figuring that once again she had over analyzed things and may have lost her guest in tedious techno babble.

Saul frowned slightly. Unknown to Veronica and Lali, he recently had to deal with Thalaron weapons falling into the hands of supposedly extinct aliens on Cheron.

"In my line of work nothing is impossible, everything has a pattern of detection it just a matter of finding it. In this case many new technologies are quantum in nature and normal or old physics no longer apply. But I'm sure you don't want a physics lesson." She smiled finishing up her meal.

"Nothing is impossible, eh?" Saul smiled wryly. "In that case, I was wondering if it is even theoretically possible to cloak something as big as..." He quickly wrote down the approximated dimensions of the Hydran star beast on his PADD, and handed it over to Veronica, "... this."

Veronica took the PADD from Lt. Bental and began looking at the dimensions. "Why would you want to cloak something so big…" She paused again as her mind began wrapping around equations. "It would take huge amounts of energy to cloak something this big and for it to be undetectable would be astronomical, neutrino based cloaks would be easily detectable at this size and Thalaron radiation is rare and unstable at these amounts. No, its not practical with any known technology today it would take 42.45 times the maximum output of a normal anti-mater reactor." Veronica stated as she finished the equation on the PADD, she then started to kick around some ideas in her head. She stood up and paced around the room with the PADD in her had.

"The only thing big enough to hide something like that with out detection… would be sub space or some sort of dimensional shift, similar to trans warp but more closely related to slip stream, the energy output would be massive but only temporary to bring it in or out of sub space, theoretically.

"'Theoretically', or are you aware of any Starfleet research in that field?" Saul inquired. "I think it also bypasses our agreements in regards of Federation usage of cloaking devices."

Veronica's mind was spinning with several hypotheses. She looked at Saul and Lali and sat back down as she started to put two and two together. "You don't think this has something to do with the Hydrans… Oh God." She stopped mid sentence and looked down at the PADD wondering if she was getting her self into some kind of trouble as her anxiety level rose sharply.

"Pure guesswork, Veronica." Saul said in a soothing voice. "Without going into details, we don't know exactly what happened to the second fleet. We DO know it was defeated in thirty minutes. So one of the guesses was that perhaps the Hydran stole a cloaking device and used it to hide an ace."

He noticed that Lali was distressed as well. She probably wasn't happy with him lying to their host and using her knowledge after she has been so kind to them. 'She better get used to it if she's going to work with me.' He mused.

"But if you say it's impossible, it probably is.", Saul continued, then pretended to realize something. "Oh! And please, don't go tell everyone that intel thinks the enemy cloaked a ship the size of Corran Rex's ego. It'll just frighten everyone, and for no good reason whatsoever." Veronica smiled at the joke. She noticed the line of quasi interrogation and increasing ease of his voice and mannerisms. She figured the consequences. If someone found out that any bit of sensitive information came from her it could mean her career. Then again she thought that if it would help the current crises she would do all that she could, discreetly of course. After all she wasn't born yesterday, yet the subtle cheap shot at her intelligence was enough to get it out of her. Veronica gave the smooth intell officer a smirk. She then looked at Lali and gave her a wink.

"Well the answer is yes, I do know of some THEORETICAL research going on, but only vicariously…" Veronica emphasized the word theoretical as if it were some political term. "You're correct that under the treaty of Algeron the Federation is forbidden from the research and use of such technology." She stated loudly.

Veronica got increasingly quite and lowered her voice to an almost whisper. She looked directly into Saul's eyes. "However, I am not in the loop on some key notes of the research but I know someone who is. It has plenty of relevance to this…" She paused and looked at the PADD again. "Math problem."

All of the sudden a small siamese cat jumped on the table imediatly rubbing her face against Lt. Bental. A gentle meauw and the cat began to purr. The kitty sniffed her way over to what was left on Saul's plate and proceeded to take a bit of left over chicken.

"Oh, Shi'shi stop." Veronica picked the kitty up and began petting her.

Veronica did it she probably gotten her self in a whole lot of trouble or contributed something to the survival of this ship and perhaps this entire quadrant. Veronica was not naive she knew that the Federation kept a few pockets of ready to go research under the guise of theoretical or clown science as she called it. It was intentionally kept vague and misrepresented. But only a few scientists were able to pick out the various misplaced research and were the only ones who had the proofs and equations.

Veronica never knew that she would have to remember anything of it. Her mentor told her all this in a private conversation that clown sciences were just a facade. This was all just a few days before her mentor Dr. Angela Braden signed on her PhD.

"Counselor on Loan" -- pt. 4

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidi
l Asst. Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Lt. Brendan Mullen (NPC)
Chief of Operations USS Exeter

Captain Margarethe Vogler (NPC)
Commanding Officer USS Exeter

It took only moments from the end of the Captains' briefing for Vogler to change the mood aboard the Exeter from mildly apprehensive to electrified as she strode from her ready room and declared yellow alert. Across the ship -- indeed, across the fleet -- men and women in Starfleet uniforms dropped whatever they were doing and shifted to a battle-ready posture.

For Vogler's still green crew, this was it. This was the moment they'd anticipated; some with eagerness, some with dread, some with a little of each. Whatever came next, everyone knew it would be the ultimate test of everything the Academy and life aboard their first assignment had taught and prepared them for.

Having assumed the role of ship's counselor, Brian Elessidil had been talking with Lt. John Barrett, a young but extremely bright officer who Captain Vogler had hand-picked to be her new Chief Engineer. The Exeter was only the second starship Barrett had served on, but he'd distinguished himself in his previous assignment as reliable and resourceful, two qualities his new CO valued. Like the other men and women the counselor had the chance to meet, the lieutenant was excited about being part of this task force assembled to aid one of the Federation's enigmatic former adversaries, and had great confidence in Captain Vogler's leadership, despite her frequently hard and demanding demeanor. While Brian understood the Captain's concern for the newness of her crew, he'd thus far been impressed with the positive energy that he'd seen, even in the midst of some apprehension.

Mostly positive energy, anyway. There were always exceptions, and Elessidil was about to share a turbolift with one.

Responding to the captain's call for senior officers, Lt. Mullen glanced to the counselor when they simultaneously requested "bridge" to the turbolift computer. The younger officer's calm exterior belied his surprise.

"Counselor," he greeted with a curt nod.

"Lieutenant."

"Coming to see how we hold up under the pressure?"

"Actually, Captain Vogler called me to the bridge as part of the senior staff," Brian succinctly answered. He immediately sensed Mullen's unspoken displeasure.

"Ah. No doubt she wants someone who can provide moral support to the younger officers while she's absorbed with the Hydrans."

Eyebrow raised, Brian cast a sideways glance in the lieutenant's direction. Whether it was Brian himself, the fact that he was a counselor, or the fact that he was not part of the Exeter's crew, it was clear that his presence did not sit well with the Ops chief. Regardless, as the smirk on his face implied, Mullen apparently held little regard for the counselor's usefulness or competence. But it wasn't the first time he'd encountered that kind of reaction, one that seemed most counselors were required to endure at one time or another.

"No doubt," he offered in return.

When they arrived at the bridge, the scene was already one of action. Young officers manned every station, some every now and then crossing the floor to confer with others, while Captain Vogler occupied her seat at the center of the bridge, discussing strategy with her first officer. Lieutenant Mullen went directly to the Ops station to relieve the ensign who'd been on duty, while Brian walked toward the command chair to see what the captain wanted him to do and, absent a seat to the CO's left for the ship's counselor, where she wanted him to do it.

"Counselor Elessidil," Vogler greeted, looking up from her planning. "This is Marc Reardon, my first officer. Marc, Lieutenant Commander Elessidil, on loan to us compliments of Daren M'Kantu." As the two men exchanged a brief handshake, the captain continued.

"I want you up here for several reasons. First, as acting ship's counselor, I want you to take responsibility for monitoring the readiness and condition of my bridge officers and all departments ship-wide. Second, you're Betazoid and you may be able to provide useful insights when we encounter the enemy. And third, you're a bridge-certified officer and an experienced helmsman, both of which could be of value in the event of an emergency."

Brian saw Lieutenant Mullen turn toward them in his seat slightly upon hearing the captain's last item.

"Understood," the counselor replied.

"Fine. We're not as spacious as the Galaxy-class ship you're used to, so I don't have a designated counselor's chair. Take the secondary Ops station," she instructed, gesturing to one of the consoles along the back wall of the bridge. Then she returned to her discussion with Reardon.

As he followed his orders, Brian couldn't help but be a little glad the secondary Ops station was at the other end of the bridge from the primary Ops station, a sentiment he was certain Lieutenant Mullen shared.

For the most part, the rest of the bridge crew paid little attention to the counselor in their midst, absorbed with the various monitoring and preparations the circumstances required. Brian wondered what was going on back aboard the Galaxy, but quickly made himself re-focus on his duty here. Captain M'Kantu would never have agreed to loan him out if he didn't know his counseling staff was sufficiently capable to take up any slack; and Karyn, Branwen, Miramon and the rest were nothing if not capable.

Still, it was difficult to banish from his mind their faces and the faces of the people he knew, not just on the Galaxy but on some of the other ships in the fleet as well, as each and every one of them braced themselves for what was to come.

"Picking Holes"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Assistant Chief of Engineering

&

Ensign Cedric Blair

(Set directly after "Prepping the Ship" pt 2)

***Location: Main Engineering USS Galaxy***

Once the meeting came to a close Dhanishta turned her attentions to the newest addition to the Engineering departments family, one Cederic Blair. Gathering up her padds from the earlier discussions she looked across the table and smiled, "How do you like the Galaxy so far Ensign?" she asked. It was strange, she reflected, that she after only being here a few years, was now 'welcoming' a new recruit to the team.

Cedric paused for a brief moment before replying, truth be told he hadn't really thought about how well he liked the Galaxy. Nothing seemed to strike him as being particularly bad or unpleasant and he did have knowledge of her history thanks to the former Chief Tactical Officer, and his cousin, Troy Blair. Sure his quarters weren't that much larger than his dorm room at the Academy, but he didn't have a roommate so that was a big plus.

As he stood there reflecting on his short time spent on the Galaxy, it suddenly occurred to him that his brief pause had turned into uncomfortable silence; "She's a fine ship ma'am. I couldn't be happier about this assignment."

Dhanishta's puzzled frown turned rather quickly into a smile accompanied by a chuckle.

"Just wait till the Hydren get here, you'll wish you were anywhere else but on this ship." she informed him trying to make light of their upcoming situation.

"Anyway," she moved on quickly realizing that she was supposed to be encouraging and optimistic, "I wanted your input on another project." She handed him a padd detailing the Galaxy's defensives; namely the shields.

"I want you to pick some holes Ensign; find me every weak spot that we have."

Blair took the PADD and quickly scanned the information with his eyes; "That shouldn't be a problem, ma'am. I know someone who can be of great service" he replied.

"I can have this to you by 13:00 tomorrow." the Ensign added. Cedric had a calm demeanour despite the situation they would all face in the near future- a trait that is common in most Blairs.

Dhanishta gave him a satisfactory nod, "Good." she said, "Cause once you have done that, I want a full report on counter measures." she threw him a slightly devious smile.

It felt strange to her to be delegating these sort of tasks out instead of doing them herself, but she would not let this ship be caught unawares again, now she was assistant chief she had so many other responsibilities to handle; more than she though possible. How the hell did Grey manage all the duty rosters, work details, report for work herself *and* have a social life was beyond Dhani. At the moment it felt as if all her energy was going into the sole task of keeping the department ticking over. Most of her time was spent in Main Engineering now instead of out and about doing jobs – which quite frankly she missed.

She watched him as he digested the information and chuckled, "Once you're through with that, I expect you to present you findings to the tactical department!" she joked as she walked off leaving him standing there. She was only joking, but he didn't know that; it was good to keep your new recruits on their toes.

"Concern…." (Set just before everything hits the ventilation system)

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

Chief Medical Officer

USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Dhanista Eshe

Assistant Chief Engineer

USS Galaxy

Holodeck Three

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lounging in the holodeck, idly watching the moon drift slowly overhead Kimberly mused about recent events, chief amongst them was the somewhat bizarre encounter and subsequent drinking session with Dhani.

Waking up in the morning to find your drinking partner gone was something you expected, especially if your drinking partner was male, but she'd really thought the two of them had made some headway in their relationship.

And with a couple of messages ignored she was starting to wonder just what was going on here. Did the woman hate her? Was is 'cause of the medical degree? What?

~ Frell it! ~ Tapping her commbadge, "Burton to Eshe!" she called suddenly to the thin air.

Stuck in a conduit half hanging out of an open panel Dhani jumped as the call came through, banging her head on the lip above her.

“Ouch, Dam and &^%$” she cursed rubbing her scalp. Swiveling her petite frame round she crouched on her haunches, wobbled some; steadying herself against the wall of the conduit, tapped her commbadge in acknowledgment, “Eshe here, go ahead Doctor.” she replied politely, all the while cursing the interruption.

Lost for words for a second as she hadn’t really thought this through, spur of the moment decisions were occasionally momentous occasions for her, a superb chance to display her surgical talents and extract both her feet from her mouth, “Hi,” she said a little lamely after a second or two, “I was wondering if you were free?” she asked, her voice speeding up a little as she formed a less than cunning plan.

Dhanishta pulled a face ~it’s obvious that you do~ she retorted. She looked around at the open tool kit and exposed chips and shrugged, “Yeah, why not?” she questioned back over the com. “Could use a break. Give me ten to clear up and I’ll be with you. Is it important?” she asked casually, wondering suddenly if this was work, pleasure or Dhani’s health that Burton was calling about.

If it was either of the former Dhani would be happy to go. However if it was the latter, no matter how much head way they had made the other night towards a friendship – it just wasn’t going to happen, at least not right this second. The ship was more important, right?

“Nope, not really, I’m on Holodeck Three at the moment and just wondered if you were free is all. We haven’t had a chance to chat lately is all, and before everything hits the ventilation system again I just thought it’d be nice to chat again?”

Dhanishta scratched her head for a moment in contemplation. Part of her really wanted to go, the other was screaming ‘duty’. “I’ll be with you in a mo, but only for an hour or so as I still have a lot of work to do.”

*** 10 minutes later ***

Dhanishta appeared outside holodeck three as promised. Although there was no sign of Kimberly. Dhanishta waited for a few seconds longer before conning on to the fact that she might just be *in* the hollodeck.

It was strange to just open the door onto another persons program, you just never knew what you might find…

Hearing the familiar sound of the holodeck door opening and closing Kimberly stood up and brushed the sand from her knees, sticking her head out of the temple door she waved to Eshe in the bright moonlight and called to her, “Hey, over here,” she called, not really worried about the program, she was the only living being for almost fifty miles right now, so there was no rush, “Thanks for joining me,” she said with a smile.

Dhanishta quirked an eyebrow at the scene before her, it was like taking a trip to her birth place; sand as far as the eye could see, being night and all wasn’t that far, though the light from the moon certainly helped. The hills in the distance rolled gracefully accenting the features of this rather beautiful scene, if Dhani didn’t know any better she would think that the doctor was trying to seduce her.

“Not a problem.” Dhanishta replied with a smile, “But I gotta ask, where the hell are we?” she gestured to the strange tents that littered the desert and the rather large plane.

As she got closer to Burton she also added somewhat comically, “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“Egypt, Terra,” she explained, “it’ll cool down very quickly in a moment,” she cautioned Dhani, “the sun’s just set,” indicating the fiery horizon in the distance, “It’s a program I run once in a while to unwind, helps me relax and think,” she explained, “old Earth, several hundred years ago, hence the clothes.” Walking over to a well dug into the ground she pulled on a rope and pulled up a cluster of glass bottles, dripping and cool even in the heat. Offering one to Dhani she took one for herself and drank some of the cool lemonade, “Thanks for coming down, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, I thought you’d be off duty around now?” she asked, noticing that Dhani was still in uniform.

Accepting the drink Dhani shrugged, "The heat doesn't bother me. Born on Vulcan," she explained, "that place is hotter."

She smiled and unzipped her duty jacket. She may be used to the heat but in comparison to the ship beyond the door it was still hot. "There is still a lot to do to make sure the ship is ready for combat." Dhani informed Burton as she took a look around, "We are working on several projects at the moment, hence the double shifts."

She paused just a few meters from the Boeing 247. "And this?" she asked perplexed, pointing with her index finger.

“Old Earth aircraft, Boeing two four seven,” she explained, “state of the art for it’s time. I built a replica while I was at the academy with a few class mates, I think it’s still there actually,” she added, thinking for a moment about the fate of the replica they had built, “Is combat a certainty then?” she asked, suddenly looking like the heat of the day had settled again on her shoulders as they sagged slightly.

Dhanishta tried to smile to cover up how she felt about the situation, “I was here the last time we faced them. You weren’t.” she didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it sounded, but their last encounter was playing heavily on her mind. So were her recent troubles. The two seemed to clash inside her. All the time she was working she felt useful, focused. But when she stopped and had time to think and everything just gnawed at her.

She knew that she had to do something about her health, and her mental disposition. Talking to Miramon had helped, and she knew that Burton would do anything she could to keep her body functioning. But Dhani didn’t seem to care as much as they did. Or rather she preferred to ignore it.

But now she was in a position of authority and she needed to care. But she had brought up so much already. And she didn’t want to confess to Burton what she had done. It was a strange sensation, and it had sneaked up on her so quietly, but she didn’t want to jeopardize the friendship that they were forming.

Forcing herself to stay calm, not to run scream or shout; at Burton or the voices inside her head she offered up a half smile and returned to a spot near Burton and sat down.

Crossing her legs she took a swig of her drink and looked around. “So…” she murmured, wondering what to say next, “how was your hangover?” she offered lamely.

“I don’t remember much of it,” Kimberly admitted wryly, “the morning after seemed to pass in a sort of haze, with this very annoying pain right behind my left eye,” she added. “Didn’t help either when Sara-Jayne came home and teased me mercilessly for a few hours…. How was yours? I don’t recall you leaving, but then a horde of rampaging Klingons could’ve tap-danced on my forehead all wearing pink tutu’s and I wouldn’t have noticed!”

Dhani giggled spilling a little of her drink as her shoulders bounced, “I was late for a departmental meeting.” She laughed again, “I ran all the way there, straightened out my clothes outside the door, and to hid the skink of alcohol on my breath I sucked on a lolly though-out the meeting!”

Laughing aloud Kimberly tried to imaging the still drunk engineer staggering her way through a department meeting with a lollipop in her mouth, "I am so glad I was on Delta that evening, I couldn't have managed a morning shift," shaking her head with a smile, "we'll have to do that again soon," she asked tentatively.

“Agreed.” Dhani said still smiling, “Just remind me to check my work schedule first though!”

Shifting on her makeshift seat Dhani stared up at Burton for a moment, “Why did you really ask me down here?” she asked suddenly.

Looking a little uncomfortable all of a sudden Kimberly shrugged and turned back to the well to haul up another bottle, “To be honest, I just wanted to have a chat for a moment, there’s so much going on at the moment and so many people getting ready to fight, to kill,” dropping the bundle back into the well with a splash she turned back to Dhani, “I don’t get much of a chance to just chat lately, it’s all reports and assessments and duty, if you’re busy, maybe we could talk when you’re off duty?”

Dhanishta bit her lip. To be honest she didn't really want to go. Now that she was here she was more tempted to get the drinks out and chat all night. That was the weirdest thing she had ever thought to do, seeing as she wasn't normally the chatty kind. But then in retrospect maybe that was who she was becoming, after all she had barged into the counselors quarters at gods only know what time. Maybe she should embrace this 'new Dhani'.

"I would like that." Dhani replied with a soft smile, "To be honest it feels as if I am working and sleeping and nothing else. The impending doom does have me a little stressed out. Would be nice to take a break from it all. We might have to make rules though." she added with a playful scolding look, "Like no drinking. Or at least eat before we drink?" she suggested.

Laughing merrily all of a sudden Kimberly nodded, “Okay, deal,” she agreed, “and not too much blood wine, it took all day for my voice to come back after the last round!” she said with another chuckle, “when this is all over, we’ll have to sort out an evening, dinner, drink and a long chat about life the universe and men!” she decided.

Dhanishta tried to smile at that. In fact she forced herself too, all the while praying that they would make it out of this alive. Raising her bottle of lemonade she toasted that, “To partially drunken chats about life the universe and everything, then.” she said as their bottles clinked. Taking a swig and trying not to choke on it, the weight of their situation bearing down on her, she stood up regretfully.

“I have to get back.” she indicated towards the door adding a sigh.

Looking around at the recreation she had been wandering around in for less than a half hour she nodded regretfully, “Me too I guess, there’s too much to do, and as relaxing as this is there’re more important things to attend to.”

“Computer, exit,” she called as she picked up a bag from the floor, “until later then.”

Dhani smiled softly, “Yeah.” she agreed placing the bottle on the space that she had been sitting, “Till later.”

Dhanishta turned to leave but half turning stayed, looking back at Kimberly she smiled again, and for a moment felt awkward as she deliberated on what to do…. ~ Screw it ~ she decided.

Walking back up to Burton she hugged her, tightly. All the while wanting to say ~you better make it to a later or...~ but she couldn’t fill in the rest of the threat.

She was too afraid to admit that she cared that much, after all, everyone that she had made friends with died. And they were about to go into the fray, admitting that she was fond of Burton was all she was going to allow herself to do. Because admitting anymore than that, admitting that she was really beginning to like the woman and really wanted to have her as a friend and wanted to know what it meant to be a friend herself. Well then it would hurt all that much more when the inevitable happened and they adorned that black torpedo tube with the Federation flag. She had lot too many that way already

“You take care as well!” Kimberly muttered, hugging her back.

"A three hour cruise" Part two in a series

Ensign T'Ashaya, USS Miranda
Ensign Robert Mathieson, USS Galaxy

The yacht sped forward. As promised, the bow provided both a spectacular view and relative privacy. The sounds of the party drifted from the stern. The Hydrans were nearly on their doorstep, and yet these Romulans chose to party rather than prepare. In some ways, T'Ashaya believed she understood why they would make such a choice.

She chose not to think about them. Instead, she focused on the horizon, looking for the tell-tale breath of mammalian life within the seas. Darwin had told her that Long Migration had heard singers here. She thought she heard them, too.

Her human companion, despite his fatigue, seemed awestruck by the natural grace of the Romulan home world. The skies overhead were a slightly deeper blue than what he remembered in his youth on Earth, but no less beautiful. The surrounding sea was a deep cyan, flecked with the occasional whitecap spawned by the gentle breeze coming from the fore. It was a stark contrast from dry, barren Cheron – yet elements of the experience were similar; there was still a tangible air of distrust about, masked by the insincere smiles given him by the hosts on board.

His Vulcan companion seemed oblivious to the experience. Her eyes remained focused on the horizon, her ears tuned to the sounds of the sea. She leaned far out over the bow, a scanner in one hand, unaware of the way the spray soaked the sheer green silk of the dress she wore.

Her head turned in response to some sound the Doctor couldn't hear. The scanner in her hand chirped, confirming what she'd already heard. She signaled the craft's navigator and the yacht turned.

Mathieson came out of his reverie to ask the biologist a question as he saw her movement, but snapped his attention back to the horizon in an instant. ~Christ! I'm old, not bleedin' dead!~ Over his other shoulder he cast a quick glance at the yacht's flying bridge – the Senator's wide, predatory smile and narrowed eyes spoke volumes. The

Romulan was not looking at the waters. ~An' she honestly doesn't have a clue. Oy fekkin' vey!~

The doctor pretended to turn his gaze to the whitecaps and the drifting clouds ahead of the watercraft, while giving the young Vulcan ensign a gentle nudge. "Think a jacket might be in order, lass", he whispered as quietly as he could.

She offered him a shrug. "I do not find myself cold, Doctor." Her attention returned to the scanner and she turned slightly, offering him a better view. "I've detected life signs at two points to starboard."

"Blimey, 'at's wonderful", Mathieson lied aloud thanked the powers he was already red due to a Cheronian sunburn. Keeping focused on the horizon, he lowered his voice once more. "The jacket's actually meant to, er... lower the temperature, T'Ashaya. Smile, look back 180 degrees and wave at the nice Romulan wiv th' buggy eyes - you'll see what I mean."

She glanced in the direction that the Doctor indicated. While she was usually unselfconscious about her physique and generally oblivious to the general aesthetics of her appearance, she wasn't stupid, either. There were far too many stories about what Romulan men did to Vulcan women. The Vulcan Tsunami donned the proffered coat and returned her attention to the sea.

Still, given the trend of her general luck with men, it seemed most logical that the doctor might be mistaken about the object of Senator Aieme's attentions. "I think someone likes you, Doctor," she suggested.

A loud snort preceded Mathieson's hushed reply. "Yeh, true, I've but buns o' steel fer an old fart, lass - but if ol' Aieme scopin' me out wi' his peepers, then I'm the bleedin' Tooth Fairy. An' fer the record, I prefer the ladies thank-you-very-much. Trust one who's done

that kind 'o fishing' before - he's *not" checkin' out the bald, stout agin' physician."

"I sincerely doubt that he's really interested in me, either, Doctor," T'Ashaya countered so softly that the doctor almost couldn't hear her. "I have twice proven that I cannot hold the attentions of a male in pon-farr. It is my suspicion that I'm medically defective in some manner. What would make a Rihannha any different in that regard? They do not seem to have any mating drive at all."

The physician couldn't help but steal a glance at the attractive Vulcan woman standing in the ocean's spray. "'Medically defective' my arse! Jus' twenty years too young an' half a foot too tall, otherwise yer somethin t' tempt a Ferengi off latininum. Take a good look at the ol' boy back there, an' tell me all e's interested is the wildlife!"

"If he is interested in anything, he is interested in seeing if certain embarrassing rumors are true, and nothing more."

A sharp blast of air off to port interrupted the Vulcan woman. "There," she pointed as the slick, silvery back of the sea creature slipped back beneath the waves. "There go the ships: There is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein."

"'At sounds familiar", Mathieson said absently, almost hypnotized by the grace of the alien sea creature.

"Psalm 104:26," T'Ashaya explained.

The seas smooth as glass. The others aboard were now crowding to the rails, clambering for a chance to see the beast. Senator Aieme insinuated himself between the doctor and the biologist.

"They say it is a good sign to see one of the singers," he explained, slipping an arm casually behind the Vulcan woman, as if using the lifelines behind her for balance.

~Slick. Real slick. 'E's used that move before, 'at's fer sure~ the Englishman thought as he observed the Aieme's deft movements. "'Ere's hopin', summat good comes of it - we could all use some good luck right now." ~Some, more than others~ he observed. Although the Senator's haze never left the horizon, the expression that appeared on T'Ashaya's showed how much difficulty she had dealing with the situation.

He squinted as he looked towards the Romulan sun, hoping that the exercise veiled the smirk he was trying to hide. "Well, this sun's goin t' fry me noggin' fer sure - I'm off for a bit o' shade. Give me a dingle if ye see more o' the pod, T'Ashaya. Senator, again, thanks fer the trip - it's a nice change from rad treatments."

"To be certain. The scenery does have its enchantments." The senator crowded the Vulcan Biologist. "Don't you think so, T'Ashaya?"

His canvass hat placed securely once more on his bald pate, the Doctor made for a small bench towards the yacht's cabin with decidedly mixed emotions. On one hand, he wanted the obviously emotional Vulcan woman to experience a part of life she obviously deemed herself lacking in. On the other hand - he strongly wished that the individual attracted to her was anyone other than the Ronulan Senator. Aieme was too slick, and success in the Romulan Senate wasn't hinged on gentleness - far from it. Llaiir Aieme was a predator, and he was hunting, not courting.

The Vulcan Tsunami moved closer to the lifeline. "I find your proximity disconcerting, Senator."

"I am just trying to get a good look at the pod."

"The pod is more starboard now, Senator. There is no logical reason to crowd me toward port." Her voice sounded strained.

~I know I'll regret this, but...~ The human rummaged through his medikit and quickly found the hypospray capsule he was looking for. Rather than loading it into the hypospray, he broke the polyethylene seal and applied a few drops to his hands. He closed the capsule with woundseal epoxy and returned to the tip of the bow. Grinning, he raised his voice over the ocean breeze. "Gettin' a bit windy, isn't it Senator? I think the chop's gettin a bit more severe."

"Mayhap," the senator replied, his attention fully on the young Vulcan woman. "My dear, why isn't your bondmate with you? Certainly coming as he does from a diplomatic family, he would enjoy opportunities such as this. He does dabble in the family business, does he not?"

T'Ashaya did not reply. Instead, she signaled another navigation change. "Do you hear that? Their song has changed."

The senator seemed intent on pressing the young woman both with his physical proximity as well as with his words. "If you were mine, you need never travel alone again." He placed a hand at the small of her back.

The Vulcan woman reacted instantly to the touch. She threw the senator into the frigid waters while the onlookers gaped.

"The Preparations"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

==========================================

For'kel was in a skimmer, hover car, whatever you liked to call it... a staff vehicle offered by the Romulan Ground Forces (who seemed to have plenty of vehicles, if not the personnel to operate them) on his way to investigate yet another network of defenses being added to the Capitol's burgeoning capacities. One thing was certain, the Stagnorian contemplated as the car sped towards the inner sanctum of the Capitol... the Hydrans were going to need one 'hell' of a force to take this planet. Even a full bombardment of the surface would be risky, given the sheer firepower in automated systems being amassed. If they managed to take Romulus, Prophets knew they deserved it, figuratively speaking ofcourse.

He was finally given the opportunity to meet the apparent Commander of ground forces in the region... a big step for a Non-Romulan military officer. To pass the time, For'kel was dictating a log, figuring it might come in handy when it comes to the after action report.

"Battalion Deployment Log, Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion reporting.

We've only recently arrived in force, the enemy has yet to land, and already we've sustained casualties. Nineteen of my Mariness have been injured, as of my last update several were critically so, and although expected to recover are unlikely to be able to join the battle.

In addition, the Task Force has been deploying considerable reinforcements, making a quick escape all but impossible now given the size of our force. As a result, the plan of battle has also needed to change. A security detachment known as the 'Last Chancers Regiment' reported for assignment to a the western approach, just outside the first circle of fortification around the city. Apparently their Commanding Officer had assigned them with the express intention of giving them the most dangerous assignment. Can't say I think much of the officer that gave 'that' order... it's one thing to require of your troops putting themselves in harms way... it's quite another to specifically seek to cause them hell as this case seems to be. They have quite a reputation, for fighting almost fanatically... and to that end I've assigned the entirety of Delta Company to reinforce, and indeed monitor, their actions.

Our Combat Engineers have done an amazing job in a myriad of tasks. Working with our Romulan counterparts, they've surveyed the defense systems to insure their readiness, have wired the three major causeways into the city's core to be demolished if need be, and have contributed significantly to the Civil Affairs mission we, until about twenty minutes ago, were engaged in. Currently they're finishing wiring the suspected enemy landing zones and avenues of approach with mines in support of the new mission plan.

The new plan has required a redeployment of much of our forces which are currently in the city. With Delta supporting the Last Chancers, I've ordered Charlie to secure the northern pass as a blocking force, incase the Hydrans 'attempt' to encircle the city. Bravo remains defending the fire base and landing zone, while I've stayed with Alpha securing the western sector with sundry Romulan formations to the best of our abilities. The 188th has been tasked with securing the Eastern approach to allow for movement of the VIPs, which has begun, and to help the Romulans in that sector maintain the peace.

The rioting has been unbelievable. It remains quelled, for now... though I wonder if these people even realize what they're doing? Sure there is plenty of reason to be mad, but now is time to recognize the common enemy before them and unite. I guess stratification in this society runs far too deep for that.

The remaining forces, contributed from various ships of the task force, are being deployed to help facilitate relationships with our Romulan counterparts, and to occupy the most defensible positions around the city. By cutting access to the major transportation routes we've guaranteed they'll have to cross in waves... using their own hover-vehicles to ferry infantry over. Hopefully, this will make things far more managable, and give us enough of a force ratio boost to hold the city. We're arranging a mobile defense, which will offer us the opportunity to counter-strike if things go very 'very' well... and break down by squad for guerilla actions in the event they do. All units have been issued standing orders, and in the event it becomes obvious the city will fall, breaking into squads for small unit action is our fall back plan. Given our limited time remaining, I doubt evac will be possible... but the VIPs are being moved with Romulan assistance. Some are more stubborn than others... and I must say on a personal note I can respect that.

Less importantly, we've been receiving telemetry from the orbiting ships to help organize the defense, and surprisingly the SFFC is providing air-cover. My hope is they can obliterate as much of the landing force as possible, and our guns can knock out the craft that do touch down fast enough to gravely damage the invasion force. All artillery stations have been directed to fire line of sight, I don't want to risk downing our own pilots... though the Romulans have yet to issue the same order as far as I know.

I've entrusted a squad from every company with search and rescue missions in the event any of our fighters do get knocked down. They've been instructed to rescue the pilot, and destroy the fighter as thoroughly as possible. We don't need anything falling into Hydran hands... computer switch over to manual entry."

Now came out the stylus, the last thing he needed was to reveal to the Lieutenant next to him his true feelings... it would suck for morale.

'Admittedly, there's a knot in my stomach. Despite the recent progress, I can't shake the feeling that this is going to be the worst fighting we've seen since Vulcan. I can only hope our increased training regimens will lead us to a better outcome. I wonder if this is how Napoleon felt before his Russian campaign, or Waterloo, or how Custer felt during his last stand.'

"Computer, save entry and send."

“Why am I Even Bothered?”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan And Mika Sh'Sonora

Location: Civilian Quarters, USS Galaxy

~”Mika has some very odd quarters.”~ James found himself remarking, looking up to the ceiling as he lay on her bed.

After the downer of a day he had training, then later pissing off his new apprentice, James Corgan went back to Mika's quarters to pick her up for dinner. Being that it was, by Terran calendar standards, a saturday evening without a bridge stint or a school day in sight, the xeno-crossed couple thought it was an ideal opportunity to take in on one of the ship's many social scenes, then let the rest of the night take them to where it may.

Mika had other plans. It led her, a meek, tiny speck of woman from a proud warrior race known for not being either meek or speck-like, to take an action that was certainly on cue with the rest of her race and not her zen-meditated usual self. Without ever so much as a chance to utter a half hearted hello and a dejected 'my day was very rotten, thank you very much', Mika had him dragged to her bed and was hardly forced to make love until she was spent and exhausted.

James hardly had the spirit to protest, and enough common sense left in his brain to let it be.

Not to say that he didn't want to make love to the woman he deeply cared about. Quite the contrary; James was a dutiful lover and as if he was on duty in war time, was already ready for a red alert when it was about to happen. He never bragged about skill or even knew what standard in which to measure himself by, but if Mika was his indication, he was doing something right.

Today, it was still ok, but he still went back to his last mistake. Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir, his new assistant. How angry was she? How angry did James make her by his insensitive bumblings?

It wasn't as if Mika was oblivious to his far off thinkings. Contented herself by their activities, she was nestled at his side, her legs twined with him, her head lazily resting by the crook of his arm, a sleepy smile on her face as her antennae gave a sporadic flicker. When seeing James with his far distant stare, her face knit with concern. Out of love for him, and why was James' guess, she crawled closer to his chest, her body warm as a furnace in her ice laden homeworld.

“James?” She asked, the S in his name added with an upswung 'u', as she was in the habit of doing whenever she let the practiced, diplomatic clip of her educated accent parted and her tiny, cute Southern Andorian accent bled through. “You are bothered?”

James had to let out his sighs; there was no arguing with Mika. The main point of contention in their relationship was the keeping of secrets and feelings from each other. It was stipulation James found difficult to obligate, and avoiding it would only bring Mika's scorn. On most Earth women, it was the opposite that would damn him, but Mika wasn't bothered about him and other women, but the fact that he kept those interactions from her that raised her ire. It was a part of their relationship James still was getting used to.

“I pissed off my new assistant today.” James said, flat out.

Mika's antennae twitched. “T'lan?”

“Oh, no! No.” James defended. He knew Mika was fond of T'lan, and James too had a weakness for the Vulcan security deputy, “I wouldn't dare piss her off. Vulcans don't get pissed off. I think they gain a...” He dug deep into his resevoir of puns, “'Growing disapproval of negative actions taken by others onto a single Vulcan or group of peers'. I think that's how they would say it. But no, I wouldn't dream of pissing her off. Strength of four or five humans or three Andorians, emotions that make the both of us look like the paragons of control if let loose... I wouldn't dream to piss her off.”

She had a laugh at his humour, but grew serious after her mirth, “James, who is it, and what did you do?”

He sighed again. There really was no sidestepping the issue with Mika, try as he might. “Her name is Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir, and can you believe it... she tried to volunteer. Right there, in front of both me and T'lan. Just volunteered. I swear if T'lan wasn't a Vulcan, she would have tossed her out by her non pointed ears. But seeing her, so eager to make a good impression, so willing to help out... how was I supposed to say no? Tell her to f**k off? How do you say that to a eighteen year old on her first deep space assignment?”

“You do not.” Mika filled in the rhetorical question.

“That's right, babe. You don't. You just heap a crapload of paper work on her and hope she doesn't get sick of it. But don't worry! I won't overwork her like Ordos did to you. I promise if she still stays on my staff after all this, I'll be a fair if stern taskmaster.”

Mika patted her hand on his bare chest. “Good pinkskin.”

“First time you said that about me and not a certain part of my anatomy.” He jested in a light, airy tone, “But seriously, I pissed her off. I thought she was trying to make advances on me. “

Mika's brows and antennae perked up. Her hand patted his chest more firmly, too firmly. “And what, my dear, brought you to that conclusion?”

“Total batsh*t logic.” James admitted with a roll in his eyes, “She cornered me in the holodeck and we played some guitar. Totally harmless, or so I thought. It was weird though, she could play Rocket Queen like she wrote the score herself...”

“Excuse me Mugato loins, but... Rocket Queen?”

James explained, “An ancient song. Rock and roll. You call it 'noise'.”

“Ohhhh...” She dawned with understanding, “Noise! Now I remember. She played some noise...”

“Not just any noise, my dear. Good noise. Perfect noise. The kind of noise that takes years of practice and the mastering of not one instrument, but a specific subclass of instruments so narrowed down and so rare in training that there are no teachers in the known universe that can replicate that exact sound other than perhaps myself and my sister... I digress. She played not just an electric guitar, but MY electric guitar like she owned the damn thing. And trust me... she... is... good.”

Mika peaked with interest. “How good, my love?”

James begrudged, “Better than me.”

Mika tried to process and imagine, but couldn't bring it to mind. “I will have to believe what you said, though I hardly distinguish one frightening pinkskin noise from another.”

“Then I'll have to play some Santana for you.” James cooed. “But seriously, that was where it all went down hill.”

Serious as the grave, Mika listened. “Tell me.”

“Well.. you see...” James tried to put to words what went wrong, “I don't know how, but all the sudden she started asking me to go out to dinner with her. She asked before if she could talk to me in private or meet with me over something or another, but after we played guitar, she straight out asked me what it took for her to convince me to take her out for dinner.”

It was hard for James to gage exactly what Mika was feeling, but if it was his guess, it was an analytical process known as 'threat assessment'. James was now afraid; it was one of those times where his interactions with the female species would bring her disapproval, or his lack of tact would send her consternation his way. It was at a most precarious time.

Mika did shift her weight, her tiny frame squirming against his, but it was hardly disapproval. But what she did do was ask, “What did you do?”, a statement setting in stone his guilt and prejudging him to a sentence of god-knows-what.

“I told her she ought to slow down, maybe try to talk with the other security officers instead of trying to corner me. She ran off in a huff. It didn't occur to me that she might have been a fan of my music and that she was just trying to know about her hero. She might NOT have been trying to seduce me, but it was the first thing I thought she was doing. I guess in telling her not to do so, I offended her sensibilities and alienated someone who was actually looking up to me. I f**k up, and that's all I'm going to say.”

She breathed an all knowing sigh of relief, and said, “Oh... that is all?”

James blinked in surprise. “You want more?”

She said, “Hmmmmm... no.”

“Somehow that doesn't reassure me.”

“Nor should it. You were rude to a young girl, and young girls have the most fragile hearts, my dear James. You should know that more than anyone. Listen, if you must know, you did do something wrong but do not blame yourself too much. She is a young girl... woman now, and she must be as confused about her feelings for you as you are.”

James said, dripping with sarcasm, “You don't say.”

“Come now, dear James, just acknowledge it and try not to break her heart again. She will grow up, you will see. Just do me a favour.”

“Yes babe?”

“If you are to mate with her, gain my permission first.”

James cheeks blushed bright blue. He stuttered out a weak, impromptu protest. “I... would not... no way!”

Crawling into bed with James, she stroked that same blush red cheek. “Honey, you are too easy to tease. Seriously, try to know her before you judge her, and let me see her sometime. I want to know more about the women in your life.”

“Babe... YOU'RE the woman in my life.” He protested.

“I am sure I am, my love.” She dismissed and ignored his protest, “Please bring someone over. I am dying to meet these people and I do love how loyal T'lan has become.”

“But...”

“No buts. Bring them.”

No way out of Mika's determined stance, James agreed, “When the latest bullsh*t is over.”

“Good James.” Her eyes turned soft and doelike as she slipped in the sheets, climbing on top of him. “Now, can you try that specialty of yours that involves your tongue before I go to sleep tonight?”

Clutching Mika arm to arm, James rolled her over, with the Andorian feining to fight, but instead giggling as he teased disappearing under the sheets.

“Baby, it's not a specialty. It's an art.” He said with a lucky smile.

*********

He didn't know how long they went on afterwards, and he didn't care. Mika was happy, and the problem of what to do about Allison was behind him. Sonic showering the sweat off him, James stepped out of the bathroom to see Mika curled into bed, soundlessly asleep. Her antennae rhythmically waved as her breath ebbed and flowed, her face an expression of serenity in rest. He kissed her and brushed her snow white hair from her eyes. She barely stirred. James stealthily tip toed to the computer console.

The messages piled up since he last appeared. ~”So war is really coming...”~ James thought to himself, the rapidity of his expanding mailbox and the headers to his messages evidence of oncoming chaos. Intel reports, troop readiness levels, planning and more planning. He went through and read them all quickly, each report feeding into his ever growing sense of dread.

The last letter on his mailbox came from an unlikely source. On the header was the address, one USS Thunderchild of the Federation Task Force in the Romulan sector. ~”My old ship... what would they want with me?”~ James Corgan asked. It had been years since he was onboard the Thunderchild, not since the last part of the war, and that was while he was an Ensign. Thousands of Ensigns must have gone through the Thunderchild's roster since then. What made him so special as to be remembered?

Then he saw who the letter came from.

Captain Jerry Pearson Albrecht.

Then the contents of James stomach turned ice cold.

Captain Albrecht was the captain of the USS Thunderchild, since before the Dominion War, during the Dominion War, and evidently well after it. JP Albrecht was well known as a bastard, a dirty fighter, a man that didn't fear war and gloried in it when possible.

JP Albrecht was a hawk.

Lives and consequences meant nothing to this man when victory was all he needed. He was the first to come up with the idea of putting all the disgraced and barely qualified officers together into one shock trooper corp, a program that brought the best out of anyone and made anyone else dead. It known throughout the Federation as 'The Last Chancers', and it killed many officers that were considered too much of a liability to throw into any decent, professional armies. It killed people in a cold and impersonal, bureaucratic way, using men and women as cannon fodder for the worst contested battle of the war.

JP Albrecht was the only captain that had the coldheartedness to order people to their deaths in such quantity and still ask for more.

James was lucky to be alive while under Captain Albrecht's command.

And this same Captain wanted to speak to him personally.

“Holy... sh*t.” James hands shook as he opened the letter, fearing what was to come next.

He read the letter, and his fears were right.

=/\=To Commander James Lionel Corgan

It is good to see that a veteran of the wars, much less a veteran of my ship's security detachment, succeed so well in Starfleet. As you know, there are not many of the original Last Chancers regiment, and those few have hardly gone as far as you have. For that I would like to congratulate you, and hope that the lessons learned from your experiences have helped you become a great leader.

Speaking of leadership development, I have been told by friends in Starfleet Command that you are beginning your command officer's training, and may I say that it is about time! You sir deserve this promotion and I would like to help you get started.

Come to the Thunderchild and see what has happened here since you've been gone. Come and talk to me, and I will personally give you credit for your training. I would like to pass down my knowledge to you in hopes that there is at least someone other than me that understands what war is really like, and how important the sacrifices of our fighting men and women are to us and how important it is that we are willing to make these sacrifices. This next generation needs leaders like us, and so I want to give you some advice.

Come see the ship. See what the 88th regiment of the USS Thunderchild is like. Come see me and tell me how you did after the war. It is not often I get the privilege, so don't deny me this.

I will see you soon, Commander.

Captain JP Albrecht, USS Thunderchild.=/\=

James was left speechless, his anger a cold and silent grave as many of his friends under Albrecht's command. Calmly as he could, he shut off the computer, and looked back at his love, and twinge of sorrow on his face to feel and see what she was to see in the coming days.

He was going to the Thunderchild.

And it was not for extra credit, nor to reminisce.

~”Your delusional letter already made up my mind.”~ James Corgan thought, and made permanent.

"Tart on a mission"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG

Crewman Recruit Allison

Leaning back slightly at her desk, she glanced at the approval she received to pull some double duty within the security department. Due to the recent events concerning the Hydrans, and the fact that Faylin spent four years at the academy in the security major, her experience with security procedures was well noted. To know the law, one must know all aspects and angles of it. From shooting a phaser rifle, to judging on what is appropriate within the realm of Starfleet, if it dealt with justice, McAlister knew about it.

To a certain JAG officer, off duty meant out of uniform and into something more comfortable that left not much to the imagination. A maroon silk camisole top led to a short black denim type skirt with the stiletto maroon ribbon shoes complementing the outfit. She had heard that Corgan was a male, and that meant one thing. Man meat. Her hair cascaded down her back, and with a simple flick of her neck, the tresses rearranged themselves almost as if ordered to do so.

Upon arriving at security, her eyebrow instantly shot into a Vulcan position as she viewed the security officer. "I have an appointment with Corgan."

Unfortunately for the aforementioned JAG officer, the person on duty was none other than Allison Jimsdottir, who locked Faylin with a disapproving stare.

"Uh.....like I dont think so."

Call her suspicious, but the thought of a lady dressed like a streetwalker going in to have a private meeting with HER James Corgan was just not going to fly with Alli.

"Yes, I do think so..... If you check your little data padd there....yep, that one. You will see that I have an appointment already booked with the Chief."

While Faylin was talking, Alli was running her eyes up the officer's rather skimpy outfit.......Stiletto heels.......Miniskirt......Silk top. There wasn't too many ways to interpret that. ~~~Besides.....that top SO does not go with her hair color...HEL-lo~~~

"Understand?" Faylin's right foot tapped with the rhythm of her frustration.

"Riiiiiiiight......."Alli drawled. "Ummmm....okay well let me just get a few administrative chores out of the way first." Reaching under her desk Alli pulled out a sizable stack of carbon paper forms and dropped them in front of Faylin with a 'thump'

"Lets just get the transfer paperwork out of the way and I'll see about getting you blown out an airlock......er..... in to see the Boss." Smiling over the top of the pile of paper, Alli asked innocently, "Do you need to borrow a pen?"

"No, I don't need to borrow a pen. The 'paperwork' has all been electronically transferred from my office to Corgan's desk. So, we don't need to bother with these little details." McAlister stated, dog earring a corner of the top sheet.

"Why is it actual paper?" Alli frowned.....shed been doing a lot of frowning ever since the hussy walked into the office....."Hello......redundancy.......electronic records are vulnerable to attack....EMP pulses and all that ....duh lady."

"Like I said, it's all completed and sits on his desk in electronic format. As far as 'viruses' are concerned, I'm sure you are well aware that this ship has a very excellent engineering department that is more than fluent in any type of computer bug that we might encounter. Now, let's see if you can do your job, and inform the Chief of my arrival." The false smile cemented on her face as her eyes shot the little tart a look that could kill on the spot. "Please inform your boss that Ensign Faylin McAlister, judge, advocate, general has arrived." The emphasis she placed on the three title words were not lost on the girl that sat behind the desk. Her toe tapped faster.

Allison stopped and peered over the desk at the little tapping toe. Raising an eyebrow. Annoying.

Point in fact she had not the slightest clue what a Judge Advocate General was, but it was apparent they thought highly of themselves and were a bit on the unfriendly side.

"You're here for a job interview.....and you decided to wear a mini and stilettos.......... Why?"

"I'm not here for a job interview, I already have the job. I have an appointment with the Chief. And, unless you are the department's investigator, my exact reason for the appointment is NONE of your business. Now, this is the last time I'm going to ask you nicely to tell Corgan I am here or......I will have you transferred to my office so you can be my secretary. Which....would be not in your best interest, believe me." Arching an eyebrow in a menacing manner, she sighed, letting the frustration show in her eyes. She had to give the girl some credit, she acted like a bulldog guarding a gate....and she resembled one too.

Allison ignored the threats. You didn't grow up with her mother without learning a bit about intimidation...."No I meant why did you go for that particular look?

"Okay, if I would go an change into the "standard uniform", would that be better? Or, if you wish, I could just strip naked right now." Leaning over, she started to unlace the ribbons that hugged her ankles.

Watching the expression, Faylin nodded.

"Great." She stated with a pageant smile. "I'll be right back...." Leaning forward, she smiled. "Prepare for me.........." Turning, her bouncy self left the room. In short order, Faylin returned much to the imagined chagrin of Allison. "Okay, I'm back, and let me in."

"Finally"

Commander James Lionel Corgan

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG

"Commander Corgan's Log, Supplemental."

Security office has turned into bedlam since the Hydran started beating the hell out of the Romulan Empire, and every officer was feeling the strain of an upcoming war... including Commander James Lionel Corgan. He had a department to run, which was no fun when it was trying to get to wartime strength and alertness.

To confound matters worse, he had another new recruit.

Was not the last one enough to bring chaos in his orderly department?

"Come in." James said in his iconic, near permanent shuffle of PADDS and isolinear chips.

She stepped into his office, finally after almost having to knock the poor woman out after returning in a uniform. Instead of fighting the bulldog, she had gone and changed into what Allison deemed, "proper attire". However, what the little puppy failed to notice is that even a Starfleet uniform could not hide the curves God blessed Faylin with.

"Hello? Cmdr. Corgan?"

James greeting the new arrival with less trepidation than he really felt, "Come in Ensign! Take a seat."

He seat was in front of the cherry oak desk in the centre of a smallish cubicle in the far corner of security central. Less than humble in its decoration than the shipbuilder's original intent, James had rock and roll posters up on the wall, a propped shinai and kendo practice armour on the corner, and a piece of Andorian calligraphy posted on the back wall over his head. He held a distracted air as he went through paper work, a rather 'seen it' look that half acknowledged/ignored her body. Rather odd considering his reputation for being a skirt chaser, one he tried to stamp down with an iron boot.

Faylin grinned, the hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "I do hope you received my transfer paperwork?"

His hand snatched a PADD from the middle of a pile, twirled it in his two fingers, and showed the front to Faylin. Her name and profile, as signed on Security Transfer Form #3, was ever present. "I did, ensign, and I must say you signed it out well. Our new secretary is a stickler for accuracy and the other one is a Vulcan. To get past them both takes skill."

"Ah, good then. As you can see, I'm already certified with all level phasers and phaser rifles. Is there any particular area that you wish me to be in?"

"Well..." He rolled the word in his tongue, "Normally I would keep having you do what you're doing now. We could always use JAG officers, and i'm mostly a soldier by trade. We always need officers that have a better understanding of law and policing duties, and we don't have a security officer that has much more than a basic understanding of criminal investigation. So congratulations... you're our police officer.... or so I would say if we weren't about to go to war."

"Eh, war is part of life." Faylin stated with a simple air.

The stylus in his hand clacked on the next PADD he worked on. His hand sweeped and looped until he had a crude signature next to it. He hummed, "I'll assign you to a security squad for the time being. It will be basic stuff. Patrolling the ship or going planetside for ground operations. After this mess is over, we can get you back to your proper assignment. How does that sound?"

"That's fine. What ever I can do around here to assist the ship." Her answers were curt, and to the point. Idle chit chat was for that bubble gum popping twit at the desk.

"Good to hear." James Corgan nodded his head approvingly. "You'll be with Epsilon Squad. Lieutenant Marsh will take good care of you. He has combat experience from the Dominion War. Take advantage of that experience. Listen to him. Understood, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." Nodded James, but then asked out of curiosity, "I have to ask though... why are you here on this ship? I see your qualifications, and well... I'm confused. You could have taken a cushier job and away from all this danger but you picked here. Why?"

"I'm a true glutten for punishment." Faylin let a hint of a smile cross her mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I wanted to start over.....see some action....and, that's what I got. In more ways than one." On her short time on the ship, she had gained more experience than she initially wanted to. However, that was the choice Faylin made as she requested this assignment. "I don't need to bore you with the details, it appears you have your hands more than full."

"Aye. That I have, Ensign. More than I care to admit." He rose from his seat, shaking the ensign's hand, "Welcome to security. I like to think that we don't just have a department here, but a community here. You'll find that starships are like colonies or small towns. People band together, stay close, and are very loyal to each other. I hope you will find that a perfect fit for you."

"Time will tell Sir. Time will tell." Offering a soft smile before she left, Faylin McAlister turned, accepting her new duties as one of the Galaxy's newest security officers.

Pausing just outside his office door, Faylin yanked her ponytail holder from her hair, flipping it and giving it a good tassel. Smearing her lipstick just a tad, she emerged to the front desk, pretending to wipe sweat off of her forehead. Looking at Allison with utter exhaustion, she breathed heavily.

"Gods! That was the best minute of my life! That man really knows how to work his stylus!"

"Revelations"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG

Location: Main Security

With the transfer complete, and assignment given, Faylin sat at one of the round tables, letting her mind wrap around the initial intelligence message passed to her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, it did not make sense really. "Painless death?" There are several ways a person could die a painless death….injection of some toxin being the first that weaved itself into her mind. Sighing, her eyebrows instantly furrowed. Was Olivia's death truly an accident….or was there something more just below the surface?

Standing, she thought it best to view the autopsy report on her daughter. Faylin had a working knowledge of medical terms due to her history, however, complex terms still eluded her. She recalled having a medical dictionary in her quarters…..good for something at least.

Location: Sick bay

The pristine environment of sick bay left nothing for her nerves that comforted her in the least. The sterile smell left her reeling, as she realized what she was about to view. The autopsy information of her daughter. Her duty face was present, pushing down the emotion turmoil that was bubbling up within her. Stepping to the back, she met with the Galaxy's coroner/doctor. Doctor Kim. Nodding, Faylin kept her face stoic as she approached. They both knew what she was there for.

"Ensign."

