"Descent"

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Team Infiltration Specialist -- "Raheem al-Hariri"

Small stones rolled beneath Saul's feet as he descended rushed down the slope. A cloud of dust steadily rose behind him. Around him, a dozen of small animals with gray hardened exoskeleton scurried downwards, leaping from one boulder to the other.

He was lucky to find the pack, and it didn't take much to frighten them and make them stampede toward the facility. It masked his own approach, and after tripping a few time he reached the facility's walls.

The short descent wore him down, but there was no time to rest. Once he caught his breath, Saul began to inspect the walls, looking for a way to infiltrate the facility. The long, snake-like structured stretched from one horizon to the other, and seemed impregnable – but Saul knew that nothing ever is. There had to be a weakness.

He began to ran, remaining near the walls as much as he could. Every few seconds, he turned his head to the left, making sure that no patrols moved along the ridge, or on the facility's roof. He knew that the pistol he was carrying was just a formality – the first time he's sighted, he's as good as dead.

His heart was pounding so hard he could actually hear it, without any louder noise to down it in the silence of the night. It calmed down only when, after a long run, Saul finally found the weakness.

The service door was easy to miss in the dark, its thin outline embedded into the wall. Saul knelt next to it, and wiped the sweat off his forward. He broke into buildings dozens of times when he was a kid in Utrecht, but most of them were abandoned, and weren't protected by top of the line Hydran security measures as the facility presumably was.

Without a word, he attached a small device near where he presumed the servo mechanisms moving the door were.

* * *

Saul pressed his back against the wall, and sent the 'Optic bug' ahead of him once more. The miniaturized robot relayed photos from the crossing corridor to a special lens Saul put on his left eye. If anyone could see Saul, he would be intrigued by the fact that the Human now had one brown eye and one blue, but Saul was working very hard to avoid being seen by anyone.

After closely missing several low-ranking Hydrans, and two nasty-looking druids, and without finding anything substantial, he finally found something worth of his attention.

A Gharashk'Mev.

The Junior warlord wasn't alone. He was escorted by several Hydran guards which paced briskly, ignorant of the stalker. They probably had some important destination in mind, and Saul was going to find out what it was.

The bug wasn't equipped with audio receptors, so Saul could barely hear their voices. He followed them stealthily, never getting into direct line of sight, while ensuring that no one surprises him from behind.

They turned, crossed an intersection, then turned again. Saul's PADD mapped the path as he advanced, but he tried to memorize the way as well and the Gharashk'Mev wasn't making it easier. By the time they reached the Hydran scientist that waited for them at the gateway, Saul was already lost and hoped that the PADD won't malfunction.

He found a nearby empty storage room, closed the door behind him, and glanced at the PADD once more. The image was distorted, and Saul didn't dare to amplify the signal and risk being detected. But it was enough.

Saul didn't know if to feel relived, shocked, or scared. The compromise between the three was a nasty Dutch curse.

The gateway opened into a gigantic hall, a cavern which was probably more than ten miles long. The lower part of the semi-artificial cave was made of rock, the higher part metal. Strips of florescentic material illuminated the horrors below with ghastly colors.

At first, Saul was certain that the creatures inside the rows of semi-transparent containers were Borg. However, a closer look with the optic bug disproved that initial fear. Instead, floating in the nearest tank was what Saul presumed to be a Vaden native. Its abdomen was cut open, and every few seconds something flashed inside.

Saul ordered the bug to automatically follow the Gharashk'Mev and his group. Now, they were standing next to a tank containing a three-legged animal, not much different than the Hydrans themselves. Various parts of the animal were replaced by cybernetic devices.

Saul blinked, unbelieving.

This went against everything he knew about the Hydrans. Everything.

The animal inside was not an animal at all. It was a Hydran. A breeder by the looks of it. Unless – and that was a big 'unless' – there was some animal which resembled the breeders so much that it could fool someone who considered himself an expert of Hydrans.

As much as Starfleet Intelligence knew, the third Hydran gender – the Breeders – were considered sacred by the males and the females. They were sub-sentient, and as far as Saul knew none of them were ever encountered on a spaceship. The reason for that was obvious – without the Breeders, the Hydrans could not procreate. Period.

There was no way in hell that the Hydrans became so desperate that they began trying to use their own breeders as war machines.

If that's not enough, the very usage of cybernetics was untypical for the Hydrans, which preferred to rely organic means as the basis of their technology. Instead of fitting a beast with cybernetic enhancements, they would rather bio-engineer that beast into having the same features. And they were mighty good at it.

Still, there it was. Something that looked like a breeder, with implanted metallic breast armor, a visior-like plate replacing his eye stalks, and what looked like a Polaron SMG instead of one of his arms.

Saul waited patiently until the Hydran entourage finished being briefed by the Hydran scientist, and left the hall. Then, he set the bug to keep following them automatically, and sneaked through the gateway. Once he entered the cavern, he rolled behind the nearest tank.

A few clicks on his PADD, and the lens that displayed the images from the bug became a magnifier. He inspected the cavern, making sure that no one was there. Then, he hurried out of his hideout, and began collecting as much evidence as he could.

Oh, the people back at SFI are going to have a field day.

He saw many species, most of them from Federation planets. The other dominating specimens were those of the Vaden natives. Some of them remained intact; Other had cybernetic implants, or severed limbs. Some tanks contained only limbs.

Then, he saw the Deltan.

His eyes were wide open, but you could see that he was conscious. Saul stopped dead on his tracks, not wanting to get into the Deltan's field of vision. No, he decoded. The man was alive, but he was as good as dead. You could play a knight with Branwen, but now was not the time for bold rescue missions.

After he was done collecting the data – visual, fast copies of several computer terminals, everything he could lay his hands on without leaving a trace - he dashed out of the cavern, and began catching up with the Hydrans. They were already several floors above him, but the bug marked their trail and it wasn't hard to follow.

Saul caught up with the group as they reached their next destination. It appeared to be a canopied landing bay for atmospheric shuttles. Once more, Saul found a relatively discrete hideout nearby, and bent on one knee in order to watch the visual output from the optic bug once more.

Nothing could prepare the Galaxy's Tactical chief for what he saw next.

OOC: it's long, it's weird - in other words - nothing new under the sun. Feedback wanted ;)

"Path to evolution - part one

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra - Hydran

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

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra felt a stir in his sleep. He shifted his massive body restlessly, not wanting to wake up from the dream he was having. Finally he had to give up and opened his three eyes with a heavy sigh and rolled out of the bed.

Age and time had caught up with him. He was no longer the warrior he had once been, although he still served the Hydran society to the best of his ability.

Sleep no longer came easy to him, not with the aches and scars from a long life to keep him company. Just as well that he was alone these days. His inability to sleep would have driven his now deceased mate into a fit. B'Tga'Mlak'Ra chuckled while getting himself some water to drink. It had been a good dream, but like most times when his dreams were good he woke up. The vision nearly made him choke on the liquid. His massive body collapsed on the floor in uncontrollable spasms, arms and legs flaying wildly until the seizures calmed down. Heavily he gasped for breath, coughing roughly until he could breathe properly again.

As always the vision was blurry. The Gods never seemed to account for his poor eyesight. Once, about a million years ago, he had found the thought amusing. Now it just gave him a headache and probably shortened his life by a year every single time the Gods decided to show him something. He had never been able to explain just why he could sometimes see things, things that threatened the Hydran people. It was an anomaly he had remained silent about.

There was no need to blacken his family name with the ramblings of a madman.

Instead he reported it as a finding by his sources and as a member of secret police it was never questioned.

He didn't dare to open his eyes just yet even though it would cause him a severe headache. The vision sharpened ever so slightly, revealing different colored lights, muffled voices and.. music. Slowly the vision became inhabited, no longer the empty image it always started as. It took B'Tga'Mlak'Ra a few moments to take a few deep breaths in order to manage to keep his eyes closed. The headache was starting.

The room was poorly lit, which didn't exactly help him, but then he saw it. A figure, sitting at what appeared to be a bar. The city didn't have too many of those, especially not ones designed for visiting species. The man was hairless, at least from what he could see. A pinkskin! A human!

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra growled in the back of his throat. He wasn't fond of humans, but he didn't hate them like some of his brethren did. He let his mental eye linger on the vision a few moments longer until the headache became unbearable.

He staggered towards the replicator, ordering it to make him some painkillers. It had been worth it. The last seconds had shown him the name of the establishment where he could find the stranger. The machine alerted him to the newly created pills laying in front of him. Swallowing them he wondered silently what a human could have done to become important enough to have the Gods display him in a vision? He doubted it was good.

"Path to evolution - part two"

Lt Jebidiah Baile; CO Furies Marine Detachment SFMC
Currently using the alias of "Savage"

------

He knew he should be by the ship. He knew he shouldn't sit in a bar, drinking like there was no tomorrow. He knew he should be out looking for intel about the Hydrans. He knew he should be ready to help the other in case trouble showed its ugly face. He knew a lot of things.

Knowing and doing were two different things. Baile refilled the glass and downed it again. Why the hell had he come here?

Everything had gone the shits on the mission to the Hydran holy grounds and here he was, kneedeep in more shit and up to his hips in Hydrans.

The bartender recognized trouble when he saw it and sitting on the stool in front of him was more trouble than he had ever seen before. Not only did the man seem to try and find oblivion in the bottle, but there was something about him, an air of.. violence. It was the best word he could find for it. At times the man seemed to form a sardonic smile on his face and talk to an invisible companion. Although he didn't understand the words he certainly felt the self-loathing in the man's voice.

Savage. Baile had decided right up front he hated the name. Every letter of it. Hated the way it mocked him, a false name giving a true description. Savage. "Fuck it.." he mumbled to himself, downing another drink. He tapped at the bar for yet another bottle. When the bartender hesitated he growled. "What's the matter Sunshine? My credits not good enough?" as if to demonstrate his point he drew one of his guns and placed it on the bar.

A good bartender knew when it was time to say no and when it was time to keep serving. Now it was the time to keep serving. There was nothing in the strangers body language that indicated he had been joking with the gun. The stranger kept his eyes hidden behind dark goggles, but the bartender had the nagging feeling he should be grateful it was that way.

"That's a good boy.." complemented the bartender with a voice marred from the cheap rootgut he was drinking. It didn't matter it was cheap. It filled its intended purpose. It got him drunk.

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

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra was confused. Not only had the Gods told him where he could find the human, but he knew it was of utmost importance he didn't report it the way he normally did. No, whatever this man had done, the Gods had plans for him. The thought of divine punishment made the Hydran shiver. It had taken him a little while to gather the men he trusted and set the whole thing in motion. No doubt there would be blood flowing this night.

The bar had been almost deserted when the Hydrans had entered it. Five of them. No one messed with the Hydrans. Not unless you wanted your crew jailed, your ship confiscated and yourself thrown in the deepest and darkest pit you could imagine. Conversations fell silent, eyes looked elsewhere as the five walked inside, scanning for the pinkskin they had been instructed to take back with them.

Finding him wasn't hard. He was sitting, or rather leaning over the bar just where they had been told he would be. Chuckling slightly they stopped just behind the drunken figure. The stench of alcohol was quite strong, almost as strong as the breathing was deep. The man was soundly asleep. One of them reached out to grab the human by the neck. A pinkskin was physically no challenge for a Hydran, being both smaller and far more fragile. His hand closed around the human's neck and he hurled the pinkskin to the ground and placed a heavy foot on the back of the prisoner. The Hydran standing next to him barked a short laugh and fired his gun into the head of the pinkskin.

For Baile everything went from black, to pain and then faded to black again.

He woke up with the mother of all headaches. The one from which all headaches sprung and tormented the universe. He felt like he had been run over by.. something. His mind didn't really work well enough yet to come up with a name but it decided that whatever had run him over was big. Very big.

He swallowed a few times, only to find his throat dry. "Great... " he grumbled to himself, but couldn't muster enough temper to get irritated. Instead he succumbed to a feeling of detachment. He had been angry for so long and now that he needed it the most it wasn't there. The marine sighed, trying to determine how long he had been out. Considering he hadn't pissed himself he hadn't been out for too long. Five-six hours tops.

He was chained to the chair he was sitting on, but still he gave the chains a tug, just for test. Naturally there was no way he could break them. Not unless he suddenly became five times stronger and judging from the headache that was as likely to happen as it was for him to become a virgin again.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face. He could feel his body bending itself backwards and front again to get rid of the alcohol. That pissed him off a little. He had worked hard on getting drunk. Now thanks to some gene-splicing cowboy all that work would be for nothing.

A sudden voice broke through his line of thought, if it could even be called thinking. It actually startled Baile as he had not seen or heard the person.

At all. That did just not happen no matter how drunk he was. Others missed noticing persons. Not him. Ever. And still there was someone standing less than three feet in front of him.

"Welcome. Getting you here proved more... of a challenge than first anticipated."

Baile snorted. "I'm heartbroken.."

"No, not yet. But you will be." the voice replied and cut through the drunken haze like Baile's knife cut through spinal cords. It got his attention.

Suddenly he didn't feel drunk at all.

"Great.. another self-absorbed self-proclaimed bad guy... " the marine replied in a far more bored voice than he felt inside. Something inside of him stirred and who ever it was standing in front of him was the reason for it. It tugged at the very edge of his humanity, or what was left of it, trying to find a chink in the armor.

The figure found the comment amusing and sat down. Baile could have sworn there had not been a chair there a second ago. "Isn't that an apt description for you?" it asked. "King of Killers..."

Baile froze. Only one person had ever called him that. Maya. He tried sensing her but there was nothing but an empty void, more cold than the vastness of space. He could swear he felt a cold wind blow across his face when he realised he was alone. "Maya?"

"Hardly. I'm someone not yet killed by you."

The chains rattled low when Baile adjusted his seat slightly. "Then release me and I'll fix that."

The figure sat silently for a few seconds. "No. As tempting as it is I fear that would render all the hard work put into you null and void."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he snarled. But a snarl was the extent of the anger he could muster. Why wouldn't the anger surface?

"All in good time, my friend."

"Trust me, Sparky.. I'm not your friend.."

"No, you're not. I fear you are no ones friend."

"Could you get to the point? This whole brainy bad guy routine is making me contemplate suicide..." Irritation flared up in Baile when the figure laughed.

"I doubt it... you are undoubtedly contemplating a great many number of things, most of which involves violence - but suicide? Allow me to doubt that."

"For fucks sake. Just torture me and get it over with."

The figure looked directly at Baile, its features hidden inside a heavy hooded cloak. "When that time comes I will be more than happy to oblige. But first a trip down memory lane."

Baile sat silent. The figure felt familiar, but on the other hand he knew, just knew deep down that he had never seen the figure before. Ever. Where the hell was Maya when he for once needed her? Pretty fucked up time to go bye-bye.

The mental struggle inside Baile was as easy to sense and feel for the strange figure as raindrops on dry skin. Pain would not be the answer, not yet anyway. The fool had a unique ability to endure pain. Again he thanked his creators for placing a... handler inside the fool's mind. He took one last look at the human in front of him. Weak, but yet immensely deadly. This one was like a dark plague, guaranteed to kill.

Baile was suddenly alone again. The emptiness of the room felt refreshing in comparison with the company he had just been entertained with. He shook his head. "Now you've done it, shit for brains.." he chided himself. "Alright. Think." Despite the risk of the room being bugged he couldn't care less. Just trying to form a coherent line of thought in his mind made that brain of his do somersaults.

"Can't be the Hydrans that nabbed you. They never miss a chance to beat up human." He shook his head again. "No questions about who I am or where I come from. No drugs. No cookies."

Damn headache.

"No threats, no torture."

It was starting to annoy him now. Really annoy him.

"And where the hell is Maya? I swear.. that woman. If I see her agai.." He never got any further as he sank into the darkness again.

"Little worm on a big fraggin hook..."

With Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode, former Captain of the USS GALAXY, and current commanding officer of the Olympic Fleet.

Also appearing: Director. Nowlan Phall, Director of PROJECT: NARNIA at the K57 research and development facility and sundry members of Bhrode's command crew..

Location: The Observation Deck of K-57 (a classified research instillation on the fringes of Federation space in the Beta Quadrant.)

Date: Valentine's Day

Previously: Realizing that the infamous treaty between the Borg and the Federation will soon come to an end, Fleet Admiral John Q Bhrode and his Olympus fleet set sail for the K57 research facility where an unsanctioned prototype of a transwarp gate has been built in the hopes of advanced recon of Borg activities. That prototype is now ready for testing.

****************************************************************************************************
"Nothing is more worthy of the attention of a good general then the endeavor to penetrate the designs of the enemy." - Niccolo Machiavelli

****************************************************************************************************

"Number 2, If you don't make it back, please remember that you will carry with you to the grave my eternal disappointment. More over, I will then endeavor to find an adequate replacement who would posses the same qualities you have exhibited in our time together. That being a chimp in heat or Leo Streely. In closing, upon which time that I then choose to cease living, I will then hunt you down in the hear after and lodge my boot into your ass." Fleet Admiral John Q Bhrode spat as he leaned over the railing of the observation deck, overlooking a giant viewscreen.

Filling it's enormous surface was the image of the transwarp conduit and the USS HERMES, Captained by Commander Lysander Hawksley, Brhode's Centurion second in command, positioned on the outside of it's metallic maw.

"I love you too, Admiral." Commander Hawksley said over the comm. "HERMES in position and standing by for your orders, sir."

To Brhode's right, the holographic form of Commander Von Ernst shimmered slightly. The diminutive redhead was seated in the Captain's chair on Brhode's flagship - the Zeus. The image showed her incline her head ever so slightly.

"Very moving, Admiral. One of your best, almost as good as your speech to one Captain Churchill of the Atlantis when they lost their Cardassian comm officer weeks before you arrived for his transfer." she deadpanned.

"Of coarse it was, Number 1." the chiseled veteran Admiral uttered. Knowing that Von Ernst's amazing analytical mind was currently plotting and counterplotting scenarios and response patterns to any threat that could arise, Bhrode turned his attention to the crew of the K57 who were racing around below him at various stations and computer banks like ants building a hive.

He had resisted the urge to station his own science personnel to assist in the project only after Dr. Phall's borderline begging assurances in the competency of his people.

Still the old man hated to leave the fate of any member of his well oiled crew in the hands of one who lacked the discipline nessicary for perfection and in his experience, very few people not in his command possessed that discipline.

At once the lights dimmed bathing the room in the green hue of the auxiliry lighting system. The floor below was filled with various lights and viewscreens giving the image that Brhode was standing far above a spwarling cityscape.

Director Phall had previously appeared somewhat awkward and sheepish, although not to the extend of the good Dr. Quick. He now had a focus and zeal that mildly amused, if not slightly impressed the Admiral. Phall ordered a call out and one by one each station checked in with the expected 'ready' signal.

On the giant viewscreen, the old man could see the skeletal transwarp gate come to life as if it were awakening from a long slumber.

"Number 2, report!" Bhrode barked into his headset, prepared to order the HERMES out of the vicinity if the energy readings from the conduit were registering harmful in any way.

"Sensors show that we're still in the green, Admiral." Lysander chirped, oblivious to the irony that Bhrode was literally bathed in green light.

"Everyone, stand by and stay sharp" the admiral transmitted to his crew, speaking on a frequency separate from the one Phall was using.

Space inside the gate began to distort, slowly at first, then more violently as space began to fold over itself repeatedly. The gate thrummed with power and as it reached a crescendo, a wormhole appeared in the center of the gate, growing in size until it touched the sides of the many restraining arms that were designed to hold it in shape.

On the floor below, Phall demanded readings from the gate and after a tense few moments, he announced loudly that the gate was activated. On this note the viewscreen split to now include the forward view from the HERMES.

"Whenever you are ready Number 2. And be careful." the Admiral said, letting slip his stern demeanor.

The HERMES moved forward on one quarter impulse and pierced the wormhole. Sensors on both the ship and the station recorded countless readings as the vessel was fully engulfed in the worm hole.

Slowly it creeped for what seemed like 10 to 15 minutes until a dark oval could be seen off of the HERMES' nose.

"Making coarse correction for target." Commander Hawksly announced.

"Copy, Number 2. Number 1 are we clear?" Brhode asked.

"Long range sensors show no contacts, sir. Broadbased variating spectrum screenings show no signs of cloaked vessels." Von Ernst announced. She and the rest of the fleet were responsible for not only guarding the station from anyone that may be lurking about, but they also were poised to strike down anything that came out of the gate that was not broadcasting the appropriate friend or foe code.

"They should be coming up to the mirror any moment" one of the technicians called out. The opposite end of the portal was referred to as the mirror since in theory, one could stand on one end and see outward, but those on the other would see nothing but reflected stars giving the illusion that there was nothing amiss.

This would allow the Federation to watch the Borg, without being seen so long as the surface of the exit point was not breached for a period of about an hour before the gate began to destabilize and needed to be recharged - or at least that was the theory behind the project. Multiple tests had been done to support that theory, however this was the first time an entire ship had been used.

Bhrode gripped the railing tighter. Unknown to Dr. Phall, in the event that the Borg breached the conduit, the Admiral's first order was to collapse it by any means nessicary and at all costs. This included the life of everyone aboard the HERMES. The ship was full of brave men and women who understood that yet still volunteered for the duty.

The second half of the emergency protocols would see Brhode being beamed back to the Zeus and the station reduced to subatomic particles.

"Im getting something" Commander Hawksley called out.

On the screen images slowly began to come into focus. One by one, Borg cubes could be seen winking into the starscape, until the screen was filled with them.

"I'll be damned." Brhode uttered, then ordered data streams and sensors to begin recordings - an unnessicary order as his crew was no doubt doing that even as they spoke, but one he felt compelled to call out.

"I sure hope Phall is right." Lysander broadcast as a Borg cube swooped past his position. "I feel like a little worm on a big fraggin hook right now."

"Path to Evolution - part three"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

---------

A slight wind carrying with it the scents of trees, flowers, plants and animals woke him up. Opening his eyes he saw nothing but the roof of the jungle. Massive branches hiding the surface from the blue sky. Groaning he realised he was laying flat on his back. Then a figure walked into his line of vision, giving him a kick to his leg to get his attention.

"Time to get moving, Flea. Smith wants us to check out grid three niner as soon as possible." the spec-ops soldier cocked his rifle to emphasize his words. "So wake up you sleeping.. I don't think I can find a word to describe that face of yours."

Hendricks?! What the hell? The man was Jonathan Hendricks, member of the Crows. An asshole, but few riflemen could match his guts or skills. More than a little surprised he got up on his feet. "Where the fuck are we?" he groaned. His back was killing him. Looking around he saw his backpack. To his own surprise he held his own rifle in his hands. Shit, he hadn't seen that rifle since the unit got disbanded.

Hendricks looked at him and barked a short laugh. "Well whooptido miss Daisy. What the fuck do you care?"

He watched Hendricks move out into the jungle, not bothering to wait for him. Confused he grabbed the backpack and moved out after the rifleman. It didn't take long for it all to feel... familiar again. But it couldn't be right. It had to be a holodeck or a drug induced hallucination. It had to be something else than the real thing.

As confusing as things felt he knew one thing - he was not walking around in the middle of a jungle with people he was no longer allowed to associate with. Still. Every fibre in his body screamed at him that it was reality. His skin felt the humidity and the mosquitoes. He could smell the scents of the jungle, hell, he could even recognize a few of them. His eyes could see the life a jungle had, the insects, the snakes, spiders, cats, apes and god knew what. Holodecks were good, but they couldn't fool his senses. His gut feeling. Never. But whoever had set this up was good. So it had to be drugs.

He followed Hendricks, who as always was at the ready. The rifleman scanned the area, ready to react to anything that set off the alarms in his mind. Strange. Baile had never really watched Hendricks. To him the rifleman had been in the back, along with the others. He had worked mostly with Saar, the other pointman, but only when the situation called for it. Other than that he had been on his own.

"Hey, Hendricks.."

The rifleman stopped, but didn't stop watching the terrain around them. "What? Want me to hold it for you while you take a piss?"

Baile was about to respond when something occurred to him. The goggles. He still wore them. Ignoring Hendricks for a few seconds he raised his hands towards them. He could feel them tremble. Taking a deep breath to steady them he closed his eyes and lifted the goggles.

"I wouldn't do that..." Hendricks voice warned him.

He opened his eyes and a spear of light was thrust into every nerve in his brain. His entire world exploded into pain. He dropped to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands. He tried screaming but his throat closed up, not releasing more than a croaking whisper. It felt strange. Despite the pain he could hear Hendricks move in closer. It was as if a part of his brain was dedicated to survey his surroundings. He could smell the camouflage-paint on Hendricks and his own face. The sensation confused him. His brain kept feeding him with the information just as it kept hitting him with a hammer on the head.

Hendricks grabbed the goggles and wrestled Bailes arms out of the way long enough to help the pointman to get the goggles back in place. "Stupid ass mofo.. told you.."

"Fuck you." Baile breathed hard. He felt drained of energy.

"Not in this lifetime asshole.. Can you move?"

Baile nodded. Getting up to his feet again took some effort, but after a few seconds his limbs seemed to go back to normal. Out of old habit he checked his rifle and made sure the silencer hadn't been knocked out of alignment.

"Good.. cause you know there is no way in hell I'll carry your sorry ass.."

"There's no way I'd let you touch my sorry ass. Let's move." he responded to Hendricks without thinking. It was definitely all to real. That was the sort of banter he and Hendricks had had.

They walked in silence for a few hours, giving Baile ample time to think, but in the end he reached the same conclusion. Nothing. It was strange. The ship he now served on, the Galaxy, felt.. alien. Dangerous. He never truly relaxed there. But here, in a jungle filled to the brim with armed enemies that wanted nothing more than to kill him he felt at peace.

Hendricks voice interrupted his line of thinking. "Time to work that magic of yours, Flea.. according to intel there's an air defence post about two clicks up. Smith wants you to take a look at it and if possible fuck it up."

"According to intel?"

The rifleman grinned. "Yeah, I know.. it could be the main enemy base for all we know.. I looove intel. What was that old slogan? Intel - Idiot inside?"

"What?"

"Ah fuck you... you know nothing you uneducated mofo."

Baile sighed. Hendricks and his stupid nonsense knowledge. "Shut up. I take it I'll be going in solo?"

"Hell yes.. I'm gonna wait here, sip some Tequila and work on my tan."

"It's dark."

"Stop thinking small."

"Why don't you stop thinking all together, change your diaper and wait for me to return?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it mofo?"

Not bothering to reply Baile dropped the backpack on the ground and took the few items he would need. Making sure he had enough ammo he placed the hat back on the head. He was bald. What the hell? He had never been bald when he had been in the Crows. His mohican had been his trademark. Something was definitely not right.

"Anything wrong?" Hendricks asked him from behind.

"Nah.. go back to sleep."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too." The Crows never said 'good luck'. That was bad luck. So they insulted each other instead.

Baile moved out into the dark jungle. He had never been planetside before with the new eyes. He removed the goggles and the darkness vanished. The world he saw wasn't a cheerful one. It was dulled in colors, blurry at the edges, but he had realised the eyes caught movement. No matter how small. Like a ghost he made his way through the thick bushes and trees. It was almost unnatural. The wind made more noise than him and so far he wasn't really trying to be quiet.

He saw the patrol long before it would start to present a danger to him. For a few seconds he contemplated whether he should take them out or not, but decided not to. It was after all only a recon mission.

No. It wasn't

It wasn't a damn mission at all.

None if it was real.

Someone was messing with his mind. Badly.

He tried to focus on that thought, that it was all an illusion, but it felt like trying to capture the image in a mirror. Inside of him he could feel that strange stirring again, like a restlessness. A part of him wanted, truly and deeply wanted to go after the patrol. Screw risk assessment. He just wanted them dead. Just wanted to test them against him. He swallowed hard, pushing down the urge, writing it off as drug induced. Now was not the time to go haywire.

The moment he saw the site he knew where he was. Operation Nimrod.

"Path to Evolution - part four"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

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

"Took you long enough." Hendricks voice made him spin around. The barrel of his gun aimed directly at Hendricks head.

"What do you want?" This wasn't Hendricks. There was no way in hell or in the rest of the Universe for that matter, that the rifleman could sneak up on Baile. Not in this world. Not in the next world.

He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about the barrel pointing straight at him. "What everyone wants I guess."

"Cut the bullshit unless you want a hole in your head." Baile pressed the trigger ever so slightly activate the lasersight. A red dot appeared on Hendricks forehead.

To his surprise Hendricks just smiled. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Baile frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You. They told me about you, but I had to see with my own eyes and I'm glad I did."

"Let's for the sake of entertainment assume I don't have a clue of what you're talking about and that I've got a really strong desire to shoot you right here, right now." Baile growled. He could almost hear a voice in his head trying to convince him to shoot.

"I'm talking about you of course. More specifically those two glowing orbs of yours."

"My eyes?"

"And they say Marines are dumb..."

"What about them?"

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll stand."

"Smart. Start talking."

The rifleman shrugged. "Operation Nimrod. Remember that? We didn't even have to go in there thanks to you. You cleared the whole place out on your own. Smith was impressed when I told him. Fuck, I was impressed and we both know I hate your guts for always getting the fun jobs."

He remembered. Oh how he did remember.

"Tell me, Flea. How many did you kill? I mean the Ketracel-junkies are though, but you, you just walked in there and started butchering them and their minions. Fuck me. How many?"

