"The Day The Music Died"

Vaebn (NPC)

RNI Operative

****

Ra'tleihfi

ch'Rihan

****

Branak stood at the bar, looking at his reflection in the large door to a fridge, gently plucking at the blood on his clothes, and the occasional brush of a hand through his hair. Though not a vain man, Branak always liked looking respectable. An old mentor had often repeated a mantra and it had stuck with him through thick and thin.

'Always look your best. You never know when an opportunity will occur'

Vaebn stood watching his old friend, a look of disbelief on his face. How could anyone be so concerned with their appearance when large numbers of Hydran soldiers were running amok on ch'Rihan, having recently killed everyone in the night club. He shook his head. "When will you ever learn, Branak?"

The businessman looked up and grinned. "Never, my old friend. Even as we stand amongst the dead bodies of my former employees and patrons, I am unable to turn away from it. Just like you. In times of trouble, we turn to what we know best. That IS why you are here, right Vaebn?"

Vaebn nodded. "I am in trouble and need your help."

"What happened?" Branak asked as he picked up an unbroken bottle of Rihannsu Ale. He quickly poured himself a glass and waved the bottle at Vaebn who nodded in response.

"I was deployed on a mission and upon return was arrested for 'treason'. A preposterous claim, one of which I am completely innocent." Vaebn replied as he drank the offered beverage. "They tortured me and I finally escaped to find Ra'tleihfi in flames as the Hydrans attacked."

"That sounds horrific." Branak said after a pause. "Here for supplies?"

Vaebn nodded.

"Come!" The grey haired Rihanna stated, before heading for the steps that would take him up to his office.

Vaebn placed the empty glass on the bar and followed his friend upstairs.

"It is regrettable that the situation is as dire as it is, so I hope what I have is of suitable use to you old friend." He pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and a panel opened up behind him, revealing an array of weapons, most of which were not readily accessible on ch'Rihan.

Eyeing up the weapons, Vaebn nodded eagerly. "There are one or two items I see that will come in handy." He replied.

Branak went to say something else, but a beep from his terminal drew his attention. "Two of them... Entering the building. And they are Rihanna." He stated simply after checking the feed.

Vaebn nodded and handed him one of the weapons from the now open panel.

Branak waved it off. "You know how I am with weapons."

Vaebn just nodded. He had known Branak for many years, dating back to their time together during military training. In fact, he had been one of the very few people he had told about his survival after the fire. "Be careful!"

"Always, Vaebn. Always."

Vaebn walked over the to the window and watched through the one way glass that made up one wall of his friend's office as Branak made his way over to the other flight of stairs and up to the antechamber. From his vantage point, he could see Branak stop and begin conversing with someone, though the wall blocked all but a couple of hands that were waving about erratically, no doubt trying to emphasize whatever the Rihanna was trying to say. Branak seemed to argue back and the hands lowered from view but for a moment before returning with a disruptor in hand.

Branak's hands flew up in surrender and after a few moments he could be seen to shake his head. Vaebn could do nothing as the hand holding the disruptor fired, sending it's deadly charge deep into Branak's chest, killing him instantly. He slammed his hand down on the table in anger. And then the two Rihana walked into view and Vaebn shivered. It was the two from the roadblock with the Deltan.

He had been so careful and yet they had somehow managed to follow him.

"Nor the Battle to the Strong"

OR

"Lament for Icarus, Act II, Scene 3"

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes

Commanding Officer, USS Icarus

Et. Al.

Hell was an unpleasant place, Juan Holmes had decided. This fine ship, this fine crew - they had weathered more battles than almost any other vessel in the fleet, and nothing could quite compare to the carnage that surrounded them now. Allia was having to use all of her skills just to keep the ship from crashing into any of the numerous pieces of rather large debris that littered the sky over ch'Rihan. Meanwhile, half the consoles on the bridge were smoking, the viewscreen was barely operable, Durden was screaming up at them through the commlink to Engineering, and the Captain himself was bleeding profusely from the forehead.

"Juan, portside torpedo launch reports blockage - that's both broadside tubes down," Commander Khoma reported from secondary tactical. At the XO's feet, two medics worked feverishly to stabalize the severely injured Lieutenant Therrien, who had been manning that console up until two minutes prior.

At primary, Gavyn Hughes struggled to remain standing while another Hydran salvo struck the ship. "We're also losing functionalty to the CIWS system - Hydran bombers are starting to get through our flak field."

Holmes nodded, fighting off the dizziness that such an action caused. He hgad long since lost track of the over-all battle - for the first time in his career - and was merely concerned with keeping his ship intact and crew alive. So far, he wasn't exactly doing a great job of it.

The direct links crackled to life, and a voice came over the intercom, "Bridge, CIC, we've just lost two more fighters, no beacons. Shadows Two and Three are ditching, and Commander Norax reports that her squadrons are now scattered."

"Tell all fighters to regroup abeam of the Valdore," Holmes replied, taking a look at the Tactical overlay showing where Icarus' fighters lay, "Give support to Donatra's main group. Lieutenant Londar, any word from our ground units?"

The blue-skinned comm officer didn't even look away from his console. "Nothing, Captain. Last word was a quick burst from Lieutenant ch'Nelitas saying that Captain Gaarval was down and that our Hazard Team had been separated from the Marine company. Nothing since, but..."

It was the last thing the poor Benzite ever said, as three burst-shots slammed into the Icarus' ventral plating, and the portside consoles blew. The two science officers, Kaufman and al-Rashek, got clear. Londar didn't. He went flying backwards, landed with a sickening crunch, and stopped moving. Lieutenant Commander Al-Rashek scrambled to his boss' still form to make sure she was alive; no one bothered with Londar - the pool of blue blood and the unnatural angle of his limbs made such a gesture meaningless.

Holmes tried hard not to vomit. The October First attacks hadn't been this bad - during that, he really hadn't had the time to notice what was happening. This time, it was simple for him to notice that a third of his crew was down, and he'd lost over a dozen fighters.

On the viewscreen, he watched as the Concorde and Hood swept past in perfect formation - a miracle in and of itself, under the circumstances - to defend the Miranda... and promptly be annihilated by over-whelming firepower. Just like that, not only had they lost another ship, but the central-control point for the fleet's fighter units vanished.

As the Concorde went up in a fireball, Tara Reynolds' face flashed in front of Holmes' field-of-vision. "Someone find me the ships that fired those shots. Helm plot intercept courses, one at a time."

The order was irrational as hell; such individualized vengeance didn't really make sense here, and the Icarus was a long way from those vessels, but no one thought to question him. It really wasn't worth it. They just followed his orders, and in moments, the ship was bearing down on a Hydran cruiser that wasn't really expecting an attack from that quarter. Its crew had little time to register this new threat before they ceased to register anything at all.

The scene replayed itself two more times, and as the raging Icarus swung around to bear on her fourth victim, a new level of pandemonium broke loose.

"Captain!"

Holmes was never sure who said it first, but no one really had time to give a real report. His ship was pointed directly at the Miranda when the Starbeast appeared out of warp, and he watched in horror as the larger starship went spinning wildly away. He lept to his feet, ignoring the desire his body had to immediately fall to the ground. "Intercept Miranda; prepare the tractor beam."

As Allia followed his order, 'Commander Elaithin looked at him in horror, voicing the thought that everyone else was having. "Captain, Miranda is twice our size! We do what you're thinking, and we'll be lucky not to be torn to pieces!"

The half-breed said nothing, but just responded with a hard state, and the Bajoran Operations Manager just turned back to her console, preparing the tractor beam for what she knew was suicide. Rational thought wasn't welcome on the bridge this day.

The Icarus plunged through the fray, heading for the out-of-control Miranda, and when she was within range, Holmes braced himself, hoping his crew would do the same - there was little time for warnings. "Activate tractor beam; engines full reverse!"

With the grace of a swan, Icarus swooped down upon the wounded behemoth of a starship, and activated her tractor beam to stop the uncontrolled spin that Miranda had entered.

The occupants of the Miranda probably never felt a thing. Lieutenant Commander Elaithin was right; the Icarus was no match for the laws of physics.

Throughout the ship, people were thrown, consoles exploded, hull opened to space, and general chaos reigned. The tractor beam blew completely, taking a good chunk of the surrounding hull with it. In the CIC, the entire communications team found themselves being thrown forward by the exploding status displays behind them. Most didn't survive. In Engineering, Jakob Durden watched helplessly as one of his assistants flew over the railing to her death at the bottom of the core many decks down, and several others fell all over the three-story chamber.

Of the nearly two-dozen people on the bridge, nearly a third were dead, and none were uninjured. Smoke was everywhere, obscuriung all vision. Only 'Commanders Elaithin and Allia remained seated at their posts, and both were bleeding copiously. For the first time ever, Commander Khoma was on the floor, trying to stand. Commander Hughes had been knocked unconcious, and Captain Holmes...

Ares Khoma coughed violently, trying to see through the smoke to where he had last seen his friend and Captain standing. All he could see now was the two women at the forward consoles. Everything was obscured, even the floor. Struggling to his feet and stumbling forward, he called out, "Report!"

Somewehre in the mist, he heard 'Commander Elaithin spouting numbers, many of which he couldn't really hear over the din. He struggled to get closer to her voice...

And promptly found himself once again spread ingloriously on the floor. He had tripped over something - or more likely, someone. Crawling through the smoke, he tried to get a glimpse of who it was.

He immediately recoiled in horror. Lying on the floor, unmoving, blood flowing freely from his body, was Captain Holmes.

A medic shoved him aside, ignoring her own injuries to tend to the dying Captain. Ares felt hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to his feet. He looked up into the eyes of 'Commander Knight. The younger man stared at him with fire, and the message was clear; he too had served this ship for a long time, but now was not the time. Ares took hold of himself and nodded, tentatively climbing the step to the Captain's chair.

He stared at it for one presious second, then turned and sat. "Helm, try to bring us alongside Typhon. Last I saw, she was still in fair shape, and we could use the help staying alive. Somebody see if you can't find a Defiant-class or something to watch our exposed flank. Mr. Knight, take tactical. Plot a solution for..."

"Commander?"

He looked over his shoulder to Knight. "Talk to me, Tom."

It was then that he noticed the Strategic Operations Officer had gone white. "Commander Norax is dead, Ares. We've lost a total of nineteen fighters out there..."

Elaithin's voice chimed in. "It gets worse, Commander. I'm getting word from Miranda." She turned, tears welling in her eyes. "Captain Summers is dead. The fleet is being ordered to retreat."

Ares felt cold terror grip his heart. Fleet? What fleet? What was left. His eyes fell on his old friend still lying on the forward deck, struggling to survive, like so many others on the ship. Khoma breathed deeply, and didn't respond. He knew all eyes were on him; he merely nodded.

Allia gave a terse, "Aye," and the Icarus used what she had left to enter warp, leaving the carnage behind. And still, her captain fought for his life; as long as he survived, so too would his ship.

"Napulan Romuparte"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete

Assistant Chief of Science - USS Miranda

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

A mental hospital, somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

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

Era had taken to helping out wherever she could. She'd assisted in getting the computers online, at least partially, although communications were still down. She'd lent a hand distributing food to the refugees who'd taken up residence on the southern side of the building and had even volunteered to help the staff keep the place at least nominally clean.

Today she was going for a more sedate activity, talking with the patients. Tir'len had suggested that sometimes, all the patients needed to start healing was a ready ear.

Era circled the room once, looking for someone who didn't look like they'd start crying or yelling. It was tough, given where she was. At last, she picked a small table at which a Romulan man sat. "Hello. May I join you?"

"Sacre bleu madamoiselle!" The Romulan in a paper hat with one hand perpetually under the fold of his shirt blurted out. Forget the fact the tone of his skin was all wrong, or that he was on the wrong planet, and had pointed ears from the wrong species, but nonetheless this modern day reincarnation of Napoleon Bonaparte spoke in fluent French, even with a tell tale Corsican accent. Someone had definitely done their homework. "Did they not inform you it was improper to sneak upon a gentleman unannounced?"

Tir'len had three words of advice for situations like this: run with it. So Era did. "My deepest apologies, monsieur," she dredged up the French word from her time at the Academy. "I found your presence overwhelmed my recollection of etiquette."

He seemed to take that as a satisfactory explanation, and nodded his consent. "That is understandable my dear, many of the fairer sex have fallen in a similar fashion. By all means, allow me." He pulled a seat out for her, a futile gesture given the chairs were bolted to the floor, but gallant nevertheless. "Tell me, has news reached Paris of the Egyptian campaign?"

The gesture, however comical, was somehow charming in its own right.

"I believe it ended with remarkable success." Era tried to recall who he reminded her of. Someone she'd read about, at some point... "Your conquest of the Egyptians is assured."

In actual history, that was far from the truth. Napoleon's army was actually destroyed as a fighting force... even if Napoleon himself escaped to tell a different story. But who would admit to such a loss anyway? "Very good! With all the turmoil in France some good news is good to offer."

"If there is such trouble at home, why wage war so far away?" Some French ruler, Era had gotten that far. Louis? There were a lot of men named Louis in France. It was a safe bet. Not a few of them had even gone to war. Era wondered why this Romulan had selected such a distinctly Terran persona.

"It is not for a solder to decide where to wage war my dear, simply how to win it." The Romulan grinned more broadly. "When I finally return to France, I will present my report to King Louis himself."

The cogs of Era's mind turned. This wasn't Louis then. Some general.

Richelieu? No, he'd been a cardinal. Mazarin? No, not him either. Who else was a famous frenchman? "Napoleon?" she guessed hesitantly. Her mind flipped through her lecture notes on Terran history. Hadn't he come to power after Louis was killed?

"But of course mademoiselle... do not tell me the stories of my exploits have spread under a pretender's name?"

Era tried to keep her face straight. "No. Certainly not. I am sure your deeds will live on for generations, making you inf- famous."

"Quite rightly my dear, quite rightly." He stood up, offering the hand 'not'

tucked into the over-lap of his shirt. "Let us be portraited!"

"Just call me Josephine," she couldn't help but say as she stood and, gingerly, took his hand.

"Ahh Josephine, a truly marvelous name for a truly wondrous woman! So tell me Josephine, what news have you of France?"

Era again thumbed through her notes. "The provinces are restless, but is that not always the way with peasants and farmers?"

"Under the reigns of ineffective government that can not provide the needed sustenance or honor of a nation as grand as the French Empire should be."

"Uhmm... right." Era felt the conversation was about to run away with her and she dearly wanted off. Talking theories of government to a Romulan with a Napoleon dementia did not strike her as an appealing way to spend the afternoon. "I don't suppose you'll be going off on campaign anytime soon?"

"Of course my dear, an Army must be lead from the front!" The Romulan barked with such adamancy one could only be left thinking he sincerely believed in what he was saying. "I will not only defend France against her enemies, I will bring French culture to all of Europe.

You will see my dear, I will make you proud to be French again!"

"Well, when it's safe to be proud again, I'm sure you'll let me know."

Era gently withdrew her hand from his grasp. "But I believe our portrait is at last complete and I am sure you have battles to plan.

Surely no place for a woman."

"Not of your stature I'm afraid." He grabbed her shoulders, placing enthusiastic kisses on each cheek. "Godspeed to you my dear, and send word to his royal highness that all is well!"

Era nodded that she would and hurried away. "Poor man," she murmured to herself. "Thinks he's Napoleon and has his facts wrong."

"Ruminations"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete

Assistant Chief of Science - USS Miranda

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

A mental hospital, somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

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

Era lay with her head on a blank computer terminal, muttering to herself.

"If this were the Miranda, I'd begin with Personal Log.. guess some habits are hard to break.

"I've reached some kind of truce with Tir'len. The fighting near here is still bad enough that I don't feel confident emerging for long, not without even a phaser at my side. Perhaps if I had Jaal's daring, or For'kel's training...

"I hope Jaal's okay. I'm sure he's worried about me, but wherever the Miranda is, I'm sure it's in enough trouble to keep him distracted. I just hope he comes through it all right.

"And Bery. Being pregnant with a war breaking out can't be good for the baby, nevermind the mother. At least For'kel's with her.

"I'm trying to keep my mind distracted. I spent the afternoon working on the hospital's computer system. If this were a hardware problem I'd be of no use, but it's more about retrieving the data now that some of the power has been restored. Even so, I'm no whiz with it and trying to read Romulan cold has left me with multiple headaches. Luckily, this system is an older one.

"Supplies are running low. The replicators don't have much power left to them, no matter how we try to hotwire them. Again, they're older models. A lot of their efficiency has died with the stress of years of uninterrupted use. They're mostly getting worn down by having to produce the basics - like water. A water pipe must have been hit my first night here. I can't really blame the Public Works Department for not rushing to the scene. This hospital likely gets left off a lot of maps.

"I'm trying to stay busy, to keep myself occupied with anything.

"Because there's too much to think about."

"Recovery"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom

USS Miranda

Aello glanced over at Jaal. Aello was sure he'd told her things would be okay. She nodded numbly. "Things are stable," she reported, "but it's going to be a long time before they're anywhere near 'okay.'"

"Any sign that we're being followed?"

Aello shook her head, "Long range sensors are offline at the moment."

Jaal nodded tersely. He caught a glance of the inert form of Captain Summers out of the corner of his eye before moving to his next task.

Next he called Dawson over the comm. Before Jaal could ask the question, in typical 'miracle-worker' fashion, Jack answered, "I know what the priorities are Commander and we've already started the repairs. I'll update you as soon as there's progress."

Jaal let a small smile grace his lips. Dawson had been around the Miranda long enough to not need specific instructions. "I won't hold you up any longer then."

The Trill commander moved over to Dakota Harris' domain. "Contact the others ships in the fleet. Find out what our losses are and what kind of shape the rest of the ships are in. Also, I want to send a report to command. They need to know what happened."

A simple "Aye sir," was her reply.

He went over to the science consoles where Spaan was working to restore the ship's sensor capabilities. "Spa'an, did you get any detailed readings of the spacebeast?"

The Miranda's science officer responded with typical Vulcan aplomb, "The sensors were set to record everything. Whether or not those records survived the attack isn't known yet. The power fluctuations may have damaged some of the files."

Jaal nodded, "I want you to work with Tactical. I want to know what that thing is made of so we can come up with a plan to kill it. It's not gonna beat us again."

Finally, the turbolift doors swished open. A medical team emerged with an anti-grav gurney. The team quickly made their way to where Anjoli was waiting. Jaal paused to watch them move the lifeless body onto the gurney and power it up. Summer's body floated into the air supported by the device. Doctor D'Bari gracefully covered the body with a white sheet.

Jaal's stomach twisted inside. Captain Summers had been a good man and the Trill wished he'd the chance to get to know him better. He wondered how Aello was taking the loss. Summers and Aello had been close serving together on the Anchorage for many years. There was no time to check now. Jaal was confident in Erigone's professionalism under fire.

The long list of friends lost in the Dominion War scrolled past in Jaal's mind like the credits at the end of a movie. How he managed to survive still baffled him. Havras had obviously been the first strike in the Trill's mind. He suspected that incident was used to gauge the Federation's strength and willingness to fight. Now he supposed this was the enemies' next step. Instead of chancing that the Romulan Empire would side with the Federation defeat them now take them out of the equation. Who would be next if the combined forces of the Romulan Navy and Starfleet couldn't drive the Hydran forces back?

Jaal sighed sadly as he stepped up to the auxillary library station.

There was still one more thing to do before going on. "Computer, recognize Commander Jaxom, Jaal, access code …" His code was a complicated string of Trill numbers and greek letters ending with his family name.

"Commander Jaxom, Jaal, recognized," the computer replied emotionlessly.

"I am taking command of this vessel, USS Miranda, registry NCC seven, seven, zero zero zero, beta as per Starfleet regulation…" He spoke the rest almost automatically. He sounded as emotionless as the computer but his insides were tightening by the minute. Other things crept into the background of is mind.

Era and other friends were still on Romulus. Were they dead? Were they alive? Captured? There was no doubt in Jaal's mind they would get to go after them but there was a lot of work to be done before that could happen.

Jaal finished a supplementary log entry just in time to receive Dawson's first report from Main Engineering. "We've got life support stabilized on all decks. We'll have phasers back online in approximately four hours. Shields will take longer."

"You're doing great, thanks Jack. Bridge out."

The Miranda's recovery was going fine.

If only the same thing could be said of her captain.

"Meanwhile, Down In The Operations Center"

Ensign Janeen Jaxom

The fires had finally been put out and people were starting to repair the charred consoles and other equipment.

Someone had asked Janeen if anyone from engineering would be coming by to lend a hand. "I doubt it," she answered opening up an access panel only to burn her hand on the still warm metal, "Engineering has enough on their plate. This area is up to us." She sucked on her finger a bit then returned to pulling out roasted isolinear chips that would need to be replaced.

How she managed to end up the ranking officer in the Operations Center was still beyond her. The newly, field promoted woman had no time to worry about it either.

When she first joined Starfleet she knew the dangers. She'd heard enough of the stories her older brother and his ex-wife spoke of on many occasion. She knew there was always the possibility of injury and even death right around the corner. Space was a dangerous place even when the political climate was peaceful.

However, when she saw the Hydrans starbeast on the monitor Janeen felt she was looking death right in the eye.

It was stuff of nightmares.

Of course, there was no way to expect the thing to be fuzzy and cuddly.

No time to worry about it now though. Someone on the other side of the room had popped open a panel only to be greeted by flames licking violently outward at a new source of oxygen.

Their shout caught everyone's attention. Janeen and two others rushed over with portable fire extinguishers and quickly put out the small blaze.

"...Far from over"

--or, the battle from the CIC perspective

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda
Lietuenant jg Chris Daniels, Tactical Officer USS Miranda CIC staff

Command Information Center, Deck 7, USS Miranda

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

[K'aa to the Captain! Emergency situation to port!], the Gorn's strong voice overpowered the klaxons even over the intercom. [The Concorde isss being outflanked by targersss Gamma Four through Ten!

Hydran targersss approaching on vector one-eight-nine to the Concorde's fore-port ssshielding - Fusssion Beamss are charging...]

The reptilian's report to the bridge was drowned out as almost every alarm in the CIC chimed to report the collapse of the Concorde's shields. Rather than quiet down, the klaxons only grew on pitch and volume.

"Critical strikes on the Hood's port-aft shield! She's got severe internals to engineering, decks seven through nine showing breaches!

Escape pods are away - they're evacuating!"

From the fleet control station, Chris was watching as his technicians deftly set the screens and holo-table to show the battle. It was starting to get ugly.

"K'aa!" He yelled over the din. He was miked up to the bridge so Shia and Summers could hear him as well, since he was overseeing the fire coverage for the entire fleet. "I need you to get the Thunderchild into position off of our portside aft and the Exeter into the Hood's location so we can close the coverage gap and blast this bastard!"

The reps from the individual ships were doing the best they could, but the comm lines were so jammed, it was better to send it out with higher approval.

"Two Squiddy cruisers coming in off the starboard side. Distance 3,000 clicks. Looks like they're making a run on the 'Zona!" Eianne, who was watching the holotable, noted to all paying attention.

"They're trying to flank us!"

"Missster Dumak - relay the information to Saber Sssquadron and requessst Major Kol's asssissstance." Th'Khiss K'aa had just relayed the strategic data to the CTO of the Thunderchild when the last pieve of news hit. The Arizona, Sao Paulo, Exeter and Thunderchild each were engaged in support for the Hood and Galaxy, while the Concorde had been supporting the Miranda before the Hydrans had put her down.

On the Federation fleet's other flank, the Texas, London, Thunderbird, Akira and Valiant were the anvil of the Hydran hammer.

Miranda's CIC droned with constant activity as the staff provided eachstarship's tactical department with enough information to act as a

fleet rather than just a gathering of warships. The efforts keeping

up with coordinating the fightercraft alone were herculean - there were hundreds of them, and dozens of different wings each with different trajectories. The large chamber was a hive of controlled activity until more tac data from the Miranda's port flank came in.

"The Hood is down. Repeat: the Hood is Down" Lieutenant LeBlanc's

voice tremored with emotion as she relayed the news aloud to the CIC, and her hands trembled as she transmitted the data to the fleet.

The clamor broke out uselessly as everyone began to banter. Caught up in the loss of one of their own, they forgot that they still were fighting the battle that the Hood had lost. Two of the representatives assigned to Chris' team from other ships were now doing something totally inane. Chris had a moment of silent reflection...had he really been in that many battles already that this didn't bother him? He never answered it.

"Hey, get yourselves together and find out what coverage arc is gone so we don't end up like them!" The command he found from somewhere startled the two JGs back to reality.

"Calm yourssselvesss, everyone. Calm." The Gorn's powerful, hissing voice rose above the nervous murmors. "We knew this wasss going to happen in a fassshion - anyone who thought thisss would be easssy ssshould be cleaning plasssma conduitsss. We're more than holding our own right now given what we face, and thisss CIC givesss the fleet an edge the Hydransss lack. Focusss!"

The ship shuddered and Chris turned his head away from a sparking panel, not before seeing the techician manning it get sprayed and go down screaming. Off to his right, Kelly Marcos had hit her head and was bleeding but still manned weapons control with Hammertly. Chris turned to the Gorn and gave a brief but lighthearted smirk. "Whoever thought we'd be the combat vets, eh?"

"Not thisss early in our careerssss, certainly" K'aa agreed in a hushed tone. "Miranda'sss reputation for being in the thick of thingsss isss certainly merited." He toggled the comm tot he bridge and started relaying data.

"More from the Fleet, Captain - the Sao Paulo hasss engaged target Delta Three to protect the Glaxaly'ssss port and inflicted heavy damage to the targer, but ssshe's being ssswarmed by fighersss.

Approaching usss on attach vector one-one-nine are two more destroyersss - targetsss Epsilon Three and Four - ETA until we are within Fusssion Beam range, one-hundred and thirty sssecondsss."

Aerk, over at the master holotable, shouted out to everyone within hearing distance. "Target of opportunity! Target Delta Two Six just presented herself for a max strike by us, the Sao Paolo, Thunderchild, and the Akira!"

"We just lost 4 Blackjacks!" Another voice cut in, referring to one of the Concorde's squadrons.