"Doctor."

He handed her the stylus as she took it gently.

"What' is your finding?"

"Initially, we thought that Ms. Olivia McAlister was crushed. However, upon running a toxic screen, we discovered that she was poisoned to death."

"Excuse me?"

"Toxin buildup in her system Ensign. Plain and simple. The lab results showed traces of a hybrid mixture mostly containing……ricin. It's a substance that can be made easily enough from left over castor beans of all things."

"I don't feel well….can I sit….down?"

"Yes…immediately Ensign." He walked over to her, stabilizing her with an injection.

Faylin's light head immediately left her, yet her heart was reached.

"Ricin? Continue please."

He cleared his throat. "Two hundred and fifty micrograms was what she was injected with. Five hundred kills an average adult….so you can imagine what……."

McAlister waved him off. "Yes, yes."

"The injection site was in the crux of the left arm of the child. Initially, due to the damage of the skin due to the 'accidental' crushing, we did not see the injection site, nor would have paid anymore attention to it….until….security notified us of an investigation."

"So, we have a murder?"

"Yes, ensign. Your daughter was indeed murdered. All other information is contained within that report. But….ensign?" He looked up, noticing that the young woman had exited with a fury.

Location: Main Security

Sitting again at the familiar table, her eyes scanned the autopsy report.

AUTOPSY REPORT ________________________________________ IDENTIFICATION NO.: 8934-24 AUTOPSY NO.: A91-21 USS GALAXY NAME: McAlister, Olivia Monet SERVICE NO.: 013 WARD NO.: 4 AGE: 02.5 SEX: Female RACE: Terran Date and hour of death: - 7:25 am Autopsy performed: 12:30 pm Check one: Full autopsy [x] Head only [ ] Trunk only [ ] Prosector: Doctor Kim Assistant Doctor Marior ________________________________________ CLINICAL HISTORY

SUMMARY: This two and ten month old girl was admitted into the USS Galaxy ward upon confirmation of her death by Doctor Kim at 15:00 hours. Her heart rate had ceased as well as other basic bodily functions. Evidence of cervicomedullary disruption present as well as varying degrees of soft tissue injury to the face and scalp, trunk, and extremities with Glasgow Coma Scale scored range 15. Computed tomograms and magnetic resonance images showed multiple and often extensive comminuted calvarial fractures, as well as subarachnoid and parenchymal hemorrhages. Patient had basilar cranial fractures.

MANNER OF DEATH: HOMICIDE.

CAUSE OF DEATH: Poison (HEAD, NECK, TRUNK, UPPER EXTREMITIES).

FINDINGS:

1. Generalized pallor and evidence of fractual bruising.. 2. Multiple stab bruising of head, neck, trunk and upper Extremities. 3. Left lower lateral chest-wall abrasions and contusions with overlying rib fractures of left ribs #6, #7 and #8. 4. Subarachnoid hemorrhage of right cerebrum underlying one of the large, undermined right scalp incised wounds. 5. A few other minor blunt-force injuries of head and trunk. 6. Moderate emphysematous changes of lungs.

LABORATORY RESULTS:

TOXICOLOGY:

1. Blood:

a. Ethanol: 0.16 gm%. b. Drugs: Ricin hybrid of unknown origin. Two hundred fifty micromilligrams.

2. Urine:

Negative with negative EMIT barbiturates screen.

3. Ocular fluid:

Ethanol, 0.16 gm%.

INTRODUCTION

AUTHORIZATION: The medico legal examination of the body of Olivia Monet McAlister , M.D., Chief Medical Examiner, Doctor Kim, USS GALAXY, at sick bay at 8:00 a.m., pursuant to the "Post Mortem Examination Act" for the determination of cause and manner of death.

GENERAL APPEARANCE: The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished, Child Terran Girl. Body height is 25 inches, and body weight is 24 lb. At autopsy, rigor mortis is generalized to late; livor mortis is posterior and slightly blanching; the body is cool to touch. Artifacts of decomposition are absent, and evidence of medical and postmortem care is absent. There is obvious evidence of multiple blunt-force injury.

IDENTIFICATION: The identity of decedent was established by circumstances of death and discovery of the body.

ROUTINE EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

CLOTHING AND VALUABLES: The body is admitted to the morgue dressed and within a sheet and shroud, and then within a body bag, and with the hands bagged.

Clothing is very bloody and has injuries matching those at the trunk (see below). In addition, prior to removal of clothing, the body was examined concurrently by me and by the crime scene technician from the USS GALAXY SECURITY Department, and trace evidence was collected from the body and clothing.

"TRACE EVIDENCE" section at end of report. The clothing consists of a pink- and-white shirt, a pair of blue jeans with embroidered flowers, a brown belt, a pair of white bobby socks and a pair of patent leather Mary Jane shoes. Valuables on or with the body included a rope knot necklace. The valuables are released to the mother of the decedent while the clothing is retained for the law enforcement department.

Please also see "ARTIFACTS" and "INJURIES" sections below.

HEAD AND NECK: The head is normally shaped. Scalp hair is long, brown and curlyt. The head, face, neck and upper shoulders show suffusion. The irides are green; the pupils are equal and round; the sclerae are white; the conjunctivae have no petechiae and the periorbital areas have no ecchymosis. A slight amount of bloody mucus is present inn the nasal and oral cavities. The teeth are natural, and oral hygiene is good. Intraoral petechiae are not present. The neck has no deformities and has the usual range of motion without crepitus.

Placing the Padd down on the desk, McAlister lowered her head and rested it beside the Padd. It was all too much information to comprehend. One thing clicked, forcing her head up abruptly. The initial intelligence report had come from Intel. She put two and two together, slammed the chair back, and went on the hunt for one Lt. Saul Bental.

"Intell's Answers and Security's Protections"

Lt. Saul Bental Chief of Intell

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security

Her eyes narrowed as she viewed the curly hair of her opposition. The snarl, as sinister as it was, contained no fury that her hand that rested on her newly acquired phaser could not squelch. Just one shot and it would be over with. All over with, her life, his life, the questions regarding Olivia's death....all answered, done, and completed. The one and only thing that stopped Faylin McAlister from raising her phaser and shooting him was her sense of duty. What goes around, comes around. In Saul Bental's case, his coming around was about to occur.

It all made perfect sense. The autopsy, that revealed that her daughter was indeed murdered by injection rather than heavy furniture, the message she had been told to investigate....everything connected. It was her deepest desire to hit him, yet, she knew the consequences for such an action. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she spun him around, keeping her steeled brown eyes upon his. "Bastard! You knew about this and did nothing!"

Saul turned around slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he did not sleep. And indeed, he didn't. Slihot took all night, and intelligence all day.

"Fay-fay." He yawned, unimpressed. His eyes landed on her phaser. "Knew what?"

"The intellegence report concerning the intercepted message about the 'non-painless death?"

She continued. "I know you really don't care. But, just to inform you....that non-painless death that the message was referring to was Olivia's Saul."

"What?" Saul's mind quickly made the connection. "How did you get that report?"

"I'd love to say that I'm as resourcefull as Intell, however, I'm not. I transfered from JAG to security while tensions are high. They could use the extra help."

"I see. Faylin--" Saul spoke quietly. "Olivia... you know how she died. It was not painless."

"I just recieved a copy of the autopsy report.....Olivia was injected with a ricin hybrid....in the crux of her arm. Hence....painless death! Tell me why you didn't think this important enough to look into it yourself instead of passing it to security? It states.....you recieved this two days before it happened Saul. Why didn't you put a rush on it....? Do you realize YOU could have saved her?"

Saul didn't flinch. "It's security's job to deal with these cases, and I passed it to them without delay. We didn't even know the trasmission was directed to the Galaxy. If you want to blame anyone, blame the babysitter."

"It's part of Intell's job' to have an answer for everything, isn't it?" Faylin spat.

"And it's security's job to keep everyone on board safe." Saul retorted.

"Can you at least tell me when you intercepted this transmition? The exact time?"

"It was..." Saul tried to conjure the exact time Kwntz spoke with him from the depths of memory. After a few long seconds, he told her.

"Great." Faylin stated with a smirk. "Well, next time I need Intell's help, I'll know who not to contact."

Saul rolled his eyes. He realized Faylin needed to vent, but he was becoming impatient with her using him as a mental boxing bag.

"Do you have any idea who injected her?", He asked. Having a child murderer on board was the last thing the Galaxy needed right now.

"I have an idea." She stated grimly. "I'm not privvy as to reveal that information at this point in time. Somethings are best left dealt with in a personal way." The hint of anger and a plan flashed in her once firtaious eyes.

"Assuming he or she is on the ship, it should be Corgan's top priority. This is a contained environment, and the murderer won't get away. And... they damaged you enough already, Fay. Don't let them ruin your career too."

"Thanks, I'll take that advice into consideration."

"Why would anyone murder a child just like that?", Saul suddenly asked.

McAlister said nothing, she considered it a rhetorical question. Inwardly, she knew the answer, but at this time, she did not want to let Saul in on it. "I think you have enough on your plate.....you really don't need any thing else to concentrate on."

"My plate is bigger than you think. Try me."

She thought about it seriously for a moment. The stench of the past blew over her, almost making her faint in front of Saul. All the details, the intricate details, assaulted her. Her mind fell a wash to everything that had happened over the years. "I....perhaps some other time....I have to go."

"I see. I won't stall you. Whenever you want, I'm here."

"Yeah, I know." The sign that she expelled did nothing to comfort her as she turned to go. Could she really trust him with any sensitive information? At this time, she thought no.

"Log Entries"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
Ensign Janeen Jaxom

==Bridge==

"First officer's log, supplemental. War? What is it good for? The answer is as old as the question. Here we are about to defend, or at least try to, one of our former sworn enemies. When I first joined Starfleet, if someone would have came up and said 'in so many years you'll be defending the Romulans against the Hydrans' I would have said 'Yeah, right. You're high.'"

"Yet here we are today ready to do just that. Will we live through it? Right now it looks as if we're facing an overwhelming force. The Hydrans have a 'secret weapon'. Can we overcome it? Either we will or we'll die trying. Nothing is certain at this point."

"Admittedly, the only thing that comforts me now is the fact that I've seen this ship and this crew overcome worse odds. I'm charged up and ready for action but at the same time I'm not all that crazy about dying. I haven't felt like this since the Dominion War."

"An old Terran military general once said, 'the idea is not to die for your country but to make your enemies die for theirs.'"

"Well, we're damn sure gonna try."

==Ops Center, Deck 13==

Janeen was busily helping putting the last of the damage control teams together and getting them their assignments. Her thoughts were racing faster than her body as she started giving out orders to other subordinates in the ops center.

'This is it,' the young Trill thought to herself. 'Jaal and I sent letters home yesterday. He said it was a good idea to do that frequently 'just in case'. He says Mom and Dad are used to them. I hope he's right. I know they aren't entirely happy about us being on the same ship but there's nothing that can be done about that now.'

'For the first time since coming aboard I'm not being shoved into the civilian safe areas during a crisis. I wish I could talk to Chris right now but he's busy in the CIC getting things ready. I hope we both live through this.'

~Unification?~

Lt. Jg. Thyago Leandro Domenico Carneiro

He awoke with a yawn and found himself sitting upright in a fairly uncomfortable wooden chair. He tried to reach up to rub his eyes, but discovered his hands had been bound together at the wrists and fastened with a leash to bottom of the chair seat. He could only get them to within a foot away from his eyes.

"He's awake," some one said, having noticed his moving around. It was a female voice, and he looked up to see he was in a room with two Romulan women. The room was dull and unattractive, with plain, undecorated white walls, a wooden table and his chair. The women, on the other hand, were very attractive. One had a vee-shaped ridge above her eyes, a characteristic of only Romulans. She had long black hair that was swept back behind her pointed ears and an angry, yet eager sneer on her face. The other had a smooth forehead, and the more common short hair cut. She could have passed for a Vulcan, especially since she stood tall and stoic, very statuesque. She was wearing a long sleeve gray shirt, stretched tight across her frame, and he let his eyes quickly trace along the features of her body.

"Hey, sexy," he smiled, not taking the situation seriously.

The Romulan with the long hair glanced at him. "It's about time," she said, "He's been out for six hours."

She walked around the table to his side and, towering over him, demanded, "Why are you here?"

"You drugged me," he said in response to her first accusation, but realized that it sufficed as an answer to the question.

"You should have only been unconscious for an hour," the Vulcanesque woman sighed from across the room.

"Oh. Well, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately, I've been having this pain in my shoulder," he explained, sheepishly, but then he changed his tone to try and sound more angry, "Besides, you drugged me."

"You were not drugged. I applied a controlled amount of pressure to the baroreceptor in your carotid artery, which made your body think your blood pressure was too high, and caused your arteries to constrict, lowering the amount of blood reaching your brain to the point of blackout," she calmly explained.

The long haired woman standing next to him leaned closer and asked again, growing impatient, "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"You nerve pinched me?!" he exclaimed, ignoring the question. Instinctively, he moved his head around, feeling the muscles in his neck, searching for any damage the pinch may have caused. "Caraca," he said excitedly, "My shoulder pain is gone! Hey, Sexy, you know, I got some other things you can pinch."

She closed her eyes and sighed in repressed frustration. The long haired Romulan's frustration was more obvious. She grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head backwards, "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"Oww! I don't know where I am! You drugged me."

"We didn't drug you," the short haired woman repeated.

"You nerve pinched me! Sorry."

"I will not ask again. Who are you?"

He looked over at the Romulan woman. She was so attractive when she was angry. Of course, he had only seen her angry. "I'm Thyago," he said, "And you are?"

"Our names are not important," she said, rising up, "What were you doing trespassing on off-limits areas in a Romulan city?"

"I didn't know I was tres-- I was assigned to fix a sewer line under fifty-somethingth street," he explained, his smile fading. The closer woman looked back at her partner, who met her gaze. "Wait, are you two Tall Shi'ites or something? Did I stumble into your secret base?"

"Tal Shiar," the Vulcanesque woman corrected, shifting her gaze back to Thyago. "And no."

"Why were you tampering with the sewer network?" the angrier one asked.

"I just told you, I was on the job," he explained.

But, she apparently didn't like that answer, and she displayed her dissatisfication by swinging out her arm, slapping him across the face. "Do not lie to me. Why would a Starfleet officer be assigned to city maintenance on Romulus?" she demanded.

"I don't know, ask your city coucil. I was down here with Maiek and we were fix--" he said quickly on the edge of panic, then stopped. He looked up at the two women once more and let his eyes roam their tight bodies. He smiled, "Did Maiek put you two up to this? That cad, pretending he didn't know what a 'red-light district' was. I must admit, you two are far nicer than what I would have expected. I wonder how much I owe him."

His interrogator ignored his rambling and crossed in front of him, grabbed his collar, and pulled his face inches away from her own. "You are a spy."

He yelped as she jerked his head forward, but then smiled. "Kinky. Okay. I can play a little rough," he said, the changing his tone to one slightly more seductive, said, "You caught me, I'm ready for my punishment."

He leaned in to kiss her, and she jerked away in disgust. She stood and returned to her partner on the otherside of the room. "He's clearly an idiot," she spat.

"I do not think he's a spy," the Vulcanesque woman said, "He is clearly in Starfleet, from one of the ships in orbit."

"That doesn't mean he's not an idiot," the other said, and the first frowned. They both paused in contemplation, looking back at their captive, who was kissing at the air and winking.

"I do not think it would be wise to let him return to the surface at this time. It would not be safe," the short-haired woman said matter-of-fact.

"What should we do with him?" the other asked.

"You can do anything you want with me," Thyago said, calling out. "Dirty, babe, you see these shackles? Baby, I'm your slave. I'll let you whip me if I misbehave."

When they both stared at him as if he were insane, he shrugged, "It's just that no one makes me feel this way."

The Vulcanesque woman sighed and shook her head, "Take him to Dakorus."

The other nodded and quickly moved over to Thyago, grabbing him by the back of his jacket and jerking him to his feet. As she led him through a door in the side of the room, he turned and protested, calling out at the short haired woman, "No, wait! I want my Sexy back." But, with one more tug, he was out of sight, and the Vulcan clenched her jaw in indignation, only allowing herself to vent her anger in yet one more heavy sigh.

=====================================

He was taken through a nondescript hallway and shoved into a lift at the end of it. The Romulan woman forced him to face the back wall, so he wouldn't be able to see any floor numbers, but he could still feel movement and was aware of the length of time that had passed. It felt like they were going up quite a ways. When the arrived, he was pushed out into a fairly well decorated lobby, and he wondered if he was in one of the office buildings in the neighborhood of the sewer he fixed. There were large windows that extended from the floor to the ceiling, and it was dark outside; a few lights from the building across the street were on, but he couldn't see anyone inside them.

The long haired woman took him to an office at the back of the lobby, a grand, spacious room with lush carpeting, clean walls and potted plants. It was dark because the lights were off, but there was enough illumination spilling in from the street below to see well. "Is this the spy?" a fairly rotund, yet important looking Romulan said from behind a desk as big a bed.

"I'm not a spy," Thyago reiterated, having become more serious in the last several moments as the importance of his situation slowly sank in. He was no longer goofing off, but he had yet to become scared. Instead, he responded with a tone of mild annoyance, as if being held prisoner was no different than being held up in a traffic delay.

"He's not," the woman said, "He's too stupid to be a spy."

"Yeah, I--" he started, then slowly glared over at his female guard, "Hey! Okay. Enough with the idiot stuff. I'm sorry I thought you were a prostitute. It's not my fault you dress like one."

She glared at him, and someone behind him let out a small hushed chuckle. Thyago turned and saw that it was Maiek, standing in the shadows at the edge of the room. "Mikey!" he smiled, "Did they capture you, too?"

Maiek's subtle smile faded and his characteristic nervousness returned. He didn't answer the question, merely shifted his weight on his feet and look towards the man behind the desk.

"No," Dakorus said, "Maiek works with us. He helps ferry us information from supporters that can't be seen meeting with us."

"Dakorus," the woman started, "Are you sure we should be telling him this? What if he reports us?"

"I do not think we have to worry about that, Juna," he said, smiling politely and confidently. "He's with Starfleet, he would have no reason to report us to the Romulan authorities, and in fact, may get in trouble with his superiors if he does. If we don't explain ourselves to him, his curiousity would most likely cause us more trouble. Isn't that right, Mr....?"

"Oh, uh, you can call me Thyago," he said. He wouldn't have reported them to the Romulans, most likely, because he wouldn't have known who to report them to, or how. He didn't know who they were. Of course, he wasn't really that curious, either. "And, sure," he said finally, agreeing with the man.

"I'm afraid all this trouble is an unfortunate accident, Mr. Thyago," Dakorus apologized. "You see, we will occasionally cause a break down in the city's utilities to provide Maiek an excuse to come to neutral meeting location under unsuspicious terms."

"I pick up reports from that tea shop and take them to the base underground," Maiek explained, and Thyago nodded pretending the information answered some plaguing question that had been bothering him.

"You were unexpectedly partnered with him today, and when he left you to complete his duty to us, you got curious and explored where you shouldn't have."

"Sorry," Thyago shrugged. After a pause, he asked, "So, um, who are you people again?"

Dakorus raised his eyebrows in a look of mild shock. "We're Unificationists," he said, surprised Thyago was still unaware of this.

"I don't know what that is."

"We are a group who feel it is in the best interest of Romulus and her people to close the chasm and reestablish ties with with our Vulcan cousins," he explained, citing a seemingly well rehearsed speech, but in a way that suggested he hadn't done so in a while. "We are--"

"Romulans and Vulcans are related to one another?" Thyago asked incredulously, and the three Romulans stared at him as if he were daft.

"I told you he was an idiot," the woman, Juna, said, and Thyago frowned at her again.

"My 'Peoples of the Galaxy' class was at 7am," he explained, "It was difficult for me to wake up on time. I'm sorry."

"Yes, we Romulans split away from our Vulcan brothers nearly two thousand years--" Dakorus began, but he was interrupted by a loud bang and crash and the tinkling of tumbling glass. Everyone in the room ducked instinctively as the large full wall window shattered, but it was really only Dakorus that was hit by the falling shards. Maiek ran over to help him, but Dakorus was fine. The glass had only caused a few small gashes on the side of his face, his green blood welled up in little drops at the edges of the cuts. Thyago looked down at his feet and found a large brick lying on the floor.

"It appears the protests have gotten a little out of hand," Dakorus said, stepping towards the room's edge and looking out the open window. Thyago and Juna both walked over and peered out themselves, and Thyago could see that the street, three stories below, was full of people marching and yelling at the top of their lungs. There were Romulan police or military officers, decked out in riot gear, trying to control the crowd, but the sheer overpowering numbers made their fight impossible. And in the pockets of confusion, members of the riot would bust nearby shop windows and perform a bit of looting.

Thyago and the three Romulans jumped again when gunfire echoed from down the street, the bright flashes of phaser and disrupter fire reflected in the glassy office buildings accompanied by the electric sizzle and it sliced through the air. Members of the riot below fell as they were hit, while others fired back with unseen weapons of their own.

"It is no longer safe here," Maiek said, stating the obvious. "We should retreat to the catacombs."

Dakorus nodded in agreement, and then looked over to Juna, conveying an order through look alone. She nodded once quickly, and pulled a large knife from her belt and in one move cut the ropes that still bound Thyago's hands. "You're free to go if you wish, Mr. Thyago, but I would suggest that its safer to stay with us for the time being."

"Yeah," he said, still looking out the window at the riot below, but as the three Romulans quickly moved towards the door, he pulled himself away from the spectacle and followed them.

"Battle stations"

Commander Na'sav Lorem Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Iannella Naimi Chief Tactical Officer USS Vigilant
=========================================

Na'sav had walked into his Ready Room, or rather the closet jokingly referred to as a Ready Room, right after the meeting with the other task force commanders had let out... why'd he feel like he was back at school?

In either case, drumming his fingers against the stub of a desk he had, Na'sav spent a moment going over the plan. it was a good plan, and undoubtedly would work brilliantly if all went well.

Na'sav was never a big believer in assuming things would go well.

To that end, he tapped his combadge, deciding that, well, in addition to tactical input, he could use someone to simply talk to. "Lieutenant Naimi, report to the Ready Room please." Iannella had been reviewing the lastest drill numbers. The crew was ready - or at least, ready to run a drill when they knew there weren't about to lose their lives for a mistake. Drills were just drills afterall. Even so, she couldn't help but feel a swell of satisfaction at how well everyone had done. The chirping of her comm badge drew her attention. Curious more than anything else, she answered: "On my way."

On a ship this small, she was at the ready room door by the time she'd finished speaking and didn't bother with the chime. "What's up?" True to form, Iannella easily forgot the rules of formal address. And true to form, Na'sav didn't much care about the lack of formalities, nodding to the seat adjacent to the stub... desk... whatever. "Just got off the comms with the task force CO's not too long ago... 15 Captains and yours truly." Chuckling, he placed the PADD in front of her. "There's the battle plan as it stands." Iannella was silent as she read through it, tapping a finger idly on the desk. "Not bad for a group that didn't consult me," she grinned finally, handing it back. "Well I didn't 'think' I needed to consult you to command my ship, Nelly." He grinned teasingly, and took the PADD back, the smile quickly disappearing. "It's a nice theory... but it hinges on the Hydrans biting. I'm not sure they will." "From what reports I've seen on their habits, they seem more than willing to go after anything. I doubt they would hang back." Iannella settled herself on the edge of his desk, looking at the PADD again. "What would you change?"

Na'sav leaned back in his chair, looking up at her with a typically sarcastic smirk. "Other then the fact this started?" He licked his lips, uncertain of what his Starfleet companion might think of the answer. "I'd go after that damned creature, and probably use biological warheads if need be to destroy it." The Human didn't answer initially, made distinctly uncomfortable by what he was proposing. She concentrated on the PADD instead, sifting through the stored information on their tactical deployment. "We don't have biological warheads," she said eventually.

"I know." Na'sav answered, barely. His voice wasn't much above a whisper, mostly because it was readily apparent how uncomfortable the situation was making her. Even though they didn't have the sickbay to create a virus on their own, one of the other ships could. "I'm just being honest." The latter came out rather defensively. He knitted his hands together, folding them in his lap. He could hardly believe he was thinking of... well... essentially destroying someone's religious symbol, someone's 'God' for a military victory. "Things are desperate." he muttered more as a reminder to himself then an explination to her. In fact, momentarily, he forgot she was even there. "There are rules in war. Even when things are desperate. If we escalated this, we would lose. Maybe not this battle, or even this war. But we would still lose. How could anyone go home to their children to say what we had done? What depths of depravity we sunk to in the name of their own protection? Villany cannot be so justified. And when we next find ourselves against the Hydrans, or any other, what shall stop them? And how could anything stop us?" "The whole reason we're here is because 'nothing' has stopped them yet. Hundreds of ships, some of the most technically advanced warships in the entire Galaxy, destroyed in a matter of days. Millions of lives are already lost... you're right, maybe it's wrong to consider it an option... maybe it is a crime, but since when is war anything 'but' a crime?" He shook his head, repeating what he heard in a classroom back in the AQDF, before the Dominion War. "When the decision to fight is already made, it's best to get it done with quickly, to be as ruthless and brutal as necessary to bring about the end as soon as possible. It might be bloody in the short run, but at 'least' it saves lives in the long." Iannella sighed and shook her head. It 'sounded' good, but something told her he was still wrong. "You do that and you inbreed hatred, on all sides. You justify excessive, crippling force, but what if it doesn't work? Then you've cause inexpressible devestation and the framework for future atrocity." "I'm not advocating 'excessive' force. From all indications this isn't a 'conventional' war, where there's an option to retreat, or to surrender. The Hydrans, from what we know, havn't played by the rules, and if destroying one of their creatures is the price of sparing a key ally from eradication, then so be it!" After that, Na'sav became aware his teeth had clenched, his pulse racing with the argument, and tried to calm down. It would do no good to get her mad, to get them both mad just moments before a big fight. He stared at the desk, murmuring. "It's a moot point anyway. As you pointed out, we're not carrying any warheads... and we certainly don't have the means of developing them on our own." The tactical officer visibly relaxed. There were some lines she would not cross, and thankfully reality made it so she didn't have to put her convictions to the test. Not yet, at any rate. "We're better off focusing on what we have and what we can do," she offered, trying to console and mollify him. "We have a good crew on this ship, and I've no doubt the others are up to snuff. We'll hold the line."

"You're right." Na'sav relented, as much as he hated to. Losing wasn't something he much cared for, at all. He could easily point out that it was highly unlikely 16 starships would make a massive difference when entire fleets were demolished before them, but what was the point? "We've only got a few minutes left before they enter the system. Are we ready?" "Just waiting on your final orders." Iannella rose from the desk. "Did you want to say a few words to the crew?" "I'm supposed to go out there and tell people that they should fight, possibly die, for people that were their sworn enemies a decade ago?" He looked at her with disbelief, but again she was right. She never, since they first met, ever held her opinion back in private, regardless of their respective ranks. He couldn't help but have a deep admiration over that. "Yeah, as soon as I can think of something to say." In the small space, it wasn't difficult for her to reach over and give his shoulder a companionable squeeze. "There's a whole database of captain's speeches, you know. But I think what you articulate on your own will be what the crew needs to hear. You're their captain." "Heh, whatever happened to that young, mesmerising woman I met on that space station so long ago? At least I could win an argument against her." Giving a small smile, Na'sav stood up, and drew his long time friend into a warm, perhaps prolonged, hug. "You should never have introduced her to an emotional Vulcan," she grinned, giving his side a slight jab as she extracted herself from the hug.

Na'sav laughed, reaching for the dull ache now affecting his side with one hand, and caressing Iannella's cheek with the other. In his mind he ran through a million different possibilities, a thousand different prayers, and a hundred seconds worth of flashing memories... in the end replying with what his CO, back in that long forgotten patrol cutter once told him. "I'll see you on the battlefield." Iannella gave him a parting smile, clueless to the thoughts running through her captain's head, her own intent on the fast-approaching battle. Taking her leave, she stepped out of the cramped ready room and repositioned herself at the tactical station. It wouldn't be long now. Na'sav watched her go, turning his attention back to words for the crew, the old proverb about letting the heart lead crossing his mind, and in an instant he decided to just 'say' it. "Attention all hands, this is the captain. In a few minutes, the Hydran fleet will be entering the Romulan system, their designs remain unknown, though their intention is quite clear." He licked his lips before continuing. "It's the moment we've been preparing for. I know for most of you this is your first assignment. For almost all of you, this is your first taste of combat. All of you have shown incredible fortitude, and I have absolute faith in your strength, your determination, and your skill in battle. What we're doing here no longer matters, nor does why we were assigned to be here. We 'are' here, and we will either give a good accounting of ourselves, or be hunted down and destroyed. Personally, I prefer the former." Most CO's were accustomed to giving elaborate orders for battle, dictating what would happen, when, and how, using their crew more as an extension of themselves. Na'sav had no such desire for micro-management. He had such confidence in them, young as they may be, inexperienced as they were... and in their training, that there were only two words which summed up every order necessary. "Battle stations." Giving one last look around the room he affectionately referred to as a closet, the Stagnorian took a deep breath before walking out onto the bridge, falling in step with the sounds of the klaxons.

"Awakening"

Commander Kisha Ventar Chief of Surgery USS Miranda
Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

**** Main Sickbay USS Miranda ****

Sound was the first sense he got back as he slowly awoke from the drug induced coma. The constant hum of the engines, booted feet nearby, softer footfalls closer, more likely from soft leather shoes of some sort, voices in the distance, though he couldn't make out what was being spoken. The occasional swish of something followed or preceded by the sounds of feet. He had never really listened before, not like this anyway. Normally he would be seeing what he was hearing and both senses dulled commonly dulled what the other sensed. It was always a common occurrence for someone who had lost his hearing or sight to gain improved attentiveness of the other remaining senses and Steven was finally understanding what they had been on about during his brief academy days when some lecturer, that he couldn't remember, had talked about it. He hoped beyond hope that his hearing being better than usual didn't mean that he had lost his sense of sight. What kind of marine could he be if he couldn't see. He tried opening his eyes, to find a very dimly lit room of some kind. He had no notion of where he was or even if this was the afterlife. Was he dead? Surely not. He didn't recall dying. In fact, what did he recall? Hazy memories floated past in his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened to him. After a few moments of reflection, he became acutely aware that his whole mid-section felt completely numb. Steven wiggled a toe, followed by each of them in turn. He was whole at least. So relaxed did he feel that he reasoned that he hadn't felt quite as calm and peaceful for a very long time. Not that that helped answer where he was, or how he had gotten here. Approaching footsteps alerted him to someone moving in his direction. He craned his neck to see who it was.

Dr. Ventar from a short distance could see that her patient had awaken and was beginning to stir. She walked up to his bed and smiled at her patient, "Lieutenant Jonas, glad to see that you are awake." She scanned him to make sure that his vitals were stable. "You were very lucky. It's not everyday that I get a patient with a bullet in his stomach." She put her scanner down, "How do you feel?"

"Numb. I can't feel a thing." He replied. "I assume that's a good thing?"

"Yes, it's a good thing. It should wear off in a couple of hours. I was able to fix all of the damage. When I said that you were lucky, I meant it. It just missed your spinal cord. Also, the bullet nicked your liver which I repaired too.You should be up and around in a day or so." "Oh. Well I guess I should thank you then." Steven smiled. "This doesn't look like the Galaxy's medical bay though."

She shook her head, "No, it's not. You were in critical condition and time was of the essence. I was available and I am damn good at my job too. You're alive, that's all you need to think about. As soon as you are up to it, we'll transfer you back to the Galaxy. Do you have any other questions?"

"If there are no more tests that you need to do, I'd like to go back in the next few hours. Not that I'm complaining about the great job you've done..." Steven smiled. "But I hope to rejoin my unit as soon as possible. How long do you think that will be?"

"Hold it soldier. That isn't going to happen. Medical technology has gone a long way but the body still needs time to heal. It may have missed the spinal cord but there is still some bruising around your spine. I'm afraid that you'll be on very light duty until your physician on the Galaxy says otherwise. Your buddies will have to do their job without you."

Steven frowned. "Bugger. I was hoping to see some combat this time."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could give you some better news. Besides, I think you've been through enough already in one day." "It's been almost four years since I've fired my rifle in combat." Steven explained. "I miss the thrill it gave me."

"Really. Look at it this way. You follow my orders and in two weeks, you can find that thrill again."

"Two weeks... I can live with that, I guess. Thanks Doc."

"You're welcome. I'll be back to discharge you. Go ahead and get some rest." Drr. Ventar walked away.

"Lessons Learned" Part Eight

Commander Na'sav Lorem Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Sorena Executive Officer

(Goshka played by Jola, special thanks!)

USS Vigilant

================================================

(USS Uskan, NCC 65491- A day later)

The Uskan was certainly taking the worst of a three-way stand off. Two Jem H'adar attack ships and a Cardassian Galor had zeroed in on the New Orleans class starship, and between particle weapons beams and torpedo blasts, it was rather obvious they weren't going to win this one. Things had started off bad, the fleet being drastically outnumbered and caught rather off guard, and just got a whole lot worse from there on out. Sorena was doing her best to make every hit count, and to hit as often and furiously as possible. Sometimes however, it was impossible to see how it was having any effect.

"Direct hits to our Starboard bow, hull breeches on Decks 3 through 6. Emergency forcefields in place and holding." Sorena reported and, given her standing orders, she began already targeting the Galor. More enemy troops, a greater combination of firepower, logic dictated it posed the greatest standing threat.

Another torpedo blast from the Galor shook the shields, though they held. Goshka, deep in Engineering, had been trying to get the engines back online. Their starboard nacelle had already been pulverized in the attack and in the middle of the battlefield, they couldn't risk going to warp. But even that was fast becoming a moot point as the systems began to destabilize. Goshka never imagined she'd be in this position. The chief engineer dead. The assistant chief trapped on the other side of the ship.

So now Goshka had to figure out what to do as the Uskan trembled and the computer informed her a warp core breech was imminent.

"Lieutenant Krzyz to the bridge. Captain," or whoever the hell was left alive up there, "the warp core's unstable. Breech predicted in ten minutes."

The Captain was about to respond when a final salvo of torpedo and beam blast tore the forward part of the saucer to shreds, right up to the forward section of the bridge. Sorena had hit the deck hard, the stinging sensation of being slammed against metal coupled with the agonizing pain of thousands of tiny knife like shards of shrapnel flying about, more then a few finding her as a mark.

The worst part by far, however, was seeing half a dozen officers dragged from the bridge into the vacuum of space.

She herself nearly passed out as the emergency forcefield only then clicked into place, the power systems on the ship being stretched to their limits. The other 3 or 4 officers seemed to be wounded, dead, or had abandoned the bridge already. She couldn't blame them. "All hands, abandon ship."

She was fortunate, her injuries far from crippling, and managed to stand up behind her station. Her last few commands were to set up a perimeter defense for the dozens of escape pods and shuttles that were bound to follow, with what few systems the Uskan had remaining. It wasn't much of a defense, but at the least it would buy them 'some' time for an escape.

That, and a shuttle craft with actual warp engines might allow someone to seek help.

Hearing the call to abandon ship, Goshka didn't wait long. She set up an emergency containment field around engineering, hoping to buy everyone aboard some time to get out. In the corridors, people surged by, moving in every and any direction. Some looked confused, attempting to crawl into jeffries tubes to avoid the crowded lifts. It didn't seem that bad an idea. Finding a ladder hatch, Goshka set her feet on the outside of the rungs and let herself slide down three decks to the nearest shuttle bay. Shuttles were better. They had shields, for one. And she'd seen enough to know the Jem H'adar targeted escape pods with a vigor that made her ill to her stomach.

She was trying not to think about the people who wouldn't get out. She was trying not to think about where her friends were right now. Her body was bent on surviving, and it was all her mind could do to keep up.

This was her fault. She should have been able to prevent the breech. Now the ship was going to blow and people were going to die and she couldn't stop it. But she should have!

Tears stung her eyes as her boots thudded on the deck. Her legs knew where to go, propelling her foreward until she found herself outside the shuttle bay. There was only one craft left.

Sorena got off the lift with that typical Vulcanish demeanor... sort of awe striking given the situation in hand. She didn't run to the shuttle, simply walked, and when necessary limped, very quickly. "Is there anyone behind you, Ensign?"

"I haven't seen anyone," Goshka answered, catching her breath and standing back to allow the senior officer to board first.

Sorena gave a nod and hit the ramp control, the back of the shuttle decending at what seemed an entirely too slow pace. "The fleet is heavily out-numbered, and nearly encircled. It is imperitive that we inform Starfleet Command of the situation." Sorena figured, after all, that in the event one of them died for whatever reason, the other must be able to complete the task. "Do you understand?"

Goshka nodded, it dawning on her what the woman was getting at. "Yes, ma'am." She followed Sorena into the shuttle's small interior and sat down at navigation. She had hardly activated the systems when the shuttle deck beneath them began to shake violently.

Sorena sat in the opposite chair and began powering up the shuttle's systems. Fortunately the door was already for them. "Take us out."

Goshka didn't need to be told twice. The shuttle's thrusters powered up and the engineering ensign piloted the vessel through the door. That was the easy part. Nothing inside the destructing ship was trying to hit them specifically. Now they were moving outside the Uskan's protectve hull, they were in sight of two of their three opponents. Around them, escape pods jettisoned from the Federation ship only to be caught by a lancing phaser beam from the Jem H'adar. "How could they?!" Goshka knew it happened, but the comment spilled out before she could think better of it.

"A colleague of mine once stated it is best not to ask." Sorena replied absently, her focus entirely on making the shuttle as ready to be knocked around as possible.

Despite the changes however, and just before they got to warp, the Cardassian ship, itself now hemhorraging from repeated weapons blasts managed a parting shot at the shuttle, enough to cause severe damage.

"Our warp engines are begining to fail. There is a Binary star system, here." She remembered it from the trip over, pointing it out on the pilot's rolling star-chart. "The 5th planet in the system is Class M."

Goshka did little more than grunt, her attention now wholly fixed on keeping the shuttle going in the general direction she wanted. "Hang on," she got out through gritted teeth. "I'm taking us to warp."

The failing engines had enough power left for them to make it to the system. In the process however, virtually all of their propulsion systems aside from thrusters failed. It was going to be a pretty rough landing. "Try and keep the nose up and a 30 degree angle."

"Tell that to the shuttle," came the answer as they hit the atmosphere. Goshka pumped all she could to the forward shields, the small craft shaking under the strain. But they held together. They had little choice for finding a landing pad. Goshka worked the thrusters for all they were worth, just clipping a grove of trees and bringing the shuttle round to face a patch of dense scrub. "Brace yourself."

The tail of the shuttle hit first, bouncing on the ragged ground for several meters before Goshka could get the nose to join it. They skidded, burning a swath in the undergrowth from the friction, before coming to a hard stop as the last of the momentum died against a boulder.

How Sorena had managed to stay in her seat through it all was anyone's guess, yet the Vulcan half-breed managed to get up and walk away from her station. It was obvious the shuttle wouldn't be flying anytime soon. "Are you injured Ensign?"

"A bump on my head." She was slower to get up, finally extracting herself from her seat after taking a minute to revel in the fact she'd survived. "Is this place inhabited?"

"No." Sorena murmured flatly, unsure as to whether that was a good thing or not. "We should be out of the jamming range of the Dominion fleet. I will send the distress call, attempt to take an inventory of the equipment that might be of use to us."

"Yes, ma'am." Goshka clambered over to the shuttle's lockers and, after a little effort as the latch had jambed, succeeded in opening it. The contents had stayed mostly in place. Whoever had been assigned to the maintenance of this shuttle knew what they were doing.

Sorena sent an encrypted, text message with her authorization code via the subspace transmitter, and activated the emergency beacon. There was little else for the shuttle to do now except continue the transmissions. They might as well find a place more likely 'not' to attract attention in the event the wrong side turns up. That was all they could do. "What do we have to work with?"

"Rations enough for a week. Week and a half at a pinch. Flares and a locator signal. Three type II phasers. Med kit. Engineering kit. Sample collection device and a tricorder."

At this moment, according to the Command Responsibility professor she had at the Academy, it was time for what she labeled 'positive reinforcement'. "Your service to date has been exemplary, Ensign." Sorena offered honestly as she began loading what would fit into the surviving field bag. "We should attempt to locate shelter suitably distant from the site to avoid detection by the Dominion, and preferably near water and potential food supplies."

"Thank you..?" The comment seemed to come out of nowhere and left Goshka wondering why it was mentioned in the first place. She hardly knew the half-Vulcan as it stood. "If my eyes were working when we came in, I think we passed over a strip of blue off to the," Goshka paused and reoriented her position to be as it had been in the chair, then began turning her arms akimbo as she sought out the right compass direction, "southeast. Maybe five kilometers. Could be a river."

"Having a body of water to follow would simplify navigation." Sorena agreed, tossing the bag on her back. Only then did she remember the shrapnel shard sticking out of her leg rather painfully. It took considerable pain to make even a half Vulcan admit to being unable to proceed just yet, and Sorena eased herself back into a chair. "Do you remember your first aid training, Ensign?"

Goshka looked down and spotted the problem. "I think I do," she answered nervously. Blood always made her feel nauseated. She pulled the med kit over and opened it up, her eyes scanning the contents until she found the items she wanted - or thought she needed. "You're not allergic to terakine, are you?"

"No." Sorena hadn't realized how much she was bleeding. Unlike most Vulcans she was red blooded, even if there still existed vastly higher amounts of copper than one would normally find in a blood stream. With a gulp as she saw the Ensign struggle with the piece, she added "Thank you."

"Hold that thought." Goshka pressed the hypo to the woman's neck, waited a minute for it to get fully circulate, then took a hold of the shrapnel. "Oh god.." she whispered under her breath as she pulled it out. Afraid of hurting the woman, she pulled far too slowly, extending the scene. The skin had begun to close around the foreign object and Goshka had to use force to fully remove it. As the last edge came free, blood spilled anew from the wound. Bile rose in Goshka's throat. Trying to look through squinting eyes so she didn't see too much, she found the sterile, sanitizing pads and the dermal regenerator. "Almost done."

Sorena surpressed a yelp, but it was rather obvious the procedure caused a great deal of pain. She gritted her teeth, every muscle in her body tensing with searing, blinding, intense... feeling. It was as if the hypo of pain killer had done nothing at all to a casual observer, though in all likelihood she would have passed out were it not for the terakine.

Hands shaking, Goshka cleaned the wound and tried to use the dermal regenerator to heal the cut. After a few minutes, it became obvious that the shrapnel had been embedded too deeply for the tool to be effective. The engineer rummaged in the med kit until she found the temporary sutures and applied them with greater success.

Sorena closed her eyes, sat back, and bore down. It would do neither of them any good to react overtly to the stinging sensation, still palpable despite the dulling effects of the medication. Besides, the Ensign was having difficulty with things as it were, the last thing she'd need was somebody moving. "Is the procedure complete?"

Grateful for the few seconds of peace the Ensign's unexpected repulsion of her dietary intake had afforded her, Sorena finally managed to get to her feet after a breather. It still hurt, now more than before, but the piece had to be removed before infection set in.

"You've displayed remarkable fortitude." She put a hand on Goshka's back to help her. "We must be on our way."

"Sorry, ma'am.. I didn't mean to.." Goshka coughed and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, her face beet red. She couldn't recall ever feeling so miserable. How did this woman manage to stay so calm. Goshka was two steps from running into the woods and screaming. "I'll grab the bag."

"No need. I am fine with it." And to prove that mouch, Sorena rummaged through the side pocket to pull out a pouch of water. "Here."

The ensign took a grateful swig before handing it back. "Okay." She oriented herself again, then pointed. "This way. I think."

"Lessons Learned" Part Nine

Commander Na'sav Lorem Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Sorena Executive Officer

(Goshka again played by Jola)

USS Vigilant

=======================================

(Immediately after landing.)

Sorena thought back to the orientation trick and nodded her agreement. They had quite a distance to cover... it would take a good two hours or so given the terrain and the fact she couldn't move very quickly. Perfect, as Na'sav would claim, conversation time. "Where are you from, Ensign?"

"Cygnia Minor, born and bred. You?" Goshka let Sorena set the pace, falling in step behind her.

"A transport vessel, actually." Sorena 'almost' blushed with the statement. "Enroute to Vulcan from Betazed. Married? Family?"

"Family, back home. And a fiance," she nodded. "Would've been married by now if it weren't for the war."

"I am sorry for your misfortune." Sorena picked up a rather sturdy looking stick and used it to help support her weakened side. "With... luck... the war will be over soon."

"Yeah," Goshka agreed gloomily. "But unless our luck changes, we won't be on the winning side."

Sorena 'almost' smirked, remembering her last conversation on Na'sav's ship. "Perhaps, Ensign... winning isn't necessary to reach an honorable peace."

"Peace?" Goshka stopped and stared at the half Vulcan. "You think those bastards are going to give us peace? That's not what they want! They want to annihilate us! You 'saw' what they did to the escape pods."

"They lose as we lose. Provided we are able to inflict serious enough losses, they will have no choice but to consider it." Granted, that wasn't likely, but it was a possibility, enough to keep hope going at least. "We have prevented the Dominion from being able to readily reinforce. The remaining forces are isolated and vulnerable."

"I don't see it," Goshka said with a shake of her head. "They seem damn strong from where I'm standing."

"Are you familiar with the Terran blow-fish?"

"No.. Why?"

"They are an interesting kind of creature, without much in the way of particular defense against natural predators. The way they defend themselves is through an illusion, increasing the size they appear to their enemies as a warning. A recurring theme in nature... top predators tend to be stealthy, why the hunted try to make themselves appear as dangerous as possible."

"I don't think I'm following you. We hardly appear to be that big or dangerous right now."

"We don't." Sorena stopped to regard her compatriot. "But the Dominion does."

Goshka considered this possibility. "It's a good trick. So how do you defeat a blow fish?"

"Overcome your fear, and pop it." Sorena suggested before starting to walk again. "What is your fiance's name?"

"Bochdan. He's a lobbyist back home." They'd begun walking again and had covered a little over a kilometer so far.

Idle conversation might seem illogical to some of her contemporaries, however aside from keeping focussed, it also provided valuable information that might be used later in order to verify her identity. "I wish the two of you long life and prosperity."

"Thank you. I'd really like to get back to him. I'm sure he's worried senseless about me," she chuckled softly. "He always worries too much."

Sorena was about to respond when there was a loud whistle, stemming from overhead. As she looked up, the colorful, flaming streaks of craft entering the atmosphere were easily visible against the bright blue sky. "I do not believe we are alone any more."

"Into the trees," Goshka recommended, her first thoughts those of trying to hide. The words were hardly out of her mouth before she was steering her companion toward the large tree trunks.

Goshka breathed a little easier. "Oh." Then a thought struck her. "How'd they get over here? There were no other ships in the system when we came out of warp."

"Indeed an excellent question." Sorena passed her a phaser. "We will establish a base camp first, then seek them out. If they come within line of sight, we might be able to establish communication." ===============================================

A week had passed, and sure enough there were small groups of Starfleet survivors, in teams of 3 and 4, sometimes 5. Over the time they'd met up, fanned out, and were pretty much stuck waiting for 'someone' to come pick them up.

Sorena was left with the unenviable task of assisting the doctor with the injured... some of which had passed already. It was a sad state of affairs, particularly as rations became more scarce and more had to be made of the local food resources. There was something about having to kill for food that was disturbing, but in one of her less Vulcanish moments, she was bound to do it.

Goshka had found herself barely able to function unless she kept herself busy. So she'd sent the days stripping the derelict escape pods of their useful components and trying to get any kind of response to the successive signals she sent out. It was a depressing situation.

"Have you eaten?" It seemed like a logical question given how hard the Ensign had been working the past few days. There were almost a dozen escape pods to work on after all.

"No. Is there more than pine cones to eat today?"

"Lieutenant Denal has roasted a local bovine. If you have no aversion to beef?"

"If I did I'd overcome it." Goshka pushed herself up and dusted off her knees. "How are the injured faring?"

"Crewman Scot and Ensign Donner did not survive their injuries." Sorena spoke in a low, almost regretful tone. "I reviewed the shuttle's sensors. There aren't any Federation ships within range, though there were two ships heading in our direction."

"Did any of the survivors say where they'd come from?"

"One of the other escape pods was from the Uskan. Two came from the Dominica, two from the Charleston, and one each from the Eckers, Boson, Lakeland, Juneau, Haiti, Sh'ken, and Harrier."

Goshka took this in and nodded, calculating time and distance in her head. "It's lucky we all landed here, in the same spot of this planet."

"Chief Avarez had speculated that some of the escape pods tripped into a temporary sub-space highway, the terminating point of which was in this system." She dwelled on that, moving a strand of hair behind an only slightly pointed ear. "The unidentified ships may have discovered this themselves."

"It would explain some of the sensor damage I've been finding," the ensign nodded. She paused, her nostrils catching the scent of cooking meat. It was the best smell in the world. "Wow, that smells good."

"You should have your meal, I will take over." Sorena offered, kneeling down in her place. "And you require sleep."

"So do you, you know. You can't run this place solo on no sleep."

"I require less sleep." She murmured flatly, taking a moment to survey what might be useful.

"Maybe, but you're making m- others feel they have to do the same."

Sorena 'almost' frowned. "My apologies, it was not my intention..." the Vulcan hybrid was cut off as she stared at the sensor readings in near disbelief. They were badly damaged, but enough remained that she could make a determination. "We must warn the others, the Jem H'adar are coming."

"Lessons Learned" Part Ten

Commander Na'sav Lorem Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Iannella Naimi Chief Tactical Officer

USS Vigilant

==================================

Time didn't pass, at least no where near as quickly as it should have been. From the accounts he'd read of other friends, families, and even lovers of military officers, he was experiencing the typical apprehension associated with awaiting after-action news.

Well, actually in this case it was more like accute anxiety. The news of the massive defeat of Tyra, with the salvage of only 14 remaining vessels, their escape paid for in the blood of hundreds of slaughtered Starfleet personnel attempting to flee their stricken vessels, was by now fairly common knowledge. Now it was a matter of waiting... and waiting... and waiting for confirmation really from the casualty list itself.

His heart sanke into the pit of his stomach when the information scrolled along the LCARS screen. Na'sav's eyes zoomed immediately towards the end.

Sure enough, the Uskan was listed. His eyes scrolled down, looking to confirm his fears.

'Lieutenant Junior Grade Sorena, MIA presumed KIA.'

Slinking away, Na'sav was caught between a fury competing in intensity with hell's own heat, the ice-cold clench of despair, and th quartering feeling of indecision... particularly of what to do next. Was there anything he 'could' do, other than get back to his Raider? The War did carry on after all. Was their anything he 'should' do... or feel for that matter? Did he even have time to dwell on recent events? The war did go on after all... it did, regardless of who was lost. Na'sav, mired as he was in his thoughts, scarcely caught himself he crashed into some woman he hadn't recognized. "Sorry." he murmurred with an embarrassed blush and apologetic quasi-frown.

Iannella had spent the last innumerable hours sitting on the floor. As it finally dawned on her mind that she ought to go 'somewhere', do 'something', she'd struggled to her feet, an overwhelming case of pins and needles leaving her unsteady for the few seconds necessary to get bumped into. With a grunt of irritation, she pushed herself back from the bulkhead. "Happens," she acknowledged the apology. She was still young, her hair beginning to slip free of the pigtails that held it out of her face. "Lose someone?"

Was it really that obvious? Despite his thoughts, his answer wasn't nearly as sarcastic. "Yeah. A good friend. You?"

"Probably." She tilted her head to one side, getting a good look at him. "Come on."

"Come on?" He didn't quite follow, but at the same time there was a level of sincerity and innocence about her that made it impossible to resist to any great measure. "Don't want to see the list?"

"You don't need to be here. I don't want to be here. And the exit lies through me. So, come on." And without warning, she slipped her hand in his and pulled him forward a step.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement, but there was no harm in following. "Fair enouigh. Do you have a name? Not usually in the business of holding the hands of strange women."

"You could hold on to a pigtail if you want. They make great handles," she chuckled lightly, letting go of his hand. "The name's Iannella. Iannella Naimi. And you are?"

"Na'sav Lorem." He allowed a crack of a smile, 'officially' offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Iannella couldn't help but notice that the man didn't look to please, but she didn't let that stop her. Shaking his hand, she kept him moving. "So what department are you with?"

"None, actually." He admitted as if it were a big secret. "I'm the Commander of a patrol craft. What about you?"

"Tactical." She admitted it as though it were a great embarrassment that had once been a point of pride.

The irritation in her voice with the mention made it obvious she had her own issues... he couldn't help but relate. Tactical was a thankless job at the best of times, and during war it was damned frustrating. "What ship?"

"The Wuer Kaixi. She was a good ship, just couldn't hold out."

"I'm sorry." Na'sav gave her arm a squeeze. "Where are you off to now?" He thought about the question as they were still walking. "I mean professionally, ofcourse."

She shrugged, sliding her hands into her pockets. "I'll go where they send me. I'll be reassigned. How about you? What happened to your ship?"

"Crew rotation." He chuckled, relaxing if only a little. "It's docked in bay 11. Still awaiting orders on top of that."

The girl seemed to breath a bit easier. "Need a tacitcal officer?" she jested as they rounded a final corner and the doors to the arboretum slid open.

"Amongst others." Na'sav took a moment to look around. Sufficing to say, he was unaccustomed to seeing such green space on a stellar installation, even if it was a space station. "Wow."

Iannella smiled to herself, happy her idea seemed to be working. "There's a reflecting pool toward the back."

"Reflecting 'pool'?" The words "just how big is this place?" followed, but far lower than the original question. He kept moving, sticking by her side. "So where was your ship attacked?"

"Okay, so it's more like a reflecting bathtub, but that hardly has a nice ring." Iannella led the way down one of the paths to the small body of water. It was arranged like a stain-glass window, different compartments of varying sizes each holding a liquid of a different colour, and it all was lit from beneath by lights when Iannella pressed a small button on a raised pedestal. "We were on the left flank. At least at first. We got turned around at one point when our navigation shorted."

"Tyra?" He guessed, crouching at the bank of the 'pool' and watching the rather dazzling light show almost hypnotically. Hesitantly he disturbed the peaceful surface, dipping his finger into the water.

"Where else?" Iannella sat down on a bench. "So who was your friend?"

"Another tactical officer." Na'sav mumbled, his eyes fixed at one of those indeterminable points that lay at the floor. "Lieutenant J.G. Sorena, she was on the Uskan."

"I'm sorry..." Iannella clasped her hands in front of her knees, trying to find something non-stupid to say. "How long had you known her?"

"About a year. Her original assignment was on the Majestic, which was a tending ship for our Raider squadron. She was transfered, along with the commanding officer, just in time for the battle." At that realization he took a long, and hard swallow. "I dropped them off."