"What difference does that make?"

"More than you think. How many?"

"Fuck you!"

"How many?"

"I swear to God. If you don't shut up I'll shoot you, right here, right now."

Hendricks chuckled. "You swear to a lot of things, Flea, but God ain't one of them. He don't listen to the likes of you. HOW MANY?"

Taking a deep breath to calm down Baile realised that was the wrong thing to do. Hendricks hand hit the barrel of his rifle just enough to knock it to the side of his head. The bullet fired by the rifle buried itself in a tree behind them. The muffled sound of the round fired still sounded like thunder in Baile's ears. Less than a second later Hendricks boot impacted on Baile's chest, sending him backwards. He tried to keep his balance but got snagged on a root and fell backwards. Holding onto the rifle would buy Hendricks a year's worth of time, so he dropped it. This opponent was not some puffed up Marine or ARC down in the gym. Hendricks was a Spec-Ops with more scalps than anyone would care to think about. He was just as much of a killing machine as Baile.

Rolling with the blow Baile held his knife in his hand even before he got up on his feet. He crouched down, readying himself for what ever would come. Hendricks was standing in front of him, holding his own knife at the ready.

"Damn Flea.. I bet you slap quicker than an offended woman."

"Come here and find out."

"Don't worry. I will. But answer my question. How many did you kill that night?"

None of them would waste any energy to wave the knife around. It would produce an opening, an opening like that would most likely result in a bad stab or cut. "You know how many. You read the damn mission report."

"Yeah, I did. And you seriously want me to believe that the site was defended by ten people? C'mon Flea.. give me more credit than that..."

"More credit? How about a blade's worth?"

"Tempting, but no. So, how many?"

It had been many. A lot more than ten. It wasn't as if they would go back and do a bodycount. Both he and Smith had known that and Smith didn't really care how or what Baile had to... expidite on a mission as long as the mission got done.

Baile made the first move. Normally he waited for the opponent to strike, but his instincts took over. He wanted to shut Hendricks up, no matter then cost. But his fucking tongue out and hold it in front of him.

It was more a test of Hendricks defenses than anything else, but it quickly escalated to a full blown fight. The knives moved quickly, two whirling blades searching for blood the quench a thirst. Hendricks' blade was the first one to drink. It cut deep into Baile left biceps, nearly cutting the muscle in half.

"Oops.. " Hendricks grinned and took a step back. "You should have someone take a look at it. Looks bad."

It burned, but it was pain. Baile could feel his senses sharpen up. "Not half as bad as you'll look by the time I'm done with you."

"Talk is cheap they say.."

"Then that must make you the cheapest whore in the galaxy." Baile retorted and attacked again. A cut like that slowed him down. He knew it. Hendricks knew it. Hendricks kept working his left side, wearing him out. The blood flowed like a warm embrace down his arm. Soon he would get tired. Very tired. This was a tactics he had used himself against many opponents. Cut them deep and watch them bleed to death.

He couldn't remember Hendricks being so good at knife-fighting. But then again this wasn't real. Baile figured Hendricks could be as good as the best in.. wherever the hell he was.

"How many?"

Again Baile attacked, but this time Hendricks stepped back and knocked away Baile's legs with a sweep-kick. Just like he would have done himself.

"How many?"

Hendricks was on him before he even hit the ground, this time landing a violent kick with nearly mechanical precision on the cut. The pain that exploded in Baile's arm made him drop the knife he held in the other. Gasping for air he covered the wound with the other hand. He could feel the blood between his fingers.

"You know, that really doesn't look good. Damn, that's a lot of blood."

"Path to Evolution - part five"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Lt Jonathan Hendricks, SFMC, "The Crows".

An unnamed jungle during the Dominion Wars

---------

Somehow he knew Hendricks would kick him again, but couldn't stop it. He could feel two fingers break from the sheer force of the impact. But he didn't scream, didn't groan. Not a single sound escaped his lips. Screaming would relieve the pain, but something inside him refused to give him that outlet. Even his own body worked against him.

The rifleman crouched down beside him, but not within harms reach. "You're one tough fucker, Flea. I've only feared two people in my life and that's you and Smith. Smith, well, you know Smith. When he gives you the evil eye you know the shit is gonna hit the fan. But you, you're different. You carry all sorts of shit inside and you want nothing more than to take it out on the rest of the world."

Baile said nothing. What was there to say? Hendricks fist hit him hard on the jaw and he fell to the side, onto his injured arm and broken fingers.

"You scared the shit out of most of us. I think even Smith was a little afraid of you and that man is scared of nothing!" Hendricks gave Baile another punch, this time to the back of his head. "You got all fucked up after Maya died. You were fucked up before you met her, but when she died - man, I swear, you left planet Earth behind you. Look at you! Instincts you do not know. Eyes that are not yours. Senses you can't control. And you know

what? It's gonna get worse."

The third punch wasn't delivered with Hendricks fist. It was delivered by the back of Hendricks knife and it cracked Baile's skull. "Even now you refuse to even whimper. I have no trouble admitting that you're tougher than

me, Flea. Fuck, if tough is being like you then I'll take sissy any day."

He hit Baile on the head again. Still silent. "Smith told me once that you're one of a kind. I understand what he meant now. It's not in here.." the rifleman said and hit Baile on the wounded arm again. "You got a tough body. You can take more beating than anyone I know, but that's not it. It's in there." The butt of the knife hit Baile on the head again. "That. Your mind. It can't be cloned. Can't be copied. Nature fucked up when it came to you."

Hendricks lit a cigarette and sat in silence for a little while, watching Baile on the ground. It amazed him the pointman was still alive. His mind simply refused the body to die. It just wouldn't let the body relax. "Tell me something, Flea.. Have you ever thought about why you're so good at killing? I have. I've seen you fight. In the ring you held back, no, that's not it. You didn't hold back but on the other hand you didn't really fight either. I don't know what kind of lies you told yourself."

Pausing for a second Hendricks looked at Baile and shrugged.

"Maybe you really thought you did fight. But we both know that's not the case. You know how to kill. You can't explain it, but you just do. I've seen

you stab Jems and kill them with one single stab. Not just dead, but dead dead. Like the flick of a switch. Now its alive. Not its not. Tick tock. On.

Off. Just like that. Humanoids. Animals. I've seen you do it. Remember that big fucking cat on.. what was that planet? Never mind.. I'm sure you know which one. None of us had seen something like that before, but you just raised that nasty ass rifle of yours and shot it dead. It didn't take two steps. How the hell did you know it had a soft spot just behind the lungs? Take that out and wham! Dead!"

He cocked an eyebrow at Baile.

"Are you dying on me? Stupid question. Of course not. You won't die for a while yet. Personally I think the Reaper himself is scared of you. Maybe you

know his weak spot as well. That would be something. Killing the reaper. That's irony in a big fat paper bag for you." The rifleman chuckled and leaned back against a tree.

"I think that's why Smith is a little afraid of you. That... gift. Or curse.

Or what ever your melodramatic ass calls it. You know how to kill him and since you do you also know he's not human. I wonder if you could kill one of

those.. what they called? Q? Like I said. I think old Ma Nature fucked up when you where born. Fucking Abomination you are."

Baile felt his mind slip further and further into darkness. The walls he had

erected to keep the darkness away eroded quickly. He wasn't going unconscious.

In fact he had not felt as ready and clear in a long time. No, it was more like taking a look in a mirror and really seeing what looked back. He couldn't explain it. Maybe Hendricks was right. Maybe old Ma Nature fucked up. But something had awaken in him. Something... that was still him and yet

not. It wasn't an alien mind. He wasn't possessed. It was a part of him. It was him. Simple as that. It was the sum of all of his fears.

"Are you listening to me? Hmm.. looks like you are. You know those eyes of yours?"

For the first time Baile looked at his former team member. "What about them?"

"Well, roast me slowly. It speaks.. " Hendricks grinned, but resisted the urge to give Baile a good hearted slap on the bicep. "They're from a cat. Go

figure. A big mean bastard of a cat that not even Mother Nature could love. Best predator to have ever existed. It healed deep wounds faster than you can empty a bottle of vodka, could take more beating than a tank, had a hide you needed a friggin cannon to penetrate. But that's not what made it dangerous. It had the mind of a predator. It lured its prey into ambushes. Hunted them for days cause it enjoyed the smell of fear. A mean S O B. If Ma Nature fucked up when you got born, then she was pissed off as hell and got it all right when she created that bloody kitten. It was so nasty it took evolution to get rid off it. Just like you. Only evolution will get rid of you. I doubt Hell will take you in. I know Heaven won't. They'll just toss you into the pit again, glad to be rid of the problem for a little while."

"Hendricks..." Baile groaned. He felt his mind slip into whatever awaited him. It mixed and fused, a chaotic vortex ending in... what?

"Uh-hu?"

"Thirtythree.."

"Thirtythree.. shit.. that's.. "

It didn't hurt. It just felt strange. Like dissolving and then being put back together again. Not like a transporter. During beaming you weren't aware of what was happening. It just happened. It was like sleeping. You closed your eyes, then opened them, oblivious of the time that had passed. You knew time had passed, but part of the mind didn't. It had been shut down like a machine. But Baile was aware, he was awake. He felt himself be dismantled into the very components that was him and when he was put back together again it was as if certain holes he had not been aware of had been filled. Like having eight fingers only to realise you should be having ten.

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Nameless stranger

Unknown Hydran templeground.

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

When he opened his eyes the jungle was no longer there. He was laying on a cold and hard stone floor. Slowly he closed and opened his hand to test the broken fingers. Nothing. Rolling his shoulders he felt.. nothing. He was tired, yet rested at the same time. Exhausted, yet filled with energy. His boots scraped against the stone, echoing around him. His eyes pierced the utter darkness around him, revealing strange carvings on the walls.

Symbols.

Signs.

He didn't know what they meant, or cared. "Next room in the freak house then.." he mumbled to himself as he got up on his feet again.

Several archways lead to darkened hallways. The smell was stale. No life. In

here he was the only living thing. Slowly he walked towards one of the archways. It didn't really matter which one he would take. This place wouldn't kill him until it had told him what it wanted him to hear.

There was no use trying to fight what was happening. It would happen whether

he approved of it or not.

Suddenly the stranger from the room was back. Dressed in the same cloak as before. He seemed taller, but that was fairly irrelevant. "So which one are you? Ghost of Christmas past, present or future?"

The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Bouncing of the walls. "Neither. If I am a ghost then I am the past, present and future combined."

"I knew you were going to say some vague bullshit like that.."

"Then why ask?"

"I'm the ever optimist.." he replied thick with sarcasm. "So where are we?"

"Some place very old."

"Must be the same place you found your lines..."

The figure stopped mid-step and turned to Baile, but the marine was tired of

the games. A few minutes ago he had been laying in a jungle with his arm cut

open and his skull cracked. It rained on his parade. And to top it off he was definitely sober again. "Alright Mowgli.. drop the Yoda-act.. if there's a point to all of this, then get to it."

The figure seemed untouched by the outburst. "Then think. You've been here before."

"The fuck I have."

"Your mind can't remember it, but your body does. Why not let it remember?"

The room started spinning violently. All he could do was to plant his feet on the ground, hoping not to fall. "What the hell... are you.. doing with.. me.." He had to fight to get the words out. His hand found a wall to support

him on, but soon he had to place the other there as well in order to stop from falling.

"I'm doing nothing"

Gritting his teeth he looked in what he hoped was the direction of the stranger. "The hell... you... aren't.."

"It will stop soon."

And it did. Before Baile could blink the sensation was gone, much like it had never been there. The corridor had vanished, replaced by a much larger chamber, lined with statues. Statues he had seen before.

The stranger watched Baile's face closely. "That's it.." he whispered. "Let your body remember.."

The words went by unnoticed by Baile. He was too concentrated on what he was

seeing. The statues pictured a species he had only limited experience of - Hydrans. Slowly he crossed the stone floor, not sure where to start looking.

His brain did what it could to convince him this was new territory, but the rest of him new better. Unfortunately.

"What is this place?"

"A temple, partially unknown to the Hydrans themselves."

"Partially?" Baile asked while stopping in front of one of the statues.

The stranger walked out to the centre of the chamber, arms folded underneath

the cloak. "They have found the temple, but not all of it. It's mere existence will have a profound effect on certain Hydrans. What the outcome of that will be is no concern of yours."

The last remark was met by a short laughter. "Aww.. now I won't be able to sleep tonight.. "

When the stranger didn't reply Baile turned around to make another remark. Instead the stranger unfolded his arms and raised a finger, motioning for silence. The marine didn't miss the scales and the claw on the finger. It looked old. Very old. "You wanted answers... here they come."

Baile nearly ignored the warning, but a sound made him fall silent. Turning to the sound Baile saw one of the strangest things he had ever seen.

He watched himself enter the chamber.

"Self Realization"

By
Lieutenant Michael Jamson,
Operations Officer
USS Galaxy

The bridge of the USS Galaxy was swarming with crew members as usual. Each officer had his own duties to perform, reports to hand out and tasks to complete. Only one officer froze at his station, staring at the familiar view screen, as the stars passed by one after another. Minutes turned into hours, and still no movement from the crew member at the main operations console. No one noticed the ghost like character, as if he wasn't really there. It was rather odd, that no one approached him during his shift, again, like he didn't exist.

His name was Michael Jamson. An operations officer, 36 years old pushing to 37, and still wearing the rank of a Full Lieutenant. He wasn't a senior officer, or department head, just your average, every day plain Starfleet officer, performing his dull duties and following the so familiar routine. No one said the life of an officer in Starfleet were all fame and glamour, but even on the USS Galaxy, one of the Federation's finest, where rest was for the wicked and adventure seem to ever last, the pace had slowed him down a bit, every now and then.

There were times where the aging operations officer sought excitement whenever he could. Now he preferred the tranquility of the arboretum, or the silence of the botanical gardens. Even the peace and quiet in ten forward at 00:00 hours, or one of the opened jefferies tubes, was better then to mingle around, trying to find an vacant seat, or read a book not being interrupted constantly.

And it's not like the worry officer missed any action during his life and service. He saw and experienced many things, from the battle of Wolf 359 to the Dominion war. He participated in some of the famous battles, like the battle of Ricktor Prime, or the battles of Chin'toka, watching his colleagues and subordinates die and perish as he kept on going. He was promoted swiftly through the ranks and achieved several commendations, including a command of his own. The only difference was...that he didn't leave a mark, but many of them. That eventually brought him nothing but trouble. Losing all of his reputation and rank caused him to shut himself and perform his duties without asking too many question. No more initiatives or excelling beyond what needed to be done. He simply tried not to stick out or excel in too many things, in order not to attract attention. It was a major problem for him, since he was a troublemaker by choice and a true headstrong or persistent type of person.

For quite some time now, he looked back and tried to self criticize himself. Trying to make amends, or improve oneself wasn't easy. He stumbled many things he didn't like, or cared for. Was this his wake up call? the famous crossroad? or a simple middle life crisis. Anyhow, Karyn Dallas must have seen it coming. She already told him, twice, something was going on, but he, as usual, didn't pay attention. She must have sensed it in him. For her, it was a sign of maturity, but him? it was a sign of weakness. He came to a clear understanding, and self realization he was plain mortal human being. A dust particle in the huge, never ending universe.

For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to leave everything behind and embark on a private quest of his own. He had no idea what the future held. He needed to find what he wanted from his life. Would he stay in Starfleet? it was the only life he ever knew, that's what he did, and for the better or worse, he was good at what he did. Actually that depends, on how you looks at things. As far as he knew, he couldn't find his place anymore, and settle down like he did before. He couldn't find that rock to lean on, something that would keep him motivated. This was a new situation for him, now knowing what to do. He always had a clear path laid before him. He always knew what to choose, where to go, and what to do. It was easy for to pick the right road. Not anymore. This crossroad had many ways to turn to, but this time, he didn't know what to choose.

Should he stay, or leave without a trace? the inner conflict didn't let go, and Michael found himself thinking about the issue most of the days, and nights. Concentration proved to be quite challenging, and so was sleeping. A surprising beep, woke the frozen man from his virtual coma. His shift ended with a high pitched sound. Rising slowly and sluggishly from his station, he didn't even looked at the officer replacing him. He simply nodded, and walked away like a zombie towards the turbolifts' doors.

If he knew everything would come to this, he would have stripped away his ranks and pips years ago. How could bear the shame of losing his own ship and crew? that's a question he could never answer. He made it thus far, but wondered again, what would become of him. Continuing as a junior officer wasn't an option. He was far from the captain's chair, or the senior positions. One of the solutions, was to transfer into another ship, a smaller one, an outpost or a station and possibly take the role of a department's head. However, this would keep him away from the Galaxy, the only home on a vessel he ever found, the only place he ever craved to get back to.

Choices, choices...and more choices. If he only had someone to consult with, maybe captain Henderson or M'Kantu. There weren't too many old timers on the Galaxy that could offer him an acceptable point of view or advice. It was a possibility, that he might never go beyond full lieutenant or lieutenant commander. If this was the case, which he slowly accepted, he'd seek life elsewhere and abandon duty, the holy and sacred ideal he worshiped for so many years.

Passing through his quarters, on his way to main operations, Jamson didn't even notice the same old habit. He did so every day, ending a shift, going to his quarters, picking up reports he had made the day earlier, and bringing them back to Operations. He only thought of it, after he left the reports at operations and headed towards the holodeck or one of his 'special' places. Instead of appreciating every precious little moment in his life, he accepted everything as if it was granted. An urge to talk to someone suddenly erupted. A slight panic started growing inside the once brave man. Anxiety started to overlap fear and innocence as Jamson made his ways through the halls of the large galaxy class starship. He felt lost, and finally realized he needed some help.

OOC: This follows directly on from "Being Nosy" and ends Kimberly's time downplanet, sorry it took so long to get out. Back on board for anyone who needs post mission medicals (or counselling) a chat, or just a plain old fashion 'let's get wasted in the bar' JP :) Robert S

"Run Away.!"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer - USS Galaxy

Na'Toha Medical Doctor - Jem'Hadar Colony

Tru'Haran

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stepping back so she was in the doorway Kimberly looked around with some concern as she recalled with extreme clarity not only exactly where she was, but also who she was with and who the figures were walking around on the lower levels with their big guns, "Na'Toha, I think I should be going," she said sweetly, "thanks for the tour, nice talking with ya," she said swiftly, even as Na'Toha shimmered in the dim light and shrouded right before her eyes, "oh yeah, time to go!" she decided, turning she tapped her commbadge as she did so, only to receive the muted chirp that signified no receiver in range.

~ Great! ~

Hearing something, and not being sure exactly what it was she decided that discretion had long since ceased to be the better part of valor and started running, only to find herself rebounding off something invisible after a few steps, unable to stop herself from falling she sprawled on the floor before the Jem'Hadar who dropped his shroud as she collided with him.

~ Go'se! ~ she swore silently as another Jem'Hadar appeared right beside the first, ~ Definitely not good! ~

"Human!" The Jem'Hadar rumbled in a deep basso tone, "you will surrender or die!" he ordered, pointing his rifle at her.

Recalling the various nasty agents the Dominion had a habit of adding to the polaron beam weapons they carried Kimberly simply held up her hands, ~ Some choice! ~ "Okay, okay," she said aloud, ~ Dying really isn't on my list of things to do today. ~

Sitting there she watched as the two massive reptilian creatures conversed in low tones, indicating she should stand they indicated the massive door, "Proceed through the door," one of them ordered.

Standing and doing as ordered Kimberly considered her current predicament, ~ Well I guess Na'Toha wasn't all I thought. ~ she started to think, just as a ruckus erupted behind her.

Instinctively ducking she hit the floor just inside the door and rolled so that the massive wall was between her and whatever was happening, hearing several blasts from the polaron weapons, and several other sounds that reminded her of bone striking bone she waited for a moment for whatever was happening to finish and poked her head around the door frame.

Much to her surprise she saw Na'Toha stood over the two male Jem'Hadar, a hypo in one hand, and a large brick in the other, "It seems there's more going on here than I know about," she admitted, "shall we go before these two are missed?"

"Sounds good," Kimberly agreed, "I take it this isn't one of your standard cloning sections then?"

Helping Kimberly up Na'Toha bent over and picked up the two Polaron rifles, "We only maintain a small cloning facility in the medical complex above. This, this is huge. it's the sort of facility that the Vorta would maintain for troop replenishment, not the sort of thing we'd need," she admitted, offering one of the rifles to Kimberly.

Shaking her head, "No thanks, never had much use for one," she said, indicating the rifle, "shall we go? We can perhaps continue this someplace safer?" she asked as she started back the way they had come, "don't suppose you can shroud me as well as yourself?" she asked as they trotted back up the corridor, away from the still open door.

"You're too big," Na'Toha explained simply as they left, scanning the corridor around them as they worked up to a run.

"First time I've been told that!" Kimberly admitted as she tried her commbadge again, "usually the doc's tell me I need to put on weight!" she said slightly sarcastically. Getting a response from her badge she tapped the Jem'Hadar on her back, "Woah there!"

"Sorry?"

"Terran colloquialism," Kimberly replied simply, tapping her communicator, "Burton to Galaxy, two to beam up," she ordered, "let's sort this out topside shall we?"

"Agreed!"

"Eve of Destruction" Part 1

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Team Infiltration Specialist -- "Raheem al-Hariri"

Soundtrack : Sounds Like a Melody / Alphaville

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

Eve stood firm like an oak, her arms folded in defiance. Defiance against the universe, against her past, against the ugly and supposedly high-ranked Hydran in front of her. If she was frightened by her vulnerable position – being in a Hydran top-secret facility surrounded by armed enemies of her people without backup and without any way to escape in case the Hydrans change their mind – it wasn't visible.

"Did you find our merchandise satisfactory?", She inquired simply.

The Hydran Gharashk'Mev made some obscene facial expression. Even assumed that it meant 'yes'.

"Good, in that case you can pay us the rest using these accounts and contact points, just as was settled with the Fox.", she concluded, offering a small hand-held computer to one of the Hydran guards. She then faced the Hydran Gharashk'Mev one last time. "Until next shipment, then."

"Until next shipment.", The Hydran's chatter translated through the UT.

Neither of them wished each other good luck, nor shook the other's hand. This was business, and it didn't require friendship or politeness. Only supply and demand. The Hydrans needed several cybernetic parts, since they were behind on cybernetic technology, and the Bental family could supply these parts since they had contact with some of the top robotic manufacturers of the Alpha Quadrant. It was that simple.

She turned their back on the Hydran delegation and headed toward her shuttle. Her stride was dignified, confident. She soon vanished inside the vessel, and the Hydrans turned to leave.

Saul took advantage of that precise moment to sneak to the shuttle. He burst forward, his body bent so that his head won't appear above the crates that kept him hidden from the Hydrans.

The door closed behind the Hydrans, and the shuttle began warming up. An ominous sound suggested that its rear cargo doors were about to close. Saul swiftly crossed the short distance between the crates and the doors, and leaped inside just before they closed.

He crouched, and a nasty grin appeared on his face as he realized that his extended experience as a stowaway during his voyage from Utrecht III to earth was finally paying off.

* * *

The face of the junior warlord appeared on the main view screen of the Olor 50 command center.

"Follow the vessel departing from launch pad, and ensure that it follows the flight plan exactly.", He instructed.

"Eliminate?", The facility's commander, a Hydran female, inquired simply.

"No. It's the Human merchant. I just want to make sure that she doesn't try anything."

"We are taking a great risk dealing with the pinkskins.", The facility commander told him. It wasn't common for her to express her concerns, especially in front of the Gharashk'Mev. He was her superior, not her comrade. She didn't want him to think of her weak.

"You need to understand their attitude. It's not easy with aliens, especially the pinkskins, but this one has no loyalty to her government."

The facility commander said nothing. The difference between Pinkskins and her own people seemed too wide to bridge. But the warlords probably spent a long time considering the possible implications of dealing with the Pinkskins.

"The pathetic pinkskin will bring the destruction of her people with her own hands.", The Gharashk'Mev added when he saw that the facility commander became silent.

"Perhaps we should make her an honorary citizen of the Sovereign monarchy after the Federation crumbles.", The facility commander retorted.

* * *

Saul slowly followed the distance between the shuttle and Olor 50 as displayed on his PADD's navigation system. He didn't want to start too early, and risk making the Hydrans think that something is wrong with the shuttle.

Five hundred meters. Six hundred meters.

Chava.

Chava was here.

Why Chava of all the people associated with his family?

Saul glanced upward and frowned. If god was looking, he could stop snickering and frown back if he wanted to.

Twenty three hundred meters, twenty four hundred meters.

That's enough. Showtime.

Saul drew the pistol out of its holster, and loaded it.

He exited the cargo bay, and sneaked into the short corridor between the cargo bay and the pilots' cabin. His PADD told him that there was one life form in the living quarters, and one in the cabin. He could see the one in the cabin – only brown curls could be seen from where Saul was standing, but it was enough.

He knew these curls.

He gently pressed the door panel to the living quarters, and rushed inside. A man was standing there, apparently making dinner. The beam from Saul's pistol hit his abdomen just as he turned around, and he fell on the floor.

Saul crouched next to the man, and began setting his pistol to maximum stun.

"Saul??"

"Roni. You shouldn't have looked.", Saul said, and changed the setting to maximum kill. Roni was a distant friend, from back home. He was a short, cheerful fellow. Saul enjoyed playing with him because he was one of those who didn't cheat THAT often.

And now he was going to die.

Roni pleaded for his life one final time as Saul recalibrated his pistol to maximum, and vaporized him. He could feel the heat from the exothermic reaction that disintegrated the man who once considered Saul his friend to molecules and atoms.

"Roni!", came Chava's voice from outside. Saul's eyes widened. He failed with Roni, and gave his friend a chance to look at his face. He couldn't afford anyone to know that he was on Vaden. He mustn't repeat the mistake with Chava.

Chava broke into the room, distressed. She didn't notice that Saul was crouched behind one of the two beds occupying the room. Her eyes met the stain that was left on the shuttle's floor where Roni previous lie a split second before the stunning beam hit her and sent her to a forced slumber.

Saul rose slowly from behind the bed, beads of sweat dripping on the folded blanket. He bent over Chava's motionless body, and patted a brown curl oh-so-gently.

The sensation reminded him of Nara .

Then, he detached a small Hypospray from his suit, and pressed it against the bare blue skin of Chava's neck.

* * *

"Disreputable Merchant to Miserable Psychologist.", Saul spoke into his communicator, after he was done familiarizing himself with the controls of the shuttle. "We got a discount. I repeat, we got a discount. I'm bringing a shuttle over the coordinates I'm about to transmit, meet me there…"

Saul grinned slyly at Miramon's response.

Archiver's Note: I hate HTML mail with a passion. I couldn't kill the word wrap without destroying the overall formatting of this post. My apologies to you the reader for having to read this outside the consistent format of the other posts.

Ensign Artim - Medical Officer
and
Ensign Zavian - Medical Officer

with

khre'Arrain Valera t'Serov - Science Officer

"Strange Partnerships"

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

<<Warbird Iaavfi >>

Artim had never been on a Romulan ship before. Well, at least not one
of their warbirds. Valera had picked him up in her personal shuttle before,
but that wasn't anything like this. It was hardly a surprise that Valera, or
her commander, had sent a gruff looking security guard to escort them to her
lab. Artim didn't say anything, just nodded and followed him carrying his
seemingly massive amount of gear. As he walked down the colorful, at least
compared to the Galaxy's, corridors, the Miran looked back at Zavian and
said,

"You okay back there? "

"I am more welcome here than you are," Zavian pointed out, exposing
his teeth in a wide grin. He was partially correct. Rather than a warm
greeting, the Romulan crew seemed more inclined to ignore him completely.
Whether this was because they were used to the presence of a member of his
race, or because they simply didn't see him as worth acknowledging was
unclear.

Zavian was right about that, as the usual quizzical stares he got on
most ships were replaced by near glares from the Romulans. Generally he
didn't get those until after he did something to piss someone off. Perhaps
it wasn't him they were glaring at as much as the insignia on his breast. No
matter, at least Valera still cared enough.

After a couple of turns and short ride in a turbolift, they arrived
in the lab.

"khre'Arrain t'Serov, your...guests are here.", the security guard
said announcing their arrival.

"Good, now leave. We have much work to do." Valera said coarsely not
even looking at the security man, her attention locked on to a console, some
test in progress.

The guard left, saying nothing, apparantly knowing better. Artim
didn't say anything as Valera kept staring. He began to unpack his things as
he was startled by a sudden shout.

"DAMN!" She screamed as she slammed her fist on the console. "Oh,
sorry Artim, it took an hour to set that up, but our blood samples aren't
sufficient."

"Then these should help", Artim replied as he got out the vials that
Zev had nabbed from the lab "Presents from Mr. Raynor. I told you he was
good."

Valera grinned widely as she took the vials and handed them to an
unnamed assistant who began processing them. "Remind me never to
underestimate a human spy again. And hello Zavian, we've not met in person,
but I was part of the comittee that selected you for your...assignment."

Zavain lowered his head slightly to show his respect. "Yes, I recognized
your name." With the greetings over, he glanced around the room curiously.
"What is our goal here? I was unclear on exactly what we are trying to
accomplish."