"Hydran fleet is trying to mass on our port quarter!"

Chris looked back at K'aa. "Looks like they're trying a steamroller.

Mass their forces and drive straight through the middle of ours."

The Gorn's yellow eyes flicked as their nictitating membranes brought moisture to their ocular surfaces. ~And we're already stretched too

thin~. "Hrrrrr... relay the info to the fleet - recommend to the

bridge the ussse of thansssphasssic torpedoes. I think it'sss beyond the time we ussssed them. Are they stttrike cruisssersss? Or are the Hydrans bringing the carriersss to the fore?"

Whilst they were looking at the data, they didn't expect Eianne to yell out. "Starbeast! Starbeast! It's headed straight for us!"

The resulting sound and earthquake style shake flung all but the seated around the CIC. Seconds later, when the room stopped spinning, alarms were blaring and bodies--and the resultant blood--were strewn about everywhere.

Aerk pulled himself to his feet, having managed to just slide into the wall next to him. "Everybody alright?!!?"

Coughs and sputters were heard as those who could managed to get themselves to their feet.

"Weapons are offline!" a lonely, scared voice called from a station.

Chris stood, having taken the brunt of the impact with his back and a few cuts around his body. He was one of the few officers back standing. There were still a lot of bodies down. "Everyone check each other for injuries! Aerk, make sure we still know what's going on!" Aerk nodded and worked quickly to get one of the holodisplays back online. "Where's K'aa?"

The reptilian was slowly emerging from a shattered workstation and display - a power conduit had ruptured and sent much of the terminal and the nearby wall as shrapnel. The Gorn had received the worst of it. Small pieces of metal and plastic jutted out of his right arm and leg, but he seemed to wave the injury off as he casually picked the debris from his face. "Man your stationsss! Thisss isssn't over yet!

Missster Shankarturvos - ssscan everything you can from the Ssstarbeasst! Composition! Mass! Form! I want to know what it had for breakfassst! Move!"

"Bridge! Targetsss Epsilon Three and Four nearing Fussion Beam range

- ETA isss currently twelve sssecondssss." K'aa did not like what he was seeing as the "Steamroller" had hit the fleet hard. The alien creature shrugged and thrashed, sending mayem and destruction amongst the Federation warships.

"Targetsss Gamma Four through Ten now changing courssse to intercept - Hellbore range in twenty-two sssecondsss."

****

"Weapons still offline, two targets closing to cannon range! They hit us and we're in for trouble!"

Chris looked at his readout. He turned to K'aa. "Captain's ordering

the retreat. All ships are pulling out." The busy CIC crew was

still unaware of the events that had transpired above them on the bridge.

"Hrrrrrsssss... relay the data and the command to the fleet", was the reptilian's quiet supply. The best of the Federation - admittedly, a small fleet but a significant one - was retreating like a targ having been beaten by its master. The feeling left a bitter, acrid taste in the Gorn's mouth. "Let'sss look after our people here - get sssickbay and tend to the injuriess. Get our repairsss in the queue with Engineering - they'll be damn busssy over the next few daysss. I'm going to the bridge - you're in charge, Chris. The data on the Ssstarbeassst - we need to look at it quickly."

Chris nodded. "We'll figure it out." K'aa turned and walked out of the CIC, leaving Chris once again to discover what had happened during a battle. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger for a few seconds, allowing himself to take a personal moment. Jannen, Ezzie...were they alright? Did they just lose? Had he really just survived that pounding with just a few small cuts? That one he'd worry about later.

"Hammertly, start working with Engineering to get an estimate of when our weapons will be back online. Davoust, get on the horn with sickbay and get a medic down here to treat the wounded.

All you off ship controllers, start interfacing with your respective ships to start gathering data. If this is just a lull, lets make sure we're better prepared next time. Veini, get all our data packaged and sent out to Archives on priority so the rest of the fleet can just see what happened. And Sensor Control, once we've re-established scanning capability I want you keeping overwatch on the tactical situation over Romulus." He looked around. Lots of the crew had the same dejected look on their face. "Hey, if we had lost we'd be dead, people. They won round one, that's all. Now we need to make sure they don't stand a chance in round two. I need you all on your A-game, something tells me this is far from over..."

"The Rising Tide"

Captain Daren M'Kantu (Robert)

Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara (Kat)

Lt. Commander MacKenzie Todd (Kate)

Lieutenant Michael Jameson (Noam)

Lieutenant 8-Ball Hunter (Kylee)

Lieutenant Raven Darkstar (Joe)

Lieutenant Ella Grey (Mek)

Lieutenant Saul Bental (Oded)

Lieutenant Valieria zh'Theran(Pat)

Ensign Artim (Michael)

Ensign Lela Beral (Petr)

Ensign David Walker (Randy)

Ensign Bliss Hawkins (Scott)

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 1, Bridge

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

Off to the left of the Galaxy and a few hundred thousand kilometers down, a Hydran ship flared as her reactor containment unit failed, making the cruiser into a small star that twinkled for a moment and then faded away.

If Daren had seen it under different circumstances, he might have thought it a distant star going nova - but these were not those circumstances.

"Bring us around to 154, Helm," he advised. "We're going in after the other side of that unit of Hydran carriers - with luck; we can catch them between us and Chris in the Miranda and cut them up."

"154" the Indian acknowledged gruffly. He keyed in the commands and the Galaxy sprung forth like an eagle taking flight, gaining altitude portside before swooping down starboard in a powerful ark through a fringe group of Hydran fighters who had peeled off of their formation attempting to clip the much larger target of opportunity, but the suddenness of the Galaxy's move left the Hydran fighters opportunity for little more then strafing fire - easily shaken off by the starfleet vessel's shields as it neared the Hydran carrier battle group.

"Ms. Todd," Daren continued as the Galaxy continued to move. "We need to break up that formation of Hydran light cruisers ahead or we'll be having some uninvited guests with us here on the Bridge after we collide. Do something about that, will you?"

"Already on it, Captain," MacKenzie Todd said, blowing her bangs off her forehead, wishing that the sweat bead rolling down her temple was as easy to deal with while her fingers flew over the panel in front of her.

Three thousand things were rolling over in her head at the same time.

She'd heard of ship's tactical officers who got into the mode and who didn't think of anything else but each step. Of course she was thinking that, but not exclusively. In the back of her mind was one thought in particular, one she would be embarrassed to admit to: so this is what it is like to be on the bridge of a starship in battle.

It was interesting and almost exactly what she'd anticipated; perhaps those holographic training programs were useful after all. Now if only she was a Hydran expert, then she might be able to offer some more anticipatory suggestions. Her knowledge had come into some vague use since she arrived, but really she'd been spending the bulk of her time studying Hydran tactics and methodologies as well as pouring over the destruction of the Galaes, something that really consisted of watching the same three minutes of footage over and over and over again.

"Helm, I'm sending a minor course correction; if we set this up correctly, we should be in the clear for the next minute or two at least while the cruisers figure out what happened."

"And then?"

"I'm working on it, Captain, just need one step at a time. I'll be there when we need it." She looked up, offering a small tight smile to the man in the middle of the bridge, all the while fighting to keep her balance as a barrage lit into their shields. Some tactical officers could surf with their ship through some of the ugliest battles imaginable without losing their balance once. MacKenzie was not one of those officers; she'd already been tossed into her panel a couple times, could feel the bruise forming across her hips. "Shields steady at 93%."

Things were a mess; a space fight was always like that. One had to be a hell of a tactician to understand what was going on, simply by looking at the consoles, viewscreen and holographic projections. It's something you'd learn at officer's school and study over and over again in order to get promoted. It seemed like Daren was doing a good job. Jameson might have done it differently, but then again, he always does things different, he had to be unique - it's wasn't his fault, it was just his 'special' point of view.

Michael wasn't worried about Ensign Lela Beral. Even though she was a new officer, she was chosen by 'Commander Iniara for the battle bridge post. She was a Trill, and might have had more experience than people would have thought. Her experience was perfect was this position, and both Tarin and Michael knew it.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 8, Battle Bridge

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

Meanwhile, Ensign Bliss Hawkins face was serene and focused. Her hands tapped her tactical controls like a concert pianist working through a concerto. She had spent years working towards the day when she would be in a spot like this-impossible odds with everything on the line, and she was loving every moment of it.

"Aft phaser batteries prepped for rapid fire....all secondary hull torpedo launchers reading green. Sir, we're loaded for bear, and it's hunting season."

"Excellent. Mister Artim, our prey, if you will," Iniara replied evenly.

"At once commander", Artim wasn't teribly used to running sensors in a battle situation, but he'd had more then his fair share of simulations. "Looks like we have quite a selection, cruisers, frigates, and a healthy number of fighters."

"Route data to the main viewer."

"Aye sir.", Answered Lela and tapped few commands on her console. On the main viewer appeared the whole scene.

Iniara stood, crossing her arms as she regarded the Battle Bridge's main viewscreen. Sensor data began to overlap the chaos that the ship's external cameras were relaying back to them. "Target Delta Two, Ms. Hawkins," she called out, picking a light cruiser which was doggedly following the Galaxy as she sailed through the fray. "Let the hunt begin."

"Target Delta Two, aye...."

Hawkin's enigmatic smile brightened briefly as her commands sent dazzling phaser bursts into the Hydran ship. Their shields held for several seconds, but the focused fire was too much. The bubble of protection collapsed, and the stacatto bursts sizzled the enemy craft.

A single torpedo landed amid ships, rupturing the ship's hull like a overripe melon into several sparking fragments.

With the cool in Hawkin's voice, she might have been discussing the morning breakfast menu rather than a battle of life and death. "Moving on to Target Epsilon Four....."

Hawkins's enigmatic smile brightened briefly as her commands sent dazzling phaser bursts into the Hydran ship. Their shields held for several seconds, but the focused fire was too much. The bubble of protection collapsed, and the staccato bursts sizzled the enemy craft.

A single torpedo landed amid ships, rupturing the ship's hull like a overripe melon into several sparking fragments.

With the cool in Hawkins's voice, she might have been discussing the morning breakfast menu rather than a battle of life and death. "Moving on to Target Epsilon Four....."

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 1, Bridge

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

"Sir," Lieutenant zh'Theran said from the commutations station.

"Signal from the Concorde. They moved in to assist the Miranda.

They're in trouble, requesting backup."

Daren nodded. "Divert our fire to support the Concorde - let that Hydran cruiser go for..."

It was, however, too late. On the screen, everyone watched as the massive starcarrier started popping off escape pods like nothing else.

With a brilliant flash, she went up - as did the Hood, who'd also been assisting the Miranda.

Two things happened in quick succession: The Miranda's shields fell, so she deployed her armor...

And then the Hydran's Star Beast finally showed.

"Elohim!" Saul Bental called out. It was one thing to see the thing on a report or a second grade footage, and another to see it cover a considerable portion of the view screen.

"Signal from Miranda!" zh'Theran passed along. "All ships, attack the Star Beast. Attack Plan Delta!"

As ships began pouring out fire, the Hydran's large tentacles swiped their first target - and the Miranda went spinning out of control through the firefight...

"Caught In The Undertow"

Captain Daren M'Kantu (Robert)

Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara (Kat)

Lt. Commander MacKenzie Todd (Kate)

Lieutenant Michael Jameson (Noam)

Lieutenant 8-Ball Hunter (Kylee)

Lieutenant Raven Darkstar (Joe)

Lieutenant Ella Grey (Mek)

Lieutenant Saul Bental (Oded)

Lieutenant Valieria zh'Theran(Pat)

Ensign Artim (Michael)

Ensign Lela Beral (Petr)

Ensign David Walker (Randy)

Ensign Bliss Hawkins (Scott)

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 8, Battle Bridge

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

["Signal from Miranda!"] the voice of Lt. zh'Theran crackled through the comm. ["All ships, attack the Star Beast. Attack Plan Delta!"]

Iniara tensed as she heard the two words that could change their lives. "Ms. Beral, how are the shields?"

"Shields still undamaged, sir."

"Hm. Divert all available power to the forward shields. Even if it means taking some from the aft shields," Iniara told the young Trill, just as she felt the ship begin to move and change course again under her feet. They were now heading straight for the Star Beast; if that thing took aim at Galaxy, the shields would be all that lay between them and a world of pain. "Hawkins, continue firing at will."

"Understood." After few moments, Lela is reporting: "Shield balance set sir. Forward shields at maximum, aft. at 50%"

"Altering tactics to compensate....." Hawkins, smoothly changing settings on her weapons panel. She touched one system panel she'd been keeping in reserve for just the right moment.

Iniara knew that weakening the aft shields could have dangerous

consequences-- there were several Hydran cruisers on their tail after

all-- but any damage dealt by the Star Beast would surely be much greater. She just hoped Ensign Hawkins was as good a shot as her file claimed she was.

A small swarm of Hydran corvettes darted in to take advantage of the relatively unguarded aft section of the Galaxy. A flash of glee in Hawkins' eyes was the only change as she brought up the tractor beam system.

A single torpedo landed amid the cluster of enemy craft, draining their weak shields. The corvettes were meant for close fighting on like-sized ships, not a Federation ship of the line. A focused stream on a single corvette crippled it, and Hawkins tractored it.

With cool efficiency, she used the tractored ship like a cudgel, slamming it into several of its sister ships until a single target erupted in blinding fire, consuming the small cluster of ships.

"Moving on to Target Gamma One...."

Artim saw the Star Beast show up on his sensors and his eyes went wide and his expression changed to one he hadn't had in many years. He couldn't remember being this awestruck and afraid since... well...

home. But he had a job to do and somehow he figured finding out how to kill that thing was going to be part of it.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 1, Bridge

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

As the Starbeast grew bigger and bigger on the viewscreen, a wealth of information began to pour into the relevant posts. Sitting by the Intel console, Saul Bental would have a field day if his life were not in immediate danger.

He glanced at the marker showing the ship's structural integrity. No time to bail out yet... but if the Galaxy gets too close to the starbeast; he might never have a window of opportunity.

Solution. Somewhere, in the wealth of information, hid the way to defeat this spaceborn juggernaut. Saul already made sure the data streamed toward the nearest UFP listening posts. But THEY could wait for another day, whereas he...

He turned around sharply as something drew his attention.

The Galaxy suddenly rolled like a drunken whore during a Marine division shore leave, her nose pitching up and he aft dipping down and circling to the left.

"Helm!" Daren snapped as he grabbed for a handhold and crewmen started to slide around the Bridge. "What in Allah's name was that?"

Darkstar, seated in the Navigation room growled as he watched the lights navigation board suddenly light up and go unresponsive. "System interference." the Indian announced. He activated a secondary system and the holographic emitters built in the navigation dome which had been relaying a real time image of the battle around him now overlaid that with coordinates and attack vectors. He knew what was coming and it would require roughly 40 seconds to accomplish.

It wasn't as if Daren hadn't suspected it was coming, but he reflected that it needn't have been at such a poor time. As his feet slid out from under him, and he lost his grip, Daren started spitting out orders all the way to the floor: "Darkstar; take us to manual. Todd, disengage the automated fire control and go manual. Iniara - you and your people do the same. Grey, find out what's doing that and make it stop!"

Over the comm, Daren could hear the mechanized voice of Ella as she yelled her reply.

A hand came down from nowhere and caught him, but Daren didn't look up to see who it was yet. "zh'Theran - warn the rest of the fleet.

They'll be next if they haven't already been hit. Hunter, scan and see if this is a broadcast effect - if it is, locate the source and tell someone to go kill them. Bental - keep your scanners going, concentrate on the starbeast."

"Will do." The calm response was surprisingly close to Daren's ear. He slanted his eyes, noting that the officer who halted his fall was Bental.

"Thank you," Daren said quietly as he struggled to his feet - and almost fell again when the Galaxy rolled again, her nose dipping as he aft flipped up and to the right. "Darkstar, how long to manual override?" he snapped out. "We're going to get killed like this."

"Done." Darkstar said loudly as he now took complete control of the navigation system "This may be...abrupt."

The Galaxy appeared to suddenly drop in place, nearly spinning completely on its azimuth angle before helm control once again blacked out for a few long seconds before coming online again. Darkstar furiously worked the controls intuitively using the crafts momentum to level out and move it out of the light cruisers immediate cross hairs.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 8, Battle Bridge

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

"Transfer all available po--" Iniara was cut off in mid-command as the Galaxy rolled, tossing her sideways like a limp doll. She grabbed at the tactical arch, found an awkward handhold, and then cried out as the momentum of her body pulled at the weakest points of her shoulder, threatening to dislocate it. Letting go before anything important could tear or break she tumbled to the deck.

["...fire control and go manual. Iniara - you and your people do the same. Grey, find out what's doing that and make it stop!"]

M'Kantu's voice snapped her back to attention. "Got it!" she called out, before turning to her own gunner.

"Hawkins, switch to manual and continue firing at anything that moves.

Walker, same thing...coordinate with Darkstar and Dobryin, keep this boat moving! Beral, take over primary sensors...and Artim, find out where the hell that signal is coming from!"

"Yes, sir," confirmed Lela registering her orders. Then she tapped something on her console to fulfill them.

"Continuing on manual......" Hawkins murmured. She didn't bother her commander with the information that she'd been on manual since the beginning of the battle. She'd read about possible system interference from the enemy in this fight, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was some slavering beast taking her toys away when she was having so much fun.

"Might I make a suggestion, Commander?" Hawkins piped up even as she launched a brace of torpedoes into an exposed belly of a Hydran cruiser.

"What do you have?" Iniara asked, turning towards the young woman.

"We need to get that Starbeast off the playing field. Think a tractored Hydran cruiser slingshot into it at, say.... full impulse.... might give it a belly ache?"

Since the person with a blue collar was probably going to have his opinion sought eventually, Artim decided to launch a preemptive strike, "Judging by what its doing now, I'm not sure it would even burp." Artim said somewhat sarcastically.

Hawkins flashed the fellow in the science uniform a toothy grin. She hadn't bothered to learn his name, and was glad she had trusted her instincts. Jerk. "Combat against unknown opponents always calls for improvisation mixed with tested tactics. Come up with alternatives.

I'm busy at the moment...." To punctuate her words, she used the tractored Hydran ship to sweep aside a wing of fighters making for the Miranda.

"Retreating and living to fight another day when we do know what might kill this thing might be an idea." Artim replied as he futility tried to come up with a better plan.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 1, Bridge

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

Whatever was done, it was clear this battle was an untenable prospect now. The Hydran starbeast was destroying ships left and right - and it didn't seem too particular as to whether or not it had to take out Hydran vessels in order to destroy Romulan ones.

Lieutenant zh'Theran's comm lit up twice over, and it took her just a moment to sort the signals out. "Captain!" she yelled.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Daren replied without looking away from the tactical display.

"Signal from Miranda, and the Valdore. The retreat order is given, and confirmed. We're to light out to Point Delta, as fast as possible."

"I second that, Captain." Ella said over the open comm. "The ship isn't going to be able to withstand much more -"

"Who's toying with the shields?!" Saul's voice overcame Ella. While he wasn't supposed to monitor the Galaxy's shields, their status did appear on his little display. He sent a savage glare toward the center of the bridge. "Whoever diverted shield power to the front must balance it on all sides! The Hellbores penetrate the weakest section regardless of actual hit location!"

"-especially if we can't get the shields back to at least-" Ella's voice replied, more static and pops heard than actual words.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 8, Battle Bridge

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

Hawkins damned herself. The order to alter the shield power had been made right in front of her, and she'd been too focused on fire patterns to catch that plebe mistake. "She's right; equalize shield power on all sides of the Galaxy. The hellbores penetrate the weakest side, no matter the facing!"

The blood in her veins froze as Iniara realized that by focusing on nothing but the Star Beast, she *had* been forgetting something. The Hellbores.

As the ship started to straighten out under manual control, a pair of Hydran cruisers - one leaking a flaming spike of burning methane atmosphere into the void - slipped in from either side of the Galaxy and unloaded their full array of hellbores into the weakened aft shields.

The energy coruscated along the weaker shields like a deadly energy serpent, coiled itself - and struck in a series of impacts that further weakened, and then collapsed the port aft shield, allowing the last hellbore to discharge directly along - and into - the Galaxy's Secondary Hull, tearing open hull plating and cascading into the ship's systems.

"Do it!" Iniara shouted, striding across the deck towards Beral and the familiar Operations console. "Equalize the shields!"

After few moments, shield balance was set to default. "Shields equal, sir. But at 25% only."

Few moments later, the Galaxy shook herself wildly under a series of hits.

"Shields failed, sir." Reported Lela quite calmly, although great tension was to be read in her face.

"Sir, Lexington got serious hit, her starboard nacelle is going to explode, their warp core is getting overloaded quickly." Said Lela, this time very emotionally, her voice shaken. On the viewscreen appeared Nebula class ship, releasing plenty of escape pods. Moments later, Lexington turned into one large fireball. Lela stood paralyzed behind her console, staring on the viewscreen. Tears appeared in her eyes.

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

USS Galaxy

Deck 1, Bridge

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

"Pull us out here," Daren snapped. "All weapons provide covering fire for the rest of the fleet and rescue operations as long as possible!"

Long minutes ticked by as the Galaxy and her crew did her best to cover the withdrawal. What would have been unthinkable only days before was now fact.

Romulus had been conquered by the Hydrans.

Daren M'Kantu settled back into the command chair on his bridge as the fleet scattered along their preplanned routes - multiple exit vectors that all the ships would alter to reach Point Delta - the Phoenicius System. He didn't know the Romulan's losses, but on the Federation side, the starships Concorde, Hood and Lexington had been lost.

Thousands of Federation personnel had died, and thousands more had been abandoned on Romulus - there was simply no way to retrieve any of them. Their fate would be the same as the Romulan people's.

"We'll be back." Daren made his quiet promise to those men and women, though everyone on the bridge could hear him. "We *will* be back."

"The Little Guys" pt IV

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

Major Corran Rex, CAG, USS Galaxy / Vanguard Leader

Major Rena Starburst, Rebel Leader, USS Miranda

Ensign Eve, USS Galaxy (Vanguard One IO)

Flight Officer Kalin zh'Annuria, Rogue Six, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven, USS Galaxy

Flight Officer Qrandrik Njendrin, Rogue Two, USS Miranda

Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Rex Hall, Rebel 5, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Jacob Striker, Renegade 11, USS Miranda

Pilot Gelkar, Renegade 12, USS Miranda

Pilot Vlatrinia, Rebel 6, USS Miranda

Lieutenant Martin 'Papa' Artu, Rogue Nine / Three Flight Leader, USS Miranda

Commander Norax Taldren, CAG, USS Icarus / Chimera Leader

Lieutenant Savant, Temporary Electronic Support, USS Galaxy

Captain DarkSky, Captain - USS Typhon

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

Vanguard One

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

["Holy Hell!"] someone cursed over the squawk as Corran watched the two Federation starships be destroyed.

"Tara." Corran whispered under his breath. Captain Tara Reynolds of the Concorde. An ex from a few years back, and a squadronmate from his days back with the Rogues before that.

And hopefully still among the living. He toggled the fleetwide fighters' comm channel. "All available fighters - proceed to the Concorde and Hood's last location. They got off escape pods. Protect those pods people, I don't want the Hydrans to claim a single POW!"

the Major ordered.

Without waiting to check on backup, he darted Vanguard One in to do just that. "Eve, look out for transponders. Let's let the SAR runabouts know where people are. Fight like this, those pods aren't going to last long."

"Aye Sir," Eve replied, adding escape pod transponder signatures to the high priority search protocols of the remaining Vanguard sensor systems. An interesting side effect of the intelligence packages installed was her ability to directly influence each fighter's standard sensors, as the Intel packages interfaced directly with the aforementioned system. A small bloom of pink appeared on her display and she routed it to major's HUD for easier tracking and identification, followed by a squirt to the nearest SAR Runabout. These boys were going to be working long and hard.

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

USS Typhon

Flight Deck

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

"SAR Teams SPIN UP!" Amongst the compliment of the carrier USS Typhon was a selection of runabouts. These weren't your average, everyday, ordinary runabouts, but designed and outfitted specifically for Search And Rescue. A full dozen of the craft, already prepped and ready for hot launch, began their well rehearsed maneuvers, taking up taxi positions. Within one minute, all were in the air.

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

Rebel One

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

Rena and her Rebels had actually been fairly close - and she shared Corran's concern for their old squadron-mate. Tara was a good pilot, and a good person, besides. "You heard the man, Rebels. Defense on the eggshells. Keep 'em from crackin."

Starburst deftly flew her Valkyrie II- Class Interceptor into the cloud of fighters gathering near the area where the Federation Carrier had blown - and it didn't take her long to find a Hydran taking potshots at escape pods like fish in a barrel.

She'd long since run out of microtorps - but damn if that was going to stop her.

"No you don't, you three-eyed ugly son of a bitch." Rena muttered under her breath, toggling her pulse phasers to weapons free. Without even waiting for a lock, she started strafing her fire across the Hydran fighter's hull.

She wasn't too proud to admit a very visceral satisfaction at seeing the bastard die, either.

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

Rogue Six

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

~Defend the escape pods? Right, if this bastard would just get the hell off of me!~ thought Kalin zh'Annuria with a frustrated growl.

Having grown tired

of being chased around, Kalin sent her Rogue into a tight, blistering corkscrew, screwing up the aim of the Hydran dogging her tail. As luminescent bolts of energy flew past her, barely missing her fighter, she suddenly ended the roll and dove, too fast for the Hydran to adjust his aim. She flipped her ship over and then stopped abruptly, turning her Rogue up on its rear to bring the Hydran craft into her targeting reticle. The Andorian couldn't keep a satisfied smirk off her usually passive face as her pulse phasers ripped the lizard's fighter apart, but the smile was quickly erased when she remembered the escape pods.

Kalin knew that trying to fly so precisely all the time didn't really work in such a confused melee as this, that it took time she couldn't afford to waste, but she couldn't force herself to change her style. Normally she had Cowboy around to cover her, and he flew all over the damn place; it was a wonder the crazy bastard had managed to live as long as he had, given his flashy and unpredictable methods. Her wingman got by on improvisation and flying by the seat of his pants, which was something Kalin couldn't do.