She couldn't help but be a bit surprised by that. Such good friends after a year? Well, it was a strange universe. "They were assigned. You can't give yourself blame over that."

"Yeah... I know." He finally opted to sit down, taking a spot next to her. "How about you?"

"I'm sure there are. I just don't want to know about it."

That was something he really couldn't understand, but certainly wasn't about to bring up. "All right. So... were you serious about asking for the tactical spot?"

She hadn't been, but it sounded like he was about to make an offer, so... what the hey. "Yes."

Na'sav tossed a pebble, figuring it the best way to part a body of water, however small. "I guess I should show you the boat then." He offered his arm. "Come on."

Smiling a little foolishly, Iannella took it. "Lead on, captain."

"Family Business"

Slight Backpost

(Occurs Four Hours before 'Hour of the Sword')

Captain Daren M'Kantu Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

****

USS Galaxy Deck 1 Captain's Ready Room

The drop fell slowly, faces from the crowd that surrounded it reflected on its mirror-like surface.

It descended, descended until it contacted the seven-foot-long fabric spread on the floor. The insignia painted on the fabric reflected on the drop as well before it splattered. It was the symbol of the United Federation of Planets.

The fabric burst ablaze.

Saul Bental turned off the ready room's projector, and turned toward his Captain. "In fact, Anti Federation riots are decreasing, replaced with public panic. Also, many Romulans are fleeing Ki Baratan, and the more wealthy ones also depart the planet. The exodus is on a much smaller scale than what would happen if this was Earth and not ch'Rihan, but its there."

"More, I expect," Daren observed, "due to the smaller number of individuals with access to private interstellar transport than a reduction in the numbers that might want to use it." He looked at the blank screen for a moment. "How reliable are your sources?"

"Most of what we know is based on reports from the Romulan media, as well as shards of information from our 'special sources'." Saul continued, referring to the undercover SFI agents stationed on ch'Rihan. "The 101st. battalion's refusal to collaborate prevents us from collecting more in-depth information about the ongoing events on the planet."

"If the Romulans are reporting things as being this bad, then the truth is probably so bad we don't want to think about it," Daren sighed. He glanced up at Saul. "And while it would have been useful to have, the refusal of the 101st to have your spy devices attached to their equipment was both within their right and, in my opinion, proper. Just because we have the capacity to do something and it would be useful, or expedient, doesn't mean that we should do something, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir." Saul replied. In his mind's eye, a door was just slammed shut. Without his Captain's support, chances of turning 'Instrumentality' into a success were lower than the average Ferengi's benevolence.

Considering the imminent defeat of the Romulans, collecting intelligence on them won't help much anyway.

Saul proceeded to brief the Captain with the latest news from the battlefield. He knew the Captain had already seen the footage of the starbeast, so instead of a rerun he summarized his knowledge of the Hydrans' organic spacecraft technology. After that, he presented the latest known advances of the Hydran powers.

"... at this sector, stopping momentarily to decimate a civilian convoy fleeing corewards. That's the last time our long-range sensors picked that part of the taskforce, but it leaves three reasonable routes to ch'Rihan. If I were a high-ranking Romulan, I would make sure these routes are crawling with space mines."

"Let's hope that they're thinking the same way that you are, then," Daren returned. "But I think we should plan on the Hydrans being essentially unopposed in their advance - there's less chance of getting caught with or pants down that way."

Saul decided that this would be the best point to bring his point up. "I must admit that our current intelligence on the crisis is lacking. We don't know enough. The Romulan intelligence agencies aren't collaborative, and our own abilities are limited. Permission to speak freely?"

Which, of course, meant that the Lieutenant likely had something he thought would be unpopular to say. "By all means, Lieutenant - we don't have time to worry too much about formalities."

Saul folded his arms. "Right now, we don't know what's going to hit us, and the Romulans' lack of collaboration suggest that they intend to use us as cannon fodder. When the Hydrans arrive, we'll last less than the second galae. I think the fleet should withdraw from ch'Rihan."

Daren looked at the younger man for a moment, letting the words roll around in his head, and then smiled and shook his head. "That would be the smartest thing to do, I agree. Perhaps even the wisest. It is, in fact, what I expect some senior figures in the Fleet would prefer that we do, so that the Romulans will be crippled as a power in the Quadrant, perhaps even eliminated."

Saul already considered that if the leading figures at Starfleet command and the Federation council, Starfleet might have refused the Romulans' request for help for that exact reason. It was not among the reasons behind his proposal, though - merely a regrettable side effect.

"I think, in fact, that those senior fleet personnel expect us to run when the battle is engaged," Daren continued. "The Hydrans certainly expect us to run. Their allies, the Breen and the T'Kith'Kin, expect us to run. I believe that even the Romulans themselves expect us to run." He leaned forward. "Why, after all, would we stay? The Romulans have been our political and military enemies for generations - why would we stay and fight and die for them? What possible reason could we have for doing that? What possible reason is there, Mr. Bental..." he finished softly, "except that it's the right thing to do?" Daren shook his head. "No, no running, Saul."

What could he say? Words like 'Tactical retreat' and 'Regrouping' dissolved in face of the Captain's resolution.

"I don't need to tell you that Intel will do their best with full devotion, no matter what my personal opinion is." Saul assured the Captain. "I just thought it should be expressed."

"That's part of your job," Daren nodded, "no explanations needed."

"That concludes today's intelligence briefing, then," Saul said. Then, he lowered his eyes, and let out a well-timed chuckle.

"Is something funny?" Daren asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because if so, I could use a laugh about now."

"It's just, sir," Saul looked up, smiling. "That I just recalled a conversation I had with a fellow crewmember. You were mentioned."

"Amusingly, apparently," M'Kantu observed.

"He had a personal problem, and came to consult with me. Some extremist group on his homeworld harassing or blackmailing his parents because they had a kid in Starfleet or something along these lines... I only got a few details out of him. I also think he was exaggerating. Still, he wasn't sure who to come to, or if he wanted to talk to anyone at all. I told him--" Saul's gaze met the Captain's. Any sign of the chuckle was long gone. "I told him that even Captain M'Kantu knows that if someone is troubling him or blackmailing him, he can come to me. The Galaxy is my ship, its crew my family, and I don't let punks harass my family."

Well, that was plain enough. Bental either knew - or suspected so strongly that he might as well know - that Andrus had something on Daren, something that was strong enough to keep him from being thrown off the ship the way he deserved. The real question was, did Daren want to risk exposing Bahiyah? Perhaps not directly, but it might not hurt to have a back-up plan in effect... "Family is important," Daren agreed quietly. "In some ways, it's the most important thing there is. Caring for one's family, loving them... protecting them." He met Saul's eyes. "You understand, don't you?"

Saul shook his head. His real family was an exception, but that was beside the point.

"I thought you would," Daren nodded. "Sometimes you can think that you have everything under control, that you're on top of a situation... but in an instant, things can turn around on you. That's when you need a friend, someone to help you catch things before you fall. Someone who understands about... family."

"And about loyalty." Saul agreed as he began collecting all of his presentation aids. "If you ever feel you need such a person, your Intelligence officer is at your service."

"I'll keep that in mind," Daren nodded. "It's a good thing to know." He paused, and then added, "Thank you, Saul."

Another silent nod. The offer was on the table, and not ignored or dismissed without thought. That met Saul's expectations precisely.

One good turn deserved another. If Saul was willing to help him, then.... "One more thing," Daren said as Saul turned to leave. "There's a young Romulan who's volunteering with Engineering right now. There's no compulsory requirement for him to talk to you, but you might find it worth your while to make friends with him. He comes from a... highly placed family... and might be able to give you some useful insights. Just remember that he's a teenager by our standards, and has all the frustration and anger that entails."

Saul took a pause as he tried to connect the Captain's suggestion to the conversation. What would a Romulan engineer have to do with Andrus, blackmail or friends?

A hint of a smile emerged. He'd just have to find out. Tipped by Captain M'Kantu - who would've thought?

"I will see to it, sir."

"This is Not What I Signed Up For"

Commander Ashley Shaw, Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Vigilant

Location: USS Vigilant Bridge

Ashley sat at her station on the bridge. Her small frame fitting in nicely with the small bridge. She had had a short amount of time with her older brother and his girlfriend before the Hydrans had entered the system. She just sat their looking at reports as they came in from the scouts. She had seen the same footage as every other Intelligence Officer in the fleet had, and from that she wasn't expecting to come out of this alive. "Oh God, just don't let me fuck up," she said to herself as she keyed in a few more commands.

She watched her screen as the Hydrans grew closer to the central part of the system. They where taking out orbital weapon platforms as they entered the system. Cleaning the system up as they came it seemed. They didn't look like they considered the Federation Fleet and their Romulan support as much to worry about and that worried her.

The Captain seemed calm as did the rest of the bridge crew, but she could feel under that they where all nervous. All wondering if they would be coming home after this. Going home to their friends, their family, their loved ones.

She couldn't tell if her worry was more for her or her brother, who was now down on the planet surface. Why they had even deployed the SFMC was beyond her. It was a bad planning move. Also sending 25 some odd Federation ships to guard a planet from a fleet triple their size was also nuts. She wanted to know who had come up with this hair ball plan in the first place. The most they could do was stall the force for about 10 seconds. Well, maybe a minute if they didn't call in the big guns right at the start, but that Romulan Fleet had been decimated pretty quick, and Starfleet does not have a good score when it comes to facing the Hydrans.

So she waited. And waited. She was never meant to in combat. She hated fire fights that broke out when she was under cover. She was never meant to be a solder. She was supposed to be a desk jock, with some field work. Nothing like this. She was going to have to talk with her superior after this.

********************************************************************************

Unknown Person
Location: Unknown

The older man sat in the darkened room, watching. He had seen this conflict coming ever since the Triad had been formed. He knew that Starfleet would not win this and that it would cause a great political backwash back home. He also knew his old assistant was out there. The poor young woman was never meant to be a situation that she was in, but there was nothing he could do for her now.

So he watched.

********************************************************************************

Major Peter Shaw, 101st Battalion XO, USS Miranda-B
Location: Just Outside ch'Rihan Capital

Pete looked around. Bravo company had done quick work to get everything setup, and they where ready.. he hopped. In this location it was just a shot from a capital ship and they where gone, though hopefully they would try and capture the planet with survives for their "resources". That was their only hope of even considering coming out of this alive whole situation alive.

He took one last look around. His men where armed with the standard Type-III Phaser Rifles, except for one marine per fire team who carried a TR-116. They had no idea of the capabilities of the Hydran's ground forces and he didn't want to get caught without having the right weapons. Even with one per fire team, it was cutting it short, but most of the marines had yet to get certified with the TR-116. If they lived through this he was going to have to pound it into his marines harder to get certified.

Pete picked up his rifle, checked it, "okay boys, get ready," he yelled.

********************************************************************************

Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison/AWACS Pilot, USS Galaxy-A
Location: USS Galaxy Flight Deck

Paulo did a few last checks of his AWACS runabout. He had been moved up a little after passing some extra flight tests and was able to actual pilot now. He still wanted to try his hand at a fighter, but right now was not the time to ask the CAG. Yet again, he really didn't want to be out there. He had a bad feeling about this whole fight and wasn't sure if he would come out of it alive. The most he could try to do was stay in the shadow of the Capital ships and give as much support to the Vanguard Squadron as he could. He wasn't there to fight.

After finishing his checks he powered the runabout up and waited for clearance to take off.

"Queen of Glory"

By Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Chief Of Operations - USS Galaxy

**** Chief Of Operations quarters ****

"Chief Of Operations' personal log...." Michael paused before continuing. It felt so good to be able to say that phrase over and over again. It's been some time since he felt the obligation, duties and responsibilities of a department's head, and yet, as time passed by and he grew older and older, Operations seemed to be his place of refuge. "The moment I have expected for many years is now a reality," he said softly, "I have been waiting to spring back into action for quite some time now...however, in the last moments of grace, I am uncertain."

"I have never defended Romulans before...nor wanted to. I understand the necessity of the mission, to stop the Hydrans, but it eludes me as to why the Klingons are participating in this mission." Jamson crossed his hands and started to pace around the room. "There are rumors of a secret weapon, and the fact the an entire Romulan fleet fell to it's knees. I find it hard to believe an entire Armada fell in a short time, but one thing I've learned over the years, 'never say never' and it is best to believe' sometimes, in things you cannot see.

"The Operations department on the Galaxy is doing it's best to coordinate inter-ship, ship to ship, planetary assignments, resources and logistics, in order to prepare for the upcoming battle and campaign. With more than 17 ships, not including the Romulans, and crews spread on the planetary missions, it's a most sophisticated task to perform, yet I know for certain the crew members are doing their best." Knowing and staying in touch with the other Ops chiefs in the fleet, Jamson saw the major effort coming to life, but in his opinion, no ship could be matched to the Queen of Glory, the USS Galaxy. The only one getting close to such estate and standard was the Miranda, which he did not know very well.

"I have chosen most of the Ops officers to stay on board for the upcoming battle deliberately. With the Hydrans closing by, I fear the ship would need any well experienced officers it could get. Being at Operations, the majority of the manpower is versatile and capable of helping out in any field necessary." Picking a padd from his desk, he sighed "We have received some fresh newbies, right from the Academy. In my early years of command, I would have sent them wherever needed, but after seeing how blood is shed in the field of battle, for so long, I wouldn't be the one to send them to their death. Warrior or not...last time I checked, Starfleet wasn't a democracy, and if I could give them a chance, it would be just that."

Gazing at the stars through his indoor windows, he could feel what was coming. He could smell it, taste it, and embrace it when needed. Some say that war has it's rules, but that only matters when it comes to honor. Some species and races have no honor, like the Romulans, but in the end it came to the survival of the fittest, even when it comes to cheating. Rules are for the strong minded individuals...those who wish only to survive are the weak ones. It seemed like the Hydrans have switched sides. He used to think of them as honorable fighters, but they looked no better than the Romulans.

"I have seen and taken part in many wars, won commendations and lost good men as well as dear friends. I have learned to appreciate every single breath of air, and at the same time deny any emotion. I adore the crying of the wounded in battle, the smoke, fear and bravery, but I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe I'm getting older...couple of years ago, I would have strapped myself into a combat suit and stormed with the ground forces."

How odd was that? Jamson staying onboard with the crew instead of gearing up and welcoming war. His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of his personal computer. The clock was counting, he didn't have too much time before the Hydran fleet would reach their position. Closing his eyes, and could feel the moment. You don't have too many of these in life. This moment was a part of history, something to remember. 'A good day to die?

perhaps'... he mumbled. "Computer...end log."

*** Bridge - USS Galaxy ****

Tension was at it's highest, with some crew members running around and the rest focusing on their duties. It was obvious something was going on. The smell of fear and anticipation filled the room. Almost no one spoke, the captain wasn't there, and only the humming of the ship ruled the command room. Without gazing too much, Jamson took his seat at the Ops station "Standing side by side with the Romulans....I'll be damned."

Engineering Log Compilation

***************************

USS GALAXY:
***********

Assistant Chief of Engineering Reports:

The ship is running better than I have ever seen it in a long while. We are still conscious however of the damage done by the clone of O'Shea, and therefore have taken every step to ensure that all systems are working to full capacity.

Currently Lieutenant (Jg) Roswell has headed up a team for final systems checks, while Ensign Blair is running over our defence systems. Collectively we are exploring a way to increase our offensive power to our weapons systems, both long term and shot term options.

Tomorrow morning we will be starting evacuation procedures along with combat training refresher, in the event that we are boarded.

Tensions are running high; those that remember the last encounter with the Hydrens are both fearful and vengeful. It seams as time goes by we become more determined.

<Eshe out>

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe.

----

Chief Engineer's Log, USS GALAXY, Stardate 60609.17

I'm happy to report that the Galaxy is officially clone-tampering free.

We celebrated with a pot-luck in the break room, that consisted mostly of various kinds of replicated cookies, which I'm still trying to get them to clean up.

I've told the engineers that I will no longer accept 'the clone did it' as an excuse, just as the Quick virus also lost any convincing argument it once had. Someone, of course, had to ask if the 'one-armed man' excuse was still viable.

I continue to look to Dhani to replace me in the future but I don't think that her confidence level is anywhere near where it should be, which annoys me. I admit that I haven't paid much attention before to any one's personal lives other than my own so I am unclear about her exact problems or how to help her out.

Luckily she is in counseling (myself being an old pro by now at therapy, I can usually spot anyone else who is in therapy) so perhaps there is hope for her yet.

We're as ready as we'll ever be; I just hope it will be enough.

----

USS MIRANDA:
************

USS Miranda Chief Engineer's log, supplemental: "While I can't shake the feeling that we're going to get more than we bargained for with the Romulans, my immediate concern is the ships phasers and a possible saboteur. Lieutenant Carneiro and Ensign Shaav were very efficient in repairing the phasers, but the death of Ensign Tattaliga weighs heavy on my mind. Coupled with they mysterious readings that we found in the vicinity of Tattaliga's body, I would prefer to meet the Romulans with less on my plate and more time on my hands. I can only hope that we don't receive any further unexpected surprises before this mission is over. On this ship, though, that would take a miracle."

Medical Log Compilation

***********************

USS GALAXY:
***********

Chief Medical Officers Log - USS Galaxy
Stardate 50609.18 Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

"We have been in orbit of ch'Rihan for a while now, and preparations for combat are continuing. Each shift is running medical drills either in the main ward or at one of the secondary wards by my order, and I have engineering stripping all equipment that shows anything beyond a point one variance from standard operating tolerances. Backup equipment and portable units have been replicated or drawn from stores and I have co-opted Holodecks three and four for emergency triage areas should the need arise. Auxillary power units are also being installed near primary care areas to maintain power in emergency situations."

"I wish sometimes that all of this were completely unnecessary, I joined the fleet to explore, but all I seem to have done since I joined is to patch people up after fights, either mentally or physically. Where has the desire for exploration gone? I can't help but be reminded of the somewhat brief, and bizarre conversation I had with Admiral Terrel a short while back, what was it he said, 'All I want you to do is stand up for what you believe in, when the time comes,' and 'Never sacrifice your principles, Doctor.' It seems strange to be told that by an Admiral I've never met."

"What was he getting at? Something tells me I'll find out very soon."

"Also, I have received a memo detailing what information we have available on the physiology of the Hydrans from Intelligence, as well as a list of known pathogens and substances known to be harmful to their species. For the record I have filed this memo for review with the Captain after the current mission."

"My oath as a Doctor says right at the top 'First do no harm!' I will not use the skills I have been taught and pervert them into a weapon."

"EPP personnel have been sent updates as to the location of their medical duty stations in the event of medical emergencies, and I will be discussing with Ops to modify a Runabout to a purely medical rescue profile. While most runabouts have this capability already I would like something with a complete surgical unit aboard in case our shields cannot be lowered, or a patient cannot reach us in time. I'm also planning to liaise with the senior officers on the medical rescue ship assigned to this endeavor and co-ordinate our medical response to any crisis. There are a host of situations that we may have to face here, and if we can get a head start by planning for as many contingencies as possible I think we should."

"And finally, I hope sometime I can get a moment to beam over to the Arizona, it'd be nice to see Captain Rianissastranara'Cessk again, and maybe see how everyone over there is getting along. It'd be even nicer to see T'Prala again as well," she added wistfully, "I've not see her in so long."

"End log entry."

-----

USS MIRANDA:
************

Anjoli D'Bari's Medical Log, Stardate 60609.09 Our last medical sim scores place us in the top two percentile for mortality. The efficiency rating could be a touch higher, but I think my team is a little on the edge. They know what's coming, just like I do.

After a chat with the first officer, I believe that we are virtually certain that a shooting war is about to start. Of course, the Miranda is the tip of the spear with this grand new alliance between the Romulans and the Federation. I can only hope that we are prepared for another long war. I'm not certain I am. The days of the Dominion war were terrible. The terrible oss of life, the agonies of the wounded...the heartbreak of the survivors. Truly, war is hell. In my younger days, I would have thrown myself into whatever sweet debaucheries I could discover to keep from thinking of what was to come. The distractions helped, on some scale. But now...I have loved ones aboard the Miranda. Yes, I cared for shipmates before this, but now...it's a different life. I don't fear for myself--I know the Great Mother will welcome me into her arms when it is my time. It's the loss of others that I dread more than my own passing. It's selfish, but it's the truth. I know that my sickbay crew is the best in the fleet. I have excellent surgeons, a nursing staff second to none, and the best medical technology this side of Yonada.

We are ready to face what is coming. We've save all that we can, and pray that the sacrifice of those we cannot will satisfy the darkling gods that love battle enough to end this war before it truly gets going. May the Great Mother protect us all.....

Sciences Log Compilation

************************

USS GALAXY:
***********

"Science Department Offline. Command and Operational protocols transferred to Lt. Commander Spa'an stationed on board the USS Miranda for duration of mission at ch'Rihan."

[Kylee has gone on hiatus for the duration of the crossover due to school and personal obligations]

---

USS MIRANDA:
************

Lt. Cmdr. Spa'an
Chief Science Officer
USS Miranda

Chief Science Officer's log, supplemental . . . .

I have completed assignment of all departmental personnel, applying the specific expertise and interests of each officer as neccessary for the particular needs of the current mission.

Lietutenant Commander K'rn and Lieutenant Sheridan have been dispatched to Romulus to participate in efforts to establish suitable sites for displaced citizens and refugees from around the Empire. With their experience in Geosciences and Archaelogy, respectively, I believe they will make significant contributions to the task.

I have assigned Lieutenant T'Vah and Ensign th'Choen the task of applying their knowledge in the biological disciplines to the analysis of Hydran physiology. As our data in this area is extremely limited, I have instructed them to work closely with Romulan scientists and the science departments of the other Federation task force vessels to pool their knowledge. It is unknown at this time to what use their findings, if any, could be applied, but it is logical to assume that any discoveries or insights will not be without merit.

Following her unexpected request to meet with Dr. Tk'ceshkam on Romulus, Lieutenant Ampete remains on the planet to continue her research in advanced probe design, where she will undoubtedly find a way to make use of academic facilities to further her efforts.

Ensign T'Ashaya continues her research on of Romulan marine life on the planet.

I have for the moment completed my analysis of the Hydran probe and reported my findings to Commander Jaxom. Duty has thus far prevented me from conferring with the other Science department chiefs in the task force, a situation I would hope to remedy. First, however, I have affairs of a personal nature to attend to on Romulus, if I am able to avail myself of an opportunity to go to the planet's surface.

SFFC Log Compilation

********************

USS GALAXY:
***********

CAG's Log, Stardate 60609.09. Corran Rex, Recording.

The order's been given on a full deployment. I've assigned Flight Officer Lansky as XO to Saber Squadron, and Angel as that squads three flight lead. Hopefully they'll balance Kol out.

We temporarily delayed launch while Saul's tech geeks add some "eye in the sky" equipment to our ships. We're not going to have time to configure everything, however - this "Ensign Eve" of his is going to have to do that in the black, networked in from my fighter. I've got my reservations, but I know we need all the intel we're going to get, and from a fighter, that's going to be a unique perspective.

Hope it helps. End log."

----

USS MIRANDA:
***********

Miranda CAG (Mitchell) Personal Log, Stardate 60609.07

"This is aggravating. First this damn indictment crap, now I'm told I can't fly with my pilots because I'm not *technically* certified for combat action in the Rogues. I wonder if the JAG will try and charge me with not breaking the law to be with my squad regardless? Frak them. I'm taking an AWACS up anyways. I may not be able to get involved with the real action up there above the planet, but I can at least take some part on the planetary defense.

"It took some real manhandling of the Enriov to at least get singularity ghost frequencies for the fighters so we don't get taken down by the passive network. I had no time or patience to supply him with the warp signature codes and frequencies of the craft. It would take too long to input into their system, and then if the planet falls, the damn Hydrans would have all that, too. Not a chance. I had to guarantee the self-destruction of all our equipment and craft if and when they fall to the advance, though. That'll be an expensive replacement, but a worthy trade.

"With all the capital ships arriving in the system, most of the CAPs have brought a rotation of pilots down to the surface for checking in and receiving assignments. A lot of them are green and never seen space or aerial combat outside a simulator before. I've tried to include at least one Romulan Scorpion for every pair of our own pilots assigned planet-side to form a three-man wing. Some have gotten two. Riov Jelok would have it no other way. He's a bit of a prick. We'll see how he shows up in battle.

"As for the Marine deployments, I've made sure they all have an active three-person CAP with or near them at all times. Arvelion better make sure he does his job, that's all I gotta say. I'll be watching closely."

----

Squadron Leader Log, Renegades - USS MIRANDA
Major Véronique St Melisande

Stardate 60609.15 - USS MIRANDA

Full mobilisation is ready, I'm finding it hard with some of the intel that is dribbling through, huge space monsters - bah.

The Corsairs are being readied for independent operation, this is sounding a lot like when we lost Survivor. I'm getting all the same vibes. The same bad vibes!

Oh, shit - who the fuck is Major Matasuko and why do they have the right to fucking down Mitchell. Sure he turned into virtual crispies on his first trans-atmospheric re-entry emergency. But he passed, by the skin of his two front teeth, but he qualified. When I'm out of this and crawl up this Major's ass - not enough time on 'SAT G NOPs' I had two weeks to get him to qualify. He qualified! End of story.

Renegade been put on the CAP, we've got A45: 17 - 138. Damn puts us right on the edge, but then that is where Renegade does its best work. We'll be one of the first, when the Hydrans stick there nose in, we'll be shooting it off.

Hot damn.

XO/SO Log Compilation

*********************

USS GALAXY:
***********

First Officer's Log, USS Galaxy Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara

Stardate 60609.19

"All chiefs have reported in on their departments' combat readiness. I'll let their reports speak for themselves, but I will say this: I'm impressed. The odds are stacked against us, but we've done all we can to prepare for the coming conflict.

"Tension among the crew is high, as expected. You don't need to be a telepath to figure that out. But they're...we're all Starfleet through and through...we've been trained for this kind of situation. I have no doubt that every last crewman, from the seasoned veterans down to the raw recruits, will perform to the utmost of their abilities.

"Not much else remains to be said. We're not the first to stand against such odds, and we certainly won't be the last. But stand we will. It's all we can do.

"Computer...end log." -----

USS MIRANDA:
************

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom

==Bridge==

"First officer's log, supplemental. War? What is it good for? The answer is as old as the question. Here we are about to defend, or at least try to, one of our former sworn enemies. When I first joined Starfleet, if someone would have came up and said 'in so many years you'll be defending the Romulans against the Hydrans' I would have said 'Yeah, right. You're high.'"

"Yet here we are today ready to do just that. Will we live through it? Right now it looks as if we're facing an overwhelming force. The Hydrans have a 'secret weapon'. Can we overcome it? Either we will or we'll die trying. Nothing is certain at this point."

"Admittedly, the only thing that comforts me now is the fact that I've seen this ship and this crew overcome worse odds. I'm charged up and ready for action but at the same time I'm not all that crazy about dying. I haven't felt like this since the Dominion War."

"An old Terran military general once said, 'the idea is not to die for your country but to make your enemies die for theirs.'"

"Well, we're damn sure gonna try."

---

Second Officer's Log - USS MIRANDA Commander Felicia Khatroweena

Stardate 60609.10 - Romulus

The current morale of many of the bureaucracy here on the planet is very low. I still find it amazing that rumour can move so fast. Fact or fiction, many of the Romulans that were only a couple days before, full of pride of their race and disdain for the Federation, now are looking for some form of reassurance from the same that they held in disdain. Damn the official propaganda - the short time I have spent with them has proven more to me than any words from Ambassador Spock.

The Romulans are a people and many of them are scared for their families, their friends and lastly themselves.

Gretanis Doranis, a Romulan civilian in the Romulan Defence Forces had offered me a very subtle bribe, one that I was able to ignore with the interruption of her children entering the room. A 'bribe' I found very hard to ignore, she wanted me to take her children with me, to the Miranda.

Due to restrictions of travel...

Corporal Leganzo of the Marines, has me heads down behind the official vehicle, it seems some of the population see us as the cause of the problem, or at least getting rid of us, will rid them of the problem. We are under fire from a sniper; he is sending some of his men and the Romulan escort to deal with the person.

This is not a good sign, it is showing the crack in the population, they will need to be together.

They got the sniper, she is alive and is being taken to the local hospital for treatment. But there are reports of more and more violence around the city. Transport isn't available, so it looks like I'll be a little late to my next meeting.

Intel Log Compilation

*********************

USS GALAXY:***********

Lt. Bental, CIO Log Stardate 60609.09

Lt. Bental, CIO Log Stardate 60609.09

* * *

To: Intelligence/USS Galaxy

From: Lieutenant Saul Bental/Intelligence/USS Galaxy

Subject: Batch 50609.09

Classification: Department - restricted

*

PROJECT: Chimera's Bite

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Ensign Zev Raynor

CLASSIFICATION: Commonwealth, need to know

'Chimera's Bite ' is the name given by SFI HQ to the Romulan second galae's defeat by the hands of the Hydrans.

The project's aim is to obtain as much information on the defeat as possible, in order to help Tactical factors devise counterplans for future engagements with the Romulans.

Supplemental: Attached is medium-range footage of the combat. Its classification was recently downgraded, but I and a selected number of department members were aware of this for several days now. Nonetheless, the data is still very sensitive, and should not be discussed or revealed to any officer outside the intelligence department.

Any input in the matter of the Hydran starbeast, new technology, or tactics is welcome and should be directed to Zev and myself.

*

PROJECT: Instrumentality

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Ensign Eve

CLASSIFICATION: Commonwealth, fleet commanding officers, fleet Marine and fighter factors, need to know

Based on standing orders given to the department when the Galaxy was first ordered to head to Cheron, passive intelligence measures should be used in order to refresh our databanks on ch'Rihan and the star empire.

Right now, the Galaxy acts as a passive listening post, automatically intercepting transmissions sent to and from the planet.

The next step of the project is to install surveillance devices on the fleet's fighters and marine combat gears.

This motion ran into unexpected resistance, mainly from the Miranda's marine CO and CAG, but also from the Miranda's intelligence department. The Miranda does not have the same standing orders as ours (having been dispatched to protect ch'Rihan).

A compromise is being worked on, but I expect it to be extremely limiting.

As a side note, relations with the Romulans are prioritized ABOVE project instrumentality, and diplomatic incident should be avoided at all cost.

Thus, extra caution and discretion is used when deciding which toold to utilize in order to obtain the desired intelligence, and the use of active measures (such as bugging Romulan commlines or eavesdropping on the Romulan

ambassador) are strictly prohibited.

*

PROJECT: Tripod Dreams

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Lieutenant Bental

CLASSIFICATION: Commonwealth

Being cut off from SFI's central research factors (since any communication back to earth could be compromise now that we're so deep into Romulan territory), the department is going to conduct some intelligence research on its own, in attempt to understand the motives behind the Romulan assault.

Any input or opinion regarding this matter is more than welcomed.

*

PROJECT: Transparent Blanket

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Ensign Dupont

CLASSIFICATION: Commonwealth, Fleet ground forces (officers)

As the first vessel to arrive to ch'Rihan since the Titan, the Galaxy currently posses the most up-to-date information on ch'Rihan (see:

Instrumentality). As such, Ensign Dupont is responsible for providing Starfleet forces on ch'Rihan surface with any operational information

required: Geographical, political, local forces distribution, etc.

Supplemental: All data required by Miranda personnel is to be approved and authorized by myself prior to being transmitted. No unregulated outgoing intelligence until further notice.

*

PROJECT: Spotted Vendetta

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Lieutenant Bental

CLASSIFICATION: Department, need to know

PRIORITY: Low

The Intelligence department continues to participate in the hunt for Lt.Commander McCauley, the traitor who drove the USS Akula onto the Trill capital Leran Manev last year.

*

PROJECT: Virgo

OFFICER IN CHARGE: Lieutenant Bental, Ensign Novitz

CLASSIFICATION: Department

Three fourth year cadets were recently assigned to the department, and will spend most of their academic year on board as trainees.

Anyone who wishes to participate and their training is welcome to contact me. Past experience in babysitting is an advantage but not a must.

*

On a personal note, I don't need to tell you we're in for a challenge. Our lives depends on what we'll know of the Hydrans' tactics, technology and objectives once they warp into the systems with Hellbores blazing.

Concentrate, collaborate, do your best, and we'll have optimum chances to succeed.

------

USS MIRANDA:
************

"Intelligence Department Offline. Command and Operational protocols temporarily transferred to Lt. Saul Bental stationed on board the USS Galaxy for duration of mission at ch'Rihan."

SFMC Log Compilation
********************

USS GALAXY:
***********

Log of: 2nd LT Ward, Gregory -ARC Field Operations Special Assualt Squad dash Seven Seven Nine Code Name: Foxhound

*Begin*

This is the field log of Greg Ward, callsign "Snake" of Advance Recon Commando unit Foxhound. In the last several hours things have been interesting to say the least. According to intel passed down it seems that the Hydrans are using somekind of biologic weapon or something that tore through an entire fleet in a matter of moments, I know that Enigma R and D would be chomping at the bit for that kind of weapon information.

I've talked with a collegue of mine on the Miranda and she informed me that during the Mir's trip outside of the quadrant, she was able to obtain one Hydran fighter, possibly an offshoot of their "Stinger" line from what the Old Man would say. My squad is to be working in conjunction with the Miranda's Hazard Team to obtain intel to help with the defense of the Romulan capital.

My squad has performed above and beyond the call of duty over the course of the last few months, following the incident at Deep Space Five through the recent events on Cheron, I feel that my squad is more than capable enough to handle whatever the Triad throw at us and I still feel proud and humble enough that the OSS feels that it can draw it's personnel from my beloved corps. Oo-Rah!

On a slightly more personal note, I am full of nothing but respect for the men, women, shen, zhen and what have you of the various beings here that have pulled together in order to hold the line, Director. Despite feelings that the Galaxy's marines are the "Kid Brother Detachment", I can see why Colonel Arvelion was chosen with the difficult task that lays before him. He's a fighter and if it comes to a ground battle, I would be honored to stand back to back with him.

Despite the whole "Legend" status that has been pushed upon people like Captain Picard, Admiral Murdock and others like him. From what I was able to see of Captain Summers is that he is a very caring and professional man-much like Roland Flowers was before his death in the Cardassian War. However I do think that the beard is a bit much..is it the new mullet as Tucker would say or did I miss something involving fashion yet again?

I spoke with former Major Jacob Striker who like myself served on the Beowulf prior to our different assignments. I was surprised to see him now a SFFC Flight Officer and he explained to me the whole situation with Lieutenant Commander Sil'vana. I need to know if our intel on her is still upto date or is she no longer on the NID watch list? Something about her still bugs me, years later you know?

I better get to the meat of my log huh?

Situation Report: SAS-779 is ready and able to complete mission objectives of the ARC Program. This is our first major engagement with elements of the Triad, namely forces of the Hydrans, which I am fully confident that we will be able to handle what ever they may throw at us.

I am however, formally requesting that all other avaible ARC units be sent to the Romulan homeworld in order to back us up in case things get truly fugly as one my ARCs would say. As the Senior Operative of the Program, I also feel that the time to speed up all ARC training programs has finally arrived as the so called "Time Buffer Zone" that the Director stated we would have has just disappeared, just like the Old Man said it would and with respects to the Director, he's not the Old Man nor has his experience in this field.

I feel right now, the original motto of the ARC Program fits more than ever in this case.

Una Salus Victus...The one hope of the doomed....

----

USS MIRANDA:
************

"The Preparations" Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

==========================================

"Battalion Deployment Log, Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion reporting.

We've only recently arrived in force, the enemy has yet to land, and already we've sustained casualties. Nineteen of my Mariness have been injured, as of my last update several were critically so, and although expected to recover are unlikely to be able to join the battle.

In addition, the Task Force has been deploying considerable reinforcements, making a quick escape all but impossible now given the size of our force.

As a result, the plan of battle has also needed to change. A security detachment known as the 'Last Chancers Regiment' reported for assignment to the western approach, just outside the first circle of fortification around the city. Apparently their Commanding Officer had assigned them with the express intention of giving them the most dangerous assignment. Can't say I think much of the officer that gave 'that' order... it's one thing to require of your troops putting themselves in harms way... it's quite another to specifically seek to cause them hell as this case seems to be. They have quite a reputation, for fighting almost fanatically... and to that end I've assigned the entirety of Delta Company to reinforce, and indeed monitor, their actions.

Our Combat Engineers have done an amazing job in a myriad of tasks. Working with our Romulan counterparts, they've surveyed the defense systems to insure their readiness, have wired the three major causeways into the city's core to be demolished if need be, and have contributed significantly to the Civil Affairs mission we, until about twenty minutes ago, were engaged in.

Currently they're finishing wiring the suspected enemy landing zones and avenues of approach with mines in support of the new mission plan.

The new plan has required a redeployment of much of our forces which are currently in the city. With Delta supporting the Last Chancers, I've ordered Charlie to secure the northern pass as a blocking force, incase the Hydrans 'attempt' to encircle the city. Bravo remains defending the fire base and landing zone, while I've stayed with Alpha securing the western sector with sundry Romulan formations to the best of our abilities. The 188th has been tasked with securing the Eastern approach to allow for movement of the VIPs, which has begun, and to help the Romulans in that sector maintain the peace.

The rioting has been unbelievable. It remains quelled, for now... though I wonder if these people even realize what they're doing? Sure there is plenty of reason to be mad, but now is time to recognize the common enemy before them and unite. I guess stratification in this society runs far too deep for that.

The remaining forces, contributed from various ships of the task force, are being deployed to help facilitate relationships with our Romulan counterparts, and to occupy the most defensible positions around the city.

By cutting access to the major transportation routes we've guaranteed they'll have to cross in waves... using their own hover-vehicles to ferry infantry over. Hopefully, this will make things far more managable, and give us enough of a force ratio boost to hold the city. We're arranging a mobile defense, which will offer us the opportunity to counter-strike if things go very 'very' well... and break down by squad for guerilla actions in the event they do. All units have been issued standing orders, and in the event it becomes obvious the city will fall, breaking into squads for small unit action is our fall back plan. Given our limited time remaining, I doubt evac will be possible... but the VIPs are being moved with Romulan assistance. Some are more stubborn than others... and I must say on a personal note I can respect that.

Less importantly, we've been receiving telemetry from the orbiting ships to help organize the defense, and surprisingly the SFFC is providing air-cover.

My hope is they can obliterate as much of the landing force as possible, and our guns can knock out the craft that do touch down fast enough to gravely damage the invasion force. All artillery stations have been directed to fire line of sight, I don't want to risk downing our own pilots... though the Romulans have yet to issue the same order as far as I know.

I've entrusted a squad from every company with search and rescue missions in the event any of our fighters do get knocked down. They've been instructed to rescue the pilot, and destroy the fighter as thoroughly as possible. We don't need anything falling into Hydran hands... computer switch over to manual entry."

'Admittedly, there's a knot in my stomach. Despite the recent progress, I can't shake the feeling that this is going to be the worst fighting we've seen since Vulcan. I can only hope our increased training regimens will lead us to a better outcome. I wonder if this is how Napoleon felt before his Russian campaign, or Waterloo, or how Custer felt during his last stand.'

Security Log Compilation
************************

USS GALAXY:
***********

Chief Security Officer's Log, Supplemental

There's talk of war coming and going all over the ship. It is making the security staff nervous, and I for one am among them. I've read reports on what the new Hydran threat has done to the Romulans, and they have every right to be nervous. Do I doubt that this ship is ready though? Hardly. The crew seem to go about their business with the same professionalism. It seems we're as ready as we can be on this crisis.

My own security staff is ready, but aside from Lieutenant's Krieghoff, Marsh and myself, most of my staff have either not been in a major conflict or have been shipped off to other assignments. What I have left is inexperienced by wartime standards. They will have to do.

I will set up some drills to keep them ready. A few security scenarios, some red alert drills, and a good deal of target practice ought to help, but only a real fight will show if they are good enough. Do not get me wrong though! I don't want a ship to ship fight. I've had enough of that during the war! But you have to be prepared for that reality. I don't have any doubts that the men and women of my department will be able to fight if it comes to it. What experienced personnel we have will be teaching the newbies our tricks so that they are ready.

I have been called by the Captain of the USS Thunderchild to visit their ship while they are in the sector. Captain JP Albrect remembers me, though I hardly remember him much further than being a cold hearted bastard that doesn't mind throwing bodies into the maw of death. As much as I do not like it, I will go over there. It is supposed to be for extra credit on my command officer's training, so how can I refuse?

I will leave the security department in the capable hands of my more experienced crew. Krieghoff will have to take lead while i'm off ship. He is good on his own but I have my doubts about him being an effective leader. Nonetheless, I will have to find out by giving him this responsibility. Lets hope that he makes the most of it.

-------------

USS MIRANDA:
************

Chief of Security's Log, USS Miranda, Stardate 60609.17

*****

I am forced to admit that I cannot push my department any further for battle; they are as prepared as they will ever be (or as much as my mek'leth can persuade them in some cases).

I suppose that I'm concerned because I have not seen some of the newer security officers, such as Krel or Soval, in combat and Academy scores or points against a holographic opponent do not count, unless, of course, they are mine. It has been pointed out that expecting the ship to be boarded is somewhat negative of me but if anything I have learned that the warrior that lets their guard down is a dead one.

Incidentally, I have been told that the reconstruction of Detective West's nose went very smoothly.

On a personal note, I am very glad that I do not have a secretary. I hear Corgan's newest recruit is someone I'd likely kill if they worked for me. I must make a note to tell Samantha that I *do* have a secretary.

Tactical Log Compilation
************************

USS GALAXY:
***********

"Tactical Department Offline. Command and Operational protocols transferred to Lieutenant Shiarrael t'Khnialmnae stationed on board the USS Miranda for duration of mission at ch'Rihan."

---

USS MIRANDA:
************

Tactical Log, USS Miranda Lieutenant Shiarrael t'Khnialmnae, Chief Tactical Officer

Things have been less chaotic in the tactical department than I've seen elsewhere. We always have a concrete mission in place before us: the safety and defense of the United Star Ship Miranda NCC 77000 - B. Security handles internal strife amongst the crew, engineering makes sure everythign is running smoothly, but Tactical's goal always and forever will be doing our damndest to ensure as little harm comes to the personnel and equipment that make up our home and comunity, be it with phasers, torpedoes, shields, and even the ocasional judicious usage of a well placed tractor beam.

As of the end of our last venture out into the unknown, several shifts within the department structure occured. This is my first mission as Department Head, and needless to say my preference for the chain of command left a sour taste within the department. Lieutenant K'aa is a fine and capable officer and Daniels is quickly coming into his own. I have yet to see Ens Kolath, our newest tactical officer and a klingon, in action so I cannot say much for sure about him. However, if his racial heritage is any indication, he will be a formidable asset in the heat of battle.

While investigating the graveyard, prior to the borg attack, K'aa, resourcefull as ever, had a hydran fighter brought onboard the Miranda for study. While it has not revealed much in the way of Hydran technological advances, he, Daniels, and a select team from both Miranda and Galaxy have come up with a way for two of the crew to pilot the design to try to aquire more intelligence on our enemy. As yet, we have not heard back from the mission but I know all have the departed crew in their thoughts.

Also of note is the tactical conference held here on the Miranda. The tactical staffs of our assembled fleed were invited and most ships dispatched a knowledgable representative. Broached were many topics, of which include possible armament variations and questions concerning operations for when we DO encounter the "starbeast."

'Hollow point' torpedoes is an intriuging concept. I am constantly amazed at the sheer diversity of Terran weaponry, the species is as good at devising ways of killing a person as any Rihannsu Tal'Shiar is at thinking of new torture techniques, or a klingong at new ways to cave in the skull of an opponent in battle. Still, though the idea has some small amount of merit it is not feasable to design or produce any at the moment. The Hydran fleet has emerged in system and is on aproach.

Also an idea is polaron beam weapons. Though we do not currently poses capital grade devices, I am certain that it would not be dificult, with the proper aplication of resources, to aquire some for future engagements, should this initial encounter bode poorly.

Coordination has been made with the fleet: Miranda's Combat Informaton Center is to be the hub of large scale tactical and strategic coordination. No other ship posesses facilities of the like.

All in all, the Tactical Department stands ready to do their duties. I myself will be up to the bridge shortly, and K'aa and Daniels have the CIC well in hand.

"Snapshots"

LtJG Chris Daniels, Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

C1C Ezri Daniels, Engineering Midshipman, USS Miranda

CPO Seran Aerk, CIC Duty Chief, USS Miranda

Commander Roval, Romulan Naval Intelligence

3 days ago

Soccer Fields, USS Miranda
==========================

How he was finding time to coach kids soccer in the midst of a brewing crisis was beyond him, but it was almost like therapy. A totally innocent escape from reality. The situation at hand was eating at everyone except these kids, who didn't have a care in the world. And this was the point of having practice before battle. Keep the kids in a normal frame of mind. Finally, the practice ended and Chris brought them together. Only then did it strike him that these young 10 year olds were just as in danger as him, except they hadn't volunteered for it.

"Mr. Daniels," one of the young human boys asked, "What's war?"

Chris was a bit surprised. How did he answer THAT? "Joey, war is when two groups don't like each other and they fight over something until one wins."

"I heard my mommy talking and she said there's one coming. Why?"

Chris paused. "Cuz our friends got in trouble and we have to help them."

"Why?"

He huffed. He tried to say his next comment scowling. "Cuz that's what good friends do, Joey."

****

Weapon Maintenance Facility
===========================

Ezzie was finally beginning to understand why Chris was always so busy. With the ship ramping up for battle she was being plugged more and more into teams to make sure that certain systems were all set for the engagement. Today it was testing to make sure the blown phaser relays were good to go. Everything looked OK.

One of the Petty Officers walked over to her. "Ever been in a fight, Midshipman?"

Ezzie shook her head. "Nope, Reckon that won't stand much longer though."

The PO nodded. "Looks like you picked a doozie to get broken in on..."

****

2 Days Ago

Combat Information Center Deck 7
======

The CIC looked like a crowded train station. Officers from all over the assembled task force were gathered around the stations and tables, making comments and viewing simulations. They had just finished the latest situation drill, with Chris overseeing the operation from the slightly higher observation rail near the entrance. The drill had gone fine, it seemed that the CIC conversion from single ship to fleet coordination had gone perfectly, and the ships and their crews were as ready as they were going to get. Another drill would start when K'aa arrived. For this one, Chris would take over the Combat Control station. A relatively new job for him, he'd be observing and feeding information to the rest of the battlegroup throughout the fight. More likely than not, this would be where he would end up during a battle.

He leaned his elbows against the rails, and he felt a familiar presence next to him. "Doesn't seem real, does it Aerk?"

The Chief looked back at him. "No, LT...it seems perfectly real. That's what scares me."

Chris smirked. "I guess I never did the whole fear thing very well."

Aerk just shook his head in a knowing manner, then turned back to his officer. "At least that's one of us..Just lead your kids well during this one, LT..you know it's gonna be a grinder, and we need you to do your job. You'll be fine."

Chris smiled. "Thanks Chief." This would be the third time he would ride the Miranda into combat versus an enemy that statistically, they had no right going up against. The previous two times the lady had brought him home safely. He could only hope that in this case the third time wasn't a charm.

****

Main Engineering
================

"NO, get that fire suppressant down on that coil!"

The shouts and din of the damage drill were yet another new experience for young Ezzie. Today it was a fire control evolution near the matter injection port. Not that she had really doubted it, but it was starting to hit home for her that this wasn't just practice anymore.

When the drill was done, she sat down on a bench, wiping sweat from her brow. He red streaked brunette hair was a mess and she had managed to tear her jumpsuit's back, so at present, she wasn't the best sight to behold.

An Ensign tossed her a towel. "Might wanna go clean up, Cadet."

She took the towel graciously and tried to dry out her hair. "How often do we practice on the real thing?"

The Ensign stopped. "Oh, only when the shit's really gonna fly. When we fought the alter-Vulcans we still only drilled in the holo-sims."

****

Athletic Facilities
===================

Chris didn't think he had it in him to beat Ezzie in a run at this point. He was so out of shape, but had somehow managed to outlast her in a half mile. She was only two steps behind, but still, his older brother pride kicked in to make sure he was first.

After several more half mile sets, they were done, and Chris tried to catch his breath while his sister did a cool down. Once he could talk, and she was back, he approached her.

"You write home?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I tried not to scare them too much. Did you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You ready for this?"

The confidence ebbed from her face for a few seconds. "How bad is it, Chris?"

He stopped and thought of how to word the answer. He shook the sweat off first. "Well, we're going up against a fleet that has superior numbers, a secret weapon, and momentum. We have dated intelligence and a small fleet plus a collapsing planet under us. I've seen worse."

She looked at him. "I'm nervous, Chris."

"Ezzie, we all are. You'd be nuts if you weren't. Part of this life is getting past that fear and doing your job. I've got to fight the ship. You have to fix what my guns can't protect. Just keep calm, do what they tell you and for God sakes don't be a hero...run like the rest of us if it goes to hell."

She smiled. "Always overprotective."

"Why change now?"

There was a few seconds of pause. Then he started talking again. "I have to go planetside for a day. I have a ...contact down there. Need to see if he's got any intel on the bad guys."

She nodded. "Be careful. And get your butt back to the ship before the fight's on, OK?"

He smiled. "Wouldn't miss it."

****

Present Day

Main Engineering
================

Ezzie saw the ship lights dim and the Klaxon blare. She looked over at a JG who simply nodded. "Game time, Ezzie. Get up for it."

****

Back Alley Somewhere on Romulus
====================

"Nothing?"

"No. Our data recorders picked up very little useful information from the battles."

"You better not be shitting me, Commander. This is just as much for your benefit as it is for mine."

"You think I'd be so bold to withold information from our allies on the eve of the collapse of my empire?"

"Your race hasn't been known for its trustworthy traits over the years."

"Point taken. All I can tell you is keep moving."

"Keep moving?"

"Their targeting scanners seem. SEEM...to have trouble keeping lock on fast moving capital ships. We're not sure about fighters."

"So should we get close?"

"I'm not sure. Data suggests--"

===Miranda to Lieutenant Daniels. Sir, the ship has gone to Battlestations and you are needed in the CIC immediately.===

==Copy that. Direct beam to the CIC in 1 minutes.==

===Acknowledged, Sir===

"I have to go help save your sorry race's collective...so any other information you think may be helpful?"

"Don't provoke the Starbeast."

"That's it?"

"My apologies."

"I doubt that. Don't you go to far. I'll be back."

"One can only hope. Elements go with you, Lieutenant."

"You all better be worth fighting for."

"Presenting the case"

[this is the second in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN Chief Counselor/Second Officer

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security  
Second Lieutenant Branwen London Furies Executive Officer/Counselor USS Galaxy - A  

Bran was sitting in the waiting room of the JAG officer. It was the first time she had ever been here and she would never have thought that she would be bringing a charge against another officer. Anyone other than Baile that was. She hoped this JAG person would be nice and understanding and not judge her too harshly.

Faylin opened the door, motioning in a lovely manner to the lone officer sitting in the waiting room. Offering her a seat opposite of McAlister's desk, she gently closed the door.

The door chime rang, and as Faylin opened the door, Karyn looked apologetic. "Hello, I'm Commander Karyn Dallas. I apologize for being late, but I needed to re-arrange my schedule for this. I'm here to offer Branwen emotional support." The hover chaired counselor had hoped to meet their new JAG officer under better circumstances, but she was glad Branwen had come to her.

"Great Commander. Your expertise will be apprechiated here." Inwardly, she was relieved that the counselor made an appearence. Sexual assult or battery of any kind was difficult to comprehend, yet easy to apply justice for.

Dallas entered and settled her hoverchair beside Branwen, taking the young woman's hand and squeezing it for support. "Sorry I'm late."

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thank you ma'am." Branwen said looking around uncomfortably. Dallas simply shook her head and smiled her thanks.

"Alright." Some, when they came into her office, had an air of uncertainty about them. This woman was one. "What can I help you with?"

"Uhm.. I... I wish to report sexual abuse by another officer, from the Miranda." She looked at the floor.

Faylin glanced over at the counselor, then back to the woman. "Can I have your name and rank please?"

"Second lieutenant Branwen London, SFMC ma'am." She continued softly.

"Did you report the abuse to the Miranda yet?"

"No ma'am." Still looking at the floor.

"An initial report needs filed with security, so, after we are done here, I will escort you to our security offices...or, I can have a fellow officer come by now." Faylin stated softly.

"Could they come here." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Maybe I shouldn't, maybe I shouldn't have come, I don't want everybody knowing." She started to rise.

"Yes, they can come here. I know just the woman to take the report. And....please, you need to stay. Everyone will not know. The security officer I'm bringing up is very respectful of issues of this magnitude." She tapped her com. "McAlister to O'Hare."

"O'Hare. Can I do something for you Ensign?"

The voice of the former counselor turned security officer was familiar to Karyn, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of deja vu, having helped Elaine O'Hare under similar cicumstances several years earlier.

"Yes, I need you in my office now."

"On my way."

Turning back to Branwen, she offered a small smile. Inwardly, she had to wonder what was going on with the recent reports of sexual assault.

The marine was still looking like she was going to cry any moment. But at least she was not moving away.

A few minutes past, mostly in silence and uncomfortable looks until the red headed security officer bounded in. "Hey Faylin." Looking to her side, she offered the counselor a cheesy, yet respectful grin. Her old department head still looked the same, and it was unfortunate that they had not been able to catch up in a while.

"Karyn."

Dallas offered a nod. "Hello, Elaine. Thanks for coming."

"No problem." She stated in O'Hare fashion.

"Soooo, Ensign McAlister, what can I do for you on such short notice?" She knitted her eyebrows as she viewed the woman that was upset. "Are you okay?" Elaine asked.

"No ma'am. Not really." Bran said softly. "I .. I .. I am here about sexual abuse." It was still difficult to talk about it to these strangers who would probably not understand any of it.

O'Hare paused for what seemed to be a very extended minute. She glanced over at Dallas, with a concerned, yet knowing look on her face. Her experience in this area had been unique to say the least. Recalling the memories brought up by the topic of this group rendered her feeling rather helpless to help the woman. Sighing heavily, she brought her padd up to take the information needed for the report.

Branwen watched her and saw the sigh. "I am sorry to bother you with this. It was my own fault, ma'am. I should have said no. But.." She bit her lip.

"It's okay." McAlister offered. "Why don't you tell us all what happened?"

O'Hare perked up, upon hearing that 'I should have said no'. "Excuse me....what species assaulted you?" Elaine was notorious for not being patient. Anyone that had a run in with the security officer knew that. The face of Shtik entered her mind, her eyebrows instantly knitting in past anger and hurt. His cool demeanour concerning the assault during Pon-Far always set her temper flaring. Shaking the memories, she waited for a response. Perhaps knowing the race would help comprehend why the woman did not say no. Did she think it? Elaine wondered to herself.