"To figure out how exactly these Jem'hadar changed." Valera replied
grinning at Artim as he handed over the hair sample.

"And who did it." Artim added. "That much I think is established,
someone re-engineered them. Too many mutations for this to all have happened
naturally even with the Jem'hadar's short generational time."

"Agreed. But our initial tests showed that it may be better to say
de-engineered. There's more things missing from the DNA then things have
been added. Even the females, the Jem'hadar always had them naturally, but
the Founders must have suppressed that. Probably to ensure a lack of
breeding." Valera seemed to have done more work then she had let on about.
No surprise there.

"Yes, of course," Zavian chimed in. "That makes perfect sense. Male have
both X and Y chromosomes, so it stands to reason that a talented enough
engineer could combine two X to create a female." He walked slowly around
the room as he spoke, holding his hands close to his chest. "If these
Jem'Hadar had all been originally female, then the male would be gone
forever."

"Or vice versa. Using controlled breeding through cloning, one could in
essence ensure all those created were male. Either that or terminate all
female cells.", Artim added as he plopped down by a sample analyzer that one
of Valera's assistance had placed one of the blood sample analyzer.

"But why? Wait a second." Valera said in a half puzzled tone as she
pulled out a PADD. "Goran'agar said all their females don't have any need
for White. If there's something on the male chromosome that makes them
easier to addict, then it would make sense."

"But Goran'agar and some of the males don't need white either", replied
the Miran, still somewhat confused at what he was seeing on the screen in
front of him.

Zavian sneaked up behind Artim and glanced over the shorter doctor's
shoulder. It was true that there wasn't much information available, but if
they were prudent, Zavian was confident they'd be able to come up with the
answer. He climbed onto a nearby chair, squatting on it, rather than
sitting, with his toes curled over the edge. With two fingers, he began
poking at the control panel.

"Is there available the genetic structure of a typical Jem'Hadar?" He
asked, craining his neck to look at Valera. "I am not very familiar with the
species."

Valera punched up a few commands and three more DNA patterns appeared on
the screen.
"The one you were looking at is a male from the planet. The one on the top
was the data we had from the original Jem'hadar. The third one is
Goran'agar's data, he was the first Jem'hadar that we know of that didn't
need white. The last one is a female from the planet. I've had the computer
running a comparison."

"So did I, before I came." Artim said staring at the screen. He wondered
how Valera had gotten access to Goran'agar's DNA. He of course had called up
the information Dr. Bashir had relayed to Starfleet Medical. Then again,
during the war there were Tal'shiar types all over the place, probably they
got em.

"Ya know Valera, I'd been noticing alot of sequences that look like
introns in the original sequences that appear to be active in the other
samples, especially the females. I also noticed before many of them a common
non-coding sequence."

"Really? That's odd, I saw some of the same things when I ran my first
test. But what could these genes be?" It may have sounded like a question,
but knowing Valera like he did she already had a pretty good idea what they
were.

"Respiration enzymes mostly, probably the genes that coded for the enzymes
in white, but that's not what really concerns me. Its these non-coding
sequences, I've seen them somewhere before. And they are near other new
genes too, ones I can't identify as readily. Where have I seen these
before?" Artim said as he tapped the edge of the console repeatedly. He knew
the sequences were the product of engineering, a biproduct of a virus used
to insert the active genes or remove others. They were always the same and
always came just before and after a coding sequence. But who...

" Oh, hell!" They both said at the same time as they looked at each other
with varying looks of shock on their faces.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected to find" Artim said as he started to
pack up his gear. "I have to get back, now."

"And I need to speak to the Riov. It all makes sense now, the question is
why." Valera replied. "It was a pleasure Artim."

"Indeed Valera, hopefully we'll be able to do it again sometime. Zavain,
hate to cut this short, but we need to get back to the Galaxy, now."

As soon as they materialized, before even stepping off the transporter pad,
Artim tapped his commbadge,

"Artim to bridge, I need to speak with Captain Henderson or Commander
Kol...now."

"Lost In The Woods" pt IV

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Teyri Jen

With Flight Officer Padma Xiaz
Pilot Anna Lewis

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

Twelve hours later...

They'd seen one of the Galaxy's other fighters fly overhead once already. Unfortunately, the foliage on this planet played merry hell with sensors looking down from above, and the pilot had flown right on by. Corran knew Kettch and Angel would be running a proper search pattern, but that wouldn't do them a damn bit of good if there wasn't any visual confirmation.

And they had no flares.

It also wasn't a good sign that they hadn't seen wreckage from the runabout, either from the the cabin's crash site, or the aft hold's. The nacelles had also separated during the crash, and Corran and his group had already come across them once.

They'd also been shot at on two occasions, once by Hydrans, and once by Jem'Hadar. The Major wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, but it didn't seem to bode well for him and his pilots - or the Galaxy, up in orbit. The only plus side, so far, was that no *Romulans* had shot at them, but they hated the Hydrans pretty fiercely.

Then again, not too long ago, they hadn't been real fond of the Federation, either.

They were coming up now on where his tricorder had indicated earlier that the aft hold of the shuttle was. Communicators were still nonfunctional, so they were going to have to look for visual evidence regarding O'Conner and Lansky - and hope the Jems hadn't gotten here first.

As they entered the new clearing made by the runabout's crash, Corran realized all-too-abruptly that hope was in vain. He had only seconds of warning as four Jem Hadar soldiers unshrouded in front of him and began firing.

"DOWN!" he yelled at the pilots, diving headfirst into the nearby foliage for cover.

Anna instinctively dove behind a fallen tree, as much frightened by the Major's voice as by the deshrouding Jem'Hadar. She hadn't seen the Dominion War, thankfully, but many of her slightly older friends had. At the time, their stories about the terrible, detached killing machines of the Dominion had seemed exaggerated. But she believed them now.

Jen hit a bush and rolled through it, scrambling to find something to cover here. Something whizzed right by her, and she smelled burning foliage. She pulled her phaser up and turned, facing the danger, searching for a shot. Knowing that she didn't have unlimited power cells for the phaser, she took as much time as she dared, sighting along the weapon until she was sure she had a good shot, then squeezed the trigger. It hit one of the Jems in the arm. He practically yelped - as much as a Jem Hadar did yelp - and shook his arm, dropping the weapon. A moment later, a shot from someone else struck home, and he was out of the fight.

She breathed a sigh of relief as more shots began to streak across towards them. One down, more to go. At least it was one less shooting at them. Once again, she took aim, and began to fire. She was only getting one shot off for each two or three the both Corran and Pad managed to, but still...she did, at least, nail two of them.

They managed to get the drop on the initial squad of four, but their quick reactions had easily explained that. These Jem Hadar weren't as fierce as the ones back in the war had been, either - maybe settling into a normal society really had done something for their more ..agressive tendencies.

That however, wasn't going to help them against the even dozen Hydrans that had now emerged from the foliage.

Corran didn't even stop to think this time, he just let his instincts take over. Something fired up from deep inside him, and all around him, everything seemed to slow. It was almost as though he was walking through a dream - he was only dimly aware of his finger pressing the firing stud on his rifle.

One, two, three lances of deadly light emitted from the end of his wapon.

One, two, three Hydrans fell, a neat hold burned through the middle of their heads.

The rifle tracked left, to the next group.

Four, five, six.

Again.

Seven, eight, nine.

The rifle beeped, the power pack was empty. The Trill Major didn't miss a beat as he drew the appropriated Jem'Hadar hand pistol from his hip, and set his sights on the three remaining Hydrans.

Ten, eleven, twelve.

As the last one dropped, the strange - and strangely familiar - feeling began to evaporate from Rex's mind. The clearing was quiet now, there were no sounds from wildlife. Corran stood mutely for a moment, observing the carnage he'd wrought, and then stared at his hand, as though it was some alien thing that had somehow attatched itself to his body.

If he'd looked up, he'd have noticed his pilots were staring, too.

Jen watched in amazement, her almost useless phaser held loosely at her side. Once Corran had begun shooting at the Hydrans, sh4e had gotten no more then two shots off, and they had been too late. The Hydrans she'd been aiming at had already been taken out by the major.

'Maybe he could give me some pointers to improve my shot,' Jen thought randomly, taking in the look of shock and bewilderment on Corran's face, flashing quickly and then smoothing away to a calm mask.

'On second thought, maybe not,' was the thought that came shortly after that.

Jen waited for a couple of moments, but there was no more movement, either from their side, or the enemies. She stood up, holstering her phaser. "Nice shooting," she called out quietly to Rex, still keeping an eye out on the direction that the Hydrans had come from. She would provide them with a nice little target if they showed up right now, but it seemed quiet. Still.

Jen stepped out towards the dead bodies, cautiously, waiting for one of them to make a move. When nothing happened, she reached out carefully and snagged a weapon away from a Hydran, holding it at attention in case any of them were playing possum.

When still nothing happened, she reached down and grabbed two more, loading up for bear - or in this case, Hydran and Jem' Hadar.

"Yeah." Rex replied, his voice, hollow. The expression quickly faded as he saw Jen looking at him inquisitively, and he noted Pad and Anna were coming out of their cover. "Must have been all that training with Krieghoff." he said, unconvincingly.

"Must have been." she said, looking at him oddly for a moment.

The sound of approaching fighters, drawn by the flashes of weapons fire, forestalled any further commentary on what had happened. Four fighters - Vanguards - came flying overhead, and at such close range, Corran's commbadge crackled to life with static.

["Vanguard Three to leader. Major, are you there?"

"We're here!" he yelled, laughing. "Come down and pick us up. Has anyone found O'Conner and Tate?"

["We've already got them, sir. Hold tight, and we'll pick you up."] Three replied, and toggled communications to the Galaxy. ["Vanguard Three to Galaxy. We've found them! I repeat, we've found them!"

Relief flooded him at the news that his other two pilots were fine, and Corran decided that those new Rogues his pilots were flying had never looked so beautiful. Figuring out what had happened here today.. well, that could wait. Right now, he had somewhere - someone - to go home to.

As for the rest? He had time.

"The Quiet Ones"

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Ella Grey

When everything had been said and done, with the reports and debriefings completed, and the Galaxy had pulled out of orbit... it hadn't taken Corran and Ella long to get back to what they'd been doing before they were so rudely interrupted by the planet full of Jem Hadar.

Not to mention the effect that evil mad scientist experiments, crashing runabouts, and insane jungle rescue missions had on one's sex life.

Still, they lay in her quarters - she had a larger bed, despite Corran's higher rank - basking in the afterglow. Ella's head was nestled on Corrans chest, and he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It was... nice. That was the best way Corran could think of to describe it, just laying there and being with her.

~It's not gonna last, kid.~ came the condemning mental tone of his last host, Vorrin.

~Just because you weren't capable of a relationship for more than forty-five minutes doesn't mean I'm not, Old Man, so shut your hole.~ Corran thought back darkly.

She traced his shoulder blade with her fingers. "Should I leave you two alone?"

"Hmmn?" he said aloud, looking down at the top of her head in clear surprise. "How'd you know I was arguing with Vorrin?"

Ella looked up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "We just made love, Corran. Who else would be talking to you?"

"Old Lecher." She added with a laugh and then laid her head back down on his shoulder.

"Allright, fair enough." he admitted. "And yes, yes he is. It's all his fault, really. They tell you how much your personality changes when you get joined, but you're never really ready for it."

"But where's the fun in that?" Ella said with a smile. "Knowing how you'll change?"

"Well, it's all dependent on the symbiont." Corran replied. "For example, I used to be almost painfully shy. Not to mention agoraphobic."

She looked up in surprise.

He laughed at the expression of her shock. "Oh yeah. When I went to Earth to go to MIT, it was the first time I'd been in space. I couldn't even look out the viewports."

"Oh, you poor thing." Ella pouted, moving to kiss him on the lips. That went on for some time until she pulled back with a grin. "Thank God for me you got over the shyness."

"Absolutely." he grinned back. "Otherwise the galaxy-at-large would have been deprived of my inimitable genius."

"And the end of the world as we know it would have ensued." Ella laughed.

"So glad you understand."he chuckled. "It's funny, really - neither Corran nor Rex expected how our joining would turn out. I mean, I was on track for a nice, boring safe career as a computer programmer before the notice that an appropriate symbiote had become available for me. I'd just finished getting my Doctorate."

He frowned for a moment. "I think they were hoping I'd be a .. moderating influence on Rex."

If she was laughing before she started cackling now. "Goes to show what they know. The shy ones are always the ones you have to look out for."

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer

"Even Memories Intertwine"

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

Timeframe: A week after then end of "Descent"

<<Holodeck 2, Program Artim Alpha 4 - Shivar Estate, Mira, Circa 1965>>

Why was he here again? If one really thought about it one would think that constantly coming 'home' to a place long destroyed in a traumatic experience would be a strange place to come when one wanted to be calm. But ever since he took Ember and Brian here, he actually found running the program somewhat theraputic. Maybe reminding him of what he loved and lost in this manner made him think it wasn't his fault. This time, it wasn't helping.

The young looking but wise beyond his apparant years doctor sat in a room that he thought used to be his at one point. It definatly looked like the decor a normal 5 year old would like, but still well appointed. Bright colors, toys that could be identified as such no matter what world they came from and what drew him here in the first place, an excellent view of the garden below in full bloom and the mountains in the distance. It was as beautiful as any room he'd lived in on any planet, ship, station, or anywhere else for that matter. And he'd been to some beautiful places. Too bad Valera never got to see it.

Part of the reason he'd hoped Captain Henderson would let the two of them work on the Galaxy was because he wanted to show her all this. In fact it was meeting her that made him want to make this program. She made him think, for once, that his past is not something he should be afraid of. She had the same experience as a young woman, probably part of why they were attracted to each other. There was one time they talked about forgetting their respective carreers and moving to Mira to rebuild this house and start a family. Well, Artim couldn't exactly do that on his own, but they were geneticists, part of the challenge would have been to figure that out on their own. Valera, it seemed, was quite interested in the challenge. Life, it seemed, had a different plan in mind.

Like then, Valera and Artim's work had pulled them apart again. That's what had driven the Miran to come here again and again. He would simply lay on his old bed, head on his hands, and think. Sometimes he'd go out in the garden to his favorite spot there. This room though really created the proper environment for what he needed to think about. Did he really want to stay in Starfleet? He could very easily find a way into Romulan space as a civilian, he had before. He could track down Valera and do what they'd meant to do. She might even set her carreer aside for him, she almost had once. He didn't have to lose the love of his life the way he'd lost this room. This time he had control. Or did he?

Perhaps he was never meant to love Valera. Hell, he had a hard time admitting it to himself, much less to her. They always avoided the subject. They'd gotten close and then evaded it as if it were a plasma torpedo threatening to destroy them. Artim had no idea if Valera fealt the same way about him. Why would she anyway? Artim was a man trapped in a kids body, what could he offer her? And she was Romulan to boot!

"Get over it Artim" he said to noone in particular "You'll never see her again anyway so its not an issue. Too much to do here."

It didn't help...it never did.

"Passing of Information"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineering
Lt. (jg) Cora Dobyrin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Ensign Zev Raynor, Intelligence Officer

***Corridors of the USS Galaxy***

Nara walked down the corridor at a brisk pace, holding the PADD 8-Ball had found on the corpse in the Engineering complex on the surreal Jem'Hadar Twilight Zone of a planet. She didn't feel any urgency other than the fact it was highly interesting and she wanted to see what the Intelligence Office thought of it.

Her speed was assisted by the fact that she was well acquainted with the location she was heading. Thanks to Saul once worked there.

Her brisk pace ended abruptly only when she walked into the door and looked about for who she needed to talk to. Also she was familiar with the official or unofficial protocol that you don't move beyond just inside the door in this area. You wait for someone to come to you, lest you get your head bit off for wandering in too far. This was an intelligence office. Need to know basis. As far as they were concerned no one needed to know anything.

After a moment, a man came toward her. A familiar man. The strange, funny man she met in 10-forward. She was almost surprised to see him in a professional capacity. She smiled at him.

Raynor was slightly uncomfortable... something to do with being cramped in a vent for a the better part of an hour and then running to the important people that had to know the info he had just recorded somehow stressed him out a bit, still he managed a smile.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Nara held out the PADD, "Something odd. Lt. Hunter found this on the body of a dead man we happened upon on the surface. It contains a manifest list of a Federation vessel, medical records on some of the key officers."

"Which vessel? And if you say ours I am so going to kick myself..." Raynor said with a sarcastic tone.

Nara shook her head, "Not ours. I didn't get a chance to look at it. All what I know is what Lt. Hunter summarized to me."

"Alrightly... anything else other than that?" Raynor asked.

"Well, and the fact they have a room with lots of technology and using it for something other than what I guess it should be used for. This was an Engineering Complex and they were mad that we were in that room. When they did leave us alone, it was in a room with a dead man." Nara nodded her head at the PADD, which brings us back to that."

"Not on the tour I take it?" Raynor joked before saying. "We're going to have to report this to one of the big ugly boss men. Either mine or that Klingon guy, that I have yet to meet and piss off in 5 second, or the Cap'n."

Nara looked at him oddly and before she could respond, another person walked over.

Cora exited her office to find Lt Roswell standing there. "What can I do for you?" It looked like the engineer had something on her mind which led to a valid reason for seeking out Galaxy's Intelligence staff. Dobyrin also noticed that Raynor was with her.

Nara nodded at the PADD that Raynor held, "I've come to place this in your care for whatever you can get from it. Things in the Engineering Complex are very suspicious."

"Care to elaborate on that? Complex as in how Lieutenant?" she inquired. "Ensign Raynor what's your take on the info on this PADD that I haven't had a chance to look at yet."

Nara tried not to laugh, "The Engineering Complex is the building. They are using technology for strange things and a dead man had this PADD on him. A PADD that contains Federation information and DNA data from several prominent officers."

Raynor had about 5 seconds come up with something, "I'm only about 15 seconds ahead of you boss." Buying for time before going into a small rant. "The question I'm asking is how old is the medical report ... if it dates back to the Dominion War, I wouldn't be too concerned that they have it, if its more recent, than yes there is cause for concern... the engineering complex, while I hate to be overly optimistic, they could easily be just experimenting with new technologies that they believe they might need later on down the road. I would think defense would be one of the primary concerns of these Jem'Hadar because regardless of whatever political ties they make with us, the Romulans, the Hydrans, they still have the Dominion gunning after them if they ever find out. Even if the Dominion doesn't act on it directly... once a loyal Jem'Hadar finds out the hunt will be on."

Raynor took a breathe and let his words hang in the air for a second before continuing, "I'm not going to say that we can trust the Jem'Hadar at their word, yet, but we can definitely... trust them to do whatever they feel is necessary to uphold the ideal that Jem'Hadar can be free from the Dominion. The only thing I don't really like is the dead guy. Chances say that he died recently if he had a padd in his hand."

Raynor ran a quick run through what he knew in his head, and gave the Chief is pre-analysis. "If I had to guess, the dead guy is a Deep Space 5 Dithparu runner. Given the probability that he died recently, and the fact that I didn't know about this until now. I would of known if he died after our arrival. But that's just my thoughts... What’s the call boss?"

Nara nodded, "His death was recent, yes. But he died due to a hole in the head. And, if I may say, I did say we found the PADD on a dead man the moment you asked me what was going on." She tried to gather all he was saying and looked at Cora for a response.

"This is a matter for Intel to investigate further," her attention shifted from Roswell to Raynor. "What were you doing discussing this in the foyer? You know better, Ensign."

"If you want the list, it starts off with I'm a moron, has I just got here in the middle, and finishes with, no else is around. The main point being at the beginning is I'm a moron," Raynor said with his usual smile. There was no one within sight, sound, smell, sixth sense or what Raynor referred to as causal telepathic range besides the three of them. "If you want we can always step into the office now, and pray that the somebody doesn't go through the task of annoyingly go through the task of praying no one heard us. Even though it’s our own ship. Oh is it at all possible to postpone the long winded speech?"

Cora said as she moved toward a more private location, "Enough of my lecture for now just don't do it again. Now back to our more important matter at hand."

Nara stood a moment, wondering if she should follow.

Raynor sighed and followed, turning to Nara as he did, "You should come too, being our chief source and all, seeing how we can't really work off of those really vague details about how the complex looked."

Nara stood a moment. She shouldn't have insisted it only took one person to deliver a PADD. Yet, how she ended up with it was another question. She nodded, but added as she walked, "As I said, we were just trying to get out of there by the time we found the PADD. We didn't really take care to look around."

"What about the dead guy? Gender, height, rank, uniform color, general body type, facial features, species, exact position of the body when you found him, what he was his expression, etc." Raynor was taking the serious tone. Unfortunately this was intelligence, and intelligence needed details rather than vague pieces of information. Looking at him now, it was hard to see how the man before them now, who was being so serious, so focused at the task at hand, could be the same disobedient, sarcastic, wise-cracking joker that he posed around as 90% of the time. He didn't want have to try and get the details out any other way then direct questions.

Cora looked at Raynor once again then back to her visitor. "We need to find out the details of what she knows not what she didn't have time to find out. The rest we have to piece together. Raynor I want a more detailed analysis of the information on that PADD. Last time I checked this was still my department. Dig up the medical report on the dead guy if you have to then ask these questions if necessary." Her attention shifted back to Roswell, "To accomplish a decent investigation we are going to need more details. We don't work in vague answers."

Nara nodded to Cora, "Yes. I understand."

"How am I supposed to dig up a report on the dead guy if I don't know who he is? The only possible accurate information I have to work on are the finger prints on this padd, which we've all smeared by touching it, unless you brought the body with you?" Raynor turned to Nara. He was stating this without any hint of emotion in his voice. Almost as if he was bored. There were times when he thought that superior officers were idiots. This one of them. He wasn't going to say that out loud though.

"No. But I have this." Nara removed the tool belt from around her waist. No one really seemed too had noticed, but being an engineer, it wasn't terribly out of place. She held it out, "He also had this on him. He was male, maybe six feet. He was on his face on the floor. No uniform."

"One more thing..." Raynor said in a very over the top Chinese accent before switching to his normal voice. "I'll need a description of the guys hair, like color, length, and style and I'll be out of your hair..."

Nara just looked at him, resisting the desire to roll her eyes. "It was dark colored. Maybe brown. Maybe red. Maybe the red was blood. All that would be kind of moot considering half if it was connected to the part of his head that was destroyed."

"If you remember anything else let us know," Cora replied.

Nara nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

"Yes thank you for this oh so interesting analysis job," Raynor said sarcastically. "I'm sure I'll have great fun with this little bugger." He held his tongue on her assumption that he knew the size of the spatter of the blood on the dead victim. The blood could of leaked out lowly depend on how the hole was made. He still didn't have skin color, or if the body had stiffened up with rigor mortis yet but he didn't want to push the point any further. Raynor wanted to ask these sorts of questions but of course his "superior" officer had just given Nara permission to leave. But he had enough to start, he could always ask at a later date.

These were things that he noticed naturally and reported naturally, so he couldn't expect an Engineer to pick up on everything regardless of how insignificant it seemed.

Nara glared at him, "I will state again, Ensign," She resisted the urge to sarcastically emphasize the Ensign. "There was little to go by and we were trying not to get killed. Feel free to go back to the planet and ask the Jem'Hadar to let you take a look!"

"That wasn't meant to insult you," Raynor said mildly shocked. "I was talking about the amount of paper work I'll have to do... I hate paper work with a mild neglect."

Before Nara could respond or Cora could interject, an ensign walked by and looked at Nara strangely. The look she gave him made him answer quickly and cautiously, "Um, you might wanna get that looked at." He pointed to her injured shoulder before he walked off in a hurry.

She looked down and the two had already gone into the office and she decided to let the arrogant twerp alone. For now.

She made her way to sickbay.

"The Barbershop"

By: Aren Furai
Korr Shadin

==--==

Aren Furai was excited today. After nearly a month it was finally time for her to get a haircut, and after a long day behind the console of a Federation Starship, she felt that it was well deserved. Part of her felt silly for looking forward to such a simple event, but it was there.

Entering the barber's office, she hadn't expected it to be so busy. Since she hadn't had time to make prior reservations. It didn't bother her that much though because she didn't have any other plans for the evening. Plopping herself lazily on a nearby couch, she picked up a holo-magazine and started pressing through it's pages.

For Korr, getting a haircut was always a trepedatous experiance. He had a hard time trusting someone with sharp impliments when they had four arms. It was hard enough keeping track of one pair of scissors flying around his head.

"Is this one taken?" he asked Aren, patting the back of a chair piled with PADDs.

Aren looked over towards the cluttered seat with an unsure glance, quickly gazing across the room as if somebody would raise their hand to claim it. As if... finally she looked up towards a new face, "umm... I don't think so. I'm not really sure." She paused for a moment, picking up on how silly she sounded. It's not like somebody would have liked to have their seat back anytime after getting a hair cut, if it was empty it was only because the next guy hadn't taken it yet. "I mean... go ahead."

In another gesture of how easy it was to startle her, Aren swayed her own PADD between the small table and the near-empty chair, unsure of where to set it so that she could help pick up the mess. It seemed rather, counterproductive. Finally she placed it on the chair before reaching over the clutter and grabbing a large size of PADD's, placing them on the table.

It was only after that when she realized that her PADD had gotten lost in the stack. She stammered, and considered prowling through them in order to find it but she didn't want to seem like any more of an idiot than she had already managed to pull off. So she picked up another random PADD, almost feeling as hot as her face was red.

"Thanks," Korr said with half a grin on his face. He slid into the now empty chair with his arms folded self-consciously over his chest. There was a lasting silence that hung in the air. Korr felt like he should say something, but nothing came immedietly to mind.

He became unusually aware of his breathing as he watched the barber's hands snipping frantically at the hair of the woman sitting before him.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning slightly toward Aren. "Do you think he's ever cut someone's ear off?"

Aren laughed again, innocently nudging her shoulder against his playfully. Somehow she sensed that he was again being more serious than not, and while her response might have been the best to ease his reservations, she couldn't help but let the words slip from her mouth. "Don't worry, I'm sure the doctor will take care of any potential mishaps." She looked at Korr, "do you want me to go first?" She replied before sticking her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, yeah," Korr nodded quickly, "That's a great idea. Better you than me." He pretended to fluff his non-exsistance curls with a coy smile on his face. "I'm way too pretty to scar for life." he joked. Finally he burst into a short laugh. "Naw, I'm just kidding. But seriously, you go first."

Aren laughed, "You ain't that pretty..."

Korr looked away, pointing his chin into the air. "Luckily for you I'm far too secure with myself to be affected by your vicious lies." He crossed his arms and legs and went back to watching the barber at work, wincing at every snip of the scissors.

"Eh-heh..." Aren replied, crossing her arms and legs together as well and diverting her attention towards a small spot across the room. For some reason she couldn't stop smiling, perhaps it was because she was simply having a good time, as well as her first opportunity to socialize with members of the Galaxy's crew since her coming aboard. "So... what are you doing after shift?"

Korr tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Well, I was probably going to give a couple friends of mine some grief about being caught en coitus in the transporter room." He laughed, but there was a slightly uncomfortable edge to it.

"Oh?" Aren asked curiously, leaning forward in her seat a bit.

"That just about sums it up," Korr said before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "What I wouldn't give to ave been there to see it, but I was still out in my fighter at the time."

Aren gave him an annoyed glance, "I'm still confused..." she replied evenly, sticking her tongue out at him. She couldn't figure out what he meant by the term 'en coitus' meant, maybe it was some alien language she never heard of. Judging by his approach though, she supposed the issue was more light hearted and humorus than anything else. "... what would you have seen that would have made it so worth it?"

Korr stared at Aren for a moment as though something was growing out of her head. "They were having sex," he said, louder than he meant to, but he ignored the drifting eyes that were suddenly on him.

"At least, that's what I heard," he continued, leaning back in his chair.

Aren's brows widened as she finally pieced together what he had been trying to explain to her. Sometimes there were points like this where she found herself frustrated because she couldn't understand the manners of speech most humans and aliens used. "Oh..." she replied quietly, "I'm sorry I uh... didn't understand what you were trying to say." Could she feel herself getting a little red? Yeah, this sort of stuff wasn't something she really ever talked about, it just never came up. So naturally, when it did come up, it was hard for her to speak. "So... does that bother you? That they did?"

She certainly wasn't about to ask who these people were... heaven forbid she ever bump into them in the corridor knowing any better. She'd be more likely to grow wide eyed and start pointing at them as if they were criminals or something.

Korr let out an awkward laugh. "Why would it bother me?" he asked, shifting in his seat. Although he played dumb, he could think of a few reasons. Ember was a close friend, after all, and he didn't think he wanted to see her in such a compromising position. As for Ayden, well, that was another story.

Aren wasn't exactly the best at reading people, but she had a definate hunch that Korr was being... less than honest. She heaved an internal sigh, bobbing her feet back and forth from the seat like a small child for a few moments before she flashed a sudden smile. "Well... if you end up not meeting up with your friends, give me a call, ok?"

Korr sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then let it go with a pop. "Well, sure, but you're going to have to tell me your name first." He grinned at Aren as charmingly as he could.

Aren looked up for a moment, realizing that she hadn't quite gotten his name yet either. It was kind of embaressing, but the fact that they were able to have a conversation this long without so much as knowing each other's name, that couldn't be a bad sign. "I'm Aren... you are?"