She didn't have any more time to dwell on the subject, however; those escape pods still needed defending. Bluejay flipped her Rogue over and threw her throttle as far forward as she could, feeling the starfighter shake as it rocketed after the other Rogues, Vanguards, and Sabers who had already started toward the cluster of defenseless pods floating in the melee.

"Rogue Squadron, this is Six," she said into the comm. "Do your best to form a defensive perimeter around the pods, let's keep the area as clear as possible for S-and-R."

~As if S-and-R will be able to get anywhere near them,~ she thought a moment later, looking around wildly. She knew that most of those poor people wouldn't be getting out of here alive. There were too many Hydrans in the way for that to happen.

Still, they had to try. And even if it got her killed, Kalin would do what she could for them. To be honest, the prospect of dying didn't particularly frighten her; at least Cowboy wouldn't be able to bother her anymore.

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

Rogue Two

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

The rapidly expanding swarm of escape pods would have been fascinating to Flight Officer "Squiddy" Njendrin, if he'd been able to sit back and properly appreciate it. To his eyes, which saw light in a very different way than most humanoids, the pods looked like brilliant purple oblongs trailing deep green-blue flames behind them as they floated by.

It reminded him of home, and of watching nightflame bugs streak through the sky. 'Minions of fire', his father had called them. Sure, the fist-sized purple bugs were active all the time in the perpetual twilight of his homeworld, but it was only at night--when it got truly, utterly dark-- that the nightflames would decorate the sky with their green-blue heat trails.

From the time he was a tiny eft, living his isolated youth on land, the nightflames had been his constant companion. Qrandrik knew that the last thing he would see in this life were the nightflames, doing their dance among the stars.

And now, they were calling him home.

Inhaling deeply, the massive amphibian pilot realized he was finally at peace. Straightening out the path of his Rogue Mark V, he waited until the computer registered several enemy weapons locks. They were closing in, he saw; it wouldn't be long now.

"Good." Qrandrik smiled to himself, then slammed his fighter into reverse. Screeching and tearing sounds filled his last moments as Hydran craft slammed into Rogue Two. Squiddy's fighter disintegrated around him in less than half a second, taking at least six or seven enemy craft out with it. The resultant explosion knocked away another half dozen Hydrans.

All around, the nightflames continued their dance.

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

Vanguard One

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

And then everything went to hell.

Without warning, the Hydran Star Beast arrived - and made its presence known.

Corran could only watch as the Miranda raised it's ablative armor - and was promptly knocked several hundred kilometers from its previous position

He winced. "That doesn't look pretty. Hope you've got those sensors running, Eve."

"I do," She said, more awed and humbled by the level of organic technological control the Hydrans displayed than by anything else.

"We'll need to try to get in a little closer. We have excellent telemetry-" The icon for yet another Vanguard winked off of the display and visually one could see it had been struck by one of the Starbeast's writing tentacles. "Never mind," she whispered. The details had already been fed through the stricken crafts systems, and hence out to the rest of the remaining fighters - and there weren't many.

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

Rogue One

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

Mia's blood went cold when her wingman's status light suddenly flashed red, and then to ice when the massive bulk of the Star Beast appeared directly in front of her.

Terrified, the Andorian let out a scream, instinctively jerking the control stick of her fighter down. The tiny craft skirted just under the Beast's massive underbelly, barely missing a writhing tentacle along the way.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Mia did a quick once-over of her fighter's status. Shields were gone, microtorps were gone, and power reserves were near zero. From here on out, she was pretty much useless.

Still, she wasn't completely useless. Diverting all remaining power to the phasers she came about once more. So what if this was likely to be her final run? She'd make it count.

"The Little Guys" pt V

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

Major Corran Rex, CAG, USS Galaxy / Vanguard Leader

Major Rena Starburst, Rebel Leader, USS Miranda

Ensign Eve, USS Galaxy (Vanguard One IO)

Flight Officer Kalin zh'Annuria, Rogue Six, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven, USS Galaxy

Flight Officer Qrandrik Njendrin, Rogue Two, USS Miranda

Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Rex Hall, Rebel 5, USS Miranda

Flight Officer Jacob Striker, Renegade 11, USS Miranda

Pilot Gelkar, Renegade 12, USS Miranda

Pilot Vlatrinia, Rebel 6, USS Miranda

Lieutenant Martin 'Papa' Artu, Rogue Nine / Three Flight Leader, USS Miranda

Commander Norax Taldren, CAG, USS Icarus / Chimera Leader

Lieutenant Savant, Temporary Electronic Support, USS Galaxy

Cameo Apearance By:

Captain DarkSky, Captain - USS Typhon

And the USS Typhon

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

Vanguard One

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

The battle turned to a damn slaughter then - the fighters were all but forgotten - Federation, Romulan, and Hydran alike - as they simply tried to get the hell out of everyone else's way. He saw at least twelve Warbird promptly destroyed by the Starbeast with his own eyes, in only a matter of minutes. "Vanguard Leader to all Federation and Romulan Fighters. Clear to the edges of the engagement zone. If you stick around here, you're going to get swiped by that monstrosity."

Not a few minutes later, his instincts were confirmed. The retreat signal came - first from the Miranda, and then, bare seconds later, a second retreat order issued by Admiral Donatra aboard the Valdore. A quick look at the board confirmed that Colonel Voltansk hadn't survived the fight - and there was no signal from Colonel Mitchell's AWACS, which was on the planet.

And there was no time to look for him. Corran knew operation command of the fighters was now under his control. "Vanguard Leader to all fighters. I'm assuming command of the fighter wing. All warp-capable ships, retreat to point delta. Light out on your pre-assigned vectors, and keep an eye out for shadows. If you can't warp under your own power or you're bingo fuel - go to ground on Romulus or somewhere else in-system. That's an order. Repeat, all fighters, retreat to point delta."

It'd mean leaving some behind, Corran knew. He knew the Big Boys would be wrestling with the same decisions.

But they couldn't help anyone on Romulus if they all died at the hands of that Hydran monstrosity. And if they stayed... that was damn well what was going to happen.

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

Vanguard Eleven

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

Angelienia had never seen the ship or ships that had scraped the Hydran fighters off of her. One minute they'd been there, and the next they were gone in a barrage of phaser fire, as if they'd never been there at all.

After that, there'd been a confused flurry of targets to shoot at, targets shooting at her, collisions to avoid... and then the Starbeast had appeared and her mind had simply stopped - frozen in fear.

It was... too big. Too horrific. Things that size weren't meant to be... alive.

It took the rocking explosion of a nearby Romulan Warbird to snap her back to the here and now, to force her to jam her stick forward in response to Vanguard One's order to fall back. She flashed past a pair of Hydran fighters, ignoring the fusion beams that they sent dancing after her, and danced around another disabled Warbird, looping through the open central core of the ship to lose them for the moment she needed to go to warp.

As the fusion beams found her again, slicing at her failing shields and scoring the hull of her fighter, she went to warp, a constant stream of thought running through her head: "I believe in Victor.IbelieveinVictor.I believe...."

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

Saber Two

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

The Hydran was still on Taev's tail - the barrel roll, a number of Immelmen's, double loops with a twist, lag rolls - nothing worked, and it was constant effort alone that prevented the Ferengi from being perforated by gatling phaser fire. Worse was that the Hydran had a wingman, and Saber one was flying alone.

One trick had yet to be tried, and it was risky... something his former squadron would have appreciated. He slammed the thrust lever forward and homed in on a Hydran wing, currently returning back to it's carrier.

Humans eat a lot of protein derived from an animal called a "chicken"

- on the Galaxy, someone at any given time was eating some kind of chicken. Personally, Taev had no idea why "chicken" was used to describe a test of nerves. Maybe the chicken was a predatory animal.

The Hydran wing scrambled away from the incoming Federation fighter, and Taev launched every mini-missile left in his arsenal - then executed a quick Reverse Half Cuban Eight loop. The resulting chaos was perfect - the Ferengi managed another kill before activating his fighter's warp drive.

He had survived, but his day's balance sheet had a lit of red on it...

not all of it ink.

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

Rebels 5 & 6

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

"HOLY FRAK!!" Rex shouted as he watched the two ships get hit hard right before a rain of fire hit the Miranda herself again. Rex felt the blood in his veins boil as he watched alot of good people suddenly not exist anymore as he shifted his weapons to a hand's free position as he started firing on a number of other enemy fighters.

=^=Six to five, we just lost another rogue=^= came the voice of the Rex's wingman but before she could say anything else, the Hydran starbeast appeared. =^=BY THE LOBES OF ALL THAT IS GLITTERY!!!=^= she shrilled through the channel, forgetting that it was still keyed to Rex's comm.

"Well, makes you wonder if they're compensating for something." Rex growled as he swung his fighter towards where the rest of his squadron was. "Come on, Six. We got ourselves a bunch of eggs to protect." Rex growled again as he swung his fighter towards where the rest of his squadron was helping to cover the Typhon's SAR units while taking out a few hydran fighters along the way.

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

Renegades 11 & 12

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

"You've got to be frakking me" Jacob said, all traces of his usual professionalism gone as he beheld the hydran's "little friend". "How do you kill something that big and fugly?"

=^=I know not my friend, but Major Rex has taken command of the wing and is calling for us to make for the RZ. I follow your lead, Gryphon.=^= Gelkar said to which Jacob could only smile.

"This is Renegade Eleven to Renegade Lead, give me a checkback please Major." Jacob said, easily falling back into his old habits. "Do we jump or cover the SAR from Typhon?" while doding enemy fire and returning in kind.

The huge bulk of the USS Typhon, a small cloud of SAR Runabouts flitting about her, eased into the vicinity of the wreckage from the Hood and Concorde, her flight bay doors wide open and weapons blasting away any fighter who dared get too close. A voice crackled over an open line, broad ban transmission. "All Allied fighter craft, this is Captain DarkSky, USS Typhon. Disengage from SAR cover and jump out system as ordered. Any incapable of warp, my bays are open to you for the next minute. If you can't reach me by then, I advice you to go dirtside. Godd luck. DarkSky out."

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

USS Galaxy

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

Dogfights such as these were messy affairs. Humanoid synapses could barely keep up with the deadly whirl of composite and energy which made up the battle - all in all barely minutes had passed since the beginning of the fight. The last dying burst of the AWACS runabout had flickered out moments ago, leaving the fighters half blind. What was worse, the Hydrans were starting to get communications superiority - suppressive cochrane fields blanketed the area around the planet.

The star-beast's arrival heralded a power spike in Galaxy's lateral sensor and communication arrays, and just as the announcement to withdraw was made a new set of signals began to stream out from them.

New data began to filter into the fighters from the friendly platform, replacing the lost AWACS boat; it even plotted potential escape routes or trajectories to easily enter the planet's gravity well while avoiding the worst of the Hydran fire.

A voice came with the data stream, calm and confident - something that had earned Savant the nickname "Combat Receptionist". Communication lines solidified between all of the fighters as she spoke, a siren's call through the stormy black, "Galaxy has assumed electronics support position. I'll try to squelch the Hydran communication lines and sensor platforms for as long as I can, fighters. Get back to roost while you still can. Vanguard, we'll need a CAP while transiting out."

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

Rogue Six

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

Kalin wasn't even sure if what she was seeing was real. How the hell could the Hydrans have created such a monster? How could it survive in space? How could it do so much damage in so little time?

She moved to quickly acknowledge the stream of retreat orders coming through the comm, flipping her fighter over and moving into an escape vector. "Rogue Six to all Rogues, you heard them," she said. "Bug out if you can, or find a safe place to land if you can't. Luck be with you all."

Kalin had just finished laying in the course to retreat point delta when she heard a piercing, terrified scream through the comm. Wincing from the pain her eardrums now felt, she craned her head back and around, trying to see what was going on.

Her eyes widened as she saw a part of that monstrosity sweeping toward her, swiping at other fighters in the way and either batting them aside or utterly destroying them as casually as a person would squash a bug with his hand. Kalin shouted a swear that would have embarrassed even Cowboy and quickly engaged her warp drive, her fighter leaping away from the battle just before the star beast reached her.

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

Rogue One

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

Mia breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the orders from Miranda and Valdore, echoed only seconds later by Bluejay in Rogue Six. She quickly toggled over to the squadron's frequency.

"Rogue Leader to all Rogues. Retreat. Get your butts out of here. I repeat--"

The transmission was cut off in mid-stream. Flying without a wingman, Mia mel Thora had succumbed to her greatest weakness: failing to watch out for her own six as well as she did for everyone else. So she hadn't noticed the Hydran fighter taking aim behind her, and she hadn't registered weapons fire until it had been too late.

The resultant explosion tore a huge hole in the back of the Rogue, knocking its pilot unconscious. The craft spiraled out of control on a collision course with the planet. And seconds later, its hull began to take on a reddish glow as it entered ch'Rihan's outer atmosphere.

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

Rogue Nine

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

Martin Artu cursed loudly. To this day, he still didn't know what the hell he was doing in Rogue Squadron. He was a proverbial back-bencher. He had no business flying with the elite, much less having a position of authority - a position that now, inconveniently, left him in command of the squadron.

"Rogue Squadron, clear out. Meet on the other side, regroup in support of Miranda. No one lands until I give the word."

Fear gripped his heart as he took one last look at the sky around him, filled with wreckage and bodies. He was blinded by tears, and could only tap the controls, taking him away from the battle.

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

Chimera One

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

In front of what remained of Icarus' brave group, Norax Taldren heard the order. She and her other sixteen surviving pilots had regrouped abeam of the Valdore, and watched as the warbird leapt away from the burning atmosphere of its homeworld. Tapping her comm, she said, "Ok people, we're some of the last ones left. Time to go. I'll see you on the other side."

She watched as her people activated their warp drives, but she herself continued fighting. She would remain until Icarus had left, and probably even longer, to see those pilots landing on the Typhon safely away. She would leave when the larger carrier did.

Unfortunately, the Bajoran woman never got her wish. Before she had time to signal Icarus of her intentions, her proximity alarm began to scream, and her eyes widened in shock as she realized that she had come too close to the Starbeast.

There would be no memorial to Norax Taldren, no elaborate ceremony dedicated just to her as a hero. There would be only a name on a long list of names, friends who would spare her as much room in their already heavy hearts as they could, and a cloud of dust forever orbiting the world of ch'Rihan.

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

Scattering on their flight paths, the thousands of warp-capable Federation and Romulan starfighters lit out of the system in every conceivable direction. Some went to ground on ch'Rihan, some on ch'Havran. A few went to other in-system installations. But for the most part, those who had survived, did what they were ordered to do.

They ran.

"Parental Advice"

by J. Andrus Suder

****

Hall of State

Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

****

It was a cliche, of course, but Andrus wished that he had listened to his mother.

Not that J.T. Suder had been an exemplary role model of motherhood (his birthday presents were usually in the form of lock picks and state-of-the-art laser cutters, and - to his knowledge - the woman had never cooked a meal in her life) but J.T. *had* told Andy on more than one occasion not to be too greedy.

"Don't be too greedy, J ~," His mother had warned him. "It will just come back in the end and bite you on the ass."

As Andrus ran through the Hall of State, he really wished that he had listened to his mother. If he had listened, he wouldn't have thrown away his friendship with Tek for money. He never would have made his way to Romulus in an attempt to make amends.

And he wouldn't now be stuck in the middle of a war zone running for the IRV Praetor for all he was worth.

Then again, how was he to know that war would be coming to Romulus? No one had, if the Romulans that were fleeing with him - their fear and disbelief as thick as the invading troop of Hydrans that was storming the capitol- were any indication.

And how was Andy to know that the Captain of his original ticket home was a sadistic bastard disguised as a peace-loving Federation officer?

Oh, sure, M'Kantu looked like someone's grandfather, kind and compassionate, right up until the point when he totally screwed you over.

"We need you to use your connections, Mr. Suder." Andrus mimicked even as he ran. "It's a not an order, oh ho no, of course not, but it is a rather strong request."

Naturally, there had been a bit of a desire on his part to be able to gather up the hidden troops to save the day (saving Tek's homeworld would make them even and then some, Andy thought) but in the end it had been as effective as asking the Klingons to send aid to their enemies. At least he had been somewhat useful in convincing some of the senators that evacuation was the only option left, although Andy wished that they had come to a decision before the bad guys had arrived.

He rounded a corner, felt the phaser fire miss him by inches. Andy turned and fired his own weapon, yelling "asshole" even though the Betazoid wasn't sure who he was referring to, especially since it was damn near impossible for him to tell what gender his Hydran attacker was.

In either case, he missed but bought himself some more running time.

At least Tae'ben was safe, or as safe as one could be in the middle of a space battle anyway. He'd grown kind of fond of the kid's company and was glad that he had remained on the Galaxy, even though Andrus didn't think M'Kantu would have been *that* cruel. Andy had been able to blend in at Ki Baratan due to years of experience with lying his ass off, a borrowed senator's uniform, and a holographic emitter that changed his facial features, but the boy was all arms, legs, anger, and guilt. He wasn't at all sure that the Romulans wouldn't have stopped amidst all the running for their lives to execute Tae'ben on the spot for defecting.

Another phaser blast nearly missed his head but this time, rather than having to rely on his shooting skill, he was pulled away.

"Get behind me," The woman snapped at him before aiming her rifle.

Andrus watched as she shot two of them and then went to finish them off with a Klingon mek'leth.

Being human, her thoughts and emotions were directly on the surface and Andy found himself blinking as all the concern for her family and friends was channeled into a rage directed at the Hydrans before her.

Needless to say, they didn't last long.

"You okay?" She asked him afterwards as she kicked at their corpses looking for weapons or rations.

Andy tilted his head slightly, somewhat fascinated by the woman, something that didn't happen too often. It wasn't everyday, after all, that you saw a beautiful woman slaying aliens like there was no tomorrow and he couldn't help himself from searching a bit beyond the surface to see why.

Unfortunately, in that moment he had forgotten his father's best piece of advice.

"Men aren't meant to know a woman's mind, Son," Navas had told him once over a dinner that his mother hadn't cooked. "It's a cosmic rule of the universe. Even if you know, think you know, or somehow find out what they're thinking, in the end you're still wrong anyway. And they're still pissed at you."

Case in point, the woman before him had narrowed her eyes and Andy suddenly found himself back to the wall with an elbow about to embed itself into his trachea.

"Don't go where you aren't invited, Betazoid." She all but spat at him in Klingon.

Andy gaped for a minute and then realized that the emitter had probably been damaged during the many times that he had either fallen or been slammed into by terrified senators and their aides as they all ran to safety.

Her thoughts confirmed that M'Kantu had sent ahead about his presence on the planet so at least she didn't think he was the enemy. The Gods forbid!

Since there was no real word in the Klingon lexicon for sorry, Andy said that he had meant no disrespect.

The woman - 'Rel - grunted and then let go of him. "Let's get you to the Praetor ... Senator."

"To Boldly Go...On"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil

Acting CO

USS Exeter

[OOC: Assume the important and relevant info from this was reported in to the MIranda and the rest of the fleet following Cliff's post "Recovery".]

"Acting Commanding Officer's log . . . in response to the order to retreat, the Exeter is en route to the rendez-vous point with the rest of the fleet following our encounter with the Hydrans. It would not be an overstatement to say the battle was in short, a disaster.

"The ship sustained significant damage during the exchange, but essential systems including most of life support, communications, navigation and propulsion are miraculously intact and operational. We have limited shields, sensors and weapons, which engineering teams -- such as we have -- are working on. There was hull damage on several decks, several of which were evacuated after life support went out there. We took heavy structural damage to the bridge, enough so that I've ordered all command and other essential bridge functions transferred to the much smaller, but relatively undamaged, battle bridge.

"Our most urgent problem is the loss of primary power relays ship-wide. The Hydran fighters who attacked us seemed to know exactly where to concentrate their fire to take out those systems, and since the battle we've been relying solely on the secondary relays. Chief Engineer Barrett says they'll hold for now, but we won't be able to make it through another fight until the primary relays are repaired or replaced.

"More significant than any damage to the ship or its systems however, is the damage to morale. Preliminary departmental reports indicate that we've lost nearly a third of the crew, which was already less than a full complement to begin with. Among the casualties were Captain Vogler and First Officer Marc Reardon; Ensign Minh Nguyen, the chief helmsman; Ensign Lennard Brockman, chief of tactical; and Lt.

Janet Farley, chief science officer. With so many dead and injured throughout the ship, I instructed Lt. Barrett to make restoring turbolift operation his department's first priority after ensuring that life support and other crucial systems were stable. The work of everyone aboard so far has been commendable, particularly Engineering and Medical. I have no doubt Captain Vogler would have been extremely proud.

"The captain's last orders immediately before her death were for us to retreat with the rest of the fleet and for me as the highest-ranking and most command experienced officer aboard, to assume command, a decision which I will do my utmost to ensure wasn't in vain. I've appointed Chief of Ops Lieutenant Brendan Mullen as Acting First Officer and Ensign Lydia Montgomery, chief of security, as second.

They will join me later in an address of the remaining crew in shuttle bay one."

[About an hour later.]

The Exeter's shuttle bay one, though smaller than those of the Miranda or the Galaxy, was still sufficiently large to hold the remaining crew. Arranged in orderly phalanxes across the deck, it wasn't hard to see that despite the show of military formality the recent losses weighed heavily on every face. Many of the relatively young crew showed injuries of their own, many were apparently still in shock at the unexpected turn of events, while most were simply in grief for the loss of fellow crewmates and a CO who despite her "spookiness" was well-respected. Had she lived to have more time with her crew, her status among them would undoubtedly have become "well-loved".

For his part, Brian Elessidil to a great extent shared the crew's feelings, along with more of his own, but it was time to address theirs first. So much needed to be done after leaving the scene of the battle that he hadn't had a moment to see a medic, as the various cuts and bruises on his hands and face from being tossed around with flying debris on the bridge suggested. He hadn't even had a chance to glance at a mirror, his hair still disheveled and pieces of dust and dirt still clinging to his uniform. But whether he looked -- or even felt -- the part, he was for all intents and purposes the captain, and even thought most of them had never met him, the crew seemed to accept it.

Calling them together for an address had been Brian's idea. Despite some resistance from Lt. Mullen on the grounds that they didn't have time for "that kind of stuff", Elessidil disagreed. It might have been different with a more seasoned crew, but the Betazoid counselor knew what was on people's minds and they were scared. He understood they needed a leader right now, someone to give them a little steadiness and certainty in what had turned out to be a chaotic and uncertain situation.

And he knew the objection on Mullen's part was primarily because *he* wasn't the one filling that role.

After instructing the assembly to be at ease, Brian cleared his throat so that he could speak as steadily and firmly as possible, then to the best that he could, looked to each and every individual as he spoke.

"What we have just experienced -- what we will continue to experience for the immediate future -- is perhaps one of the most difficult crises our careers in Starfleet will ever present: the loss of our fellow crewmates and our captain." The counselor chose to use "we"

and "our" instead of "you" and "your" on purpose. The crew needed to know from the start that he was now one of them, not some unfamiliar officer from some other ship here just to tell them what to do.

"For many here, this is your first assignment, one that began only days ago; one that no one could have anticipated would lead to something like this so quickly or so harshly. But we rarely get to choose the events that will occur in our lives; only how we respond.

This is where your training as officers and crew, indeed as men and women, is most vital, not simply to me or to the rest of this fleet, but to yourselves. Not merely the specific skills and areas of expertise you have been trained for, but the inner skills of courage, of discipline, and most of all, of strength. The first duty each of us has to perform before any other is to acknowledge our losses and continue on in spite of them. That isn't something that I or anyone else can order you to do. Each of you must do it for yourself.

"Some people believe that the present is the only things that matters.

This is not true. The past, with all its memories, its painful lessons and its tragedies, matters greatly. None of us can escape it.

None of us should expect ourselves or anyone else to simply forget about the people we've just lost. For better or for worse, our experiences will demand that we remember there is far more to life than what we can know or expect, and that our dreams can't be scripted. The present and the future are always downstream of the past, and like a great river, neither the flow nor the source can be stopped.

"Now we are in the present. Now we are faced with burdens and challenges to endure so that we can move forward. And move forward we must. The past teaches us that life is uncertain, but the present teaches us that life is not an illusion. Our knowledge must not give way to discouragement; our expectations must not give way to fear, or our dreams to hopelessness. The memory of those we have known in the past, the dependence of the people in our present, and the promise of what each of us will become in the future demands it.

"There will be -- there must be -- time to more formally honor those we've lost, and more time for us to feel our own grief. But for now, I ask all of us to pool our strength and our skill to attend to the situation at hand. We *are* Starfleet. We *are* the Federation. We will continue to boldly go forward. Dismissed."

"Hull Breach!" Part One

Lt. Ella Grey, Chief Engineer

Lt. Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Tae'ben, General Engineer
Captain Qel – Klingon Bird of Prey T'kengra & officers

Turan Trelar, Quentite Ambassador and engineering trainee

& Other officers from the Hanger Bay

***Location USS Galaxy, Deck 36 main Engineering***

It wasn't long after Dhani opened a com link to the bridge and informed them that Engineering was as ready as they were ever going to be that all hell broke loose.

This was the situation that Dhanishta thrived in. There was no more waiting, no more wallowing in what could be, the what if's and but's were no longer an option to think about. All that mattered was what was now.

It was a relief, no matter how frightening the out come could be, that all she had to think about was reacting to what was happening.

The ship rocked again, Dhanishta steadied herself against the edge of the 'pool' table, her eyes were fixed on the readouts before her.

"Direct hit to our port side shields." she called out assimilating the information before her. "They are holding." she added above the din.

Over the open com she could hear the Captain barking orders at the bridge crew.

"What do you need Chief?" Dhani asked wondering if her voice would carry above the din in Engineering.

"About a thousand more ships on our side would be nice." Ella replied crisply.

Dhanishta smiled slightly at that before gripping the edges of the 'pool' table once more and grinding her teeth as another impact rocked the ship.