"Orion, ma'am." Branwen whispered.

"Orion." Elaine muttered to herself, jotting a note down on her padd.

"Orion?" Faylin questioned. "You stated you did not physically say 'no'. Correct? Did you say it in your mind at all?"

"I could not, I was hypnotised." Branwen said. "I even thought I was enjoying it."

Karyn wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "Evidence that she resisted isn't a required element to prove sexual assault, correct? I think pheromones might have been in play here."

"You are correct counselor. Especially when an Orion is involved. I personally have never had experience with this type of charge, however, there are statutes concerning this type of situation. This Orion is a Starfleet officer I assume?"

O'Hare turned her head towards Branwen. Her eyes shifted from the Marine to the JAG.

Branwen nodded.

"Alright. Okay." She sighed. "Now we are getting somewhere. Due to the fact that the person is a member of Starfleet, this will be easier to prosecute. What is the name of the accused? Er.....person that assaulted you?"

"Anjoli." She said. "That's all I know, and that she is a doctor."

"I thought because I was hypnotised it wasn't real. That I was somehow imagining it." Branwen whispered.

"You were not imagining it Branwen." Faylin stated. She glanced over at O'Hare, who was busy inputing information at the speed of light. Knitting her eyebrows, she glanced back over. "Here's the question for you that I need an 'official' answer on. Are you charging Doctor Anjoli with sexual assault and rape of your person?"

Branwen hesitated. "I don't know. She was nice, I mean... what if it was my own fault." She bit her lip. 'I am a marine, I should have been able to make her stop."

"But if you were under the influence of pheromones, how could you have stopped her?" The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Karyn given her own experiences with fembots and pheromones. Maybe God was trying to tell her something as the words fell out of her mouth so naturally.

"I guess they couldn't." Branwen said sheepishly.

Karyn met London's eyes. "Branwen, no one here is going to think less of you if you believed you were assaulted. But we can't put words in your mouth either. This has to be your decision."

"Yes... I want to press charges. I don't want her doing this to another person." She looked at the three women with conviction. "I will do what it takes."

"Fine." Faylin stated in a dead pan manner. Extracting paper copies out her desk, she presented them to Branwen. "I need these filled out as soon as possible, and I need you to sign a statement that Lt. O'Hare has in her possession now?"

Elaine nodded in an affirmative manner. "When you are ready."

"I will do it straight away, ma'am." Branwen said taking the papers.

McAlister turned to the women. "As soon as I get the paperwork and a copy of security's work, we are underway. Elaine? What happens after that?"

O'Hare sat up in her chair. "She...will be arrested and officiall charges will be pressed."

Faylin turned in her chair slightly. "Then, it will be my turn. Any other questions?"

"No, ma'am." Branwen said relieved.

"I believe in you"

[this is the third in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Anjoli D'Bari CMO Miranda

Gwen Parri, ACCO Miranda

Gwen came home after a long day at work.  Again she had heard several things about Anjoli. To be honest it worried her.  Strangely enough it wasn't even jealousy, she was worried.  In her own way her girlfriend could be pretty naive when it came to what others knew about sex.  So she was worried she had maybe gone too far with the Galaxy officer if the rumours were true.

"Sweetheart, are you home?"  She called out.

"I'm in here, Khadamia...." came the happy voice from the kitchen.  Anjoli was cooking dinner, it seemed. She had her big apron on....and nothing else.  Evidentally dinner was to be served under twin emerald moons.

Anjoli looked over her shoulder with a warm smile for her partner, working on something at the countertop..

"Tough day on your shift, Gwen ?"

“Hmmm not that bad.' Gwen gave her a kiss. Then hesitated. She didn't want to come across as jealous. ‘Hon, have you been seeing others lately?” She said in a neutral tone.

Anjoli thought about it, cutting up some vegetables for salad.

"No one new aboard the Miranda. I've actually stopped looking for new playmates of late. I'm happy with what I have."

Anjoli gave Gwen a mock pout.

"More work for you, it would appear....."

Gwen kissed her. “I am glad. Then it is just rumors.” She said relieved.

Anjoli sighed. Gossip was fun, until you were the subject of it. It didn't really matter to Anjoli--she was always the subject of rumor and inuendo, but it hurt Gwen and that bothered her.

"Why, what have you heard?"

“Oh nothing. No need to bother you with it if you haven't seen anyone.” She walked to the bedroom to change herself.

Frowning, Anjoli went over the last few weeks. There hadn't been anyone new...at least aboard the Miranda. But on shore leave....there had been that one human.

"Khadamia....was this encounter supposed to have been aboard the Miranda?

There was one Terran female back at Starbase. It was brief, and to be blunt--disappointing. I'll never seek her out again. She was unsophisticated where I thought she was simply playing a game."

Gwen turned round. “This wouldn't be a female Starfleet officer serving on the Galaxy, I hope?”

"I don't know. We were not together long enough to exchange resumes.

Honestly, I would barely call it an encounter." Anjoli sniffed with disappointment. "She was enjoying her little game of pretend hypnotist too much to share what skill she had, if any."

“Oh shit, Joli.” Gwen said. “There is a rumor flying around that a Galaxy officer is going to sue you for rape.”

Anjoli chuckled, still cutting vegetables for the dinner.

"That's quite amusing. I am certain that of all the terrible things in the lexicon of crime, accusing an Arrin'Halei of rape is the most laughable.

This is like accusing a Telarite of smelling good."

“Joli this is serious. You are a senior officer, you are doing well in your career. If this goes further it could harm you. I know you are innocent.

This is probably some kind of crazy woman. But you have to take it seriously.”

Anjoli stabbed a head of lettuce with her knife with a quiet growl of frustration..

"Trust me, Khadamia. Should this procede further than a stupid rumor, I will take it quite seriously indeed. But I am not the person to hide because of a snip of gossip. If I was, I never would have finished my first week at the Academy."

“I know.” Gwen gave her a hug. “If you are sure nothing happened then she cannot make a case. But let's go talk to the jag officer anyway shall we?

She is a nice person and she has helped us before.”

"Can we at least eat dinner first? I spent two hours cooking, and the shellfish won't keep very long?"

“Allright. I am just worried, love.” Gwen whispered. “Bout your career, I know it is important to you.”

Anjoli slipped her hands around Gwen , the chef's apron the only thing between them.

"Don't worry, light of my life. There's a war coming, and the last thing Starfleet will do is get rid of a physician of such vast experience and exquisite talent. If making a pass at the wrong person was all it took to get out of the service, I never would have spent the entire Dominion War seperating the living from the dead."

“I suppose so.” But Gwen was not so certain. Look at Mitchell for example, they were coming down on him.

"I should have known that woman would be nothing but trouble...." Anjoli said ruefully.

"I wrote her timid nature off as shyness. Perhaps she was more brain damaged or chromosomically challenged rather than just playing hard to get...."

“A braindamaged officer. It wasn't some kind of alien? What was she like?”

Anjoli gave her lover a smirk.

" Gwendolyn .....she *was* an alien--she was a Terran. But I like Terrans..some, a very great deal."

She gave Gwen a squeeze to emphasize her point.

“Good. You should stick to Welshwomen.” Gwen whispered in her ear. “They are safe.”

Anjoli purred softly with the intimacy.

"Not *that* safe......"

"This woman was acting far too innocent to be a Starfleet officer, a marine at that. I thought it was some kind of game."

Anjoli pinched the bridge of her nose.

"How could I be so frelling stupid....."

“It's okay. She is propably insane or something. Maybe we can have her dismissed from the service as unstable, hmmm.” She comforted her friend.

"She's a marine--insanity's a survival trait. I don't want to have her drummed out of the 'Fleet, I just want her not to bother you and me."

“Let's scare her half to death.” Gwen suggested. “Would give me an opportunity to use my self-defense lessons.”

Anjoli shook her head at the idea.

"My dearest, I would sooner see an original Frazetta painting burned as to see one hair on your lovely head mussed. Besides, you versus a combat trained marine with a personality disorder doesn't sound like a entertaining evening."

Anjoli delicately kissed Gwen on that pert nose.

"You're far too perfect to even let that...person near you. If she hurt you, I'd have to forget about my oath to heal and not harm."

“Can't have that. Maybe I can shrink her to death then? Marines hate shrinks, everyone knows that.”

Anjoli chuckled, looking into Gwen 's eyes.

"I know you could talk a Tellarite out of his dinner."

Anjoli felt better knowing that Gwen , despite all, was on her side in this.

"Do you know just how much I adore you?"

“You had better. Look how good I am being about this.” She nuzzled.

"How can someone be so perfect, yet so modest? I know I ask myself that question every day. How do *you* do it?"

Gwen snorted. “Me modest. Hell girl, you know the fights we had on this subject not that long ago?”

"My ears still ring from the cacophony....." Anjoli winced. For once, she looked genuinely contrite.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asked softly.

“Because I love you, I want to spend my life with you and have children with you.' Gwen said simply.

The typical egocentric attitude faded, and the true Anjoli peeked out.

"But...why? Why me? I do not deserve someone like you in my life."

“Yes you do. You are always there for me… always. You have helped me through a lot since we have been together. Least of which my jealousy issues. You deserve a great deal, my love.' She said tenderly.

"Of course, I am the root cause of your jealousy issues...."

“Yup, you were.” Gwen admitted.

Anjoli's finger softly traced Gwen 's lips with the gentleness of the brush of a butterfly's wing. She wanted to ask her an important question....but this was not the time. But soon.

The welsh woman enjoyed every moment of it, gently holding her lover. It was amazing, there was no jealousness at all. Just love, and concern for her soulmate.

Wordlessly, Anjoli turned and started leading Gwen by the hand towards the bedroom.

“Uhm aren't you forgetting you lovely dinner?” Gwen asked.

"Jag advice"

[this is the fourth in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Gwyin
Gwen
Anjoli

All Miranda officers

Gwen took Joli's hand while they were waiting in the Jag officers. "Remember this is the right thing to do. You have to defend yourself against this madwoman, sweet."   Anjoli was growing more agitated about the whole experience the more she thought about it. It was not just this cursed Terran woman that was causing the anger. She was also mad at herself for getting into this in the first place.   "Madwoman? Is that a councilor's professional opinion?" Anjoli sighed, but still giving Gwen 's hand a squeeze. The support was appreciated.   "Definitely." Gwen patted her back gently. Anjoli just leaned forward, trying to temper her feelings of the moment.   Gwyin walked out of her office and froze. " Gwen ?" She asked. "What's wrong?"   "It's Joli actually who is in trouble." She turned to her friend. "You want to tell the story yourself, love?" She asked softly.   "Certainly.....I have not embarrassed myself nearly enough today."   "ok.. lets go into my office" She stepped back to let the pair in.   Anjoli stalked into the office and sat down in one of the chairs. Her agitation was certainly out of character for any who knew the Arrin'Haleri .

  "Evidentially I am being accused of.....I can't even say it, the word is poison on my tongue."   Gwen gave her an encouraging hug to support her.   Anjoli, despite her anger, looked to Gwen with a moment of thanks. Of all that should be angry about this with Anjoli about this, Gwen was at the top of the list. Yet here she was, being typically kind. Anjoli knew she didn't deserve such a blessing.   "A marine on the Galaxy is saying that I somehow had....sexual congress... with her against her will. As if I would need to stoop to such treachery!"   Gwyin snorted in disgust. "Oh please, is the person stupid?" She had done research on Anjoli and   Gwen  to help with their case of having a child together.   "Exactly." Anjoli sniffed derisively. Clearly Gwyin was not just beautiful, but wise and insightful.   "Fine. Tell me everything from the start please." Gwyin pulled out a vocal recorder.   "Lets get this cleared up."   Gwen felt immense relief at Gwyin's initial reaction. The woman believed Joli totally.   "I met her at our last layover. She seemed nice. But she was....provincial. As if she had been raised by nuns or wolves or something equally corrosive to one's development. I wrote it off as some kind of personality defect. We talked a bit...."   Anjoli got up and studied the artwork on the wall. Anything but look at Gwen at the moment.   "She started playing a game...or what I thought was a game. She acted like I had hypnotized her or some such nonsense. I played along....and events...proceeded to their natural conclusion. Well, for her at least. I got precious little out of it. While she luxuriated in the afterglow, I decided to take my leave. I had shopping to do."   "She asked me to un-hypnotize her or some such nonsense. I told her the game was over and I had to go. I can't hypnotize people any more than I can go warp speed just on the awesome power of my flatulence."   "Granted, my pheromones can influence humanoid males and some females--but I take a medication that reduces their effect to near zero effect. My dosage is noted in my medical records."   "So that's where I left it. Then Gwen tells me there's a rumor afoot about me...raping someone."   Gwyin bit back a growl. "Hmm sounds like her case is a load of hot air." She said turning off the recorder.   "Anjoli. Sit down before you drive Gwen and me to distraction. We both know you well enough to know you did not do this. She never said No did she?"   "Absolutely not. Why would I force someone against their will to be with me? "  Her thoughts darkened her expression as she remembered her childhood memories of other slaves taken by their masters despite what they truly wanted. "I'm not a monster. I'm not."   Gwen nodded. "I heard it from someone who has friends on the Galaxy. It seems to be all over the place there. And my Joli is not a rapist. Silly little bitch." Gwen was still angry.   "I've heard more nasty comments than this, and to be blunt I could not care less for what is said about me. But I will not have Gwen tainted by this by proxy. She is without blame in this matter. She doesn't deserve any of this."   "Well then, if you can not hypnotize her and she never said no, then it was obviously consensual. Though her JAG officer might have a different opinion."   "I will cooperate in any way to resolve this, Gwyin."   "I know" Gwyin stood. She moved to Anjoli's side. "What I want you and Gwen to do is simple. Gather your friends, past lovers, hell even current ones. Tell them what's going on. Tell them to submit statements to my office. These statements have to be video recorded and true. If the child, for surely she has to be a child, does not drop the charges, I will need each and every one of those statements to help you. We all know you did not do it. But, if it goes to trial, I want to be prepared. Ok?"   Gwen nodded.  'I can do this. Thank you, Gwyin."   Anjoli pondered this for a long moment. She didn't wish to compromise those playmates, both current and past. that were concerned about their privacy. "How many statements do you need? I can contact any number you require...but time may be an issue."   "Just the ones from the Miranda and your last posting Joli will do fine" Gwyin said with a smile. "Friends who will write them as well will be appreciated. Also, your parents?"    Gwen squeezed her hand reassuringly. "That means none from me then. I have been faithful. But I have many ex partners from before I met Joli. But you don't want to hear from my mother.'   Gwyin laughed. "I meant Anjoli's parents."   "Phew. Thank god." Gwen laughed nervously.   Anjoli's thoughts were still on the statements. How many people could she protect and still secure victory? "Oh, Gwen's mother has been upset ever since someone dropped a house on her sister and stole her ruby slippers."   Gwen giggled. "No love lost there."   Gwyin laughed. "I will go over to the Galaxy tomorrow morning. And talk to the officer concerned and their JAG. But I really think you will be fine."

Anjoli nodded with all the confidence of the truly innocent.  "I know that I am in the best of hands, Gwyin. I....we...appreciate your efforts."

  “Yes we truly are. This is the second time you have helped us.” Gwen smiled.

  "Hey, its fine." Gwyin said with a smile. "now both of you go and rest ok? Things will be handled."

“Thank you.” Gwen said again.

"Meeting this brain addled person"

[this is the fifth in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Gwyin Jag officer Miranda

Branwen marine Galaxy

  Gwyin walked onto the USS Galaxy's Marine deck. "Excuse me?" She said tapping a passing Marine on the shoulder. "I am looking for Branwen" The man pointed towards a room. "Thank you."   She entered the room and found Marines everywhere. -Great- she thought. "Excuse me!" She called over the loud voices. "I am looking for   lieutenant Branwen London"   "That's me." Bran called out, curious to see a stranger looking for her. Bran had been working out with some of the grunts.   "I am Lt. Commander Narim'Malyki. From the USS Miranda. Their Jag Officer. Is there someplace we can talk?" Gwyin asked, ignoring the marines around her.   "Sure ma'am." Bran said respectfully. "Let's go to my office.' This had to be about the rape, she thought. "Hopefully that woman had been arrested by now and could pose no danger to other women anymore. She led the JAG officer to her marine office. "Please have a seat, ma'am."   Gwyin sat. "I know you have figured out why I am here." She said. She pulled out a vocal recorder labeled 'Case Anjoli/Branwen, 2354AB'   "I need to hear your side before an action can be under taken. After all, everyone is innocent until proven guilty."   "yes of course, ma'am." Bran said. "I already told the Galaxy JAG officer, she has the whole file. This woman seduced me and then hypnotized me into having sex with her. And I have been told she probably also used something like pheromones on me." Bran explained.   "You Were told that she used pheromones on you?" Gwyin said calmly. "And I am not the Galaxy JAG officer, I am the Miranda's. And you need to start from the beginning." She drew breath. "Who told you she used Pheromones on you?"   "Oh I guess several people did. My mentor, the JAG officer, maybe even Victor…  I had never heard of it. I thought it was just the hypnosis."   Gwyin watched the girl, for obviously this one was no grown person, carefully. "Why do you think she hypnotized you?"   "To rape me obviously. I think she must be a sex maniac. Or have some kind of personality disorder. I don't really wish her harm, but she needs to be helped and kept away from other people."   "Ok. Now please start from the beginning of that day. How you met the defendant and what happened."   Branwen blushed and again began the story of how they had met on the starbase and the woman had seduced her and then hypnotized her against her will .   Gwyin had a hard time keeping her temper. Anjoli was not what this girl described. She waited until the girl had finished. "I personally as a person, think you need to see a counselor. And as a JAG officer who has heard BOTH sides of the story, think you really need a counselor. Let me tell you this, Lieutenant."   She reigned in her temper, something Gwyin had never had before Haku's death "Anjoli, takes Medication. It drops her pheromone level to zero. Its reordered in her medical files. She does not know how to hypnotize people and if she did, then there would be a dozen or more cases like yours on Miranda. I hope you have a good lawyer, because I will be sending my recommendation that your case gets thrown out and will tell Anjoli to sue you for defamation of character. IF you continue, I will bring in so many people from Miranda as character witnesses for Anjoli, you will look like a little cry baby."   She stood, and picked up the cassette. "See a counselor, Lieutenant. Cause your JAG officer and your mentor.. and who ever Victor is, obviously have warped your mind." She moved to the door. "I would have thought Marines were stronger mentally." She swept from the office without another word. The JAG officer on the Galaxy was obviously in need of a swift fucking kick up the ass.   "Uhm…."  Branwen said. "I am a counselor."But the other woman was already gone. Time to see her lawyer again.

"Owing up"

[this is the first in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN

Chief Counselor/Second Officer

Second Lieutenant Branwen London

Furies Executive Officer/Counselor

USS Galaxy - A

When words weren't immediately forthcoming after she had granted her visitor permission to enter, Karyn looked up from her desk, askance.   ...and immediately felt the color drain from her features.  Branwen looked at her from the doorframe, appearing completely frozen in fear and anguish. Dallas' immediate thought was that someone close to all of them had died, then she remembered her last personal conversation with London.  Baile. *Grozit,* Karyn thought.   Dallas came around the desk and gestured for Branwen to come in and allow the doors to close for privacy.  "Branwen, what's wrong?  Did Baile hurt you again?"

“No, this time I did it all myself.” She whispered and sat down. “But Victor made me come down here and talk to you. He is going to check up and see if I really came. He is like that. Please tell him that I did, that is really important.   Dallas tried her best to cover up her discomfort at the prospect of seeing Victor. "I'll tell him if I see him." 

Karyn was relieved, but still confused.  "What happened?"

“I …. I allowed another woman to touch me. It was like she bewitched me, like I didn’t know what I was doing. I am not like that… She …she…’ A tear trickled down. “all I have done since I came back is cry.”

"Branwen, I need you to take a deep breath, ok?  Can you start from the beginning?"

She told her superior officer the whole story of how she met the Miranda officer on the starbase and how she had been mesmerized by the other officer. And what happened then how the emerald woman had slowly made her go further. “She said it was my own will and all but I felt like I had too. I am so ashamed. The chaplain stopped me when I was flogging myself and he forgot to punish me himself before I left. I have to go back and ask for more.” She was looking at the floor.   Karyn's eyes raised at the mention of the word flogging.  She thought people only wished that on others in jest.  "Branwen, you don't really think I'm going to let you flog yourself for this now that I know, do you?"  Karyn cursed inwardly. If what she suspected was true, then irony was a cruel mistress.  "This woman, it sounds like she was an Orion, and if that's true, pheromones may have played a role here.  What do you think is your next step?"    It would have been easy for Karyn to go into mother hen mode as she had in the past, but experience had taught her sometimes one's own choices were best.    “The JAG officer, I guess.”  She could only hope that  her uniform was not showing blood.  The flogging she gave herself still hurt.   “Ma’am, it is  the belief I was raised with.  If you do something wrong you deserve to be punished.   The Orion woman did not tie me down.”  She blushed.  “I just felt like I had no choice.  It was very strange.  I am not like that, ma’am.”  She emphasized again.   Karyn nodded.  "I know, Branwen.  It sounds as though this woman wasn't honest with you at the very least about who and how she could influence you, and that doesn't sit well with me.  If you would like to report this, I will support you one hundred percent.  But promise me, you won't flog yourself for this, surely God does not blame others who were manipulated against their will due to a physiological element?"

"I will report it.  But I cannot make any promises on the punishment." Branwen said softly.  "That is for the chaplain to decide, if he thinks I need punishment is God's will."   Karyn felt confident the chaplain would advocate no such thing.  And in time, she would help Branwen cope.  But for now, she had to make sure Branwen knew exactly what she was up against.  "I believe you, Branwen, and I will support you completely.  But you must be sure you want to go forward with this, and that means you have to believe the Miranda officer was completely responsible for hurting you, that it wasn't a simple misunderstanding.  You're going to have to talk to members of security, the JAG, and a doctor.  I'll stay with you for all of it, but once you make these accusations, there's no turning back." 

"How can it be misunderstanding."  Branwen asked confused.  "She hypnotized me. Yes, I want to make sure that she does not do this to anybody else. "   Karyn nodded.  "Then, with your permission, let's meet with the JAG as soon as possible. Just so you know, you'll probably need to speak with a female officer from security and undergo a medical exam, but I assure you, I'll make this as painless as I can.  I'll be with you for as much as you'd like."

"Yes.  I think that is best.  And thank you for your support ma'am.  It means a lot."

“The gloves come off”

[this is the sixth in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Faylin Galaxy JAG officer

Gwyin Miranda JAG officer

After her meeting with the accuser, for Gwyin was having a hard time thinking of howelse to call her, she strode up into the JAG offices of the USS Galaxy.  She looked down her nose at the secretary. "I am lt. Commander Narim'Malyki. I am here to see Ensign Faylin McAllister. I believe she is the JAG officer."

"She is expecting you."  Came the snobbish reply.  "Go ahead."

Padds were scattered like twigs upon the surface of her desk.  Among them, the remnants of coffee mugs.  Six to be precise.  Pulling shifts in both security and JAG gave her little peace other than to hide in her office.  Straightening up due to her next appointment, she turned to see the woman make an entrance.  "Commander."

Gwyin looked at the ensign before her. Older then her, but still an ensign. Calmly she said. "I do hope, that you, before submitting an arrest warrent for lt. Commander Anjoli D'Bari's arrest, you did talk to the accused."

'Lovely' Thought Faylin.  "I did not submit an arrest warrant yet, because I do have yet to speak to the accused.  I outlined what occurs when procedure is followed to the party that is bringing the suit."

"Good." Gwyin said coldly.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she offered the other JAG a seat.  "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thank you."

"Fine.  Now, let's continue.  Anything else?"

"Yes. I got a lovely visit in my office yesterday. A very pissed off CMO and a counselor about ready to come over here and rip a marine a new asshole. Needless to say, I heard them out, and then came here and talked to the accuser. I have both interviews recorded." She paused. "Did you, tell one Lieutenant Branwen London, that Anjoli D'Bari used her pheromones on her?

"Marines could use another asshole."  She stated in a matter of fact tone.  "I had security take a statement from her.  Branwen stated that she believed that D'Bari used pheromones on her."

"Did you ask her how she knew that?" Gwyin asked "Because in my interview with her, she said you told her."

"I suggested, I didn't tell her.  She took the information I gave her concerning the species and did what she wanted with it."

"Right" Gwyin said coldly. "You gave information on a species to a supposed rape victem and then the poor girl goes running off on it and adding it to make the case seem worse." She drew breath. "Lt. Commander D'Bari, takes medication. Its well documented in her file, that the medication is pheromone suppressant. Drops the level of Pheromone to zero." She looked at the JAG officer. "It is the duty of a JAG officer to hear the facts, not to give leading suggestions to those who are considered a victem about the supposed rapist."

"General information on a species is available anywhere Commander. Let's get a grasp on reality, shall we?"

"I really do not care if it was an accident or deliberate." Gwyin said holding up a hand. "I am here to get this sorted out. No one wants this to go to trial, because in my mind there is no case. D'Bari admits making love to London, says, London seemed to play a game, pretending to be hypnotized. London got the pleasure, D'Bari got none." She pulled out a cassette and put it in the small player she had in her other hand. "Listen to this."

*** Vocal recording of the interview with D'Bari by Narim'Malyki ***

"I met her at our last layover. She seemed nice. But she was....provincial. As if she had been raised by nuns or wolves or something equally corrosive to one's development. I wrote it off as some kind of personality defect. We talked a bit...."

"She started playing a game...or what I thought was a game. She acted like I had hypnotized her or some such nonsense. I played along....and events...proceeded to their natural conclusion. Well, for her at least. I got precious little out of it. While she luxuriated in the afterglow, I decided to take my leave. I had shopping to do."

"She asked me to unhypnotize her or some such nonsense. I told her the game was over and I had to go. I can't hypnotize people any more than I can go warp speed just on the awesome power of my flatulence."

"Granted, my pheromones can influence humanoid males and some females--but I take a medication that reduces their effect to near zero effect. My dosage is noted in my medical records."

"So that's where I left it. Then Gwen tells me there's a rumor afoot about me...raping someone."

***

Gwyin watched the other JAG officer and waited.

Leaning on her forearm, McAlister raised her eyebrows at Gwyin.  "And? That's one side of the story, is it not?"

With a smirk, Gwyin put another cassette in. "Branwens' side." She said

***

Branwen blushed and again began the story of how they had met on the starbase and the woman had seduced her and then hypnotized her against her will .

***

"Sounds the same, but with some differences. If D'Bari could hypnotize people, I would have a ship full of these complaints. But I have zero." Gwyin looked at the other JAG. "I read lt. London's file. And Lt. Commander D'bari's as well. London has issues, to say the least. She has no idea about other races, nor does she have the same outlook as D'bari. That does not make this rape,. She never said no. She admites it. And as we can prove that the pheromones were not involved and d'Bari did not hypnotize her, it will be the Miranda's Jag office's referral that the matter be dismissed."

She paused. "And before you claim i am biased, I am not, nor have I ever been a lover of Anjoli D'Bari, nor am I a close friend. I examined the evidence and that is my recommendation. Your officer, is young and naive. She gave off signals that said she wanted sex with D'Bari, and when it was over, she cried rape. That does not a rape case make."

"However, I am not dropping this case on the basis of this alone. Anyone that says rape, has a right to have it investigated to the full extent of Starfleet regulations.  Regardless of what anyone has to say.  It is in the hands of the Galaxy security investigator at this point in time.  Any questions regarding the progress of the investigation should be directed at that person.  If you are interested, here is his name, rank, and location of his office.  I am assured that if you request a report, one will be given to you.  You are aware, as I am positive that you are, if you have any further disagreements with how this case is proceeding, you are free to contact head quarters.  I'm sure the Admiral would be more than happy to accommodate you Commander."

"oohh an admiral. So scared" Gwyin stood. "not."

"Will there be anything else this afternoon?"  Faylin hid the scowl that was forming with her coffee mug.  Her eyes steeled on the woman in front of her, deciding what would be the best route to take in this situation.

"Yes, I will be informing Miranda Security that Anjoli D'Bari is not to be taken off Miranda by anyone without my say so, So your invesitgator can investigate without Miranda's co-operation. To my mind, the case is closed." She turned for the door.  "here" She flipped her two vocal recordings. "Copies of the interviews. IF you wish to lower your self and interview D'Bari, You will have to do it on Miranda. Good Day." Gwyin left the office.

Watching her leave, Faylin muttered.  "I'd be scared if I were you lady."  Swiveling in her seat, she tapped the counsole, opening a secure chanel to headquarters.  "Admiral David......thought you might want to be made aware of a potential situation."

Informing Mike had been easy enough.  Tapping off the screen, McAlister leaned back.  Being in the inner sanctum had it's advantages.

"Suiting Up"

Ensign Eve
And an assortment of NPC Intell techies and flight bay mechanics.

================

She had her orders, she had a mission; Eve felt complete. Upon entering the flight bay after exiting Rex's office she imediately contacted the Intelligence office, first to inform the nesecary personnel to have the fighter surveilance gear transported down to the fighter bays, and secondly to report to LT Bental of her quasi-sucess at this particular area of the mission - she would need to ride behind Casanova in Vanguard 1 in order to facilitate the most expedient arangement of configurations.

Once that was all said and done, Eve got down to work. While the equipment made it's way through the transporters to the flight deck, she met with the Officer of the Deck, aranging for the usage of a selection of the fighter maintenance personnel. As the devices had no particular markings save for those asociated with the "standard issue specail use sensor arrays" there would be no break of the security concerning what precicely these things would be looking for.

The instalation itself was painless and smooth: Remove the cowlings in specific sections, mount and connect the components, and reseal the hull. opening and closing was what took the most amount of time, as hull integrity checks were required prior to being declared flight worthy. It was a testament to the skills of the flight deck maintenance crew that not one bird was downed during the entire process.

As the techs worked on sealing up Vanguard One, Eve dashed off for the last part of the equasion, something else that she would need. Returning just as the fighter passed her checks, the cyborg was sporting a flight suit, though she differed from everyone else present by a single detail: the departmental black of Intelligence.

Miranda Intel Update: Department Back Online

********************************************

Department Status Report
To: Captain Christopher Summers
CC: Taskforce Commanding Officers and CIOs Officer
Reporting: Lieutenant Colonel Rae Weber

HIGHLY CLASSIFIED EYES ONLY

At some point over the course of our internment here, it was decided that because Alex was consumed by other aspects of the Intelligence Gathering System, it should be I who files the reports. Because this is not something I am accustomed to, at least not to the scale that is required from a ship-based officer, I am afraid that this report will not only be tardy, but inadequate. Regardless, I shall attempt to keep to the facts as I know them and accurately update you on the activities of this team.

It has been discovered that the some vessel's intelligence departments are more accommodating than others. Though there has been a skirmish or two of note between our Centre and the Galaxy's department, the Intelligence teams of the Texas and Arizona, particularly, have been open and communicative. Although my co-Chief and I have encountered numerous obstacles after taking over an Intelligence Centre of this size, we have also discovered a small handful of benefits, most importantly lists of contacts on Romulus and a pre-standing relationship with them. Because of this, we were able to obtain the footage of the Hydran Star Beast, footage that has been shared with the rest of the task force's Intelligence Teams as well as the Command and Tactical units. Please find additional footage and analysis attached.

Through our agreement with the Starfleet Marines on the ground, we are continuing to monitor the situations as they develop in Romulan cities. The growing since of fear and helpless felt by the people there are increasing tensions and, in many cases, is only feeding paranoia and distrust. While we are learning little new regarding Romulan city structures, actions, and fail safes, we are learning quite a bit regarding the Romulan psyche, political culture, and crisis response. I believe the information that has been uploaded thus far will prove invaluable in the time to come, despite how mundane it might seem to be at the present time.

Our contacts on Romulus have also give us some intriguing information; it seems that some independent agents have been tracking the whereabouts of the Intelligence Officer scuttle says may have been responsible for the massacre of the Romulan Galae. The identities and allegiances of these officers are unknown, but it seems they may be working with a member of the Romulan government. Reports are sketchy at best, but we are continuing to investigate.

On a far more personal note, it is becoming apparent that neither Alex nor myself have quite perfected this. We were never meant to be stationed on a ship, much less in charge of a departmental operation. It is further complicated by the fact that the Miranda's Intelligence Centre is still reeling from the loss of Director Elaithin. Not only was she a career officer, she literally built the centre from the personnel to the resources. Her absence clearly continues to be felt even seven months later, and a substantial gap remains. The question of which of us writes the report is on the tip of a larger iceberg, and although I believe the centre's operations have been solid, the well-oiled and efficient machine it once was is struggling. The chain of command is fragmented, something I believe exists largely because of my own unique history and the lack of trust it has helped to create. While Lieutenant Colonel McKeon and I continued to work toward bridging the gap that exists, it is an uphill struggle.

"Itching to Train."

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security

LOCATION: Holodeck

Her neck itched. Really badly, and due to the fact that McAlister's hands were full with a phaser rifle and a smart grenade, there was nothing she could do about it. The little tag on the back of her armor waggled a little more, causing the ensign to grimace. It was a persistent little scritch scritch scritch, and it was all she could do not to bellow out, drop her weapons, and satisfy the itch with her delicately manicured fingernails. She crouched behind a barrier of sand. With all the technology that the Federation had at their fingertips, sand still held firm as the protective ledge between her group and the Hydrans.

The woman had no idea why she was training in the holodeck for planet side executions. She had already been informed that she would be remaining on the ship. So, it was in her best interest, or so she thought, to be involved in SHIP training! Turning around, she noticed the overbearing weighty stare of her superior. He was obviously no impressed with the JAG officer's ability to stay focused on something other than statutes.

"Now, press the button and wing it McAlister!"

Glancing at the grenade, she did as ordered. However, she threw it over hand instead of under hand and the little sphere landed but a very short distance away.

"Whopps."

"TAKE COVER!!!"

Giving her a look that could only be described as evil, the large Klingon beside her, chastised her in a baritone voice. "You throw like a girl."

"I am a girl, damn it!" 'Last time I checked anyway.' Faylin thought sourly to herself.

*BOOM!*

Standing up, McAlister started to cough at the influx of dust that had entered her lungs. In short order, she was grabbed roughly by the back of her collar and yanked downwards.

"Owwwwwwwwwww."

The woman rubbed her head as it was smacked from behind. "Assaulting an officer is against regula………"

Within a second, the man was up in her face. His breath left nothing to the imagination as she attempted to look away from the garlic type assault she was under. "I don't give a fuck about your regulations lady! This is security detail, not some prissy law office. Get with the program!"

"Um, okay." She stated quietly. Suddenly, her confidence dwindled to next to nothing. Quietly resuming her position, she raised her phaser rifle, waiting for the first wave of assaults to begin. Faylin was not cut out for this style of the department. Yes, she had excellent proficiency in certain areas…but no make up, sweaty, and a broken nail did not sit well with the JAG officer. Looking down at the rifle, she sighed. There was a small black smudge mark near the trigger. Taking off her glove, she scratched at it…..not realizing how close she was to the trigger.

"MCALISTER!!!!!"

"Meeting of the Minds" (back post)

Ensign Kolath, Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Shiarrael t'Khnialmnae, Chief Tactical Officer

The Miranda was currently docked at DS5, picking up her last assignments of personnel and equipment before heading out towards Romulus. Of the reporters, Miranda's Tactical Department had only one last individual coming aboard at this stop.

Kolath strode down the hall towards the office of the Chief Tactical Officer. The Klingon had reservations about this meeting, not only was he reporting to his new superior for the first time, but that officer happened to be a Romulan. The Klingon Empire had far to many conflicts with the Romulans over the years for Kolath not to have some level of distaste and mistrust come to his mind when he thought of Romulans and now he was going to be forced to answer to one.

"Damn the Romulans," muttered Kolath to himself as he started tugging at the collar of this uniform, "and damn these Starfleet uniforms! Gre'thor must be filled with them!"

Arriving at the office, Kolath pulled down his uniform to straighten it and to adjust his sash. He then strode forward and activated the door chime to announce his presence.

"Enter," Shiarrael called as she stood behind her desk. She had been expecting him ever since she's read his bio but held of her reservations at having a klingon in her department. Not only would he be the first in quite some time, but he would have to get along with a cardassian, an orion male, and a gorn in addition to herself. Making a fist of her right hand, she placed the back of it against her left breast in the manner of the old style Rihannsu Salute and inclined her head down a short measure. "I would greet you in your native tongue," she said in Federation Standard, "however my Klingon is only moderately passable so I'll decline to embarrass myself. I am Lieutenant Shiarrael Laiir t'Khnialmnae."

"Ensign Kolath, Reporting for duty Lieutenant," announced Kolath in Federation Standard as he gave the traditional Klingon Salute. "It is for the best that you had not," stated Kolath, "for I speak only a few Romulan insults and I would have shown you great dishonor for not replying in your native tongue after you had given me the honor."

"Have a seat, Kolath," she indicated the chair as she sat in her own. "Before we go any farther, I want to know your thoughts and personal feelings about this particular situation we are finding ourselves in. You are a klingon warrior, not in any disfavor within your house or the Empire, yet you have inclined towards service within Starfleet. On your first posting, your Department Head is Rihannsu, the department second a Gorn with less than favorable standing within the minds of a good percentage of the crew, and of your fellow officers one is cardassian and another an Orion. Feel free to speak without restraint; there will be no reprisal."

Kolath sits stiffly in the seat provided to him, still uncomfortable with 'softness' of Federation chairs. "I was surprised to find that my commanding officer would be a..." started Kolath, but paused as he choose his words, "...Rihannsu. I was not aware of any serving in Starfleet, let alone as the Department Head of the Tactical Department on one of the Federations newer and advanced starships."

"I will admit that, as a Klingon, I have reservations about you and your true loyalties." continued Kolath, "After all our people have been at odds for centuries with a rich and bloody history. Such history is not always easy to over look."

"However, as a Starfleet officer, for the most part you have performed your duties well and risen in the ranks to attain you current position," stated Kolath, "on those grounds, both as a Klingon and a Starfleet officer myself, I am honor bound to follow your lead until such time as you prove to me untrustworthy. Something I trust will never occur.

"As for the Gorn, they are not without honor in their strange brutish way," continued Kolath as he squirmed in his uniform, apparently from discomfort. "There should be no foreseeable problems between your second officer and myself. I also see no problems with the Cardassian or the Orion. The Cardassians showed some honor when they turned against the Dominion at the end of the Dominion War." said Kolath, "and the Orion, well, all I can say is that the off-duty social occasions will probably be very interesting and should I require some Blood-wine I know I should likely ask to get my hands on some."

Shiarrael nodded, making various annotations on a PADD as he spoke. "Very well. I'm placing you in the CIC with Lieutenant Daniels, Gamma shift. Report to him for your specific assignments and duties. Any questions?"

"Not at this time," replied Kolath, "Unless of course you have any further questions for myself."

Shiarrael shook her head. "Then consider yourself off duty until Gamma swings around. Dismissed."

"A Pretty Pansy"

Ensign Faylin McAlister Security

Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison/AWACS Pilot, USS Galaxy-A

==================================

Paulo ran down the hallway. He was still in his flight gear. He had just heard about the confrontation between Saul and Faylin, and it hadn't ended well. He may not be dating the CIO anymore... in fact now he was dating the CFCO, but that didn't mean it didn't have his own sources within that corrupted department. Not to mention he had heard that the little girl had been murdered and not crushed to death.

He rounded the corner and almost slammed into Faylin's quarters doors. He stopped, took a breath and hit the chime. "Faylin, it's Paulo, let me in," he said through the comm.

"Sure, come on in." Faylin stated with a hiss. Turning, she gave the appearance of being a chipper woman. Hair tied back into a bouncy ponytail, with the new regulation uniform that came along with the security department. The training video she had been watching had been paused as she watched his form emerge into her quarters. "What's up?"

"I know you hate him, hell I hate him, but don't kill him... or hurt him!" He said rushed not even noticing his surroundings.

"Who Saul?" She gave a wave of her hand. "He's a pansy Paulo."

"A pansy with more secrets and more secret friends that I can count on all my fingers and toes. He has connections to more things then I want to think of... of course I can't prove any of this."

"Okay fine...A pretty pansy."

Paulo just stared at her.

"What?" Faylin returned the stare.

"Just don't do anything rash?"

"Rash? Honey.....I don't do rash. I do planed and articulately detailed." Her grin widened, sinister in nature. "I'm satisfied knowing he will spend eternity in hell."

Paulo sighed, "well as long as your not going to hurt him... for the time being," he said as he went over and slumped into a chair.

"Ya know. I just want to get drunk, and have my brains screwed out." The stoic look was not lost on the listener.

He looked up at her, "hey, don't include me in your little plan. I have a girlfriend... that I haven't had the chance to see for any period of time since coming to Romulus... months ago... and I don't do that whole drunk thing."

"Did I ask you?" She snickered. "It's how I deal with things Paulo."

"I know," he sighed. "Just wish you would find another way." He looked back up at her and smiled, "but it's how you deal with things."

"Well, how would you deal with things.....mister minister?"

"HAH!" He laughed. "I don't," he said. "I tend to just bottle it all up and let it pop once and while, which results in me getting my ass into trouble. Hence the being at Ensign equivalent for the rest of my life."

She nodded. "You too eh?" Pinching her nose with her index and thumb finger, Faylin sighed. "Gods Paulo. How did my life get so screwed up?"

"I have been wondering about my own life for the longest time, and there two options, and only the Big Man upstairs knows the answer. One: God loves practical jokes, and we are it. Two: we don't know when to quit, and we keep going till we get what we want, which can result in obviously bad things happening."

"Practical joke." She grew reflective for a moment before glancing over at the swim trunks that were tacked up on her wall as a memento. "Jonas." She mused to herself.

"Jonas?"

"Yeah." She stated with a wave. "A Marine who I shorted...so to speak."

"I don't think I even want to know."

"Ya really don't." she stated with a light chuckle.

He patted the seat next to him with his hand, "so, what are you going to do now? Hydrans baring down on us, only hours to live."

"I just told you." Her eyes twinkled.

"Okay, minus the hard drinking and the rough sex."

"Sitting around waiting for the shit to hit the fan then."

"Sounds exciting," he said still staring up at her.

"Eh, it's life Paulo. Nice flight suit...by the way."

He looked down forgetting he had it on. "Yeah, on standby 24/7. This way there is less downtime between when fighters are scrambled and me getting blown out of the water."

"You think that's bad?" Walking over to a closet, she extracted Type 1 Battle Armor. "Try walking around with a feminine air about you in these. The helmet alone squishes my hair!"

Paulo laughed as he looked at the ridiculous outfit. "I wonder why the made it so ugly? At least in mine it looks like I can move... and yours... a blind fashion designer would say no to that."

"Keeps us protected I suppose."

"From what? A grenade to the chest?"

"Possibly. Hey, duty shift is starting soon." Holstering her phaser, she turned to offer a small smile. "My other activities will have to wait a while. I might be heading down to the planet with Epsilon squad. I'll find out later."

He smiled and stood up. "Don't get yourself blown up down there," he said with a carrying smile. "I expect to see you after all this for a few moderate drinks."

"Moderate? I don't do moderate." She stated with a sofisticated air.

He laughed at her smugness. "We will see about that," he said as he headed and stood in the doorway. "And remember, make sure you don't kill Saul... yet... yet again I amy regret not letting you."

"Like I said, don't worry. I'll just go let my frustrations out on a few Hydrans. Gotta go...buddy...out!" The index finger pointed straight to the door.

As the doors hissed shut, he stood there for a second, a small sad little frown etched across his mouth. "Does this mean....I don't get to see you naked?"

"Stand by me"

[this is the seventh in a series of slight backposts about the Anjoli/Branwen storyline]

Faylin Branwen

Bran was pretty distraught after the Miranda JAG officers visit. So she made her way over to her own Jag officer's office. She stopped at the secretary's desk. "Hi, do you think she has time for me, I am lt. London."

"Yes she does Branwen. Come on in." Faylin stood by the door, motioning for her to come in.

"Have a seat. So.....I had a visitor earlier....the JAG from the Miranda."

"I'm not surprised. She came to see me, what an extremely rude woman. She didn't even give me the time to finish my story. And she said I was lying." Branwen was upset.

"Bran...there are two types of JAGS. Those with proverbial objects up their asses, and then my type. She has the proverbial object up her ass. Okay, from what I've heard so far, the 'Miranda' side is claiming that you were perpetrating a game of sorts."

"Absolutely not! I was very hesitant, and I didn't think it was a good idea. She assured me it was a game, and I was hypnotised. I had no idea she was going to rape me, you have to believe me." The young marine bit her lip. "I am not crazy."

"No, I do not believe you are. That is why I'm continuing to leave this case open. The JAG on the Miranda, in no uncertain terms believes that this case is closed. However, upon recent light on certain things, I am requesting that both of you and the alleged perpetrator of the crime go through a complete psychiatric evaluation."

"Closed? She is not going to be punished? I have no problem with a psychological evaluation, I have them frequently, its part of my job of being a therapist myself. Right now I regularly talk to Dr Burton and Commander Dallas."

"Okay. In that case, I'll need to have you complete, another one....as soon as possible......"

"I probably will not be able to do that before the mission. I leave for the surface in a few hours. But I will schedule one now for as soon as I come back." She promised.

"Let me assure you Bran, that I will not rest until the investigation has come to a conclusion. Is there anything else?" Faylin stopped, her mind drifting somewhere for a short time, then refocusing.

"No." The young marine said. "As long as I know you believe me, and you will help me it's fine. We have to stop this woman." She said with conviction.

"I'm with you." Exhaustion gave her another blow as she finished the latest round of caffiene. This method of dealing with her daughter's death was not cutting it any longer....she needed to talk to someone. "Stay safe down there Branwen."

"Thank you." She started to get up with then hesitated, her therapist second nature picking up on the body language. "Are you okay?"

Tucking a stray hair behind her left ear, she offered a false smile. "Yes. Just a little tired is all."

"Sorry to hear that. Take care of yourself, you hear." Branwen gave her a shy smile.

Smiling as she left, she held her gaze on a picture of Olivia that sat in the corner of her desk. "Easier said, then done."

"Into the Dark..."

By

Ensign Shaav Warp Core Specialist U.S.S. Miranda

And featuring...

Commander Taloras Commanding Officer I.R.W. Mahak

****************************************************

=/\=Incoming subspace transmission.=/\=

Shaav glanced up, surprised. "Clarify."

=/\=Commander Taloras of the I.R.W. Mahak on frequency 48, medium-level encryption, phased down from the lepton band.=/\= The computer intoned.

He set down his hyperspanner and looked around.

Engineering was mostly deserted; it was about thirty minutes before the start of Alpha shift and everyone else was either trying to sleep before the battle or shoring up phasers and shields and other systems elsewhere on the ship.

"Route it to the starboard display." Shaav said.

From where he was sitting, he had a console in front of him which overlooked the warp core and most of Main Engineering. A series of quick keystrokes set his console to automatic, and he swiveled in his chair to face one of the large, wall-mounted system displays.

"Commander Taloras?"

"Ensign Shaav."

They stared at each other for a few moments, the stony Vulcan staring down the young Romulan woman, who eyed him warily from within the stark and functional lines of a Romulan bridge.

Finally, Taloras broke out in to a grin. "Shaav, dear friend, it is wonderful to see you."

"Likewise; I haven't seen or heard from you since you were an-ah-exchange student at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Exchange student?"

Shaav looked pained. "Where 'exchange student' is to be read as 'political refugee smuggled out of the Empire under dubious circumstances before being pardoned during a power shift in the upper echelons of the Senate and getting smuggled back in under equally-dubious circumstances." He amended.

"Ha!" The Romulan woman barked out a short laugh.

"Where are you?"

Taloras's expression quickly sobered. "We're 'keeping the border secure during a time of crisis'."

Shaav lifted an eyebrow. "Border patrol? Now?"

"It has to be done." Taloras responded. "Though how much good we're going to do out here I really question..."

She shifted nervously in her command chair. "We're the only Rihannsu ship for 20 light-years in any direction; gives me bad nehauu, as well as making it difficult to sleep at night. If someone decided to invade the Empire from this angle-"

Here, she swept a hand behind her to indicate Mahak's position on the quadrant chart; the far side of Romulan space, opposite the Federation.

"-I doubt we could do much more than give them a warning and send them on their merry way."

"Surely it's not that bad..." Shaav trailed off.

"Oh, it is." Taloras said, expression darkening. "When Naval Command recalled everything to ch'Rihan or home-bound defense vectors, they recalled EVERYTHING. Even the local planetary defense fleets are en-route, or gone. All that's left out here is the occasional medium or light cruiser, patrolling, and watching, and waiting."

Though not prone to nervousness, Shaav couldn't help but glance around him with some apprehension. "Should you really be telling me any of this?"

"Security's an absolute mess, what with the entire Rihannsu fleet consisting of what few remaining forces you have out there with you, and the occasional ship or two out here on the borders. I imagine I could tell you cloaking frequencies or Red Order cryptons and nobody would bother prosecuting me right now." Taloras remarked, tongue-in-cheek. Off-camera, Shaav heard a stifled gasp.

"Ah."

On-screen, she tugged at the waist of her somber gray Rihannsu millitary tunic in a vain effort to straighten it.

"We can see everything going on out there, either on holotrans or on long-range sensors." Taloras began tightly.

Shaav noticed her knuckles whiten as they gripped the arms of her chair, but said nothing.

"It is one thing to be in the heart of a battle, to be able to change it based on skill or hope. But it is quite another to be on the sidelines, watching in perfect clarity but unable to participate. In an hour, I may watch you be murdered, and my home scorched and wiped clean of life. And there won't be a single thing I can do about it."

Another pause.

"You know it's probably a suicide mission, being on the Miranda instead of on-planet."

Shaav nodded.

"What are you going to do?"

"My best."

Light-years distant, the Romulan commander managed a thin-lipped smile. "I hope so. For all of our sakes."

From behind him, Shaav heard a red alert klaxon. =/\=Red alert, red alert, all hands to battle stations.=/\=

"I must be going," Shaav said brusquely, acutely aware of the sound of feet shuffling in to engineering behind him.

Taloras made a move, as if to cut off the connection, but froze. "Say, Shaav, would it be illogical for me to wish you good luck?"

Shaav thought for a moment. "Yes."

In response, the Romulan woman grinned, and parted her hand in the traditional Ta'al of greetings and goodbyes. "Live long and prosper, my uppity Vulcan friend."

The screen darkened, leaving the Vulcan facing his reflection in the monitor.

"Jolan'tru, t'hy'la." Shaav murmured, though no one could hear him.

"Jolan'tru."

****************************************************

OOC: Nehau or Nehauu, as it exists in Modern Vulcan and Rihannsu Common respectively, translates roughly to "vibes".

"Discussing the case with Gwen and Anjoli"

By

Lt. Commander Anjoli D'Bari

Lt. Gwen Parri

Lt. Commander Gwyin Narim'Malyki

*8*8*8*8*8*

Gwyin returned to Miranda with a head full of anger. She was going to kick some ass if this matter ever came to trial. But shoving the anger deep down she made her way to Gwen and Anjoli's cabin. Gathering her thoughts she hit the chime and waited.

Gwen had been sitting on the couch reading. She got up immediately and went over to open the door. "Gwyin?" She picked up on the body language immediately. "What happened?"

"No one minds If I got back to Galaxy and kill their dumb ass JAG do they?" She muttered as she stepped in. "Where is Anjoli. We need to talk about this."

"in the bedroom. They didn't believe her?" Gwen was getting angry as well.

"The JAG believes a marine who's mind is almost childlike." Gwyin said with a low growl. She took a breath. "Sorry I just got threatened with an admiral. And their JAG is an ensign. So wet behind the ears its not funny."

"Joli!!!" The Welsh woman called out. "You need to get in here! Unbelievable." She said to Gwyin. "I don't I have a word with this simpleton. I'm sure she will be intimidated by seeing a psychologist."

"She is seeing a counselor apparently." Gwyin said running a hand across her face. "And that DUMB ass JAG was the one who told her that Anjoli used her pheromones."

"But we can prove that she didn't, right. She has been taking her medication. I can vouch for that. So they don't have a case."

"Right now, they are supporting the accuser and barely listening to Anjoli's side. I have ordered that no one be allowed to take Anjoli off this ship without discussing it with me, and if I have to I will take it to Jaal and Summers before I let the Galaxy idiots have Anjoli in their brig."

Gwen paled considerably. "They are talking about arresting her! Those idiots, you just let me talk to that stupid child." Actually she was making for the door.

Gwyin lunged and grabbed her. "GWEN. Calm down." She dragged her back. "We will resolve this ok? Their jag is so dumb and wet behind the ears she is doing what higher ranking officers want and is not using her brain. I have enough on the Marine to get her interviewed by independent counseling to see if she is mentally fit to participate in the trial, let alone be a fleet marine. So breath ok Gwen?"

Anjoli appeared at the bedroom door, pulling on a Disney Planet t shirt.

"Gwen! Stop!" The emerald woman marched over and stood between the doorway and Gwen.

"Khadamia...you must remain calm, for my sake. I cannot deal with fighting these ridiculous charges while you're in the Galaxy's brig, or worse-sickbay."

She tenderly touched Gwen's angry face. "This will not stand. The truth will keep me free. I relish the opportunity to put all of these rumors and false ideas to rest at last."

Gwen embraced her friend. "I will not lose you now. Now that we have finally together, but if they used as against us in the whole baby thing." She held on tight, trembling with emotion.

Gwyin stood silent for a moment. "They won't." She said softly. "The baby issue will be fine. This is one silly girl who has no idea about anything trying to make mountains out of molehills. Nothing should come of it."

Anjoli made soothing sounds as she gently caressed Gwen's back.

"Khadamia....if I was truly in danger in this, you know I would be kicking and screaming. But not only do I have faith in the truth, but I also have faith in Gwynn here."

Anjoli gave Gwyin an appreciative smile.

"Do not be too hard on the Galaxy's JAG. A stands for advocate, yes? If anyone needs a voice in this matter, it's that Marine. Perhaps all of this will mean she gets the help she needs."

"The little bitch." Gwendolyn growled but was pulling herself together. "So what do we do now?"

"Now, we get people to back Anjoli. If I have to go to the captain about this I will." Gwyin said.

"Okay, that we can do.' Gwen promised. "Everybody likes her."

Gwyin smiled at that. "Then make sure you get everyone's statements to me ok?"

"Absolutely. Thanks again, Gwyin. You are sure Joli is in no danger of being arrested?"

"Not while I am JAG on this ship" Gwyin said.

"That is very good to hear."