"I'm Korr," the Trill said, shifting in his chair so he could offer Aren his hand to shake. He glanced over to the barber who was brushing up the hair of the departed guest. "Looks like you're up soon," he said. "Should I call sickbay and have someone on standby in case you lose an ear?"

Aren smirked, sticking her tongue out at him again. In all honesty it was a pretty childish thing to do, but a little quirk of hers that stayed with her until adulthood. "I'll be fine, you on the other hand..." And with that, the barber called up the next person which happened to be her. She grinned, looking at Korr. Pretending to close her eyes tightly out of panic, she crossed both her fingers and held them up so that he could see. "Wish me luck." She said, winking at him on her way over.

"The Great Purge" - Part 1

In a dimly lit cavern set into the heart of the mountain landscape to the west of the major settlement of the Jem`Hadar colony on Junction, there was an unusual amount of bustling about by several beings. Running underneath the terse use of battle language that echoed throughout the corridors was a rumble that sounded a lot like war drums. Each hydraulic pump of a long-underused factory the sound of a great beast's heart pumping under the calm of impending combat.

In one corner, there was a large pile of ordered metallic crates, the largest of which were open and tended to by a single Jem`Hadar soldier. This soldier reached into the metal grey unit, and retrieved a long, slender rifle. He then turned around, the first thing we notice, his insertion tube throttling the substance that delivers the addictive drug Ketracel-white to his system.

Another Jem`Hadar soldier halts at the forefront of the first one.

"I am Fourth Tarik`Danur, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. We do this gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember: Victory is Life!"

The second soldier accepts the energy weapon, nodding once.

"Victory is life!"

As the one soldier accepts his weapon and departs through an opposing archway, another appears, repeats the actions, and exits through the same archway. This goes on with another, and another, and another, and another...

Further away, in the same cavern, there was a large table, hexagonal, raised and no longer opaque as it curved around in a flattened semi-sphere. Around this table there were four Jem`Hadar. Around these soldiers, were more Jem`Hadar, all tending to various consoles and units that served multiple purposes.

At the first table, the display was bright and cascading, as several images rose and fell in a rotation of presentation. Scenes of the main colony, from the arches, including the Eastern where the Federation delegation had arrived, the town square where the monument rose in majesty, another scene from another entrance into the courtyard, another from inside the central hall, and another from inside Goran`Agar's private quarters.

There were imaging devices posted at several locations all around the area, and beyond. They saw Federation personnel at one of the scientific facilities where they had taken advantage of the separate energy grid to power their own. There had been only two of them, but they had escaped the rogue Jem`Hadar at the facility. It was just as well. Two less beings to terminate.

They saw the shuttle be shot out of the skies with their series of cameras and anti-aircraft systems that were situated at the decoy cloning facility. They had dispatched a squad to reconnoiter and detain any Federations that may have survived the crash. None had checked in. Another retrieval squad sent in later had told them the originals sent were dead, as well as a dozen Hydrans found in the area.

The group of Federation children that had beamed down with a pair of adults were in a non-priority area of the village, interviewing the artisans of the community. The impending assault that would come would take care of them. They would fall in the Great Purge.

Another camera had been trained on a community in the Kappel Valley, where they saw the trio of Federations be taken by a group of Jem`Hadar. This was the first sign of urgent investigation on the part of the soldiers watching the exchange electronically, as this was not in the schedules acquired from the offices of the First Administrator. They did not recognize any of the soldiers.

They'd seen the crossfire in the courtyard, with the Lupine, Caitian, and human. This was not something that had been planned. One of the rogue Jem`Hadar had infiltrated their ranks, and subverted their attempts to eliminate the personnel within Goran`Agar's own jurisdiction. That in itself would have caused friction between the Federation and First Administrator, in the hopes it would dissolve any potential agreements and force them to leave. Instead, the rogue had set up the team, and taken them away before they could be killed and Goran`Agar framed for the murders.

They saw the kidnapping of the Federation officer off Happa Bridge, on its way to the decoy facility as well. This too, was not in the plan. None of the taking of these Federation peoples had been. The rogues were on the move, and they had to be stopped.

They had almost been discovered in the medical facility when they had tried to eliminate the Federations that had been touring there. The close discovery of their true cloning numbers had been something that could not be afforded. Thankfully, their agent within had successfully deflected the queries and sent the humanoids away.

Those that had been watched upon one of the nutrition farms were sufficiently disposed of to deal with at another time. The three were seen to be imbibing of the test subjects, and would be only a matter of time before they succumbed to the symptoms. The latest report had shown one was already becoming complacent. They would be an ineffective opponent when they came to the farm to eliminate them.

"The agent on board the Hydran ship has been able to transmit the coordinates for the Federation prisoners on board." One of the Jem`Hadar, his face eerily familiar in the soft back-light of the table display, singled out a lone finger to one of the displays, forcing it to halt in the rotation of camera images while the others continued around it.

The image itself was moving about, as if floating. It carried a view of the chambers on board the Icon of Glory, detailing each pod chamber where an individual being was being held. It passed over the females, the Hydran scientists poking and prodding eagerly at them. There was no audio on the feed, thankfully, not that the Jem`Hadar had to compassion to care.

One of the others replied. "What these Hydrans are attempting is dishonorable. It will not be glorious to destroy them, Third."

"Perhaps not, Fourth, but it will rid this world of the weak and dishonorable. It must be done. Do you not agree?" The Third focused his hardened gaze on the Fourth, daring him to falter on his answer. He would be killed immediately if he did. There was no room for hesitation, and with the ever-present thought of spies in their midst, there would be no mercy.

"I agree completely, my Third. It has been so long since we were in battle, that I had desired a worthy opponent. I had been anticipating combat with the Federation an honorable return to our way of life. Now, we are planning a *rescue* mission."

"It is not a rescue mission." One of the other soldiers around the table spoke out for the first time. "We are adding them to the overall plan, and using them to our advantage. It has been decided. If you are unable to comply with the plan," He withdrew his shortened blade, letting it glint between them as he twisted it in earnest. "I would be honored to remove you from it."

The Third watched with intent interest at the interchange between the two. His people were intensely determined to sate their bloodlust now that they knew the moment was close at hand.

"Fourths, save the hunger for battle. You will have your opportunity to coat your blades in the blood of our enemies." His finger now removed from the images, they rotated through their cycles once again.

The Third peered past the shoulders of the two Jem'Hadar across from him, and watched the Fourth continue to hand out the energy weapons to the combat infantry continuing to line up.

"To talk in the manner of our *wondrous*," the word slithered off his tongue as an oily gruel not fit for dogs, "leader, it is most ironic that the clone-mate of the Second Administrator is the one to hand out the weapons that will ultimately kill him."

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, reached up under his collar and withdrew a tube. Inserting it in the hole in his throat, he ignited the valve that would inject the Ketracel-white into his system. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the wonders of the drug as it coursed strength through his veins.

"Come, let us look upon the saviors of our species."

The thrum-thrum-thrum of the factories below pounded through the caverns that inhabited the slopes of the great mountains as the four walked through the same archway as the other soldiers had upon receiving their arms. Years previous, when the initial ship crashed on the planet surface, there had been one person who had not followed the will of the First Administrator, and instead obeyed the orders of the Vorta upon the first realization that there were others who would not follow the traditions of their people.

This one Jem`Hadar had quietly recruited several others, and began building a separate environment away from the peaceful means that Goran`Agar had advocated. Throughout these years, agents working for the traditional faction had amassed technologies from the First Administrator's movement, and now harnessed an incredible labyrinth of training centers, cloning facilities, a ketracel-white manufacturing center, and weaponsmiths. The minerals and ores the mountain had yielded upon their first entry into the rocky terrain was abundant. There was more than enough to supply thousands of soldiers who did not require food or sleep to survive.

The Third continued to move through the slowly rising corridor that weaved around after a fork separated them from the down-ramp the soldiers who retrieved their weapons were jogging down. The other three behind him followed closely, hands on blades as they were always on the alert of assassinations. Death of a leader meant a quick rise through the ranks. Though it was one of the fallbacks of a return to who and what they were, it was exhilarating, and it was their culture.

The four came out upon a large balcony cut out of the stone walls. It extended out beyond the rockface, a barrier set waist-high all around the platform dais.

The Third peered down upon the three thousand troops gathering below in the immense cavern, the machines of war lined up behind them, and smiled.

Security Advisor Rana'Teran raised his arms, and snapped his two fists together across his chest in a silent signal. A great cry rose from the Jem`Hadar below, at which they immediately shrouded as transporter beams took them to their designated attack vectors.

"The Great Purge" - Part 2

*****

Eradu Mountain Range
Junction

Security Advisor Rana'Teran raised his arms, and snapped his two fists together across his chest in a silent signal. A great cry rose from the Jem`Hadar below, at which they immediately shrouded as transporter beams took them to their designated attack vectors.

A transport beam took the four of them as well. Rana`Teran and one of the others rematerialized into a chamber that had no entry or exit points whatsoever. The room was barely lit by an arrangement of torches that were set into the walls at set intervals. There were just enough to light every aspect of the cavern, but not enough to visually identify subjects.

There would be no surprises to arrive without the proper transport codes that would be relayed through a network of transport conduits that ended only a meter above the cavern ceiling. The other two had been sent off to their command centers elsewhere on Junction.

Within minutes, the hum of a transport began in earnest. Rana`Teran and the other Jem`Hadar fourth - the one that had remained silent throughout - both grasped the blades that lay sheathed upon their waists.

Two Jem`Hadar materialized in their midst.

"Where am I? What have you done?" Goran`Agar's voice carried around the cavern, echoing once. He reached for the blade at his waist, but the other one that had beamed in with him had already deprived him of it.

"Yara'Iclan? What..?" And then it dawned on him as he realized they were not alone. "You are one of the revolutionaries." He took a deep breath, surveying the room and noticing the two others. "And how may I address my executioners?"

----

Free Colony

The arches that allowed entry to the settlement swarmed with Rana`Teran's Jem`Hadar soldiers. As soon as they had materialized within the sanctuary of the settlement, they immediately began decimating any Jem`Hadar they could locate. Women and children both were annihilated in a hell-fury of abomination and destruction as energy weapons set on kill disintegrated them where they stood.

The soldiers met very little resistance. Those that had been preparing for this battle had left the settlement hours previous, leaving only those behind that would sacrifice their lives in honorable combat to maintain the illusion of surprise. There was little notice.

Unfortunately, the invasion of the revolutionaries had *not* been a complete surprise. As mentioned previously, there were always spies in the midst, and one had seen fit to inform the Second Administrator that the attack was imminent.

Second Administrator Rika'Danur had been prepared. He knew what was occurring behind the scenes for some time now, and seen fit to ignore it. It suited him. Let the two other factions eliminate each other, and he would come in to pick up the remnants. He would usher in a new age of Jem`Hadar leadership, casting away Goran`Agar's flawed belief that he could pacify his people, and the revolutionaries inability to see the future of their kind.

He would ally with the Hydrans, and bring his people to a new level of combat warfare never before seen. They would leave this wretched world, re-vitalize the cloning tanks to induce the ketracel-white and breed super-soldiers once again. They would stand as their own army, no longer subverting to the leadership of another, and destroy the Rihannsu first. They would be truly free to stand united against any foe that displeased *them*, taking what they want, when they want.

So, as the revolutionaries drew closer, he let loose his own dogs of war.

Within the capital, out in the wheat fields of Kappel Valley, the so-called decoy cloning facility, and the Happa Bridge aqueducts, poured forth a massive army of Jem`Hadar. Two thousand to be exact. Each one of these soldiers were armed to the teeth, heavily armored, immensely muscular, and completely shrouded. They were also comprised of both male and female genders.

They came from everywhere, converging on the revolutionaries, meeting them head-on in battle when in close-quarters, and pounding them with polaron cannons when not.

----

IHV Icon of Glory

Kylar was cold. He'd been dreaming of his cleansing on Kelva II for was seemed an eternity. Every memory he'd had faced with his minister in the reflecting pools replayed over and over for him. But he didn't remember it being so cold.

When the Jem`Hadar squad had beamed through the Hydran shields they were not expecting any resistance. Almost immediately, their transport locations were triangulated, and a variety of weapons were trained on the positions. Half the squad were killed immediately.

One of the Jem`Hadar energy weapons, in an attempt to eliminate the forces that prevented their goals of liberating the Federation prisoners, shattered the first pos, releasing the gel and the form within to the cold air. Under the coverfire of one of the soldiers, one of the others rushed across the debris and corpse-filled center of operations, and severed the cables holding the humanoid in place. He was hit with phaser-fire from elsewhere, but held the form until they de-materialized.

Several minutes later, the other members of the squad were dead; the operations center a-shambles. Red and mauve blood mixed together without prejudice.

"The Great Purge" - Part 3

----

Unknown Location

"I have no intention of executing you, Goran`Agar." The First Administrator's eyes twitched slightly at the recognition of the speaker.

"Rana'Teran. I had my suspicions it was you leading the revolutionaries. When you deflected my inquiries into the crash earlier, I had little doubt left. It was only a matter of proof at that point."

"Listen to you, Goran`Agar. You've been poisoned. Your tongue has lost its taste, your teeth lack bite for combat. You are pitiful." Rana`Teran spit on the ground in front of the former First. "It's almost dishonorable to kill you."

Again, the transporter signal whined its approach, materializing only two forms. One - the Jem`Hadar - slumped to the ground, the humanoid falling with him to his knees. Rana'Teran nodded to the Fourth, who unwrapped a bundle sitting upon a small table beside them. He brought it over to the humanoid and wrapped him with part of it, dropping the rest of the floor beside him. "Clothes."

Curran couldn't concentrate around him. Everything was blurry. He couldn't see well enough to make out the new shapes, but felt the cold on his face. He shivered, reaching for the hazy bundle on the floor.

Rana'Teran strode to the fallen soldier that had delivered the Kelvan into their midst, leaning down to one knee and cradling the injured one in one of his arms.

"Report, Elder."

"The insertion squad has fallen to the Hydrans, Third." Goran`Agar's gaze darted to his Security Advisor and the title he was using. "They were prepared for us." He coughed up blood.

"No others were retrieved?"

"None that I was able to determine. I am useless to the cause now, Third. My wounds," they both looked to the hole rent in his side. The blood was not coagulating. He would die a slow death. "Will not allow me an honorable death."

Rana'Teran nodded, withdrawing his blade. "You have fought honorably."

"Victory is life." Rana'Teran sunk the blade into the Jem`Hadar's chest, splitting his heart in two to kill him instantly. He withdrew the blade, letting the blood drip off it in rivulets as he faced the former First. Goran`Agar looked upon the blade without fear, and back to the Security Advisor he had so trusted once. He noticed for the first time the tube of white pumping into him. He noticed it with all the Jem`Hadar in the room, including his bodyguard.

"You have gone back to the white? You are weak."

"Do not try and tempt me, Goran`Agar. It is you that is weak. Turning your back on our people, destroying who and what they are, just to satisfy your perverted need to become a god to those beneath you. No one is going to fall for that trick again. You are not a Vorta or a founder, yet you presume to be. The Vorta entrusted me with the future of our people, Goran'Agar, not you, and it is I that will return them to that place of honor and fear we inspire in those we conquer." He brought the blade, still wet with blood to his lips and smeared it across his lips.

[Third. Fourth Tarik`Danur checking in] the communication band crackled of the electromagnetic bombardment of firepower in the background.

"Go ahead, Fourth. What is your report? Is the settlement secure?"

[No, sir. We have met resistance. Our numbers were reduced by five hundred in the first wave of attack from their forces. We have lost contact with the other command centers.]

Goran`Agar then did something quite unexpected. He laughed.

"Didn't expect my so-called pacifists to allow themselves to be killed, Rana'Teran? You under-estimated them, and it'll be your undoing."

[Sir, it is not the local inhabitants repressing our forces. These are heavily armored Jem'Hadar. They are not of a type that we are aware of.]

Rana`Teran brought the drying blade up to Goran`Agar's throat.

"What are they, First?" His breath, coppery with the scent of blood was heavy on his senses. It tingled the battle sense in him. It almost felt like a long-lost old friend.

"I have no idea, *Third*." The air hung thick between them as the Fourth's reports on the status of their troops continued to come in.

In the midst of the confrontation, the Kelvan had managed to pull on the robe that had been supplied for him. He still couldn't see clearly enough, but with all the use of names, and the battlefield reports coming in, he had a good idea what was happening.

"And what do you need me for?" He wrapped the robe around himself, to reduce the cold on his skin. There was no heat save the torches.

"You were intended to be killed and Goran`Agar framed." The other Jem'Hadar had unsheathed his blade while remaining beside the Kelvan.

"I see things have changed somewhat in that respect." Curran coughed and sniffled. "Do you still intend to kill me?"

"That remains to be seen, Federation. I await the command of my Third."

Rana'Teran backed off from the First.

"You will be set free."

"Third!" The soldier stepped forth in abstract horror at the thought.

"Quiet, Fourth! The plans have changed." He leaned over to the Federation being, grabbed him by the folds of his collar and yanked him up. Curran grasped at his hands, but could not wrench them free.

"Take this back to your Federation, human. The Second Administrator had no intention of letting you or your crew leave this planet. He misled the First into believing an alliance could be formed with the three major powers in the area. The only reason the three of your species are here were so he could obtain the genetic codes of the Rihannsu and Federation species. They intended to pacify *you* with Goran`Agar's own research. Once they obtained your makeups and turned them over to the Hydrans, they were going to kill all of you and destroy your ships, after having taken all information on your fleet status and strengths. Even now, there are agents on board each of your ships, all in place to perform their duties for the Jem`Hadar."

The quick slide of a blade was heard in the cavern, footfalls towards them. Goran`Agar spun on his heel, grabbing the blade-arm of his bodyguard as he was ready to launch the smaller of the two at Rana`Teran or Curran. It didn't matter which, you couldn't tell. Agar swiped his other hand up underneath the sword arm, connecting with the other's chest in a crack. The momentum carried the bodyguard to the floor where his head his with a sickening thud. All that was heard in follow-up was the snap of a neck.

"Perhaps your killer instinct isn't gone after all, Goran`Agar." He released the human, who stumbled but did not fall.

"No, it has not, but I did not enjoy killing him. Yara'Iclan was a long-time friend. I cannot believe he would choose to ally with those who would incite a civil war between our peoples, let alone support what the Hydrans were doing."

"We've no desire to permanently ally ourselves with anyone, Goran'Agar. We only wish to become whole again. We have no desire to come under the rule of anyone other than the Founders. That is who created us, and that is who we will ultimately swear our loyalty to."

Goran`Agar nodded. "I've seen it in the eyes of our people that they are unhappy. I had hoped more would see the appeal of freedom like I and others have."

"You cannot force that decision upon them, First. You are not a Vorta. You cannot expect engineered civilians to understand what it is to be Jem`Hadar! It is an affront to our species. You must realize that. You are a soldier, pure and simple."

"I *was* a soldier, Rana'Teran. I no longer wish to be."

"Then you are flawed. You must be terminated. You know this, in your heart."

"I have grown past the age of soldiering, Rana'Teran, but I'm not useless."

"You are no longer First Administrator, either, Goran`Agar. That position dissolved around you. Your government has fallen. Perform one last task for your people, and restore your honor."

"Enter personal combat with you perhaps, Rana'Teran?"

"No. That would be a pity death."

"You might be surprised at what I can still do."

"And you wouldn't be at how fast I could end your life."

"Perhaps. What do you propose?"

"Go with the Federation prisoner. Eliminate the Jem'Hadar on the Federation starship. We've no wish to start a war with them. Become one of their 'Ambassadors' sure they do not return here."

"I would be an exile to my own people. I cannot accept that."

"You may take as many of your pacifists with you as you like. I'm sure the Federation can find you another place to live. Whoever has not been killed will go with you."

Goran`Agar looked to Curran. "Would you do that for us?"

"It depends on how many you'll be bringing. We can only carry a small complement of additional personnel. Perhaps two to three hundred. Maybe more if we convert cargo bays."

"That will be more than enough." Rana'Teran spoke up. "Most of the pacifists were killed in the first wave of our forces. If Rika'Danur is the source of the resistant forces, he will likely have little care for them either."

This saddened Goran`Agar, but he felt there was little choice. He'd been caught in a war between two battle-hardened factions, and he couldn't do anything about it. Perhaps it would be time to start fresh, and see where things go from there.

"Then, I agree."

Rana'Teran nodded once, passing a communication device to the human prisoner.

"Contact your ship. You and Goran'Agar are to beam up and await our signals to beam up any surviving pacifists. Take care of that Hydran battleship in orbit. I can't confirm if you're missing crew are still on board, but it is no longer in our control. We cannot assist. You are on your own." He stepped back away from Goran'Agar. "Victory is life, Goran`Agar."

The transport beam took the former First and the Kelvan away in a shimmer of light.

"Baggage"

Corran Rex
Xiaz Padma

Despite how tempting it might have been to stay ensconced in Ella's quarters for the entirety of the Galaxy's present voyage, Corran had, reluctantly, decided it would probably be a good idea for him to show up for his duty shift. Setting a good example and all that. It was unfortunate, at times, having to be a leader.

Most of the squadron was on a day off today, and the flight deck was silent as he passed to his office. Might as well knock the ever-present paperwork out of the way, he mused, and stifled a yawn. It was going to be a very slow day.

Xiaz Padma smirked as she pushed herself, unseen, from the cockpit of her fighter. She'd done some exercises earlier to test some modifications, and though she'd landed back in the bay nearly forty-five minutes ago, she got distracted tinkering-- something not exactly unusual.

Dressed in her flight gear that, for all intents and purposes, looked as though it could have been painted on, she followed her commanding officer toward his office, though her gait was a little... rockier than usual. Once upon a time, it could have been considered the seductive saunter of a temptress, but now, it was barely a step above a geriatric shuffle. She'd been released and cleared a few days earlier, after a bit too long a stint in sickbay. They'd had to go back over some of the patch-up field work and because of the state of some of the injuries (and some of the haphazard and rushed repair work) they'd had to recreate some of them and for others, just let them heal on their own. She'd be fine, they assured her, it would just take a while.

"Coming up for air?" she asked, leaning against the door frame.

Corran's head darted up in suprise. "Out of sickbay, I see? I hear they're thinking of setting aside a ward just for Vanguards." he said, overlooking the nature of her greeting.

"If that's the case, I imagine I'm going to have my own special bed. There might even be a plaque. I always wanted one -- silver, I think, with my name etched into all... pretty like. Speaking of pretty." She looked at him. She wasn't going to let it go. "How's the Angel of Engineering?"

"We talking emotionally, or are you interested in going after her yourself and looking for an advance report?" he asked with a smirk, leaning back in his chair and triggering his desktop replicator to make some particularly strong raktajino.

She matched his smirk. The comment stung a little, not that she'd let that show, not to anyone, and certainly not to Corran Rex. She knew him too well -- every part of him, every incantation: host and symbiant, before and after, so on and so on.

"Ah, you know me," she said, settling down across from him, "I never consider anything beyond my reach. As the scuttle says -- I'm always looking for my next conquest. Especially with you playing Mr. Domestic, I'm back to being the whore of the flight deck." She winked slightly.

"Domestic's not the word for it, you know." he noted. "It's not like we're spending all our time cooking."

He looked critically at the way Pad was holding herself, seeing how guarded and vulnerable she was. It was unlikely that anyone else would even have noticed, but when you'd known a being for several centuries, one tended to pick up on that sort of thing.

"Domestic is more than cooking, you dipshit."

He grinned widely. "I remember, Pad. I was your wife, after all. I remember exactly what your idea of domestic was."

"That was really only because you were as shitty a cook as you were a housekeeper," Pad retorted. "I never should have married you, you know. Things were so much more fun when you were my mistress. The secrets and sneaking around... kept us on our toes." She sighed softly. "Fuck. Why can't I be nine years old again? You were so much easier to deal with when you that barely average twelve-year-old who wasn't joined to one of my ex-wives."

He frowned a moment. "Hell, I haven't thought about that in years. Your parents used to bring you over all the time. Gods, you were a holy little terror back then. It muddles things, doesn't it? Knowing each other both before and after we were joined? I think we have to invent new terms to describe our relationship, Pad." he chuckled.

"Back then?" she arched an eyebrow. "You talk as though things have changed." She shrugged slightly. "We're Trills, Rexie. This is how things are. Confusing and complicated and intertwined... and all in all... I don't even know."

She fell silent, looking around the room, something she'd never done before. It was just a room, really, especially now that he didn't seem to live here. Used to be, he was only really alive when he was on the flight deck. He was down here all the time, laughing, flirting, stealing glances at the new female pilot's asses when they weren't looking. And now he was entangled with an outsider. A non-Trill, non-pilot outsider.

The non-Trill thing was slightly easier to come to terms with, he'd never been picky, he'd fuck around with anything in a skirt if she was cute and give him the time of day and gave a great -- but it was the double strike that got to her.

Again. Not as though she'd admit it.

"Answer me this, and I'll let it all drop. Is it all that you hoped? Your relationship with her?"

"It is," he replied quietly, meeting her questioning gaze with a steady one of his own. "Will it last? I don't know. I guess I'll have to find out. But while it does, I mean to enjoy it, Pad."

"As well you should," she agreed. "I know I would. She's quite hot, though I still think she's a little... mousey for you."

"I didn't mean enjoying *that* - all though, of course, that's a big perk." the Trill confessed, his spots darkening slightly as he blushed a little. "It's... everything. It's good. It's... nice."

"Yeah," Pad murmured. "Monogamy can be like that."

"SO.." he started, and sipped his coffee. "You and Jen, hunh?"

Pad cocked an eyebrow. "Such a little gossip," she tisked. "It's nothing, Rex. Just... pals blowing off some steam. You know how that goes. A little toss around the bedroom, no emotional connection, purely physical. No one gets hurt. Nothing changes between you."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you say so…" he said, and then stopped what he was going to say there.

She tilted her head. "Finish the damn thought, Rex. Don't do that trailing off thing, you've been hanging around the humans too long."

"It's nothing." Corran replied gamely, though his smile was hidden by the coffee mug.

"Asshole."

He gave a bit of a half-hearted shrug, aware he was dancing around the topic. "Well.. I think she'd be good for you, that's all.

"Oh yeah? That wouldn't be because you've had the hots for her too, would it?"

"In the generic female sense, sure."

"Why do you think she'd be good for me?"

"She's stable." he replied honestly. "It's the same thing that makes her such a good Exec. She doesn't really seem to have any hang-ups, and she's not as... egocentric as you are. It'd be a good match."

"I'm not egocentric," she replied. "And we all have hang-ups, Rex. You know that as well as anyone. Some of us just might be better at repressing them than others. And besides. She's sweet. Gentle. My wingman. I don't want her to be thinking twice about backing me up if I forget to pick my socks off the floor. And beyond that. Women are fabulous. Really. Can be lots of fun. But I've been there, many, many times, and if I settle down-- and this is a big, big if-- it's going to be with a y-chromosome. This might be my last time out of the pond. Want it to be different."

"You've got a lot more hosts in you yet, Pad." he replied critically. "This is number forty-two for me. You're on what.. Twelve, Thirteen now?"

She shrugged slightly, glancing away. "I'm thinking it's probably a little higher... I've been working, a little bit, with one of the counselors onboard, with regression therapies and things of that sort. At least... kinda. But -- I'm not talking death here, necessarily, though if they do ground me again I might consider wormicide."

"Pad, just because I had memory blocks doesn't mean all of the Joined do... for all we know, I'm the only one."

"Yeah. I know. But it kinda has me freaked out." She looked back at him. "Besides. Even if there's nothing in that department, who's going to argue with me seeing a counselor? My parents literally tried to kill me. The woman's in her Oedipal Nirvana."

"I'm not arguing that." he replied. He'd always known something had happened with Xiaz's parents when she was a child, but in all the years he'd known her - both before they were joined, and after - she'd never spoken of it. "You never talked about it, not even all those years at the Institute."

"They were crazy. You know that. Hell, everyone on Trill knew that. Still do." They'd been part of a radical anti-joining faction that made up a small but violent part of trill political life. Her parents had spent the bulk of her existence being arrested, tried, released, re-arrested. When she revealed she had been joined, her mother grabbed a knife and nearly killed her, trying to cut out the damnable worm. Xiaz still had scars from the incident. There had been other incidents, too, far earlier, though her memory of them was foggy at best. "And I don't really want to talk about it now."

"Allright." he admitted. "So if you're looking for a y-chromosome, got any candidates?" he asked, secure in his lack of knowledge about the answer.

"Nope. Not a one." Though her eyes took a solid focus on his. "There's a cutie in medical. But that could have just been the drugs."

"What about Curran, then? Sure, he's a Kelvan, but I hear they really know how to use those tentacles." he teased.

She shuddered slightly. "No thank you," she replied. "My tentacle fetish was cured that time I almost lost an eye." She smirked, shaking her head. "Anyway. I have an appointment with Doctor 'McDreamy' over in sickbay. Maybe something'll turn out. Or he could end up being repulsive. We'll see."

"Well, good luck with the Doctor then. And let me know once you're cleared back for full duty." he replied, slipping the 'Major' hat on for just a moment.

She pushed herself to her feet. "I'm good to go whenever you need me," she replied, "or three days, whichever comes first."

"Get yourself up to specs, first," he cautioned, and she turned to head out the door. "And Pad?"