*** Meanwhile on Deck 5; Starboard Computer Core ***

Michael found himself looking for something to hold onto every time the ship was hit by enemy fire. But besides that he tried to just concentrate on what he was doing now, and that was replacing two dedicated subprocessors as fast as he could. The processors had

literally been cooked because they couldn't cope with several major spikes in the Electro Plasma flow that powered them.

A sudden shock of enormous proportions rocked the ship like it was some small toy. A console behind Michael blew up in a spray of sparks and at the same time he was half thrown out of his seat and his head made contact with the console before him. He let out muffled cry of pain and moved his hand towards the spot where it hurt most. For some good few seconds he felt nothing but pain and saw nothing else but twinkling little stars dancing before his eyes. Smoke began to fill the room.

In the corners of his eyes Michael could just see someone kneeling down beside a body.

"Oh no... Sheerer to Sickbay! Medical emergency in the Computer Core, Starboard side, Deck 5! ...Come on Jason! Stay with me! Don't you die on me!!"

***USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering ***

The ship rocked more as a volley of fire from a Hydran Light Cruiser ripped through space and into the Galaxys hull.

Nara gripped tightly to the console and growled as it threw her gaze off her own readings and she had to pause tapping in commands to keep from falling. She would look back and enjoy the memory of this exciting adventure. But for now, it just annoyed the hell out of her, as she had to stop to grip a console as the poor ship was hit.

"We have multiple hull breaches!" Dhani shrieked. Her eyes flew across the consol, her fingertips following trying to contain the damage. "It's the port side hull." she informed the air, or so it seemed, as the engineers scurried about.

Another hit followed, sending Dhanishta flying across the floor. She cursed loudly, in Bolian this time, something she must have picked up from Jiiles; she would later contemplate his influence on her already colorful language.

Rubbing her smarting head she propped herself up on her elbows and looked about the once pristine deck. ~That last hit must have knocked out our fire suppression systems~ she moaned inwardly as she saw the flames licking their way across a consol not two meters from her.

Around her burst pies vented gas and steam into the room - filling up pretty quickly. Before she could blink her visibility was severely dampened.

Hauling herself up on to her feet Dhani grabbed a fire extinguisher and blasted the fire into submission.

"Everyone okay?" she called out, unable to see anything but a blur as shadows moved stiffly before her.

"No." Ella winced, holding a pressure against her forehead and the nice fat knot that was forming. That hadn't been just a blast impact, the ship had bounced up, down, and around like a bucking bronco!

****USS Galaxy, Deck 4; Flightdeck***

With all their babies out - fighter maintenance and the flight deck crew usually called the fighters *theirs*, an often heard saying was: "Sir, remember. It's our fighter, not yours. We only lend it to you to kick some alien asses." No pilot ever dares to contradict if the techies told him to bring his baby back in one piece.

With all those little guys out fighting, there was not much to do than watch the battle through the flight deck's transparent force field curtain, and occasionally have a glance at the flight schedule board. Traditionally there was no high tech involved in that table. A supervisor - usually a Vulcan, moved name signs from one side of the table to the other. If the supervisor's hand reached towards the board *without* one of the Valkyre fighters coming back in, it didn't mean anything good!

When the supervisor took a sign off the board, the enlisted crewman sitting next to Turan buried his face in his hands.

"What happened?" asked Turan.

The crewman looked up at the tall Quentite. A single tear was running down his cheek.

"Commander Kol ..." he answered "... he will not come back."

Turan close his eyes. Commander Kol's fighter was one of the Saber fighters he helped to rewire. There suddenly wash a rush of sorrow. Why? He never met the Klingon Commander before.

"Hull Breach!" Part Two

Lt. Ella Grey, Chief Engineer

Lt. Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Tae'ben, General Engineer
Captain Qel – Klingon Bird of Prey T'kengra & officers

Turan Trelar, Quentite Ambassador and engineering trainee

& Other officers from the Hanger Bay

***USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering***

["Helm!" Captain M'Kantu snapped over the open comm. "What in Allah's name was that?"]

The helm replied that is was some kind of interference with the systems.

"Confirmed, Sir." Tae'ben, the new Romulan engineer, told Ella. "Systems are, to use a human term, 'freaking out' all over the ship."

Ella quickly moved to another consol as the Captain's voice barked over the comm. for Engineering to find out what the problem was and make it stop.

Having felt another volley, Nara had bent her knees, still gripping the console, so when she lost her grip, she rolled backwards, hitting a wall. She was a bit sore, but not as banged up as she could have been had she tried to keep upright. She wasn't sure where she learned that. Maybe instinct?

She saw the plumes of smoke and looked around to see who was down and if any consoles worked.

Once she heard a familiar voice Dhani relaxed somewhat. Even though the Chief had said 'no' indicating that she wasn't okay, she was well enough to reply; that meant she was alive, and thus okay. For now this slightly flawed logic would do, Dhani decided as she returned to her station.

Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets; the Galaxy was beginning to take on a new from, that of Swiss cheese!

"Another hull breach, Deck 11, near the science department." Dhani's voice carried over the relative hush of Main Engineering; the last hit had really knocked the wind out of them all. She hoped it was just that, rather than the possibility that she was shouting to a room full of corpses. " Nara get up an emergency force field NOW!" she instructed.

Nara jumped to her feet and went to a console, a faint glow showing it was still working. Her fingers typed fast as she made commands to bring up what could be a life saver.

Waving the smog away was not going to help and it appeared that the ventilation system was knocked off line too. Unfortunately that wasn't a big priority right now.

["Signal from Miranda, and the Valdore"] The comm. announced. ["The retreat order is given, and confirmed. We're to light out to Point Delta, as fast as possible."]

Nara's eyes were intent on the screen as she overheard everything. The moments it took for the force field to form felt like an eternity.

"I second that, Captain." Ella said over the open comm. "The ship isn't going to be able to withstand much more -"

In the midst of the other conversations Nara called out, "Force field up!"

She was interrupted by both Saul from the bridge and the sound of the ship getting hit by another volley. No, not quite another volley, Ella thought a second before she saw her console overload.

Above the once mighty planet Romulas the pitch black skies were aflame with the raging battle. It consumed the darkness with its ferocity. From the planet surface one could see the phaser beams as they lanced through space, the overwhelming sparks like a sun going supernova, on a much smaller scale, as ships blew up; throwing their defunct crew into the vacuum of space.

The fight for Romulas would be recorded in history as yet another bloody war.

As the planets surface roared with death shrieks from soldiers, civilians and all those caught in-between, above the atmosphere, others died in the silence of space.

["Lost helm control! Going manual!"] a voice shouted over the com.

It was impossible to tell from the surface of the planet below who was winning the war for Romulas. But from the bridge of the Klingon Bird of Prey T'Kengra it was all too plain.

***Bridge of the Klingon Bird of Prey T'Kengra***

As the Federation, Romulan and Hydran ships alike fought to the death, the T'Kengra soared through the carnage, cloaked; unseen and unheard they took their cargo of Remmans to safety. But it was not without a heavy heart.

Before them they saw the defiled ships and the lifeless corpses of their allies. Captain Qel hung his head in mourning for his comrades, as he too still felt the ties of their alliance from the Dominion war, and now, the shame of witnessing them die for the lives of Romulan toDSaH!

The bridge of the T'Kengra hushed; all eyes stared intently at the screen as the Federation flag ship, USS Galaxy, came into view. Her hull already battered and broken, was taking yet another pounding from not one but two Hydran vessels. They came up along side the Galaxy, flanking her bleeding hull. And without a thought to the lives of the good people within, as is with war, they fired a crippling volley.

***USS Galaxy, Deck 4; Flightdeak***

Suddenly, the battle reached the Galaxy. The grand old lady was hit by the enemies "Hellbore" cannons. Even with the reinforced double shield the Galaxy's defense systems were not able to totally compensate the Hellbore's effect. The last hit seemed to be a full hit. The supervisor lost balance, stumbled and fell. Without showing any emotions he stood up and arranged the name signs still hanging on the 'out' side if his board. Not any other member of the flight deck crew managed to remain as calm as the supervisor did. Swearwords were to be heard in at least eight different Starfleet languages!

Suddenly, the flight deck grew silent - deadly silence. Almost every pair of eyes turned towards the force field curtain. They simply stood there unable to say a word or even move. Two Hydran attack fighters approached the Galaxy on synchronous flight patterns. The ships were already were close enough to read there group signs (if there were any!).

The supervisor was the first who found back his consciousness.

"Close the hangar bay doors. Prepare for imp ..."

***Bridge of the Kligon Bird of Prey T'Kengra***

Qel flinched, although he would later deny that he did, as the energy from the attack lanced across the Galaxys shields emanating a blue glow before it disintegrated with a shroud of lightening style electrical sparks, crisscrossing over her aft and bow leaving the former defenseless. The last of the hellbore array discharged directly into the Galaxy's Secondary Hull, the duranimun pealed back like an old Terran tin can. Fragments broke off and spiraled into space, missing the T'Kengra by inches, the back-draft affecting its course by only a point of a degree.

And then the Galaxy lit up once more looking like a Christmas tree on ecstasy as the electoral surge cascaded throughout her systems. Explosions swept like wild fire across the ships hull from its aft to its bow.

"NOOOOO!"

A terror stricken voice filled the bridge of the T'Kengra with its anguish and pain.

"That's… my sister, my sister…!"

A small struggle ensued within the bridge of the T'Kengra but the voice was soon silenced and its weeping officer forcefully removed.

"Hull Breach!" Part Three

Lt. Ella Grey, Chief Engineer

Lt. Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Tae'ben, General Engineer
Captain Qel – Klingon Bird of Prey T'kengra & officers

Turan Trelar, Quentite Ambassador and engineering trainee

& Other officers from the Hanger Bay

***USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main Engineering***

It all seemed to happen in an instant. Like that moment between sleep and awake where you dream, yet are still aware of your surroundings. It could have been a minute or an hour or just the blink of an eye. Time slows down and the voices around you drone till it mingles with all that background noise and nothing but the beat of your heart is coherent.

"We are taking heavy hits along our aft shields."

The Galaxy rocked slightly as the pounding to its already weakening shields continued.

"Attempting to compensate."

Another hit rumbled through the Galaxy, consoles flickered under the power drain. With the increasing smoke and now the strobe lighting effect anyone could say that Main Engineering was having a party!

"We are losing them!"

But alas they weren't. 'Anywhere else but here' was no longer an optional game to even muse over as the transporters were knocked off line. Once more the vibrations flowed through the deck plating, rattling everything that wasn't pinned down, and anything that was pinned down worked its way loose.

"Transferring power from all non essential systems now!"

Nara tapped at her console, wide, alert eyes scanning the information. The adrenaline rushing through her veins and sheer concentration on keeping the ship alive kept her from feeling any injury she would had gotten from her earlier tumble or the sparks she vaguely saw out of the corner of her eye from the neighboring console.

Collectively the bridge crew and all that were currently alive in Main Engineering held their breath; the seconds ticked by like hours.

"It's not working….oh my g…! Aft shields are down! SHIELDS ARE DOWN!"

Eyes widened in their sockets, faces turned shades of purple to blue as the aft port shields crumbled.

Silence for a moment.

Before the storm.

The ship didn't rock, nor did it bounce like the bucking bronco. It did more than that. It shook, shuddered, jolted, rocked, tumbled maybe? Vibrated so much that Dhani swore the floor itself was about to open up and swallow her whole.

***USS Galaxy, Deck 5; Starboard Computer Core ***

For those occupying the Starboard Computer Core it was like a bomb detonated right then and there. The shock wave was overwhelming. Consoles blowing up everywhere, death cries of men and woman around him, and debris flying all over the place.

Michael was tossed backward out of his chair and hit the wall a moment later. His head snapped back like a little twig, made contact with the wall, and fell back again. He was more unconscious than conscious when he noticed part of a bulkhead come crashing down. In a split second, using only his instinct, he moved out of the way before it rammed into the wall.

When things settled a bit he scanned for people in his vicinity. The first body was only half a meter away. Michael pulled himself up and got on his knees with the intention to crawl to whoever it was that was lying there, motionless. But he didn't get far. When he placed his left hand on the floor an unbearable pain shot through his arm and he fell down right on his face. At that very moment all his thoughts focused on where the pain came from and nothing else mattered.

***USS Galaxy, Deck 4; Flightdeck***

The Galaxy not only rocked from the enemy's hits, there was a series of explosions together with the whining and cracking of overstretched metal. The hangar's lights flickered and went dark – so did the fighter bay's LCARs. The light came back a few seconds later but the LCARs remained dark.

"Power failure ..." reported the supervisor "... we lost contact to computer core. Bridge isn't responding." Pointing towards the half closed hangar bay doors he ordered "go ... fix that before our returning fighters are dashed to pieces."

***USS Galaxy, Deck 36; Main engineering***

The ship felt like it was about to tear in half or just explode there and then. The sound of ripping mettle filled the halls of the Galaxy, the ship itself seemed to cry out in pain, the walls themselves moaning and groaning under the strain of trying against an unbelievable force to stay together.

Inside Engineering several support beams crashed to the deck below. One by one like a Mexican wave the consoles shorted, spitting out sparks, smoke and debris. Several fires erupted from the aforementioned consoles. The warp core flickered and dimmed. Above, a panel burst open, a plasma fire erupting from within. The railings on the upper level came loose, letting an engineer fall, perhaps to his death.

Nara jumped back as her console sparked itself. No thoughts of death filled her mind. She knew fear; it gripped her as she knew it gripped everyone. Her worst fear was for Saia. But she couldn't think of that now. She had no make sure no one else had to face the fear of death.

Recovering from yet another hit, or was that one multiple? Dhanishta really could tell any more. She swallowed hard, tasting the metallic tinge of her own blood. After a few moments of relative silence the noise around her thickened, breaking through her muffled hearing, she could hear people shrieking, or maybe that was Ella's mechanical voice pitching (?). Blinking several times she realized that her head was resting on the edge of the pool table, the rest of her body was slumped over it. ~Not the first time this thing has broken my fall~ she mused pealing herself off the glass, every muscle and bone in her body cracked with the exertion.

Hastily she began to wipe the blood smear from the screen with her sleeve. "Chief?" Dhani called out, her voice hoarse and husky, "The emergency force-fields aren't holding on deck 11." The consol before her eyes shifted in and out of focus, the Chiefs voice lost in the numbing silence of shell shock.

"Power failures throughout decks 9 to 14." she shouted, "The relays must have been knocked off line." she guessed. For all Dhani knew she was talking to the wall, she couldn't hear the sound of her own voice let alone anyone else's.

Smacking her comm. badge, "Eshe to McDowell."

["McDowell....here."] Michael's voice died away a bit when he clenched his teeth. He had been able to get up again and was now sitting on the floor holding his left arm with his right hand. In doing so he kept it from bleeding too badly.

"Meet me on deck nine. Power relays have failed we need to get them back up. We have people down there damit!" she added smacking her fist down.

Picking up her tool kit Dhani slung it on her shoulder and made for the door. Either the floor was moving round a lot or boy was she drunk! Clutching on to the wall for support Dhani pushed against the urge to just lie down. "Ella?" she called out once she had finally reached the door, but whatever she had to say was lost as her body swung round the open door and rolled out into the corridor as the ship rocked violently once more.

Nara was making her way to another console when the ship rocked again. Having nothing to grab, she fell and hit the wall roughly, not able to deny the sharp pain in her shoulder from hitting the wall. But it soon went away as she picked herself up.

"Graveyard Shift"

Lt. Katara Elarin, ACMO/Hazard Three (USS Miranda)

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

The voice called through the doorway from the cockpit. "Ma'am, were coming up on the combat site. We'll have visual in five."

Katara, who was busy making her final checks with the men and going over the gear, made her way up front. She looked through the view screen at the empty space outside and whispered a prayer she'd heard once. "Ancients, space is so big and my ship is so small. Let us find our way back to the light from the darkness of the void." She composed herself and took a breath. "Okay, what have we got?"

The ensign spoke while trying to keep his eyes on the controls. "Looks like what we expected. We've already passed some light debris but that's probably just been ejected from larger explosions. Hold on…getting something big on the scanner…I'll punch it up. The screen flickered into life and displayed the remains of a hulk, what appeared to be one of the carriers from the second fleet.

Katara had never really seen destruction on such a mass scale; she couldn't help but find parallels with the ship and a dead body. How it looked so still, so quiet. Little different from how it would normally but with stillness that something living just couldn't emulate.

"Another," said the helmsman, "and another. Jesus…it's like a ship graveyard. What the hell could have done this?"

Katara patted the man on the shoulder. "That's what we're here to find out." She stepped back through.

"Alright everyone listen up. We're about ten minutes out of the drop-zone so pay attention to what I'm saying. We are going to split down into sabres and…" Katara saw a sea of blank faces. "Sabres are teams of four…then we're going to search the smaller ships methodically and efficiently. The reason for this is that tactical believe the larger vessel will have been hit first to destroy the formation and integrity of the fleet, therefore, anything that will have been recorded will likely be on the ships that were mopped up afterwards."

She let this sink in before continuing. "Once that's done we will reform and examine the larger hulks. I know you've all heard the rumours about this space behemoth that supposed to have come through here so if you seen anything that looks unusual or out of place get some evidence. I'm not thinking space slime but if you do see it, get it."

A few smiles, always good. "Now, we may encounter scavengers; Hydrans or otherwise. We can't place warp signatures but it would be fair to assume that raiding parties will have been dropped off to be picked up later by their base ships. This will be to avoid the suspicion of vessels in the area. Just because you can't see them does not mean they are not there, so tread carefully.

"One final thing…some of these vessels have very low structural integrity. Be careful, no loud noises and don't fire your weapons unless you absolutely have to. The slightest thing could trigger a ship quake and bury you all.

"Our fighter will cover us and provided early warning systems against incoming ships. We're isolated from the fleet and maintaining a comms blackout so don't go geeting heroic because we are alone out here. If you get the warning, go silent and let the ships up here deal with it.

Okay?"

"Right, five minutes to drop off. Everyone get suited up…move."

"Psalm 27"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC

Ensign Faylin McAlister-Galaxy JAG/Security

Planetside

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

She watched him from the corner for a little bit, he appeared restless, but needed much rest. Sighing heavily with exhaustion herself, Faylin padded over to his cot, willing to offer some light conversation that was intended on helping him relax.

"Hey Fork." Her tone was gentle, almost motherish as she sat deeply in the cot opposite of him.

The Stagnorian was busily writing down another notation for the inevitable after action report he'd need to submit. Once 'overly' detailed, maybe evengregarious, the notes had dwindled, along with For'kel's energy levels, to practically nothing. Part of it was the fact he'd actually been 'shot'. When the hell was the last time a Colonel got shot in combat? The pain, and the bandage job Dana had done reminded him it probably wouldn't be the last time, and hopefully wouldn't be... he did want to get out of here alive after all.

The words in the entry for the day had waned to the following...

'Planned attack on suspected prison facility. No sleep in three days, no food in four. Down to two clips per person... we attack at dawn.'

Once that was done he saved the data, looking passed the PADD to the face of Faylin. She was by all indications an extraordinarily beautiful woman prior to the landing... subsequent events had downgraded her to merely attractive however. "Buestanna, afidav. How're you holding up?"

"I'd give any of my internal organs for a warm bath, chilled white wine, and a good buffing from top to bottom. Other than that, I'm perfectly peachy!

The most important question is how are you?" She caught the look in his eyes, and shot him a concerned look. "You know, you could use a good massage....too bad I don't know how to give them."

He chuckled, the sound broken up by the effect of being hammered by recent events. There was a bit of a fever and headache he just couldn't seem to escape... "Things would be too easy if you did, and we can't very well have that. What's war if you have creature comforts?" He grabbed a sip from a cup... the group having tapped into Romulus' natural water supplies. "Been working on the logs... lost count of how many casualties we've picked up."

"Ah, I see."

"Yeah." For'kel tried clearing his throat as much as possible. "Have you gotten a chance to sleep yet?"

"Me? Um. No. I can't sleep unless I have my bed with Orion silk sheets, and an experienced.......ah, let's leave that type of conversation for another time." Faylin stated with a light chuckle. She mimicked his posture on the cot with her own cot, attempting to settle down to the point of relaxation.

Leaning up on her elbow, she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Fork.....what happens if the ships retreat and leave us here?"

He tried not to make it too obvious he already thought that had happened...

it was unlikely for a space battle to take multiple days to finish. Thank the Prophets that the budding fever covered his blushing well... the word 'experienced' left particular mental imagery. "Then we wait for them to come back...cause as much damage to the Hydran forces as possible in the meantime. We need to buy them time." He got up from his cot, taking a seat next to her.

"We're not dead yet, right?"

Looking at his incoming form, Faylin sat up slowly.

"Is that in a sense of actual stoppage of the heart and brain dead, or feeling like one is dead. Because, to tell you the truth, I feel dead." She half muttered.

"You're not dead." For'kel stated flatly. "Don't start thinking like that... there's nothing more dangerous to yourself, or your comrades, then being the one person convinced she no longer has anything to lose. So long as you're alive, you have a chance to get through this."

"Are you scared? Do men like you get scared in situations such as these? It takes a lot to scare me Fork....and I'm shaking here. I just want to go home to my daughter......." She paused. "Oh........" Faylin glanced to the dirt floor, then back up to him, her eyes misting over. Sniffing, she wiped her nose on her sleeve. The spare tissues had never existed. One of those luxury items she supposed. Opening her mouth slightly, Faylin then clamped it shut.

"I have no daughter any more." The whispered tone inflicted pain in her normal speaking voice. "It's just me now."

"Hey, come here..." For'kel draped an arm over her shoulders and gently pulled her closer. Some people took the cliche 'a shoulder to cry on' quite seriously. "Look around you, afidav. You're hardly alone. The people here need you as much as you need them. I highly doubt your daughter would want you to give up on life." He offered a tired smile. "Try and relax, all right?"

"Oh, I think you misunderstood me. I don't want to die, far from it. I feel like I'm dead with all the carnage of war all over me. It's seeped into my pores....invaded me. I want to wash it away Fork. Put the memories behind me, and move on. Here I am, trying to tell you to settle, and you turn it around on me." She shook her head slightly. "Now, go get on your cot, and lie down. I'm going to tell you something that will help....I hope. It's my motto in times like these."

"Yes 'ma'am'." For'kel chuckled lightly, even offering a feint of a salute on his trip. Finding the poor excuse for a bed, he laid his rifle within easy reach, and looked up expectantly. "Now what?"

"Good, close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice. Ready?"

He gave a nod, doing as bade without hesitation. His eyes were fairly heavy anyway, it would be nice to let them down if only for a bit.

Her voice was as soft as silk, gentle, yet firm all at the same time. She spoke with a slow rhythm. "The Lord is my light and my salvation-whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life-of whom shall I be afraid? When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will have no fear, though war break out against me, even then will I be confidant..........Psalm 27." She glanced over at the weary man on the cot. "Fork?" She whispered. A content look crossed her face as she reclined on the cot next to him, he was asleep, just for a little while. Closing her eyes, she let a breath of weariness escape her. Faylin felt herself lifted into a dream state, with visions of her daughter at her side.

"Path of Glory"

Qelereth'Meshketh C'ruv's, Supreme Commander, IHV Light of Vindication (Ian)
Qelereth'Mev Th'truk, Commander, Beast Group, IHV Arrow of Shibboleth (Juan)
Gharashk'Mev N'fth'nor, Commander, Space Group, IHV Icon of Glory (MJ)

Additional material by Pat

IHV LIGHT OF VINDICATION: MATRON'S CHAMBER

Slowly, the bioform wall stretched open, allowing a singular shaft of light from the corridor to pierce the abysmal blackness within. One of the guards, a lowly Gi'Mev, bowed his tripodal legs in respect towards the unseen occupant within the chamber. Making sure to keep all three of his eyes properly

downcast, he addressed the darkness, chittering his beak quickly.

"Qelereth, Space Group Commander, reporting," he announced succinctly.

A single, loud *CLICK!* was all that was given in reply. Bowing once more, the Gi removed himself from the doorway, retracting his cental arm, and the vibro-staff it held. "Enter, Commanders," the Gi instructed, two eyes downcast while the central remained fixed, inspecting each commander as they passed through the doorway. As the Matron's bodyguard, he could get away with looking down one so high in station, if but for a moment.

Gharashk'Mev N'fth'nor, commander of the mighty cruiser Icon of Glory, stared witheringly at the impetulant guard. If it were on *his* vessel, the Gharashk would have stomped the dumb male for his challenge. As it were, this whole "meeting" was a waste of time. No need to draw it out further, whatever the cause.

Silently, he stepped across the darkened threshold, bowing low in the direction of the Matron, seated at the head of a triangular table.

From her position upon the large throne set into the shimmering reptilian skin wall, Qelereth'Meshketh C'ruv, the Supreme Commander of the Hydran WarFleet, leaned forward in her throne. The trio of eyestalks dangled outward and up, taking in the sights of the first phase of The Cleansing commander of the interstellar operations.

The lavender-painted talons of her well-manicured leather tri-ped limbs rolled over the scales of the living ship's deck one at a time in a hypnotic display of one after the other.

One of her arms reached out to the side to pop the dome casing off a pedestal, retrieving a slime-addled object that squeaked and wailed as it tried to escape her grasp. In annoyance, the Supreme Commander extended one equally massive talon from her outer left gripping appendage, turned it towards the creature in the other hand, and watched silently as one single sharp point further extended itself into an elongated, yet smaller-tipped point.

"Do you bring me good news, Gharashk'Mev? I've no interest in anything else. I can smell the devil, and it makes me anxious to test our newly acquired technology on their planet." With emphasis, and not giving the Gharshk'Mev the courtesy of face-face contact, she shot the needle-sharp point through the writhing creature's body mass, and sucked it into her maw without pause. She replaced the dome over the liquid as it sloshed when knowing death was near.