***USS Miranda, Officer's Quarters***

Anjoli D'Bari, CMO
Gwen Parri, counselor

Anjoli poured a bit of the champaigne into Gwen 's fluted glass. Dinner had been exquisite, and now the emerald woman had something to discuss. However, she had refused for days to even hint at what the topic might be. "So....have I tortured you long enough this evening?" “Why torture?” Gwen asked. “Dinner was very nice and you are a very good hostess, love.” Anjoli took Gwen 's hand gently in both of hers. "But I've made you wear your finest gown and keeping you here with me when I should be showing the world how proud I am to have you by my side." The emerald woman was wearing her best as well, the fiendishly fashioned dress of bronze satin with almost no back save a few thin chain links..... "That's okay, sweetheart. You know I don't mind spending time only with you. Nothing to feel guilty about." Gwen knew how upset her friend was over the whole rape charge thing, and she tried to be extra nice these days. "The only guilt I feel is hiding a treasure like you from the world, if only for a few hours." Anjoli gathered herself for a moment before speaking again. "I wanted to share an Arrin'Haleri tradition with you. It's actually more fable or legend, but that is not the important thing." "I would love to. You know I love learning about your culture." Gwen said warmly. Anjoli started. "Long ago, a seeker of truth travelled the world seeking evidence that love truly did exist. After many years and adventures, the seeker was certain that he had at last found the evidence he craved. She was beautiful, and brave, and loyal....truly the marvel that he had sought for so long." The other woman was listening, staring intently into Joli’s eyes. It was a very nice story. "The problem was, the seeker was now old and scarred from his years of adventure. There was not much life left within him. Despite all of this, the woman still loved him because she knew his brave heart and unbowed spirit was what truly mattered." "The pair spent days of wonder, and nights of rapture together...until it was clear that the seeker final days were at last upon him.. He sought a craftsman of impeccible skil and artistry to make his lover a keepsake for when he could no longer hold her in his arms." "The craftsman took the man's lifesblood and fashioned a golden ring of exquisite beauty and perfection, cooling the metal with the seeker's dying breath. The seeker could not give his keepsake to his lover, for he had gone to the Life beyond Life. But as long as she wore the bloodgold ring, she could feel his warmth and his love." Gwen wiped away a tear. “That is a beautifull story, love. Such true love.’ She sought Anjoli’s hand and squeezed it. “They were lucky people.” "Yes, they were. And so are we...." Anjoli reached behind a pillow on the couch and removed a small box. Gwen smiled waited for what was to come. The band inside the box was simple but perfect. The gold did have a crimson hue to the metal. "There is some truth in the legend. Bloodgold does exist...if you look in the right spots. Also...if you follow the legend...to to the letter....it actually works." Anjoli took the ring and held it in two fingers. "Quenched by my blood, cooled by my life's breath, this ring is forged. I have but little to share with you....but what I have...I offer to you." “Are… are you asking me to marry you?” Gwen asked softly. Anjoli looked bashful, a rare expression indeed. "In human terms....that is the closest meaning." Anjoli said, equally quiet. "In my culture...it means that I offer myself--and all that i am-- to you willingly. There is no higher gift I can make." Without words Gwen embraced her and kissed Anjoli on the lips for a long time. Then when they broke apart she spoke. “Yes.” Was said very softly but very firmly. Anjoli cradled Gwen 's face, then kissed her. She melted into Gwen 's embrace, then remembered the ring in her fingers. "Here...." Anjoli said with a husky tone to her voice. With a tender grasp of the hand, Anjoli guided the ring onto Gwen 's finger. It felt warm in a physical and comforting way, reminding Gwen of the tale. Gwen wiped a tear away. This was totally unexpected, Anjoli was not really the committing type and to do something like this. This was the final commitment to each other. When the ring was on her finger she embraced her partner again. “ I love you. And now we are truly family.” Anjoli softly dried Gwen 's cheek with her thumb. "Do not cry, Khadamia. There are many challenges ahead...but now there are many blessings as well." "Absolutely. I never thought you would really marry me." Then suddenly. "Wait! I will be right back!" She rushed to their bedroom and well matched through her things for a few minutes. Anjoli merely sipped her champaigne with a happy expression. Gwen then came out again holding something clenched in her hand. When she opened it a very delicate golden ring was inside it. "This ring has been in my father's family for generations. It belonged to my grandmother, and many great-grandmothers before her. It is always given to the love of a life. Will you take this ring as a token of my love and affection." She asked. Anjoli looked at the ring in Gwen 's palm quietly. "I've been offered rings--or other tokens-- before this. I've never taken them. They always felt like they had some kind of strings attached or the gift was an attempt to force me to change into something I'm not." "But with you....what I feel is...acceptance of me, and all that I am. And that, is a gift more precious than all the latinum in the universe." Anjoli put her left hand out to accept the ring. Gwendolyn carefully pushed it on, and then kissed her friend again. "My wife." She giggled. Anjoli gently caressed Gwen 's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Not...just yet. There is a proper way of doing things. I won't have you miss out on the Terran wedding--they're beautiful, and every Terran woman deserves one. Then there's the Arrin'Haleri Dali'rama . We cannot give up a chance for that kind of event, war or no war." "Engaged then. I would love to have two proper ceremonies." Gwendolyn snuggled close. Anjoli, a self-satisfied grin plastered onto her face, sat back with Gwen in her arms. "I take it that you're somewhat pleased with the evening?" "Very. If it wasn't for this stupid girl, everything would be perfect." Gwen purred. Anjoli's fingers caressed Gwen 's ear. "That kind of thing will happen with me. Although I doubt that such casual encounters will happen with much frequency in the future." "Because of what happened, or because you need it less?" "With all honesty, the pleasantries of these brief encounters has lost much of its appeal. I've made mistakes before, and this is far from my worst." "But I can't have such things come back to hurt you. I still have others with whom I share affections, but no one has touched my heart like you. You and I are..." Anjoli tries to think of how to phrase what she wants to say in standard. "We are more special together--stronger and more alive." “I agree.” Gwen kissed her again deeply. “You are making me very, very happy love.” Anjoli gave Gwen a tender kiss. "I just wanted to you to know the truth of how I felt. That there is no question of your place in my heart. I've been to war, and seen the sad regrets that emerge on a daily basis. I don't want you to ever think you weren't terribly special to me." “Hey don’t talk like this! Nothing bad is going to happen, love. I will not allow it!” The emerald woman softly cupped Gwen 's cheek, giving her a look of pity. "We are not gods. We are mortal, with but one life to live in this universe. I say...make the most of it." Anjoli kissed Gwen , slowly, tenderly, but with delightful passion. Gwen kissed back and fumbled with the clothing. Right now she only wanted to be close to her partner. In body and in soul. Soon, both had disentangled themselves from their finery and left the clothing on the floor. Anjoli looked up into Gwen 's eyes, brushing back the scarlet curls from that classic beauty . Words were unnecessary when all the other senses were in play. Gwen just cuddled closer wanting as much skin contact as possible. Just being close to her partner, truly her partner now felt good enough. The pair needed nothing more than this. Still, Anjoli's eyes were drawn out the port towards the other ships in the flotilla, and her mind was drawn to an uncertain future.

“Is Confession Good For The Soul….?”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

Chief Medical Officer

USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Branwen London

Furies XO

USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy – Main Sickbay – Deck 11

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her back was still giving her problems, and however much Branwen did not want to see Kimberly right now, she finally realised that she would have to see a doctor. So just before going to the Miranda she ran over to sickbay to find Kimberly.

"Hi!" She called out. "I really don’t have much time, but do you have something for me for skin irritation?"

"Hi to you too," Kimberly greeted the marine as she walked over, dropping her armload of tricorders onto a nearby biobed she waved a tech over and quickly gave him instructions as to the needed calibrations, "Skin irritation?" she asked as she joined Branwen, "What sort?" she asked, recalling the last time she had examined Branwen.

“Well…. Not there.” She blushed. “On my back. Look Kimberly I really am in a hurry. Just toss me something will ya!”

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly shook her head, "Nope, doesn't work like that I’m afraid, I can't give you medication without knowing whether it's the right stuff, wouldn't want to make things worse would we?" indicating a side bay she nudged Branwen in the general direction, "head over there, I’ll grab a tricorder and we'll have you out of here in no time. Okay."

~ Shit ~ Branwen thought. But there was no way back now. So she did as Kimberly had ordered her stepping into a cubicle. "I have been going well", she said. "Resting more like you said."

"Good to hear, and how are you and your boss getting along?" she asked as she stepped in and activated the privacy screen.

"Much better actually. He has finally started to teach me, and not only yell. So things are looking up. "She was debating when would be a good time to tell Kimberly that the JAG Officer wanted her to have a complete psychological evaluation. "No need to worry about me anymore."

"Branwen, I'm the Chief Medical Officer, worrying about the crew is part of my job description," Kimberly replied with a smile, "Now, how can I help, where's the irritation?"

"On my back."

"Okay then," looking at Branwen for a moment Kimberly realised Branwen hadn't taken the subtle hint, "I'll need the shirt off?" she asked softly.

"All right, I will take the shirt off." Bram sighed. "I would usually come here about something so trivial, but I have to go down to the planet and I cannot be distracted."

Watching as Branwen took her shirt and undershirt off Kimberly felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at the irritated back she saw, there was a cross hatch of welts that looked like more than simple skin irritation, "Uh, Branwen," she started tentatively as she activated her tricorder and scanned the young woman, "how long has this been like this?"

"A few days. I had it dressed, Nara helped. I really shouldn't, but duty comes first. I am realistic enough for that. So if you could give me something for the itching that should be great, Kimberly."

"Mind if I ask what happened?" Kimberly said in a tone that implied speak. Now. "There's more here than a simple rash!"

"It's really very simple, it's because I chastised myself in the chapel for letting myself be hypnotised and raped. So normally I would never seek medical attention for it. It is part of the punishment, but duty comes first." She looked at Kimberly. "By the way, my JAG Officer thinks it's a good idea if you do a complete psychological evaluation to show that I am not crazy. Can we do that when I get back?"

"You...?" Words failing her for a moment Kimberly focussed on her work, most of the irritation could be healed with a dermal regenerator and a few applications of a suitable cream, however there were obviously deeper issues here.

"Okay, from the top Branwen, what happened? You can't throw around words like 'Hypnotised' and 'Rape' without expecting me to ask what happened. Everything!"

Taking a deep breath Branwen told her the whole story. Starting with a meeting Anjoli on the Starbase, to the last visit she had paid to Faylin. For once she actually left nothing out. "I just want this woman stopped. I don't want her hurting other innocent women."

Listening carefully as she worked Kimberly found herself wondering just where to go with this one. Anjoli if she recalled was probably Anjoli D'Bari, the CMO of the Miranda, ~ Oh Goddess! ~ "Who else have you told about this?" she asked after Branwen had told her story. Not knowing much about the Miranda’s CMO she couldn’t comment on the other woman, but that was something that was going to be rectified soon she decided.

"The priest, Victor but he doesn't known names, he would kill her. And the JAG Officer. By now the Miranda JAG Officer also knows, a very unpleasant person."

Thinking carefully for a moment as she ran a protoplaser and a regenerator over the wounds on Branwens back it took Kimberly a moment before she answered, "I think Mr Krieghoff and someone need to have a chat, he's been told about random threats to kill crew," she muttered, "but, if I may ask a question, why did you feel the need to, chastise, yourself. From the way you've described it, it wasn't your fault. Why punish yourself?" After Victors comment a while back about Branwens family and their religious beliefs she had a sort of idea why, but needed Branwen to say it.

Branwen paused for a while. "Because in the eyes of my religion, it is still a sin. Even if it was not my fault."

"A sin." Kimberly said simply, a charge of rape was one thing, a serious and painful event to be sure. But why the young woman felt the need to punish herself was in Kimberly's eyes something that needed to be explored as well. There was a complex web of emotions, memories and events here, and the entire encounter from start to finish as well as the subsequent events was going to take some time to unravel.

"Yes. Against my will I had sexual relations with a woman. In my religion that is a crime. My father would have punish me more severely to save my soul. Strangely enough the priest stopped me."

A little confused that in this day and age there were still people who held to such archaic beliefs, Kimberly shook her head, grateful that Branwen had her back to her. Keeping these thoughts to herself though she put down the protoplaser and carefully worked the dermal regenerator over Branwens back, "Why do you think the priest stopped you?" she asked carefully.

"I don't understand. He was a very nice man, and we had a good chat. I have to go back to him after the mission, because it promised to give me some more punishment and we both forgot. Unfortunately on my way back to my cabin I ran into Victor. Although he was very sweet about it."

~ More punishment? Note to self - see that priest and find out what he's up to? ~ she thought to herself, then, ~ Krieghoff!? Sweet!?!?!? ~ more than a little confused at 'that' image she pulled herself back to the present, "Branwen, we really 'do' need to sit down and chat, and if the JAG officer wants a complete evaluation done we can do that. If we weren't about to go into battle I'd suggest we sit down and talk now, however, as soon as our current crisis has passed you and I will sort out a time to talk," ~ As will that Priest and I! ~ she added darkly, "in the meantime, promise me something," putting down the dermal regenerator she picked up a tube of cream, "One, apply this twice a day for a week, okay, and two no more punishing yourself without coming and seeing me first and talking about it. Okay." Applying some of the cream herself she made a note to have a chat with one of the full time counsellors aboard about Branwen, ~ Dallas'd be best I guess. ~ she realised.

“Alright.” She sighed. “I guess you win.” Bran smiled wanly. “Everything was going so well until this happened.” She came to her feet. “Can I go now, don’t want to keep the colonel waiting.”

Nodding, "For now, yes, but see me as soon as we're clear of this crisis okay."

"Of course, I promise." She smiled at Kimberly. "No more running. Don't worry, I am doing much better."

Nodding and smiling Kimberly indicated the door, “Okay, well scoot, go play,” she suggested, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bran said playfully and left.

"The Visitor"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG Officer, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

**** Main Sickbay USS Galaxy ****

The grey bleakness of the ceiling did nothing to help with the pain he felt all over his body. It was like he'd been hit by a Mack truck, only to have it stop, reverse and do it all over again. It felt to Steven as if whatever pain medication they had given him had been depleted and all that was left was a mind numbingly harsh pain in his abdomen. His eyes shot open, the pain he was experiencing clearly visible in them. Where were the damn nurses?

He craned his head to the right, trying to spot one of the nurses, but found nothing but an empty room. Damn. Why were they never around when you needed them? He closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing. In and out, in and out, slow deep breaths. The pain lessened to an extent where he felt something pressed against his hand. Steven turned his head, ignoring the pain that filled his side, to see what it was that he was holding. It was a hand. A hand connected to the arm of one Faylin McAlister, JAG Officer aboard the Galaxy, and her eyes were closed. He had to smile. She seemed so innocent and vulnerable as she sat there and not like the trunks-stealing seductress he had met at the pool.

He had thought about her during his brief time down on ch'Rihan, hoping that she was alright, that her daughter was safe. And, as her presence before him suggested, she was safe. Steven sighed contently as he gently squeezed her hand.

"Morning sleepyhead." He called out softly, when he saw her eyes flutter slightly. His voice was a little hoarse but he attributed that to his recent drug induced coma.

"Mmmm." Her eyelids raised lazily as she heard the male voice. Smirking slightly, she hadn't remembered coming here at first. Her mind instantly ran through the possible scenarios from the night before that would have her hearing a male voice in the morning....or what ever time it was. Her head cleared, and she looked over at him with a large amount of concern pulling in her eyes. "How are you?"

"I feel like crap. Like I've had a hundred knives plunged into my body." Steven tried to smile, despite the pain. He remembered that she had been heading down to ch'Rihan before he and the team were deployed. "How was your time on ch'Rihan?"

"Oh, I think you need to heal before I tell you about my adventures." Faylin stated sadly. "You are likely going to end up right back in that bed with a heart attack."

"A heart attack would be the least of the issues I have at present." He replied somewhat in jest. Surely whatever she had done wouldn't cause a heart attack.

"There's just been a lot going on Steven. Too much actually. I've had a life altering experience, and am still attempting to gather up the pieces from it."

"Life altering?"

"I wish you would have been here, I could have used the support of a friend." Faylin stated, grasping his hand and squeezing it lightly.

"I wish I had been here for you," He replied. "but unfortunately I had issues of my own down on the planet." He reached over and placed his other hand over hers. "What happened?"

"Olivia was killed in an accident."

Steven's eyes widened in shock. He had assumed that she had had a close call or something, but her daughter, dead... How? Why? Wait, unless it was a trick... A prank played on an injured Marine? Looking up at her, he questioned her on that. "Faylin, This better not be some sort of prank you're pulling. Cause I'm not in the mood for..."

"It's not a prank Steven. I wish it had been."

"I'm so sorry, Faylin. I don't know why I assumed it was. It's just... after what you pulled at the pool, I feel I need to be cautious around you... And 8." He reached out for her hand again. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"All I've been doing is talking Jonas. I hope you don't mind if I just sit here and concentrate on you for a while." Her tone was heavy, different. If he had any perception, he could tell that she was a changed, softer woman. "Things are different now, I'm different. I'm not the same woman you knew."

"I don't mind at all. Besides, Sickbays' are always boring places. You brighten up the place." He smiled. "I fully expect any normal person to change somewhat from the loss of a loved one. I know from first hand experience, so I'm gonna be here for you any time you need." He grinned. "Of course, I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

She glanced at the biobed, then at Jonas. "I wouldn't think that you would be going anywhere soon. You are a total mess...no offense."

Steven lay there, in the quiet of the sickbay, contemplating life. "I do have a prank of sorts to play... Nothing dangerous or such. Ready for it?"

McAlister arched a Vulcanish eyebrow. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Come closer..." He gestured for her to come close. He raised his head, despite the pain the action caused, bringing his face alongside hers and whispered into her ear. "I... think... I'm... Falling... for... you."

"Jonas, that was lame. You really need some help in the prank department." Faylin leaned back. "Your delivery really sucks dear. Let me show you how it's done." McAlister stood up, put her right knee on the chair, leaned over at kept his gaze for a moment. After that moment was up, her dark eyes flashed and she moved closer within a few inches of his face. Her rose scented raven hair fell longingly, and came to rest on his chest. "I like you." Faylin stated with a whisper as she brought her silken lips up to his. Bringing her hand up, she gently caressed his cheek as she kissed him softly, yet with a passion that contained itself just below the surface. Breaking the kiss, she smiled. "That's the proper way to do it. Do you see how different the delivery was?"

"Mmm, I prefer your way. Care to teach me the proper technique?"

"Perhaps after you get out of bed." She stated with a chuckle as she sat back down, grasping his hand once more. "Of course.....that was just a prank. I wouldn't advice running up to 8ball and doing that. She'd likely knock you out."

"Oh... That was a prank... Now I do feel silly. Guess it didn't come through when I said it, but I was being sarcastic when I said it was a prank." Steven blushed slightly.

"Your serious?"

Steven nodded.

"Um. I don't understand. We've only met twice. You don't really know me." She felt the all too familiar urge to get up and move away. Her personal 'do not get involved' internal warning system lit up like the red klaxons on the ship.

"I'm still trying to figure it all out myself. As you said, we barely know each other, but I find myself captivated by you... I don't know how to explain it, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to get to know you. To get to know who you are in here." He tapped his chest. "Am I making any sense? Or is the pain I'm experiencing making me sound like a total dick?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm not used to someone wanting to get to know me further than a one night stand Steven. I'm not sure how to react other than to want to bolt....I'll be honest. Pegging me down for a relationship is going to be the biggest challenge of your life, worse than any combat situation you've been in. Aerv attempted to marry me, and that got him no where when I kept pestering him about the validity of it.....so, if you feel up to it....go for it hon."

Steven took it all in, contemplating what she was saying. "Um... I don't think I'm ready for that. Marriage is quite a commitment. And even though it's been over three years since my last long term relationship, I'd rather get to know you a heck of a lot better before it ever got to that. And begging my ignorance, but who is Aerv?"

"I'm not talking about marriage between us, I'm talking about ....nevermind...I'll explain it later. The Romulan Ambassador." She rolled her eyes upwards, not aiming it at Steven, but at Aerv.

"Oh, okay. Didn't know we had one aboard." Steven replied. "Um, if this is supposed to be the biggest challenge of my life, then what would you say to a night of dinner and dancing? No strings attached, just a nice meal and some dancing. When I get out of here that is..."

"I can work with that. However, let me set the whole thing up....k?"

Steven nodded. "Sure go ahead. I do have a holodeck recreation of the most amazing Italian Restaurant, but that can wait for another time."

"Your assuming there will be a second date?" Faylin stated with an arched eyebrow. She watched his expression, then tapped his shoulder. "Psyche."

Steven smiled. She was always the joker.

"I believe the most important thing you can do right now is concentrate on getting better. K?"

"It's not like there's much else for me to do around here." Steven grinned.

"Well then, think of me as your motivation. Just don't think about me too much, I'd hate to see the expression on a nurse or doctor's face if you pitched a tent in the middle of sickbay." Faylin stated with a dead pan face.

"I don't know... Some of them might want to go camping. They'd have to bring their own sleeping bags and lots of marshmallows though."

"Your just not right Jonas." Faylin paused, offering him a small smile. "Listen, I have to be heading back to my quarters. I'll come back to see you in a while."

"Hey, if you find yourself wanting someone to talk to, you know, about Olivia, I'm here for you... And before you go, can you do me a favor?"

"Thank you Steven. I might do that. Um, as long as the favor doesn't involve making a campfire by your pitched tent."

"On your way out, can you see if there is a nurse or doc who could give me some more pain relief?" Steven asked. "Cause I feel like I'm on fire."

"No problem. But...hon....I think your on fire because I'm so close to you. I am rather hot you know." Winking once, she turned and headed for the nearest medical person with Steven's request.

****Important Tactical and Bridge Crew of the Galaxy please read. Important updates from engineering contained regarding the shields and weapons systems.****

"It's Time" Part One

Principle characters;
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineer
Turan Trelar - Quintite Engineer
Ensign Sota - Tactical Systems Engineer (Written by Robert S)

***Location: USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering***

"Sir." Jiiles nodded curtly as he passed Dhanishta.

"Lieutenant." she said nodding back. ~Is this how it is going to be from now on with us?~ Dhanishta wondered, as she allowed herself to steal a backwards glance at him as he took up his station. She sighed internally. It was the furthest thing from her intentions to hurt him in the manor that she had. But she knew that it was for the best that they weren't together. Less pain and heart ache this way.

They had talked very briefly after the last mission, while both of them were stuck in sick bay. There was no denying that even that small conversation was strained and full of bitterness.

She had to admit that she was keeping her distance too. Several times she had walked down a corridor, seen him chatting to someone and averted her eyes, kept her head down and quickened her pace. She also noted how he would take any adjoining corridor just to avoid walking down the same one as her.

~So this was how it was going to be; stony glares, tense silences and curt replies full of restrained emotion. Great!~ Dhani rolled her eyes. ~That's all I need.~ she groaned.

"Something wrong Sir?" a voice from below enquired breaking Dhanis train of thought.

Dhanishta looked down at the crewman, "Uh, no." she replied, quickly adding; "Carry on." She lingered behind him for a moment to glance at the console to see what he was working on before moving on.

For the most, she felt like a spare part. During the last hour or so she had been inundated with reports, questions and ideas. So many in fact that her head was spinning! Instead of trying to get her head stuck into anything she had opted for the road less traversed and just floated in Main Engineering, from station to station, on hand to reply.

It was proving to be a good idea, even though she loathed not getting her hands dirty. What startled her more was that she could actually answer the questions and shoot down ideas as well as back them up, and what was even better is that once a crewman came up to her with bright spark; she let them integrate it into the running's. It was helping her to gain respect from the team, or so she hoped, it certainly felt that way. They got to take ownership of their own idea, talk to their colleagues and inspire and motivate each other.

She had never seen this department running so smoothly. Even in the face of such an overwhelming and uncertain future everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as best they could.

She smiled as she realised how proud of everyone she was, then frowned as she realised that she was falling into the leadership role quicker than she had expected. Her frown deepened as she thought about Ella and how she wanted to impress the woman, make her proud; she had never felt that before.

"Sir?" Another voice chimed from the hubbub of activity.

Pulling herself from her reverie Dhanishta turned to face Jackson; her smile waned. "Yes?" she replied keeping her expression neutral. She knew that Jackson had wanted the position as Assistant Chief, more so than she; 'cause she had never been gunning for it in the first place. And she also knew that he was one of the members of this team that didn't really have any faith in her, based on the incident with the fruit.

"I have that report from Ensign Blair that you requested." he said coolly handing the padd to her.

If he had any negative emotions towards her he certainly didn't let it show. Taking the padd gratefully she began to read. "He has done some good work on this." she muttered nodding thoughtfully as she read. She had left him with the task of 'picking holes' in the Galaxy's defensives. Later she had cornered him and discussed setting up a second set of shield generators that would function to create a 'barrier shield'. (They had used this idea last time the Galaxy had come up against the Hydran. Dhani didn't like to admit that that had been her idea, but it had proved successful. At least this time round they had more chance to perfect it.)

The 'barrier shield' would operate separately from the main shields. They would be boosted directly from the warp drive. The power load on the shield would be such that it would only be able to run for up to 2 to 3 minutes maximum. This shield would be directed by a dedicated tactical officer who would 'rotate' it as required, either by direction from the captain or bridge tactical officer, to face a specific incoming attack or attacking ship. Due to the warp power boost this shield could take greater damage, but could only run for short durations.

She read on, the list of what had been done to the ship was extensive; Extra Shield Transmission Grids installed on the hull; 6 extra Shield Generators constructed and installed for the new shield grid; Extra EPS conduits installed from the warp drive to the shield generators to warp boost the new shield system; Secondary shield operating frequency carefully configured so as not to interfere with the normal operation of primary shields. Power output of the new shield system altered to allow for a possible output of 5 times normal power output for very brief intervals; and finally the Tactical subsystems re-written to take into account new operating protocols for the new shield.

"How long do you think it will take to get all this up and running?" she asked indicating the padd, presuming that he had read it.

"It's all done." Jackson replied flatly turning back to his consol.

Dhanishta blinked, "Excuse me?" she questioned his back, slightly irritated that he had just turned away from her. Talk about respect! Curbing her annoyance, she tried not to let it show; after all when she was in his position she rarely showed the proper decorum.

Jackson flicked his nimble fingers across his consol, pointing to the open doorway where Michael McDowell entered...

When Michael entered Engineering the first thing he did was look at both Jackson and Dhani. Jackson had noticed him so he simply made a nod his way; it was Michaels way to say ´hi´ in the briefest way he could. After that he turned to Dhani who seemed to look a bit confused.

He walked up to her and instead of using her rank he just addressed her with her name. One of the advantages of being a Civilian, and a close friend of Dhani, was that he didn't really have to rigorously follow protocol.

"Dhani, did you get Blair's progress report on the new secondary shield system?"

Following Jacksons finger Dhani looked up. Her worries about her interaction with Jackson fell to the way side as she saw her close friend and room mate. She hated the fact that he wasn't in uniform, somehow, she vowed, she would get him back into it. But for now, "Yes." she replied stepping away from the console to greet him. "I have just got the report. He was supposed to come up and give me the full low down, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of him."

Turan entered the room looking over the padd Lieutenant Gray gave him to hand over to Dhani. The giant Quentite could have enumerated several things he would have preferred rather than being the best boy once more. In fact he longed to be back at the fighter deck working with Gina, the ensign who came aboard straight from the academy a few weeks ago. For the first time, he, the alien trainee, seemed to be the more experienced of the team which really didn't feel bad.

Dhanishta turned form Michael taking the padd from Turan. It had been like this all day. She had managed to replicate a coffee along the way but as soon as one person came up, so did another, and so on, till she was surrounded with a group of engineers all talking at once. And then she would find herself with a raging headache standing alone in the middle of the room.... it was going to be one of those moments all over again, she could tell. "Thanks." she breathed to Turan. Her eyes leaped from one to the other wondering who was going to start first.

"I thought that the latest report of Ensign Blair was the complete and final report? The new shield system is ready. At least, it's ready to go through test phase 1." Michael stated simply, but still surprised. Although Turan had come in, he was still thinking about where that darn report was lingering around. His comment was followed by, "Oh, hi Turan."

Dhanishta looked down at the report that Jackson had just handed her, "This could well be it." she replied, "Why don't you talk me through it?" she offered handing him the padd. "Over some coffee?" she suggested smiling at the two of them.

Usually, Turan didn't hesitate to chat with his mentor; Lieutenant Eshe. Department briefings had a different kind of group dynamic, Turan, even after months of almost being an engineer, didn't fully understand. Anybody else would seem to be eager to tell the boss about the brilliant work they'd done, but nobody dared to be first ...

Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes out. It had been years since he pulled a triple shift. It should be illegal. "Alright,...make that a real strong coffee then."

Leading the two of them over to the replicator Dhanishta ordered three coffees, no longer caring whether they liked the beverage or not. Neither one of them seemed ready to talk so she was going to have to prompt. She could do that, sure...

"Right," Dhani took the bull by the horns, "Michael, drink." she said passing him the steaming mug, "Klingon style, that should kick start your system." she chuckled, "Turan," she smiled turning on him, "Report." she requested firmly.

"I am still searching for the 'no aliens allowed beyond this point'." The tall Quentite reported jokingly, "It was much harder to enter the fighter hangar than to actually do the refit. It took me almost ten minutes to get past the guard." Turan paused. Drinking coffee was something like an engineering tradition!

Dhanishta chuckled, "Someone should have told them that you were a civilian trainee. Any way, what's the status of the fighters?"

"To this point we have finished two of the fighters." Turan continued in a more serious way "We encountered problems with the other two. The first two were older models with a basic wiring layout for isolinear circuits. There were only minor adaptations needed.

With the newer two the wiring schematic was changed totally towards the use of bio neural gel packs. They ... that's Lieutenant Grey and the Ensign ... I forget his name ... the one who behaves a little bit strange ... already found a solution. They are now sorting out communication timing problems between the bioneural wiring and the isolinear circuits. There was still a remarkable loss of time during protocol translation."

Dhanishta nodded taking a sip of her coffee - dam this stuff was strong. Her eyes watered as she tried not to cough. "Are they on schedule?" she asked hoarsely, "I don't know how long we have till the Hydrans arrive, so far the reports are sketchy at best."

For a moment, Turan thought about giving a cup of coffee a try. "I can't say. They murmured something about changing the whole wiring boom."

It was impressive to hear at what level Turan was talking. Michael always thought he wouldn't be this far yet, but that view was clearly wrong.

Dhanishta ran her hand through her hair, "Shi.." she restrained herself from finishing that word. "I'm sure Ella has it under control." she muttered. ~She better had!~ Dhanishta thought, ~ We have enough on our plate without the fighters being down! ~ But this was not her major concern.

Report in hand Ensign Sota entered main engineering with the next part of Eshe's headache, having just spend the better part of a week rebuilding the main phaser cannon he was gratified the work was completed, though he had reservations about the work itself he was satisfied the modifications had been made within acceptable tolerances of the specifications he had been provided with. Walking up to Lieutenant Eshe he coughed politely to get her attention.

"Lieutenant, the report on the upgrades to the main cannon," he offered, holding out the padd.

****Important Tactical and Bridge Crew of the Galaxy please read. Important updates from engineering contained regarding the shields and weapons systems.****

"It's Time" Part Two

Principle characters;

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering

Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineer

Turan Trelar - Quintite Engineer

Ensign Sota - Tactical Systems Engineer (Written by Robert S)

***Location: USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering***

Dhani could easily go into the nervous breakdown now. She never realised Ella had it so hard as the Assistant Chief. Smiling at the newcomer she accepted the padd with her well practiced smile. "Thank you." she said politely. "Give me one moment?" she asked the Vulcan that had entered the group that was securely nestled by the replicators - for instant refreshment!

"Michael, what's the score with the shields? From what I remember we are using the extra shield generators that were installed last time we fought the Hydrans?" she questioned.

"Maybe it's not the right time to bother you with the question but ..." admitted Turan, "can you answer me questions about quantum torpedoes?"

Dhanishta was torn between waiting for Michaels reply and wanting to expand Turans knowledge. She hesitated for a moment...

After taking a last sip from his Raktajino, Michael placed his cup back inside the replicator. It vanished with the all too familiar sound. "What about the Torpedoes Turan?" He knew by now that Turan´s curiosity wouldn't be satisfied until his question was answered first. He continued with, "But please....keep it short, okay?"

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow at Michael and hid her amusement by taking another sip of coffee.

"Is it right they work by oscillating forth and back in time for a small quantum of time?" Turan asked.

Studying the group clustered around the replicator Sota raised an eyebrow as he watched them, then slowly, as if he might be intruding on some sacred ritual he reached over to the replicator and ordered a coffee.

"If I may interject?" The quiet Vulcan asked politely.

Dhanishta took a step back to make room for Sota, "By all means." she replied.

"The standard Starfleet Quantum torpedo utilizes a zero-point warhead with a Genus-1 superstring to create the 52.3 isoton explosive force they are capable of. The 'Transphasic' torpedo is an out growth of this technology, and increases the explosive yield radically. However, the specifics are highly classified. Without the Captains authorisation I am afraid we cannot discuss them."

Dhanishta turned and looked at the walking encyclopaedia and smirked. She realised for the first time that she actually missed being on Vulcan. There wasn't one question that they didn't know the answer to, or at least attempted to answer; except perhaps 'so how does that make you feel?' she mused.

"Well, there you have it Turan." Michael said and smiled.

"Right." Dhani said bringing the focus back, "Now that's out there, what is the status on the shields?" she asked Michael again.

"Basic specifics of those torpedoes were freely available in the educational area of the Galaxy's computer so let me explain my thoughts ... I think it's a very short time-span that in the end decides about the life and the death of a fighter pilot." explained Turan. "To know in advance somebody will shoot at you may give you an incredible advantage, right?"

Dhanishta rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Agreed," Sota nodded, "How do you propose to give the pilots the ability to predict where and when the enemies fire will land though?" he asked.

"All we have to do is to send the fighters sensors forward in time for just the blink of an eye .."

"Temporal sensors of a sort?"

"Something that way .."

"Fascinating... how do you propose to achieve this?"

~ Comical how this conversation went. Dhani asking again about that status of the new shield system...and Turan going on about Torpedo specifics. ~ Michel mused.

Dhanishta swapped sides with Turan so that she was facing Michael and Turan was next to Sota. Taking her tired looking friends arm she squeezed it briefly, leaving the other two to talk weapons she focused on Michael, "The shields!?" she prompted one last time, wondering how the hell anyone ran a meeting on this ship!

"As I mentioned ...." continued Turan ".... I understood the transphasic torpedoes work that way. So all we have to do is to take the transphasic stuff and combine it with a sensor."

"I believe we have returned to the point where I must seek approval from the Captain though before I can discuss details of that device," Sota calmly informed the Quentite.

Turan nodded. "That's the command chain, I guess ..."

"Indeed," Sota agreed, "However, I have a report to deliver, if you would like to place a request to the Captain regarding this, and should he agree, I would be intrigued to discuss this further," Sota offered.

Michael turned his attention back to Dhani again. Strange that she was now Assistant Chief. He remembered himself working in that position years ago. "Alright, about the new shield system. Like I mentioned before it's ready for test phase 1. So, all the changes and modification as outlined in the final technical solution proposal have been done. Extra Shield Transmission Grids have been incorporated in the ships exterior hull, extra generators are installed, reconfiguring shield operation frequency has been looked at and adjusted, you know...all of it. It's all outlined in the report." He looked at Dhani, face went dead serious.

"However,... to be honest, I don't feel comfortable with it. It's all new and implemented in such a short time. And we have only days, maybe not even that, to test it all. Way too short. It's asking for big problems if you ask me."

Dhanishta looked at her oldest friend on this boat. She trusted him with her life, and respected his opinion greatly. "We used a similar style last time we fought the Hydrans, if I had known that we would be up against them so soon, I would have put more time into the project. It was a rushed job then too." she admitted. "But I have full confidence in you and the rest of the team. We still have our main shields, this secondary shielding will work, I am sure of it. And even if it doesn't, we still have our main shields and we can still divert power from nonessential systems to it if needed." She smiled slightly, knowing that line should be 'when needed' seeing as she knew first hand what the Hydran Hellbore cannon could do.

"Dhani, you can't fool me. You know as well as I do that it is tight into almost every system. If some major system fails, then there's going to be some chain reaction somewhere.... Something else will fail too... The whole of the ships internal onboard system is not some LEGO build system... where all parts are independent. I'm worried...and you know that I'm not worried that easily anymore."

"It isn't although it should... " murmured Turan "... there's no reason for an energy cascade running through the consoles."

"I have to agree Sir," Sota interjected, "the upgrades to the main cannon have been completed as requested, however I would be remiss if I did not point out that these modifications are not perfect either, most should have been performed at a drydock facility," gathering his thoughts quickly he ordered his report and began, "The new Emitter Crystals have been retooled and fitted to the main cannon, though not grown specifically for pulse phaser usage these should provide an adequate performance until correctly grown crystals can be ordered to replace them. The new high capacity rapid discharge EPS banks and the high speed beam focussing coils have been fabricated and installed. Also, extra EPS conduits have been fitted to accommodate the increased power load the Pulse Cannon will require."

"CAFE and BABE have spent the last thirty hours re-writing the tactical subroutines to reflect the changes in the main cannon, they report the task is now complete and tactical should now be able to fully utilise the new targeting subroutines."

"Sir, our Main Phaser Cannon is now a functional Pulse Phaser Cannon, however, I would strongly recommend you request a test firing before we go into combat." He urged logically.

"Excuse me." another voice chimed into the mix. "Ensign." Jackson inclined his head towards Sota as he gestured for the ensemble to make room for another body. "Ambassador, Mr.McDowell." he nodded to the civilians.

"Sir." he began, now addressing Eshe, "This report has just come in, and it's imperative that you read it now." his tone indicated his own struggling emotion as he handed Eshe the data padd.

Frowning slightly, concerned at Jacksons wobbling lower lip and tight voice she took the padd and began to read. Instinctively her hand covered her mouth. She felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach, her face paled and she let out a strained exhale, "The Romulans..." she breathed, her eyes widening.

"The mind of a JAG"

Ensign Faylin McAlister

Location: McAlister's Office

"Computer, record personal log, Faylin McAlister"

"Recording"

"I just had a meeting with the JAG from the Miranda concerning the Branwen situation. To say that I'm not flabbergasted would be an understatement of epic proportions. I could spend time bad mouthing the woman; however, it would be pointless to do such a thing. There is a time for quiet and a time for action. With regards to this case, action is much needed.

Due to protocol, I am not permitted to speak with anyone concerning the case at hand that is not involved with the case itself. Let me correct that….any cases that are in progress. Once statute is set, it's a go after that. It makes my personal life hard….with someone asking 'How was your day?' "Can't talk about it." Nice, eh?

In regards to this case, I am floored that she would even suggest dropping it due to insignificant evidence…or that Branwen was or is allegedly lying. Part of being a JAG is to be indifferent to the whole situation. Yes, I have my opinion on things….it's not my place to voice them. *sigh*

There has been basically no investigation into this other than her own….which, from her comment on not being personally involved….hints otherwise. I'm keeping my focus alert….for a motion to petition for a change of venue concerning this case will, in all likely hood, be required. It would be nice to judge it myself….and if it came down the venue change being permitted….it might fly. The main concern I have is her time spent on the Miranda. Due to the fact that I've been here a very short time verses her longer assignment….it would be an option. I'm positive that she would fight it….she appears to be that type.

Along with the involvement issue, there is the conflict of interest that would tie in with the change of venue. If she has even spoken to the accused outside the 'professional' bubble of the case, it warrants confliction. It's black and white…. That is why; I have send word to Lt. Roswell that I will not be able to continue her case. I have recommended a fellow JAG at headquarters that would suit her better in this instance. The conflict comes…of course, with her dating Lt. Bental. My previous involvement and current situation with him in regards to Olivia's investigation has jaded my emotions…and I'm more likely to take my anger out on her unintentionally rather than Saul.

Back to the case. An investigation is underway…however; something of this magnitude is not going to be decided over night. Specialists' testimony has to be taken in account. From full medical exams, to full psychological evaluations, to testimony from a hypnotist, to a race specialist….to any witnesses in the area, it's all a question of getting specific answers. To even suggest that an investigation is not needed or that she did not see the need to pursue is ludicrous. Period.

Our job as JAGs is to be un-opinionated. We know the law…its limitations…and its exceptions. No statute that I have set, or reviewed has ever suggested the crime of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault is okay and can be pushed under the rug! The dear JAG commander of the USS Miranda chose the wrong woman to start a legal dispute with. This case will go to trial….come hell or my death. Which, with the Hydrans….could be any day now.

"It's Time - Part Three"

Principle characters;
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineer
Turan Trelar - Quintite Engineer
Ensign Sota - Tactical Systems Engineer (Written by Robert S)

***Location: USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering***

The padd vibrated in her trembling hand, slowly her eyes refocused on the group around her. Coughing to clear the rising lump in her throat she swallowed hard, "The Romulan Second Galae has been obliterated." she stated in a wavering voice, "Three hundred-thousand Romulan soldiers are dead and the worlds of ch'Fira, ch'Talis, and Tholimnar have been bombarded and are now burned to the ground or under Hydran control."

Michael heard what was said but could hardly believe it. Obliterated? How could a whole armada be literally obliterated? "Three hundred-thousand?" Michael mumbled. He held his right hand out, wanting to read the information himself.

Dhanishta moved her hand forward numbly, the padd was already slipping from her limp grasp. She just couldn't believe it.

Blinking for a few seconds Sota assimilated the information for a moment, "That is... troubling," he admitted finally after some thought.

"Troubling!" Dhanista repeated Sotas comment snorting. Restraining herself she bit back the rest of her response, opting to lean heavily on the wall; otherwise she was afraid that she might just be lying on the floor. Right now she wished above anything that she could just switch off her emotions, take the news on the chin like Sota with his furrowed brow and pensive stare.

"I wouldn't call it 'troubling' from my point of view 'nightmare' sounds much better. Three hundred-thousand dead? How many sentients live on the Galaxy? Two thousand? So that's one thousand five hundred time the number of people on the Galaxy." There was a remarkable change in the Quentites facial expression.

Michael looked at Turan. "That puts things in perspective, doesn't it..."

"I never thought life amongst the stars could be so cruel, dangerous .." Turan swallowed hard.

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Dhani said her hand resting on her stomach.

"In that case then," Sota said stoically, "Perhaps I should recheck the upgrades to the Pulse Cannon," he decided, "It appears we might be needing it sooner than expected." Turning to the door, "Lieutenant, if you will excuse me." he asked as he departed, not really noticing the green look on Eshe's face.

Dhanishta barely nodded as Sota left, her hand now covering her mouth.

"If I'm honest ... I sometime think it would be better to tell my people not to leave Quentin. We .... how can I say ..." For a few seconds Turan struggled for word.

Before Turan finished his sentence Dhani darted from the group, heading in the direction of the office, to the rest room beyond.

"My people don't have much experience with fights and war and all that." The tall boy didn't realize yet he was looking straight down to the floor.

The opening swish of the rest room door made him break his meditation and look up to watch his mentor disappear. "Where is she going?" he asked the remaining engineers.

"Let say that sometimes it's better to keep certain thing for yourself." Michael said to Turan.

Within five minutes Dhani returned, her eyes blood shot. Her soft smile was strained, as was her face. "Are you two alright?" she asked.

"Define alright ..." answered Turan "... and no, I don't think so."

Dhani felt another pang in her stomach. She hated to think that he might die out here, so far from his family. She cast an eye out to the rest of the room and those that occupied it. Her heart ached for them.

"Do they know?" she asked addressing Jackson and indicating the padd that Michael still held and the information it contained.

He shook his head, his vocal cords too numbed.

"Just a few minutes ago, I helped repairing fighter craft" Turan explained. "I didn't even think they were designed to kill. I was all fun. It felt so good to be a part of the team. Now ... I feel so bad."

Touching Turans arm Dhani squeezed it reassuringly and stepped away from the group. "Everyone, listen up." she instructed as she walked into the centre of the room.

"The Romulan Second Galae has been destroyed. We are all that stands between Romulus, the rest of the Quadrant and the Hydrans. Chief Grey is most likely taking her position on the bridge now, and I know that she would want you all to know how proud she is of you."

"You have all done a great job in preparing this ship. I have never seen the Galaxy looking so..." she paused thinking of a suitable word, "...Sexy!"

She cast an eye back to Michael and Turan, hoping that she wasn't making too much of a fool of herself.

Smiling at the two of them she continued, "It won't be long until the Hydrans arrive. I have faith in you all, Ella has faith in you all. We will all come out of this shiny!"

Turan forced himself to a smile. At that moment pride was a giant lump filling his throat. Dhani did her very best to cheer them all up. So he didn't want to be the one to spoil it.

"No heroics please," Dhani added, "I want to see you all here tomorrow, and the day after, *and* the day after that, and so on. Do your job, do it well and stay safe." Dhani wondered if that was enough, if that was right, if it was even her position to say anything. She shrugged and turned back to Turan and Michael, awaiting some sort of comment.

Dhani was looking for some support, so Michael nodded ever so slightly with a smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

"You two have both worked really hard over this last week and I really appreciate it. But you both need to promise me one thing." she said seriously.

"Promise you what?" asked the Quentite.

"If and when that siren goes, calling to evacuate all civilians, you two must both leave. No ifs, no buts."

Michael kept his mouth shut, but it was obvious he didn't agree with Dhani on this point. Slowly but surely a deep frown appeared. He looked deeply into her eyes.... "Since when do you care about details Dhani....?"

Dhanishta looked at him, her expression matching his, "You don't wear this uniform, you have no reason to die for it." she replied her voice clipped with the emotion she tried to hold back.

~ Leave? How? Which direction? ~ thought Turan. If there was an enemy able to kill three hundred thousands, would there even be a place to run to? No answer was the best answer, Turan decided.

Finishing his life cycle drifting away in the overwhelming crampedness of an escape pod was nothing, the young Quentite ever dreamed of. If he missed his pod there was nothing Dhani could do ...

"No, I won't die for that, but I still believe in the ideal it represents." Michael replied firmly. "Besides, I have the feeling you are going to need any capable crewmember on board, civilian or not."

Dhanishta shrugged "On your head be it. But you both need to understand that you are under no pressure to be here. If the call comes to evacuate don't hesitate if you want to leave." She lowered her voice some, "This is going to get really messy, real quick."

"By the way...." Turan threw in, "there's a Quentite saying: It's much harder to leave with things undone. Let's schedule a party.... with anything you expect to happen on a party.... music, food, drinks.... a party nobody dares to miss. That's an insurance we all get out of this alive...."

Dhani smiled, "That's a damn good idea." she looked at Michael, "Party our place, right after the Hydrans are history. Got that?" she grinned slightly although her eyes weren't smiling in the slightest, for the first time in her life she was afraid of loosing something. Him.

"Party?" Michael asked with some surprise. "Let's take one step at a time, shall we? No use in thinking about parties before all is over and done with."

Turan shook his head no. "You didn't understand the concept ..."

"Spoil sport." Dhani hurmhped. "Anyway, lets get back to work, those shields need testing. Turan you need to get back down and help with the fighters. And Michael you need to take a break. Go and relax, you have done a fantastic job." she patted his arm gently.

Michael just smiled briefly. A few hours of sleep did sound good.

Dhani watched the two civilian engineers leave with a heavy heart. She knew what they were up against and no amount of parties was going to help her make it through, what they needed was a miracle. The though crossed her mind that she may never see either of them again once the klaxons started and wished now more than ever she could say to Michael what was in her heart...

"First Date, Part 1"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

(OOC: Occurs the day before the Hydrans arrive.)

**** Holodeck 2 USS Galaxy ****

Leaning back slightly, she surveyed the outdoor area. The orchestra was programmed to play as they sat on the grassy area just short of the stage. It was one of her favorite programs, and she thought that it was a good setting for a first date. The dinner was set out on a red plaid blanket, complete with wine, glasses, and some other delicacies. A short distance from the blanket, rested the heels of Faylin McAlister. Dressing for the date had been somewhat of a chore. For the first time, she didn't know if she wanted to wear something presentable, or wear something to wow Jonas. Against her better judgement, she wore a long black silk skirt, and sheer red silk top that revealed her shoulders. The sleeves were long, just enough to caress her wrists with their soft texture. Her hair was up swept in the front, held back by ornate black pearl combs. The rest flowed freely in large curls down her back.

Glancing at the stage, her harp sat, patiently waiting for her to play it. Noticing the time on her wrist, she smiled somewhat, realizing that she had time to play the instrument before Steven showed. Other than her daughter, few people knew she had mastered the Harp. It was one of her talents that she kept hidden. Her solstice was to play without interruption...it healed her of her hurting heart. Using the steps on the side of the stage, her bare feet padded to a short distance. Sitting in a chair, she leaned the harp back to rest on her as her fingers drew out the first cord.

Stephen paused at the entrance to the holodeck, to adjust the shirt he was wearing. He made sure the lightly checked blue shirt he wore was tucked into his black trousers before he walked to the door. He'd had to replicate the shirt having none of any decent quality. It had been three years since he had felt a need to dress up, and everything he had nothing in his closet that he would have considered worthy of wearing for a date and a first date at that. He'd even had a jacket to go with it, but alas, the extra weight seemed to still cause him pain in his abdomen, so he had decided to go without.

The door hissed open as he stepped up to it, and he could hear music coming from within. Taking a few steps in, he noticed the picnic layout that Faylin had obviously set up for them. It looked perfect. And when the stage came into view, he saw that Faylin looked perfect. Sitting at a harp, playing a mellow tune that tugged at his heart, she looked so beautiful.

He took a few steps inside, allowing her music to wash over him. The clear afternoon sunshine filled the area with it's warm rays. Steven smiled as he kept walking, past the picnic, which looked divine and up to the steps of the stage. Using his walking cane to help balance, he took each step up to the top of the stage until he was able to sit on the edge of the stage, his feet resting on a couple of steps below.

Looking over at the dark haired JAG officer playing at the Harp, he couldn't help but be amazed at her skill with the instrument. He'd never had any musical ability and admired how skillful musicians were. Someone had once compared his skill with his sniper rifle to that of a piano player, though Steven could never make the same comparrison. What he did was the complete opposite as to what Musicians did with their instruments. He pushed thoughts of killing from his mind, - this wasn't the time for such thoughts - and sat there, watching her play, enjoying every minute she played.

She shut the world out as she played. It offered her comfort, to run her finger's smoothly against the strings. Her eyes closed, she was unaware of Jonas as he approached, the music was in her, flowing freely as it always did. Ending the song on a long cord, she still kept her eyes shut, feeling the weight of the harp as it rested against her shoulder. Slowly letting her eyelids rise, she gently placed the instrument back on the wooden floor. Faylin appeared lost in a distant land, that only she could get to. Her eyes stayed forward, focusing on nothing as her heart said all it needed to say to comfort her soul. A few minutes went by, before the rustling of Jonas's legs caused her to arrive back at the present time. Glancing over, she smiled her acknowledgement of his arrival. He looked as torn on the outside as she felt on the inside, both of them making quite a couple of invalids.

He cleaned up well, she thought as she walked over and sat beside him. Her legs dangled over the side of the stage, her skirt only permitting her ankles, feet, and painted toe nails to be exposed. Swinging her legs back and forth, she looked over at him with a certain innocence that he had not viewed in her before. "Your early." Faylin quipped with mocking, yet amused eyes. "How are you feeling? It wasn't too early to do this....was it?"

Steven grinned. "I guess I overestimated how long it would take to get here with this..." He held up the cane. "I'm feeling a lot better today. That was beautiful, by the way. " He glanced at the harp before returning his gaze to Faylin.

"Thank you. Although it was just a little tune."

"He reached over to his side and produced the single red rose he had procured from the Arboretum. He presented it to her. "You look amazing tonight."

Staying silent for a moment, she gingerly took the rose from his possession, holding it up to her nose and intaking it's sent. "Boston Red Tea Rose." Faylin recieted from memory. "I won't bore you.....but it is my favorite. Thank you, yet again." McAlister chuckled lightly as she raised herself from the clutches of the stage. "Are you hungry? I just prepared a light dinner, not knowing what you would feel up to eating."

Steven nodded. "Sounds divine."

"Then again, you are a Marine....and from what I know of your type...you could eat the back end of a horse if forced to."

"My type... There's a lot more to me than just being a marine." He said as he rose from his seat and walked towards the picnic with Faylin.

She reached out, grasping his one free hand with hers. "So, enlighten me. What makes up Steven Jonas, the man? What are you looking for in life, your dreams, aspirations, likes, dislikes.....all that sort. Favorite color....you know....first date information...give it up buddy."

"Well, let's see... My favorite color is a deep dark blue. I love playing poker and fishing, though I haven't had the chance to do any fishing since joining this crew." He twirled the cane around in the air in a slow circle. "I love the holodeck. To be able to partake in the most amazing wonders and replicas of famous locations is such a thrill. I hope to make colonel one day. Heck, maybe even General. Drinking is a force of habit with me. Can't help myself. But you get that in the Marines. If memory serves correctly, this is my first 'first date' in almost five years. So forgive me if I'm a little rusty."

"No problem. I'm actually enjoying getting to know a guy before I bed them." Faylin stated with an arched eyebrow, a smile grew wide across her face.

"What about yourself?" He asked as he stood waiting for Faylin to sit, before seating himself.

Tucking her legs underneath her, she answered. "My favorite color is a soft lavendar. I'm classically trained in the harp and piano.....I do drink as well....being Scottish and having parents that owned a pub. I'm happy with where I'm at career wise, if I advance, that's all the better. Some day, I want to look back on my life, and know that I grabbed life by the balls every single solitary day. At this point, I don't know if that means I'll be married or single, have any more children, or just be content eating men as a hobby. Life works itself out."

"Sounds like you're a pretty wild woman then."

"Told you I'd be a challenge. I don't open up very easily Steven....that's about all the personal information you'll get out of me for a while.....unless I get stupidly drunk....then you'll likely get to know more than you ever wanted."

Steven looked down at the bottle of wine briefly, contemplating whether she'd want to get stupidly drunk on the first date. Shaking his head at the thought, he looked up at her before responding. "I like a good challenge." Yes it was cheesy, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He liked this woman, a lot. And if that meant fighting to get to know her, then so be it.

"This all looks so yummy." He said, as he picked up a plate of strawberries and held up the plate for her.

"Well, I put it together with the plan of getting to know you." She picked up a rather large strawberry off of the plate, inspected it, then held it by the stem. "How you eat it, will tell me certain things about you."

"Okay, I'll play your game." He said with a mischevious smile. Taking the offered strawberry he bit into it, taking most of it into his mouth, letting the flavor and juice fill his mouth.