"Yeah Rex."

Corran smiled warmly, and there was something in it that hearkened back to Larlan Padma and Jenee' Rex's marriage. The way the lips turned in his smile, a shadow in the eyes of the old soul peeking through, maybe. "I'm glad you're here." There were so many ways she could answer that, though they'd be far too revealing, far too difficult to explain, far too much to deal with.

"Thanks," she said simply, and moved out the door, her boots echoing over the floor of the hangerbay before she managed out into the Galaxy corridor. Pad brushed her hair back from her face and leaned against the wall there, staring up at the lighting fixtures, hidden in the seams of the ceiling. She closed her eyes a moment, then hit her fist against the wall and continued on her way toward sickbay.

And then... hell. Maybe she'd pop in on Jen with a bottle of Jaxom wine she'd spent the past several days trying to track down.

It wasn't as though she had anything to lose.

BACKPOST: Set between "The Drop" and "Junction" (just before arriving at the Jem`Hadar colony, in other words)

"The Old Christmas Spirit"

By

Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor/SO

Samantha Widdlestein, Chief Pest and Morale Officer

Since there was no more need of Curran on the Bridge, the Kelvan left Henderson and his flock to their own aims.

He was the only one in the turbolift when the first of many annoyances came to him from whatever hell had it in for him on this ship - probably a direct route through its agent: Counselor Dallas' quarters.

Elevator music.

More specifically, Christmas elevator music.  The monotonous, tinny, synthetic instrument warbles you hear in the department stores on Earth of the mid-20th century.

The crescendo had built up to a feverish pitch.  "Oh, come all ye faithful!"

With an obvious edge of frustration and annoyance, "Computer, disengage audio channel!"

As the tumult rolled on up to its building point, it was abruptly terminated, and the Kelvan breathed a sigh of relief.  Silence was truly golden. He closed his eyes to allow himself the pleasure of letting the throb in his head dissipate into nothingness.

[Please state your destination]

"Deck 17."  It felt as if the moment the lift began to move, it just as quickly stopped.  Had he drifted off into a daydream?  Another human failing.  He was having such troubles focusing lately.  Perhaps it was Proctor running him ragged over the last few months that had worn him down, but he'd be damned to let that child-woman beat him at anything.

All he wanted to do was get back to his offices, and-

Sam Widdlestein was scurrying into the lift.  He'd heard about this one. Most say she was a meddlesome brat.

"Hi!" Samantha said brightly, handing the man a large red card with holographic snowflake stickers. "This is your invitation to our annual holiday party."

Kylar turned the card over in his hand, unable to make sense of the gaudy packaging and scribbles all over it.  He handed it back to the child.

"No, thank you.  I do not attend 'holiday parties'."

She was really getting tired of these party-poopers. "Don't be a fuddy-duddy. Parties are fun!"

"Do they involve tying little girls up in a truss and poking her... them... with an iron prod?"

"If you're going to a party for morons maybe."

"Don't holiday parties consist of such?  You humans tend to become quite intoxicated and act the part with the utmost experience.  As children, the part comes naturally."

The turbolift stopped and the doors opened, which cut off Sam's reply.

The older man exited the tube with all due haste to escape the second such annoyance to cross his path.  He didn't much care which deck he was on, if only to escape the pest of a child.

Unfortunately, Samantha followed after him. "I think you could use some intoxication, pal. You're about as fun as a Klingon in a beauty parlor."

Before Kylar could stop and teach the child the meaning of manners with the back of his hand, his entire existence just melted into a puddle on the floor.  The gods were truly urinating on him today.

"Hi Sam!" Karyn said brightly, as she glided over the carpet in the corridor in her hoverchair.  She was actually moving in the opposite direction, but stopped to enjoy watching Widdlestein torture Curran.  Sometimes the Fates *were* just.  She quietly hummed "Merry Christmas to me."

"Hi Auntie Karyn!" Samantha said just as brightly. Some days it was fun to make people grind their teeth in irritation and she was the champion at annoying people. This man wasn't going to take her throne."Mean ole Uncle Kylar won't accept my party invitation."

"I am NOT your uncle, nor do I wish to be at any time, any where, for any reason.  Now," he tried to push his way past the hoverchair without making eye contact with the counselor, "I simply must be on my way. Enjoy your festivities."

Karyn smiled to herself.  Was Kylar being polite?  The very possibility was such a shock that she almost couldn't bring herself to torture him further.  Almost.  "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Legate.  You see, this is what I like to call 'mandatory fun.'"

He quickly found himself cornered by the two females, pushing him in one direction as they quickly blocked him from going in the other. It was an odd scene playing out as anyone passed the three in the halls of the starship.  Curran would try to slip in behind the crew that passed by, but was met with more gaudy decorations and confetti on his clothes.

"Fine!" He spit out a fleck of paper that landed in his mouth as he retorted. "If I go to this party, will you leave me alone?"  His hands were a-blurr as he tried to brush off the shrapnel from his jacket.  It was worse than dandruff, but typically, woefully human.  It just clings to you and doesn't leave.  Until you incinerate it.  This made him pause in mid-brush, stare at a blank spot, and smile.  Ideas came at the most odd times.

"Sure thing." Samantha said cheerfully and then paused and looked at the man closely. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Snapping out of his reverie with dismay, he continued brushing as he was nudged along.  Dallas' hair in flames as she begged him for mercy had been a pleasant enough memory, and one to hold onto as he was forced to sit through whatever these two were taking him.  There were far too many religions amongst humans to know which and what he would be participating in. Perhaps he would 'win the lottery' and partake in a ritual satanic cult killing with these two as the sacrifices. That would be worth celebrating.

Karyn smirked.  Even if he was plotting her demise, in her own way, Dallas was trying to do a nice thing for Curran, to draw him out.  He'd been through a lot lately, much of which no one knew about but her.  No matter how angry he had made her or how cruel he had been to her for no reason other than he thought her weak, Dallas had not wished his assault by Mudd's fembot or subsequent drug addiction on anyone.

Before long, they had stopped in front of Holodeck four, one of the smaller, but less expenditure-using recreational facilities on the starship.

Samantha skipped through, wishing everyone a happy holidays.

As he stepped through the entryway, he was met with a brisk breeze that carried no cold, followed up with a flurry of white 'fluffs' that assailed him relentlessly. Instinctively, he threw his arms up to deflect the incoming missiles.

"What trap is this?"  He back-pedaled into the corridor, kicking up a drift of the white stuff, which he anxiously tried to stomp off his feet.

The Chief Counselor sensed the Legate's anxiety and instantly regretted the ambush.  She knew that his encounter with Mudd's fembot had been a similar surprise introduction into human custom, and seeing him try to defend himself against the unexpected elicited guilt.

"It's snow," Karyn offered gently, she was sure more gently than he expected.  "It won't hurt you, Legate, I assure you.  The Terran holiday Christmas falls in the month of December, which is in the midst of winter. Snow is a common weather pattern in the northern hemisphere on Earth during the holiday season."

Remembering the year previous while on Breen when his vision focused on the intrinsic precipitation as it swirled around him, he regained his dignity in the form of his features returning to the familiar disdain he felt around the counselor.  He drew himself up straight and ignored the flakes.

"Of course it is.  I don't appreciate the attempt at humor at the behest of humiliating me.  I will not be the target of your jokes."  And on that note, he strode through the door without pause.

Samantha shook her head as she watched from across the room. "Man, if there was ever a candidate for Grinch."

As the doors closed behind him, sealing the fantasy's only notion of being such, Kylar found himself amidst a town square rife with people laughing and carrying packages of varying shapes, size, and color.  People greeted him as they passed, wishing him 'Happy Holidays' and other such salutations. He pointedly ignored most of them with naught but a nod.

A group of beings carrying candles were singing to a couple standing in a doorway some thirty meters ahead, their arms around each other. The male had his hand on a child's shoulder as he swayed to the music.  The woman leaned into his shoulder with a bright smile.

Shops and vendors were wildly decorated along the street, snowbanks and drifts piling up against the doors and windows.

A child ran up to the Kelvan, a grin from ear to ear, and offered him a ribboned object white and red with a curl at one end, and asked him what he wanted from a 'Santa Claus' after blathering about trains, spin-tops, and a turkey.

"Excuse me?"

Karyn explained.  "He wants to know what you want for Christmas, Legate, for a present."  She was sure the concept was foreign to him.

It was then that the carolers started moving across the street to the corner Curran and Dallas had arrived on.

"Oh boy," Dallas tried to reply with dread as she saw the singers coming. She wasn't quite successful.

He backed up to go around them, but bumped into Dallas' chair, where he came close to slipping on the slush that formed up around his formerly immaculate footwear.  When he regained his footing, he found himself surrounded by the songsters.

All led by Samantha Widdlestein.

"EVERYBODY!" Samantha yelled. "FROSTY THE SNOWMAN!!!!"

Karyn looked over at Kylar and grinned.  "Sing, Legate!"

Kylar was affront with a range of emotions that ran the gamut from fear to anger to confusion.  The chorus arose all around him an amateurish harmony; someone was out of key.

His head resonated with the assault of sound as he tried to regain his bearings on the slippery ice, and managed to grab a railing to haul himself to his feet.  He sent a withering glare back to Karyn Dallas, silently wishing she would explode with candor.  His glance over the choralers found Sam Widdlestein the one out of key, her voice shriller than the rest.  She was front and center, typically.

"I will NOT sing!  Now, kindly leave!"  When they continued singing, and Dallas would not stop smiling incessantly at him, he dove for the weakest link in the chain, slipping and sliding along the ice.  He fell forward into the arms of elder lady, who laughed as he struggled for balance, and pointed above him.

He involuntarily followed her pointing finger and saw a red leafy plant attached to the street lightpost.  He shook his head in consternation as he challenged her with a raised voice over the din.  "What are you talking about?"

"You can't leave without a kiss!"  And she pointed to Karyn Dallas in her hoverchair.  "Give your lady a kiss!  It's Christmas!  A time for love!"

Kylar's eyes grew wide in horror.  "I most certainly will NOT!"

For once, Karyn too looked horrified.  To appease the woman and Sam, who was watching in interest, Karyn offered.  "How about a handshake, Legate?"

It was about this time that the Kelvan wished he would just die.  He was absolutely mortified at the prospect of touching Dallas in any sense of the word, and disgusted at the thought of touching lips with her.  An image of a woman's lips flared bright in his mind, hot breath pooling on his brow as he felt heat crackle between them.  A memory?  It made him all the more nauseous. 

His mouth crinkled at the corners, forcing the outside edges of his eyelids to follow suit in spidery fashion.  "Never will you touch me again, Dallas." He shoved the old woman to the side.  She cried out, but ignored her.  She was a hologram, and thereby less than useless.

"Aw, he's afraid." Samantha said.

"It should be you that is afraid, little girl.  Your parents will hear of this."  His eyes scattered about, searching for an escape.

"You're scared." The girl repeated. "It's okay. Probably don't kiss a lot of girls. No harm, no foul."

She waited a moment before she added. "Chicken."

"I've had enough of this travesty.  Go and enjoy your... songs and toys. This is a waste of time."  He regained his foot on a black section of pavement, brushed off his pants of the white flakes and rushed to leave.

Instead, he hit another patch of ice, slid forward as he was pushed from behind and promptly fell into the counselor's lap, pushing her hoverchair back and over so that he fell on top of her.

It was so rare that one saw their purpose in life, Samantha suddenly decided. Or at least for the evening. She could see now why she had insisted that the Legate come to the party, other than the fact that NOONE told her what to do (excluding the Captain and sometimes her Mummy).

Kylar fumbled around the hoverchair, careful - and failing - to avoid touching the loathsome woman. His body kept pressing against her own, his face brushing hers as he tried - and failed- to escape the claws of the succubus.

[Vice-Legate Curran, report to Transporter Room 1 for Away Team detail]

The incentive to escape reached its pinnacle when the female voice transmitted across the wireless network to his commbadge. Never had he been so thankful of something in his altered life. With the utmost urgency, he climbed over the counselor, jumping off the back of her chair to slide along the pavement on his stomach and into a snowbank piled at the base of a streetlamp. Puffs of snow flew up as if a down pillow blew up on the spot.

The dull ring of his head impacting with the pole shook the metallic stand, knocking the mistletoe off its mooring to land on top of small hill where his head was implanted. It looked suspiciously like a cherry on top of a sundae.

Abruptly, he sat up straight, tapped an acknowledgment on his badge, and called for the exit, skating all the way there. Well, more like trying to keep his balance. Arms flailing, legs trying to stay straight... it was probably the most humiliating when he hit the arch metal deck-plating to send him sprawling into the corridor.

He flew back onto his feet, spun around to face the two females, gave them a dirty glare and shook his finger at them. The door closed before he could say anything. Not like he could. He was flustered and distracted at the sticky candy-cane hanging off his cuff.

"Survivor"

Lt.Cmdr Brianna O'Shea (yes the real one, lol)

::: "Na'bitic" :::

Anna had to wait until the three legged creatures to change shifts before she could make her move. Now moving through he rocky terrain she hidden in the craters as she searched for a opening through the fence. She hated going into the cities, but the fact was she need equipment and she wasn't going to wait on hope of that coming to her. So once she slipped through the fence and checked her surroundings the stench of the aliens seemed to burn her nostrils. The smelt pungent to her, like someone who had sent for a work out at the gym several times and failed to bathe in two weeks. Ripe beyond words and the thought of them turned her stomach.

Holding some forged weapons in her hands that she had made. Nothing in either hand was fancy, but then they were made for beauty, they were made to kill anything that got in her way or tried to get her.

Crouched down, Anna's once crimson hair now tattered and dirty making it look more burgundy in the dark world of 'Na'bitic'. Yells of slaves filled her ears and made her wish for them to die, just for some peace and quiet. Moving now she moved the way she remembered Baile taught her, quietly but soft footed so not to make noise. Hearing a slave patrol she hide beside a building, waiting for her prey to come around to her. As the man did, her hand lashed out sending the sharpened stone through the gang members neck slicing through the skin like butter and tearing his artery. Blood spewed on her face, as she jumped up and came around with heel to his face.

Sending back, she leapt like a cat on top of him and starred into his eyes as he slipped into death. Her breathing soft but steady, it didn't faze her as he did. She was a survivor, this man, well, he was going to be dinner. Least part of him would be anyway. Nice little fire, little alien season and Anna had learned to get anything down. Food was hard to come by on this world, one had to get it anyway one could. After taking only enough for her, she slipped it into her makeshift pouch and then went in search for the tools she needed for the transmitter.

After she got it together, then chore would be when she started looking for a power source which wouldn't be detected by the aliens. Damn them, damn them all to this hell, Anna was going to get off.

Once she found her tools in the junkyard. She turned and started back for the cave where she would fix her small fire and cook some dinner. Thankfully the cave was far from the city, the glow of the fire wouldn't alert anyone. Pausing she looked toward the shipyard where the fleet of alien ships where, spiting at them she then turned and vanished into the craters once more leaving the city behind.

OOC: Okay, this is a bit of a backpost (I'll try not to get into a habit of this, I promise) It's deliberatly unfinished, the reason for which will be made apparent as time goes on :) Robert S

"First Contact - Sam Style."

Samantha Widdlestein
Sara-Jayne Agathon

Tru'Haran - Jem'Hadar Colony

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sat in class Sara yawned while the teachers back was to the class, true to form, the adults were away on some new and interesting planet, and here they were being given a boring recitation of facts about the early days of the Federation. It wouldn't be so bad normally, but her dad had read her bedtime stories far more factual, and interesting when she'd been younger... this was boring! Looking to the young girl next to her she slid her chair quietly a few inches closer and whispered in a low tone while the teacher droned on.

"Doesn't it make you wonder what they get up to down there?" Sara asked the younger girl next to her, she had been told about Sam by Kimberly, apparently Sam was the student of someone Kimberly was getting to know, and she'd suggested getting to know her, "I mean, they're letting some people go down for 'shore leave', so why can't we go!" she declared petulantly. Okay, this was a new planet, but what could possibly go wrong!

Samantha was jarred awake by the voice of the older girl. She thought about snapping at her for ruining her nap, the teacher was so boring, but it wouldn't do for the ship's morale officer to start getting all wapish. Plus, she had heard this Agathon girl was okay. "Starfleet believes to boldly explore... through use of textbooks."

Smiling suddenly, as if the sun had just come up she looked around conspiratorially and whispered to Sam, "Say, why can't we go?"

Sam could think of a dozen reasons, the most favorable argument being that they wouldn't be able to use the transporters.

"Hey, the Galaxy isn't the only ship equipped with transporters around here, I happen to know of a warp shuttle in the main bay that belongs to the CMO, and it has a transporter aboard, plus, I have access to the ship... interested?" she asked with a wink.

Samantha Widdlestein grinned. She liked this girl's style. Sure, Sam would probably be drop kicked into hot plasma by the Captain when they got caught but it was worth it.

"So," She whispered. "How are we going to get past Old Faithful over there?"

"Simplicity in itself," Sara replied with a satisfied smile, "meet me in the main hanger as soon as you get out," she offered quietly, "One diversion coming up," sticking her hand up she raised her voice, "Excuse me Ma'am, may I go to the bathroom?"

Looking around at the interruption the teacher scowled slightly at Sara but nodded to the door, "Be quick," she said simply.

Slipping out of the classroom Sara looked up and down the corridor as she walked out the door and spied what she needed, tapping the wall interface with a look of concentration on her face she typed a series of quick commands into the computer. Finishing after a moment she smiled happily and ran down the corridor to a turbolift as fast as she could and on to the hanger bay.

Still droning on incessantly about the four year war between the Federation and the Romulans and the impact on local planets the teacher was interrupted by a chirp from her console, looking down she read a note that scrolled across her desk, without looking up, "Ms Widdlestein, your presence is requested in sickbay, please return promptly," she said to the young girl sternly.

Because it was expected off her, Samantha baraged the woman with questions for five minutes before leaving in a huff, throwing that this was a deplorable waste of academia. Her teacher was quite pleased when she left.

Tapping the access panel on the KittyKat Sara slipped aboard and checked the status of the transporter, frowning in disappointment she activated it and asked the computer to prep it for use. Rummaging around while she waited she turned on the replicator and replicated herself a jacket, plus one for Sam, hoping it was the right size.

"You sure this will work." Sam asked as she appeared beside Sara. "I don't want to end up with a foot sticking to my eye socket or something."

"How hard can it be?" Sara said a little absently as she held the replicated jacket up to Sam, "I mean you tell the computer where you want to go and then tell it to send you," she explained simply as the transporter pad lit up and the 'ready' lights came on.

Samantha agreed that monkeys could probably operate the machine but double checked it anyway.

Holding up an old style Starfleet commbadge, one with the oval behind the funny looking 'A' rather than the current design, "Kimberly hooked my dad's old commbadge up to the KittyKat, just in case of emergencies," she explained, "I can call the computer and get it to beam us back when we're ready to come back," she said with a smile. Tapping a screen she called up a layout of the small city, "where do you wanna land?"

"Somewhere out of sight." The younger girl said. "Or its going to be a real short trip." She couldn't wait for it though. Her novel had stalled in its ninth chaper; she could use some inspiration for her heroine's tragic tale.

Looking at the ships files about the colony Sara picked a spot just outside the western gate and set the transporter to set them down there, "Do we need anything?" she asked, looking aroud the cargo bay.

Samantha also looked around the cargo bay. Other than her computer PADD she couldn't think of anything.

"Well, I guess if we need anything we cal always call the ship and ask," Sara decided with a chuckle. Stepping onto the pad she raised an eyebrow, "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay then, computer, energise!" she ordered.

* * * * *

Appearing just outside the gate of the main settlement, Sara looked around, "Well, we're here, in one piece," she said, trying to ignore just how close to the wall they had appeared.

Samantha however couldn't pass up the opportunity to point this out to her. They bantered for a few minutes before looking around.

"Seems awfully quiet." Samantha commented.

"Maybe it's lunch time or something?" Sara suggested hesitantly, walking over to the gate she peered around a courner and looked into the town itself. "Do you wanna wander around outside first, or go into town?" she asked, only seeing one Jem'Hadar further down the street.

Samantha made a "thinker" face complete with head resting on her fist. "What do you think?"

"Well, the adults from the ship'll be in town, but then by the looks of it so is everything else," Sara said, looking at the forest spead out behind them, taking a deep breath she stepped into the gateway and walked into the town, "the jem'Hadar could just be hiding y'know," she thought suddenly, "like, they can dissapear can't they?"

"No." Samantha snorted, even though she felt slightly unsure. What did she really know about the Jem'Hadar after all? "Let's go into town, there's nothing out here."

Stepping gingerly into the town itself Sara looked around, then, with a sudden smile stood up straight and walked confidently own the middle of the street, "Let's try and look like we belong, eh?" she suggested boldly.

"I didn't bring any ketrecel white." Sam said but quietly because she wasn't an idiot.

"Okay... Now we're here, any ideas? What can we do?" Sara asked, peering curiously into one window across the street, "anything specific you're curious about? Know much about Jem'Hadar towns?"

"Not really." The younger girl said with a frown. "Let's just explore and see what happens."

"The Widowing Fields"

Ensign Kiel
Apprentice Counselor, USS Galaxy

Setting: Jem'Hadar colony (during the Great Purge)
Soundtrack: "Someday" by Nickelback

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

Kiel had lost track of the others. Almost immediately after the away team had arrived there on the planet, Doctor Artim had made himself scarce. Given the Miran's anxiety around the Jem'Hadar, the young counselor wasn't that surprised over that. Forrester and Raynor each had their own agendas and objectives in mind. For his part, Kiel was there to listen. Something he was rather well equipped for, if not biologically inclined toward. So it was that he'd found himself walking beside an older Jem'Hadar artisan and the teenage female, Naris, who had been there to greet the team when they'd arrived.

To that point, things had gone well. Chubor, the elder, had shown him a school and several of the local homes which were notable for their architecture. Naris, it seemed, was a rather aspiring architect herself, at times commenting on how some of the structures could have been built differently, in her mind. Her idealism would at time spark argument between her and Chubor, leaving Kiel to wonder if he wasn't witnessing the start of a mentorship between the retiring artist and the young woman of her own generation. It was remarkable that there would be such a thing among Jem'Hadar. Creatures that had lived such short, brutal lives under strict, controlled direction. Now developing art and culture which trickled down and would be refined and redefined by those who would follow after them.

"I must admit, your people's style is much more muted than I'd expected," the young El Aurian stated, picking the words carefully in an even, neutral tone as he said only what seemed necessary to pick up the conversation after a lull which followed an argument between the pair of Jem'Hadar over roof angles. It had been a rather petty point to argue in his opinion, but then it was nice to be around people whose passion lay in something other than the art of war.

Sadly, it seemed the nature of the cosmos that the latter would always rule over the former. Kiel had at first been oblivious to it, wanting to believe that he wasn't hearing what he thought he was. A thinly veiled fantasy quickly cast asunder by the rapidly dissolving reality around him.

There is no scream of rage which could have defined the feeling which buried itself inside him at the sounds. The echo of polaron weapons fire. He knew it from Academy trainers. Only, these were not simulated reproductions. Nor were the terrified outcries of the people the moanings of holograms. Kiel had taken one step forward... and suddenly found himself standing upon the widowing fields. Dirt and grass sprayed the air as an energy blast erupted nearby. Spinning around on his heel, the youth was overcome by both waves of anger and naseau. His heart in his throat and his stomach in knots. Somewhere, somehow, his hand found his communicator. Found the air within his lungs with which to speak. "Kiel to Galaxy," the boy shouted, his voice raised over the blaring drone of weapons fire. "The colony's under attack."

As he came around, his hand falling away, he could make out the line of soldiers filling the horizon. And, his stride never faltering, the young El Aurian ran toward them. Blue bolts raced past him. Explosions at times causing him to lose his footing. But each time, Kiel got back up and continued to run toward the encroaching army.

There had been a school back there. Children.

=/\= Counselor Kiel, standby for transport. =/\=

"Not now," the boy snapped, leaping over the chest-high fence which had encircled the school. The screams were splitting the air, as the looming, large shadows of Jem'Hadar could be seem moving from room to room, the ghostly blue light of weapons fire illuminating the windows as the soldiers dispatched the innocent with methodical precision. Biting down on the inside of his lip, Kiel's dark eyes locked onto the window of a classroom toward the rear of the building. "Do you want to live forever," he muttered to himself, drawing in a breath as he ducked his head down...

And dove through the window into the classroom. Thankfully, it had been glass and not transparent aluminum. He'd not have known if it hadn't been for the architecture lecture. He hoped Naris and Chubor were able to get away, but really the counselor had enough to worry about as it was. Blood and glass scattered across the floor as the youth found himself deposited there on his ass and out of breath. Screams split his ears as he fought to shake it off, blinking as he tried to will his vision back into clarity. There were six small shapes in the room, huddled back in a corner. Together. Which was perfect.

Coming up off the floor, Kiel's hand came up to his shirt to seize the communicator, ripping it free as his now hoarse voice could be heard again. "Kiel to Galaxy, emergency transport. Six to beam up," the youth barked, rearing his hand back low as he let the parabolic device skid and slide across the floor toward the huddled group of children. "Lock on my signal and ENERGIZE," the boy shouted, as the commbadge landed nearly in the center of the group.

For the first time in the last several minutes, Kiel let out a sigh of relief, as he watched the six Jem'Hadar children sparkle and vanish. And, with them, his only ticket out of the hell that had become of the colony. "Just talk to them. See what's going on," Kiel muttered, referring to the assignment that had brought him to the colony in the first place. "If I live through this, I have to remember to thank Commander Dallas for a -lovely- away mission."

Skidding across the tiled floor, Kiel planted his back against the far wall. "God, I hate this security shit, too," he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting about as he tried to listen for where the Butcherers of Innocence were.

Tears rolled down the youth's face as he listened. There was no anger. No hatred nor malice. Just a growing sadness for those he couldn't save. Rescuing the six had been easy. And not enough. Six... out of how many? How he was going to help anyone else was beyond him. For himself? Maybe he should have been afraid. Maybe he ought to be thinking of how not to die. If it was all the same though, he was more concerned about the dead and dying. He had to do something.

Swallowing, the boy threw himself out the door and into the hallway. What happened from here on out... he would be making up as he went along.

"An Overdue Physical..."

Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Doctor," came a summons from just outside her door.

"Tamara, if you're going to be my assistant please call me Kimberly," she replied, for the, what? Forth, fifth time? Looking up she saw the young half Human half Vulcan petty officer stood outside her door.

"Sorry Ma'am, Lieutenant Dobryin is here for her physical."

Sighing, only a few days admitted, but it hadn't taken this long to get her yeoman on the Relentless to drop the Sir's and Ma'am's, "I'll be right out," she replied, resigned to having to put up with this for a little while longer. Shutting down her screen she looked at the already growing pile of PADDs on her desk, shrugging she slid the pile into the ancient wastepaper basket her nephew had sent her when she'd been promoted to the Relentless and dumped it under her desk. She could look at them later, but at least now her desk 'looked' tidy.

Exiting her office she looked around and saw the black collar of an Intelligence officer stood by a biobed, walking over she smiled, "Lieutenant Dobryin?... Doctor Burton," she introduced herself, "how do you do," she said brightly as she held out her hand.

Cora shook the CMO's hand, "Ok I guess." That seemed to be the simplest response even though Cora knew there happened to be far more to it than that.

"Glad to hear it, but let's make sure shall we? How long have you been aboard?" she asked curiously as she led Cora to a biobed.

"I've been aboard for quite some time now," Cora responded.

~ Okay then! ~ she thought to herself, "Well, I'll be doing your physical today, anything I should know in advance or should I just start the torture now?" Kimberly asked brightly.

"Most of it should be in my medical file but I don't know how much is in there about my recent experience with the..." Cora was forced to pause as a chill ran through her, "Dithparu."

"Actually," Kimberly said slowly as she led Cora to a biobed, "I'm still trying to get up to speed with the 'Dithparu' incident, what can you tell me about it?" she asked, hearing the pause in her voice when she mentioned them she wondered if talking about it might be useful, she certainly needed to know more about the whole incident.

Even now Cora didn't like talking about it. "It's ugly Doctor. I along with many others were possessed. In my case it's been a very long 4 months physically as well."

Holding a hand under Cora's elbow to direct her up onto the biobed Kimberly activated the beds scanners, "What were the Dithparu after?" she asked as she started scanning.

Cora shook her head, "Each one had a different specific goal. They were driven and motivated to accomplish those by any means possible. In more than one case that meant taking lives or coming very close to that."

"And everyone who was possessed remembers clearly what happened while they were... under the Dithparu control."

"I'd say they remember enough key events to trigger other memories during that time. So far I'm not the ideal person to ask if we remember everything. One of the ship's Counsellors might be have better information on that than I do."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened to you?" Kimberly asked tentatively.

Cora let out a sigh. The whole experience clearly bothered her. "The Dithparu that took me as a host had been hunting down a rogue from their kind. From what they allowed me to know it had turned into a life long hunt. Extreme rage and a need for revenge that I haven't felt until that incident."

"So you were only possessed by one of them, what was it like?" Kimberly asked curiously as she ran her scanner over Cora.