Gharashk N'fth'nor was on his last chance, and he knew it. First, there had been the debacle at Rel'kessan. Though his forces had secured the exotic Tholian "Shadowbringer" technology from the Federation (via the Roumlans, of course), the secret Federation operatives--one named Henderson, the other an Andorian female named sh'Akledor--had managed to destroy his mighty ship, the Ascendent Justice. After that humiliating blow, N'fth'nor had barely escaped with his hide--it had only been through his clan's influence with the Queen's court that he was given another "chance" to implement the Watcher project, cloning key Federation and Romulan personnel. But after the Jem'Hadar incident, most of the specimens had either been destroyed, or even worse, lost.

Case in point, Qasar Ja'sh'kal's vessel--Thunder of Victory--was still unaccounted for, lost near Kzinti space. Though N'fth'nor didn't mind hearing of Kal's demise--she was a snivelling, back-stabbing Gritch--he was more distressed by the clone specimens that had been lost: a female Caitian and male Lupin.

It had been his hope that their geneticists would have been able to create a new, more durable and powerful soldier-class from the their genomes...but without the data that was on the Victory....the effort was futile.

Still, if the work of their T'Kith'Kin allies was succesful, that wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Realizing he had paused in his thoughts a little too long, he quickly dipped his eyestalks before speaking, "Ready is my fleet, Matron.

Pushing the Beast has taxed our vessels, our new drives. Fuel, we must have soon, if we are to wage war," his beak chittered and clicked as he reported his fleet's status to the Matron.

Ignoring his response initially, she petted the chair arm, which itself was integrated into the wall seamless. "Our living ships are in need of nourishment, and I promised them the delicacy of Romulan flesh. Do you wish to disappoint me, N'fth'nor? I'm sure even your rotten hide will satisfy their needs, albeit temporarily."

He deigned not answer her question. First, because he hated her. She was only a Matron because she had mated with most of the Royal court.

She had not killed anyone for her station; she had not properly challenged. Second, even if she *would* attempt murder, he had...."assurances" that such a plan would not be successful.

Ahead of the magnificent Starbeast that had tamed itself for its Hydran masters, with the promise of infidel ruin, a comparatively diminutive vessel glided softly. Within was the notoriously iron-willed woman who had been given the honor of leading the Beast's guard, until they could unleash it upon their loathed enemy.

That was, of course, a lofty way to describe how it the "taming" of the Starbeast had occurred. While many of the Hydran leadership beleived that the God had willingly allied itself to the Cause - the truth was, T'Kith'Kin bionanites had finally proved the key to the military's harnessing of the mighty creatures.

The strength of the Hydran Sovereignty owed much of the current strength to their alien benefactors - including the final subjugation of the hated Lyrans. . And with the conquest of Romulus, The Star Kingdom would no longer be considered a backwater. The Hydran people would have thier due.

Qelereth'Mev Th'truk had served C'ruv for many a year, often as the Matron's second earlier in their illustrious careers. Now, she had been honored once again by her old companion, besting all of the other women, and even all of the warrior-class males, to bring the fist of destiny down upon the heathen Romulans.

Her tentacles rising in what pased for a Hydran smile, she looked at the visual in front of her. "Our good pet is ready, Matron."

{*Pet*, indeed,} N'fth'nor thought, trying not to sneer at Th'truk's image.

Her attention caught by the entrance and announcement of the Beast Group Mev, C'ruv's row of teeth curled up in what could most likely be defined as a smile.

An Earther would compare it to a bear or piranha, and was just as terrifying and deadly to any but a Hydran. A female one that is. The males, subservient as they were, still tended to have a need for discipline. They can be so crude and shiftless.

"Good." the Matron replied. "Hold the pet n reserve. Our forces have so far enjoyed too easy a victory. Let us allow the Romulans and thier Federation allies the attempt to efend thi world. It will be an excellent training exercise."

"By your will, Matron."

"Of course." "Mev Th'truk," the Supreme Commander's tone and pitch completely changed to one of pride and favor with her second-in-command, and leader of the most important part of the WarFleet. She waved off N'fth'nor, his report shunted aside in favor of her hand-picked maiden. "The Gods bless us both on the eve of battle." Behind Qelereth'Mev Th'truk stood an immense pantheon of house gods, some minor, one major. Upon the largest pedestal behind the Beast Commander rose a statue that rose several meters up and out to the sides, its branches meshing out into a crystallized form of the upper half of the deciduous woody plants after their leaves had fallen. The only difference was that this one was quartz-like, and sparkled its white surface in certain angles of light.

"Open the viewing port!" Above the crystal major God, the groan of a panel cut through the Matron's Chamber, and all looked up as the dome slid itself away to reveal a ceiling of stars, Hydran ships, and the core of their fleet - the Starbeast.

The stars beyond it bore a strange cast, due to the effect of the Shadowbringer technology. Distortion waves surrounded the ship and gave everything a wavy, etherreal cast.

Below them spread the Romulan star system - ripe for the plucking.

"Bring the Fleet, save for the Herald and it's tenders, back into real space." the Matron ordered, and her crew quickly complied. "Let them see us coming. Let them fear us. N'fth'nor, what news of the ground troops?"

"The ground assault fleet is in position, coming from the oppositeside of the planet. As predicted, the bulk of their fleet is moving to a position between us and the planet. The planetary defense network will be the only thing in their way."

"That will be no trouble." the Matron said with a dismissive wave.

And considering the coming carnage, she smiled.

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

Later..

Their troops had landed. Whether the Romulans knew it or not, their homeworld was now under the rule of the Hydran Star Kingdom.

Their fleet's defense had been spirited, but, the Matron concluded, it was time to bring this farce to a close.

"Mev, release the herald. May it deliver the prophecy and shed us of our burdens." "By your will, Matron."

"As if anything else mattered."

The glorious god entered realspace then, directly into the middle of the engagement. Those vessels of the Imperial WarFleet which did not get clear were acceptable sacrifices to appease the God's hunger, as it began to decimate the enemy Fleet.

Within ten minutes, the Federation and Romulan forces were retreating from the system they'd been so valiantly trying to defend.

Romulus was theirs.

"Order the Fleet to pursue.." N'fth'nor started, but was cut off by a derisive sound from the Matron. It was a cruel, calculating sound, and the words froze the blood in his veins.

"No." she said. "Let them run. Let them teach the others to be afraid.

We will not be stopped on our path to glory. Let them tell the galaxy of this fact. Let them fear US." she said coldly.

"Whispers of Life, Whispers of Death, Part 1"

Elaithin Jii

K. Jordan Elaithin

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff

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

Ki Baratan

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

One Day after Withdrawal

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

Elaithin Jii and his wife, Jordan Elaithin, were darting down an alleyway on the seedy side of the city. One of Kerec's people had heard of a lone Starfleet officer that had evaded capture in one of the more heavily occupied sections. Unfortunately, the 'Resistance' wasn't exactly on its feet yet, and the Elaithins had been the only people who could be spared to retrieve the man.

The sounds of violence weren't too hard to follow.

He was leading the way. He was somewhat familiar with the city, having extensively familiarized himself with Ki Baratan years ago when he, Price, Dallas and Peterson had been dispatched here. Six years hadn't changed this section of the city much, so he was able to find some fairly safe paths.

Jordan was following mutely behind him, a notion that concerned Jii more and more with each passing day. While she had moments where her old fire and spark shone through, she was much quieter than he ever recalled her being.

He'd put it off, till now, to the trauma of what Jordan had been through. More and more though, he became convinced that there was a lot more to it than that.

And wasn't that just always the way?

Still, no time to be sorting it out now. Like always, there was a "situation", a mission... and it had to be dealt with.

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

Ki Baratan

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

One Day after Withdrawal

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

Death roared out a challenge as it dropped in the midst of the Hydran marines from the second floor of a ruined building, driving one of them to the ground under the impact of Death's weight.

It would, perhaps, been smarter to have dropped silently on them, or smarter still to have ambushed them at range, but that wouldn't do. Not here, not now. It had been days since the invasion, or perhaps only a single day, Death wasn't sure. It was sure, however, of two things:

One, the bloody comm. badge that was attached to the second Hydran from the left's battle harness like a pagan trophy belonged to Petty Officer Kevin Jannuzzo - the fifth Galaxy crewman that had missed the evacuation shuttle. That wasn't any direct evidence that the Hydran had killed Jannuzzo, but the conclusion was certain enough that Death felt safe with it. He was, after all, never wrong about things having to do with his realm.

Two, four meters away from the Hydrans, invisible from their position on the ground, but plainly visible to Death four meters in the air, were a trio of small Romulan children, none older than ten by the looks of them, cowering behind a ruined wall. They were not Death's sheep - no one had given them to him as Starfleet had given Jannuzzo and the others aboard the Galaxy - but something inside him rebelled against letting the Hydrans have them, or using them as bait to draw the Hydrans into an ambush. Someone, he thought, someone whose face and name were just out of reach, would want him to save them.

Since the Hydrans had already sealed their fates by killing Jannuzzo, the decision was easy.

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

Ki Baratan

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

One Day after Withdrawal

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

Jordan followed mutely behind her husband through the war-ravaged streets of Ki Baratan. It looked like any city that was experiencing this brand of war and slaughter. The skies were grey, mostly from the fires that burned throughout the planet. Winds had picked up as a result of the sudden changes within the atmosphere, the disturbances of the status quo. That's what people didn't understand; planets were living beings, and they reacted like one.

Of course, it also didn't help that the Hydran forces had destroyed most of the climate regulators on the planet. The weather Romulus would normal experience was out in full force, and it was obviously the rainy and windy season in the Capital City. The downpour of the morning had faded substantially, coming down more as a light mist than anything else.

Jordan wiped away a thick piece of saturated bangs from her forehead as she paused a moment with her husband. He had a Starfleet tricorder; he'd found it amongst the remains of a Marine detachment from the Concorde. They'd found a few, but this one had the highest charge and the greatest range because of that. She'd chosen not to carry one. Why have two? If they got separated, her instincts would reunite them. If enemies were coming, he would know. It would only slow her down.

Besides. She wasn't sure she'd necessarily know how to use it anyway.

Since the shock to her system upon the Fleet's departure, she was feeling even less herself than she was before.

This assuming there was, any longer, a self to feel.

She was literally seeing things differently -- it almost seemed as though the entire color spectrum had altered; energies hung off the edges of the buildings and settled in footprints along the broken stone

pathways making up the alleys snaking through the city. It almost

reminded her of thermal energies she used to track as an Intelligence Operative. It was how she identified her mark, how she tracked him or her through whatever situation they were in. If you had sensitive enough technologies, you could find the variations within an individual's signatures, and when you got down to the patterns of the one hundredth of a degree, there were no two that matched: it was more reliable than DNA and was one of the major factors in precise life sign identification. The advantage being, of course, that you didn't need a

ship: simply a highly calibrated device the size of an eye-patch.

But this trail wasn't of thermal energies. Not of the terrestrial sort, anyway; not really. Other instincts made her aware of them: her instincts, and her husband's hand signals and body language reporting the results of his tricorder scans.

Jordan looked up toward the sky again as a roll of thunder moved through the clouds. The winds had altered course; once again, they were blowing the soot into the city and it was beginning to collect on the misty rain. The smell alone was enough to make someone sick, but she didn't even smell it anymore.

Perhaps she would have, though, if she wasn't distracted by a sensation she found she knew very well.

Death.

"Jii--" she began, unsure as to whether or not she spoke it or communicated it in some other way.

He held up his hand and pressed himself against the wall of the building. She tuned-in, pulling out of her sequestered silence, and heard what she hadn't been hearing.

Battle. Brutal, bloody, individual battle.

Ensign Nicholi Keough

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

USS Galaxy, NCC-70637

Deck 32, Corridor 5, Section J2

During Hydran Attack

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

The vessel shook with a veracity one had never experienced, even felt before. The deck plating rattled under the sheer stress of the incessant hostile fire of the Hydran vessels. The stress placed upon every conceivable inch of the USS Galaxy was that of mind-boggling tension, causing strain upon the, once, sealed welds and remaining seams that had been reinforced and guaranteed to remain intact. And yet, under the constant and unrelenting attack of the enemy vessel those very seams snapped apart like a twig bent under the most extreme of pressures.

The howling of bent metal filled the corridor along with a number of other startling sounds. The structural integrity of the actual vessel was starting to waver, and it was evident in the sudden destruction of metal not meant to bend in such ways.

Corridor five of deck thirty two was but a sight to behold. The damages incurred by the attack were unforgivable and scarred that of the once beautiful vessel. Metal support beams, once set in place to provide structural stability, now lay at various angles upon the deck. One end of the long beams still welded to an unseen place within the above causeways. Wires, circuitries and other long strips of electrical support wire was strewn about the deck, some still hanging from that same unseen place above head. Bulkheads clattered to the deck, the sound deafening in respect to the other chaos occurring at the same point in time. Once, brilliantly illuminated consoles burst, sending ample amounts of singeing sparks in every direction. Small plasma fires lit up the darkened corridor with an eerie illumination that cast dark shadows on the nearby walls and into the deep crevices of the daunting corners. The smell of smoke and burnt circuitry filled the air, its poignant stench burned one's nostrils as they breathed in deeply, coughing in reaction to the tainted air.

His body lay still for but a moment, as wits were gathered with the current situation. His back raised and fell with deep breaths of the putrid air; the harsh toxin's filling his lungs causing raspy coughs that produced darkened phlegm. The officer's ears still rang, even after the end of the continuous explosions that had enveloped the nearby corridor.

The young boy shook his head for a moment, hoping to knock the deafness from his mind. Dust and burn debris fell loose from his long, spiked hair, colored slate due to the explosive dust that refused to settle.

Placing either hand down on the carpet, the Ensign attempted to push himself to a kneeling position. Shards and slivers of glass penetrated taught skin, drawing blood and a few obscenities from the officer. As he pulled himself to a half standing position, he leaned back against one of the only walls that had some how remained undamaged through the entire ordeal.

Again, the young man shook his head attempting to knock the silence from his mind. Only after he brought shaking hands to his ears did he discover trace amounts of blood and debris clogging either orifice. He brushed them clear and was pleased to welcome some kind of noise.

His, once, pristine gold uniform was now an utter mess. There were several areas on the actual dress attire that were now ripped and tattered, smudged with dirt and grim. The shiny arrowhead shaped commbadge still held a sort of regal presence upon his right peck and the single pip upon the dirty gold undershirt still remained untarnished.

He was, generally, in good condition. Besides the palms of his hands, there was but a small laceration just above his left eye. A small trail of blood coated the area around the open wound and dried as it dripped down the left side of his face, which was smudged with dirt and grim just as much as the uniform.

Labored breaths continued to follow as he looked around through jet black eyes, surveying the area. Environmental controls in this particular section of the deck must have been offline. His gaze flickered about attempting to locate the appropriate hatch that might contain an override control to filter the air.

The Ensign Security Officer had followed the orders of his superior's and remained onboard the USS Galaxy, he was to help oversee the general calm and orderliness of the vessel with its civilian/family population. He had been strategically placed on the deck containing the highest population of crewmember civilian population. He and three other officer's had been present when the attack occurred, after he concluded with venting the toxins from the air, he would attempt to locate the other Security personnel.

Wiping injured hands upon his thighs; Ensign Nicholi Keough pushed himself to a full standing position and stumbled down the corridor as the deck plating continued to shake violently. The attack, it seemed, was still far from over. It was then that Nicky wondered how long the USS Galaxy would actually last under the brutal enemy fire.

If one idea had remained ever true, it was that the Ensign had not been expecting to be assigned to a vessel such as this. He felt as though he were not worth such an assignment and often considered himself belittled by the experience. His personality was still to shy and uncharacteristic of a Betazoid man. Yet, that could not be helped, and where Starfleet ordered you to serve…you served. And, although, he remained ever scared…vigilant of the fear that filled his body, he would do what was required of him to the best of his ability.

In all reality, the Ensign had ever intention of being assigned to Starfleet Command as one of their Security Officer's, but it would seem they felt his abilities and qualities were best served on the Frontier. After all, you did not become a Starfleet Officer with hopes and aspirations of remaining behind a desk on Earth, filing away reports from the fleet you wished were your own.

As the Ensign's thoughts drifted back to reality he noticed a young Security Officer lying lifeless but several feet away from his current position. He approached the body and noticed its ravaged state. It looked as if this particular woman had met her fate in the most painful of ways. A beam lay atop her crushed chest, her face contorted in a pitiful display of pain and comfort all wrapped up into one.

Just to bemuse himself and settle any doubt held within, the Ensign leaned down, shifting the Type IIF personal phaser off to the side of his belt. Two fingers came to rest upon the young, blond woman's neck; just as he had thought, no pulse.

Chief Petty Officer Jessica Arsenault had been a fine comrade and a trusted ally within the department. His heart sank as reality of her death slowly sunk in. It might have been better if he were not the one to have found her in such a state, but he had, and new her fate had been sealed the minute she put on that uniform during the earlier hours of the day. She and Nicky had went out for drinks with a couple of the other Security personnel a number of times; she had been one who befriended him when he first arrived, even helped him acclimate to the ship and shift they both worked. She was an exceptional officer who did her duties well and went above and beyond the call of duty. Jessica was a beautiful woman, with a pure heart and stunning personality that lit up a room when she walked in. The loss of her as an officer and as a friend would be difficult, and it had yet to hit Nicky just how much he truly cared for the officer lying there, just under him as pain stricken eyes shifted away from her and to the corridor once more.

The Ensign tapped his commbadge, "Ensign Keough to Sickbay, we need medics sent to deck thirty two for medical emergencies. Keough out." The Security Officer tapped the commbadge once more to close the channel as he finally was able to get his bearings straight.

A few more bulkhead panels ahead were the environmental control systems. He stood up, allowing one more saddened look in the direction of Jessica before he turned on his heal and quickly made his way down the corridor.

Nicky reached the appropriate section of bulkhead and removed the wall panel. The circuits inside were slightly burned after a power overload, but seemed to still have partial control.

**That must be why we still have partial life support in this section.** He thought to himself as his eyes darted up and down the corridor.

Like many personnel onboard, the Ensign had been trained in basic engineering skills, nothing more then how to shut off an over loaded console or redirect basic power. But, after serving onboard the USS Surak during his Senior year in the Academy, he had been taught a few tricks of the trade, unbeknownst many of the crew onboard the USS Galaxy, Nicky was a pretty skilled field officer when it came to tinkering with technology.

As Nicky tapped an energy reallocation control mechanism, his voice called out as it activated the internal ship communications.

"Ensign Keough to Ensign T'Rei." There was a moment's silence as the deck below the Security Officer continued to vibrate uncontrollably, almost knocking him to the ground.

=/\= "This is Ensign T'Rei, go ahead Mr. Keough." Nicky could not help but smile as the Vulcan's emotionless voice filled his ears. Ensign T'Rei had been another assigned to this particular deck. Nicky was relieved to know he was still in one piece.

"What's your current location and status?" He inquired as the final command was inputted. The wall panel hummed to life with full power and the toxic air that caused moments of uncontrollable coughing soon started to filter itself out.

=/\= "I am currently checking on crewmembers throughout sections J ten through J twenty five. I am unharmed, although Ensign Merryweather is severely injured. He has been taken to Main Sickbay." =/\=

Nicky nodded, "understood. Chief Petty Officer Arsenault is down as well, her condition is not healable. I have restored life support to this section of the deck, it's pretty torn up down here, T'Rei…I don't know if many survived."

There was but a moment's silence as the vibrations seemed to suddenly dwindled, perhaps were they warping out of the section in retreat? One could only hope.

=/\= "Understood, I have asked for reinforcements and medical assistance. Contact me if you need any further assistance." =/\= The communications channel then went black as the Ensign replaced the wall panel.

With a final cough that expelled more dark spittle, the Ensign made his way, stumbling down the corridor, in hopes of finding any survivors from the various explosions on this deck. It was a search, he hoped, would prove most positive.

OOC - Runs concurrent with 'First Salvo'. Apologies if this is a little out of place, I haven't had access for over a week, so I'm not sure where we're up to, but I wanted to get this out before it was too late. Can someone give me an update one where abouts we're up to on the Battle for Romulus outline, so I know what to write and what not to do yet.

"Defending ch'Rihan"

Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer USS London

-----

"Close up to position Gamma Lieutenant, off Galaxy's lower Flank.

Stand by for Maneuver Alpha" Kent ordered, getting comfortable in his Command Chair. "Give me a visual of the Hydran Fleet." The viewscreen image of ch'Rihan changed to a sensor enhanced version of the approaching Hydran Fleet. Hydran ships filled the screen, and Kent noted that he'd never seen so many ships that belonged to the elusive race. He got the feeling though that some of the other crews in the fleet had seen a good deal more.

After learning as much as he could about 'The Havras Incident', he counted his blessings that he'd not been there. Incident was a rather ill-fitting word to describe it. Slaughter was one of many he'd read that had been associated with Havras. There were probably a dozen other words too, when the Triad had first appeared, marking the increased threat from the Breen, the T'Kith'Kin and the Hydrans.

For now, all they had to worry about was the Hydrans. He thanked whatever Gods existed that gave them that small mercy.

"Miranda's opening a Channel to the Hydran Fleet Captain", someone called out from the Communications console.

"Put it up" Kent ordered. Instantly, the Bridges Audio systems played the message as Captain Summers addressed the Enemy.

"<I'm Captain Christopher Summers of the Federation Starship Miranda.

As Commander of the Starfleet forces in-system, and speaking on behalf of our allies in the Romulan Star Empire, I hereby inform you that you are in violation of sovereign Romulan Territory. If you turn your fleet around and leave now, no harm will come to your ships.>"

["No."] was all that came from the Hydrans vessel. Then it cut comms.

"I guess this is it then Captain, the end of the universe." Commander Mellor muttered from beside him.

"It certainly seems that way Commander." Logan replied. Punching the Comm Button, he said, "Logan to all hands, prepare to engage the enemy." Closing the Channel, he watched the viewscreen intently, waiting for either the Hydrans, the Romulans, or any of the Federation Starships to move first.

The comm system came to life then with Captain Summers' voice."<All ship, arm all weapons. On for attack plan Alpha. Go.>"

"You heard the man" Logan called out, "Follow the Galaxy in, co-ordinate your fire the Galaxy's Tactical Officer, we've got a planet to defent."

"Whispers of Life, Whispers of Death, Part 2"

Elaithin Jii

K. Jordan Elaithin

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

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

Ki Baratan

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

One Day after Withdrawal

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

The Hydrans started to turn and lift their weapons but it was too late; they'd let Death into their midst and there was no stopping him.

The first died swiftly, one of his companion's fusion rifles blowing a hole through him as Death grabbed the weapon with his right hand and jerked it into line with the Hydran's back. The second Hydran to die was the one on the ground, killed as the panicked rifleman jerked the weapon back, still firing, and hit them twice, when Death forced the muzzle down. Finally realizing what was happening, the rifleman released his weapon and reached for a sidearm, which gave Death time to fire the phaser in its left hand and send the fourth - the one wearing Jannuzzo's comm. badge - spinning into a pile of rubble.

The rifleman completed his draw, raised his fusion pistol -- and took a phaser bolt through the head as Death fired back under his arm, seemingly without looking, all his attention on the downed Hydran with the comm. badge.

Holstering the phaser, Death knelt down beside the Hydran, a terrible smile on his face as he reached out and knocked on the Hydran's faceplate, as if it were a door, to get the wounded soldier's attention. Reaching down, Death unclipped the bloody comm badge from the alien's harness and held it up in his left hand so that the Hydran could see it.

"He was mine," Death whispered, the words laced with the screams of the damned. "Not yours. Mine." His right hand bunched into a fist and drew back, driving down into - and through - the faceplate, the reinforced knuckles of the Hazard Team suit's gauntlet shattering the plastisteel starred by the earlier phaser blast and letting the methane inside vent freely to the cool Romulan air.

The Hydran started to thrash wildly, its hands reaching for repair patches, but Death's smile widened until it was almost inhuman and he shook his head, "No, no time for that. His life was mine - and now yours is. Time to die."

Death reached inside the open faceplate with his free right hand, something green flashed, and a gout of flame spurted out as the methane atmosphere inside the suit caught fire inside it. Withdrawing his hand, Death shook it to extinguish the flicker of flame clinging to it and stood up as the Hydran thrashed at his feet, the scream of the escaping and burning methane mingling with that of the Hydran within it until it faded away into silence and the motion of the suit ceased.

Death straightened up and his head tilted to the side facing the alleyway.

"You can come out now," he whispered, the words slipping through the air on the wafting odor of burned Hydran flesh, their impact like knives of ice digging under the skin.

Jordan felt the small orb around her neck brighten at the sound, felt the prick on her back, over the Mark left in her skin by Those Who Remade. It was this that shielded her from whatever she might have been felt merely as herself. She moved first, almost instinctively, almost guided, moving before her husband, before the children clustered behind debris, all frozen, if only momentarily, from the sensation that coasted through the air. Jordan guided herself around Jii's outstretched arm and into the alleyway, cocking her head as she paused a few feet in and stared upon the man in the torn Hazard's uniform, his human sweat mingling with the Romulan rain and the Hydran's blood and the dirt that blew around them. But that was all the outside, the facade available for the viewing pleasure of his life's audience.

Inside, it was a little different.

Jii shook his head. The universe was a small place sometimes, it seemed.

"Lieutenant Krieghoff." he called out, shaking his head, and shouldering the disruptor rifle.

Something inside Jordan tightened; a warm rush down the back of her neck as her prior memories met her current self. She knew Victor Krieghoff's name. She heard it spoken in the fleet, perhaps she had even had a dealing or two with him; Jii certainly had, she could feel her husband's familiarity as he maneuvered himself into the alleyway, standing behind her. She could even hear Jii's voice, though she didn't understand his words.

Death knew the voice, it was from before - it was the Captain from the other ship, not his captain, M'Kantu, but the one from the Miranda. The one that had found the One - and lost her. The one that had broken with that loss and had been wandering. "Hello, Captain," he whispered without turning around, hands stowing the comm. badge away with the first one that he'd found.

Jordan only watched. Since they had started following this man, she could see down into his depths; it melted off him, and now that she was standing mere feet away, she could see it far greater. Slipping, mingling, held by the strength of the man's Pagh, Spirit, Self was another... an entity, that did not belong, one glowing through the spectrum of green, black threading through its energy, fluctuating and altering, yet remaining oddly consistent. It was a beast caught in an iron cage, trapped, unable to break out. But occasionally, it bled through, its nature gently fusing with that which held it.