She watched with playfull eyes as the juice dripped from his chin. Keeping her reserve, Faylin handed him a napkin. "That tells me that you like to take the bull by the horns....your not afraid to let your thoughts and feelings be known. See? Easy."

Steven shook his head. "I wouldn't have chosen those words to describe how I ate the strawberry. Though I confess, I have no idea how I would have described it."

"Now, your turn. I'll eat one, and you observe, telling me what characteristics you believe I have." Taking a smaller strawberry off of the plate, she winked at Jonas before tipping her head back. Opening her cherry stained glossed lips fully, she stuck out her tongue, tracing the bottom of the piece of fruit and moaning slightly. Bringing the strawberry closer, she sucked on the full of it before lightly separating it from the stem with her teeth. Lowering her head, she smiled as she finished. "So....what does that say about me?"

Steven smiled. "Wow... I've never seen anyone eat a strawberry like that. Lets see... I get, from that, that you are a passionate, wild woman, and a little bit of an exhibitionist. You're very agressive and seem to have an inate ability to get men to... how do I put it... rise to attention, at whim." Needing something to help defuse the growing situation, he scanned the array of goodies she had provided for the picnic. "Would you like some wine?"

"No......." Faylin stated softly, biting her lower lip as she watched him squirm. "I'm supposed to be serving you, remember?" Reaching over, she stopped just inches from his face as her hand grasped the wine bottle. A gentle, yet knowing smile crossed her mouth as her eyes went from his eyes, to his lips, back to his eyes again. She paused for just a second.

He was tired of these games Faylin liked to play. And having her mere inches away didn't help. So he just decided to go for it and see what eventuated. The small gap between them closed as he moved in to kiss her.

"First Date, Part 2"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

(OOC: Occurs the day before the Hydrans arrive.)

**** Holodeck 2 USS Galaxy ****

He was tired of these games Faylin liked to play. And having her mere inches away didn't help. So he just decided to go for it and see what eventuated. The small gap between them closed as he moved in to kiss her.

"Bout time." She muttered as he came closer. Closing her eyes, she wanted to experience what a first kiss was really meant to be. Faylin let him lead.

It had been a long time since he had really kissed anyone, and he was nervous as hell, but when his lips met hers, he promptly forgot that fact. If fact everything seemed to cease to exist, except the angelic woman before him. No birds, trees, picnic, not even the Galaxy itself. The passion that had been building up in him since 'Bella's passing flowed out into the kiss. It seemed to last for a lifetime and finally he pulled back, ever so slightly, their lips seperating, but for a moment before he leant forward and kissed her again.

Intense, yet soft and complete. She had sensed that he had been 'bottled up' for a while, however, had no idea that he could be so passionate. With each man she had been with, each had certain ways about them. Aerv had a hunger and desire about him that no one could match, or so she thought. She relaxed, wondering if having Steven as a steady was something that she found herself wanting. Pulling back she sighed with a content look on her face. "I underestimated you." Leaning back, she laid down, her head between her legs, glancing up at him. "Steven....how bad do you want this to happen?"

"I don't know if there are words to describe how much I want you, but I find myself somewhat hesitant."

"Why?"

"Only because I want more. I want to be able to wake up each morning to see the same woman sleeping beside me; to have her be there when I fall; to be there for her when she needs me; to love and cherish each other. I used to have that, but that was a long time ago, and after being shot on ch'Rihan, I find myself eagerly wanting those things again. I don't understand how anyone can go through life moving from one partner to the next, not making any meaningful attachments. But if that's what you want to do, with us, then so be it."

"But, can you understand why I do that? I have a fear of being hurt Steven. I don't want to wake up one morning and find you gone, forever. Maybe I'm asking too much out of myself. Perhaps, I'm giving up the chance for true love, I don't know. I just....with everything that has gone on....it's been so lonely. With Olivia gone, I spend night after night, just wishing I had someone there for me. One night stands leave no emotional attachment, they leave nothing. I suppose I've turned the corner. I want a real relationship....not just sex. I want someone to understand me, to hold me when I cry, to be there in the good times and bad. I know it's way early to ask this....but...do you think you can be that for me?"

"I honestly don't know if we are right for each other, but I'm willing to give it a go. There's an old say that goes, 'It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.' and I firmly believe that. Those two years with 'Bella were the most memorable in my life and I wouldn't trade them for anything." Steven reached over, took her hands in his and gently stroked them. "I can't guarantee that I will never leave you. I'm a marine, and the level of danger is generally higher than most other jobs. I almost died down on ch'Rihan, and there may come a time where I may not make it back from a mission. It could be tomorrow or twenty years from now. I just don't know. I'm willing to risk that. Are you?"

"I think I am....." Turning, she raised up and looked at him sincerly with her eyes. "So, are you still falling for me?" A slight grin crossed her features.

"I'm not sure if that's the context of the word anymore. It's more like 'fallen' now." He grinned, before crawling over to her and planting soft kisses along her arm, one after another, as he slowly made his way up to those luscious red lips of hers.

Faylin giggled a little bit as he made his way up to her lips. Kissing him gently once, she pulled back. "Let's take this slow.....make it right, okay?"

Steven nodded. "I'm okay with that." He picked up the plate of strawberries. "We shouldn't let all this delicious food go to waste. Care for another?"

"Jonas, you obviously don't know the meaning of Faylin McAlister's definition of 'slow'."

Steven smiled. There was still so much about her that was a mystery. "How about you give me your definition of 'slow' while we dance? Cause I assume those instruments are supposed to play music for us, right?"

"I have a better idea. Why don't we........" She whispered her suggestion in his ear, sitting back to gauge his reaction.

Steven grinned. The idea sounded great. But he had to call her on what she had said earlier. "That's what you call slow? Damn! I'm up for it."

"I thought you would be." Grabbing his hand, she spoke firmly. "Arch."

Steven grabbed his walking stick and allowed Faylin to help him stand. "You do remember that I have bruising around my spine, right? So, we gotta go nice and easy."

"Steven, nothing about me is nice and easy............................."

"Have you never done it nice and slow? Or are you an 'always doing it quick and rough' kind of woman?" Steven asked.

"Slow bores me Steven. Besides, being aggressive is a good trait to have. It gets you what you want."

"And what is it that you really want?"

"I dont' know. I honestly haven't experienced going slow all too often."

Entering her quarters, she waiting for him to sit. As he did, she reclined so that her head was in his lap, yet again. "Which do you prefer."

"I'll leave that up to you." He replied softly as he brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes.

"Your not making this easy, are you?" She paused, closing her eyes as he brushed her hair. They remained closed, and Faylin felt calm enough to feel the tension slip from her body somewhat. A few minutes later, a welcoming sleep came to carry her away to softer times.

"Nope." Steven replied. He closed his eyes for a moment. It had been a long day and he was exhausted. He contemplated whether he had the energy for a night of passion with this beautiful woman. Would she be dissapointed if he didn't? Steven's eyes shot opened when he realized she had not replied. "Faylin?" He called out softly.

"Yeah?" She mubbled quietly. Half in and half out of sleep, her mind battled to stay awake, yet her body revolted. "Okay." Her head relaxed back, with her thick raven hair half covering her face yet again.

"Someone needs some sleep" He mumbled as he gently raised her head from his lap and slid out from under her. Letting her head rest on the fabric of the sofa, he stood up and walked over to one of the doors that he could see in her quarters. Opening it, he saw that it was not Faylin's room but rather Olivia's. Pausing for a moment to rub his tired face, he wouldn't admit that a tear formed and he was brushing it away, he gently closed the door.

Finally he found her room, and walked in. Much like the rest of her quarters, many exotic and wonderful things adorned the walls, but he paid them little attention. Pulling back the silky bed sheet, he returned to Faylin.

"Time for bed, young lady." He said, not sure if she was awake enough to hear him.

Carefully placing his arms under her knees and shoulders, he picked her sleeping form up and carried her to her bed. Having never had to put a woman to bed like this before, he wasn't sure if he should remove her dress. With the sight of some lingerie peaking out from under the top of her dress, and the knowledge that he had seen most of what she was hiding underneath, he struggled to pull the dress up and over her head revealing her sexy lavender camisole.

Shaking his head at the thoughts that suddenly entered his mind, he slipped her legs under the sheet and pulled it over her supple form, before tucking it around her shoulders.

He turned to leave, but found himself very tired all of a sudden. Rubbing his eyes, to try and wake himself, he found it hard to keep them open. Looking down at Faylin, he contemplated whether she would mind if he slept in the other half of her bed. Deciding that she wouldn't, he walked around to the other side and removed his shirt, before climbing in, under the sheet.

Reaching over, he kissed her on the forehead. "Good night."

Lying back down, he quickly fell asleep, his dreams filling with strange, and yet peaceful things.

"What goes unsaid between blood"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe

Assistant Chief of Engineering

***Location: USS Galaxy, Deck 36, Main Engineering***

Dhanishta couldn't admit a love for the Romulans, they never really came into her scope of existence, but three hundred-thousand of them dead. She would be lying if she said it didn't affect her.

Even though the boys had done their best to keep her smiling, and she them, she still found herself deeply troubled. She needed a moment away from everyone.

Quietly she slipped into the Engineering office.

She looked around, noting that Ella hadn't really done anything to personalise it. Dhani wished that she had. The last thing she needed right now was to remember what happened in here all that time ago. Even in the midst of this new chaos, old ghosts came to haunt. Was it some sort of specials night and she, the dish of the day?

Rubbing her temples she fought back the urge to cry and settled into the Chief's chair, pulling her knees up to her chest.

For a time she just sat there, rocking softly back and forth, deliberating whether it was okay to cry on duty or not.

Numbly she stared up at the floating logo on the computer screen on the desk. Her eyes closed slowly and she took a deep breath.

"Computer," she called out softly, "begin recording."

"I really didn't want to start this with a cliché," Dhani began, "but, if you are watching this, or listening, or however this thing works, then I am truly dead. I don't think there is a way of coming back from this one." she attempted to joke.

"I have never done this before, but I am sure you are well aware of that, seeing as if I had you would have seen it at least five times." she frowned slightly realising that she had just admitted to her parents just how dangerous her life on the Galaxy was. She shrugged, she supposed it didn't really matter now; if they were listening to this then she was dead.

"To be honest I never really thought this was important, maybe I thought I was impervious to harm, I don't know." she shifted in the chair "Maybe it's because we never really spoke about anything, ever. So it just didn't seem right." Her eyes cast to the floor. Talk about dysfunctional family. She couldn't talk to them when she was alive, but when she was dead she would bear all. ~Nice!~

"I know that that's not changed, but I have. So many things are different now, and what I find really hard is that I don't have the time to explain it all to you, and I know that I should."

She rested her head on her knees for a moment, "I should have spent more time with you on Trill." she confessed glumly.

"I should have taken the time to tell you about my life, about me, about everything that happened." Her eyes misted, "But I didn't." her voice wavered and broke as a tear slipped down her face.

"I ran. Just like I run from everything; I know what you're thinking dad, 'my little girl doesn't run from anything'" Dhanishta imitated a male voice through her tears, "but I do and I have. And I wish right now that I could run from this. The Hydran are coming. They have already taken down the Romulan Second Galae and three of the outlying worlds. And I am scared…" her voice pitched as she began to sob.

"I'm so scared daddy!" she let out through hiccups of tears, "And I just wish you were here to tell me that everything is going to be all right. I just want you to…" she broke off burying her face into her knees.

For a moment the only noise was the gentle sighing and the occasional murmur as Dhanishta wept.

"I remember parts of the coma." she admitted quietly. Taking a deep breath she lifted her head and leaned back in the chair, letting it bounce with her weight.

"I remember… everything."

She let that hang for a moment while she worked out what she wanted to say and how. Wiping her nose on the back of her hand she sat up, letting her knees fall to the side, to rest on the arms of the swivel chair.

"I remember when Kala came into my mind to try and save me. I remember the things I saw when Death tried to take me. And I remember you mom, telling me that you loved me. I could taste you tears." Her face broke again tears welling in here eyes so that she couldn't see properly.

"I remember how hard it was for you to say those things to me. And I screamed out for you." Another tear slipped down her cheek. But she didn't wipe it away. She let it run, along with her nose. A drip tickled her top lip as it slipped down to her lips.

"I screamed out to you, with my mind and I know that you heard me." she protested to the air.

"But when I woke up you were all so shocked. It didn't seem fair to tell you then. And it's even more unfair that I'm telling you now. But I have to." She sat up straight an urgency overcoming her.

"Mom you need to know this." She stared at the screen of the console, grabbing the desk she pulled herself closer to it, "I forgive you, for everything. And I love you too."

She stared harder, as if she could see her mothers shaking head through the screen, "I mean that. I love you mom." she stated again for the disbelieving woman she knew her mother to be.

Reaching out she placed her finger tips on the screen, felt the static through it. A meek smile crossed her face as she thought about her potential fate.

"So many things go unsaid between blood." she said cryptically. "But sometimes when you think that the other person knows how you feel about them, they don't. Not really. It needs to be said. And I should have said it a long time ago."

Her head titled to the side as she once again made eye contact with the possibility of death through the screen.

"Kala, what you did for me, when I fell into a coma. Coming here to my ship and trying to get me out of it. Taking me to Trill and staying by my side for all that time. Putting you life on hold for *me*. Watching me …dying." she swallowed hard.

"I don't know what that must have done to you. And I am so sorry for putting you through it. I wish that I could say hand on heart that I would do the same for you, I am the older sibling, if only by minutes. I wish that I could say honestly that I look out for you as much as you do for me. But you have never given me the opportunity to." She half laughed, a small smile flittered on her lips.

"Kala I love you, for everything. For being my sister. For holding my hand through what could only have been turmoil for you. Your blood runs through me, as mine through yours and I can always feel your watchful eye, hear your words, feel your embrace and I do love you. More than anything. Without you I wouldn't be here."

"It needs to be said - thank you."

"I love all of you." Dhanishta uttered before tears overwhelmed her once more.

"Realities of War"

Ensign Faylin McAlister JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

**** Ensign McAlister's Quarters USS Galaxy ****

Blinking, she moved ever so slightly. Morning had arrived, or so her mind told her it had. It was the first time in a long time she actually was able to get more than four hours of sporadic sleep. Her eyes fell upon Jonas, with a slight curiosity as to how the night ended. She recalled falling asleep on the couch, however, finding herself in her camisole and matching panties, she arched a single eyebrow. He was turning out to be more of a stinker than she originally thought. Seeing him stir, she quickly played possum.

Steven woke feeling refreshed. He felt like he had slept for a week. The pain he had been experiencing for the past couple of days was gone, and he hoped it wasn't coming back. If he was lucky, he might be able to give up using that damned walking stick. He folded his hands behind his head, lifting it off the super soft pillow he had slept on. Super soft pillow! He didn't own any super soft pillows. Confused but for a moment, flashes of what had happened the night before filled his mind and her name escaped his lips softly.

"Faylin"

He was rewarded with a soft moan from next to him. Turning his head, he saw her lying there, sleeping peacefully. He saw her very ample chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths through the sheer silk sheet that adorned her bed. He smiled as he thought of what had happened the night before and what could have occurred had she not fallen asleep.

Changing his posture so he was lying on his side, head propped up by one hand, elbow digging into the pillow, he looked over at her dozing form, Steven couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for the recent hardships she had just been through. He knew he'd never get to meet her daughter and that made him think of his sister, - half-sister, he corrected himself - wherever she now was. She was his only family, and he hoped that Katrina had now found herself someone to share her life with, much as he hoped that this might turn into the same. Steven made a mental note to try and locate the only mother he had really known. She deserved happiness in her life, much like the woman before him.

Reaching over, he brushed a strand of hair from over her eyes much like he had the night before and gently stroked her rosy cheek. She looked so beautiful lying there. A vision of beauty.

Suppressing a smile, she opened her dark eyes slowly. "Morning." Her voice was exceptionally feminine, yet outlined by a courseness that not using it for eight hours would produce. One thing about McAlister that he was about to find out was that...she was not a morning person. Turning to face him, she appreciated the warmth he radiated. It felt comforting. "Your a bad boy." The manicured index finger waggled teasingly back and forth.

"Morning yourself... I might be a bad boy, but I have to say, I am astonished by just how eager you were last night." A playful smile formed on his face as he winked at her.

"Yeah eager to sleep." Stretching she looked over to watch him looking at her. "See anything you like?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do see something I like... That's not a Vulcan IDIC statue sitting on your desk?"

Faylin smirked.

Steven smiled. "I'm kidding. *You* are the only thing I see before me that I'm interested in."

"Well, too bad for you. I have security duty in an hour." The slight mischievous look that crossed her features for a mere second was not lost on the Marine. "I do....have to get a shower....be right back." Flipping the covers back, she stood, heading for the doorway. "Wanna join me?"

"I'd love to." Steven rose from the bed and walked over to where she was standing. Steven took her outstretched hand in his and drew close. Reaching up with his free hand, he gently pulled her head towards his and placed a short soft kiss on her lips.

Breaking back, she viewed her little red message light blinking. "Huh." Padding over to the side of the bed where one of her console's were located, Faylin pressed the button. Her eyes darted back and forth, before her face grew pale. Shifting on the bed, McAlister steeled her gaze on Steven. "I've been deployed to the planet." The reality of war hit her with force as she remained pasted to the bed.

Steven moved around the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt in his back. He sat on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her tenderly. He didn't know what to say, so he just held her close, letting her know he was there for her.

Her eyebrows knitted as her heart started to beat a little faster from anxiety. She was so green, one mistake and it could be her life...or the life of her comrades'.

"Hey, "he called out softly, "If you find yourself overwhelmed down there, find the Galaxy's Second Platoon. They're the best soldiers down there; they're my soldiers; I've been training them and they'll look out for you." Steven wished he could go down with her, but the doctor had not yet given him clearance to do so.

Offering a soft, yet fake smile, she attempted to console herself and him. "Eh, I'll be fine. What could possible happen?"

Steven sighed. "I'm not going to bullshit you, Fay. It's war and in war, a lot can happen."

"Yeah, so I'm told."

Steven looked down at his hands for a moment. "I want you to promise me that you'll keep you head down, that you won't try and be a hero." He looked into her eyes. "'Bella tried to be a hero once and it cost her, and me, the ultimate price. And I'd rather see you return so I can take you out on a second date." He smiled, though it wasn't a very convincing smile. He knew just how bad it was likely to get, and he wished beyond all hope that she would survive.

Her frown grew a little larger. "I'm scared Steven."

"I know you are, and I wish I could go down with you. I tried that already, but got shot down. No pun intended. Somehow I doubt the doctors would let me..." He stopped, unable to go on. He didn't want her to go. But she had orders. "There's no shame in hiding. So if things get tough and you find yourself alone, with no support, look to the Romulans. They may be a staunch and proud people, but when those Hydrans come, and it seems more and more likely that they will, they may open up more to us outsiders and offer shelter and the like. They know their city better than us, and way better than those tripods. Use them."

He reached up and brushed her hair from her eyes again. "Come back to me."

"I will." She kept her gaze on him, mentally crying out her opposition on the orders. "When I get back to the ship."

"You could always break your arm or leg and therefore need time to heal, but in the short time I've known you, I somehow doubt you'd do that just to avoid something. Even something as big as going to war."

"I'm not doing that." Her face froze with worry as she sat.

"I didn't think you would. I was just putting it out there as an option. Heck, I'm not medically allowed to head down and I really want to be down there. You know... I'm not very good at these kinds of situations. It was always just 'Bella and I and we were for the most part always sent out into the field together. The Second will aid you should you need it. Just talk to a guy named Furji, Sergeant Major Niklass Furji. Tell him I asked him to look out for you."

"Okay...but listen...I know that it's hard for you not to talk about her...but let's try and start to make our own history Steven. I don't mean to be...a bitch...but imagine if every third word out of my mouth was Saul."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I do tend to talk about her too much. I'll try and mention her less if you... hang on a minute. You and Saul... Not Saul Bental, the Intel Chief? Shit. I should have seen that one coming. No wonder why Nara was so angry that you were aboard the ship."

She waved it off. Suddenly the little altercations with Nara meant nothing.

"How about we make a little history by you coming over her and kissing me?" He smiled mischievously.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Glancing sideways, she returned the smile with one of her own as she slid over. The threat of her life ending faded for just a moment.....

"Why We Fight"

(Occurs 10 minutes after "The Hour of the Sword")

Principal Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Captain Christopher Summers

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 1, Bridge

Daren looked at the main viewscreen for a moment longer, digesting the information displayed there and then nodded to himself, "No sense in waiting, I guess," he said quietly. "Operations, give me a fleet-wide channel. I want to speak to everyone."

A few minutes passed as the hook-up was established. "It's ready, sir."

"Thank you," Daren nodded. He stood took a breath, and let the words that were welling up inside him flow out.

"This is Captain Daren M'Kantu of the Galaxy. In a under an hour, we will be engaging the Hydran forces advancing on Romulus, and I want to take a moment to tell you why. Not as odd a reason as you might think, since a smart young officer came to me today and asked why we didn't withdraw the fleet, why we didn't surrender our position and fight the Hydrans another day - and if he wasn't certain, then there are others of you that must be equally uncertain as to why we're here as well."

"Why don't we leave?" Daren asked. "Why don't we run? That would seem to be the smart thing to do, I agree. Perhaps even the wisest. It is, in fact, what I expect some might prefer that we do, so that the Romulans will be crippled as a power in the Quadrant, perhaps even eliminated. The Hydrans certainly expect us to run. Their allies, the Breen and the T'Kith'Kin, expect us to run. I believe that even the Romulans themselves expect us to run."

"Why, after all, would we stay? The Romulans have been our political and military enemies for generations - why would we stay and fight and die for them? What possible reason could we have for doing that? What possible reason is there," he finished softly, "except that it's the right thing to do?"

"There are millions - billions - of people on Romulus right now, people whose lives are unraveling. Fear is destroying the institutions that have governed and protected them since their father's father's times. Not Praetors and powerful officials... but people; common, ordinary people. People like you, people like me; ordinary people, who have families, lovers, and friends. People that see the dark tide of chaos sweeping up to destroy them and those that they love and are helpless to prevent it. People that, whether we know them or not, whether we even like them or not, are looking up here right now and praying that someone, something, will stand between them and that darkness. That someone will stand between them and certain destruction. That someone will fight for them, because they cannot fight for themselves. That's why we stay, that's our job; it is what we do, and what we are."

"In times of peace we are the peace-bearers and explorers and the knowledge-seekers that expand the boundaries of our universe - but, in times like this, in times where the olive branch peace will not carry the day, then we must set it aside and take up the sword and shield of the warrior, the defender. We stand against the darkness for those that cannot, barring the way, so that they - all of them, Romulans and Humans and Vulcans and every other race that fills our universe - can keep on reaching for the stars, can keep on growing and learning and living."

"We stand today for them: the men, women, and children who asked for our help. Today we are their sword and their shield, the answer to their whispered prayers. That is why we will stay and offer battle to the approaching fleet, why we will defend those who have been among our most staunch of enemies... because to surrender anyone to the darkness - even an enemy - is to lessen us all, and to cast a shadow on the bright future that we built our Federation to find. We fight, and if necessary, we lay down our lives, so that others may live."

Daren paused a moment, and then ended with, "Be proud of yourselves and your comrades-in-arms too, because there has never been your like in the record of civilization throughout the known galaxy. Be strong. Be brave. Be the heroes that in your hearts you know that you are, and the darkness will not prevail." He smiled slightly. "I am proud to stand here with every one of you. M'Kantu out."

***

USS Miranda
Deck 1, Bridge

Commander Jaal Jaxom looked to his left, to where Captian Christopher Summers now sat, a strange, faraway smile on his face. "Aren't you going to say anything, Captain?

"No." Chris shook his head. "I think Darren pretty much covered it."

Jaxom gave an understanding nod as 'Commander Aello reported that the Romulan Fleet - even the cloaked ships - was moving into Position Alpha.

"Acknowledged." the Captain tossed back. "Commander Harris, signal all Starfleet Ships. Position Alpha. Put us right in the middle of the Romulan formation. All fighters not assigned to planetary CAP to the front of the globe, positioned behind the lead warbirds."

As Harris carried out the order, Chris leaned back, watching his tactical display as various ships moved into position. Above the ecliptic, the purple marker showing the Hydran Armada edged ever closer.

Now they waited.

Thirty-six minutes.

It wouldn't be long.

***USS Miranda Main Sickbay***

Anjoli D'Bari walked into sickbay from spending a few minutes in the ship's chapel. The time there, with others of like mind and concern, had been well spent.. She knew that the coming hours and days would be filled with difficult choices and unbearable things. The few moments of Communion with the cosmos and the Great Mother had settled her spirit and prepared her for the battle.

Anjoli's yeoman moved quickly to her side, matching her pace. The young man was skittish, and for good reason. This would be his first major battle aboard the Miranda.

"All the emergency areas are fully stocked and ready for incoming, the transporter-safe areas are on line, and all equipment was put through level 2 diagnostics...."

Anjoli gave him a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"What would I do without you, Teep? Well done."

"Yes mamm.....thank you." Teep said, blushing shyly.

The pair walked into the main bay, where many of the medical staff were gathered together. She made eye contact with so many, each of them deep in thought and preparation for what was to come.

"Teep....put me on the Medical Comm Channel, please...."

The yeoman did as asked, a quiet chirp drawing every medical person's attention.

"This is D'Bari. We've prepared for days like this. We've done sims past the point of exhaustion, scoring among the best teams recorded. Most of you have been tested in real life, your skills and strength purified in the crucible of battle."

She looked at the younger staff with a small smile.

"For those of you that are worried that you'll be scared and be unable to perform your tasks. Don't concern yourself with that. We're all scared, especially those of us that have been through the fires before. But I also know that you'll do your jobs with compassion and distinction despite all of the fear and trepadation."

She looked to her fellow officers and staff with pride.

"I have served with more sickbays than I care to admit. I've been from Chin'Toka to Terra to Cardassia Prime, working with the cream of the medical profession."

"Never have I been more proud to be a healer than I do today, standing here with you. Thank you all for what you will do today, and in the days to come."

"And remember...when all is said and done....the first one's on me. That is all."

She made the motion across her throat, and Teep killed the comlink.

"Let's hang out our shingle--the Doctors are in. Computer....go to status gold."

"I've got a boyfriend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[happens just before beaming down to the planet]

Lieutenant Man'darr Maivia
Operations Manager USS Miranda

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO USS Galaxy

It took her a little while, but finally Branwen found the quarters she was looking for, and hit the chime. She really wanted to see how her new friend was doing, and she had an hour to spare before having to go back to Galaxy.

Man'darr was preparing for the Away Mission down to Romulus with the Hazard Team and some Marines as he finished pulling on the Hazard Suit, when he heard the chime sound.

He wondered who it could be as he approached the door. Opening it, caused him to grin slightly at the sight of the marine he had met aboard Starbase Atlantis. "Hello Branwen. Enter, what brings you here?" "Hello Man'dar." She smiled brightly at him. "I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I should come by for a visit. How are you doing?"

The door closed as Branwen entered the room. He wasn't used to people asking how he was doing as very few, if any ever did. "I am doing well, thank you for asking. I am just preparing for the recon m is sion I will be going on down to Romulus. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?"

"That would be nice. The Marines are going as well, we are working together with yours." She said following him inside.

Man'darr walked over to the replicator. "Tamarian Sunrise," he ordered, figuring she would like the drink. The beverage and glass materialized a second later and he handed the beverage to Branwen.

"Thank you. We will be leaving soon." She said. "I guess making sure you guys can go down safely." Branwen smiled at him.

"Yes, I've heard that. I wish you luck in your mission."

"Thank you. And you on yours." She sat down. "So tell me, have you made more friends?"

Man'arr shook his head. "No more than the last time we spoke. I believe you are the only friend I have, Branwen...I do not understand why me making friends is so important."

"For support. You are hurting, friends help make things more easy." She said g en tly.

"I will survive. I am tougher than most others...especially terrans. But do not get me wrong, I value your friendship greatly."

"Good because I like you."

"I am glad, as I like you too and value our time together."

"Me too." She blushed, liking him very much.

Man'darr noticed the young woman blushing. "I do not mean any embarrassment...but why are you blushing? Have I said something to cause you to blush?"

"Nothing." She looked anywhere but at him. "Your quarters are very nice."

He wondered why she was avoiding eye contact with him. Why had she suddenly seemed to be nervous? "Thank you." He hated trying to figure out human emotions and feelings--he had never been any good at it. That was something his sister had perfected and wished she was here to tell him what was wrong with his friend. 'Could she be attracted to me? No, thats im p ossible...isn't it?' Man'darr thought to himself. His past relationships had ended in tragedy...the first with T'Pla being killed and then Dr. Hamilton cheating on him. Even if his friend was attracted to him, could he trust her to remain faithful...after all, they were on two different ships, although he found her to be quite attactive. He finally decided after a few moments of silence that he should atthe very least ask her. He sat down in a chairacross from Branwen. "Branwen...are you attracted to me?"

"I find you attractive to look at, and extremely nice. But worry I will not act upon it." In her nervousness she began to talk faster. "I have just done a very bad thing, letting myself be hypnotised by a woman, and do... stuff. Therefore I am not a virgin anymore, I am a fallen woman. And I always kept myself, I have been in love twice, and both times the men chose to another wo man over me. So I know I'm undesirable, I just want to be friends." She finished breathlessly.

"That is understandable...." 'hmmm, hypnotized by another woman?' Man'darr thought. 'There is only one species capable of doing that and yet only one that I know of who would actually commit such an act with another woman.' His suspicion was that the woamn was Dr. D'Bari. That woman would sleep with anything with two legs--He wouldn't even put a borg past her. The image that came from that thought was a scary one as he quickly forced it from his mind. "But believe me, you are not undesirable. You are a very attractive and friendly woman. If I had not thought so, I wouldn't have accepted your friendship. I am sorry that you have had a bad past with lovers. Capellans do not harm women or anyone who has not given them reason to. So I do not wish for you to be afraid of me. If anyone does hu rt you , just let me know and they will quickly learn what an angry Capellan is capable of," he finished with a slight grin.

"But you are not interested, I totally understand, no problem, I would never have said anything. Really I am used to it." She smiled. "Friends sounds good. And I am not afraid of you. "

"I neither confirmed nor denied that I was interested in you. But...you should know that I have also had a bad past with lovers." Man'darr sighed and paused for a moment before continuing. "My first love was killed in a rock slide before I went to Starfleet Academy. My second love, who served aboard the Miranda, cheated on me with another male. So, I am wary when it comes to reationships, though I believe I would enjoy one with you, as you have a good heart about you."

"You mean that." She squeaked. "You like me." Bran now blushed very red.

Man'darr looked at the woman, seeing h ow happ y she appeared to be at the news that he liked her. He stood and sat down next to her on the sofa, taking her hand into his and kissed her tenderly.

She trembled. Mixed emotions going through her. 'I am sorry, Man'darr for my reactions. I don't know much about sex and stuff and I am scared." She whispered.

"I didn't say anything about sex, nor would I ever push you into it unless you were comfortable. Remember, I'm Capellan, not human. We have a code of honor that we live by. You also have nothing to be sorry for."

Another nervous giggle. "I have never had a boyfriend."

"Well, I suppose there is a first time for everything."

Branwen smiled. "I guess we should try to get to know each other a bit better. It's only the second time we have met."

"You are right...what else do you wish to know about me?"

"Everything." She grinned. "Everything you want to share."&n bsp; ; Thi nking about how difficult life must be for him just now. Gently she touched his shoulder.

"I believe I have told you much about my life and how I am alone now," that feeling of depression came about as he spoke the words...remembering holding his sister in his arms as she died. "Well..." he started. "I am originally trained to be a security and tactical officer, not an operations officer. I came into this department following a demotion from my formerassgnment after I struck a Klingon Ambassador and nearly killing him due to his comments about the Federation."

"And what about your hobbies, the things you like to do to relax." Bran asked softly. She felt so much tension in him, and hoped she would be able to relieve some of it.

"Well, I enjoy practicing the combat arts on the holodecks, swimming, surfing, playing the guitar, and pareses squares. What about you?"

"I l ike deep sea diving, fencing, reading, Celtic history and art. And I like to learn new things and hobbies." She smiled at him. "Doesn't sound like we are very dissimilar.

"Not at all," Man'darr agreed. "Why did you feel that nobody wants you?" Man'darr asked. "You are a beautiful woman. Is there some reason as to why you think that? Has someone told you that?"

She blushed. "I liked two guys recently, and I kind of let them know but they both chose other women over me. Something like that doesn't really give you self-confidence." Bran said honestly.

"I suppose that is true. It has been my observation that many male species, especially of the terran breed, tend to prefer females who will let anyone into their bed. Capellans do not have that problem as we have a code of honor about such things. If a woman who has declared herself to a Capellan Warrior is caught in bed w ith an other, both she and the male she had the affair with are killed. It may seem barbaric to many other species, especially the Federation, but it works."

"Whoah that is a bit harsh. Not that I would ever do something like that. But I think it is not a fitting punishment, Man'darr." She was a little shocked.

"That is the way of my people, and it has worked for hundreds of years. You do not see such extra-marital affairs taking place in the Capellan Tribes as you do with most other species. I am not saying you would do such a dishonorable thing as you have given me no reason to think in such terms. Is there anything else spcifically that you wish to know of me?"

"Do your people have such as the punishments for everything? And do you expect me to adhere to your standards in everything?" She watched him a little worried that she would not be able to live up to that.

Man'darr sighed. Capell an relationships were often difficult with other species--especially those not aware of Capellan customs. "No, I do not expect you to act as a capellan female, however, I do expect that you remain faithful to me and me only. I have had one female be unfaithful and lucky for her and the male she had the affair with that we are on a Federation ship and not on Capella Four. I hope I am not frightening you with these rules, as I do not mean to.

"No, because I would never do that. My faith forbids it as well." She explained. "A partner should be for life." She said seriously.

Man'darr grinned. "That is good to hear." He looked at her...it was rare to find such a woman who would dedicate herself to one male outside of Capellan Society. "So,do you have any siblings?"

"Oh yes." Branwen smiled. "Nine." Then she looked a little sad. "I am only in contact with two of them. By eldest sister, one raised me since I was 14, and my youngest brother who now lives with her."

"Where are the others?" Man'darr asked. "Why are you only in contact with two of them?"

"Because I have been excommunicated by my parents." She said softly. "The same as my sister and my younger brother."

"May I ask why you've been excommunicated?"

"Because I don't want to live like them. To punish everything that is different with lashes and beatings. And to distrust everyone that is not like them. I never regretted it although I do miss them to be honest." Bran said.

"It is good that you do not communicate with such people, Branwen. But I am glad that you remain in contact with two members of your family, you are lucky to have them. Enjoy your time with them because you never know what tommorow may bring."

Akwardly she held his arm. "Yes. I am, I really am, Man'darr. And maybe you can get to know my sister so she can be family to you as well."

"Perhaps..." Man'darr glanced at a nearby chronometer. "It is about time for me to report to the shuttlebay and duty. I am glad you came, Branwen and I hope to see you again soon," he said, standing.

"Yes me too." Bran said akwardly, not really sure what to do now.

He moved to kiss her before leaving on his mission.

The marine was a bit stiff. "Uhmm. I will not have sex before marriage really." She gave him a small kiss.

"Last time I checked, a kiss did not mean you had to have sex. Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss," Man'darr said with a slight grin.

She giggled. "Sorry, this is all kind of new to me. And I don't want to sin again."

"I am quite sure that kissing is not a sin between two who feel strongly towards each other," Man'darr said as he and Bran exited his quarters.

She hesitated. "Now that we are boyfriend and girlfriend, I think you must know that I am pressing charges against one of the female officers of this ship. You know, what I told you before earlier, I don't want her doing this to any other women."

"Ah...am I correct in my guess that this officer is Dr. D'Bari?"

Bran flushed deep red. "Yes... how did you know? Has she done this before?" She asked suddenly alarmed.

"Dr. D'bari is the only one that I could think of who would commit such an act, using her Rigellian scent."

"Her scent?" Bran asked curiously.

"Rigellians, such as Dr. D'Bari have the ability to release phermones that attract males to the females. It is mostly effective with just males, but Dr. D'Bari must have figured out a way for it to work on females as well in order to take advantage of you like she did."

"I think my therapist said something like that. Its all so confusing to me. It is really not like me to go and see the jag officer. I just don't want her doing this to somebody else. What do you think?"

"You must do what is right in your heart, Branwen. She obviously took advantage of you, and that was not right...dishonorable would be a more appropiate word."

"And I want that stopped. I am glad you will stand by me." She smiled.

"Of course I will stand by you, Branwen," Man'darr replied as they neared the shuttlebay.

"Thank you." She gave him a quick hug.

"It is not a problem. Branwen. Perhaps I will see you on the surface," he said, returning the hug and then entering the shuttlebay.

"I hope so." She said and then left with a big smile on her face.

"Last Logs of First Officers"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, IRV D'Decius (NPC)

"Computer, begin personal log.

"Personal Log, Lieutenant Commander Tarin Iniara, stardate 60609.22.

"This will be my final log entry before the Hydran fleet arrives.

"This is my first mission as an XO of anything, much less a Galaxy-class starship. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. The Officer Candidacy Program certainly sends you to the Fire Caves and back, but it can't possibly prepare you for everything. That was just a test. This is a test too, but now it's real. Lives are at stake, billions of them. And if we can't hold back the Hydrans here, how far will they go before they are stopped?

"That's not something I want to think about right now.

"Instead, I find myself thinking back to my days in the Resistance. I don't know if it's because I'm trying to psych myself up, or if I'm just reminiscing on the good old days.

"Good old days. Yeah, right.

"No, what I think it was is that back then, no matter how terrible the odds were, we persevered. We did what had to be done, no matter how hard or unsavory the work was. I don't want to go back to that time...Prophets know I don't, but if I could just recapture some of that fire I had back then...

"Someone once told me that the fiercest enemy is the man who has nothing left to lose. Back then, I had nothing left to lose but my own life. How is this any different?

"Damnit, I'm overthinking things again.

"Oh. So get this. Commander tr'Vrentath, the XO of the D'Decius, commed me a couple hours ago. He wanted to wish me luck in the upcoming battle. It was unexpected to say the least; then again, he strikes me as a rather unconventional Rom...Rihannsu. Not that that's a bad thing. On the contrary... Oh, I don't know where I'm going with this.

"...And now I'm rambling.

"Note to self. Go congratulate Commander Corgan. In person. And see how Michael has been. Yeah yeah, he's been an Ops Chief before...he's been a Captain before, but still. Always good to check up on people.

"And talk to Aristi about doing something to raise crew morale. Something to get their minds off this...mess.

"Speaking of. The Hydran fleet will be here in...twenty seven minutes. Best not to keep them waiting.

"End log."

********************

"Computer, begin recording personal log.

"This is the personal log of Colius ir-Korthre tr'Vrentath, First Officer of the Imperial Rihannsu Vessel D'Decius.

"This is my final entry into this log.

"Just as the leaders of the Imperial Navy view the amassed Starfleet ships as cannon fodder, so too do they see ships such as the D'Decius. We have been placed on the front lines, as the first line of defense against our enemies.

"This vessel may be old, and she may be scheduled for decommissioning within the year, but she is still my home. And I still love her. Serving aboard this vessel, serving my people, has been the greatest honor ever bestowed upon me.

"But now, to at last lay down my life for the Empire? There is no higher honor.

"I do not expect to survive this battle. But I go to my death knowing that my sacrifice, and the sacrifices of all loyal Rihannsu on this day, will mean continued life for the Empire.

"End log."

"Eureka!"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

======= Romulus =======

Erastus had found working on the probe design to be thoroughly engrossing. Having received permission from Lieutenant Commander Spa'an to continue her work on Romulus, where many of the resources she required were located, the Kaelian had plunged headfirst into her work and hadn't surfaced for air in days.

The work on Romulus was primarily theoretical. The practical experimentation and construction could take place more easily aboard the Miranda. Era, however, had been educated with the notion that theory came first. Until that was sound and fully detailed, expending materials was wasted and successes were no more than dumb luck. So it was with a sense of joy that she buried herself in every archival center she could get access to. After pulling a few strings and buying several people lunch, she managed to get in to most of the centers she desired - a feat inconceivable ten years ago.

Academia, on any planet, was its own particular world. Engaged in the debates and theories of scientists long dead, the outside world ceased to matter. Little things like eating and sleeping become inconveniences, interrupting her pursuit of knowledge. Bigger things, like the encroaching Hydrans, became blips on her consciousness radar - there and gone and of so little import as to be moot. The other researchers in the libraries acted the same way. The stacks were a refuge, sanctuary for those whose temperaments had never been geared to look at phasers as anything more than a fantastic application of laser theory and energy consumption.

Era had come to feel at home here. Regional and cultural differences dissipated in the face of quantum physics. What did they matter, really? Who cared if you had once set up your brother's fiancee as collateral for a loan (a la the Ferengi scientist who had stopped by one afternoon to arrange a colloquium)? Such concerns became petty when everyone gathered around the model polaric ion generator - ostensibly a warning to all scientists after the ban promulgated in 2268, but a challenge to all ambitious physicists.

After so many intensive hours spent studying, researching, drafting, editing, scrapping, and starting anew, Era felt more alive than she had in a long time. The sensation was only heightened when she sat back in her chair one afternoon and reread the principles she had just bulleted down the side of a PADD.

"EUREKA!"

Leaping from her seat, her uniform dishevelled from long hours in a musty basement, the Miranda's assistant chief of science raced through the bound periodicals rooms until she found the person she was looking for. "I did it!"

Dr. Tk'ceshkam looked up from her own research with a bemused smile. While the two scientists could not be termed friends, their close association had brought them firmly together as colleagues. "My congratulations. You should do something to celebrate."

"So Much Trouble For Such A Small Thing"

(OOC: Occurs 20 minutes before Captain M'Kantu's speech)

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

Crewman Allison Security - USS Galaxy

**** Ship's Armory USS Galaxy ****

His date with Faylin had gone... well now wasn't the time to be thinking about it. He wanted to get his rifle. And unfortunately for Steven, it was in the ship's Armory, and the young crewman staffing the armory didn't seem to be willing to relinquish it.

"So, can you explain again why it is that I can't get my rifle?" He asked the young woman.

"And HEL-lo Mr Grabby-hands....I said can you explain why you need it right this very moment." Pulling double shifts between the Armory and serving as James Corgan's personal secretary was beginning to wear on Allison's nerves a bit. She had even gone with plain eyeshadow this morning rather than her usual glitter-speckled ensemble. "Because if you need it as a drinking buddy again.......catch a clue Buck-o"

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You won't release it cause I took it into the bar loaded?" She was starting to get on his nerves.

"I wont let you have it for a variety of reasons." Alli chewed her gum deliberately, flipping through FASHION NOW magazine as she argued. "One of those being yes....you took it into a bar."

"I've told your, eh, Lieutenant T'lan twice now that the weapon *wasn't* loaded. The marines don't train with live ammo. So why won't you let me have it?"

"It isn't yours." Alli replied, "Duh.....It belongs to Starfleet."

"I've made enough modifications to it over the years that I doubt any of the material is actually Starfleet property anymore." She was definitely getting on his nerves now.

Alli sighed, "Well you better find that 'original Starfleet property' buck-o or your gonna be stuck with the bill."

"So what, you want me to fight off the Hydrans with only this?" He held up the walking stick he had been using for the last few days.

"Batter up."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "Should I go and see Commander Corgan? Or perhaps Faylin?" She was doing a little work in Security now due to the impending Hydran fleet's arrival. Perhaps she could help with this... this... girl.

That name caught Allison's attention, "Whoa......say that again dude......are you talking about the same oily haired skank-bucket that likes to runaround in skimpy outfits making goo-goo eyes at my boss?"

Steven's eyes widened at the words the young woman was saying. "Faylin? I highly doubt she'd make goo-goo eyes at your Boss. And she isn't a skank!"

Alli deliberately closed her magazine and fixed Steve with a serious stare. "Today may be your lucky day buddy-boy....I'll make you a deal........you get Madame skanks-a-lot to stop flirting with James Corgan, and I may .....expedite the return of your 50 caliber drinking buddy."

He sighed when she called Faylin a skank again. "I don't normally drink with my rifle. I drink with friends instead." He paused, thinking about her offer. "I'm already working on that." He smiled. She had no way of knowing that they had just been out on a date the evening before.

"How about this... You let me have my... eh.. the Starfleet issued rifle that I have heavily customized, back and I'll talk to her about not flirting with Corgan for you."

"How bout you just shoot her?"

Steven shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not in the habit of shooting officers to stop them flirting with other people."

"Too bad"

"I have it on good authority that she has been seeing someone... someone other than your James Corgan. So I don't think you have anything to worry about. Besides, she's currently down on the planet."

Alli sighed and gave up. "Fine whatever." she scribbled a note on a PADD and handed it to him. "Take this to the window down the hall and give it to the dorky looking guy with thick glasses.....he'll set you up."

With that she flipped back open her magazine and wondered what the heck the designers had been smoking.

Steven went to reply with his thanks, but saw she was too engrossed in the magazine she was reading. So he just turned and started down the corridor.

OOC: I decided that this post should go out before we get any further behind here. Hope this is ok. Takes place after "I have a Boyfriend and before the Hydrans arrive in the system.

"Arriving on the Surface"

Lt. Col. For'kel Arvelion, 101st SFMC Battalion CO

Lt Cole Slaton, Hazard XO

Lt. Man'darr Maivia, Ops Manager

======================= 3019, the future Fergal University, library Stagnoria =======================

The low burning fire gave off an eerie almost gothic glow that illuminated to two figures staring so intensely at the third, and only other figure in the library, they never noticed it. You were there?" the Stagnorian seated asked, the excitement at this once in a life time opportunity causing his voice to whisper. The speaker in front of him had purposefully visited this university, he had only received the communiqe‚ a little over an hour ago.

An hour to get himself organised. It had so nearly been impossible.

"I was." The speaker replied, the thick material of his hood moving slightly as he shifted beneath it.

"I am honoured and grateful, that you came here, to have been there.. a living witness to what happened. Incredible."

"Not incredible, merely a fact of nature. And you knew For'kel?"

The speaker nodded though it was hard to tell. He so wished to lay eyes on this man, this walking, breathing history book. All the wonders he'd seen. Witnessed. "I have read the records, how could such close friends start out as you did?"

The speaker chuckled slightly, somehow the fact he laughed was a shock to the historian. He had pictured him as a hero, a legend, and if anything legends do not chuckle! It had something to do with a woman, as all things general do. Arel Smith.

For'kel, at the time, was under the impression had he'd hurt her, on repeated occasions. "The fact I was training her hadn't come out until much later, and the injuries she sustained on that day were her own fault. The mission on the Romulus changed that, to some degree. Stagnorians aren't known for their brains.

"Watch your tongue--!

The historian silenced his assistant with a wave of the hand, the larger of the two men fuming at what the speaker had said, the historian wasn't interested in such wasteful exercise and quickly silenced his fellow companion.

"I am curious as to the relationship you had with Arel, while serving on the Miranda I noticed all records and personal files have been wiped from the database, it is currently a highly debated subject at the museum. Could you--?"

"No. There was no explanation with the single worded reply. Just a singular statement of intent. "Some elements of the past, will remain just that, the past."

"But is it true you once held her favoured mek'leth?"

"For a short time," speaker whispered emotion sapping at the words, accompanied by the briefest of nods. "But I returned it to its rightful place, at her side."

"More than two hundred years is a little more than a short time, sir"

The speaker shrugged.

"Did you say you served on the Miranda?" there was an air of puzzlement, surprise almost, at the question.

The historian nodded. "But not the current battleship, the museum on Earth. I was a tour guide for little over a year, the Fight er Bay, where I learned your name. I did my thesis while working there, and became a historian soon after"

"A museum..." the speaker whispered with contempt. Seeing the surprised gasp from the historian the speaker obviously decided he had to elaborate, or await the obvious question that was obviously fighting to the surface. "I can comprehend why the notion of the past fascinates so many minds, yet knowing such a mighty ship, whose corridors were once walked by heroes, is now merely a tourist attraction disgusts me."

"The reason you have never visited?"

The speaker nodded. "Among other things... Ghosts..." The speaker trailed off leaving the thought unfinished, much to the historian's frustration.

Swallowing, collecting his thoughts, the historian returned to the subject at had. Romulus, and the invasion. Where so many died, and so many heroes were made. "Like in all things there is a beginning, the Miranda had just arrived at Romulus, our sister ship Galaxy had been in orbit for a while by this time. Operations were underway for the coming invasion force...."

======================= Present time, Romulan space, Orbit of Romulus =======================

Cole sat on the pilot's chair of the small craft. A hopper in his eyes was nothing more than a glorified shuttle, and little more, or so he believed and had told the hopper pilot beside him as such, getting a wide range of responses and curses. The banter had fizzled out by the time For'kel and the first few of this little part arrived. The hopper pilot was grinning, getting the last of the digs in before company arrived, causing Cole to roll his eyes seeing the individual who had ruined it for him.

~This is going to be interesting~ Cole thought going through the pre-launch checks, with the hopper pilot strapping himself into the co-pilot's seat, grumbling underbreath. The Hazard officer wore the deep grey almost black battle suit, the nanobots currently inactive safely stored in their small and concealed pouches. The helmet was also stored behind his head, but at a mere thought he could activate in the servos would engage the retractable helmet folded up over his head within seconds.

The climate control system was keeping his body at a cool sixteen degrees, and with all systems function he was ready for mayhem. He'd packed his weapons away, only the phase-pistols at the small of his back, and various blades about his person, were reachable with any degree of ease.

"Major," Cole said with nod, though continuing to face forward finishing a system check.

"That's Colonel." For'kel replied flatly, without much in the way of fan-fare as the Marines began piling in. He wasn't particularly interested in exchanging pleasantries, but at the same time he wasn't about to let Cole, of all people, demote him.¡

Cole shrugged, getting the feeling this was going to be a LONG trip. Now he know why he was *volunteered* for this little outing. ~Bloody Mitchell, I'll kill that bastard.~ "Apologies Colonel, must have missed the memo. We're almost ready to depart." Opening the hopper's intercom he continued to speak to the marines outback. "Ladies and gentle grunts this is your pilot speaking, on behalf of airliner Hopper I'd like to say its a pleasure to be here on this fine day. Please make sure all tray-tables are in the up right position, weapons stored, and you'll notice the sickbags are located under your seats. In the unlikelyhood of an accident, please be my guest and kiss your sweet asses goodbye, because I'll be too busy screaming like a girl."

For'kel snickered... it would certainly fit his personality at that. "Thanks for the warning Lieutenant, now how about we get this show on the road?"

Grinning Cole nodded at his co-pilot. "Let's see what this bucket of bolts can do." The hopper lifted from its perch flying majestically out of the Miranda into the cold vacuum of space. Pulling her around Romulus filled the cockpit window. Glancing down a small display showed their current flight path and heading, a controlled descent to the capital. "Everyone strapped in?" he asked waiting a few seconds for anyone to say.

"What--?" the hopper pilot beside Cole didn't have a chance to finish his question. Cole hadn't pressed any buttons, in fact he hadn't moved an inch, but the angle of their fall suddenly increased and the hopper in turn dropped seemingly like a brick.

["Angle of descent, not good..."] the computer said in the background, of which Cole ignored, smiling.

"Music?" he asked glancing at the now terrified hopper pilot, who was literal ly gripping the armrests of his chair. A holographic display came up in front of the El-Aurian, a list of songs flooded by at high speed, too fast for a human's eye to follow. One was selected and the hologram winked out of existence. The music was *Feeder - Buck Rogers*.

The hopper hurtled down hitting the atmosphere, going though the threshold of sound the shockwave followed in their wake, the noise deafening. The capital emerged through the soft whispers of cloud the hopper punctured, the circular walls of each level of society separating them from the lower classes. Or so it seemed. Leveling the hopper out, bringing her speed right down allowing the shockwave behind advance and dissipate once their speed dropped below the threshold. "Not bad... needs some adjustments though..." he muttered.

For'kel was used to sheer drops... they were a favored tactic for amphibious landings back home, the idea being to get the troops out as quick ly as possible while giving the enemy as little time to shoot at you. Then again, those shuttles didn't so much land as skim the ground waiting for you to jump out before going as close to straight up as evasive manoeuvers would allow. His prayers, as a result, hadn't changed from the normal request for guidance in his duties and responsibilities.

When the hopper finally did land, it deposited the group off at the staging area... the flattened hill-top For'kel had selected as their landing zone and fire support base. The land-based Micro-torpedo launchers were already landed and crewed, and the two dozen mortars had been positioned to be able to hit any of the potential enemy landing zones. Bravo company was continuing to fortify the position, and the main causeway from the city's center to the evacuation point... just incase the enemy tried racing around the city itself to try and encircle them. The Stagnorian did his best not to rely on other troops as much as possible.

"All right, remember... this is a peacekeeping operation until further notice. Respect the local laws, lend assistance when directed to by designated Romulan officials, and above all 'keep' the peace!"

Stepping out, nodding for the hopper pilot to take over, Cole retrieved his rifle quickly attaching it via a small clip to his chest. It allowed him to use his hands if need by while still keeping the rifle on his person, the reason it wasn't exactly standard Starfleet issue. In fact the rifle itself was classified, for Hazard use only. The sky was almost clear above him, only a few whispers of cloud which could easily be ignored with a brisk north-easterly wind. "Never thought I'd be stepping on Romulus like this..." Cole muttered shielding his eyes from the sun's glare with his left hand.

From the flat hill top was perfect, instantly he could see why For'kel had chosen it. ~So he wasn't a complete baffoon~ he thought shrugging to himself stepping forward. There didn't seem a whole lot that needed his attention, the marines of Bravo Company were hard at it, not that he expected anything less. Marines made up a good percentage of Hazards, now there were two teams and another in reserve for that *just in case* senario.

"Can you tell me about the officials we're babysitting?" Cole asked stepping up to For'kel, having waited for him to issue orders to three grunts. "The main extraction route, and back ups. I'd like to take a look around for myself."

Man'darr had been quiet for the trip down when he heard the word babysitting."Babysitting?" he questioned wearing the Hazard suit with similar equipment to Cole's. "I thought this was a recon mission. Why are we babysitting politicians?"

"It is a recon mission," Cole stated glancing at Man'darr. "We've been detailed to assist the marines, wherever possible, escorting the Romulan officials, if-or-when the invasion occurs. And I was speaking in relative terms Mad," Cole said using the nickname he'd come up with for the large brute. It wasn't all that difficult to work out, but then when have any military body been hard to figure? Especially its sense of humour.

"To answer your question Lieutenant..." For'kel started off with Man'darr as his question was easiest to field. "In the event of an invasion, coherency and stability within the Romulan government is a top priority. We need to keep them in the war." He offered a PADD with the names and addresses of the 483 people they were going to need to evacuate if an invasion occurred.