She paused, "At first it seemed like thing suddenly started to happen outside my control, like I'd been forced to become an observer in my own body. I watched Commander Henderson try to escape. Only I keep reminding myself he wasn't himself. The entity within me forced me to go after him, intent on killing him. In the end I don't recall everything just yet but I woke up in sickbay unsure if I'd ever move again. I was told he was responsible for my spinal injury while he was still possessed."

"I saw the note on your file about that, I'd like to have a look if I may," Kimberly asked indicating Cora should roll over, "if you could roll over please? Has your back been giving you any problems?"

Cora carefully rolled over as she pondered the question, "I guess you could say it still hurts at times and that isn't something I like."

Adjusting her scanner Kimberly ran it up and down Cora's spine several times, then switched to a more sensitive holographic scanner, "When does it hurt? Walking? Sleeping? Twisting?" she asked as she worked.

"Sleeping or when if I sit in one place too long. Occasionally if I move wrong as well," Cora commented, "So how does it look?"

"Well, the initial scans don't look too bad, the bones have knitted, muscles are understandably weakened or tense, that would be the source of some of your problems, I would like to run a thorough neural pathway scan though to be sure there's no permanent damage," Kimberly asked.

That caught Cora's attention and had you worried, "You don't think there's anything serious do you? How long will the scan take and how soon can I get it out of the way?"

"It's purely precautionary," she reassured Cora, "just to be sure, injuries like this take time to heal, and sometimes as the healing process continues we notice things that might have been overlooked when any major damage was being healed. I can also prescribe you a mild pain killer should the pain get any worse, plus an easy exercise regime to work on strengthening the muscles that were damaged, and I would recommend a good massage to ease the muscles that are being overworked to compensate for the damaged ones."

"Sounds like a good idea," the Intelligence Officer replied.

"Good, If you like I can do the massage, I'm qualified, just let me know when you're free," Kimberly offered, "but call me anytime should the pain get bad, or you feel anything is wrong, okay?"

Cora nodded, "Yeah I'd like you to handle that. I can arrange my schedule to fit that in."

Nodding in reply, "I'll schedule both for you when we're done then," Kimberly offered, "and let you know when they'll be before you go, we should only need to do one, perhaps two scans, but the massage I'll leave to you as to when you come back, if you feel it's helping we can schedule you one a week if you like until you're healed?"

"Yeah that sounds like a good plan. This is the most out of shape I've been in a while and its taking a while to get my muscles built back up."

"On another note, how have your PSI abilities fared since the Dithparu possession?" Kimberly asked curiously.

For a long moment Cora went silent, "It's all new to me. I really had no idea I possessed any sort of PSI abilities until that Dithparu inhabited my body."

"There are some tests we could run to determine your PSI potential," Kimberly offered, "or I'm sure there's a PSI counsellor aboard who could help if you like?"

"I am seeing a Counselor and it probably would be helpful to run those test just so I have a better idea what I'll have to deal with."

"I'll schedule that for you as well then," running the scanner over Cora Kimberly raised an eyebrow, "you've managed to break quite a few bones over the last few years haven't you," she commented as she watched the osteo projection grow on the screen, "I should point out if you keep this up I might not be able to use the regenerator on you for every break, your body needs to remember how to heal itself, if we keep using the osteo regenerator on you it could actually hurt your immune system."

For a moment Cora just looked at her, "Yes I guess you can say I have. Not that it's a goal I set for myself either." She paused, "What does that mean?"

"Simply put, we might have to cast a broken bone and let it knit naturally," she replied, "over the course of several weeks if you break a few more bones in the near future."

"Oh," was all Cora managed to say in response to Burton.

"Not to worry, it's just a worse case scenario," she assured Cora, "but something we'll have to keep an eye on, in the meantime, my scans show you to be pretty healthy," placing a hand on Cora's shoulder gently she ran a finger along her jacket at the shoulder blade, "you have a few mementos here," she asked, speaking of a few scars her tricorder had picked up, "would you like me to do anything about them?"

"No thank you Doctor," Cora responded to Burton's inquiry about her scars.

"Sure," she replied simply, understanding without even having to ask, "overall, I'd say you're healing well, got a little way to go, but we'll see you get back to one hundred percent as quickly as we can," she assured Cora, "do you have any questions?" she asked.

Cora shook her head, "No I don't have any further questions. I just want to be well again."

"Okay then, I'll schedule you those appointments we talked about and send them to your buffer, I'd also like to schedule you to see a physical therapist so he can run you through a few exercises to help tone your muscles. you'll like Jurgen," she assured her, "one last thing though, are you in any discomfort, pain?" she asked.

"Occasionally," Cora admitted reluctantly.

"Occasionally? Mind if I ask where? And how often if that's okay?" Kimberly asked.

"Left side and it's mostly if I overdo a workout trying to get myself back into shape."

Making a few notes Kimberly looked up after a moment, "Muscle fatigue probably, but we'll double check to be sure, anyway, I'll upload your appointments shortly, and I'll be seeing you in a couple of days then," she said cheerily.

The idea of making another trip to sickbay didn't please Cora but healing completely was her top priority. "See you then," she replied carefully getting up from the biobed.

Watching the J.G. leave Kimberly smiled, ~ Someone else I'll be getting to know better," ~ she realised, ~ Just wish it wasn't always in sickbay! ~ she finished sourly.

"DNA"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sitting on the bio bed as she waited Kimberly considered her current career path, with the quick turn around in Chief Medical Officers aboard, and the lack of an ACMO, there had been a slight lapse in several things, nothing major, the staff had been managing most things quite nicely, but it did highlight quite nicely the need for senior staff in a medical facility.

Primary amongst the things missed had been routine checks and physicals for the case load handled by both positions. Hence her current apparent fascination with medical checkups.

Checking her list of who she still had to see she sighed. There hadn't been time as yet to set up the CMO's lab, her lab, for her own research projects, something she'd have to see to very soon. Sliding off the biobed she took a wander around the ward to see what was happening as she waited.

Raynor had entered, the room, with a look of being lost on his face... He wasn't but he made all the actions to make it seem that way, and was probably going out of his way to show that it was common place to see him somewhere he had no business being. It was the easiest way to cover up covert activities on board the ship, he might have to perform later. He could simply claim he had a bad sense of direction within a ship, and that would be common knowledge before any planned crimes. If it became necessary for those crimes to be committed at all. A lot of maybes.

He turned and saw the good Doctor before him.

Seeing the Ensign walk in Kimberly recalled the face from the file of her next vict... ~ erherm, patient! ~ she reminded herself cheerfully, "Ensign... Raynor, welcome to sickbay, I'm Doctor Burton, your new CMO, how are you today?" she asked as she indicated a nearby biobed.

"Peachy." was the word that escaped his lips. He was too busy staring at the CMOs eyes. One is blue. One is green. His mouth was open, still but no words were coming out of it. This was having trouble registering in Raynor's head, or at least, it appeared he was having trouble with the concept.

"This is just a routine check up and not a full physical, that'll be in a couple of months, I'm just updating a few files that are out of date and getting to know people," she informed him with a smile as she plucked her tricorder from off the bed.

After about another twelve seconds of the staring, it finally clicked with what she was saying. "I had an appointment?" Raynor grabbed his cell and checked. It was there glaring him in the face. "Huh... what a cowink-e-dink... so where you want me? Should I strip or what?" Raynor asked the Doctor, again noticing the eyes, stared.

Smiling reassuringly Kimberly waited while the Ensign continued to stare, it wasn't unusual for people to stare at her eyes for a moment, they did kinda stand out, this one seemed to be taking quite an interest though, "Stripping isn't necessary just yet, thank you, if you could take your jacket off and hop on the biobed we'll begin though," she asked as she tapped the bed.

Raynor did as he was asked, continuing to stare at her eyes. He knew this would get unnerving before long so he decided to try and switch targets to her breasts... Didn't stick as after about 10 seconds he went back to her eyes.

"So, what do I call you, Ensign Raynor, Zev?" she asked as she unclipped the scanner.

"God if you like..." he joked. "Zev, Raynor, Space Monkey for obvious reasons as you get to know me. Whatever works."

"Okay then," filing the comments away for the near future, sarcasm and irreverent humour were interesting ways to introduce yourself to a new officer, "well as I said this is more of a check up really, not the full works, anything you'd like to mention? Any problems since your last check-up?" she asked.

"Apparently the butterflies in my stomach have roasted alive by a large flamethrower carrying badass... other than that, nothing I can think of..." He again joked. A thought about how the human beings were becoming weaker and weaker as a species because of medicine crept into the back of his head. He let go of the thought momentarily as this exchange was going on... his evolutionary views weren't really relevant at the moment.

Intrigued by his defensive humour and amused at his seeming inability to stop looking at her eyes Kimberly smiled as she activated the biobeds systems, "Is there something you're curious about?" she asked, "I'm sort of used to people asking by now," she assured him.

"Sorry, hard not to stare... though I doubt there be any sort question I could ask that would help me get over it. I know it's not unheard of, but when you have looking at you in the face, you just can't help but notice it," Raynor said very bluntly. "If it helps I did try to look at your breasts apparently those weren't as interesting," Raynor said in a very blunt sort of way. Somehow, he thought he was going to get slapped for that last comment.

Torn between amusement and irritation at his bluntness Kimberly chose to laugh at that comment for now, though she did make a note to watch this one, this was the sort of guy her mother would have warned her about, ardently. "Comments like that may get you in trouble one day Ensign," she suggested, "especially when addressing a superior female officer."

"They can say that 'Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn', but at least they can't say that I wasn't an honest man," Raynor said, thoughtfully.

"Agreed, but let me give you a little advice, honesty needs to be tempered with a little tact sometimes as well," she advised, ~ Okay, let's see what's going on in your head then! ~ she thought as she started a basic brain scan, his file had made for interesting reading, and she was curious as to any 'alterations'.

"How've you been feeling lately?" she asked as she worked, "especially following on from the Dithparu encounter?"

"Normal more or less," Raynor said truthfully. Then added, "At least as normal as I can be anyways..." Though he knew given everyone else's reaction to the incident this was going to sound like an outright lie. But he would just wait to see how she responded this comment.

"Normal?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "I was under the impression that the Dithparu, possession," sounding a little hesitant at using the last word, "had left the ships telepaths with their PSI powers, numbed, if I recall? Are your abilities still under your control then?" she asked, raising the scanner to his head.

"There weren't really under my control to begin with..." Raynor said grinning. "But yea I've pretty much recovered from the Dithparu possession. Besides my head gets numb listening to long winded speeches, which are a common occurrence on a Starfleet Vessel."

Raising an eyebrow again Kimberly had to wonder about him, he was very irreverent, especially for an Ensign, "Usually given for good reasons in my experience," she admitted, "you say your abilities weren't really under your control, are you one of the crew who didn't know they were a telepath before the Dithparu?" she asked as she continued to run scans of the Ensign.

"No, I did know beforehand..." Raynor said in earnest. "But it's not a naturally occurring ability. I was the subject of several illegal genetic experiments after becoming captured by a Ferengi named Starke and rogue Cardassians, probably ex-Obsidian Order. Telepathy was the only clear result of it all. Since that time, I've gotten the basics down, but the way I was raised, and the way my mentality is structured, kinda undermines a lot of the disciplines. Not to mention my unique split personality disorder, which screws it up even more." He almost wanted to say I see Dead people, but he really didn't feel like going down that creepy lane.

"Yes, I've read your file, how are you managing with that?" she asked as she activated the biobed and set its own more sensitive scanners running.

"Better than expected..." Raynor said truthfully, but then again the expectations are that he would've been insane by now. He repeated this thought out loud, and then said, "My old doctor suggested on Vulcan Mind Melds... to help deal with it, but I told him to go to hell after that suggestion. Suffice to say we had a weird and rocky relationship after that..."

"Well, I had a read of your case before you came in, there are some things we could try if you like, try and help settle things down if you find you're having trouble?" she offered.

"What kind of things are we talking about here?" Raynor asked his evolutionary views creeping back into his head...

"Well, it depends on how you're doing?" Kimberly countered as she continued to scan his brain in detail.

Raynor shook his head back and forth as if trying to decide before saying, "He occasionally speaks to me inside my own head, and most of the time its just annoying, but other than that, there really nothing else which is an improvement from occasionally having him break through and pose as me while racking his own brand of havoc..."

"He?" she asked curiously, intrigued by the comments, his file hadn't mentioned this much, "this 'other' personality can assume control occasionally?"

"Well not recently, but in the past... yes. Though these incidents are few and far between." Raynor hated giving away this sort of info... but it was better that someone know and be able to deal with it, just in case.

"What's happened then?"

Raynor considered the question awhile; taking it as if she were asking, 'What's happened since then?', as if she were saying that why doesn't he take over anymore, as opposed to 'What happened when he took over?' and answered as such...

"Well I think its a combination of things... collected the experience of about thousands of memories, including Vulcans, Joined Trill, Betazoids, you name the species, I have at least one set of memories for that species. I also took a leave of absence after the Strife, for about two years... kinda helped me clear my head- " he didn't add, doing Mercenary work and building an Intelligence Network of his own, as were required by anyone in the game.

"And just developing stratgies to deal with him, kinda helps. I could go through a long list of experiences that might or might not have anything to do with it. But there are way to many mental factors that I could simply miss, or dismiss because I analysis of my own mind is not perfect. I could list the number of mental phenomena I've faced for example..." Raynor was being pretty much himself more accurately he was not the space monkey now. He had decided to abandon the pretence of being a moron just so his doctor would be aware of what he faced before being forced into a situation where he would panicking to give her the info.

Considering his next piece of information he choice the last medical exam he had on his former ship, "Something that might not be in your medical records would be one very recent examination from the Strife. He ship is usually behind on the paper work being considered one of the most RagTag vessels of the fleet. But, at my last medical, the scanners detected I was using 12% of my brain, which he considered significant given that most humans operate at 10% tops, but it was only at the beginning of the exam, when the Doctor went to do further tests, it was gone... so it easily could of been a faulty sensor."

Listening carefully and filing away his comments for his file later Kimberly paused a moment before replying, "Well I'll check that in a moment, would there be anything else missing?" she asked curiously.

Raynor thought hard for a moment, "A couple times in hand to hand combat, I've found that my reflex speed increases because I react to someone's pyschical impulses rather than their body movements allowed me to stay on top of an enemy that normally would of been faster than me. Umm..." There were a few other things, but he wasn't too sure about those, so he would keep them quiet for now. "Then there's the whole speaking to the dead, gaining the experiences of those who die around me. Or come close to death around me... which tends to happen more than I would like."

Looking thoughtful, "All these experiences in you mind, how accessible are they?" she asked.

"Facts, like an enemy's attack plans, or security codes. Easy as pie to get at. But if it's something like how the person felt at any particular moment, or any emotional information, anything to do with feelings, then I have to put conscious effort forward to retrieve those memories."

"Sounds like an awful lot to deal with, how've you been coping with it all?" she asked slowly, filing the comment about speaking with the dead away for now and making a note to find out who his regular counsellor was, this guy's head needed serious investigation Kimberly realised.

"Considering that every mental specialist would insist I should be fully NUTS right now... from the fact I suddenly gained the ability to read people's minds alone, forget the whole having a copy of thousands of people's memories and for lack of a better word, SOULS... I'd say dandy," Raynor replied smiling. He also *heard* what she was thinking and decided to explain his line of thought to her.

"I was born with the split personality, and I became used to idea of hearing someone else's thoughts that were not my own, inside my own head. This prepared me for telepathy, better than the mental discipline I was instructed in afterward. I can maintain my own sense of self in any mental context better than any telepath I've come across as a result."

"Though that doesn't explain why I can handle complete mental copies of dead guys who died within my mind. And I highly doubt any counsellor will be able to tell you either. As the theory goes I should of died or at the very least suffered a HUGE amounts of brain damage. I haven't." Raynor said looking her in the eye. His facial expression different from when he first entered the room and simply couldn't stared at the different eye colours.

"The only theory I have currently, is that Starke did more to my genetic code then simply make me telepathic. Whatever he did, its most likely preserving my mind better than any investigation into my head could tell you. He did something to my body, my DNA, to make sure I would be able to deal with it... And if this is the case, which it probably is... I've stopped being human, and I've become something new, or at least I am on the path to becoming something new." Raynor let his words hang in the air.

Then he asked politely, "Can I have any pie while your in the middle of a check up? Is there some rule against that?"

"No pie yet I'm afraid," Kimberly answered, "I wouldn't worry about becoming something other than human though, as far as I can see, and please remember this is from only one set of scans so far, your DNA has some oddities but I'd have to run a thorough analysis to see what's been done, but to start with, your brain is running a few percent over what most humans use, it might well explain how you can cope with all this, you have extra capacity available to you to store, process and analyse the information at your disposal."

"I'm not talking a like the difference between an Andorian and a Human sort of not Human, more like the difference between a modern day human and a Neanderthal," Raynor explained. "The genetic difference between the two is minute. How many differences between me and the next bum do you need to classify as a different, though closely related species."

"And I doubt an extra two percent on the brain activity meter would account for over a thousand different lifetimes of dead memories absorbed into my mind. You can add even more of those who get themselves into near death situations, repeatedly.

"Short term I see no problems, long term... well without further study I couldn't say accurately, but it is possible that long term effects could be as little as an ever increasing brain capacity, or as serious as your brain shutting down completely, every neuron and synapse fried," she cautioned him seriously, "if, and I stress 'if' that's the case we might have to investigate ways of limiting or slowing the progression by curtailing your psi abilities and some gene therapy."

"So I can be a real boy?" Raynor laughed. "Gene therapy I'm not the biggest fan of. After all it was because of someone mucking around with my genes I got this really horrid wedgie right now."

"Now you probably know more about me than most people on board. I know next to nothing about you... So should I ask you about yourself or not?" Raynor asked. Usually, for some reason they answered the question of whether or not he should ask a question with the answer the question he was asking if he should ask. Rather than answering the question he asked in the first place. It was an odd human response.

"I'm afraid this isn't a twenty questions exchange Ensign," Kimberly replied, "I'm curious because I need to know more about you to help you, and I assure you I'm much more careful with Gene therapy than some amateur with a curiosity as to what he can do," she assured him, "in the meantime though, I suppose if you're curious I 'might' answer a few polite questions," she offered as she stored her scan data, picking up a hypo she set it to extract 25cc's of blood and tapped his arm, "hold your arm up please."

Raynor held up his arm as per her request. He also didn't like the implication of what she just said, and got slightly angry, "If the person who experimented on me was an amateur, he would've given me a third arm, or something of that manner." Raynor was slightly angry because although DNA was manipulated by an enemy, that enemy was not a moron, and to treat him as such, even in jest could set him off a bit.

Raynor had the unfortunate skill of being able to look at situation from all possible angles. And he knew Starke well enough that he wasn't using Raynor to test his ability to manipulate genes, he was testing the psychological breakdown of having ones own genetic code manipulated halfway through life. Could one recover, what changes should be made to help someone deal with it, etc.

Most genetic changes had to be done early or you risked serious damage. He said nothing about this however. His outer demeanour didn't even change nor did his pyschical position while he had this thought. His face remained with the same smile he had before the doctor had even made the implication. There was only a faction of a second that his eyes went a little darker than usual, but that was it.

"So where are you from?" Raynor asked already knowing the answer, but it was always best to ask the first question as if he knew nothing about the person, building up trust. He had read her file, but he didn't want her to know that he had. Always better to play stupid and lazy, to make sure no one gives you a hard job, because they won't trust you with it.

"I'm a citizen of the Federation," she replied simply as he drew some of his blood, "born in space, so you could say I'm at home right now," extracting the phial from the hypo she stored it away for now, watching the biobed monitors above the bed Kimberly reminded herself to check the readings against the conversation later, some of his spikes were highlighting a few tender topics she realised, "we're almost done here for now, she said aloud finally, smiling, "though I'm sure you have many more questions," she asked.

"Sure... will you marry me?" Raynor asked jokingly. After that long mind numbing discussion most people needed a joke or two to get cheerful again. Of course he meant it only as a joke, if she said yes and meant it... there would be awkwardness.

Pausing Kimberly looked to Raynor with raised eyebrows, "Ensign, one day your sense of humour is going to get you in 'very' serious trouble," she said darkly, "we'll need to have a chat soon about these genetic manipulations, but I'd like to go through your file first and do some background reading, so until then, unless you have any 'serious' question?" she asked.

"It gets me in trouble plenty..." Raynor began to chuckle. "The seriousness of the trouble, however will depend on my feelings towards the situation." Then he began staring at her eyes again, and asked, "Why did you keep them like that? I mean you could've had your own genes manipulated to change them so they were a matching pair."

"Because genetic manipulation other than for serious birth defects is illegal, besides," turning to Zev, "you have to admit, they look good," she admitted with a grin.

"Unique," Raynor admitted. All this bullshit against genetic modification was ultimately designed to stop augments from showing up would ultimately fail. Eventually an augment would start showing up through natural means. Suddenly it would become a defect to be born too perfect. His people were growing closer to augmentation than any other strand of humanity. After 200 years of his entire race striving to achieve their absolute potential in everything, and exceeding it if they could.

But he said none of this. He simply smiled.

Looking at the smirking Ensign Kimberly sighed, "Thank you," she replied simply, "anyway, we're more or less done here, so unless you have anything else, I think we should call it a day there, thank you Ensign."

"Yea," Raynor said grinning. "My head is numb from that long winded discussion we just had... you have anything?"

"I think we're done," she said simply, nodding to the door, "you can go find your pie now," she offered.

"Some People Like To Go Both Ways"

Corran Rex
Ella Grey
Victor Krieghoff

---------------------------------
Arboretum
Deck 10, USS Galaxy
---------------------------------

Lovers across many worlds, over a great many centuries, had often enjoyed something so simple as walks in the park. It was a very natural association, for new couples particularly, to enjoy the feeling of life provided by all the greenery. It was a very peaceful, and generally pleasant place.

Which certainly explained why Corran Rex, his arm tightly wrapped around the shoulders of his paramour, Ella Grey, was doing just that. They were talking quietly to themselves, when Corran stopped suddenly.

The Major had, Victor decided, brushed up against the edge of his ability to sense Victor's presence. Rex's range was a touch wider than most, thanks to his having known Victor's uncle in a previous life, but not spectacularly so. If it had been, he would have known that Victor was here, in the arboretum, as soon as he walked in the doors. The Lieutenant's range was somewhat shorter than average, he knew that from experience; she would need to take two or three steps backwards to know that he was here.

For a moment Victor considered his options. He couldn't stay here, that much was plain. He'd come to be alone and watch the stars slip by like a river, losing himself in them, and that was no longer possible. He had no interest in watching the Major and the Lieutenant - or anyone else - together, doing those things that he never would. For just a moment he wondered if he ought to feel something, feel anything, besides the emptiness inside him. He had, after all thought that the Lieutenant might be the One that was for him; but he'd been wrong. There wasn't a One for him, there never had been. There was only the emptiness inside him, the darkness that filled him up and swallowed everything.

There was no way to go around them, Victor realized, and no way to stay where he was. That left only one choice. That was good. Simple. It just was. Like him.

Ella looked up at Corran, a question in her blue eyes at his sudden stop.

"Oh, nothing much." he grinned. "Just this."

Finding amusement in her confused expression, Corran drew the smaller engineer to him, and lifted her up into the air with a bear hug. She laughed mechanically - though truthfully, the artificial nature of her voice no longer even registered to the Trill pilot - and he brought his lips to hers in a quick, passionate kiss.

Ella pulled away long enough to grin at him and then pulled him back.

There was a slight rustling in some of the nearby leaves just then, and a certain undefinable tickle in the back of the Trill's mind, so naturally, Corran turned to look.

Satisfied when nothing emerged from the bushes, he turned his attentions back to Ella - and froze when he saw who was standing, stock-still as a statue, behind her.

She noticed the sudden tension of his body and quirked her head to one side.

"Victor." Corran said quietly, partly to answer Ella, partly to greet the man whose dead eyes he was staring into. Any feeling of romance vanished, replace with an immediate and almost palpable tension.

Ella quickly spun to look.

"Major," Victor said softly, his voice a whisper that reached out of the shadows cast by the trees and slipped under their skins to make them shiver, "Lieutenant." He studied them for a moment in his head-tilted way. "You're blocking the path, sir," he finally offered tonelessly into the silence.

Something new passed between Corran and Victor when their eyes met, this time, however. After Corran's... episode down in the woods, back on the Jem'Hadar planet, he'd had a nagging feeling that there was something in him just a little too similar to Victor Krieghoff, something that explained Corran's uncanny ability to sense when the security officer was near, or exactly why Kreighoff didn't inspire the fear in him that he did in other people. Corran had always thought that it was just his experiences, his ability to give anyone a chance. But locking eyes with Victor just now, he knew there was something else.

Whatever Victor was, whatever it was about him that so terrified almost everyone he met... there was some of that in Rex, too. Not in Corran, but in one of Rex's pasts hosts. Corran didn't know how, but somehow, at that moment, he *knew* that he and Kreighoff had that in common.

And seeing the briefest bit of expression cross Victor's stone face, he knew that Victor knew it too. "I suppose I am." he said quietly. Blocking the path... that was a hell of a way to put it, and Corran had to wonder if the security officer meant it literally, or... otherwise.

Victor didn't reply, just continued to wait. The Major would say something else or he wouldn't. Or the Lieutenant would. Or they'd move.

Ella felt guilty and it made her angry as hell. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing; she was entitled to some happiness, wasn't she? Then why did it suddenly feel as if she had been caught cheating? Maybe it was because of the looks some pilot had been giving earlier or the way that some people seemed to be waiting for whatever her and Rex had to blow up spectacularly in their faces.

Maybe because she somehow did feel like she was cheating.

"We'd hate to be in your way, Lieutenant," Ella said sharply, moving past him with her chin raised.

"Ella," Corran said softly in a reproving tone, stopping her with a hand on her other shoulder. "Victor, I apologize. This wasn't how I wanted you to find out."

Find out? Victor spent a few seconds trying to decide what it was that he was supposed to have found out. A crime? Some threat to the ship? No... Ah. The Major meant that he hadn't wanted Victor to see him with the Lieutenant, doing what they'd been doing. Victor considered that another few seconds. Was it supposed to be a problem for him to see them together? Was the Major worried that Victor would feel the need to attack him? Why? The Lieutenant wasn't the One for him; she'd made that clear to him as she'd torn open the hole inside him that had swallowed him up. "You're still blocking the path, sir," he offered in his toneless, quiet voice.

And there it was. If Corran had ever doubted that Victor was one of the stuffiest individuals he'd ever met in his life, he certainly had proof of it now. "Hell with that, man. That can't be the only thing on your mind! Scream, curse, yell, do something!"

"He can't." Ella said in a hollow tone, unremarkable for someone who used a computer to speak for them.

Victor frowned slightly in response to her words. Of course he couldn't do any of those things - there was no point to any of them. They would change nothing, mean nothing. He understood nothing now, understood it as he'd never done before. When one was a thing, it made understanding it much easier. He'd need to be angry to yell or curse or scream, and he wasn't. At least the Lieutenant understood that much about him still.

Strangely, Corran was starting to feel as though he was more bothered by this three-way meeting than either Ella or Victor was. Granted, the two of them weren't really speaking to each other, but the Trill had never expected that to last. Though certainly, it had gone on far longer than he'd expected it to.

The only thing he understood was that this entire situation was simply becoming more confusing with every line uttered.

When neither of the other two said something for another moment, Victor added into the silence. "Why do you want me to do any of those things, Major?" Perhaps the Major would explain and then he'd know what to say so they would move.

"For fuck's sake, would you stop calling everyone by their titles, Krieghoff?" Rex exploded in frustration. "Because if you did any of those things, maybe, just maybe, you might actually feel like something other than a soulless killer for a second!"

"You earned the title, Major," Victor responded. "I'm supposed to use it." He paused a moment, considering what Corran had said. "As for the other..." he shrugged, a casual acceptance of what he was saying that was somehow chilling, "I am what I am."

"That's bullshit. I don't buy that. It didn't stop your uncle." He replied immediately, calling the other man on his reply. And it didn't stop me, he thought silently, when I was like you.

"I'm not my uncle," Victor observed. "And he wasn't me."

Corran didn't know why, but he felt the undeniable urge to say something, anything, to piss Kreighoff off, to get some kind of reaction out of the man. It was stupid, he knew, unbelievably so. Krieghoff could turn him into a pretzel without even thinking twice about it. And here Corran had essentially stolen the woman that Krieghoff cared for, in whatever capacity for that emotion that he had, and the man was doing a Surak impression that would put most Vulcans to shame.

And in some strange way, Victor was his friend, too. Anything would be better than this non-reaction.

Ella felt her stomach clench like it had the last couple of times she had tried to talk to Victor. And that was the problem, wasn't it? One couldn't talk to Victor, at least not these days.

She'd done that, Ella reminded herself again. The reminder did little to ease the knots in her stomach.

"It won't make a difference, Corran." Ella said quietly to Rex. "He won't believe you."

He knew she was right, that there was nothing he could say or do to get a reaction out of Victor. He didn't even know why it felt so important that he try, so instead, he didn't say anything.

She looked at the man and wondered if that spectre-of-Death persona had been swallowed by whatever black hole Victor pushed his emotions into. Not that it really mattered; she never could see Death until he was practically right in front of her.

"I'd like to go back to my quarters now." She told Corran.