Jii moved, but Jordan's arm went outward lightning fast, hitting across his chest and stopping him in his tracks with an odd an unexpected power. Her eyes lit with a deep blue energy, one that began at her pupils and spread out across the white. She looked fiercely upon her husband and then back toward the Lieutenant. What this was, she couldn't say, but it was revealed to her for a purpose, and until she could ascertain what that purpose was, she had to do one thing.

Make sure it was safe.

Unfortunately, Jii didn't notice the glow or any of the more unusual behaviour on Jordan's part - all his attention was faced forward, at Victor.

"Is it the Being or the Other in control?" she questioned the Lieutenant, her voice slightly altered, more a wind or an echo than a voice.

"Hmmm?' Death whispered back. He turned and looked at Jordan, his head tilting to the side, a curious expression creeping across his face, like a child with a new toy. "Do I know you?" He stepped forward, the fascinated expression never leaving his face as he walked round Jordan, looking at her. "Oh yes... the Captain's wife. His One. Fascinating. Aren't you supposed to be... dead?" He leaned forward and sniffed at her once, and then his expression cleared. "Ah, no – you aren't, are you? It was as the Captain told me - a mistake." Death smiled, the expression still terrible, but giving the impression that he was, at the same time, pleased. "How nice for the both of you that someone fixed it. Congratulations."

"Erm, thanks." Jii frowned. Kreighoff was behaving a LOT differently from the last time he'd seen him....

A flicker of a frown crossed Death's face and he looked back over his shoulder at the hiding spot of the three children; their three small faces peering over the rubble at the adults. "The children," he whispered, a touch of the chill gone from his words. Death's frown deepened, and Jordan could clearly see the bonds around the thing within the man in front of her tighten and reinforce themselves, surrounding the twisting entity of green with forged pieces of the man's soul. As she watched, it was smothered before her eyes, buried until it was no longer Death that stood in front of her, but merely a man - terrifying in a lesser way, his presence pushing at her, his presence pushing at her, sending a tiny voice through her brain, telling her to run and flee from him, but no longer the primal force that had been there a moment before.

Pale, almost colorless blue eyes looked at Jordan for a moment, blinked once, and then the man said, in an odd, toneless way, "Bad enough that I frighten children normally, but even here, in this place and time, there are things they don't need to see." His eyes lifted, looked past her to Jii. "Sir," he said with a nod.

Jordan's arm dropped, allowing Jii to move past. The energy within her pulling away, the glow of the necklace all but dissipating.

Jii was observant enough to know that something had just transpired but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was something way beyond his level of comprehensions. Still, he could only handle so much weirdness at a time, and was glad at the fact that both his wife and their new... companion...

were behaving as normally as possible. "You're not gonna give up on that "sir" thing, are you, Krieghoff?"

"Should I, sir?" Victor asked, head still tilted to the side. "Have you done something that would mean I shouldn't respect you?"

"Nothing that bears repeating." Elaithin replied. Granted, it wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no', but there was very little need to go into all of that.

"Good," Victor nodded. "Is there something that you or your wife need?" He looked over his shoulder at the children. "If not, then I would ask you to evacuate the children behind me to a point of safety - this isn't their place any more."

"We came for you, actually." Jii supplied.

That was unexpected. "Me?" Victor asked quietly. "Why?"

"Report of a sole Starfleet officer in this part of the Government sector, mowing through Hydrans like there was no tomorrow. Figured we'd bail you out before you get yourself killed." the former Captain clarified. "Not that you really seem to need the help."

Victor blinked once, slowly. "No, I won't die here," he said calmly, with an absolute assurance that was, in its own way, frightening. "I won't give myself permission to die. I have things to do, a mission to complete." And a girl waiting for him in the stars.

"Then how about this? I need your help Lieutenant. A fighter like you's going to come in damn handy these next few days. What's this "mission" of yours?" the Bajoran asked, shifting the weight of the rifle on his shoulder.

"There were six Galaxy crewmen that missed the evacuation shuttle I was assigned to supervise." Victor touched a pocket on the Hazard Team uniform.

"There are four now; the Hydrans killed two of them. The crewmen were mine, Starfleet gave them to me, and the Hydrans took them... so I'm planning to kill them for that. All of them."

Elaithin's eyes locked with Kreighoff's as the security man explained, and Jii gave a grim nod. "I understand." he said quietly. "A deal, then?"

As her husband and the Lieutenant spoke, Jordan looked backward toward the children. There were three, the oldest perhaps ten, the youngest far younger than that. Their large frightened eyes stared from around the corner at the non-Romulan adults standing in the midst of massacred Hydran bodies. Her throat tightened, tears stinging her eyes as she thought for only perhaps the second time since her Return, of her own children, safe on another world, but without their parents. Sometimes, she could feel them, but mostly they were just the shadows of memory from another existence, an existence that felt very far away.

Regardless. Motherhood was perhaps the strongest instinct a woman possessed. It was what overrode the instinct for self preservation. It put the protection of her children above all else.

"What kind of a deal?" Victor asked.

"I help you with your mission, Lieutenant, and you help me with mine?"

Victor considered the offer. It would be easier to kill the Hydrans if there were two of them, true, but something wasn't right, something felt not right about the offer. "I'm not opposed to that," he said slowly, frowning as he tried to concentrate and figure out what it was that was bothering him. "But..." His eyes fell on Jordan and then the children, and in a flash, he understood. "I think that just the patrol following this one is enough for now. The Hydrans aren't going anywhere - and my missing crewmen may be part of whatever group you're working with. Finding them is more important than killing Hydrans right now." It was obvious, after all:

Death had to be balanced with Life.

"Jord--"

"Yes, Jii," she said, softly, her voice distant. "Go. Do what it is you feel you must. I'll take the children."

She was already moving away, carefully toward the three, the oldest of which was already coming out to meet her, the two others behind. Two boys and the youngest was a girl. She might have been four, maybe five, and she broke down in tears, deciding to run to the strange human woman. Jordan lifted the child, who grabbed at the gently glowing orb around her neck, holding the necklace in her hand a moment before she suddenly quieted, settled, and calmed, resting her head on Jordan's shoulder, as comfortable as though she belonged there.

Jii held up a hand to Victor momentarily as he approached his wife.

"Jordan?" he whispered, the now familiar concern over every little thing she did welling up once again.

Jordan looked at her husband as he stood close. "Jii -- You want to go with him, to do whatever it is that man needs to do. I am not in the state that I need to be in to be around that man for very long. I can't explain. But right now, it's best." She pulled her eyes away from his for a moment, one hand dropping to touch the head of the oldest Romulan boy who was hiding behind her. "This saves you from having to ask or tell me to go. Take it as that. Don't worry." She moved her hand, touched his face, offered a small smile. "We'll be fine; nothing will harm us, I promise."

"All right." he replied. The sounds of another Hydran patrol weren't far off, so he gave his wife a quick kiss. "Be safe."

"There's no such thing, here, Jii," she said. "As we found out seven months ago, there's no such thing, anywhere. But I'll be there, when you get back. And you better get back."

That at least, Victor could guarantee. "He'll return to you," he said quietly, his words carrying themselves with the same absolute certainty as before. "I promise." His eyes met Jordan's. "I won't give him permission to die. No one should lose the One that makes them whole twice."

"It's a part of life," Jordan said. "Not even death can get in the way of that."

She turned, holding the youngest tight with the other children close by, and she glanced back over her shoulder, getting a glance of her husband one last time before she turned the corner.

As they left, Jii unholstered his rifle. "Alright, Mr. Kreighoff. Let's go hunting."

"School's Out for Summer, Part 1"

Lieutenant (Marine) Amaweh - SFMC (Colin)
Sergeant Raferty Fisher, SFMC (Stuart)
Corporal Brian Davies-Jeppo, Marksman - Galaxy SFMC (Colin)
Corporal James Taggert, SFMC (Stuart)
Private Lia Men'a'NoS - Galaxy SFMC (Stuart)
Private Sarivok, Weapon Specialist - SFMC (Colin)
CPO Georgina "Georgie" DeMatta, Thunderbird Tactical Officer (Stuart)

****

Ra'tleihfi

ch'Rihan

****

They had been following the Hydran patrol for two blocks now and still had not found a decent position to attack them from. And Lia wanted to take them out as soon as possible as she was feeling anxious. Every second they delayed attacking them meant another second where they, or some other Hydran patrol might spot them and attack, taking the advantage away from them. "Sir," she looked over at the team lead, "Why don't we just bait them with an 'injured' marine and ambush them?"

Georgie looked over at the Deltan with a mix of surprise and anger. She wanted the Hydrans dead as much as the next guy, but getting killed wasn't something she was keen on at this particular point of time in her life. "I assume that you are volunteering as the bait?"

"As long as you all leave me one of those bastards to kill!" She replied, a great beaming smile filling her pale face, before looking to the team lead. "Boss?"

The tall human didn't turn his eyes away from what he was seeing ahead of him. Lieutenant Amaweh came from a long tradition of Blackfoot warriors, and he took his job very, very seriously. "I don't like the idea of using a soldier as bait. There's no war conventions between the Federation and the Hydrans; they're likely to shoot at first opportunity."

Behind him, the one surviving member of his original paratroop team nodded stoically. Sarivok was a Vulcan, but where most Vulcans were thin and statuesque, Sarivok was not. He was a solid brick of a man who could easily carry the heaviest of weapons without care for the weight, and still have the strength to carry a man from the field. Amaweh relied on him heavily and was glad that he had made it. They had picked up a straggler on their way to the front, Corporal Davies-Jeppo - the remainder of one of Galaxy's fire teams that was dispersed when they came under heavy fire.

Sarivok shrugged the heavy phaser cannon higher onto his shoulder and spoke with crisp Vulcan tones, "The Private's suggestion can be made use of, Sir. We may be able to use something other than her life as bait."

Lieutenant Amaweh's coal black eyes narrowed slightly as he considered , still staring out in the direction of the patrol. Then he spoke.

"DeMatta, take your team up the alley to the right and set up a flanking position. Sarivok, you're anchor - behind that wall," He gestured at a gutted-out building which was convenient for a heavy weapon to set behind. "Jeppo, you and I will fire on them from behind and then cut right. They should hit your firing line about fifteen seconds after we've opened fire, DeMatta. Be ready. Go."

Georgina nodded. Taking Lia with her, the two women quickly took off to find vantage points from which to ambush the Hydrans. The alleyway was filled with debris from the surrounding buildings and it was by luck that she had spotted the broken wall on the second level of one of the buildings. Pointing in the direction, she indicated a good point for attacking them.

Lia nodded. She had her eye on a pile of rubble, and the slight hollow that sat next to it. "How about we attack from both ways Georgie?" He pointed out her ideal hiding spot.

Georgina nodded. "Boost me up first."

Lia nodded again. The Hydrans wouldn't know what hit them.

With the two of them in position, they trained their rifles towards the entrance of the alleyway and waited for the signal. Their diligence wasn't wasted - mere moments later the sound of a fire exchange lit up the roadway nearby. The two marines shifted in place and readied their weapons while the rest of the piecemeal fire team began their bloody work.

Jeppo squeezed the trigger of his rifle and counted to two under his breath as he ran - the phaser blast cut a fiery orange swath across the roadway, cutting down the first Hydran and sending the rest scattering.

Methane burst into flame from the heat. While he ran the wall beside him erupted into shrapnel from the Hydran's reply. He swore loudly and ran alongside the Lieutenant, ducking to shield himself from the splintering rock as they dashed madly for the cover of the street.

Lia waited til the Hydrans were in view and let rip with her phaser rifle. She grinned as one fell clutching at it's chest with it's three arms. Her confidence had been growing as the war had gone on and she was nothing like the young Deltan that had deployed to ch'Rihan. As amazing as it sounded, she felt that she had matured, that she had grown as a Marine and with a skilled hand, she took aim at another Hydran.

Georgie had seen them from her higher vantage point before Lia had, yet waited for her to make the first move. Now that Lia was adding to the crossfire that Sarivok and the others were giving, she joined in.

Narrowly avoiding a shot by one of the rear Hydrans by ducking behind the side of the building, Georgie returned it with interest.

As the Marine Corps' weapons replied with shrill bursts, two more joined the chaos. From further down the street, nestled within the shadows of an alcove, pairs of phaser blasts stabbed through the shattered Hydran formation.

Smiling as the last Hydran keeled over, Raferty stepped from the alcove and made his way to the Marines that had just decimated the Hydran patrol. "Sir," he nodded towards the Lieutenant. "it's good to see some friendly faces. We've been waiting for backup for ages."

The Lieutenant nodded sternly, frowning. "What happened to the rest of your fire team?" And then a beat, "No, never mind. Form up with Mister DeMatta. Chief, they're yours." And the lanky, sun-worn officer looked at the two expectantly.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Raferty Fisher and this is Corporal James Taggert." he indicated his comrade.

"G'day all." James called out when he reached the group.

Amaweh nodded and gestured to his ramshackle team. "We're the 212th, B Company, 3rd Platoon. My platoon dropped in zone 12. We were strung out and the Hydran resistance was heavier than we expected. This is Corporal Jeppo and Private Sarivok. We picked up Chief DeMatta and Private Men'a'NoS an hour ago, and have been trying to make it back to company HQ since." He pointed out DeMatta and her companion, introducing briefly as he did so; after which he let the Sergeant speak.

"We found what looks like a Hydran command post, but weren't able to contact anyone. Seems the COMM's don't work here for some reason."

Raferty said after the introductions. "We could use your help in taking it down. If you're up for that, sir?"

Amaweh squinted at the two. They were suggesting a piecemeal team of survivors - not even elements of the same division! - break from protocol and attack an entire HQ post by themselves? He didn't like it, and the expression was clear on his face. However, he wasn't about to let the Sergeant's experience go to waste. Perhaps there was more to it here. "Give me the reccie rep," meaning recon report.

"The Hydrans have taken over a partially destroyed school over the hill behind me. From what we were able to observe, they are using the gym as their command post. Seems to be at least a platoon or so of Hydrans in there, though we haven't been able to get an accurate count." Raferty closed his eyes, thinking of the scene that he had viewed only a few minutes ago. "Patrols come and go at regular intervals and I would say that these guys were headed there when you attacked them. They chose a good spot as the only way we could see to get at them is over the open ground of the sports fields, and two of the three-armed freaks are guarding the side door that opens out to the fields."

He was still frowning, but that was typical for Lieutenant Amaweh - he always frowned, heavily. No one knew why and no one asked. Perhaps that was why Jeppo looked so suprised when Amaweh replied, "Let's do it.

Fisher, take point. DeMatta, you have tail. Get us a look at this place."

Raferty nodded. He was eager to get at them, and the intel they were likely to have, being a command post and all. It might not be enough to turn the tide against these frackers, but it would be a start. And the sooner the Hydrans were defeated and the Federation left ch'Rihan, the better it would be for everybody. Taking point, he made his way to the spot where they had been observing the Hydrans from. It wasn't much, just the remains of a grandstand on the far side of the playing fields.

But it had protection from prying eyes and gave a decent view of the school. He gave the signal for the team to crouch. A slight dip in the height in the rubble left little cover.

The broken grandstand was only a few meters away, and Raferty crawled past the low cover and slipped round to hide behind their makeshift observation post. "That's their base of operations," he said, pointing at the Gym, when the el-tee reached him.

Amaweh lay belly-down in the dust beneath the twisted remains of the grandstand, completely in his element. The man was a shadow - he was trained as a recon specialist before he had taken command, and before that his Blackfoot tradition had earned him the nickname "Ghost" by his former squad. Sarivok never called him that, though, and Jeppo was too new to have picked it up. He exhaled and scanned the area through the three-inch slot between two broken benches.

"Fire team behind these benches," He murmured, his mind surveying the scene aerially as he imagined his forces moving and acting in concert, "suppressing this arc. The two other teams in that ditch," he gestured to a low ditch that ran alongside the field, "assault into the central compound. Grenades through the doors and window, move in, mop up. Got that DeMatta, Fisher?" he murmured as he back-pedaled out of the recessed area and into full cover.

Georgie nodded, despite the nausea that filled her. Something was going to go wrong, she could tell. Still, if the ragtag unit could destroy a command post, the others might have a better chance of survival. And that was what mattered the most.

"Yes Sir," Raferty replied. He was aware of the implications of what they were doing better than anyone. But the rewards would very much outweigh the deaths of everyone here. Smiling, despite the situation, he checked his weapon, ensuring it had enough to get him through the coming ordeal.

"Sarivok, you suppress from here. Taggert, you're his bodyguard.

Dematta, your team and mine, into the ditch. One tap for prepared, two taps for abort. Go." Amaweh was already moving, crouching low, then dropping to his belly again to crawl through the grassy ditch that ran along the side of the school. Jeppo was a moment behind - new to his commander, but not to his profession.

off: before the retreat from Romulus

"'a SoHvaD vIja'nIS, jInaSchu' vaj."

translation: "I'm here to tell you, honey, that I'm bad to the bone" :)

by J. Andrus Suder

****

Hall of State

Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

****

"You're NOT serious!" He exclaimed, looking at the woman next to him as if she'd grown a second head. Or like she had just said that she wouldn't be boarding the ship with them.

Commander Smith shot him an annoyed look. Of course she was serious, Andy thought with a groan. She wasn't the type to be anything but serious.

"Romulus has been taken, 'Rel." Andrus tried to reason with her. "And you can't take them on all by yourself!"

She chose to ignore the "Rel" and continued to watch for a clear opening to the hangar. "Why not?"

He didn't believe this woman ...

"You'd drive a man to drink," Andrus growled. "You know that, right?"

'Rel scowled. "So I've been told. Look, I won't be much good sitting on a ship full of Romulans. They're supposed to make it out alive, for one thing, and I get bored easily."

"Oh, come on -"

"I'm a fighter, Senator." She interrupted. "And the fight's here. I don't like the Romulans much but I can help them."

What went unsaid was that she couldn't help her son, husband, brother, or sister, all of whom she hoped were still in one piece. 'Rel had a reasonable fear of losing the people that she loved because of someone blowing them to bits.

He ran a hand through his hair and then cracked his knuckles loudly.

"You know this makes me look incredibly bad, right?"

'Rel looked amused."You ever train with Klingon masters or Starfleet?"

"More like crooks, thieves, and liars."

"Then you'll do better with the politicians," She told him, nodding her head as she saw their chance. "Time to go, Senator."

They made their way over, stopping only once while they dealt with a lone Hydran, Arel taking out one of its legs while Andrus went for its eyes.

"At the risk of having my throat ripped out?" Andrus began as she wiped her blade clean.

'Rel arched her eyebrow but nodded slightly.

"If you live through this, you should tell him how you feel." Andy said. "And let the kid get a puppy."

She glared at him. "We'll live through this. And cat would piss itself if we got a dog. Or all over my furniture. And stay out of my head, damn it."

Andrus pressed his luck by grabbing her arm. "Come with us. You'll live longer."

Arel Smith grinned. "These pthaks aren't worth my blood or my life."

Klingons, Andy thought rolling his eyes.

"Let's go." She said.

"Dirty Work"

Lieutenant Saul Bental

Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

With the Galaxy finally out of harm's way, it was time to kill Andrus.

Saul's resolve to get rid of the Betazoid grew stronger after his meeting with Captain M'Kantu. If previously it was fuelled by dread that Andrus will shatter Saul's career and private agenda, now it was supplemented by concern for the Captain and the ship.

Daren M'Kantu, in Saul's eyes, was Starfleet's finest. And Starfleet's finest were respectable knights, not treacherous rogues, and handled situations accordingly. Saul didn't know the man behind the name well, but he was quite confident that M'Kantu had little experience in playing it dirty. Otherwise, he wouldn't let Andrus remain in a position where he had control.

The vulnerable side the Captain presented when Saul hinted that he knew the Captain was blackmailed was new to the Intelligence chief. M'Kantu must've had a lot at stake if he didn't just wave Saul away. M'Kantu would probably never support getting rid of the threat with Saul's chosen methods, but then again it would be quite comfortable for both the Captain and the intelligence chief if Andrus' name was in the causalities list of the recent battle.

Saul intended to ascertain that.

Already, several traps were in place, matching several possible scenarios.

Saul prepared most of those traps during the nights prior to the Hydran fleet's arrival, after he was done with Slihot. In fact, Savant met him right after he finished another round of preparation. Savant was also the main obstacle, since her presence increased the danger in using the ship's computer systems as part of his plan. Any attempt to alter a subroutine so that a force field would vanish at the wrong (or right) time, or that an airlock would accidentally open, could lead right back to Saul with Savant roaming the ship's computer core.

No; He had to be more subtle, and rely less on such means. If he was exposed, the result would be as bad as it would if Andrus had his way, if not worse.

One way or the other, everything was in place, and he had a short window of opportunity if he wanted to mask Andrus' death as the result of the combat. Thus, Saul darted out of the bridge at the earliest moment possible. As soon as he was in the turbolift, he took the first step toward achieving his goal.

"Computer, give me the location of all personnel who arrived on board since the Galaxy reached ch'Rihan. If the person is KIA, mention that as well."

The computer began stating names and locations. Saul listened carefully. He didn't want to ask directly about Andrus, because he didn't want to leave any link between that man and himself. The Galaxy's security team were talented (except perhaps for that new secretary he kept hearing about at ten forward) and would probably scan the ship's database for abnormal activity related to Andrus if they suspect that he was murdered.

The list wasn't long, and Andrus' name wasn't them. Did he use a false identity? Perhaps.

Saul exited the lift, and quickly located a public terminal at a corridors intersection. He ordered the computer to repeat the search – this time, with visual images of the search results.

No. No Andrus.

"Computer, state names of ship personnel who arrived on board after the Galaxy reached ch'Rihan, AND are currently not on board the Galaxy."

That request, unfortunately, gave better results. The first name on the list was Andrus', and the computer even expanded and told Saul that Andrus beamed down to ch'Rihan.

"Eize maniac." Saul muttered, shaking his head. Days of careful planning went down the waste recycler. Now, all he could do was hope that the Hydrans did his dirty work for him.

"In the aftermath "

Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Intelligence Officer
Ensign Eve, Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations

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

USS Galaxy

Intelligence Center

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

Entering the Galaxy's Intelligence Center Eve paused and looked around. The place was a wreck: at least half of the various monitors or consoles blown out or otherwise non-functional, debris was scattered around, and one of the main structural support members that formed the portside wall had buckled inwards. Though medical triage teams had already visited, Eve could still see the tell-tales of injuries and death that had been wrought amongst the Intelligence

center: red, blue, green, and other colors of various species blood, and other bodily fluids, were splattered about.

And still, everyone alive and capable of performing their duties was here, assisting the engineering crews sent to work on the nearly collapsed section of the Galaxy's internal structures; the rest of the intelligence center would come later, when more vital systems were back online. As Eve stepped through the wreckage and working crew, her thoughts turned to the Galaxy's fighter unit: when she had exited the fighter bay, far too many berths stood open, silent heralds to the lives lost in this latest conflict. The officer of the deck, a Vulcan, had inquired as to the intelligence packages installed aboard the Vanguard fighters, she told him to leave them in, operational or otherwise, and then made her exit. She had already looked into the eyes of so many of the flight deck personnel, the haunted looks in their eyes: though they boasted that they "owned" the fighters, in truth it was as much of an intimate relationship between a pilot and the personnel maintaining her fighter as it was between a married couple.

Bringing her thoughts back to the here and now, Eve continued to pick her way through the Center, headed in Lieutenant Bental's direction.

Now that her duties aboard Vanguard One were complete for the time being, she needed new directives to pursue.

The Lieutenant looked less shaken than what one would expect. He was sitting in the main hall instead of his office, so she spotted him quickly. His rested his legs on a broken console, and peered into several screens on the opposite walls. Most of them showed images of the Star beast, and some featured datasheets with letters too small to decipher from a distance.

The message his casual demeanor delivered was simple: 'Business as usual'. And it seemed to affect the intelligence officers around him, who handled the regular intelligence chores as if they didn't just survive the fall of the Romulan home world.

"Hey, Eve!" Saul waved at her. "Grab a seat. Good to see you in good shape."

Of course, one of the first things Saul did once the Galaxy hit warp speed was to check if his Technical Operations officer made it back.

He was very concerned about her, especially since he was the one who instructed her to team up with the Vanguards in the first place.

Saul never sent a fellow officer to his death and he hoped he never will.

"I just came down from the flight deck," she commented, looking up at the screens displaying all of the information collected on the Star beast - most, if not all of it, she had seen as it had streamed through Vanguard One for those scant few moments between it's arrival and the fleet's departure. Such a waste of resources, lives lost ...

if she didn't know any better, she'd suppose that some form of highly advanced technology was responsible for such subjugation. Technology like the Borg…

As she stared off into space and loosing herself in though, her gaze locked in the direction of the star beast, Eve was unaware of her hands, resting on the back of a chair, squeezing as her mind attempted to create fists: the result being her synthetic fingers literally pushed through the metals of the chair backing.

"I'm glad it wasn't my shoulders."

His voice brought Eve out of her mind and her grip relaxed almost immediately, but not before she realized the effect she'd had on the chair. "It was broken anyhow," she said to no one.

"I never thought I would say it, Eve, but you look shaken. Please tell me... how it was."

Eve looked up from the chair into Saul's eyes, and the pain was clear for him to see. "Death, beauty, sacrifice, vengeance, helplessness, and so much of so many sensations wrapped into one singular experience." She spoke as if to no one and everyone all at the same time. "This wasn't supposed to be this way. I should be fighting the Borg if I fight anyone. Just myself and the impassionate drones of an unfeeling and uncaring Collective, freeing them from their bondage.

At least then the deaths would have more meaning than a singular slaughter." For that is what had just happened: fatooto many good, decent sentient beings had been slaughtered for no other reason than the Hydrans had to pick a fight. She leaned against a consol, sliding down to sit on the ground, tears running down her cheeks.

Saul looked around, distressed. While work appeared to continue regularly on the CIC, he knew that the other people in the hall were trying their best not to glance curiously at the phenomenon.