"There they are. The more of them we can convince to leave now, the less Miranda will need to take aboard, and the less we'll have to worry about under fire. I've assigned the ARC's from the Galaxy to the same role, try and coordinate with them as much as possible. The main route of evacuation will be the main road running from the City center to the outskirts near our present position, here."

The PADD contained an unmarked map in addition to the names. "The Galaxy's detachment along with Bravo Company will be tasked with keeping it open, the defensive perimeter will span two avenues on either side of the main route, so there's 5 possible evacuation routes, but given people will be changing positions like crazy it's probably best to stick to the main road. Transporter inhibitors and planetary defenses such as shield generators and weapons systems will also be operational so let everyone know we'll be leaving on foot. Once the VIPs and their families are accounted for, we'll start pulling out. Dicey I know, but it's the only way of getting everyone off."

Cole nodded. Dicey was the word he was looking for, but it fit the bill like any other. "Seems straight forward enough, simple plan, lot less to go wrong. Anywhere specific you want us? Or are we going to roam and lend a hand wherever needed?" Cole handed the PADD to Man'darr, having uploaded it to his implant. It certainly had its uses. A inlaid display screen, showing the information For'kel had just mentioned, came up in his view showing a detail map, which he began to study. Parts seemed a criss-cross maze of streets and alleys. Far from ideal.

"For now, try and convince those people on the list to pack up and leave. There's plenty of space on Romulan vessels and the Federation task force. Other then that, keep your eyes and ears open for any problems, help out the Romulans where you can." For'kel gave Cole a nod. "Good luck."

Cole returned the nod glancing at Man'darr. "Give Bravo Company a hand," he ordered the larger man. "Just do me a favour, try not to piss off too many Romulan Officials, remember they're on our side..." He had to stop himself short, wanting to add *this time* but instead chose not to. Nerves were already getting the best of people, no need to stir the pop anymore. "Do what you can." Cole patted Man'darr on the shoulder before leaving him to his duties.

Man'darr simply nodded and moved off, heading for Bravo Company. He had hoped coming to the surface would keep him occupied moreso than being on the ship...being aboard still reminded him of Jill...as if he could still feel her presence.

"Day on the Town"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

======= Romulus =======

Erastus turned slowly in front of the mirror. She hadn't actually purchased new clothes in over two years. After some of the novelty of San Francisco had worn away once she'd been at the Academy a year, she had frequented the shops less and less. As she had learned more about replicator technology, she scientist and experimenter in her hand found it much more pleasurable to tinker with the programming to produce what she desire, rather than purchase it. When she received her orders aboard the USS Miranda, clothing became a distinctly minor concern. Yet Era had always liked shopping while growing up, even if it ended with a purchase. Now that she had Dr. Tk'ceshkam's prompting to treat herself after all the work she had done, a shopping spree sounded the perfect fit. The troubles facing Romulus and fleet above her remained forgotten for the time, the complacent bubble of academia tagging along after her outside the hallowed halls.

She adjusted the line of the pants, smoothing the fabric over her navel. Every so often on the Mir, Era accessed the more cultural programs in the holodeck. All of the major civilizations were represented with traditional clothing styles for the curious or homesick Starfleet personnel.

Era unbuttoned the shirt she had on and replaced it on the hanger. Inside the dressing room sat a flatscreen computer terminal. WELCOME TO TEODORO'S PLEASE PRESS ANYWHERE TO BEGIN glowed helpfully in Standard. Era's thumb hit the left corner. The welcome message instantly faded, replaced by a listing of the store's categories. Era dug deeper into the guided catalogue until she hit the women's blouse collection. Several pages worth of options presented themselves. After a minute, the Kaelian selected two styles that interested her sizes, then continued to admire the fit of the pants over her hips.

That was the problem with the holodeck programs: they weren't updated very often. As Erasmus had found out three minutes and two questions after entering Teodoro's, the styles generated by the holodeck program were several seasons out of date (read: back when retro was nowtro, those fashions were still embarrassing to grandmothers). No self-respecting Romulan would wear such things. And there were a lot of self-respecting Romulans on Romulus.

A light cough, the kind that has nothing to do with debris caught in the throat but rather with the knowledge that the person being coughed at is likely in some state of undress, interrupted Era's thoughts. Two metal hooks, the tops of hangers, appeared over the top of the stall. "Your shirts, miss."

"Thank you. Could you take this one back, please?"

The exchange made, Era tried on the new options. The first shirt ended up too short on the tall woman, revealing her midriff. The second, however, made Era gasp audibly. The fitted lines caused the silken turquoise fabric to hug her curves without bunching. The shoulders were slightly puffed, extending into sleeves that cuffed with an ornamental button just above the elbow. Most importantly for Era, the blouse hung long.

Fifteen minutes later, Era strolled the streets in her new outfit - the height of affordable Romulan fashion. Over her shoulder she had slung her bag. Inside sat her clothes and communicator, a gift for Jaal and another for Bery and For'kel. It had turned out to be a very productive morning. And the fresh air didn't hurt either.

Erastus spent the first part of the afternoon eating lunch at a busy, noisy restaurant, then joining a guided tour of some of the region's more noteworthy and historic buildings and monuments. Era found it to be highly enjoyable, though after sitting still for so long she felt the need for a walk.

As the daylight began to fade, the tall buildings in the heart of the city bringing a pre-mature dusky, streetlamps and lighted advertisements kicked in. The rush and glare from all the different light sources quickly made Era feel nauseated. Not tired, however, she resisted the temptation to return. Buying a simple tourist's map at an outdoor kiosk, along with a prewrapped sandwich and bottle of water, Era set out for Romulan suburbia. Once out of the city proper, the walk became a stroll, Era letting her feet meander the quiet roads lined with meticulous gardens and pleasant homes. After about an hour, Era's stomach had finally calmed down enough to let her think about dinner. Consulting the map for a suitable picnic spot, she noticed that not two miles away lay an old cemetery.

The two miles turned out to be closer to four, the map not being entirely to scale. By the time she arrived night was fast approaching, but enough residual glow from the city and the emerging stars made it easy for Era to find a bench. Her bag at her feet, she pulled out dinner and let her thoughts drift while eating.

She had only just begun to contemplate the statuary nearest her when she heard a flurry of noise. It took her a moment to interpret the sounds, bundled together as they were and emanating from the other side of the cemetery. Swallowing the bite of food in her mouth so the commotion of her jaws couldn't deafen her, Era picked out Running Feat, a Clanking of Metal, Loud Yells made by Young Voices, Muffled Cries and Soft Plaps. Those were the universal sounds of someone getting beaten up. Era jumped to her feet, all else forgotten, and took off at a run in the direction of the attack. She hurdled gravestones, dodged majestic statues, evaded obelisks, and tripped on a tree root.

Another cry rang out, this one more shrill. Back on her feet, her new pants soiled at the knee, Era ran on. Rounding a mausoleum, the origin of the immediate ruckus became clear. Three Romulan boys, no older than twelve or thirteen at a pinch, were laying into a smaller body that lay crumpled on the ground, trying to dodge the kicks by becoming one with a headstone. When Era hove into view, everyone paused for a moment to look at each other. The leader of the boys did some very quick computations. Three on one were good odds. Three on two, when one of those two was 6'1" tall, even if female, were dramatically less favourable.

In a flash of genius, he yelled, "Run!" The two other boys, less mathematically gifted, hesitated a moment more until Era took a definite step forward, her fists clenched. Not that she would actually hit a child, but it got them to turn tail and hop the fence that bordered this end of the cemetery green. Erastus knelt beside the whimpering figure left on the ground. Beneath the muddied clothes and battered face, it turned out to be a pudgy boy of perhaps ten. "It's okay. Let me get you cleaned up."

The boy looked at her with wide eyes, but he didn't show any sign of understanding. He was breathing hard, a rasping accompanying each inhalation. Era used the edge of his shirt to wipe some of the blood from his face. It kept coming back. Era wasn't much of a doctor, but even she could tell that the beating he'd taken was severe. Vaguely recalling from the map that there was a hospital not far distant, and knowing instinctively that there wasn't time to fetch her bag, Era lifted the boy into her arms. She grunted with the effort. Though so young, he had gained rather than lost baby fat while growing.

As she struggled down the cemetery path to the gate, Era was glad she hadn't gone back for her bag. She doubted she could have managed both awkward burdens at once.

(OOC: Okay I am breaking one of my big rules with this post.....ie...No picnics on the holodeck during a battle. Sorry bout the timing...... Well blame me, and not Dallas....I was a little slow getting my part out. I know this is a long post, but we hope you guys like it.....we had a blast writing it. Im trying to give Allison some more depth and no just a mere comedy character.......Let us know what yall think)

"Obsession"

Commander James Corgan

Crewman Recruit Allison Jimsdottir

USS GALAXY Holodeck

"You've got a heart of glass or a heart of stone? Just you wait 'till I take you home. We've no future, we've got no past. Here today, built to last. In every city, in every nation. From Lake Geneva to the Finland station..."

James had a rough time juggling his heart of glass with his heart of stone. To occupy the time walking through Iceland, James Corgan just sang whatever was in his head. This time it was the Pet Shop Boys. Next it could have been some Klingon Death Metal.

Pet Shop Boys stuck with him for some reason, and he didn't know why. But what he did know was that Allison was late, and he was still wrestling with the question of whether or not what he was doing was right.

So he sang a little. It fit to occupy his time enough, and the beautiful scenery was an inspiring sight... even on a holodeck.

Jame's first impression of Iceland was.....not much 'ice' here. The lake itself was a wonder of clear crystal blue with a smooth glass surface.

Trees were sparse in this region, but the lush pastures and meadows were such a deep emerald that it almost hurt ones eyes at their brilliance.

What truly gave the area its strange alien beauty was the actual topography of the land surrounding the lake.

Numerous small grass covered mounds surrounded the shoreline of the crystal waters , and at the center of each lay huge bowl-like depressions giving the impression of hundreds of small grass covered volcanoes.......which is in fact exactly what they were.

The pastural mounds were evidence remnants of ancient volcanic activity that had forged the area, and indeed much of Iceland itself millenia ago.

Iceland, though lacking in ice, was a beautiful country. James had seen tourist traps who's unique reputation for their various qualities of breathtaking vistas spanned five neighboring sectors that couldn't match the beauty of the small, volcanic island in the middle of sparkling blue and green Earth.

And still he was bothered by his meeting with Allison. Something about it felt wrong. Her eagerness to please felt wrong. The pushy nature of her loyalty felt wrong. Allison felt wrong.

He did like the little scamp, however, and so he put up with her behavior. She felt more and more like his apprentice and student, the squire to his knight. That was a different affection than that of love, and it his suspicions of her having a crush on James was right then there was an inherent incompatibility. There had to be a separation.

Could she differentiate between the two?

James' conscience countered, ~"Can you?"~

~"F**k off."~ He snapped back, his hands fumbling as he hid them behind his back, concealing behind him a bottle.

Near the rim of one of the craters, young Allison stood, ankle deep in the dew covered grass, staring contemplatively out across the mist shrowded lake.

Her attire was quite different from what James had become used to back on board the Galaxy.......gone were the usual jingly bracelets and earrings, and in place of her usual teeny-bopper fashions was a simple cotton sundress that made her seem at once much younger and prettier than even her usual youthful self.

"This is home...." she sighed wistfully, her gaze tracing the strange alien outlines of the green craters. "Some of the smells and sounds are different of course, but this is were I spend....spent much of my time."

She glanced up at James , eyes hopeful, as if she was seeking his approval......for what? Approval that she had pretty scenery to look at growing up........or just for the fact that she did grow up?

He noticed something else.

"You're not wearing any makeup today." James Corgan noted aloud, and joked, "And you don't look like a YM Magazine puked on you. What happened?"

"What happened!?" Allison raised an involuntary hand to her face as if she had been told she had dirt on it. "Whats the matter with it? Is it wrong?"

"Oh no! No!" James waved off hurriedly to allay her fears, "No. I don't mind. I... don't mind at all. You look good."

What he really thought was 'different'. This Allison, though without makeup, looked more mature and beautiful. There was no face or image she tried to uphold. It was the most honest face he had seen of her since she came aboard.

"You look... very good." James Corgan said with confidence.

Alli blushed a bit and turned her head. The usual glitter speckled cosmetics that dotted her cheeks and lips was gone, leaving in its place a very young looking girl.....a kid really..... Pale skin stretched over sharp nordic features, witha light dusting of barely visible freckles dancing across her nose.

When she had said nothing, James assumed he had taken a wrong turn. "I mean... you look good. I wish I had changed into something other than a uniform myself... you know... just to do it justice. So..." He switched subject before he had the chance to bumble it further, "This is home? Lake Myvatn? It's beautiful."

Allison nodded halfway lost in memories, although truth be told she was only here a few months ago........seemed like 20 years though. "We're on the North East part of the Island, and most of the cities are in the South, but I did have alot of friends. Mom actually owns alot of the land around here, but the Lake itself is public.

She sighed breathing in a deep breath, her memory suplying the smells and sounds that the holodeck could not replicate.

"Anyways," she continued, "our house is back along that far shoreline set between a couple of the craters........didnt really have a chance to program it into the computer....this is just kinda a public domain scenery program." she explained sounding a bit disappointed that reality was not reflected 100%.

If anything Allison's mood could be described as quite the opposite of her usual bubbly self-confident personality. She seemed more reflective, more deferent allowing James to make most, if not all the decisions. A little sadder as well.

Maybe she was just homesick......triggered by the holoprogram......maybe it was something else.

He had detected the hint of longing for her home as she said it. It was a universal constant for all planetborne sentients, the attachment to their own particular ball of rock they called home and the part of their soul that was more than aware of how far away they were from it. On first trips it was even worse, amplified by the scary first experiences of being the furthest from home.

On a new assignment, it was the lonliest feeling in the universe, even more than having no rockball orbiting a hydrogen furnace to call home.

"I'd show you my home... but all we'd see is a starfield." James jested, more to buoy the Crewman Recruit's spirits. "My home is on a ship and in the stars. Terranborne aren't quite use to it like us spacers. But when they see the stars and travel alien worlds, it is worth it for those moments."

James pointed to a general area, "You said your home was over there?"

Alli nodded and gave him a goofy smile. "Yah--I'll program it in for next time, although that may seem a little creepy. We've got a main house, and a little guest cottage.....although I mainly used it as a playroom. Got a dog....couple of cats....stuff like that.

He replied, "When you come back to visit and tell your family about where you've been, it will be so worth it, and worth it for alot longer."

The smile faded and Allison fixed him with a crystal blue gaze, "When I get back home I hope to find that all of this will have been worth it. I'm hoping my life will be changed forever."

For a long time they stood on the crater rim in silence, listening to the wind whispering through the soft grass at their feet.

At length Alli gave a small smile and gestured towards a small picnic blanket she had spread on the crater rim. A simple Spaghetti dinner and assorted accoutrements were set out with loving care. Little bins fresh buttered garlic bread, hot steaming pasta noodles, and a delicious looking red sauce that smelled of assorted tangy herbs and spices.

"There's a separate little bowl of some hamburger meat off to the side if you want to mix it into the sauce." Alli explained. " I'm something of a veggie-only person myself, but .......I dunno.......I thought you might like some."

Again there was a bit of sadness in her voice, as if she was kicking herself for not knowing what James liked to eat.

~"Hey... pasta! I love pasta!"~ James dug in with gusto. He wasn't shy about wanting to add meat to it either. As his one hand hovered over the meat, he halted it, and the other revealed his surprise.

A bottle of Sauvignon red wine with a middle aged label came to be.

He reasoned, "We're both adults and it is synthahol... why the hell not?" Then he coughed, "You are an adult, right?"

Alli shot James a strange look and paused before she answered. "I'm in Starfleet.....duh."

Didnt technically answer the question, but James let it slide.

"Good." James grinned, pouring two glasses full of the ruby red liquor. "And thanks for adding the meat even though you're a vegetarian. Just to let you know all of our replicated food... it is replicated, yes?"

"Replicated?", Allison sounded shocked. "Oh no.....I made all of this myself......Mom wasnt much of a cook, but my grandma was a whiz in the kitchen and she taught me." she paused, "Okay some of the raw ingredients, the meat for example.... I got from replication, but the veggies and stuff came right out of the ships garden..."

"Hydroponics."

"Yah...hydrowhatever....tomatoes and onions....stuff for the sauce....all picked this morning. Do you like it?

"Ahhh... there we go." James forked a mess of spagetti onto Allison's plate, "Anyways, all the replicated food is made from a protien rich base mass that's mostly genetically altered Quadratriticele and... recycled mass, so you can replicate all the pot roast and meat loaf you want. It's completely vegetarian."

"Veggie meat?" Allison looked at the food curiously. She was somewhat tempted to try some, but then decided it was safer not to. The last thing she wanted was to develope a taste for the stuff, and then be tempted to try the 'real thing'.

"Yeah...." James nodded his head with a joyfulness and a quirky smile, "Recycled. You know... bits of previous meals, disposed organic matter, was... ummm... you know... recycled biomatter. All harmful components zapped and the next thing you know we have Starfleet emergency rations."

The meal went well. Clouds lazily crawled their way across the Icelandic skies, and little ripples danced at the waters edge.

The conversation varied, mostly concerning their mutual interst in music, wher Allison displayed a rather unusual knowledge into even James most obscure works. When asked about it she merely blushed and replied that she'd been a fan of his since a little baby.

However when the topic came to their relationship....or lack thereof, Allison became more reticent and circmspect.

At length she looked directly into James blue eyes with her own azure gaze. "Sir....I'd really like to get to know you better.......I dunno like your likes....dislikes.......history....where you came from." she paused before adding, "Your plans for the future."

James shrugged, his head inching back, away from Allison, "Why would you like to know? My life was pretty wretched until I got on the Galaxy and I don't know what the future will bring, so I just try to live in the present and make the most of it. But I suppose if you want to know... I could tell you a little. Just don't ask me about the past. It's scary. Don't go there."

"The past is the whole reason Im here in the first place." Allison replied, her mouth in set in a determined line.

James curled a ball of spagetti on his fork, thrust fork into mouth, and thoughtfully chewed. ~"Why does she really want to know? If she's trying to prove she doesn't have a crush on me, she's making for one hell of a f**king weak case."~

Yet she seemed so beniegn. James was at ease with his new assistant. The only time he had to put on airs of authority and all knowingness was on duty, and even then it went past her head. James could be himself with her, no airs, just all him, shy around women, wary around strangers James. And she still adored his presence! Though it was odd to feel that way, James felt he had a friend. A loyal, non judgemental friend.

~"Isn't that called a pet?"~ His conscience rudely cut in.

~"F**k off"~

~"Whatever, p*ssytease. A teenage girl... you're such a sleeze."~

"Well.. for now, i'm working on being a commander." James Corgan confessed, "I almost lost my chance when I was caught with Atole, and now it came back again. Come to think of it... I think maybe Mika had something to do with it, but... whatever. Captain M'Kantu said to me once not to question whatever blessings come my way when I got my third full pip, so I suppose I'll work on being a commander and see where it takes me. Maybe i'll get my own ship, and i'll be Captain some day and live the Captain's dream. Explore brave new worlds. Seek out new life forms and new civilizations. Go where no man has gone before... and a few we have for the hell of it. Plant the flag, wrestle with angry xenophobic creatures, beat off hordes of marriage eligible alien princesses with a neural mace... you know, every young male ensign's dream." He sighed with introspection, "Good for a younger man. Me... I'd just want to cruise the stars, keep my darling Mika happy, and do some good service for the Federation. All that would make me happy."

Alli was wondering what a 'Mika' was.....probably a pet fish or something.

"What about your old girlfriends?" She blurted out in a rush. It was as if the topic had been on her mind the whole meal, and she finally worked up the courage to ask it.

"Girlfriends? You didn't know?" James said, blinking twice in surprise.

"I.....like I mean....I dunno......any old flames of yours.....Just curious what they were like, or what you thought of them."

James laughed off her question, "My, you are curious! I thought you knew. God knows, everyone else does. And everyone thinks i'm f**king Casanova because of it. I mean... I was a miserable c*nt after the the Battle of Sector 001 and through most of the Academy and on my first stint on the Galaxy and I pretty much ignored the fairer sex, and when I did get my head out of my ass I found that I couldn't attract anyone but the wrong women or I had alot of dry spells. But yeah, I've had girlfriends. Few were ok. Most were a mess."

"More messes in the past makes it better to find someone in the future right?"

"Umm... are you sure about this?" James questioned cautiously.

"Trust me......this concerns me directly"

"Ok... I warned you." James took a liberal sip of his wine to fortify himself, "My first girlfriend was in the Academy. She cheated on me the whole time, and I found out when her Klingon boyfriend kicked my ass. She's in some Starfleet Intelligence ops thing that even I can't get clearance to find out about. Good riddance. She was a mess. Her now ex-boyfriend K'ringe though... great guy once you get to know him."

Alli merely nodded. Her thought private.

"Oh... next was a... mistake." James' head sagged, "She was a Vulcan on her seven year itch, and I was the scratching post. She's on the USS Tokyo as their chief science officer. We still keep in contact, but her marriage isn't going well and we haven't been the same with each other since. Showed me that sex in a relationship changes everything."

At the mention of sex, Allison averted her eyes and fidgited uncomfortably, but didnt interrupt. These were not the gory details she'd really been after.

"Then there was Lexa." He whistfully remembered, "I really loved her. She was amazing. Black wavy hair. As tall as me, but so damn beautiful. We were so good together, but we ran into the Hirogen and... she was hospitalized. After more than a year comatose we tried to keep the relationship going but... we both changed during that time. We finally went our ways. I still keep in touch with her and her husband back in Starfleet Medical. She's happy with that man, and that makes me glad."

Allison seemed a bit more interested in Lexa, and asked a few polite questions regarding her, but nothing pressing.

"I almost got serious with a Betazed. She had children... total darlings all of them. I even put into their trust fund. But you know, it didn't work. She just wanted me to be a substitute dad. She was too strong with me. I walked away, but she was fine after a year. She too is married again. This time... for good."

"Good" was Allison's only comment.

"Oh... but the worse was Atole Tekri. Totally nuts. We were all over each other. Didn't give a damn that she was a Tal'Shiar agent and that she was seducing me, only it turns out she thought the same damn thing! Worked on us both it seemed. She still can't stop thinking about me. It got to the point where I had to tell her to make a choice between me and her precious Tal'Shiar. She picked Tal'Shiar. It ended with that." James groaned with an intense, depressed resignation, "And she had my baby and now she wants me to be with her again. F**k..."

"Baby?" Allison choked on a bite of spaghetti, "You...you...have another kid?"

"What's this another crap?" James asked between a mouthful of spagetti.

"I mean a kid...like. a baby person?"

"Oh. Ok! I see." James chuckled, "I see... well... yeah. I have a kid."

"A REAL kid!?" Alli sputtered in a rush of questions "Where the heck did that come from? Why......did you love her? Whats the kids name......do you see her?"

"Sure I love the kid." James said, as naturally as breathing, "How could you not love a baby? It was with Atole. She... well... she absconded with my DNA and made a kid with it. We call her Nuhir. She's a darling."

Allison snapped her jaws shut with a click of the teeth, grimacing for a minute. "I need a drink......" She reached for her wine glass that up until now had remained perfectly untouched, and raised it to her lips before catching James curious look.

"I....I'm sorry sir." she lowered the glass untouched, "Sorry just like HEl-lo....bit of a shock and all......I wasnt expecting........wow........um sorry."

"It's ok, it's ok. Nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one that has to be sorry."

"Lets move along......."Alli motioned with her hand......that drink was looking awfully good right about now, but............."

"Well... there was one that got away." James admitted with great stress, "She was very cute, a pint sized redhead that could calculate Savok's quantum metaphysical subspace tear energy to dissipation ratio like it was a Pythagorean Theorem. I mean, she wasn't physically... you know... but she was innocent and charming and I just fell for that. It made me want to be the knight in shining armour, do you know what I mean? She used to command tactical. I was very protective of her."

"Protective." Allison leaned in closer to hear every word. "She...uh....sounds interesting, tell me more. What was her name......what, or why did she need protecting?"

"Why? I don't know. I guess I thought she did. I looked out for her on missions, away team stuff like that. But i'll tell you more as the story progresses. The point is... that part about me being protective of her... she didn't appreciate it." James sorrowfully downcasted, "She was going through some very rough times and I tried to offer my hand to help her. But she wouldn't take it. She just finally made it clear that she wanted me to leave her alone... so I did."

"She asked you to leave her alone?" Allison mulled that one over. "Are you sure she asked you? I mean.......she didnt want you to stay? You left because of her?"

"Eh?" James questioned, the blanks she was trying to fill a little too confusing, "You're right. She didn't exactly ask me. She just flat out told me to leave her alone."

His eyes, gray as they were, sparkled as his recollection became more personal, "It tore me up, seeing her go the way she did. She became so damn cold and uncaring. She went into battle just swatting her enemies and she didn't feel a damn thing... just like I did once. It scared me more than anything. It really scared me to know she was turning so cold and impersonal and I couldn't do a thing for her for fear she would just turn against me."

He had the frustration of a man held back for so long working with him, colouring his words with the emotions of regret until it sank him down in chains. "She fell with a bad crowd. Some tactical Admiral that wanted to make her into some ultimate tactical genius. Captain Brhode training her into a bloodthirsty psychopath. That creepy Commander Lysander that just wanted to use HER... they all just wanted to use her and she LET them do it, while here I was... a security officer without any fancy admirals or vast riches or connections.... I had to stand by and watch them all warp and twist her. It got to the point where I just broke down and wanted to tell her that I loved her, but I didn't want her to turn into what they were making her."

Allison was hanging on every word as if she was hearing the most interesting story ever. Love triangles.....Starfleet intrigue.......beautiful women.........what else did you need for a good tale.

"One night... I made a choice." James climaxed the story, his dinner forgotten, "I went to confess to her. I just wanted to bring that part I loved about her back so badly that I went and tried. But when I got to her quarters... she was gone. Nothing left. Nothing at all. She packed up and left."

Allison blinked, "She left? She was the one who left? Why? What happened next?"

"What happened?" James said aghast, "How the f**k should I know? She didn't tell me anything! She was so mindf**ked by Lysander and Brhode and Admiral Hoth that she just totally forgot about me. Didn't say she was leaving. Didn't even say goodbye at the last minute. She just... left. How cold is that? She didn't even care enough about me to say goodbye. But oh... I did try to find her, I really tried, and kept getting stonewalled. It got to the point where another Admiral up and told me to stop looking for her or face court martial because her assignment was so top secret. Well... excuse me if I wanted to find out what happened to my best f**king friend in the whole wide f**king universe, even though she treated me like garbage in the end. But hey... I was told to f**k off and so I did. I let her have her Admirals, her @$$hole Captains and her creepy buttf**k rich b*tch boy toy and all the mind f**king that came with it. I let her become the greatest tac officer in Starfleet even though it killed all that I loved about her. She didn't want my help, so all I can do is oblige the Admiral and the girl herself and let them all tear her to pieces. F**k'em! That same Admiral is rightfully dead, Lysander's damn near broke trying to win her over, Brhode's off in another sector and away from ME, and from what I know she is still a cold hearted woman. Hell with it... hell with them all."

At the end of his diatribe, he found that his one hand was shaking in his wine glass, the other hand knotted in a clenched hand green with the sprouted grass torn out, and white from the tightness of his grip. He was angry, griefed, and he was feeling this way in front of an eighteen year old rating without the understanding or experiences to help.

"Sorry." James apologized, his hand loosening, "That's alot to dump on you. It's just... I wanted so badly for other things to be different. I guess that's why I am really trying to be a Captain and an Admiral. I want to take it easy, but I really can't. I want so badly to help the people around me and when I couldn't help her... I felt rotten. I could have if I was an Admiral, or if I was rich, or if I had galaxy spanning influence. But no... I'm a disgraced former killer. My place is not among the elite. I was left behind by her and her 'friends' a long time ago. I pushed Rebecca away by trying too hard to help her. Hell, in a way, it was just to make up for my own flaws and make myself feel better, so what I did was wrong. So I suppose I just have to let her go and tried to make due with what I could, f**king up the entire time while I was at it."

The cussing was bothering Allison a bit, but she had heard about Corgan's blue streaks and didnt comment. "Do....do you still love her?" was all she could think about to say.

"To tell you the truth... I don't know." James Corgan sighed, "I loved what she was before. She wasn't that person near the time she left, try as I might. So I suppose the person I did love... is gone."

Allison mulled that one over. The story wasnt quite how she expected, but .....then again two sides to every tale right?

"Well..." James grinned bravely to mask some of his sorrow, "At least life is normal. I'm not as much of a mess as usual, I got a good friend in Victor and T'lan and I have a girlfriend that not only loves me, but compared to the others is pretty damn normal. I can consider myself blessed."

A bit of spaghetti went down the wrong pipe and Allison coughed and sputter miserably.

"A....<cough cough>......what!!??!" she hacked though her coughing, "You're dating somebody NOW!?"

"Sure." James smiled, "You mean you didn't know? It's all over the ship. Sherrif and schoolmarm? Pinkskin and blueskin..."

"No!"

"Mika sh'Sonora, the secondary senior class teacher?"

"NO!!!!!"

"The Andorian in the bright orange kimono that stops by my office daily?"

"YES!!!!.... Waittt... NO?!?!?"

"James Corgan, Commander and Chief of Security of the USS Galaxy is dating Mika the schoolteacher? You haven't heard about this?"

"Mika's your GIRLFRIEND!!??! I thought she was your frazzing goldfish or something." Allison shrieked, leaping to her feet, upturning several platesd and bowls. "What the hell are you thinking!!? You can't be dating Somebody NOW!"

~"Uh oh."~ James hadn't any time to register it fully, but he had an inkling that somehow he had screwed up again. Mika had been wrong, a concept alien to them both, but Allison was reacting just like a lover.

A very surly, spurned lover.

So much for being friends.

"Why the hell not?!" James snapped back defensively, a reactionary move that didn't hold anger but had plenty of astonishment and surprise behind it, "And where the hell did that come from? And what the hell are you talking about?!"

"Dont give me that crap! You've got kids you just told me. Why the hell arent you back there taking care of them? You think people LIKE growing up without fathers? You think its FUN not knowing who your dad is....or worse yet knowing he's off with some blue-skinned hussy huh? You've got a little girl! What about Her!?" Allison poked James hard in the chest with her finger

"I already told you the circumstances behind that." James backed away from the picnic spread. Standing up at full height, he was a head taller than Allison and well more muscled, but right now her ferocious onslaught had James on the losing end. He backed away, palms upraised in a calming gesture, "Look, lets just calm down..."

"DONT YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!" Allison yelled. "You havent EARNED that right goddamnit!!" She stamped her foot into the soft grass ineffectually.

James snarled, his words tumbling out like a hurtful cascade, "I have the right to know why you're so pissed off at me! And for that matter, why do you keep coming after me? Why do you keep sending dirty looks to T'lan? Why are you such a b*tch towards the other security females? Why do you keep trying to corner me like you do?! What... the f**k... do you want from me? Isn't it enough that i'm trying to be nice to you?"

"Then what the Fraz am I doing here?" she retorted. " If you're all lovey dovey with this new girl then EXPLAIN ME!"

And in that second, James collected cool were all but forgotten.

The weeks of her 'admirations', thought adorable and cute, the affectations of an admiring fan, the daydreams of an impressionable youth, that of the squire to his knight, were all images she dropped when her ugly side appeared. There James made the decision to drop pretenses. He had had enough of her colour co-ordinated file folders, her glitter, her pink unicorns on the PADDS as dividers, the bubble smacking, the blushed cheeks, the lolita innuendo, all of it.

He knew what the ship thought of him with women, and he was sick of the constant offers, and Allison was the very last one he would put up with, now and forever.

He had had enough longer than he admitted.

The crush ended here and tonight.

"EXPLAIN WHAT TO YOU?!" James Corgan exploded in hellfire fury, freezing Allison cold and dead.

"If you're playing dirty old man with some alien then what the fraz am I doing here!??"

James eyes had the intensity of phaser beams, and his teeth clenched together as if they were chewing stem bolts. In front once strong but crumbling recruit, James' words tumbled down, small rocks soon to be boulders.

"Explain how I treat the women I know well, how I try my damnest to make them all happy, how I try to give and give to them and all they can do is use me, abuse me, refuse me and reuse me again?!?! Or do you want me to explain how in simple Teen Beat language how i'm so f**king sick of having some pushy, whiny, b*tchy barely legal tramp try to undermine my life when all I want to do is be nice to the person and maybe play a song or two?!?! Well excuse me if I don't fit in your f**king mold, little girl!! Too bad I didn't fit your ideal of what I'm supposed to be, but I won't let you undermine my relationship with my GODDAMN girlfriend just so that I can conform to your twisted little fantasy about me and you and a dog name Boo going off into the sunset as happy little @$$f**k twins in a teenage wasteland f**king fairy tale! I'm THROUGH humouring you! I'm NOT in the mood for any more of your CRAP!!! NOW BACK OFF!!!!"

Alli recoiled a bit at his anger, openeing her mouth to protest......

"NO! I don't want to hear anymore." James shut her up suddenly, "You went too far this time! What you're trying to do is inappropriate! I tried to be nice, I tried to humour you, but it's time you stopped, and if you don't... then there's the door. Use it. I know I will."

However when James finally turned to leave in frustration (anger whatever) she suddenly changed her tone and leapt forward catching him by the arm, "No dont go." she pleaded, "Please dont walk out on me......"

The tears were running freely down her face, now red and splotchy with anguish, "Oh please oh please dont leave me." She pulled at him desperately, falling to her knees and throwing her arms around his knees......"Please......."

The anger in his heart melted away, leaving with it a sediment of shame. In his desperation to keep her from going too far, he went even further. The girl's tears shot through him, and when he realized what he done the shame and the anger conflicted.

He didn't want to make the girl cry. Its sobs pleaded for help.

But was it a trap to manipulate him?

He talked neutrally, hinting at the warning of what she would get if her answer was not satisfactory. "Then you better tell me what it is that you want from me."

Looking deep into his eyes through her own tear-streaked vision, aLlison could not decide if she was angry, or sad, or both........she wondered if the time was right.

"W....what I want from you is.........."

***RED ALERT ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS......HYDRAN FLEET INCOMING........ RED ALERT*****

The klaxons blarred and in one blure of color and light, Iceland was stripped away to reveal the bare hologrid as power was automatically shunted away from non-critical systems.

The girl and the man looked at each other for the briefest of moments in silence before diving through the doors and into the heat of battle.

"Good To Be The Tiger"

(Takes Place 2 Hours Before 'The Hour Of The Sword')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Flight Officer Angelienia

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7 Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

Almost everything was packed up and stowed away.

Not, of course, that there was that much to pack up or stow away to begin with, but there were a few things: the coffee cup Gunny Goldstein had given him, a picture of his Aunts, the costumes that Angelienia had made him for their nightly dancing....

Victor wondered for a moment as he ran a finger along one of the finely-stitched seams if she thought that he wouldn't know she'd made them by hand. Replicators made good copies, but the *feel* of something made by hand was different, subtly so. It lacked the perfection of a replicated copy, and in those tiny individualized imperfections became unique, alive, in a way that mere copies could never be.

It was important, he decided, that she knew that he knew. She'd taken the time to create something unique in the universe for him - over half-a-dozen times now - and he should tell her that he knew that. He thought that she might smile when he told her. That would be good; he felt... warmer... inside when she smiled and he was the reason. Not as warm as he did when she touched him or leaned against him, but warmer.

He sealed the last of the cases and looked around the room. The only thing left was the one case that was transiting down to the planet with him, the bare furniture, and himself, the refurbished Hazard Team uniform he wore still smelling of newness.

He'd almost refused the order to wear the thing after it had nearly killed him on Mirusa VI, but after a talk with Crewman Allison at the Armory and a demonstration where she'd dumped water inside a suit while a heavyset man with thick glasses wore it - a demonstration that she'd seemed to enjoy more than he thought was warranted - he'd agreed to wear the thing. If it malfunctioned on him this time, though... nie weider. Never again.

There were a few items left to store in the suit's pattern buffer after he'd checked them - Crewman Allison had been surprisingly eager to assist him when he'd asked for the additional transporter tags so that he could reconfigure the weapons load the suit carried. Victor thought it had been due to the whole water thing, although why she'd felt the need to use hot, soapy water was beyond him. Some personal quirk of the girl's no doubt.

The door buzzed, identified the person outside as Angelienia, and opened for her automatically. She was here so many times during a week it'd seemed reasonable to program it that way, although the look on her face the first time it had happened was odd, as if she'd never expected something like that.

She was speaking before she'd crossed the threshold. "Victor, I just heard - you can't be..."

"I'm going."

"Why? You could have asked Commander Corgan to send someone else? Why you?"

Victor checked the issue Phaser 3 pistol and holstered it on his side. "Because no one else can do this as well as I can, Angelienia." He looked up at her. "There are sheep on the ground that belong to me, you know that. If I don't watch out for them, who will?"

The Ktarian's green eyes flashed and abruptly softened as she began to tear up. "Someone else! Someone that's not... not you!"

That made little sense to Victor, but he doubted that it was supposed to. "No one else is me, Angelienia. I'm the only me there is, anywhere. Besides, no one aboard ship can force unwilling individuals to board an evacuation shuttle faster than I can."

"That's not what I meant!" she snapped as she launched herself into his arms.

Forced to put down the Tetryon Pulse Launcher he'd taken from a outbound Marine weapons reload pallet and catch her, Victor frowned as the weapon wobbled and then righted itself. If he lived, he doubted anyone would care what happened to the weapon, and if he didn't, well, he wouldn't be doing much caring then, himself.

"You're worried that I'm going to die," he said quietly.

Angelienia nodded against his chest.

"I won't."

She looked up at the certainty in his voice. "You won't?"

"No."

"But how do you...?"

"The same reason that I know that you won't," Victor said, his eyes on hers. Odd, he'd not noticed how deep they seemed to be before.

"What?" he breathed. "I...?"

"Listen to me Angelienia," he said slowly and carefully. "You don't have permission to die. Do you understand?"

She blinked and nodded. "I... don't have permission to die."

"That's right," he agreed. "I don't have permission, either. I won't give it to myself - do you understand that too?"

"I... I do," she nodded, eyes never leaving his.

"Good," he nodded. "That's settled, then?" He hoped it was.

"It's settled," she sighed and hugged him fiercely, making him feel warm inside again.

"Good." He stood there for a moment, arms around her, and savored the warmth inside him. After a moment, he said, "Thank you."

"For what?" Her eyes were curious, but no less deep as she looked up at him.

"The costumes." Victor looked at her expression and clarified, "For making them for me by hand. That makes them unique, special, something that exists only for me. Thank you."

Her smile was instantaneous, making her face light up. "You noticed?"

"The first time I touched one," he assured her. "I...."

=/\="Lieutenant Krieghoff, your scheduled beam-down time has been moved up by ninety minutes. Are you ready and able to transit at this time? If so, I'll site-to-site you to the Transporter Room for beam down,"=/\= the pleasant voice of Chief Cannon sounded.

=/\="One minute, Chief,"=/\= Victor replied.

"I have to go, Angelienia," he said, wondering what the odd feeling inside him was, and suddenly realizing that it was emptiness, an absence of something - of Angelienia's arms around him, her smile, and the sound of her voice.

She nodded once, hugged him again, and stepped back. "Be careful, Victor," she whispered.

"I'm always careful," he replied as he attached the tag to the Pulse Launcher and sent it into the suit's buffer. "Sometimes the Universe doesn't care about that, though." He snapped two more tags on weapons and sent them into the now-full buffer, and picked up a metal case with two shoulder straps and a Phaser rifle. There seemed to be something else he ought to say, something else he ought to do, but just what seemed beyond him, so he settled for saying, "Remember, you don't have permission to die, Angelienia... there are too many dances left for to learn."

=/\="Energize, Chief,"=/\= he said to his combadge.

****

ch'Rhian
Planetary Surface
Diplomatic Shuttle Port

The last shuttle's engines receded into the dark sky, dwindling until it was a tiny speck of light, and then vanished.

Victor looked at the sky for a moment longer as the few Marines and Romulan technicians that had overseen the evacuations began to scatter, and then shouldered his case and turned towards the city outside the shuttleport, the rioting and sirens filling the air like a symphony of chaos.

The list had been short six names when the shuttle lifted off... somewhere on this planet he had six sheep to find and herd back home.

He wondered if they'd thank him when it was all said and done. Probably not, but that was all right, he didn't need their thanks. That wasn't why he did this. When it came down to it, the reason was simple: he was this, a tiger watching sheep... or he was like the Hydrans, a monster out to devour them.

He'd rather be the tiger, he thought, the memory of Angelienia's arms holding him returning for a moment, and giving him an insight that he'd never realized before

Monsters never got the girls.

It was good to be the tiger.

"First Appointment...." [Set a little before the Hydrans arrive]

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

Chief Medical Officer

USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik

Counsellor

USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy – Deck 11

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stood in the doorway of the main sickbay Kimberly looked around at the scurrying figures in the ward. The lights around the room were all dim, and the bio beds were mostly lit by handhelds that flashed around wildly occasionally as people grabbed for instruments and PADDs. Considering the situation they now found themselves in she felt the current drill wasn’t really unreasonable, unlikely yes, but not unreasonable.

For this drill she had killed all main power and primary backups, leaving everyone only with secondary backups at fifty percent. She had also taken away the holodocs, though they were acting in the capacity of ‘patients’ in this simulation. She had also ‘killed’ the CMO, ACMO and the chief surgeon, leaving the rest of the staff to cope.

Right now she got the impression that killing the CMO was a popular thought.

“Three minutes people!” she called to the room at large, reminding them all of the time they had left before a leaky plasma regulator nearby would irrevocably irradiate them, ~ They must hate me! ~ She thought. Looking around she tapped her PADD and checked on the status of the ‘Patients’. ~ Not bad, ~ she admitted to herself privately, they had lost two so far but one of those was to be expected, the simulation had called for that ‘patient’ to die, the other though? ~ Well find out what happened to that one in the post mortem! ~

Watching for a moment longer she observed as the patients were triaged neatly and either beamed out of stabilized before being removed from the ward. Within two minutes the ward was quiet and totally evacuated except for one solitary hologram lying on the floor, ‘dead’ from it wounds.

Bringing the main systems back online Kimberly watched as her staff filtered in from the various doors they had departed by, smiling at them as they perched on beds or sat down she nodded at a couple.

“Okay people, that wasn’t too bad. You had everybody out well before the leak got terminal, there were a few points though we’ll have to go over in the debrief. For now, get the ward squared away and the holograms reset from training mode, next drill will be a surprise drill,” she added with a smile, “so be on your toes. Debrief will be tomorrow at oh nine hundred, everyone bring your patient notes and drill notes. See you then.”

Watching as everyone got to work putting everything back where it belonged and resetting equipment from training modes she popped into her office and downloaded her notes. They could be written up later she decided, for now she was a little late for an appointment she realised.

Making her way quickly to the counselling department she tapped on one of the many doors that lined the hallways.

The knock on the door came as something of a surprise for the room's occupant, since he knew he had a good hour before his next appointment was due - or so he supposed. As it was, he was sat down eating a quick piece of Hasperat - which, of course, he'd prepared himself last night. With so many people off the ship, it was, all in all, pretty quiet for the Counselling staff. Sure, they had a few appointments each, but mostly they were spending their time catching up on paperwork (or sleep, in some case, he suspected).

Standing up, Miramon walked over to the door, hitting the switch as he got close enough and sticking his head outside to see who was looking. It took him a second to place the person that was standing there, but suddenly the name and identity came back in a snap. Yeah, it was the CMO. Now there was a face you normally didn't want to see standing outside your door without an appointment.

The thought of that made his mind race suddenly as he realised the probable reason for her presence outside the door of his office.

"Doctor, seriously, your office hasn't filed an appointment for my physical yet, so you can't blame me for missing an appointment I didn't know I had. But if you want to reschedule, I'm fine with that. Okay?"

Letting the Bajoran Counsellor finish his seemingly panic driven explanation she smiled at him disarmingly, “Actually Lieutenant,” she admitted after a second, one in which she realize he was not only good looking, but ‘very’ good looking, “I’m here because ‘I’ made an appointment to see you,” holding out a PADD she raised an eyebrow, “didn’t you get the memo?”

Miramon raised a fair eyebrow, then shook his head. "Apparently not. T'Reev is supposed to keep track, so obviously didn't mention it." He poked his head briefly back outside the door. "Speaking of which, where is T'Reev? He didn't miss an appointment for his physical, too, did he? If so, maybe he's in hiding. I'll admonish him later," he said, with a slightly arch smile. "You wanna come in or are you happy standing outside my door, scaring off potential appointments?"

“Me? Scare people?” she said with mock horror, “Perish the thought,” indicating the office behind him, “Let’s sit, I’d like to have a chat with you about another matter while I’m here as well, but that I’d rather discuss in your office.”

"Then step inside and make yourself at home, Doctor. My office is, for the moment, your office."

Watching Miramon turn and enter she found her eyes wandering down his back and check the Lieutenant out as he walked in, ~ Easy girl! ~ she admonished herself, ~ Later! ~ “So how’s, the ah new job going?” she asked as they walked in.

"Not badly, thank you, although I'm finding that it does come with a lot of paperwork. I thought I had a lot when I was on the senior staff, but now I have reports to file, articles to read from the Federation Psychological Council, personnel files to go through, check-ups to co-ordinate. And, on top of all that, I still have to conduct my various appointments."

He moved over to the replicator, motioning the CMO over to the long couch that was parked over towards the back of the room. Although he'd only recently topped up his cup of hot tea, it would have been rude to drink alone, especially during an appointment he apparently didn't know he had.

"Can I offer you something, Doctor?"

“Chilled fruit juice please,” she asked as she sat in the comfy chair that faced the couch.

"One fruit juice, 10 degrees Celsius, random flavour." The replicator hummed for a moment, and then the glass appeared, containing a liquid best unidentified, at least to him. Fruit juice should really only be drank freshly squeezed, but most people didn't seem to mind the replicators, so no doubt the Doctor wouldn't mind.

He walked over to where she was sat down and placed the glass on the low coffee table just in front of her, before sitting himself down on the sofa and picking up his own cup of tea, taking a sip of the fragrant beverage, enjoying the sensation of it as it touched the tastebuds on his tongue.

"So, to use an Earth expression, what's up, Doc?"

Accepting the drink she laughed at the comment, “Well, not a huge amount really, I just decided it was time to make a decision on who’ll get the joyous task of certifying me sane enough to do my job is all, so here I am, plus once we’re done we have a mutual acquaintance to discuss but that’s for later. For now,” spreading her hands slightly as she set the juice down, “what would ‘you’ like to know?”

"Hmm..." Miramon leaned back in his chair, pondering his first question. He hadn't had opportunity to prepare for a psychological examination, so he was going to have to do this off the cuff. "Do you consider yourself sane, Doctor?"

“I like to think so,” sitting back so she was comfortable in the chair she studied the man opposite her.

"Okay, and do you have any evidence to the contrary?"

“Define evidence?” she asked curiously.

"Well, any indications of clinical insanity that would give me reason to think that you were anything other than sane," Miramon said, with a smile. To his mind, the psychological evaluations were designed not to determine whether a person was sane, but to see how they were handling life aboard a starship - was the stress getting to them, were they sleeping alright, did they suffer from occasional bouts of depression etc? Right now he was just playing with the CMO.

“Well, I do talk to myself a lot, but then doesn’t everyone…. Other than that what would you consider an indication of insanity? I haven’t had any irrational urges lately, no drunken brawls, no new obsessions, so define insanity?” she asked with a faint grin.

"Actually, if you talk to the Marines and Pilots aboard ship, they would say that the lack of all the aforementioned constitutes insanity, Doctor." Miramon noted, with a smile curving across his features. Neither the doctors nor the counsellors aboard ship ever particularly enjoyed submitting themselves to the evaluations of their respective departments, so it didn't hurt to lighten the mood. "But the fact that you know that pretty much tells me that you're sane. How have you been sleeping?"

“At night usually,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye, “though seriously, there’s the occasional night I do have trouble sleeping, either my mind still working on the day’s work or I’m just awake. Happens to us all occasionally,” she added, trying to dismiss it lightly.

"I'll take your word for that one. And how about work? Any unusual amounts of stress? Too much paperwork? Are you finding yourself tired earlier in the day? At this point, you'd be asking me if I were getting enough Vitamin C, but we'll stick with the purely psychological questions at this stage."

"Unusual amounts of stress? Well, let's see, we're in Rihannsu space, getting ready to fight a Hydran fleet that's slowly decimating the Rihan military, I'm CMO of the USS Galaxy…. Stress enough there…. I've gotta arrange for a replacement ACMO, again, plus I have a teenage ward who's managing to make the Hydran thing look like a pleasant day at the beach. So, no, not really. But I am getting plenty of vitamin C." she assured him raising her fruit juice.

"Well, noting that I'm speaking to a doctor, have you had any physical symptoms which indicate that you're suffering from high levels of stress? Don't lie to your counsellor this time, otherwise I'll be more than evasive come my next physical exam."

“Ah, but if you’re more evasive come your next physical, then I’ll just have to ‘probe’ deeper for the truth,” she suggested with an arch look, “I have some old twentieth century implements around somewhere I’m sure,” laughing merrily at the look on his face she smiled, “seriously though, and truthfully, I would have to say yes, but then I imagine right now half the crew at least would say yes as well.”

Miramon grimaced at the thought. There were some things that were really not worth exploring, and as much as he liked to stay healthy, there were a few aspects about professional medicine which were really best left unconsidered.

"And what are you doing about these symptoms, whatever they happen to be?"

“Prayer and meditation most days, plus I have a holonovel series I run when I can that I like and I try to get out once in a while with a friend, but that’s sort of embryonic right now,” she admitted.

"Okay. My last question: based on the above, do you feel you possess the stamina and mental capability to continue doing your job with efficiency?"

Actually pausing a moment Kimberly looked thoughtful, “Mental capability, yes,” she agreed after a moment, “Stamina though? I do get tired, but then we all are aren’t we?”

"Sometimes, sure." Miramon replied. "There are times when I end up being kept awake for a good few hours beyond the normal myself, but mostly, I sleep well enough. I have noticed quite a lot of people do look tired, but whether they suffer the resulting stress or not is something I only ever determine when they're sat on my couch."

He took another sip of his potent tea, watching the brunette sitting across from him with an intense gaze, his expression purely calm.

"Your examination is over now, Doc. I'll add my report to your file and you're clear for a few months. And to think, I didn't even have to chase you."

“Part of the fun of the chase is being caught occasionally,” grinning mischievously, “perhaps another time then?” Realising she was babbling a little she shut up and took a deep breath, ~ I do like his counselling style though! ~ she admitted, ~ He’s left well enough alone the things that don’t concern fleet and asked about work, everything else can follow, nice. ~

“Before I go though, I was wondering if we could chat, professionally, about two individuals aboard? You may point me to Commander Dallas, but I believe one you actually know.”

"One of whom is Lieutenant Eshe, yes?" he asked, cutting to the chase. "I sent my report to you with regards to her but a few days ago."

“Lieutenants Eshe and London,” she said simply, “two separate cases though.”

"I know Branwen. What does she have to do with this?"

“Well, as I said, its two separate enquiries really, One was a follow up on your memo about Dhani and the other is Lieutenant London. Have you heard about the request for a full evaluation on Lieutenant London and the, incident, a short while back with a member of the Miranda’s crew?”

Miramon shook his head, trying to think as to whether or not he'd received that particular memorandum. It didn't sound particularly familiar, but he wasn't kept apprised as to the goings on within the whole department - he wasn't the Chief Counsellor, nor the Assistant Chief, so he just did his job and reported back to the two that did hold those positions.

"That sounds more like something that would come across Karyn's desk, as opposed to mine. But if it's something I can help with, I'd be happy to," Miramon noted, taking another sip of his tea as soon as he was finished.

“Considering the situation aboard I wondered if it had passed across your desk is all, perhaps I should speak to Karyn about Ms London then,” she decided, “however, Dhani.” She announced softly, “You CC’d me in on the memo, how exactly can I be of help?”

"Well, I thought it necessary to give you, as you say, a heads up." Miramon observed with a soft smile. "You've obviously dealt with Dhanishta before, so I needed to make sure you were kept apprised of what was going on. Also, you are more familiar with the circumstances I described to you in the memo, regarding her first experience with an empathic echo. Do you think it possible that these incidents could be related, Doctor?"

“I’m certainly not going to dismiss the possibility,” Kimberly assured him, “and I can attest to the fact first hand that her parapsychological powers are quite potent. Do we have an ESP counsellor aboard?”

"Counsellor V'Lot is the expert on telepathic occurrences, so she would know more about this than either of us. Nonetheless, Dhanishta did not go to her, so we have to work within the parameters of counsellor-client confidentiality. I'm not going to go to V'Lot with the 'If I, hypothetically, had a client that had this problem' just in order to gain her opinion."

“Agreed…. I guess I should point out here that I’ve been seeing Dhani socially. We’re, almost friends,” she said a little hesitantly, “she has this thing about Doctors and Counsellors, but I like to think she’s starting to see me as more than my profession, ever since she blew up in sickbay a while back I’ve been trying to understand her a little better, but it’s slow going.”

"You are more than your profession, Doctor. That she sees this is a good sign." Miramon said. His expression was still typically calm, his eyes, for the moment, focused on the hot cup of tea that he was holding in his hands, as though he were lost in thought. "Have your observations yielded any insights?"

Hesitating a moment Kimberly thought about what to say next, “I’m hesitant to actually answer that yet, I think that part of the reason for the current rapport between myself and Dhani is that I am separating work and private life. And there’s an element of trust there as well, trust that I won’t use what we discuss in medical situations. This is a good example of why we don’t treat our own friends,” she mused, “without talking to her first I wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing our interaction.

"Then you should do that, unless you don't feel any of your insights would benefit in diagnosis and treatment of whatever it is that ails her - whether it is indeed another empathic echo, or something a little more difficult to spot."

Miramon, of course, knew fully well that they were both a little out of their depth here. He was good with observing people and helping them discover the root causes of their problems, but he was not trained in knowledge of the extents one could perhaps reach with telepathy and empathy. He had no ability in either, so the extent of his knowledge in such was diminished as a result. All he could do was hope that the CMO had better information to hand.

"What do you recommend we do, Doctor?"

“Honestly, without having access to a qualified PSI counsellor in this instance, I think its best we wait for a little while. Just settle into a routine if possible with Dhani, let her get used to you, sit down with her maybe once a week if you can for starters and chat, let her open up at her own pace. It’s not perfect but with recent events and experiences, I feel safe saying it’s best to let her set the pace to start with. How does that sound?”