"Yeah, let's." the Trill said finally. "Victor, you're not Death. You're simply already dead." he said quietly, and they got out of his way.

Krieghoff didn't offer a verbal response, he simply went one way down the path, while Corran and Ella turned and went the other.

"Mind's Eye, Part 3"

Lieutenant (J.G.) Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer, USS Galaxy

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara
Operations Chief, USS Galaxy

Senior Chief Petty Officer Renora Loret
Tactical Analyst, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment, USS Galaxy

With:

Trem'Ore
Jem'Hadar Child

Gar'Han'a'Mar
Jem'Hadar Male

Ma'u'Ral
Jem'Hadar Child

****

Planetside The Cave

"Turn it off," Victor advised quietly, his words toneless. The woman would go mad if she didn't shut down her receptors, and he had no desire to carry her out of these caves. Another memory popped into his head unbidden, the feel of the catches holding Karyn Dallas in her chair under his fingers. "You can't run; you're trapped in the chair. Turn it off."

Anger flared to life in Iniara's head then, lancing through all the other turmoil. She wanted to lash out at him, to hurt him for those words. It wasn't the chair she was trapped in, it was her mind! It was her own useless brain's inability to heal itself that kept her this way. How dare he mock that which was out of her control!

Except...he hadn't mocked her, she realized. He had only stated fact, and she was overreacting. Just as quickly as it had appeared the anger withdrew, pulling itself and the fear and everything else back inside, deep inside. She closed her eyes, focusing on her shields, rationalizing away the fear.

Several seconds passed before she opened her eyes again. Now all she saw was a man, a man in a Starfleet uniform. Color crept into her cheeks as she realized how stupid her actions had been, and that she had made a fool of herself in front of a fellow officer. "I apologize for my overreaction," she began softly, almost sheepishly. The terror was gone, but there was still a healthy amount of anxiety in her voice, her actions. "You must be Lieutenant Krieghoff."

"You didn't overreact." The words were flat, like dead facts laid out on a table for dissection. "It's what I do to Betazoids." Victor frowned down at her in the chair, seeing someone else for a moment, feeling Karyn Dallas's lips on his and recalling the terror that had risen from her like smoke from a fire. "You won't be able to keep it out for long, even with your receptors shut down," he added quietly, his voice still not seeming to echo as hers did. "One of us has to leave."

"This isn't the first time I've felt this, and I doubt it will be the last. I can control it," Iniara countered, confidence beginning to edge back into her voice. She eased the chair forward, leaning down to retrieve the flashlight which had fallen between them. Angling it towards the ground she reactivated it, and then looked back up into Victor's eyes. "And if I can't, well, I'll leave. Simple as that."

Before he could say anything, Iniara continued on. "Now tell me, what have I missed? Chief Cannon didn't get the chance to fill me in on the details of this impromptu caving trip." Getting her mind on something else would help keep her grounded, and allow her to focus on something other than the weirdness in the back of her brain.

"No, you can't control it," Victor returned. "The longer you're within range of me, the more it will creep in through your control until you have no control. You're one of the lucky ones; you can keep it at bay for a little while. My first roommate at the Academy was from Betazed - he screamed and jumped out the window when I walked in the door for the first time. We were on the third floor." The words were delivered as simple fact, nothing more; no trace of emotional context carried with them, as if they had been scoured clean by repetition until there was nothing left but the words. He frowned, the ghostly memory of Karyn Dallas' nails scoring his face, but let the memory fall, with everything else, into the nothingness inside him.

"Chief Loret is with Lieutenant Jonas twenty meters ahead and to the left. They were preparing to assist two Jem'Hadar - one adult male and one male child - in rescuing another Jem'Hadar child from where he fell while playing in the cave. My presence was adversely affecting the child's state of mind, so I took the opportunity to see who was approaching." He tilted his head to the side, still frowning. "In your current condition, I do not believe that you can actively assist in the rescue, Lieutenant. I can neither assist in the rescue, nor remain in close proximity to you. If one of us has to leave, it will be me."

"The dilemma seems to have solved itself, then. Regardless of my physical condition I may still be able to assist, so I have to at least try." Iniara scooted her chair to one side of the tunnel. "Leave if you feel you must."

Victor watched her move on and then turned and vanished into the darkness, one with it again, invisible and empty.

****

Planetside
The Cavern

They had just pulled the boy out of the hole. Renora was dusting herself as Jonas looked the boy over. He didn't seem to have any major complications from falling down the hole. A few minor cuts and scrapes but that was all.

Trem'Ore looked at his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tag, you're it!" He said before sprinting towards what must have been the direction of the cave entrance. His recently freed friend rushed after him with a massive grin on his face.

"Take it outside!" Gar'Han'a'Mar called out loudly to the receding pair.

Shaking his head, he sighed. "I must apologise for Trem'Ore. He seems to have forgotten the manners he was taught in school. I will have to talk to his mother."

Jonas shrugged his shoulders. "He's just a boy. Trying to have fun with his mates."

"True." The elder Jem'Hadar replied.

"There is one thing I would like to talk to you about." Steven looked at the Jem'Hadar, the dim light causing the scales on his face to make him look more menacing than any Jem'Hadar Jonas had seen before. Shrugging it off as paranoia, he continued. "I think you should erect some sort of barrier at the entrance to the cave to ensure that something like this doesn't happen again."

Gar'Han'a'Mar nodded. "I will bring this matter up with the First."

"That would be wise." Renora added. "I would also suggest patrols or some kind of rescue contingency in the more hazardous terrain. That way if anyone does go missing they have a better chance of being found sooner."

The Jem'Hadar nodded. It felt slightly strange to Renora, almost surreal, the history of their two races was brief and bloody and here she was giving advice on search and rescue operations. The Jem'Hadar of this community certainly did seem to be a breed apart.

With that done, the three of them started the walk back to the cave and freedom from the confines of the underground mine.

****

Planetside
The Cave

After bidding Gar'Han'a'Mar goodbye, he apparently had to ensure that no one else was in the Cavern, the Tactical officer and Marine headed back through the strange cave in silence. Bats, mice, insects were the owners of the few sounds that were heard above the crunch of Starfleet Issue boots crunching on the rock strewn floor.

It wasn't hard going, but it had been a few hours since they had entered the cave and Jonas was tired. He had been up for close to 2 days, his record being 5 straight days awake while on a mission, and he was exhausted. Due to this, he failed to notice that someone was in the cave ahead of them until the Bajoran tapped him on the shoulder and whispered to him that someone was there.

Jonas pulled his rifle from his shoulder and turned on the flashlight. Until then they had been using Renora's torch that she had been carrying. Swinging the beam in front of them, it swept ove ther rough ground and settled over what looked like some sort of grav chair. With a woman in it. A Starfleet woman at that. Briefly Jonas saw a startled look on her face. It didn't last long before being replaced by a more neutral expression.

"Lieutenant Steven Jonas, 188th Furies." Jonas called out. "And I have Chief Renora Loret, Tactical Officer here with me. Who are you?"

"Tarin Iniara, Operations." Iniara scooted her chair forward, examining the pair. It had taken her much longer to find them than she had expected; travel by grav chair was much slower, and by the time she had found the spot where they should have been, the area was empty. "Lieutenant Kreighoff told me you were helping to rescue a child in trouble. I came to offer my assistance, such as it is."

"Hi. Um... We just finished with the rescue. Did 2 young kids not come running past here?" Iniara simply shook her head. "You're the first people I've seen since Lieutenant Kreighoff left." Jonas sighed. "Oh well, they have probably gone off somewhere else down here. Or they know of another exit somewhere." "That is probably the case. I've noticed several smaller passages branching off from this one, but as of yet I've been unable to get a complete picture of the cave structure," Iniara explained, holding up her tricorder for emphasis. "Something seems to be interfering with the sensors." "Perhaps we should head back to the surface. I'm sure you two were initially coming down here to check out the settlement." Jonas saw them both nod in agreement. "I'm sure there is plenty of time before we have to leave to see what all the fuss is about." "Good idea. I'm more than a little curious to see this so-called settlement."

"Path to evolution - part seven"

Lt Jebidiah Baile

Hydran Temple

*****

A few months earlier

He had left the group behind earlier. He moved faster that way. The complex was huge and old. He was almost disappointed in not finding more obstacles than he had. Some old traps, nothing more. Both easy to find and disarm.

The corridor had been difficult to reach. A Hydran would definitely not be able to reach it without some serious digging. The tunnels leading in there were much too small. Tunnels didn't frighten the marine. He had done his fair share of scouting tunnels in enemy territory over the years. He let the

flashlight wander the walls. He hated this place. He had decided that a few minutes after he had left the group to scout. How he hoped that some moronic

little empire somewhere would declare war against the Federation so he might

be put to use again. Babysitting onboard a starship wasn't for him.

Scanning the gate at the end of the corridor it showed a large chamber behind it. He slung the rifle on his back and started examining the door. A few seconds later he patted the stone door with a sly grin. "Like laying down a virgin..." He dug his heel in and pressed his shoulder against it. Slowly it began to move, dust falling down around him. It took him maybe ten seconds to open the door enough for him to get inside. Grinning wide he slapped his hat against the leg. "Can't keep a Crow out, eh?" Baile said out loud. Turning the flashlight into the room Baile couldn't help but to whistle.

"Fuck me..." He raised his hand and tapped the commbadge only to be greeted by the all too familiar chirp as it was unable to establish communication.

"Great.." Truth be told he wasn't too alarmed. Now he would be able to search the place without the team asking for status report every two minutes. Apart from the traps the only enemy in the dig was boredom.

It took him a few minutes to get the general feel for the place. The beam of

light fell on one of the massive statues portraying for him unknown Hydran entities. "God damn you are one ugly bugeye." Slowly the beam from the flashlight wandered over all of the statues. He cocked an eyebrow. "My mistake. I should have said you're all ugly bugeyes.. Damn.."

With the rifle still slung over the shoulder he took out the tricorder. Old rocks told him nothing, but the brainiacs would want better descriptions than 'grey rock, black rocks and really old rocks'. That's when the trouble started.

***

present day.

"I remember that.. " Baile said out loud. "The tricorder wouldn't work. Nothing electronic worked. The flashlight stopped working a few seconds later."

***

A few months earlier.

Suddenly the flashlight died. "Oh that's just great..." his voice bounced against the rock. A normal person would find the darkness almost physical. It wasn't just dark. It was pitch black. The nearest light was several hundred meters of twisting corridors. Maybe the others would find their way, but that would take a while. Sighing heavily he dropped the backpack and sat down on top of it. He had learned to pack his own gear a long time ago. It was vital being able to find everything inside as quickly as possible, not using any visual aid. Whistling to himself he found what he was looking for. "Ah, Combat rations.. everything a man needs. If I ever meet the man that came up with that expression I swear I will shoot him."

Breaking the seal on the c-ration he found what he was looking for. The energybar. Basically lots of sugar wrapped up with all sorts of artifical goodies. Tasted like crap, but most marines were addicted to the crap. "Ah.. " As soon as he had finished the bar his dug grabbed two chemical lights from his combat webbing, broke them and gave them a good shake. A soft green light spread throughout the chamber.

Checking the phaser it only confirmed his suspicions. It was just as dead as

the flashlight. One of the reasons he never truly trusted phaserrifles. Lousy rate of fire and vulnerable to all sorts of electrical mojo. On the other hand the clip lasted a lot longer, damage was good, not to mention being able to stun.

A chemical based rifle on the other hand, a good old fashioned slugthrower wasn't susceptible to electric mojo. An engineer had explained to him just how much easier it was to interfere with electrical equipment than it was to

stop a chemical reaction such as gunpowder. The rifles were no use in vacuum, but everywhere else. Of course heavy G planets had a negative impact on the range. Then again heavy G planets had a negative impact on just about

anything. His own rifle was a modern miracle of engineering. Composite materials combined with cutting edge technology. Every round armorpiercing, capable of punching through most wearable bodyarmor, including all used by the Federation and its allies.

It wasn't a sniperrifle, yet it was highly accurate up to eighthundred yards. Its rate of fire unmatched by a phaserrifle. Drawback - recoil, hard as hell to find ammunition on enemy planets. But not impossible. Besides if one thousand rounds wasn't enough then ten phaserrifles wouldn't do the job. All in all the Crows began their missions with more than five thousand rounds of ammunition, not counting the extra firepower the phaserrifles gave them. The right tool for the right job.

Baile placed the rifle in his lap. No reason to be in a hurry. Still whistling he looked at the statues again.

****

Present day

"Sounds. I remember hearing sounds." Baile watched himself sit in the darkness, whistling. The memories were returning as the scene played out in front of him. "I heard a scraping sound, like feet. But it wasn't. I remember I turned around and.."

"Path to evolution - part eight"

Lt Jebidiah Baile

Hydran Temple

****

A few months earlier

The rifle was aligned along his line of sight. The finger rested on the trigger, ready to unleash hell. The sight that greeted him was not the one he had expected. The sound came from a part of the wall that had opened, revealing a panel. The lights it produced was drowned in the green chemical light, but he guessed would have been green anyway. Slowly he started walking towards it, this time his senses at full alert. In the blink of an eye he had gone into full combatmode.

He reached the panel without incident, carefully checking where he placed his feet, not wanting to trigger a trap of sorts. He set the rifle to burstfire, not wanting to empty the clip in case something attacked him. Step by step he approached it, unsure what to do next. The signs on it seemed Hydran, but he wasn't sure. It struck him as strange that the panel worked when his own electronic gadgets didn't.

Without warning several lights on the panel came to life, nearly causing the marine to squeeze the trigger and empty a few rounds into the panel. "Hey hey hey... I didn't touch anything.." Several strange signs appeared on the black screen. A countdown of sorts. "Oh shit.. that can't be good.."

He tapped the commbadge one more time, but it was just as dead as it had been a few minutes ago. "This is really a bad time to stop working.." he told the non-functional communications device. A new sound made him spin around again and this time movement caught his eye.

"Who goes?"

The sound rolled inside the chamber, this time from another direction.

"Identify yourself."

Slowly he spun around, ready to shot any attacker. Then everything went black. So much for engineers and their explanations on how much more difficult it was to stop chemical processes.

The green light was replaced by the much weaker one from the display behind him. Using the lowlight goggles would be useless. Electronics wouldn't work and even if it did - no telling if they'd stop working in the middle of a firefight.

Forcing his breathing to slow down Baile did the best he could to ignore the beating of his own pulse. It took him a few seconds to recognise it. He was scared. Terrified. All he had was training standing between him and panic. What the hell made him feel that way?

*****

Present day

"Next thing I knew was pain. I felt like someone dipped me in acid." Baile looked at himself laying on the floor, gasping for breath. Pitiful. Weak. A lifetime ago. He looked at the hooded figure. "You did something to me. You gave me these. Why?" He directed his eyes at the stranger. Why the hell couldn't he see the face? Darkness meant nothing to him and still the hood remained dark.

The next second a light struck the figure laying shaking on the ground. He sat up, limbs no longer under his control. His body twitched violently, his limbs no longer under his control. An uncontrollable murderous fury, hot enough to melt the very rock he was standing on. Then, after what seemed like an eternity Baile watched himself empty his lungs in one final defiant howl of rage, terror and pain.

The stranger looked at him in return, perhaps searching for signs of violence. He certainly found what he was looking for, as surely as stars are hot. "You entered the sanctuary." the stranger told him with the same irritating calm as before. "Naturally... we.. got curious. Who was this creature entering our domain. Certainly not one of ours. Anger, hatred and defiance. You wore those feelings as openly as you wore clothes."

The image of himself vanished, allowing the utter darkness to return again. Baile blinked a few times. The mere light from the vision had caused him pain. Didn't matter. He and pain had a complex relationship. Almost like old lovers.

"What was your first reaction to the avatar?" the stranger asked him.

"It attacked me." Baile replied with a sneer.

"No, it approached you."

There. Finally. He could feel himself go angry, feel the furnaces start burning again. "When something comes hovering at me, with tentacles and crap and its not responding, then I'm not going to stand still and let it buttfuck me for a week. Not then, not now."

"What was your first reaction to the avatar?" the stranger repeated as if he had not spoken a second earlier.

"I shot it. Six shots centre mass and I would do..." he finally got his mouth under control, but too late.

"Do it again." the stranger finished for him. "The avatar meant you no harm."

"You seriously expected me to be nice after you turned my brains inside out?!"

"It meant you no harm." he repeated.

"Then why the fuck did you make it look like a fucking squid on steroids?! Were you trying to get it shot? Hovering freaks with tentacles registers as bad in my book."

"Everything registers as bad in your... book."

"Get the fuck out of my head."

The stranger chuckled. "No need to read what can be seen with a naked eye."

"Cute. But yeah, you're right. I shot it."

"You killed it."

"It was either that or me. I prefer me before that. What can I say? Would I do it again? Yes."

The stranger didn't find the comment amusing. At all. "You came in here looking for the same monsters you have been searching for your entire life. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Tell me something, Dusty.. are you one of.. " he nodded towards the statues. "..them?"

For the first time the stranger showed another emotion than mild contempt. "No I am not. I am but a humble servant. An extension of their will, created to guard them and make sure no harm comes to them."

"Well, ain't that great.. I'm getting lectured by a butler.. " Baile sighed heavily. He had barely formed the thought in his mind when the stranger swept an arm down and swatted him across the floor. Sliding on the rough stone floor Baile tried to roll with the blow, feeling like he had been hit by a shuttle.

The stranger didn't move, didn't follow up the attack. It simply looked at him.

"Alright.. so you're not a butler.." He stood up and brushed the dirt of the sleeveless leather trenchcoat he was wearing. His shoulder ached from the force of the impact, forcing him to rapidly re-evaluate the stranger and his capabilities. ~Stupid idiot~, he chided himself. ~Stop judging books by their covers.~

"Is that your answer to everything? Death and violence?"

"Pretty much, Sparky, but usually in the opposite order. First violence - then death."

The retort he waited for never came. Instead he found himself alone again in the dark. Sighing in annoyance he checked the bruises on the arms. Nothing too bad. Some blood. "What? You ran out of power?" he asked the empty room. "I'm not done with you! Get your fat ass back here, Barbie!" the marine bared his teeth and a low growl escaped his throat.

He started pacing the room like a caged animal, ready to strike at whatever came his way. "Get back here! Miserable son of a whore!" Only the echo of his own voice replied. "You dog! I'll piss on your graves and nail your skulls to the walls as trophies!" Baile roared at the top of his lungs.

But the darkness remained, disturbed only by the outburst of rage. It was good to feel the rage again. It was like seeing an old friend long lost, or tasting a vintage wine, rich and full in flavour. But unfortunately it was all futile. There was no way out, no one to fight. No battles to win.

Then everything went dark again.

"Path to evolution - part nine"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC,
CO Furies Detachment

Guest appearence by Trey as Commander Lucas Erickson, Starfleet

Various NPC's

Starfleet HQ, Earth

****

When he opened his eyes he was back in the room where he first came to. It still smelled awful, but at least that hooded halfassed lizard wasn't there.

He got up from the chair, or at least tried to. He was still chained to it. And strapped down. Glad to see someone out there still loved him. Instantly two things came back to him.

The headache.

With a vengence. Misery loved company.

His fury.

As soon as his brain fully grasped the situation at hand he growled out loud. "Come back here you slimy pigfaced sheepfucking monkey! You think I'm afraid of you?!" The bonds creaked from the tension he put then under. "Spineless maggot.." Slowly he relaxed and leaned back in the very uncomfortable chair.

How on earth had he managed to get himself from sitting in a bar to this?! It would have been a lot easier to understand with a handful or more of Hydrans torturing him to pieces, but none of that happened. Not a single question about his name, what he was doing there? He had been drinking, yes. A lot.

But none of his equipment was Federation standard. Mercs used that kind of equipment and he didn't exactly sport the clean cut look of Starfleet. He tried the bonds one more time, but they were simply too strong. "This is just great.. "

It seemed he would just have to wait and see what the third act would bring. The sound of the door opening woke him up from his slumber. Shaking his head to clear his head again he looked up. His body believed it was injured, nearly shutting down to take care of injuries that didn't exist. It annoyed him greatly, but that was another thing he could do nothing about. The insults he had prepared never came. Why? Simple reason. It wasn't a Hydran that entered the door. Nor was it the stranger.

It was a human wearing a Starfleet uniform.

He had never seen the particular model, but there was no doubt that it was Starfleet issue. The ever present commbadge being the dead give away. Not to mention the self-righteous look on the face of the human.

The room was very sparsely furnished. Three chairs and a simple table. No windows, mirrors or any other decoration. The strong white light blurred out the details on the walls. It was not a place Baile wanted to loose the goggles he wore.

Walking inside the young officer neatly placed a padd on the table. The black shoes worn by the Starfleet officer reflected the light, the results of flawless maintenance of personal equipment. He pulled out the chair opposite Baile and sat down, adjusting the chair until he seemed to be satisfied.

Minutes passed by as the young officer examined the data on the padd over and over again.

Baile sighed. Standard interrogation procedure. Surely they, or whoever the hell that did this knew he had received training to resist interrogation? The Starfleet officer finally sat down at the table. Looking directly across at the form of the war torn Jebidiah Baile. "You have cost us a great down to capture you, Mr. Baile." The man said. "I'm Commander Lucas Erickson, I'm here to offer you a plea deal by the Judge Advocate General."

A cruel grin formed on Baile's face. He could smell how nervous the young man was. "A plea?" he asked, more amused than interested.

"You understand what the word -plea- means right? You plead guilty on all accounts and charges and we'll talk to the court on your behalf." He said then paused. "Frankly, if I were you I would be very worried about the magnitude of evidence against you."

"Oh I understand what it means alright, Sparky... " Baile replied, not having a clue about what was going on. "Tell me something, Barbara... what am I charged with?"

"Just to name the top ones... Treason, inciting a war, and murder." He said as he looked back to Baile. "I have to know. Why, why did you do all this?" Lucas asked.

The marine sighed. If that damn stranger returned he would strangle him. Or die trying. He raised his head and looked around as much as his bonds would let him. "Alright.. I get it.. Lesson learned.. now get me the hell out of here.." Baile said to the room, ignoring the interrogator completely.

"You should know... this room, you and everything that happens here is outside Federation Jurisdiction. Frankly if they knew, do you really think they would care what happens to you after what you've done?"

He turned his attention to the officer, turning his head fast. The young man

flinched visibly. So they feared him and from what he had just told Baile - rightfully so. But his tone of voice irritated Baile. "If I want your opinion, Mickey, I'll carve it to your forehead."

"Then I guess this conversation is over and I will let the interrogation officer back in here." Lucas said, standing up.

The door opened behind him and a new figure stood in the opening. A blond human female, with her hair tied back in a bun. "Commander Erickson. Would you mind remaining in here?" she asked while she walked inside, taking her seat next to her human colleague. Her id identified her as SI, one of their chief interrogators. She wasn't here for show. She was her because she was needed. Getting information out of the insurgents was very difficult. They were smart and well trained in different interrogation techniques and their threshold for pain had become legendary among the interrogators. Breaking them took time, a lot of time. Telepaths refused to enter their minds, so they had to do it the old fashioned way, mostly with poor results.

Nodding the Starfleet JAG Officer stepped back and stood dutifully not far away. "We need the information. Starfleet and the Federation are no longer recognizing the validity of his citizenship.. do what you must to get the answers." Lucas stated.

Her name was unimportant. Or rather a secret. A ghost that didn't exist. It had begun five years ago. Signs of trouble. Strange attacks on Federation targets, pitting the Federation against politically unstable targets. It had

begun in small scale, but now it had spiralled out of control. SI was left chasing ghosts. Now they had been able to track down and capture one of them, a former Federation marine. "Thank you, Commander." She turned to Baile with a neutral look on her face. The few insurgents they had been able to capture could be described in one word - superior. Faster than Vulcans, stronger than both Klingons and Vulcans. Bred for combat.

"Mr Baile. When I leave this room you will be put down. No doubt you will try to resist, but you will fail."

Baile watched the woman, silently wondering if the Hydran Gods hated him that much. He relaxed in the chair. Her words was far more self assured than she was. She smelled insecure, doubting herself. He could hear her heart race, see the strain it put on her trying to control it. She knew he could see it and she hated it. "Toots, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about..."

Standing there off to the side Lucas said nothing. He would rather not watch

the professional do what she's paid to do. No, he didn't want to watch but he remained here and looked slightly down at the floor. Unsure how to proceed in this without becoming to comprised in the woman's interrogation.

"Mr Baile, we have found more like you." This was highly classified information, but the Commander had been cleared. The Federation was on the verge of war, but there was no enemy to fight. Someone in the shadows stabbed the Federation in the back, but was too quick to be seen. Until now.

"Again Toots.. I got no idea what the hell you're talking about..."

"A new species. Mr Baile."

Lucas stepped forward. "We want to know the origin of your kind." Lucas said, figuring Baile wasn't understanding what the woman was wanting.

Baile was silent for a few seconds as thoughts rushed through his mind. What the hell was happening? A new species? These people had to be on drugs. "Tell you what, Bubba... I want to hit you on the head with this chair.." he tugged at his bonds to demonstrate. "So I guess one of us will have to go to bed disappointed tonight..."

Lucas give a wave to the woman, is way of telling her to get it out of him. "Do what you have to do... death will be is only escape." Lucas said then started for the door.

The advancement of such things as interrogation was one of those things that the public was never told about. In fact few among the Starfleet was told. With the rising of a new invisible enemy it became vital to protect those techniques. Unfortunately they had taught some of the suspects how to resist them. That knowledge had soon spread among them. Ironically enough that knowledge had for a while become a telltale sign before the suspects had adapted to that as well.

Sweat dripped down Baile's face. His nerves was on fire. Breathing heavily he tried to raise his head to look at the two humans. They still feared him. If it hadn't hurt so much he would have laughed at it. The stranger was definitely going to get killed by him if he saw him again.

"Mr Baile. During the time you served the Federation you lived alone. No registered partner except for a short time when you were a member of the Crows. Why is that?" the woman asked her softly, as a part of the procedure.

Without knowing it Baile gave the Commander a display of his capabilities. He raised his head and looked straight at the woman. Every sign of pain was gone, blocked out by his mind and body. Although his eyes was covered both could feel the anger in them. "Don't go there, Dorothy.." Maya was his. He would not allow them to sit there and speak about her like they knew her.

Lucas opened his file. "I believe he was once involved with Maya Saal According to our files on the subject he was in a long term relationship with her." Lucas said.

The woman nodded, but the fact that he seemed not to feel the effects and stress of pain worried her.

A hologram display of the woman named Maya hovered over the table. He remembered when that picture was taken. It came from his own personal files. Where the hell had they found it? Baile shook his head, reminding himself it wasn't real. It was all a mirage. But it felt real. It confused him. All impulses from his senses told him it was real. The man, the woman, the table, the chairs, the recycled air in the room. Baile's closed and opened his hands under the table, pumping blood into his arms, stretching the bonds even tighter.

"Mr Baile. You will not be able to break the bonds. They have been designed to hold you."

The room fell silent and then the doors opened. She had been watching the video feed and had grown tried of watching. She needed to be in there. Her presence startled neither Lucas or the female interrogation specialist. Her clothing, black and night and eyes soft but saddened. "Jeb.." Her voice was soft and carried into the room. "My Jeb.." She said walking closer. "What have you animals done!" She said, slapped the woman. This was her job, this was her mission and cause. This was her duty, but it would be Baile's nightmare.

The man who was regarded and branded a traitor to the people in the room watched the newcomer enter. His heart missed several beats when his eyes recognised the face. Despite it the shock he couldn't help but to grin when she slapped the other woman. Maya. Just one problem with it all.

She was dead. Dead by his hands.

What he killed stayed dead.

"Maya..." he whispered.

Moving over she pulled a chair over close to his. Facing him. Resting her hands over his. Maya had read a lot and studied old videos of Maya. She had her mannerism, speech, everything down to the finest detail. "Baby... They wouldn't let me come to you. I need you Jeb... I need you to fight this for me." The woman posing as Maya said.

The illusion was so real. She moved like his Maya. Talked like her. Touched him like her. "Maya.. please.. untie me.." he begged her, but he had the feeling she, who ever the hell she was, would rather cut off her own hands than let him loose.

"Baby.. I can't." She said then moved closer and kissed him and rested her face against his sweaty cheek. "You'll kill someone." She whispered. Maya caressed his gritty face and lifted his chin. "I never stopped loving you."

His hands pumped furiously, using the elbows to elevate his wrists as much as possible. "They're hurting me, Maya... torturing me.. I don't even know what the hell I'm supposed to have done.."

"Leave us!" Maya yelled as she watched the man and woman leave. She then moved the chair and straddled Baile's lap. Holding his head in her hands, her thumbs resting just under his jawline. "I can't baby... you have to help me... they're going to kill me Jeb."

Had they dressed him in a t-shirt then they would have seen the tension his arms were under. "You have to tell me Maya.. what is happening.."

"If you don't tell them what they want... they are going to kill me!" Maya said. "You have to help me... Save me, Jeb... please!" She begged.

"I can't tell them what I don't know for fucks sake, Maya!" He was telling the truth, but it didn't matter. He was buying time.

"Jeb... PLEASE!" She pleaded as the door opened and two men came in. One grabbed her and brought her to her feet. "JEB!" Maya pleaded.