He sled to a sitting position on the floor next to Eve, and cautiously wrapped his hand around her shoulder. He wasn't concerned by being blamed for sexual harassment for doing this as much as he feared that the distressed Ensign will crunch his ribs without noticing.

"Hey..." He said softly, reaching with his free hand to wipe a tear from Eve's cheek. Her skin felt... cold. "It's OK. War is terrible. I don't think any death has a meaning, including a Borg's. But the Hydrans think they can get their way with violence, and subjugate other people. That is not acceptable. For THAT, the RISK we took has meaning."

He paused, trying to assess if his soothing tone had any impact on the woman which, up until now, acted as emotionless as a Vulcan. "I wish we would lose less life as a result of the risk. But that's how life works. You don't always win." Eve nodded, understanding what he was trying to tell her. "I went through the Kobyashi Maru at the academy," she commented. "Of course everyone 'dies' but nothing they taught me, not even in the Intel Academy, in any way prepared me for what happened out there. I saw on my monitors every Vanguard that went down and I knew that each one wasn't coming back." And at that moment, hatred was born anew. "There's a saying from earth: 'Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned.'" She stood slowly, composed herself, and looked into Bental's eyes. Cold hard hatred burned within them. "Hell and the Borg have nothing compared to the Hydrans, now."

"Simulations can't prepare you to death." Saul agreed, not missing the dangerous glint in her eyes. When did he see a dead body for the first time? When he was eleven? Perhaps twelve?

There was also his father's corpse, but it was covered with the Jewish burial sheets, 'Tachrichim', and he was too young for the sight to have any impact.

And then something different happened. She straightened up, her posture as perfect as the day she came aboard. The fire was out in her eyes and her face was expressionless; as she spoke, audibly evident were the mechanical properties within her voice, as if her voice had been filtered through a poor speaker: "Awaiting new directives."

Saul rolled his eyes upwards. One of these days, he's going to pit Eve against Branwen or Miramon on a counseling session. The latter two probably won't forgive him for all eternities.

"I do have something for you, actually." Saul told her as lifted himself from the floor. "I just need to provide you clearance to the bulk of the material; it's sensitive, but I hope the emergency will shorten the procedure."

"Please state new directives," she inquired, the voice produced maintaining its mechanical tones.

"For the time being, I want you to research the usage of cybernetic devices to relay telepathic or neural directives. Once I get the authorization, I'm going to give you a list of cybernetic parts and part suppliers, and provide you with more specific orders."

"Directives processed and accepted," Eve responded, and then closed her eyes. She then promptly collapsed, as would a martinet whose strings had just been cut.

"Verdomd!" Saul cursed, reaching to stop her fall. However, he was unprepared for her unexpected tumble, and found himself on the floor for the second time.

He raised his head. Officers were already surrounding them, their expressions uncertain. Saul tapped his COM badge. "Bental to

sickbay: two for emergency beam up."

=/\="Sickbay to Bental, Emergency transporters temporarily unavailable. How bad is the emergency? Do you need someone over?"=/\=

"No, we'll get the patient to you. Bental out." Saul bit his upper lip. He could feel Eve's faint breath - she was alive, and had no visible injuries. But with 'cyborgirl', that didn't mean anything.

She wasn't exactly your typical Human.

"Dupont, instead of staring, get the A-Grav stretcher from the weapons' cabinet. And Shtazai, if you don't want to stay on this boat for another term as technical officer, you better contact Engineering and have them send their best cybernetic specialist to meet us at sickbay."

With his men on the move to handle the emergency, Saul returned his stare to Eve. The pale woman in his arms looked much younger than her real age, and much more fragile and vulnerable than he aspired to be.

He brushed a stray strand off her forehead, and a sad sensation suddenly flooded him.

The poor girl may act like a robot, but Saul could tell that after what she just experienced, what she needed was not a general systems inspection, but a hug.

[Backposted to just before "Parental Advice"]

"Harbinger"

By

Vice-Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

Commander Arel Smith,
Chief Security Officer,
USS Miranda

Major Sharien T'Riasau,
RNI Liaison,
USS Galaxy

***

Hall of State

Promenade Level

Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

Three Minutes before First Shots are Fired

***

Twilight had settled on the Capital of ch'Rihan, yet for all the clear night skies with their bright constellations peering silently down on the masses, the activity below had not followed suit.

Kylar Curran had been accompanied out of the Senate Chamber two levels above and asked to await the decision of Senate on his plan for evacuation. That had been over two hours previous.

In the meantime, all non-essential personnel had been removed from the government building and escorted to the spaceports lining each compass point on the outer ring.

Smoke could be seen curling over dozens of buildings outside the perimeter of the city, the populace in a suspended psychological reaction completely opposing their nature of subterfuge and secrecy.

Curran could breathe nothing without catching the odor of ozone and burning materials. His opinion of the Rihannsu people was very much at odds with the perception and image he had developed while stationed here at the Kelvan Embassy so many years ago.

For now, he made as much effort as he could muster to contain his anxiousness, knowing there were Starfleet personnel about. The lust of battle was trickling through his human veins, and he knew his time was approaching. It was one he would not avoid taking advantage of.

"They're wasting time." A voice growled from behind him.

The Kelvan did not need to turn around to recognize the husky voice of the human female assigned to lead the Security detail of the Senate.

An electrical storm dazzled the horizon over the Fhaern forest to the east.

"I'm surprised that politicians of all people would take so much time deciding to get out of the path of fire." Arel said.

"You shouldn't be, 'Commander Smith. Most of the representatives in the Senate have served in the military at some point in their lives. Such service in the Rihannsu Empire is mandatory." A deathly pall, save for the hushed tones of nearby Starfleet officers and personnel echoing sentiments of the same wishful thoughts of a quick decision by the Senate to leave the capital, fell upon the city. "Those that have stayed behind have not forgotten their pride and patriotism."

"khre'Arrain T'Riasau wants to see you." Arel said, choosing not to comment on what she thought of the Romulan military, their pride, or their patriotism.

Curran nodded, gathering up what little materials he had off the perch that jutted out from one of the monolithic pillars that reached skyward on one of the outer balconies. T'Riasau was the former RNI Liaison assigned to the USS Galaxy to oversee the cloaking device that had been installed shortly after the battle of Havras the previous year. With the Council issuing the order to eject all Rihannsu civilians from Starfleet ships, she had voluntarily left regardless of the recall by the Senate. With little notice, she'd also left the

cloaking device behind, and no one had argued the decision. How convenient.

They walked to the Starfleet temporary command center set up in a nearby location amenable to the closest path to the Senate Chambers.

Arel did her best not to scowl at too many people as they went.

Curran had nothing to say to the woman; he'd had enough to think about. With the Senate currently in prolonged session deciding whether to leave or remain behind, his own fate was just in turmoil.

He'd been ordered by the Kelvan Embassy to remain on the planet to fulfill his obligation to his people, yet also been given leave to complete his duties and tidy up affairs. This was before the Hydran threat was fully realized. His life was forfeit no matter how he looked at it, but whether he moved on to the next level of consciousness with honor was a very strict matter and not open to interpretation.

Commander Smith walked only a pair of paces before him, passing through a steadily increasing number of humans and Romulans both. No one spoke to them as they passed. The tension was thick, the battle-thirst evident. Reports passed between peoples, both on PADD and in person. Though none of it compared to the command center upon arriving.

Situated in the heart of the Hall, it had no windows, only two six foot thick blast doors opposing each other.

When Curran stood at the foot of the enormous doors - four meters high, five meters wide - a thin sliver split down the middle as they swung outward just wide enough to allow them entrance into a slightly declining and spiraled tritanium walled tunnel that went on for several more meters.

When they came to the end of the dimly lit ramp, another groan broke the silence, and a dazzle of light broke the gloom, growing wider as it grew from the floor upwards.

As the two new arrivals stepped into the light, a sudden rumble shook the building, followed by a clamor of voices. Hands reached out and grasped the Kelvan and human, pulling them in as the door closed behind them.

Arel stopped herself from backhanding the Romulan out of habit. "Thanks."

"Hurry! The Hydrans are dropping photon bombs on the city." The hushed and terse whisper of the Rihannsu officer befell his natural clinical manner of a soldier who was in 'the zone', as humans would define it. Dust fell from the ceiling as he grasped each by the arm and lead them into a core area.

Dozens of personnel, Romulan and Starfleet both, ignored the newcomers as they donned their assigned tasks and worked in sync with each other. If not for the urgency of an orbital bombardment launched with the suddenness and viciousness of a rattlesnake on its prey, it would be a sight to remember and reflect on later.

The building shook again, fiercer this time as the bombs hit even closer. Arel centered herself to keep her balance and tried not to think of how the Miranda felt when a torpedo hit it. For the hundreth time, she wish that she'd taken Korvin with her. "Have they made a decision yet?"

"No, they have not." Sharien T'Riasau stepped out from behind a pair of Rihannsu tacticians surrounding a holographic display on a central tableau.

An image of the planet shimmered on the display, occasionally breaking up into static before resolving into the image of a planet surrounded by hundreds of blips, some significantly larger than others. The image broke up again, and an entire side of the planet faded off, giving the image of a broken planet, rent in half. It wasn't too far off from the possible when one thought about it. One of the tacticians cursed in Romulan, balling a fist and slamming it on the console, arguing with the others.

"The last tracking satellite just went down on the other side of the planet." Sharien explained as she lead Curran and Smith away from the scene. Monitors along the wall closest to the three showed images of the city and scenes from orbit. Desolation and destruction was everywhere.

Flames burned on ship hulls as capital ship cameras caught them falling into the planet's atmosphere. A scene from outside showed the sky raining fire.

"What is your function?" She pushed the two down out of the way and into another corridor."

The security officer shrugged. "My job is to get everyone to safety.

Can't rebuild your world if you've been blown to bits."

"How convincing you are, 'Commander."

"Save the comments, khre'Arrain." Curran stopped, pushing her arm off his own. How he tired of people touching him. The room continued to rain dust, turning their features an ominous pale white as the building continued to shake around them.

"Where are the Senators and Praetor? They can save their politicking until they're off-world." The building tilted on its axis; the creaking and snapping of stone echoed through the center foretold its imminent death.

"This way." As they wound their way through parts of the Senate lower levels, the sounds of battle grew louder even as the defenders in the rooms they left behind grew weaker.

"Regardless of their wishes, we have transports standing by. It's just a matter of getting them in them at this point. Many, surprisingly, don't want to leave. It's forcing me to re-evaluate my opinion of some of them."

"Is Admiral Donatra one of them?" Kylar wiped particles from his eyes as another salvo hit nearby, throwing all of them into the far wall. Pain shot through his arm. He'd deal with it later.

"Did you ever have any doubt?" They came around a final bend, which opened into a grand lobby - or what used to be one. It was now riddled with debris and chunks of stone. The painted image of the now-defunct Neutral Zone was chipped and broken. Yet another sign of how things were changing.

"Can she not beam them all to her Warbird that is also undoubtedly in orbit?

It would be-" He paused when T'Riasau shook her head, winding her way through the labyrinth.

"The passive planetary defense network was enacted the moment the Hydrans entered the system. With the satellite grid failing, and communications with the remote stations jammed, we've no way to tell if we'd beam into a re-direct point or worse - intercepted by a Hydran relay." Kylar experienced first-hand the effect of defense network in full mode. It had shut down a shuttle's engines as he crossed the threshold during a visit two months previous, terminating its engines and crashing on the surface. He also knew a transport in or out of the shields protecting the most vulnerable parts of the planet sent the beam off to a re-direct point at a random location on ch'Rihan.

It took the search and rescue teams the better part of two days to locate them. And that was without a Hydran invasion force bent on assimilating the planet.

"If we can get to the transport craft before the Hydrans break atmosphere with their dropships, we should be able to escape unscathed." She tossed aside a large stone, with the human officer's assistance. Kylar winced as he had tried; an evil glare shut them up when they looked to the shoulder he favored. So he had done what he could with his other shoulder, which wasn't much as it toppled over from the Romulan's effort. The clamor of distant voices could be heard now that the natural sound dampener had been removed from the pathway to the inner chambers.

"That's a lot of optimism, khre'Arrain. I hope you're right. The loss of a third Praetor in as many years would shatter your people's morale, I believe, at this time."

"I wouldn't worry about Hitan, Vice-Legate. I'd worry more about Omar if I were you." Another bomb hit nearby, shaking loose one of the massive pillars holding a wing of the great bird that spanned the final entryway.

"Watch out!" The Romulan Major yelled out, jumping behind Curran and the Security Chief, shoving them forward as she fell back, the talons falling to a crash on the floor, and breaking through the tiles. Debris and more particles fell from the ceiling as secondary quakes rocked the building.

Curran shook his head as he pushed himself up on his hands, coughing. He wiped his eyes and looked around, seeing Commander Smith also sitting up and dusting herself off. He didn't see T'Riasau anywhere.

"khre'Arrain!" He scrambled to his feet, jumping over the blocks of stone that were new to the décor. The giant taloned sigil had embedded itself in the floor, blocking the way back. He was about to call her name again when Arel Smith stopped searching for a way through and called to him, pointing at the floor below one of the other claws.

Fresh green blood was pooling under the freshly soaked and splattered representation of Romulus in the broken claw of the sigil. Could it be a harbinger?

"Going Under"

Elaithin Jii

K. Jordan Elaithin

Kerec

Lt. Colonel For'kel Arvelion

Lieutenant Victor Kreighoff

Ensign Savannah McAllister

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

Ki Baratan,

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

Two Days after the Withdrawal

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

At last report, all of his Marines had gone down to the squad level and scattered, engaging any targets of opportunity that happened to present themselves along the way. 135 dead... that's how many the 101st alone had suffered through the heaviest aspects of the fighting. He didn't even want to phathom the losses the other units had suffered in turn. There were reports of some units being wiped out to the man... definitely not a good time to be planetside.

For'kel took a breath, difficult as it was, trying to concentrate on the issue at hand. It wasn't that there was a particular 'lack' of targets... but rather with limited resources he couldn't sustain a prolonged engagement with the enemy, cutting some of the options off. Then there were the competing needs, yeah he wanted to disable the local C3 facility, but that was competing with capturing much needed supplies and provisions. The short answer was to hit all of them... but his troops had been engaged in intense fighting for two days straight. He had to get control of the tempo if 'anyone' was going to survive until the fleet returned.

Brushing a dust and soot laden hand over fever-red skin, he thought through his options. The Hydrans were getting closer and closer to their section of underground tunnel... if things kept going at this rate, it was unlikely that they'd go unnoticed much longer.

Elaithin Jii fingered his new disruptor rifle with a calm readiness as he took in the situation. Kerec' Unificationists had proved better equipped to form the core of a resistance than he'd honestly expected.

With their underground network and cell structure, and members from all walks of Romulan life, "his" people had been able to secure weapons, food stores and the like.

For two days now, they'd been evacuating all the civilians they could find - those not already in heavily controlled Hydran areas.

Now, they were looking at one of the fiercest spot of fighting. A Starfleet Marine colonel and a good number of his men - along with a substantial number of Romulan civilians and military personell - were actively fighting the Hydrans in one sector of the city.

They were doing well, holding their own..

But it wouldn't last. Their line would break, and they'd be overrun.

Which was why Jii, Jordan, Kreighoff and Kerec had come to give the man an alternative.

The 'Colonel was just ahead. Elaithin's team - this one at least - had been able to approach from behind. A sentry at the rear had stopped them, but seeing a Bajoran and a Human, had let them in.

Arvelion was gathered with a diverse group of officers - it looked like they were trying to figre out thier next move. Jii had to put down a momentary feeling of shock when he'd seen that it was For'kel leading these Marines.

Well, he'd known he'd run into people from the Miranda eventually.

Standing behind Arvelion, the Miranda's former Captain cleared his throat. "Looks like you could use somewhere to go, 'Colonel."

Knitting her eyebrows, Savannah shot a look at Fork, then back at Jii, then back at Fork, finally resting on Jii. 'Yeah, to an all inclusive spa.' She thought to herself.

Prophets help him, if that was who he thought it was... well he couldn't claim to be surprised. Somehow wherever there was trouble in the galaxy, Elaithin Jii had a record of being there. So often in fact, that the Stagnorian was begining to think there was a causal effect.

But he was too damned tired and too damned busy to worry about the man in civilian clothes who, from what he knew, held no military rank. "Intelligence snafu, sir?"

Well, that was a particularly loaded question. "Depends on who you ask." Jii shrugged. "And no "sirs" here, Colonel. Like I keep trying to the Lieutenant back there, I don't wear the uniform anymore."

"It's still typical custom to refer to a civilian as 'sir'." For'kel responded with a bit of a smirk. His eyes left Jii and found Jordan Elaithin... what the hell? Wasn't she supposed to be de... hell that didn't matter now. "You had a plan?"

Behind Jii and his wife, Victor looked around the room, and then lifted his tricorder and did a passive scan, checking to see if any of his remaining four lost sheep were in the area, and had been shielded from him previously.

"Who's he?" For'kel nodded towards the stranger taking a scan of their ad hoc base.

"That's Lieutenant Kreighoff, off the Galaxy." Jii explained. "We hooked up with him yesterday over in the Government Sector. This is Kerec, a local contact of mine who's hooked us up with a group that has formed the backbound of the resistance we're putting together.

And..." Jii paused. For'kel would be the first person from the Miranda to see Jordan, since her return. "I beleive you've met my wife?"

"I've had the pleasure." Once, maybe... possibly... For'kel didn't really keep track of whom he'd spoken to or why. It was still something amazing to see, even if the present situation sapped some of the shock value that might ordinarily have surfaced. "Good to see you again, ma'am." Now, it was back to business. "Anything you can offer would be valued."

At that, Jii smiled somewhat broadly. A bit uncongrous, given the situation, but the man couldn't help it. "You're not claustrophibic, are you, 'Colonel?"

For'kel raised an eyebrow. "If it gets my people out of fire.."

"More than that, Fork." Jii replied.

The eyebrow stayed up.

"It gives us somewhere to fight back from." the Bajoran continued.

"Round your people up and let's get 'em movin. We've got some plotting to do."

"Homeless"

Captain Tara Reynolds

A former fighter pilot and tactical officer, Tara Reynolds was no stranger to loss. She'd seen action in the Dominion War as a part of the famed Rogue Squadron - aboard the predecessor to this very ship, the Miranda. The Rogues - and the Miranda - had been at the frontline of very nearly the entire war. They'd become very used to death.

And then, as Tactical officer on the Achilles, afterwards, she'd served with Elaithin Jii at the battle against the Breen that had earned him his pips to command *this* Miranda. Then, aboard the Colorado and the Arizona, it wasn't like her service had been dull.

Rogue Cardassians, Borg, Yanek and pirates..

Following the loss of the previous Az, the determined redhead had accepted her own command: the Starcarrier USS Concorde.

She was at Typhon. She was at Deep Space Nine. She was at Chin'toka, Cardassia, Galvanis, Xanthe, Havras, and a dozen other major battles.

She'd been through the fire, and come out tempered and stronger.

Thirty-six squads of starfghters. A marine Battalion of five hundred.

A Starfleet crew of almost two thousand.

And right this moment, she was one of only ninety-two accounted for survivors. Ninety-two, out of two thousand, six-hundred and forty seven.

It was entirely possible large portions of her crew were prisoners of the Hydrans, or had gone to ground on Romulus or Remus themselves.

Right now, she couldn't bring herself to hope.

Outside the Miranda's viewport from here in the Cantina - the ship's lounge - the hazardous Phoenicius system went about it's business. It was the site of the Empire's most top-secret installations, a fortress of last result. The system itself resided in a nebula that interfered with typical scanning. An unknown calamity centuries ago had shattered all but a single planet in the system, giving it a much higher than normal asteroid count - the belt covered almost half of the system.

There were any other number of natural fortifications, and that was not even counting what the Romulans had done to the place. A massive number of automated sensor stations maintained a scanner and tachyon web that rivaled that of the Sol System. Every last particle in the system was catalogued and tracked.

*Nothing* came here without the Romulans knowing it.

The Romulans called it "the Aerie". It was a redoubt, a hidey-hole of last resort, to shelter the Empress and the Senate in the event of the fall of the homeworld.

They'd never used it for that purpose before. They'd never had to.

Tara Reynolds could empathize - she'd just had her own world ripped out from under her feet, too.

She stared blankly down at the untouched whiskey on the table in front of her. She'd ordered the drink, but it held no appeal to her. There were too many ghosts.

Sitting, staring, she finally started catching snippets of conversation from tables around her. The mood on the heavily damaged Miranda was a grim one, but there was more to it than the battle the combined Federation and Romulan forces had just soundly lost.

Apparently, Captain Summers had died in the battle as well. Robert DeSoto had also gone down with his ship of thirty years, the Hood.

Vogler had died, too, on the Exeter. Three legends down - three more brave souls in the halls of Valhalla, she thought, thinking of the Norse myths she'd been infatuated with in her youth.

Tara closed her eyes, and raised her glass to her fellow Captain - and all the others who'd fallen this horrific day. "Here's to you, Captains. And all the rest."

She knocked the whiskey back, paying no heed to the fire as it traveled down her belly.

She was too numb to feel it.

"Bloody Politics"

President Nan Bacco, President, UFP

Flt. Admiral Victor Murdock, C-in-C, Starfleet

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

The United Federation of Planets
Council Chambers
the Palais de la Concorde,
First Floor Paris, Earth

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

"Order!" President Nan Bacco fiercely called out over the cacophony in the room. The Tellarite councillor had just out an out called the councillor from Mizar a coward for his stance on the Romulan Question, and the chamber at large had devolved into cacophony. "Order!" the silver-haired human woman from Cestus III called once more. "I don't beleive this. You people are the governing body of the United Federation of Planets, not children arguing in the schoolyard!"

Sitting next to her, Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock whispered an aside that only she could here. "Don't see much difference, m'self." he muttered, forcing a small smile to the President's lips.

"Hush, Victor." Bacco whispered back, and looked back out on the Council at large. "As it is clear that the Council at large will not be able to come to a consensus on the Romulan Question, I am tabling this discussion at this time. The issue will be remanded to the Security Council - "

A wide uproar spread again at this announcement, and Bacco banged the gavel once more. She then continue, and, aside from her glare, one wouldn't have known she'd even been interrupted. " where we can come to a prompt decision, as this issue is time sensitive. This session is now closed. Security Council, we will meet in the Ra-Ghoratrei room thirty minutes from now." Then she banged the gavel once more, bringing the session to a close.

She gathered her materials from the desk in front of her, and noted Murdock was standing by. "Are you offering me an escort, Admiral?"

"Pretty lass like yuirself? 'Course I am." he chuckled.

"Hmmn. Flattery will get you everywhere, Victor."

"So I've always found." he replied, offering her his arm. It was a gentlemanly gesture, and Nan accepted it for what it was. She was a widow and he a widower, and neither would ever carry their friendship beyond that. Their relative positions would prevent it, of course, and aside from that, both were simply interested in a friend who understood what the weight of the universe was right.

Plus, she thought, Murdock always had the best scotch.

When they'd entered the 'lift that would take them to the top floor of the Palais, Murdock finally spoke again. "This Hawk-Dove nonsense is gettin' out of hand, Madame President." he said, signifying with his use of her title just what the tone of his remarks would be.

"I don't disagree, Admiral." she replied formally. "In the history of the Federation, we've never had official parties like this, not until now. We'd avoided voting blocs like this, and now both sides are more interested in undoing the other than accomplishing any actual work."

"Well, that was never a priority of politicians in the first place." he teased.

"Hush, you."

"It's becomin' a problem now, though. I've got good people standing by to help defend the Romulans - based on a treaty Starfleet negotiated in good faith. I've gone up against the Romulans, Madame President. No one understands better'n me why some people don't want to risk Federation lives to defend 'em. But it's what we said we'd do. We need to live up to that."

"I agree." she nodded. "But the Council.."

"The Council is full of a bunch o' bloody morons, playing games when peoples lives are at stake."

"They don't want a war, Victor."

"War's comin, Nan, whether we like or not. Might just be here already." the Scotsman passionately replied, prompting the President to hold up a hand.

"I'm well aware of that, Admiral. In fact, I - "

Whatever she was going to say was cutoff by the swishing open of the lift's doors - where both the President and the Commander in Chief of Starfleet found their aides eagerly awaiting with PADDs, grim looks decorating their faces.

As Bacco took her own PADD, Murdock accepted his from Captain Albrecht. He started scanning immediately, noting that it was a preliminary report sent by Captain M'Kantu. His heart sank as he read the news from Romulus, and turned to report.

"Madame President," he began grimly. "It's my duty to inform ye that Romulus has officially fallen. Our forces have retreated, with the remainin' Warbirds and the warbird carryin' the Empress and the leaders of the Senate, ta the Phoenicius System."

Bacco had read the information on her own PADD, but the report from Murdock was a formality. What he said next, was not.

"We have tae send reinforcements, Madame President. If we don't, the rest of the Empire will fall, and we'll have hostile Hydrans right on our borders, less than thirty-five light years from Earth." the C-in-C advised grimly.

"I agree." she replied. "Now let's go convince the Security Council."

"Who is to live?"

Captain Roberto Montoya ,commander of the late USS Agamemnon
Lt SG Gwendolyn Parri, ACCO and Triage doctor USS Miranda

The Miranda's main sickbay was controlled chaos. The battle had not gone well for the Allied forces, and casualties were pouring into the treatment center. Rescued crew from escape pods and emergency modules were being carted in faster than they could be triaged and treated.

Every person with medical skills had been pressed into service. Gwen Parri was acting as triage doctor, separating the incoming casualties into barely manageable groups. There were three categories--the ones that could wait for treatment until the crisis was over, the patients that were in critical need of treatment, and those that no treatment would help. Sadly, the final category was filling up faster than the first two.

Gwen had a determined smile on her face as she comforted the patients as best and as quick as she could. In fact she hated this job, choosing who would be given a chance to live and who would die. She was dividing the groups and it tore at her soul. She remembered a young marine private earlier on, he could not have been more then 18 crying for his mother. She had to put him in the last category and he was left to die, there had not even been anyone to spare to sit with him until the end. She had checked on him as often as she could but on her last visit he had passed away.