"Very well. If things get worse, or it starts to affect her job performance, we'll step things up a little. Unless you have any objections, of course."

Shaking her head, “No, no objections. Dhani has started by coming to you so that in itself is a good sign, but let’s keep an eye on her for now.” Standing, “Perhaps we should get together in a day or two, compare notes?” she suggested tentatively.

Standing up as soon as the CMO did so, considering it impolite to sit when a lady stands, Miramon stretched his back muscles slightly with a furtive movement of his shoulders, at the same time offering the woman a nod of agreement.

"That all suits me, Doctor. I'll keep you apprised if anything else happens, if you would be kind enough to do the same," he said, his voice both calm and slightly detached, as it often sounded when he was sticking to professionalism.

“Of course, and thank you Lieutenant, until later then.”

"Thanks for stopping by, Lieutenant," he replied, amused by the way she'd referred to him by rank. They were both of the same rank, so she wasn't exactly his superior officer. He watched as she walked out of his office and as the door closed shut behind her. The Bajoran gave a slightly amused smile and shook his head, then headed over to his desk.

Back to work...

"From Dusk 'Til Dawn" - Part I

By James Mitchell, CAG, USS Miranda

*** Somewhere outside Ki Baratan City Limits ***

Night had fallen on Romulus, and with it, the common sounds of the eerily quiet city had gone with it.

Most of Ki Baratan's population had been evacuated, and those that had not gone on were of the sort that felt it was yet another trick by the Senate to cast fear into their iron hearts, the stubborn, or the destitute that had missed the last transports out.

All that remained were the various industries that churned out resources for the city, the militaries of both ch'Rihan and Starfleet, and the bound-to-come-out-soon looters.

James Mitchell stood on the highest point of the above-ground section of the bunker where Romulus' Center of Operations for Planetary Command was situated. Kind of. Actually, the command center was a kilometer below the planet's crust, and several more away. Standard deceptive fare.

"It's a beautiful night, Colonel, do you not agree?"

James closed his eyes and breathed in the scents of the breezes that carried the clean air from the Fhaern forest and onward from the wide open fields of birthed lavender flora to the great river that divided the capital from Latasalaem City on the other side. Beside him, also leaning on the charcoal railing that overlooked the warmed Scorpions, Rogues, and Corsairs - the Sabers, Banzai's, and all fast-attack and short-range fighters were up in orbit, waiting for other shoe to drop - was his 'superior', Riov Jelok, direct subordinate to Enriov Tagva. They were as ready as they were going to be up there, and the Bajoran wished he could be sharing in it.

"The calm before the storm, Riov." He opened his eyes, feeling the first vestiges of adrenaline drop into his bloodstream. It coalesced with the cool chill that came with it.

"Perhaps, but Ravsam the Sisters look down upon us." He extended one green-tinted hand, visible in the faint lights of the conn tower behind them, and leaned into the Bajoran to point out the constellation of 12 symmetric stars shining down from the northern sky. "It's said that her appearance in the late season's skies is a sign of victory."

"And they also say Dhael the Raptor alongside them is an omen." James pointed out the opposing constellation along the western horizon. "That it hunts them eternally, and if it catches them, then the Night of Terror is unleashed as a plague of horrors over the people. Looks like he has them in his sights."

Riov Jelok laid his opaque eyes on James' profile, assessing the other man's character, and then nodding. "All just stories told to scare children into getting to bed at night. Not unlike your boogeyman."

"Looks like young ones will be getting to bed on time for the next few years then. Depending on what we do here."

Jelok nodded mildly, then turned back to gaze at the night sky. A gust of wind blew out of the forest, whipping his ponytail up and over his shoulder. It was followed by similar gales of varying speeds, and some of the stars winked out to the south.

"Looks like that storm climatology started up is brewing, Colonel. They say Hydran sensor technology is impaired by the electro-magnetics our planet enjoys. I hope they're right."

"Riov," James laid both arms on the railing, crossing them over each other, "Have you ever fought in a full-scale conflict to hold your planet?" He cut off the Romulan before he could answer. "No, you haven't. ch'Rihan has never seen combat. Not in anyone's lifetimes here, anyways. You can throw up the biggest storms, the worst weather, and use all the technology at your disposal to fight off an attacking force, but technology can fail and only does what it's told when it works. The only constant that fights with any reason to is the soul. It can turn the tide, or lose the war. It all comes down to the heart. The Hydrans have the same technology, the same machines, the same general tactics, and they have the orbital advantage. But they lack the Romulan heart. That's the one thing Intel can't give them any tactical and strategic leverage."

"Do you have someone, Colonel? A family, a loved one?" Jelok reached into his tunic as James was about to reply. A droplet of rain fell on his cheek, and he ignored it.

"I'm not sure, Riov. It's complicated." He didn't want to get into his personal life with a Romulan of all beings.

"Then you shall have to tell it to me after this is all over." He pulled out a laminated piece of plastic, ignoring James' deference to his prior question, and handed it to James, who glanced, but did not take it.

"This is my family. My wife, Lhiana, and our three children." He pointed to each, as more raindrops fell on the holo-photo. "My son, Khrelaen - he's twelve of your Earth years old. Ghani, my oldest daughter, who just turned eight yesterday, and Traena, six years old." When James didn't say anything, the Riov pulled the photo back into his tunic. The Bajoran watched, but remained silent. Some soldiers he noticed in his travels did this as a sort of bonding and final farewell to their companions, but the CAG would have none of it.

"They are in the hills now. Lhiana refused transport to another planet. She had wanted to be here with us, but in the end she knew her place was with the children." It didn't need to be said between the two men that nowhere on this planet would be safe once the attack began. And beyond that, no planet in the Empire would be if Romulus fell. They'd seen the footage of Judaris. The planet probably still burned.

Out in the forest, the cry of a zdonek broke the stillness, and the Riov out of his reverie. He returned to the stalwart and starched behavior of a soldier about to enter the fray.

"Enough of this nostalgia. We have work to do."

The Bajoran nodded, looking back up into the sky where a light flashed in one of the clearer sections where cloud cover had not rolled in.

"Look! The battle's begun." Both looked to the sky as immediately the fighter platforms illuminated the craft undersides in shades of scarlet so as not to be seen visually from orbit. Above them, more flashes erupted across the sky, like lightning pulsing through the clouds on a hot summer night.

Immediately the air raid sirens went to work, all across the planet. James and Jelok sprinted without hesitation, the perimeter of the conn deck, sliding down stair railings until arriving on the flight deck. By then, all the platform lights had lit, and deck doors were opening on the tarmac to raise the larger vertically fired slingshot ships that marked an older era. For as far as the eye could see, fighters and craft of all sorts were lined up, already warmed, and ready for flight.

James and Jelok gave quick nods to each other before boarding their respective AWACS crafts.

As the Bajoran piled into his mobile command center, already his staff was assembled and finalizing the flight checks before lift-off. The pops and booms of what could only be debris falling through the planetary atmosphere before crashing into the countryside shook the craft as sonic booms rippled nearby. The hum of the thrusters rose above the din, as the command officer walked the length of the Corsair before settling into the co-pilot's seat up front. A bright flash blinded him, as a string of the vertical slingshot craft erupted in a massive wall of flame and exploded, sending shrapnel and disintegrating body parts into their windshield.

"Get us up! Get us up!" He yelled at the Rihannsu pilot over the noise, struggling to get his helmet and mike on, all while struggling against the shockwaves and shakes threatening to spin their craft into the side of the tower. Feeling the inertial dampeners come online, the ship moved up and away from the airstrip, but not quick enough to avoid another shockwave that trundled up from below. They'd hardly had time to prepare.

Alarms screamed all over the cockpit, the pilot was yelling something at somebody, but somehow, they managed to stabilize.

"Take us up and into the cloud cover, Arrain!" James had finally managed to get his helmet on, and was able to assess the damage to the craft on-the-fly. Nothing that couldn't be overcome. A bent stabilizer, one of the inertial dampeners was offline, and sensors were glitchy, but nothing that a diagnostic couldn't fix. The ablative armor had held off the worst of the collateral damage.

As they circled the tarmac, James could see that most of the craft had gotten off the ground before the majority of the damage had been inflicted. At the strip of verticals that had almost incinerated them on the tarmac, a massive shear of metal had embedded itself in the runway. On closer inspection, it was obvious it came from a Starfleet ship.

There was no time to figure out what ship it came from, they had to get themselves in position for what was bound to come. The aerial assault. Thoughts of Arel were pushed aside for the moment.

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda-B

Deck 14, Tagra-McAlister Quarters

TJ was finally sleeping after a...prolonged and intense intimate time with Jacen. Things hadn't been that way since their Joining, not that the time since was uneventful, just a touch monotonous. 'Must come with the relationship solidifying as much as it has' he once thought. But their split and subsequent reunion changed that. The fire and passion where new, yet oddly familiar. He and Jacen where enjoying the slumber when the klaxons blared. They scared TJ enough to where he fell out of bed trying to swing at empty air. He landed with a loud 'thud'. Jacen just peered over the edge, "You OK Spots?" TJ stood and moved to get a fresh uniform, though rubbing his rear from the fall, "I will be." He got his pants on quickly and got the undershirt on without fighting the sleeves. It took two tries to figure out which boot went to what foot. He got up and grabbed his jacket and turned to Jacen, "I love you Smoothnose. Stay here, use the phaser under the bed. Set it to the highest settings," he held up a finger, "No arguments. I just got you back and I don't intend on losing you." They leaned in and kissed one another passionately, not forgetting what they just shared a few short hours ago. And, as if on cue, they separated and said, "I love you." Jacen put his hand on TJ's left cheek, still getting used to his beard, "You stay low and safe. Come back to me." TJ just leaned in and kissed Jacen's forehead, "No worries my t'rrenn. The Prophets couldn't keep me from you." He kissed Jacen again and walked out, never looking back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Deck 40, Main Engineering

TJ was assaulted by noise and people running around getting everything in order. Dawson was directing everyone, though it looked like he hadn't had any coffee yet. T'Jaden just went over to his station and started securing everything that he could think of. He secured all his personal files with his specialized encryption codes and began last minutes systems checks. As those where being performed by the computer, he got out his 'Plan B' from its locker next to his station. He heard that they needed to expect boarding parties and the possibility of being taken hostage, so he was going to be prepared. He just hoped that it would be enough to stomp back the darkness. And so he waited. The last minute checks cleared and everyone began getting into a combined rhythm. Then the thought hit him, 'Here it comes.'

off: before the battle begins :)

"Battle Fork"

Cmdr. Arel Smith
Korvin Smith, age 5
Jenny of Vulcan

*****

USS MIRANDA

Korvin was standing by the door in full pout mode- arms crossed, scowl fixed, and large eyes that were quickly filling with equally large tears.

Arel Smith mentally cursed the Hydrans for having the nerve to try and take over the gorram universe, deciding that she needed to come up with some creative way to express her displeasure.

She'd never tried to disembowel someone with a fork, for example.

"I have to go, Gremlin." Arel told him in a tone she hoped was no-nonsense. To her it sounded like she was about to crack. She hated leaving Korvin on board where she couldn't protect him but, of course, it wasn't practical to take him down to the planet either.

Luckily, Sanchez would be in charge while she was away. The woman was a good security officer and hadn't taken offense when Arel had said that she would chop Sanchez into little bits if anything bad happened to Korvin.

Korvin sniffed. "But I don't WANT you to."

"I don't want to either but it's my duty." She said. "You remember what I explained about duty?"

Her son nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Yes, I remember. But ... but ... what if you get LOST?"

The kid broke her heart sometimes. "I won't."

"What if you get eaten by a MONSTER?"

"I'm pretty sure the planet is monster-free."

His lower lip trembled. "What if the High-drans kill you?"

"Korvin," Arel said. "Don't be insulting."

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO!" Korvin wailed and then started sobbing.

Arel picked him up and hugged him tightly, deciding that disembowelment with a fork just wasn't painful enough. "I'll be back soon, Kor. I promise. We can go play on the Holodeck. Maybe I'll even ask the Colonel if you can visit the fighters again."

"Really?" Korvin asked hopefully into her shoulder. She sighed slightly, knowing that she'd just resigned herself to spending a couple of boring hours in the fighter bay while the boys talked about ships. Oh, well. It was worth it.

And hopefully Rena would be there to harass.

"But until then, be good for Jenny and her SoS, okay? And take care of K'Laudia."

Arel paused, considering. "But if the Hydrans get on board the ship, you throw the damn cat at them and run. No hero stuff, okay?"

Korvin nodded while from her place on top of the couch, K'Laudia hissed at her.

"You'll live." Arel told the cat.

"Unfortunately." Jenny said from her place at the kitchen table.

"Keep him safe, Jenny." Arel reminded the girl for about the fifth time.

"Of course, Commander." The Vulcan said without looking up from her books.

She gently set Korvin back on the ground and then stepped back, thinking that leaving a child behind was probably one of the harder things in Starfleet life. "Love you, Gremlin."

"Love you, Mommy."

Arel kissed him on the cheek. "Go play with Jenny now, okay?"

"Yes, Mommy." The little boy said and then shuffled over to the table.

Arel wondered, as she walked toward the turbolift, if one could behead a Hydran with a fork.

No deed goes unpunished

The Ronin Story - Chapter 1

Ensign Zev Raynor - Terran Telepath
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer USS Galaxy

OC: Hopeless lost and behind in the story and trying to figure out what the hell is going on... after TRYING to catch up... I've just decided to do a bit of a solo story for now... I hope no one minds but I've been wanting to do this for a while. I know I'm dropping this from nowhere... I can only hope you will put up with my bullshit as it is.

Raynor sat on in front of his desk drumming over the raw input files of the conversations that Saul and others had over what the hell happened to the missing fleet. Each recording was basically a repeat of the offical story, some were got a little heated, others were the plain old cold shoulder.

He already had several AI programs running on various locations on Romulus trying to hack into the military's mainframe to acquire the information but those programs were designed to link whatever information they found to several officers who hung out at a one particular run-down bar, that Raynor had been beaming down to every night, getting each one of those officers very drunk. Eventually he got around to asking a few questions here and there about vaguely related to the fleet. Those officers leaked only extremely vague hints after a few days of him buying them drinks, but on this end he was failing to get the information. But that was the plan, for this part anyways.

He went there to be watched. To be noticed. And to fail miserably. For the benefit of the Romulan government and Intelligence community they would have to believe that this Intelligence officer was failing to achieve the information he saught and therefore wasn't a threat. Unless of course his superiors let the Romulans know they knew, then this would be assumed source of the supposed leak and they would kill off a few people that Raynor couldn't even force himself to give a damn about.

Nothing could be further from the truth. He could of called in a few favours here and there to achieve the information, but that would burn up those one time contacts, which wasn't something he was about to risk. Instead he was spending the better part of his day sitting in his quarters, over his computer, developing a nasty hunch, going over records the Romulans knew we had, yet didn't care one way or the other about. Not exactly the way you imagine a spy to go about collecting vital information.

He was going over these conversations that his superiors had with high ranking Romulan officals. And it was through these conversations, of Romulans speifically telling them how they didn't know anything, that he was going to find out everything. He listened to them over and over again, constantly comparing data from one conversation to another, building up an exact image of what the Romulans think happened.

And we was doing it using records the Romulans knew they had through recording devices that they not only wore openly. 'Universal translators, and how they were so underused,' he thought to himself. 'It's funny that no one besides the Ronin have thought this up..."

Universal translators 101: the translator picks up brain waves, does a frequency analysis of different patterns, and translates these into "universal" linguistic concepts.

'What people missed was the part about translating brainwaves. You can think about a lot more things than what your talking about, but generally those thoughts will be focused on whatever the hell your talking about.

Like say if one was lying about what one happen to know about a certain missing fleet, one would think about the truth of said fleet.

And unlike probing someone's mind telepathically, this leaves no trace and can be done by a dog walking by, with the proper equipment. Plus there is no mental discipline developed by any race to fooling a universal translator or defending against it.

Of course translating thought gets a whole lot more complicated especially given the fact that you have many thoughts, some brain waves could be thinking about bowel movement for example or if a Romulan had this massive itch that they wanted to scratch so badly but couldn't because they were in public.

And when your working with software you had to build yourself rather than a team of dedicated programmers who had been perfecting it for generations... its going to take sometime.

So for a week or more... he wasn't sure which but probably more... he had working non-stop on interrepting this data. AND spending a few hours each day watching low ranking Romulan officers who knew nothing, but seemed to be hacking the network get shit faced, trying to ask them some questions about the fleet and getting no information. He did all of this because he wanted to appear like a failure in their eyes, therefore ignorable until his superiors decided to let the Romulans know, we had stolen the information from them.

Intelligence was a very mind numbing game, when you did it right. And when your using devices in such a way that no one was meant to use them. Aside from all the information on the fleet... he started getting general ideas of overall fleet deployments, internal relationships and dealings, and everything esle that an outsider was not supposed to know... he pretty much compiled his report, and sent off all of the information he had managed to collect before heading to the planet one last time.

'One more round with a few direction questions...' thought to himself. Why he even bothered with these rounds... he knew he had to pretend like he was a useless agent... but still. He felt tired... not from the all the work... he nearly doing that literally in his sleep.

He changed into his casual clothes which was pretty much your standard all black get up complete with very intimidating yet mysterious trenchcoat which could literally hide a pregancy underneath its cloth and which deflected every type of scan except for your giving your basic life signs. He went over to his gun rack and loaded up with two wakizashi-style phasers (blade one end, phaser on the other), as well as his other guns Kiki and Bambam, and he standard bag tricks.

He put on his sunglasses, and walking out the door... he almost felt like Batman.

5 minutes later...

He was on the surface... in the middle of dark alley. He wasn't terribly worried the vast majority of this city was dark alley, in which certian dealings could take place. Not that he would KNOW that, being an 'outsider'. And it was in one of these many dark alleys that this bar was located...

He took two steps, and he sensed them. He rolled his eyes, took a quick glance his surroundings... crooked, and narrow... normally that would be good, limited angles of approach, but these with these two he was sensing... he would want open space. Only one place to go... scale the walls upward, hope to god he somehow made it, and then deal with these bastards on a nice flat rooftop.

~You've got a full clip of ammo, half a pack grenades, it's dark, and your wearing sunglasses.~ Madden commented from the shadows of his mind.

"Let's hit it."

"Best Face Forward... March!"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London- SFMC Platoon Leader 188th 'Furies' Detachment ===================================================

(Ra'tleihfi, ch'Rihan)

For'kel had been on thge planet for, literally, all of an hour. Already one

of Charlie Company's patrols had come across an incident of 'public distress' as one Corporal Hosh had put it. They'd managed to disperse the crowd with less force than customary on Romulus... they certainly weren't in Kansas anymore.

At the very least he wasn't alone. In addition to a squad from Alpha Company's 1st Platoon, the Stagnorian Marine had an addition from the Galaxy's force, which suited him just fine. "So Lieutenant, how are you enjoying Romulus so

far?"

"It's different Sir." She said. Branwen kept her eyes open, she did not want to be ambushed ever again during her career. And she was also observing how the Miranda Marine did things. So far she didn't see many differences between the two forces.

The surroundings had 'died'... considerably. Gone were the grandiose estates situated around the capitol itself, as too were the middle-class city 'center'. They were, as the Terran saying went, on the wrong side of the tracks. If that fact bothered him, For'kel never showed it. He had clear expectations of any 'advanced' society... the stratification on Romulus itself hardly meeting those expectations. Then again, he reminded himself, he was from a different society, different values, different ethics... excetera excetera.

Part of him wanted to lead a revolution himself, the other more reasonable part remembered he had a mission to accomplish, and that for now, all he could do was try and make sure those who couldn't provide for themselves were being given emergency supplies that would 'hopefully' see them through any rough-spot.

"With respect, can I ask you something, Sir?" Branwen asked without taking her eyes of her surroundings.

"Ofcourse Lieutenant, and you don't need to call me sir." For'kel for his part turned around for a second or two just to make sure they weren't being 'overtly' followed. "For'kel would do, or failing that, Colonel."

"You seem to have a very different style of command than Lieutenant Baile. Also you seem more friendly not like my commanding officer or major Shaw."

For'kel chuckled, not exactly knowing how to take that at first. "Thank you

Lieutenant, but Major Shaw is actually quite nice when you get to know him, and I don't know enough about Lieutenant Baile to make any valid conclusions

about him. I would assume he's a capable leader, despite his less than stellar performance record, otherwise the Corps would have removed him, I'm sure. The thing is Lieutenant, you don't 'need' to be mean, especially not if you have

the respect of those under you. They are all Marines, they know the drills,

they know their duties and responsibilities. As a leader, it's not ours to force, it's ours to lead. If you take good care of your Marines, treat them as one should soldiers willing to give their lives in the defense of the Federation and it's ideals, and do your best to keep them safe whenever possible, they will follow you regardless of the mission. It's about trust... many things in our line of work are." The Stagnorian gave a small grin. "Now you know why I rejected the idea of extra intelligence devices being installed."

"That's exactly what I try to do, sir." She said. "My commanding officer thinks I am too nice to the marines. He has a lot of experience and I really do respect him. I just cannot be like him." She mused glad to finally find a superior who was nicer and didn't mind talking.

The area the aid station had been set up in was 'something' of a park, kept in the same condition many community parks were... by small groups of dedicated individuals with nothing else to do. A platoon of Marines under Lieutenant Collins had already established the rudiments... there was a small hospital like ward for severe medical conditions to be attended to before any disaster struck, and a dispensary where emergency kits were assembled and being dispensed to a small, but growing crowd of Romulans. One poor Sergeant was in charge of ordering additional supplies from the industrial replicators of the assembled fleet and Romulus' own industrial bases, and he was getting deluged with orders.

"Ever hand out supplies before Lieutenant?"

"Not yet, sir. Not for real." She said.

"Well in that case, welcome to Civil Affairs one-oh-one, Lieutenant." For'kel unshouldered his rifle and gathered up several of the kits. "These are designed for a family of five to last a week... on the assumption that stores and industry will be shut down 'if' there's a war. Make sure every family gets one."

"Yes sir." Branwen said and started her new job. It was something she enjoyed, helping other people. One of the reasons she had also gone into counselling. Not a logical choice given that the elder sister who had raised her hated councelors. With one my she kept watching the Colonel to see what he was doing and how he was doing it.

The Stagnorian leaned down, offering a pair of kits to a young Romulan boy who was apparently on line as the representative of his family. For'kel's Romulan was limited to what he'd learned late night over the past couple of days, but it was sufficient enough in this case. Ofcourse, the boy's reply, 'satisfactory', in a context which suggested it was barely so, was one that could be chalked up to simple Romulan arrogance. Hey, even poor people had their pride.

Bran herself was helping a couple of little girls. They seemed nice enough and she smiled at them. The Welshwoman even tried some of her limited romulan on them. It was somehow much more relaxed then working with Baile. She looked up and gave the colonel a genuine smile, right now she was very happy in her job.

It wasn't that bad a job to have, even if the people sometimes seemed less grateful then simply sedated for receiving what they deserved. Certainly however, it beat out the thrill of being shot at, with or without effect, any day. For'kel was just heading back to get his rifle when the call came through. "Lieutenant Johnson to Colonel Arvelion, For'kel we have a situation developing."

"What's up Cougar?"

"We've got a riot on our hands in the eastern quarter... a couple of Romulan

security officers have already been over-run. We need reinforcements if we're going to disperse this crowd."

"I'm on my way." The Stagnorian picked up his rifle, tossing it over his shoulder. "Collins take charge here, Lieutenant London I can use a platoon from the 188th to help out." He looked over the coordinates of Cougar's position, offering the PADD to her next. "Make sure they're prepared for riot control." His eyes now turned to one of their Romulan observers. "You have a way we can get there?"

The Romulan nodded, running for a hover-car, For'kel following.

"yes sir." She shouted back jogging back to her own Galaxy marines and making sure they were ready and equipped for what the colonel needed. Finally they would see some action and a chance to show them what the Galaxy marines were made of.

Establishing T'Ashaya "on" the surface of ch'Rihan, as requested, is. . .

"A Three Hour Cruise" Part 3 in a series

Ensign Robert Mathieson, USS Galaxy (mentioned)
Ensign T'Ashaya

Somewhere below the surface of ch'Rihan = = =

The next few things happened so quickly that even T'Ashaya, with her Vulcan recall, had trouble explaining just how everything happened. She wondered if Doctor Mathieson would be able to recall the situation adequately enough to be of aid, should there be anyone to search for her. She believed the friendly curmudgeon would do his best. T'Ashaya knew that hope was very un-Vulcan, but she hoped it would be enough anyway.

At least she knew that the Doctor would be allowed to leave. That much seemed certain when she walked through the flow of events in her mind.

She warned the Senator about his proximity. The Senator touched her. She threw him overboard. Several people laughed. His personal guard rushed forward. The yacht circled back. Someone grabbed a boat hook.

A large guard struck T'Ashaya. Another guard struck her and another. This had strangely familiar feeling to T'Ashaya, one she could not adequately explain. She looked around, trying to find a way to escape. There was no chance of that. There were just too many of Aeime's guards around her. She saw the doctor thought the wall of bodies.

Mathieson moved to intervene. Yet another guard moved toward the doctor. The doctor's handler touched Mathieson's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. T'Ashaya's eyes met the Doctor's. She nodded. Live to fight another day. Mathieson let the handler lead him away from the skirmish.

Someone struck her in the back with something hard. The butt of a rifle? T'Ashaya didn't know. Her knees crumpled under her. It struck her again, this time in the back of the head.

She curled tightly into a ball, covering her head with her arms. She could no longer tell one blow from another. She smelled something sharp and coppery in the fresh salt air. She knew it was her own. She could feel her blood in her hair.

Don't resist. Don't scream, she told herself. She knew that would only make matters worse.

"Enough!" The senator bellowed. "Get her on her feet."

She was yanked roughly to her feet. Senator Aieme looked her over. He stood there, soaking wet, no longer looking distinguished or educated. T'Ashaya thought he looked like the human's Devil himself. Aieme slapped her hard enough that her head snapped to the side.

"Throw her in the hold until I figure out what to do with her," he seethed.

They left her in the hold for hours before moving her to her present location. They had moved her down, underground, and thrown her into a small, dark cell. She had felt her way around the room, trying to get a sense of it. The room no more than four and a half by six feet, the most. The walls felt like rough hewn stone. The door was solid and metal.

Yes, something about this all felt far too familiar for her comfort, down to the point detail that she could even hear the singers in the distance. Not the singers of ch'Rihan, though, something far more ancient and deadly . This time they didn't sing songs of joy. This time they sang like they were in pain.

She wondered she was remembering something. She sat and turned her thoughts inward, searching her mind for clues that it did not hold. Her body remembered, deep in her cells, it remembered and she felt cold.

T'Ashaya shivvered. Her head ached. She curled her limbs to her body to conserve heat.

She thought of Spa'an for a moment. If he were her mate, he would know she was in trouble right now. He would feel it.

He wasn't her mate though. How many months had he spent trying to avoid her aboard the ship? No, he wasn't likely to hear her or help. He had come down to Cetacean Lab One just to make certain she was leaving. It wasn't a very hopeful thought. She squeezed it thought from her mind. Right now, as illogical as hope might be, she needed it if she was going to survive.

That left her alone in the dark with the screams of the singers. The Vulcan Tsunami thought the screams were getting louder. She put her hands over her ears, as if that would block out the noise.

(ooc: set before the Hydran fleet arrives)

“Escape”

In’syu, npc

In’syu cradled her son tightly against her chest, so hard the baby began to squirm fighting for release. “I’m sorry...” she whispered a tear falling from her left eye hitting the cloth wrapped around her baby keeping him warm.

She had to get off this planet.

Away to safety. For her son!

Noise caught her attention. Screams and shouting. The sound seemed odd carried down the alley on a backdraft. Shifting her son ever so slightly, receiving a moan in response, In’syu moved cautiously closer to the bright opening.

Hundreds of her people were moving passed. She spotted a man shouting for a loved one, arms reaching out as if they could cross the impassable current and take hold of the person he’d lost. A woman’s cry was drowned in the deafening noise of the living wave.

A hand reached out suddenly grabbing In’syu, there was no escape as she became trapped within the steady stream. “Be calm In’syu...” a voice said as she continued her struggles against the iron grip. Slowly her mind pushed passed the fear, the anxiety of what was happening, it took hold of the voice one she recognised.

Turning she found herself staring at her neighbour. “Be calm...” he repeated with a genuine smile. He was twice In’syu’s age with wrinkles around the eyes and a slight grey tinge to strands of his hair, a distinguished man of the historical war section at the capital’s museum. His wife had past away many years ago, it was no secret he saw In’syu as that female companionship he so sorely missed. Nothing physically, more of a mental friendship. It had only been chance that had brought them together, and their friendship had quickly blossomed with both having an interest in history.

“Where--?”

The question died in her mouth as a man suddenly barged passed her. It was only her neighbour’s quick reflexes that saved her, and her baby, from being swallowed by the merciless tide of people that surrounded them. That moment was the first time she’d ever heard him curse, wide eyed with shock she looked at his concerned and angry face searching for the man who had so nearly killed two innocents.

“Where are we going?” she finally managed.

“There’s a transport, or so I’ve been told, that can take us away.” The words she had so longingly wanted to hear filled her hope. “Its not far... it’s...” His words trailed off as they suddenly broke left at a junction entering a main street. In front of them, even through the mass of people between them, they saw the transport.

A Starfleet ship.

A shuttle.

Even at this distance its size was too small. “Not everyone can fit in there...” she whispered to herself.

The hundreds if not thousands with her seemed to come to the same conclusion. With a sudden forceful push, which knocked In’syu down, the surge of people rushed forward, only to be stopped by a barricade. This fact was unknown to those behind who continued to push crushing the poor unfortunate souls trapped at the front, with no way out dozens were killed in the first few moments. While many were crushed at the front others found themselves hitting the ground having tripped or fallen, with no pause in the flow nor helping hand, all manner of footwear trampled them to their deaths.

It was chaos. This wasn’t a riot, but it was fast heading in that direction. Romulan officers raised their rifles while still trying to tell the civilians to head to their designated relief points, but their shouts fell on deaf ears. All their eyes saw was the transport and the simple fact these Romulan officers were keeping them from safety.

It was impossible to tell what started it. A stone thrown from an angered resident, a trigger happy Romulan, or a nervous rookie having his first taste of life in a uniform.

Whatever the catalyst the result remained.

With a bone crunching push the barrier separating the maddening crowd from the transport broke, limp bodies were unceremoniously pushed aside as the current poured through. Rifles fired hitting multiple victims. Gas grenades and rockets were launched exploding amongst the crowd, the spilling gas having an instant effect. More potent than concentrated C.S. gas dozens fell to their knees coughing up what they’d only recently had for lunch, with eyes burning others stumbled into each other unable to see through the tears streaming down their faces.

It took marines from a neighbouring sector three hours, and two casualties of their own, to establish any sense of order and control.

In the aftermath forty-seven were dead, including one three month old baby still cradled in the arms of its mother.

Yet this was just the beginning.

"The Story of the Year"

Tyrone Miller, Journalist
Federation News Service USS Galaxy

Romulus, a hub of activity, a centre of an Empire and a place that few Federation Citizens had ever been too. But, here he was. Tyrone Miller, Journalist. Right smack bang in the Biggest Story of the Year. Again.

The last time Tyrone had been in what he would have called a big story, he was covering Havras, and then he wasn't even allowed to publish what he'd written. Not until later anyway, once the Gag order had been repealled. But this, this was something else. Starfleet ships in orbit of ch'Rihan, and the Hydrans bearing down upon them. And Romulus itself, littered with Starfleet Security and Marines alike, here on this world, protecting its people.

Tyrone had decided early on that Ki Baratan was the place to be right about now, in the hub of Starfleet Activity on the surface. This was the place to be to get the story, this was the place to be to get the facts.

Tyrone had set himself up with the Galaxy's personnel early on. It made sense, as far as he was concerned. That way, he was in the thick of things. But the Romulan people themselves could very well be good subjects. And where better to find Romulans than on Romulus, in the Capital no less.

"A Hazardous Duty"

Lt. Man'darr Maivia
Chief Operations Manager/ Hazard Team Operative USS Miranda

<<Somewhere on the outskirts of Ki Baratan City Limits>>

Man'darr crouched on the high standing building, looking out over the horizon of the dark night, peering though his TR-116 Rifle's low-light imaging scope. The rifle was popular among the Hazard Personnel and all were trained on its use during Hazard Training. Man'darr preffered the TR-116 to a phaser rifle because it didn't give away your position, especially on a night like tonight. The moons of Romulus were mostly blocked out by scattered clouds as a light breeze blew across the land. Suddenly sirens pierced the silent night and a moment later, MAn'darr noticed the fighters taking off from nearby. Soon Man'darr heard a different sound...a sound unlike ones made by Federation fighters and shuttles--it had a different pitch and whine to it. Soon the area around him, seem to explode as Hydran shuttles zipped over the city, strafing it. Man'darr had instantly dropped to a prone position as small debris of stone, metal, and dirt fell on top of the building. He then hea! rd the shuttles come around, but this time he rolled onto his backa and took aim at the approaching shuttle and fired. The round penetrated the hull due to the round transporter and rematerialized inside the shuttle.

The pilot of the shuttle never saw what killed him as his head seemed to instantly explode, driving the shuttle head-first into the ground a few yards from Man'darr's position.

Man'darr came to a knee as he peered through his scope once again. He then noticed several flashes ont he ground nearby and instantly turned his attention to them, instantly slapping his communicator =/\=Hazard Three to Marines. I Hydran Ground Troops transporting just outside the Northern side of the city.=/\=

"Guilt and Duty"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

============================= Somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus =============================

Era stumbled, carrying the bleeding boy in her arms. While she tried to look past his shoulder to see where she was going, the evening sky lit up suddenly. Above her head, the fighting had started.

The sight brought her to a full-stop. As arcs of fire tore the heavenly dome asunder, Era's academic bubble popped. Little details, things that she hadn't noticed before, began to finally register. In the store, there had hardly been anyone. As a matter of fact, now she thought about it, the only clerk in the place had been an elderly Romulan woman who had spent half the time muttering to herself. Era hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now the deserted character of the boutique hit her and sent a chill down her spine, nevermind the apocalyptic misgivings of the Romulan.

Then there had been the restaurant. It had been crowded, full of people jostling each other, shouting for attention and demanding their orders be met with alacrity. Yet she had been the only one sitting down to eat. There had been a massive push on the kitchens, a desperation to reach what provisions could be commandeered before the battle hit.

"My god, have I been so blind?" Era felt sick to her stomach. How could she have forgotten everything? How could she have looked at the world and not seen it for what it was? Her eyes had fully recovered by now from the blindness of a few weeks ago, and yet she had just spent the day complaisantly enjoying herself while the world devolved into chaos. And she had thought it all just a busy metropolitan center. If she had felt surprised about it at all, it had been over the sheer size of the area - nothing in her life on Kaelon II could compare to such a major hub of activity.

The child in her arms whimpered with pain, reminding Era she had to keep moving. Her mind raced ahead. That map she'd bought, nevermind its spacial inaccuracies, could hardly be said to have been purchased. The man running the kiosk hadn't even looked at what she was buying, just grunted a price as he packed a bag. And there Era had thought he was just closing shop for the day.

Then there was the tour! An excursion bus usurped by refugees, the automated guide still active and droning on about monuments that Era could never quite catch a glimpse of. Her metaphorical feet were truly laying into her now as pounding in her head came the mocking cry of idiocy unmasked. Everyone had been fleeing the city - that's why she had ended up out here, why all the meticulous homes she had passed had sat dark and silent.

The world around her seemed to lurch as the celestial activity reached a new height. Where was that damn hospital? Why hadn't she kept her communicator on?! She had to get back to the ship! She wasn't any good down here, she didn't belong here. But she couldn't just leave the child. Not out here, in the limits of the suburbs, far from where anyone would find him. Perhaps it had been the usual childhood beating that had landed him in this state, but with tensions running so high, panic in the streets, he might well have been an outlet for fear turned into aggression. Era looked down at him and for a moment saw, not the pointed ears or clipped hair or elongated eyebrows or dusky skin, but a child. Nothing more than a child.

Guilt cascaded over her. It drenched her mind, seeped into her pores, filled her lungs until she was choking on it. She would get the boy to someone, anyone, hospital or not. Then she'd run back to the cemetery, get her communicator, and rejoin her crewmates on the Miranda. That's where she belonged right now. She just had this one duty to dispense first.

"The Inevitable Truth"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas

CO - Second Platoon

Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

****

Marine Commons

USS Galaxy

****

Steven sat on one of the couches that were scattered around the walls of the Commons, as Captain M'Kantu spoke over the intercom. Statements like "the right thing to do" and "take up the sword and shield" echoed through the empty room as he spoke. Steven had heard it all before, well not this exact speech, but many that were similar over the years, and they all boiled down to one inevitable truth. That truth being that we were now at war, and god help those who stand in our way.

Reaching over, he picked up his body armor and slipped it on over his head and shoulders. Ignoring the involuntary wince that escaped his lips, he tightened the straps.

He didn't dislike the Romulans per se, but rather had found them, bar a handful that he had met, to be rude and obnoxious, and would have preferred not to have much contact with them. That being said, he found himself feeling pity for the lost souls down on the planet who found themselves with no means to flee before them as the Hydrans bore down upon their tiny, seemingly insignificant, lives.

Those were the unfortunate ones. Not able to afford to leave ch'Rihan, and yet not able to gather the resources needed to survive the horrors that were soon to behold them.

He slipped on his boots and laced them up, making sure his secondary knife was securely fastened to the inside of his right boot.

And how would Second Platoon hold up under the pressure they were about to face. Would Furji be able to lead them successfully? Would the likes of Lia and Norma be able to step up and become the soldiers that Steven knew they could be? They had had their arses spanked on Cheron and had trained hard since then. This was like the ultimate test for them. To see if they could function in the harshest realities of war and come out victorious.

Steven buckled up the belt containing various munitions and supplies, making sure it was tight enough to stay on, but loose enough to, hopefully, not bother his injured abdomen.

Steven looked about the desolate room. It just felt wrong not to have the guys in here playing and joking around; for Chuckles and Tokka to not be sitting playing yet another game of Tri-D; It was too eerie for words. Even the kitchen sat disused, the lights turned off. It sent a shiver down Steven's spine. What he wouldn't give to have them all back here aboard the ship, having fun and enjoying life.

He went to pick up the rifle and ensure the clip was loaded and ready to go, but took a knee, bowed his head and prepared to do something he hadn't done in many years. He was about to pray!

"You and I don't see eye to eye. You know it and I know it. I've sent too many of your followers up to your gates during my life, and you've, well I don't know if it is retribution, or out of malice or whatever, but you've hurt me and mine. I know you will not interfere in the greater scheme of things with respect to the upcoming battle with the Hydrans. I think I've come to understand at least that much about you. So I come now to you with a small request. A request for protection. Not for me; I await whatever destiny the fates have in store for me. But rather for the woman I love. Don't punish her for so simple a thing as falling for me. Faylin doesn't deserve that from you. All I ask is that you look out for her; I beg this of you."

Not your normal prayer, but when you've had a falling out with the higher power, as Steven had previously, it was what he felt like.

Captain M'Kantu's speech had just finished and the fact that he had just made it signified to Steven that the Enemy was very close now. It wouldn't be long until combat was initiated.

Despite what the medical staff on both the Miranda and the Galaxy had said, Steven wasn't just gonna sit around when the potential for battle was before him. He was a marine and marine's are trained for that very notion, so being Medically unfit for duty wasn't an excuse that he would use to stop him from fighting back against the tripods as Steven begun to call them.

Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, strode purposefully towards the door. As the door opened before him, he paused and turned to take one last look around. "Computer, Lights Off" He called out, before turning and striding from the room.

"One Down Two To Go"

Ensign Faylin McAlister

Jr. Lt. Marcus Dunby (Written by Stuart)

Lt. Eric Manrez (Written by Stuart)

Loction: Planet side

Transportation to the planet had been silent. No one spoke, focusing more on last rites that they individually performed on themselves. Faylin had, in all aspects shut the out side world and her comrades out. Offering only hints of expression coupled with one or two words at a time, she appeared standoffish. Rightly so, the woman did not want to be here. She wanted to be feeling Jonas's warmth around her, acting as a protective shied from the harsh realities of the universe around her.

A chill shot up her spine as she walked with the other men. Faylin was the only female of this little group, and the only green horn. The others had seen battle, not much, but more than the JAG officer had seen. Her battles were held in a court room, not a city street.

The city itself had been long deserted. Scragglers were dotted here and there, concerned about the business that they ran, or relatives that could not leave the city for one reason or another. It was a ghost town, with some ghosts still floating in and out. Was it a foreshadowing of things to come? Faylin did not know that answer yet. She did know, that she felt vulnerable despite the armor and weapons she had been assigned to patrol with. Glancing to her left, she also realized she was physically the smallest of the group. Being a female, the smallest, and the least experienced opened her up for things she did not want to think about.

The Marines had there places set.....some on the outskirts....some within the city. However, that did not stop the Hydrans from using transporters, beaming where ever they wanted to, and blasting the snot out of whom ever attempted to get in their way. That, in itself was very disconcerting. Setting the anxiety even higher within the group of four was knowledge of the fact that, at any moment, they could meet the opposition. At least the Marines were packed into larger groups, with areas that were outstretched and visible for the most part. Who knew what was potentially lurking behind a wall? No one did.

Marcus stood straight and tall; strong and confident. A veritable pillar of strength, and yet, inside, he was seething with anger. A science officer, formerly of the Security division, he had been chosen to come down and assist. But did it have to be Romulus? Of all the species that he had met in his travels, the Romulnas were the last species he wanted to help. He would have taken the Borg or Cardassians or even the damned Ferengi, but the Romulans were at the bottom of the list.

What had they ever done to the Federation... They were just sneaky egotistical offshoots of teh Vulcans who had only ever caused grief for Starfleet, so why were they now here, helping to protect their - until recently - sworn enemies? Marcus had no answer to that. He was a lowly Lieutenant after all and had not influence in the decision making process up above.

Sighing at the thought of fighting to save the Romulans, he continued forward, following the direction their leader was headed.

Eric looked about, eyeing up the terrain ahead of them. The Hydrans were still a little time away if their last piece of communication was anything to go by, but that didn't mean they should be resting on their laurels. Mapping out this small sector of the city would hopefully aid them later on when they did infact arrive.

The alleyway they were currently standing in was small and only the smallest amount of light was present, the sun having not yet reached high enough to broach the roof of the adjoining buildings. So there were plenty of dark spaces along teh walls where potential targets, or later on when the Hydrans arrive, this small unit might hide.

A noise up ahead, round the corner alerted Eric to someone coming. Quickly raising his fist in the air to indicate that the team should freeze, they did, well almost. He stopped, the men stopped, but Eric knew that their newest recruit hadn't as she plowed into the back of him.

Faylin grimmaced as she tried to stop, smacking into the back of the leader. She felt so lost....so alone. The chastizement she felt from the others in the group had made a mark on her spirit. It depressed her somewhat. "Sorry." She mouthed. She at least knew better than to speak it.

The team formed an arrow, with Faylin being the last person on the left. Weapons drawn, they waited patiently to see who would come around the corner, friend or foe. Unfortunatly, it was a group of five rather short, yet ugly foes.

McAlister's jaw dropped. She had never before seen such a creature. This was the race they were in a war against? Faylin felt her adrenaline speed up. Her eyes steeled upon one of them, not sure if it was the leader or not. What do you say in a situation such as this? Stay quiet? Shoot? Run for your life? This was not a diplomatic situation, it was a confrontation. Keeping her head straight forward, her eyes rolled to the right, keeping her focus on the group's leader.

Eric gave the signal for the team to crouch. It was better to give your opponent a smaller target to aim at. More chance of them missing. "No one fire until I do" He whispered to the duo just behind him. Most of the guys were new to such large land based battles and with the limited knowledge of the Hydrans that he had, he always edged on the side of caution. Last time he had faced them there had been a second squadfollowing the first and he wanted to make sure that if there was one this time, that they wouldn't get away.

An itch was forming for Marcus. The enemy was right if front of them and the damned Lieutenant wasn't doing a damn thing about it. Fracken coward! Well an itch is supposed to be scratched right? Wasn't that the way the saying went? And he was gonna scratch it. Standing up, he lined up the first Hydran and fired, taking him down quickly. The others quickly joined in.

Eric was pissed. But he too started firing at the enemy, wounding one and killing another.

McAlister raised her weapon, took site and fired. Watching the Hydran slump was something of an enigma to the officer. Before she left, Steven told her to picture her worse enemy, or someone she did not like, and just shoot. There was a time to turn a blind eye, keep your emotion sequestered, and do your job. She felt a little strange, she judged people for killing, yet, here she was doing it herself. Yes, the situation was changed and it warrented ending a species life....it still did not sit well with her. Focusing back on the task at hand, she viewed Marcus take a shot, wavering over to a wall of a steel like building, and sliding down to the ground. Knitting her eyebrows, she ran over, showing her concern in her face. There were only two of them now in the small team. One down, two to go. As morbid as that sounded, Faylin's mind could not help it. Ripping open his armor, the sight that met her did nothing to ease her fears. Looking over at Eric, she searched his eyes for something that would give her some sort of reasurrance.

"He's dead. Take his ID, and leave the body."

"But...."

"Do what your told!" He spat.

Relectantly, McAlister did so, tucking the only proof of his existance into her inner pocket. She felt that same, chilly shiver she did back in her quarters. Smirking, she couldn't see the Reaper, but he permitted her to feel his prescence, knowing that he was close set her on edge. Shifting from right foot to left, she stood. Awaiting orders from her only line of defense against death. She was his line...and from where he was standing, it didn't look to good.

"We have to find cover.....air strike." Eric stated, pointing upwards.

"Bombs?" She muttered. "God." Where do you find cover when your attack is from above? Anywhere. Put your head between your knees and pray to who or what ever you pray to save you from death. Faylin's breathing accelerated.

Glancing up as she was running behind him, her ears picked up the sensual *whoosh* of Hydran fighters. It was an almost pleasant sound that was attached to the idea of distruction. Soft, yet deadly. A wolf is sheep's clothing. The sound passed over her head, feeling lower this time. Now was not the time to panic, so Faylin swallowed the bile that she felt rising from her stomach as they ducked into a somewhat abandoned building.

Glancing around quickly, Eric saw a sturdy looking building behind them. Not the best, but it should suffice. "We're falling back to there." He point to it for Faylin. "Grab his spare ammo and grenades. You never know when we may need them."

"Rage"

By Writer X

Why has the beast abandoned me? I feel so weak.

I'm frightened. More than I have ever been around the creature/me that walks alongside me, baring its/my teeth, salivating, eyes blazing in hatred.

I've searched everywhere I remembered going with it. The place where I have sometimes opened my eyes and found documents and little else. I went to the place with the pebble-faced things, but they were gone, the place reclaimed by boxes and chairs.

Even the long rooms with the bright lights along their tops and the fuzzy brown grass on the ground with people people people people people people everywhere. The lights lights lights! They burned!

I would hide until the lights went away, or at least until they weren't as bright, and then would search for my companion/myself. The lights still burned, but not as horribly as before.

Faces drift by me. Too many.

Too many too many too many too many too many

I want to scratch all their eyes out.

scratch their eyes out scratch their eyes out scratch their eyes out

I want to rip their faces to pieces.

rip their faces rip their faces rip their faces rip their faces

I want to tear their hearts out of their bodies.

tear their hearts out tear their hearts out tear their hearts out

I want to strangle them all.

Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate

My knuckles are red. I experienced something that makes me ache today and every day. I've been searching how to sate it.

Hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger

When I first made my knuckles red, I had been in the place with the documents. I had promised myself I would face the beast/myself, and find my answers. Who am I? What am I?

Who am i who am i who am i who am i who am i

My body lost control of itself, I think. I couldn't move anything as it threw itself around the room. I saw myself/the beast in a mirror, only to see my knuckles hit it right after. I became distressed help me help me help me I'm so scared or was that the body sharing it with me?

My body stopped moving when the broken reflection crumbled around my hand. Red drops fell from my fingers and pooled on the ground oh god oh god oh god oh god

Why I put it in that place where sounds come out, I don't understand, but a strange feeling from below overcame me.

Hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger

The taste was tart, metallic, satisfying. I bit down, forcing more out, and drank it down as fast as it would come. The pain that came with it was pleasing i'm going to die i'm going to die i'm going to die i'm going to die

There are voices in my head. So many of them. Why won't they stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop

Where is the beast? Where am I? Always it/I took away the noises that made me want to kill things. It/me would hum, whispers kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

Kill them all all all all all all all all all all all all all all

I grab the sides of my head the voices the voices the voices the voices why won't they stop? I shut away the lights and places until my eyes hurt.

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

Stop!

The beast cradles me in its arms. I sleep.

"I ask for the Nations…."

Ensign Faylin McAlister

Lt. Eric Manrez (written by Stuart)

Location: Planetside

Glancing around quickly, Eric saw a sturdy looking building behind them. Not the best, but it should suffice. "We're falling back to there." He point to it for Faylin. "Grab his spare ammo and grenades. You never know when we may need them."

Nodding and moving was the only thing that McAlister could muster to do. Do your job. Do your job. Push all emotion to the back, it's not needed now. Her face started to show her emotional exhaustion as well as the stress she was feeling. She wanted the security of the Galaxy…… The best she could compare her feeling to was a child lost from her mother. The daunting mother, suddenly ripped from the child for a senseless cause. That's what war was….senseless. Let's go out and kill each other to determine who the stronger race is. Complete idiocy in Faylin's opinion.

Gathering the man's ammo and grenades did not grate on her nerves. It was who she was retrieving the items from. His body now cold, all signs of life had drained out of him quickly. She wondered for a split second why the Hydrans just didn't vaporize their enemy. Certainly, it would be less messy than leaving dead bodies laying everywhere. However, maybe is a kind of message? A 'we are superior to you' notion. The clean up would be a reminder of the violence and destruction that the Hydrans were capable of. 'Fear us, we are your god.'

She permitted herself a small sniffle. It was caused by pressure that needed to be released right then and there. Let it all go, and she showed weakness. Let a little go at a time, and it was expected under the circumstances. She wondered how Steven was….what he was doing….and, although pure lunacy, wondered how she could contact him just to hear the voice that gave her comfort and security. Perhaps, part of it would be for his benefit as well as hers….to let him know she wasn't dead………yet.

Phasers drawn, the two covered the door, one on either side. Gathering at the middle, she nodded to him as they solemnly came through. It appeared to be some sort of office building. Cubicles, consoles….everything was neatly arranged. Faylin glanced over at him for some sort of instruction.

After taking a quick look outside, eric allowed himself a glance around the building they were now camped in. The little cubicles complete with chairs, terminals, and assorted nicknacks reminded him of the job he had had previously with the Starfleet Administration department. Admittedly he had been a security guard back then, but this looked much like that office space. Shaking his head at the memories the thought produced, he spotted a sign over what appeared to be a reception desk. It said "hwi rehvie h'rau saith".

Seeing the young woman with him look in the same direction and then back at him quizzically, he translated for her. "It says 'One world in Peace', though I don't know if that is a slogan or the name of whatever this place is or was. Kind of ironic considering why we are here."

"Ironic is the word of the day it seems." She stated with a far off look on her face.

Looking over at Faylin, he couldn't help but notice how young she was. It had been a long time since he had been in combat with someone so young. Most of the people he fought with were nearer to his 40 than what he assumed was mid 20's. She reminded him of his wife - ex-wife, he corrected - back when they had met those many years before. Sighing at the reminders of times past, he shook his head trying to get his focus back on the task at hand.

"You got any family, Faylin?" He asked, softly.

"Used to." She paused to look at him. "They are all dead." Glancing up, she heard another woosh go by. Without warning, the building started to tremble, obviously from an attack at very close range. "What would be the first place they would destroy in your opinion?"

"I don't see them destroying everything. This is the Capital city after all. But key buildings like the Intelligence and governmental buildings would be likely targets. Wouldn't put it past them to destroy cultural and peace endearing buildings though." He replied, his eyes firmly staring out the doorway at the possible approaches to the building, watching for Hydran activity.

"Yeah, something like this one." Her eyes looked around, accessing what would be the safest place to hide. She shook her head...here she was in the middle of war...in a peace building. Sick.

The next tremble was larger, more baritone in nature. Worried, she looked over at Eric. "That was a little close."

Eric nodded. "Perhaps we should find a more secure place to rest. If they hit us, we're mince meat."

She swallowed the extra saliva that found itself in her mouth. Looking left, then right, Faylin located a staircase. Pointing over to the possible cave of concrete steps, McAlister watched as Eric nodded an approval. It was the safest place in the midst of cubicle after cubicle. Walking over strewn paperwork, she glanced at the various pictures of family and friends that sat on various desks. 'Where were they now?' Faylin thought to herself.

Eric tried his best to ignore the photos that lined the desks. All it seemed to do was provoke memories of his children and despite his total love and dedication to the three of them, now wasn't the best time. He followed her under the steps, and took up a position where he could still watch the doorway from his vantage point. No point in letting the enemy walk right up to them unhindered.

She sat on the opposite side of the wall. Eric sat next to the wall, both underneath the stair case. Faylin's gloved hand ran across the rough surface of the floor, attempting to keep herself focused on something else other than the noise that was growing closer than ever.

Eric shuddered at the sounds of bombs hitting buildings nearby. How could anyone have no regard for the safety of women and children? It was insane to say the least. He prayed that no one was hiding in those buildings, and if they were, that they suffered as little as possible.

It is said, that lives can be changed in the blink of an eye. The blink had been attempted to been measured by some tag of time, however, it is epitomizes the quickness that time passes in the truest sense of the world. Faylin and Eric, just two Starfleet security officers that had been thrown into the chaos of races that that warred against each other. Each had history, each had thought that morning when they woke, that they had a future.

Without warning, the sudden rush of expedited air was sucked from Faylin's lungs. Gasping for some sort of breath, she attempted to open her eyes against the feeling of concrete flakes varying in sizes smashing into her body. The weight on one in particular, pinned her middle to the floor. The next, for what she could remember, hit her close to her forehead. One last light moan for help escaped her mouth through baited breath. Silence. Her world went black.

Eric watched, fearing for his life as the ceiling collapsed onto the cubicles nearby, before more and more concrete, from the floors above he surmised, rained down. He felt something slam into him and his whole world went dark. His last thoughts were of his children, safe in their beds at home on Terra.

The aftermath of the building was nothing but scrap. It had been destroyed for the most part, in bits and pieces. Scrapes of building material, papers, smashed mementos, and other miscellaneous items floated from the dusty haze that enveloped the bodies of two security officers as they lay, under the remnants of the wrath of the Hydrans.

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