With a deep growl the bonds came loose. It gave him just enough movement to put enough stress on the chains. He wasn't expecting them to break, but when they did he was just as surprised as the men. The only difference was he wasn't scared. He grabbed an ear on one of the men and pulled. Hard. Letting go of the torn off ear he got a hold of a fistful of hair, pulled the man close and crushed his windpipe with a single blow.

Maya screamed out and fell to the floor as she covered her head and trembled, knowing the two men were already dead and wondering why in hell no one had came in here cause of the video feeds. Maybe she could recover. "Jeb... Jeb."

She said standing up and hugging him and kissing him. "Oh god..." She said resting her forehead against his chest.

He touched her gently, caressing her hair. "I'm sorry, Maya.. I didn't mean to scare you.. " he kissed the top of her hair. They had done a good job. Really good. Hell, she even smelled like his Maya. "I wish this was real, Maya.. " he whispered to her. He doubted they would enter for yet another few seconds considering how afraid they seemed to be of him. What the hell had he done to make them so... jumpy?"

She looked up at him. He raised the goggles, and blinked fiercely for a second. Lances of hot fire bored deeply into his mind, making him scowl. When he looked her in the eyes her heart and stomach turned into a lump of ice. This man had no capacity for compassion or humanity. The two men on the

floor, one in his death throes and the other one crying in pain meant nothing to him. The woman from SI had explained to her not to feel compassion for him, not underestimate him. Had she? Probably.

They had spent countless of resources catching him, one of their actions being to find old records about the only person that had come close to his heart. She had been selected to make that person come alive. She probably knew more about Maya than anyone alive, including Baile, but no matter how much she had tried she had never understood what a intelligent and loving person as Maya had seen in the former marine.

Until now.

Now was too late. Too little too late. She had no idea how many had died over the years because of what he had become or how many had died catching him, but one thing she did know - she would be one of them.

He felt no tears burn in the corner of his eyes, only sorrow. He kissed her one last time on the head. "Vaya con dios, Maya.." He saw her close her eyes, bracing for what was to come.

Then he let her go. He had killed her once. No stranger, no plan, no god would make him do it again.

"Path to evolution - part ten"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC,
CO Furies Detachment

***********************

Walking past her he walked through the open door, feeling balanced for the first time since.. he couldn't remember when. Somehow what he saw outside didn't surprise him.

The stranger was waiting for him.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just tear your heart out with my bare hands..."

The stranger chuckled. The fucker actually chuckled. But when he saw Baile just kept watching him he fell silent.

"This is all inevitable. This is your punishment."

Baile raised an eyebrow. The lights slowly faded until nothing but darkness remained. "Punishment? What the hell for?"

"You entered a sacred ground.." the stranger began, but Baile interrupted him.

"Yeah, you already said that. mind telling me what the fuck I'm supposed to have done except crashing your little slumber party back there?"

The stranger seemed taken aback for a few brief moments. Killing the human for his insolence was out of the question. The punishment would be far worse than death. He reminded himself that the next part would provide great satisfaction for him as punishment continued. "We tried to greet you, sent the guardian of the chambers to communicate with you, but you killed it.."

"It had friggin tentacles for crying out loud and it came right at me! What the hell was I supposed to do? Wait until it turned me into a tentacle toyboy?" Baile sighed and threw his arms out to the sides, getting really tired of hearing that speech.

Ignoring the outburst the stranger continued. "You destroyed several important devices in the chamber."

Baile opened his mouth to deliver another smart mouthed comment with the intent of making the stranger loose the calmness he displayed. Suddenly his abdominal muscles contracted violently. A groan, equal parts surprise and pain, escaped him. Another muscle contraction bordering on severe cramp, this time to his lower back nearly forced him to his knees. The immunity to pain he had experienced earlier was only present in its absence. He stumbled sideways and crashed hard into the wall there.

His entire body hurt in a way he had never experienced before. It was like being torn apart from the inside. He felt his left thigh cramp up so bad he could feel the kneecap start to slide out of position. A thousand needlepricks assaulted his left arm before it went numb and hung useless by his side. He started sweating so fiercely he could feel the sweat break through the skin, drowning the t-shirt he wore in a matter of seconds. His heart beat violently in his chest, threatening to burst out. It contracted so violently he could actually hear the blood flow through his heart. The pain was overwhelming.

A strange fear of death, his own, that he had never experienced before flamed up inside of him. It gripped the remains of his very soul. He was dying. Each and every one of his instincts told him a tale of a dying body, a body being torn apart piece by piece. Terror settled down inside his mind. Hyperventilating. Fighting pain.

"Isn't it strange how a man so familiar with death is so scared of it?" the stranger said softly. Slowly he walked up to the human, or what was left of him. He was bleeding massively from his ears, nose and mouth as the violent spasms caused severe internal bleedings. It amused the stranger to see it all take place in front of him. To hear the pleads of a man so violent even the god of war looked away in disgust.

The man no one could kill.

The stranger allowed himself a cruel smile at the thought.

"Go.. to.. hell.." the marine gasped, no longer the master of his own body. A puppet on a string. His fingers clawed against the cold stone floor with such force born out of desperation he tore off several fingernails.

Shaking his head the stranger found himself slightly astonished by the definance the human showed. He simply refused to give in. But on the other hand his fear of dying was just as strong. A work of art. To live he had to move, but if he moved he died. Beautiful. "Violence.. your Great Answer to life. If it goes against you - kill it..." the stranger crouched down next to the thrashing remains of Baile. "But you can't help it, can you? It's who and what you are--- without conflict you are not whole."

Baile's screams filled the chamber, a haunted banshee, forever trapped in hate and vengeance. The world slowly faded until it contained two things to which he held on. The pain and the voice of the stranger.

"You are so afraid of dying you'll do anything to stay alive.. of course you don't see it that way.. no.." the stranger spoke with calm, but he had Baile's complete and involuntary attention. "You label it differently.. getting the job done at any cost or some nonsense like that... but deep down inside you know what I'm saying is the truth.. "

His entire body was failing, torn apart bby itself.

"Could it be," the stranger spoke in a low voice. In response Baile's screams muted. His body wanted him to hear this. Shut up shut up shut up! The dying man wanted nothing else but to silence the stranger forever - and hear what he had to say. "Could it be.." he repeated, "that you know what awaits you when you die? You've seen it, smelled it.. touched it.. and it terrifies you."

It was not an easy thing to have someone put words to something you had spent most of your adult life trying to ignore. It was irony. Great irony. Baile was a true killer. It was in him, a natural part of him. It wasn ot about murdering or wanting to kill - it was a feeling for it, like the painter having a feel for the canvas. In his hands death was the means to an end. His number two pencil. But he had seen what awaited, chaotic glimpses he had not understood. Until now. Oh yes. He was terrified of dying. Legions of demons waited for him. He did not know it, did not feel it. Did not see the scowl of defiance on his face.

"It can all end. All this pain. You know that. I'm not a cruel man, not like you. You understand death better than me and I'm much, much older than you, pinkskin.. " the stranger told him softly. "I can end it all.. just say it.. "

He could see on the human he would in fact rather die than say it. It made him chuckle mentally. The man would rather die than say he didn't want to die. That it scared him. A cruel smile formed on the unseen face of the stranger.

Just as Baile thought the pain couldn't get any worse it did just that. Round nine hundred and fifty two. He roared in pain, but his jaw cramped, closing his mouth shut so violently he nearly bit off his tongue.

Everyone has their limits no matter what they tell themselves or others. Vulcan, Klingon, Human, Romulan - they all had their limits. Baile was no exception. Maybe the pain lasted for a few minutes. Maybe a few years. It didn't matter. He broke.

"Make it stop... " He didn't scream it. He didn't say it. He didn't whisper it. He breathed it. It was all he could do. Blood ran from his nose and mouth, his tongue turned into a bloody pulp from the spasms.

The stranger tilted his head, looking at the dying human. "Make it stop how? Do you want to die?"

Another wave of pain wrecked the marine who had long since curled up in fetal position. "No... " he breathed again. Even the stranger had a hard time hearing it, the whispers of a dying man. "No dying..."

He had not expected the human to survive what was happening. It had been a possibility. Now it seemed a reality. Even now, hanging by his fingertips at the edge of the abyss the human fought. His survival instincts were like nothing the stranger had ever seen. Nature had not meant for this man to go down easy.

The human had asked to lived, no, not asked - begged, pleaded. Far from the aggressive warrior he had been just hours ago. Everyone had a limit. Even Baile.

Baile never saw the stranger touch him or felt the pain vanish like the frost on a warm spring morning. The darkness had long since engulfed him.

"Path to evolution - part eleven"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC,
CO Furies Detachment

Hydran Interrogator

Interrogation cell

****************

He felt like drowning, his lungs were on fire. He opened his eyes but found nothing but darkness around him, a thick clinging darkness, like tar.

Movement felt impossible, his limbs refusing to cooperate. Dead? -No, he decided furiously. He was NOT dead! If death wanted him then the fucker would have to fight for it. Then, just as sudden as he had begun to drown he could breathe again. He drew several greedy breaths, filling his lungs. Quickly he opened his eyes, blinking several times both at the sting in his eyes from the light and at the loss of the darkness around him.

Baile was sitting down on a chair. Furiously he stood up, but was restrained

by the strong bonds with which he was secured to the chair. With a surprised

look on his face he sat down. The surprise took away the blunt of his anger,

allowing him to look at his surroundings more closely. Yet once more he was in a room, tied to a chair with a table and two other chairs opposite it to keep him company. Slowly he began to laugh until his body shook with uncontrollable amusement. He was still alive.

The door, much larger than the one he had seen when SI had tried to interrogate him, opened up and a huge Hydran stepped inside. It spoke to him, sounding angry. Baile felt strange, not himself. Or at least not the self he was used to. He shook his head at the Hydran, still grinning.

"Barbie.. you've got to learn to take no for an answer.. "

Apparently the Hydrans had forgotten, or neglected the whole universal translator thing. He had a feeling the Hydran didn't like him. Didn't surprise him. He had not made many friends the last three years. "Damn... I got no words for how ugly you are.."

The Hydran scowled, at least Baile thought he did. With the same scowl in placed a strange device on the table, placed a massive finger on it and pressed down.

"... Understand me now, pinkskin?" it growled.

He was bruised. He was battered, but it was healing. He knew it, felt it. He

must have been out for a long time. Several scars covered his naked torso, indicating very physical interrogation. At the minimum. Still he couldn't help grinning. "No, but keep talking.. I'm hoping you'll swallow your tongue..."

"Every word not telling me what I want to know will be a word of regret." the Hydran warned him and slapped him hard with a massive hand. Leaning over the table it looked at Baile. "Is that understood?"

The marine's head snapped to the side. He could taste some blood in his mouth but that was nothing new. Slowly he rolled his head from side to side,

getting rid of the effects of the blow. Calmly he met the eyes of the Hydran, although his own was covered by goggles. "You hit like a girl, Charlie Brown.. "

The comment earned him another blow that made his ears ring, but the Hydran couldn't wipe the smug look off Baile's face. "What is your mission?" it repeated while mentally checking how many answers the human had given so far. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

"My mission? Make myself some Hydran bags.. " Baile replied with a chuckle. It ignored the comment, a comment like all the others. Disrespectful.

Annoying. "We know of the ship you came here with.. The crew you came here with has been asking a lot of questions."

So they were still alive. Still didn't tell him if they had left the planet or not. Hopefully they had. "Great.." he chuckled again. "Take me there so I

can kill the fuckers.."

"Why did you come here? Who sent you? What orders do you have?"

Shaking his head Baile grinned at the Hydran. "Bet you can't say that fast three times in a row.." Again it earned Baile another slap. It took him a few moments to realise his head was still attached to his body. "That all you got, Daffy?" he mocked the Hydran while spitting blood on the floor.

"We will take your crew into custody.. I warn you.."

Baile shrugged and licked the blood from his lips. It reminded the Hydran of

a predator native to the Hydran homeworld. For a fraction of a second he saw

the predator, a strong and powerful catlike animal, sitting where Baile was sitting.

"I've been with hookers that hit stronger than that.. "

The Hydran lost it. Plain and simple. For the last ten hours the human had done nothing but taunt and insult him. He had tried intimidating the human, tried sympathy, reason, anger and pain. His entire bloodline had been insulted by the man, down to details the human shouldn't know. So he did the

only thing left in his mind. He started beating the shit out of the insolent

prisoner.

Hydrans as a species was quite the impressive one, especially taking pure physical strength into account. Heavy blows landed on Baile, blows that if he had not been shackled would have sent him sliding across the floor. When he saw the first blow coming one thought, one single word went through his mind.

Shit.

It hit him like a golfclub should hit a golfball. Clean, dead on and with a good swing for power. Then the weird things started to happen. Baile had been into many fights over the years. He knew what it felt like to be knocked out, to be hit so hard by someone he had wished for it all to end right there. He figured that being hit by a Hydran came close to that.

He felt the blow alright. It rattled his skull, whipped his head to the right so fast it nearly went into warp. But there was no ticket to la-la land at the end of the line. He didn't crash into oblivion. A decent punch, nothing more. So the second thought formed, this time a few more words than before the punch. ~What the hell?!~ As a fighter he knew his limits, knew the exact amount of beating he could take and getting hit by a Hydran that didn't exactly pull the punch was definitely a partycrasher. Baile figured most

Vulcans and Klingons would go down as well. So why didn't he?

With the Hydran pummelling him it felt like being hit by a speeding train. Over and over again. But still he remained conscious. The pain from the blows was about as sexy as shaving the balls with rabies infected bullterrier, but his mind worked despite of it. It was as if the pain was registering but that was it. He felt it, and it did hurt, no doubt, but his mind still worked perfectly, not dulled or confused by what should be a roaring pain.

Despite it all he lost track of how many times he had been hit. It seemed like he could take a hell of a lot more beating than before, but everything has a limit. It was a strange feeling, - the body giving out before the mind did.

Then the door to the room opened and a harsh Hydran voice barked an order. Baile opened his eyes and saw one more Hydran. His interrogator bowed his head in obedience to the newcomer. Baile spat blood on the floor and looked up. "Don't stop on my account.. " he half-croaked, half-coughed. "I was starting to enjoy myself here.."

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra looked at the man from the vision. Crimson red blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. It looked like his assistant had gotten a bit.. irritated, but the human appeared to have taken everything that had been dished out without dying. He gave his assistant new instructions, ordering him out of the room. The interrogation was over. The Gods had honored him with a new vision. His head was still pounding badly after the message the vision had left him.

The whole scene confused Baile. The first Hydran wanted to smack him into a bloody pulp, but the newcomer seemed to either want him unharmed or take him

outside and shoot him.

Growling angrily Baile's interrogator obeyed the new instructions and released Baile from his bonds. Had he been unharmed, or at least less confused then the two Hydrans would have died, but he found the situation strange and his body was not yet ready to fight two adult Hydran warriors. Looking at it that way Baile chuckled. Something had definitely changed. He had never ever considered to take on a Hydran in hand to hand combat. Too big, too mean and too strong.

The newcomer grabbed his shoulder firmly. Translated to human terms that meant grabbing his shoulder and almost crushing it. The Hydran dragged Baile

along through several corridors. The first few minutes they walked past several other Hydrans, but after a while the corridors seemed empty. For every minute they walked Baile's body regained strength which both surprised

and scared him a little. During the course of a few minutes he had regained more strength than he normally did in just as many hours after a beating like that.

Weird only began to describe it.

"Path to evolution - part twelve - final part."

Lt Jebidiah Baile, SFMC,
Co Furies Detachment

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra, Hydran

Interrogation cell

****************

"I know you are a Federation spy." the Hydran told him suddenly. It was more

a statement of facts than it was an accusation.

What did the Hydran expect? That he'd break down and say 'oh yes masa.. forgive me masa.. '. Baile nearly snorted out loud in disgust. "And I'm the king of emotions.."

"Don't worry." the Hydran told him, whether to reassure him or trying to lure him into feeling safe Baile had no idea. Didn't matter. At the rate with which he was recuperating he would be fit for fight again in a matter of hours. "You are safe.. for now." When he saw the human frown he shook his

head. "I am not well-versed in this tragically limited language," he said in

a thick accent. "What I meant is no one will hurt you for now."

"That makes me feel so much better.." the marine replied sarcastically. The ache from the bruises was nothing but a dull ache now, like the bruises were

a day old rather than a few minutes. Weird didn't even begin to describe it.

"It was not meant to make you feel better." the Hydran replied and ended the

monologue that had turned into a conversation for a few seconds. "I know of the ship you came in."

Baile felt the Hydran let go of his shoulder, but it didn't seem as if the Hydran had decided that 'safe for now' just ended. Part of him felt a bit disappointed. Going up against a Hydran would have been quite interesting. The other part of him that had just been beaten from the lower parts of hell

and back felt relieved there was no violence in sight. For now anyway. But the more the Hydran waited the stronger he would become and Baile had the nagging feeling the Hydran knew about it. "Whooptidoo.. lucky you.."

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra watched the human carefully. He realised he had been wrong earlier. The man wasn't a killer in the common sense of the word. No, he was

an artist, pain being his inspiration and death his art. "I will show you the way out of here. After that you are on your own."

He stopped mid step, almost falling when his brain had finally processed the

words from the Hydran. "Help me? C'mon.." Baile sighed loudly. "Give me some

damn credit.. if you guys are going to lure me into a trap then for fucks sake be more subtle about it."

At times the gods truly tested one's faith. B'Tga'Mlak'Ra was sure this was one such time. "This is no trap, human..."

"No, it's just the biggest Baile buttfuck in the history of buttfucking.." the marine grumbled. "Bertha.. the suspense is going to kill you.. tell me what the hell you want.."

The huge Hydran stopped and turned to face the human. He watched the human lift the goggles that protected his eyes, finding himself meeting a pair of eyes that seemed to devour the faint light that hit them. B'Tga'Mlak'Ra took

a step back before he could stop himself. The gods truly tested him. It was certainly not a human. Eyes of a predator and the soul of a killer. If B'Tga'Mlak'Ra said the wrong thing then the creature in front of him would kill him. He was old, he was still strong, but instinctively he knew he would loose against the man in front of him. Lying would most likely get him killed as well. Truth on the other hand might make others kill him.

The gods did test him indeed.

"You will die someday, everything does, but it will not be by my hand, not today at least." he told Baile who in turn sighed. "Another bloody Yoda.." When he saw the Hydran look at his with some confusion he waved a hand. "Nothing.. You were telling me something, Polly.."

What was with this man and names? The Hydran then reminded himself that the.. human.. didn't know his name which was for the best. "You are marked by the Gods and I'm their instrument to make sure you get out of.."

Baile blinked and shook his head. "Your gods? What the hell have you been smoking, Bella?" he interrupted the Hydran.. Taken from torture by the hands

of a religious nut. Silently Baile wondered if the torture was still available. It would surprise the hell out of the Hydrans if he went back.

"Yes. The Gods wants you out of here. I do not know why. Gods do not need to

explain themselves to us mortals." the old Hydran spoke gently, although the

thick accent ruined part of it.

"The gods demands it?" Baile asked and raised an eyebrow then shrugged. "But

hey... if the Gods wants me out of here then who am I to say no?.. but just tell me.. these.. gods.. do they like speak to you?"

The Hydran shook his head. "No, they show me things. Visions of things to come"

~That's just peachy.. I'm rescued by an hallucinating bugeye.. Now I know you hate me, God..~ Baile sighed inside. This was turning out to be one hell of a recon mission. "Let's go then, Cinderella.. can't keep the Gods waiting, can we?"

The Hydran gave him a sharp look. "I said the Gods showed me visions, not that I was mentally challenged."

Baile shrugged as he walked past the towering Hydran. "Same thing, baby.. same thing.."

The Hydran did guide him out through the complex using tunnels Baile would never have found on his own. They stopped at a door which the Hydran claimed

led to the storm drains and from there he could reach the traders spaceport a long as he kept in the shadows. Baile was genuinely surprised when the Hydran handed him a backpack containing all of his equipment - coat, guns, knives, communicator - the works. "Bubba.. I could kill you right here right now if I wanted."

B'Tga'Mlak'Ra nodded as the human tied the laces on his boots. "Yes you could. If that is what the Gods have in mind then it will happen no matter what I feel about it."

"What do you feel about it then?" Baile asked him in an emotionless voice.

"I have seen many things and lived through many years. I hope to see a few more before my time is up."

Baile just nodded. "Good answer, Sparky" The gun slid into the holster and he turned to the Hydran. "We will never know if you saved my life or not. Maybe Junior back there would have fucked up and I could have escaped. Doesn't really matter. You took me here and for that I owe you, but if we meet again as hostiles I will kill you Hydran, but I'll do what I can to make it painless and quick."

The Hydran nodded. A promise from one warrior to the other. "I expected nothing less, human. If we meet again then I will kill you, painless and quick."

The marine grinned, both in amusement and respect. "Going to be a lot of killing done that day then."

"And the days leading up to it." the Hydran finished, watching the human or whatever the Gods had made him into, open the door. The drains on the other side contained two things - water and darkness. He saw Baile remove the goggles again, looking back at him one last time before heading out into the

darkness. There was no need to warn Baile for the things that lived in the drains. It was the things living there that could have used a warning for what was coming.

Standing still for a few seconds he kept looking at the darkness. Shaking his head to break the trance he turned around and left the scene, heading for the surface again.

Up the evolutionary ladder.

"Times Like These"

Ensign Kiel
Apprentice Counselor, USS Galaxy

Location: Free Jem'Hadar Colony (during the Great Purge)
Soundtrack: "Frail" by Jars of Clay

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

Emerging from out of a classroom, the Jem'Hadar soldier stepped into the hallway, his eyes cutting down to either side of the corridor as he turned his head, his rifle held at the ready. Whispers mingled with the sound of scraping feet, as the remaining children in the school scurried about in their vain attempts to escape the genocidal tendencies of their self-righteous executioners. What need had the universe for demons and devils, when greater were the monsters forged of human hands than all the circles of Dante's Inferno? Not that the soldier was thinking any such thoughts. He had a mission in his mind. It was strictly that. Orders to be followed. The sanctity of soldier's thoughts which perhaps shielded his conscience from crying out at the wanton slaughter of the children.

Turning into a bathroom set off the hallway in which he now strode, the soldier smirked faintly as he found he had cornered a group of the fledgling abominations there at the far end of the room. Leveling his polaron rifle, he took a step inside as he fingered the trigger...

And then hit the floor.

Adrenaline was really a remarkable thing, Kiel thought to himself, heaving the shovel in his arms as he gazed from its broad head to the head of the Jem'Hadar. A welt was already beginning to form at the back of the skull, where the El Aurian had struck the warrior rather forcibly. Apparently enough to take the fight out of him for a minute. Which would be time enough to secure an escape. Still, staring down at the shovel in his arms and the man on the floor, Kiel had to ask himself what he was doing. "And the cycle of violence continues," the youth mused to himself, dropping the shovel as he knelt down beside the soldier and began to strip him of his weapons. The rifle he passed to one of the older children, a teen by all appearances, while the warrior's knife he passed to the next oldest - who was very much still a child - but what choice did he have? If they were to survive, they had to be equipped with the tools to secure at least a chance for themselves.

The soldier's pistol he had been about to pass, when he thought otherwise of it and instead tucked the Jem'Hadar weapon into the waistband on his trousers at the small of his back, where his now dusty black jacket concealed it. He couldn't believe that he'd actually struck someone, no matter the cause, much less pull the trigger on a gun. But he wondered for how much longer he'd be able to retain such principles. He'd be no good to these children dead. And to preserve their lives, it might be necessary to take another.

A curious equation. Was one life worth the life of another? Were two lives more valuable than one? Was killing ever justified, or were the reasons merely an excuse with which to further promulgate the violent tendencies that seemed to come hand-in-hand with sentience?

Could he... kill?

Sliding over by the door, Kiel peered out into the hallway, his hazel eyes clouded with the thoughts which tumbled around in his mind. If the glass shards under his skin weren't irritating enough, he thought it would be a wonderful thing to just be able to cease cognition for awhile and not have to entertain a thousand and one terrifying thoughts which tripped many a merry moral debate and further confused an otherwise clear situation.

They were in danger. And they needed to keep moving.

Ducking low, the young El Aurian crept out of the bathroom, reaching back with one arm to motion and usher the children to move quickly. The thunder of polaron cannons echoed outside, explosions rocking the building. Whatever had begun as a slaughter of the helpless had apparently devolved into an all out war outside. He certainly hoped no one else from the Galaxy was caught in the crossfire, knowing all too well that his away team hadn't been the only ones there on the planet. The minutes had stretched themselves into hours, though Kiel had long since ceased caring about the time or how much of it had passed. Every second was an eternity. And in the carnage around them, something to be cherished. For there was no way to know what the next would bring.

He trailed behind as the group he managed to muster together from underneath the notice of the patroling genocide squads headed down the corridor. Shelter was a rather fickle concept. It seemed these 'real' Jem'Hadar were everywhere. Kiel had wanted to do a cultural comparison between these free Jem'Hadar and their more infamous brethren... but this was a little overkill. Literally.

As he passed one classroom, he spied a small body sprawled out on the floor amid overturned desks and chairs. Creeping side quietly, the youth slid his jacket off, using it as a pall with which to cover the still form of a young Jem'Hadar boy. "The world's more full of weeping than you can understand," Kiel whispered quietly, resting a hand on the body for a moment as he gave a sigh and then glanced back to the door.

He couldn't make a difference for this child. But there were others... Drawing the pistol that he'd removed from the Jem'Hadar earlier, he made his way back out into the hall. And went in search of those whose hopes lay among the hopeless.

"Killing Time"

Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment,
USS Galaxy

****

The bowels of the ship
USS Galaxy

The sound of booted feet echoed in the hallway, the only sounds that could be heard, bar the grunts and deep breathing of the owner of said boots and the quiet resonance of the Galaxy III Engines. As far from a symphony as you could get. But that was just what was warranted, given the circumstances. His commanding officer had been captured along with the captain and other members of the crew. Sure they had tried to mount a rescue mission, but he hadn't been a part of it. No, he had to go off and rescue some foolish Jem'Hadar child who had stupidly fallen down a shaft in a formerly used mine.

With the hour being late, the middle of Delta shift, there was no one around. But that was fine. It was better that way, Especially with what he had to do shortly. The thought of what he was required to do sent a shiver down his spine. It always did, every time he did it. He hated that part of the process but was resigned to carry it out. It was something that had to be done.

Not that the different shifts mattered to a Marine. They were on duty when required and had additional training requirements that meant longer hours than normal Navy personnel. Though, coming back from the planet with the Jem'Hadar had given the Marines the need to train harder. He had heard of many instances of where Marines and Navy personnel had been ambushed or openly attacked by the rouge faction that had existed in the settlements. Some of the Marines had been complacent with their personal security while on the surface of the planet and the Sergeant Major was looking to make some changes. No doubt the CO would be instigating changes as well. They were going to be in for some interesting times.

He had been running for about fifteen minutes and had only really begun to sweat profusely in the last few minutes. He could feel the sweat dripping down his neck and soaking the top of the tank top he was wearing. His legs ached from the strain of the long run, a buildup of Lactic Acid some would say, despite the fact that that Lactic Acid wasn't what caused the pain in your muscles during exercise. Far from it, Lactic Acid was what gave the muscles the energy to expand and contract. And yet they still ached. And on he ran.

The tank top clung tightly to his well muscled torso. Hours of time spent training and exercising had graced him with the fit, muscled body he now sported. Ever since he had joined the Marines he had strived to keep as fit as possible. He firmly believed that he was in a condition to be able to outlast almost every other person on the crew of the Galaxy if he was required to. Not that he was or had been required to so far. And hopefully wouldn't need to. But you never knew when you would need to.

A beautiful blonde in the Yellow of Engineering walked round the corner towards him. Her radiant golden locks fell about her shoulders like a waterfall. She had the most amazing blue eyes. The sort that seemed to pull you in, not wanting to let you go. And her smile. You couldn't go past a great beaming smile. He had seen her in his many running sessions, walking these halls, no doubt fixing things. "Morning." He said, nodding to her in greeting.

"Afternoon actually." She replied, giggling slightly.

This was repeated every time they saw each other in the halls. I guess you could call it a ritual. After the third or fourth such meeting, Jonas had asked her out. Sadly, she had replied that she was married to a guy in Tactical; needless to say, Jonas had thought of the guy as one hell of a lucky bastard.

On he ran.

****

Some time later
The bowels of the ship
USS Galaxy

Sweat dripped from his body in waves now. It had been over an hour since he had started and his body felt sore. The joints ached, the muscles twitched, the lungs burned with each breath he drew. That was enough for today. Heck that was enough for the week. Besides, Jonas had other things to do today other than killing himself with exercise. There were training sessions with the unit, a debriefing session with the other officers, a report on the potential expansion of the Marine barracks that needed to be completed, the Friday poker game and of course the meeting with Lieutenant London. Psychological evaluation they called it. Messing with one's mind is what he always called it. Still, having not had one since joining the Galaxy, it was kinda mandatory. He wouldn't have gone otherwise.

"Computer, what is the time?" Jonas enquired.

=/\= The time is 0850 hours =/\=

Shit. The meeting was in a few minutes. He'd have to rush if he was to shower in time.

Jonas picked up the pace and headed for the turbolift.

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