A new patient on a zero grave gurney was swerved into place in the line outside sickbay even as one was moved for treatment. Even as Gwen was moving to check on the new patient, a familiar face looked up at Gwen.

"Thank God...." rasped Captain  Roberto Montoya ,commander of the late USS Agamemnon. "We thought the Miranda was done for....."

“Sir.” She whispered. “I had no idea… oh god…” She held the tricorder over him quickly while grasping his hand to give him strength. “Hold on, sir.”

The older man winced as he held his side. His uniform was blackened, as if from a fire, and an angry burn bubbled on side if his face.

"Is...is Anjoli all right?"

"She is, don't worry."  Gwen assured him.  "She is busy operating."  The young woman squeezed his hand again.  "What happened, sir?"

"In the battle...."

She read the scanner results, multiple broken ribs and worse a punctured lung that seemed to be giving him a lot of pain.  There were traces of radiation and nasty burns all over his body, that needed immediate treatment but were not lethal.  Most concerning was his cracked skill she detected some bleeding inside and that was serious   it could be life-threatening. So she gave him an urgent tag, and made sure he would be first in mind to go into surgery, any surgeon who was not his daughter.

"Don't worry Sir, try not to talk, we will be taking good care of you."  It seemed a little quieter at the moment.  So Gwen started the anti radiation treatment herself, but first she made sure his breathing was a little easier.

"...no, you must listen. Anasta....Anjoli's mother....she was aboard the Agamemnon...."

He wheezed and coughed violently, and a bit of red came to his lips.

"Oh God… " Gwen 's heart missed a beat.  "Do you know…  is she…" she couldn't finish, with trembling fingers she worked on his lung injury.

"I don't know....she wouldn't evacuate...wanted (cough) to stay at my side....then we were hit by that monster....and everything went dark."

~Shit~ Gwen thought. She couldn't really leave here, they needed her. "Don't talk, sir.  You will make it worse.  I will ask somebody to try and find out what happened to your wife.  Most likely she was evacuated to another ship."

Montoya's hand met her's. He had a band of reddish gold upon his finger, similar to Gwen 's.

"Just...do your best for my crew. The Agamemnon was our home...and now...it's gone. We lost so many good people...Dantonio....Xon...even Una Karaplidies ..."

“Ssssss sir. No more talking or I will have to sedate you.  I promise you and will do what I can."  Gently she smoothed his hair.  "You are family, I will do my best."

The injured man finally began to fade from the pain medication. "Anasta....I should have made her stay at the starbase...."

"No ifs, you guys love each other, she would never have stayed." Gwen continued to stroke him, as it seemed to calm him down. She looked around to see if Tymm had finished with his last patient.  And that the same time waved an orderly and a nurse over.

Tymm emerged from one of the operating theatres to tear off his bloody surgical gown for a fresh one. He saw Gwen 's urgency and moved his spiny self over to assist. One of the nurses struggled to put a new gown over his bulk.

"What's the situation, Doctor Parri ?"

“Doctor, this man has serious internal injuries.” Quickly she told him the complete list. “Also it is Doctor D'Bari 's father. Could you please operate on him straight away.”

Tymm nodded grimly.

"A patient with such high honor deserves a doctor with equal talent."

The spiny doctor gave a nod towards the operating theatres.

"I want OR 2, privacy settings please."

"Thank you, Tymm." Gwen said, wanting to hug him. Tymm gave the smallest of nods to acknowledge her gratitude. The captain's injuries were not beyond his skills, but there were many patients today that were.

"You will be in the best of hands, father."  She kissed his forehead.

Montoya weakly clutched at Gwen 's hand.

"Anjoli....take care of her. If Anasta's gone....it will break her heart."

“I know… I will… bur for now we will keep hope, father. You get well.”

Tymm turned to prepare for more surgery, stalking away into the depths of the sickbay.

Gwen watched as orderlies wheeled Montoya into the operation room. She had to swallow hard.

Now she turned to the nurse and the orderly.

" Susan , I don't want doctor D'Bari to know her father is here.  She needs to concentrate on her work now.  Could you please tell the nurses not to mention it to her for now, I will mention it to her later."

"Yes, Doctor...."

The two nodded somberly, understanding completely. They started to move Montoya into the queue for the surgery.

“And Kevin . I need to find out if her mother survived. Now I cannot be missed here, can you recommend someone who might have time to find out for us? It is really important.” She told the orderly.

The orderly looked back with a frown, trying to think of someone.

"There's Teep.... Dr D'Bari 's yeoman.....he's good at finding things. And with D'Bari in surgery, he's probably just looking for something to do to help....."

“Oh thank you, Kevin . I will go find him right away.” She ran away looking for Teep.

Finally she spotted him walking around anxiously scribbling on a PADD.

“Teep!” She shouted. “Over here!”

The squirrelly human looked for the source of the voice, the hurried to Gwen's side with a worried look.

"What can I do for you, Dr Parri?"

“Teep, Joli's father is here, he is severely injured. His ship has been destroyed and he doesn't know what happened to his wife. Can you try and find her for me?” She asked him.

***USS Miranda, Main Sickbay****

Anjoli had just finished her medical log entry in the CMO office. Two straight days of surgical duty had given her a painful headache along with pending exhaustion. The pangs of hunger in her belly could be ignored, if only she could rest her eyes for a few precious minutes.

“You need to get some rest, doctor.” A familiar voice said behind her. “Even the best of surgeons need to sleep sometimes.”

Anjoli slowly spun her chair to face Gwen at her doorway. Gwen could see the toll of the last two days in her face. Her typical perkiness was nowhere to be found.

"I would, Doctor Parri...but there's no open beds.....but this chair was doing nicely."

"We need to talk, love." Gwendolyn sat down on the ground in front of her lover. She could not keep the truth from her any longer.

"Oh, no...."

Running her hand through her unkept hair, Anjoli sighed. From Gwen 's grim expression, bad news was coming. Perhaps a mutual friend was lost in the battle. Anjoli knew so many in the Miranda's crew, it was difficult to even venture a guess.

Anjoli leaned down to cup Gwen 's cheek, her thumb softly caressing the satin skin.

The contact with her partner gave her renewed strength, even if it would only be temporary.

"What is it, khadamia?" she asked softly.

Gwen grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Love, your father was brought in. His ship…. His ship was destroyed. Tymm operated on him and he has come through very well, he is resting comfortably and is in no danger anymore.”

This was not what she had expected to hear, and the terrible news caught her off guard. Her face twisted with this fresh grief, but a cold thrill of fear stopped her.

"Papa?"

The emerald woman didn't recognize her own voice.She got up and moved quickly towards the door.

"Papa? Donde esta mama? Por favor....donde esta mama?"

Gwen may not have understood the words, but the intent was clear. The Welsh woman followed her instantly. "Your father should rest." She had not understood most of what was said that she understood papa and mama. "Joli, Teep is looking for her. We are doing what we can."

Anjoli, hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, urgently searched sickbay. Finally she shook herself of the immediate shock long enough to check the computer display for where patients were located. WIth Gwen on her heels, Anjoli stopped at the doorway to her father's room. Captain Montoya was still sedated, but his face was peaceful for the moment.

"Papa...." Anjoli whispered, at the moment more little girl than experienced Starfleet physician. The sight of her father like this--the living symbol of freedom to an enslaved child--broke her heart.

Gwen embraced her and held her very close. “you see, he is not in any pain. Tymm assured me the surgery went very well, but he will need to recover for some time, love. He will need you very much.”

Anjoli felt so small and bewildered at the moment. Only Gwen 's attentions kept her from crying out in worry and frustration.

"Mama would never have left his side..."

“Sweetheart if they stayed close together there is a good chance she was rescued as well.” Gwen rocked her gently.

"...or I may never know her fate...just like my sister...."

"No, we will find her. There were many people around her, we will find out what happened." Gwen assured her.

"Oh Great Sha'nana ...protect her.....please....."

With that simple prayer to the Great Mother, Anjoli rested her head upon Gwen 's shoulders and weeped quietly.

And her girlfriend just held her close, gently rocking her. It was the only thing she could do right now to offer support. Silently she hoped Teep would come back soon with news, and good news.

"Running away...." Part Two

(Set half an hour before contact with the Hydrans)

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Sara-Jayne Agathon, Civilian

***Location: USS Galaxy, deck 36, Main Engineering***

"Are you scared?" Kimberly asked, echoing Sara's earlier question.

Dhanishta's first reaction was to say 'no of course not' coupled with 'I'm a Starfleet officer, we don't get scared'. But even though she and Burton had been friends for only a short time, anyone with half a brain could see through that line.

"Let's put it this way, I recorded a message home." she replied nodding towards the computer on the desk, "I haven't done that before, ever." She smiled again, trying to cover up how she was feeling.

"I used to do that, but when I was on the Arizona the ship was destroyed and one got sent by accident to my big brother even though I'd survived. Scared him witless for a week," she muttered ruefully, "he made me promise not to record any more, just to make it back alive," ~ something I hope I can do! ~ she added silently.

Checking a chrono she pushed away from the desk and looked to Dhani, "I just wanted to say, before everything goes screwy, you take care of yourself okay, 'cause we've gotta get drunk again when this is over."

Dhanishta smiled, "When this is over we are getting more than drunk. I expect you to have a stomach pump ready for when we are done!" she grinned wildly.

Giving Dhani a quick impulsive hug Kimberly turned to the door, as she got there she paused, "Hey, one other thing, have you met a Lieutenant by the name of Miramon Terrik?" she asked.

Half turning back to the desk Dhanishta stopped when she heard that name. A knot twisted in her guts, her smile faded, ~So much for counselor client confidentiality.~ she thought sourly.

Frowning slightly, in mock contemplation, Dhanishta looked up at Kimberly, "I don't recognize the name." she lied, "But then I do talk to a lot of people throughout the day, nature of the job." She smiled lightly, "Not good with name's. Much better with faces."

"Oh this face you'd remember," she said with a strange look on her face, "he's cute, 'very' cute," she added absently.

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow, her concern shifting from herself and her own conscious to the potential interest of her friend, "Cute?" she enquired surprised.

"Yeah, you know... Cute," she said a little vaguely, "cute in a decidedly grabbable sort of way."

Dhanishta's jaw fell slightly. Her mind stalling for a few seconds while she processed just what Kimberly had said. "Cute." She repeated once more, "Grabbable." Her tone pitched slightly almost as if she were asking a question, but she didn't really want confirmation of that; her imagination was taking her places that she really didn't want to go, and to images that she aught to have her eyes burned out for.

She squinted at her friend, that look of disbelief still on her face, "Let me get this straight." Dhani began, "You have come down here, to Engineering, as we are preparing to go to war, as an army of Federation and Romulan ships gather outside, while an armada of Hydran war ships are on their way to slaughter us all, to tell me that this guy is cute and if I read between the lines correctly you would really like to take him out for a test drive (?)." she paused her head tilted to the side in a quizzical manner, "Do you have no sense of priorities?" she asked throwing her arms up the ridiculousness of it.

"Test drive?" Kimberly replied with a small trace of mirth in her voice, "that's a unique way of putting it. But, as a matter of fact I do have a sense of priority, however right now at this moment, I don't need to be reminded that my sickbay is ready to accept the dead and the dying, or that we all might be dead in the next few hours. I need something to be normal. And Goddess forbid something should happen to us in the near future I'd rather my last thought not be 'I wish I'd asked her!'" she admitted with a small sigh.

Dhani laughed, "Seriously your last wish would be that you had you'd asked me if I thought some guy was cute?" She couldn't contain her amusement at that and laughed harder, clutching her stomach, "Hon," she exclaimed as the fits of giggles shook her, "you need to get out more!"

Chuckling as well Kimberly had to wait for her own giggle fit to subside before she could reply, "Well, I didn't say it 'would' be, just that I'd rather it weren't my last thought. I imagine a lot would go through my mind if something happened, but that would be an embarrassing last thought," she admitted, "but agreed, I do need to get out more.... So.... do you think he's cute?" she asked again.

"Erm, cute.. Terrik, Miramon..." she raised her eyebrows again and frowned. She hadn't really paid much attention to what he looked like when she had barged into his quarters the other night, all she had cared about is that he had 'good listener' as a job description.

"He has nice eyes." Dhani offered finally with a shrug.

~ Mmmm, among other things! ~ Kimberly reminded herself silently, "I think we'll have to continue this once things have calmed down a bit," she said a little regretfully, "but I am glad I managed to brighten your day," she added with a sly grin as she stood and made for the door.

Dhani smiled, "You mean the thought of war alone wasn't enough?" she jested back.

From the doorway Kimberly looked over her shoulder, "You take care!"

"You to-" Dhani was cut off as the klaxons began to blare out. Her expression changed in a second. "Its poker face time." she muttered coldly following Kimberly out.

Within in minutes the engineering crews were lining up, exactly as they had practiced during drill and phasers were handed out; every officer was to be armed for the possibility that they might be boarded.

Dhanishta noted the expression on Kimberley's face as she reached the exit, "Lock and load people." Dhanishta said her eyes keeping level with Burtons above the crowd. "Take up your stations, this is not a drill." Through her poker face she let her eyes soften at her friend; this upcoming battle was going to be hard on them all. Despite their opposing views of warfare Dhani still understood where Burton came from, and her heart did ache for her.

"They're Here..."

Lt. Katara Elarin, ACMO/Hazard Three

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

"Careful now. We don't want a sudden release of pressure to shake this thing apart." Katara sat hunched over the engineer as they tried to open yet another pressure door on one of the hulks. She hated EVAs.

This was to be the last before they investigated the flagship of the fleet.

So far they had found little evidence to show the events that took place. Some strange energy signatures and some anomalous impact markings on the vessels exterior had been noted and would be passed to intelligence and tactical when they got back.

No survivors yet, she doubted that would change. The first ship they'd visited had clearly been hit early...some of the crew still in their bunk rooms...they never had a chance.

"Two minutes, lieutenant." The young hazard operative said. Katara could see the man was scared, his hands shaking slightly. She couldn't blame him...who could?

Her communicator crackled into life. [Avalanche to Elarin]

"Elarin here. Go ahead."

[Ma'am I don't want to worry you but there's a blip on sensor the size Andorian mammoth...and it's coming this way]

"Could be a pick up ship. Send 'our' Hydran fighter to investigate.

Tell them not to engage unless absolutely necessary and to disable rather than destroy. I want to know what ship they're headed to...we find that we find the other scavengers. Keep yourselves hidden...I don't want to walk home."

[All received. Avalanche out.]

'Great' She thought to herself. The worst that could have happened had now, in fact, happened.

"Pressure equalized. Door opening." Came the call through the com.

Katara returned her attention to the opening doorway. The bridge of the ship unfolded in front of them, half of the hull missing to show the vastness of space. Bodies caught on wreckage hanging in mid-air like some kind of macabre puppet theatre.

Then, something moved. A blur of grey in a sea of black, a muffled moan as her engineer caught the blow across the chest propelling him back down the corridor, gravity absent and unable to stop him.

She spun round and found herself face to face with a Hydran scout...now she knew where that ship was heading...right here.

It dawned on here that /this/ might in fact be the worst that could have happened...and now, it had.

"Careful What You Wish For"

Principle Characters

Cpt. Daren M'Kantu. CO USS Galaxy

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil, Acting CO, USS Exeter

~You wanted to practice your command skills.~

The counselor kept silently reminding himself of that fact as he, Lt.

Mullen and Ens. Montgomery left the shuttlebay. Getting back on the Galaxy's bridge watch rotation was really all he'd had in mind, though.

"Lydia, get me run-down on your department," Lt. Mullen ordered. "Status of security personnel and all security-related systems."

As Ensign Montgomery gave her assent, Brian looked up distractedly from his thoughts. Mullen's request was a reasonable one, one Elessidil himself would have requested if he hadn't been beaten to it. He reminded himself that he'd appointed Mullen as acting XO for two

reasons: one, he was the most experienced of the Exeter's remaining officers, and two, having one of their own in a position of authority would help with the adjustment the rest of the crew was having to make.

And he had to admit to himself that there was a third reason: he wanted to try to placate Mullen's own desire for command. Little had been said between the two men thus far, a fact which in and of itself highlighted the tension that remained between them, but at least kept it from being too out in the open . . . for now.

"Lieutenant, check out the situation in Eng-"

"Engineering, and see how Barrett's doing," Mullen said, finishing Brian's sentence. "Good idea, counselor," he added in a thickly patronizing tone. With that, he abruptly turned and left the other two as he headed off for his new destination.

As Elessidil watched him leave, he realized this was going to be achallenge on many levels.

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

With the main bridge damaged, Brian went to the quarters he'd been assigned when he first came aboard to continue with his own work before going to the battle bridge. Among the first things he did was contact Captain M'Kantu. He'd learned of Captain Summers' death, which left M'Kantu as the sole commander of the fleet. The counselor knew it was important for him to know more about the situation aboard the Exeter; he also couldn't deny he was looking for a little support too.

"Captain M'Kantu, thank you for taking the time to speak with me," he began, speaking to the image of his CO on the monitor before him. "I thought I should speak to you personally about what's happened here on the Exeter." He paused briefly, then sighed slightly. "Captain Vogler and Commander Reardon were killed in the battle, Sir," he said with some gravity, getting right to the first and perhaps most relevant point.

"Just before she died, Captain Vogler put me in command of the ship."

M'Kantu's eyes betrayed the loss that he didn't allow to show on his face at the news. He looked at Brian for a few seconds, nodded once, and started to speak, his voice crisp and professional despite the fatigue evident in it. "Thank you." His hands moved below the level of the pick-up. "By the authority vested in me as surviving Task Force Commander, you are hereby given a brevet promotion to Captain, and confirmed as the Captain of the Exeter. So logged at this time, and I am transferring that information to your ship's computer and ordering the Exeter's command codes altered to reflect that." He met Brian's eyes.

"Welcome to the hot seat, Brian," he said quietly.

The erstwhile counselor had to apply great effort to keep his jaw from dropping. "Captain Elessidil" was certainly nothing he'd ever expected hear in his lifetime, and as if the surprise of that alone weren't enough, it somehow made the position he was in seem all the more daunting.

"Thank you, Sir," he managed to quietly reply. "I'll do everything in my power to protect this ship and its crew. It's going to be a challenge, though. We've lost nearly a third of the crew, including department heads for helm and tactical."

Daren's image nodded. "Maggie told me that she was running with shorthanded and with a largely inexperienced crew. How are they holding up?"

"Most of the officers on board are young and relatively inexperienced, as you already know. Losing Captain Vogler hit them pretty hard, but they're coping as best as can be expected under the circumstances."

"Understood." M'Kantu, oddly enough, looked like he did understand.

"What's the Exeter's status?"

There's a lot of work to do. We managed to get away with navigation and propulsion systems intact, but we took heavy damage to the saucer section and to specific areas of the ship where the Hydrans focused on taking out our primary power relays. We're compensating with secondary relays for now, but the chief engineer says we won't be ready for another battle until we can repair or replace the primaries. The bridge has been rendered unusable and we have hull damage on several decks."

Brian paused. As a counselor, he'd experienced the death of fellow crewmembers and its effect on those left behind, but for the first time he felt the impact from a CO's perspective. It wasn't just like losing family; it was like a father losing his children. "And then there are the casualties to deal with," he said, his voice sounding strangely hollow to him.

There was a pause as Daren's hands worked out of sight again. "Thanks to all the repairs Galaxy required and several ships coming in with duplicate parts for her, the fleet can probably provide replacements for anything that can't be replicated. I'll talk to the Romulans about anything that we can't scrounge up." He looked up. "What about personnel?"

Brian thought for a moment. "Well, we could definitely use some help in Engineering and Medical; those departments really have their hands full right now. I could use some experienced personnel in Tactical and Navigation. The Ops chief is the most senior person left of the Exeter's original crew. I've appointed him First Officer, so I could use someone to replace him in Ops. We had a few fighters take refuge in our shuttle bay just before the fleet left Romulus; the Exeter doesn't have fighters of its own, so some expertise helping them with repairs would be good too."

"I know that I can give you a Tactical Officer - Saul Bental held that position before he transferred back to Intelligence. He's qualified and sharp. I'll check with the Department Heads on Galaxy and the CO's of the other ships in the fleet and see who else we can spare to help you out." More hand movement ensued. "Is there anything else?"

"One more thing, if I may, Sir."

"Yes?"

"I guess I'm repeating Captain Vogler's request, but now that I'm in command of the ship, we could use another counselor on board. I'd like all the help I can get with helping the crew get through the shock of their losses. Can you spare Counselor Terrick?"

Daren nodded. "I'll check with Commander Dallas. If she okays it, he's yours for the duration, Brian."

Studying M'Kantu's face, the Betazoid counselor could see that he too was under a lot of pressure. "Captain . . . you may consider this none of my business, but . . . have talked with Counselor Dallas?" His tone of his question made it clear that there it was also a suggestion.

"She's camped outside my door, Brian," Daren sighed. "I'll be seeing her as soon as I finish talking to everyone else, so she can knock me off her list and move on to the crew."

"Very well, Captain. Sir, I want to thank you again for your help."

Elessidil smiled slightly. "I know we'll be talking again."

"You can count on that," Daren nodded. "Get your ship working, Brian - we'll be going back."

From desperation to happiness

Ensign Lela Beral, Operations Officer

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer

Sickbay, USS Galaxy

- - - - - - - - - -

As soon as Lela could leave her post she ran to the sickbay. She entered completely out of breath and immediately she began to search the biobeds, if her husband is not on one of them. She walked among the wounded with a desperate countenance in her face, which was covered with tears.

Still up to her elbows, almost literally, in wounded Kimberly didn't even notice the young Trill who seemed to be frantically scouring the ward until she literally bumped into her. Steadying herself by holding onto the Trill she looked the Ensign up and down automatically to assess if she were injured visibly.

"Are you hurt?" she asked simply as she pulled out a tricorder.

"No madam, I'm not. I'm looking for someone. Do you have any Trills here? Men? He's not from Galaxy, but from Lexington. I know that Galaxy participated on rescue operations after her destruction."

During her speech, Lela was still looking around, searching for Pilax. She did not realize that it is quite impertinent to not look into the eyes of Lieutenant. All her mind was concentrated to one goal: To find him.

Looking around the room herself she tried to recall exactly who was where, ~ Too many! ~ she muttered silently, "If I remember, most of the rescued crew are in one of the triage ward, holodecks two or three. I was just heading down there, would you like to come?"

she asked, indicating the door.

When Lela did not spot any Trill in the sickbay, her hope aimed to the holodecks. Yes, that's it, he has to be there. But if not, he still might be on some another ship, which were rescuing the crew of Lexington. She left the sickbay, following lieutenant through the corridors.

"So who are you looking for?" Kimberly asked curiously as the walked, grateful for the moment's lull in the fight, "Friend or Family?"

"Family sir, husband. He was a medical officer on USS Lexington. I hope he's all right." A moment or two later, they were entering holodeck 2.

Looking around the non functional holodeck Kimberly waved a nurse over and quickly got an update on the situation in the triage ward, "Thirty two patients are in here," she informed Lela, most of them not from the Galaxy," running a finger down the list she frowned, "what did you say the name was again?"

"I haven't tell yet sir. Pilax Galar."

"Over here," Kimberly indicated, "leading Lela to an antigrav gurney that was lined up against the wall with several more she held onto the young Trill's elbow gently as they walked over, "he was injured when his ship was destroyed," she started to explain, "we have him listed as serious, but stable for now. He was briefly exposed to vacuum during an explosive decompression incident, along with a few broken bones and some plasma burns. Nothing we can't heal, but as he's in no life threatening danger we've had to focus on more seriously injured personnel. We've stabilised him and will be monitoring him, we'll treat his injuries as soon as we can,"

she promised.

Lela was listening to doctor's report very carefuly, her eyes aimed on her and Pilax in turns. During doctor's speech, her face was changing rapidly. In the end, she was very happy; a brilliant smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you, sir, thank you. I know, that more serious injuries are anterior. He can wait and so can I. Most important thing is, that he'll be all right...Thank you again for your time. If you'll need some help, you can contact me anytime, I'll be at your service... I'm a woman of many skills."

Than Lela knelt to her husband and took his hand to hers. And again tears appeared in her eyes, but this time they were the tears of happines...

"Sucked out! - Part One"

Lt Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Second Platoon CO, SFMC
Ensign Keldan - Operations Officer
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

(Set directly after "Hull Breach")

*** Location: Deck 36, USS Galaxy, outside Main Engineering ***

Dhanishta picked herself up off the floor. She didn't bother to dust down

her uniform or straighten it out, or even check herself for injuries. She

knew that she had some from the fact that there was blood everywhere, the fact that she kept wobbling; and no, that time it wasn't the ship, add to that her hearing was off, and she could taste blood, and well the factors in favour of her being injured were high. The pain hadn't kicked in yet, or maybe she had flicked that receptor off. She wasn't really sure. What mattered was restoring power to emergency force fields and quickly!

Running down the corridor as fast as she could, or rather bouncing down the walls; much like a ball in an old Terran arcade game of pin-ball, she reached the turbo lift.

"Deck nine!" she called out breathlessly leaning against the wall of the lift.

Now, perhaps was a good time to work out exactly what hurt, and maybe do

some impromptu first aid on herself. The only down fall would be the

problem that once she registered the pain she might not be able to block it out again. So instead she just leant against the wall and prayed that the turbo lift would hurry up and also that it wouldn't blow up!

*** Location: Deck 11, USS Galaxy ***

It seemed as if the metal superstructure of the corridor on Deck 11 was rippling, like waves in a puddle hit by a drop of rain. The sound of metal tearing and rending assailed Keldan's ears, but he didn't have time to clamp his hands over them before he was thrown from his feet. A sudden blast of air and warmth assailed him, and for a split second he saw a boiling cloud of ionized plasma roaring toward him, filling the corridor. Just as it threatened to incinerate him, however, the flow of air suddenly reversed.

Now Keldan was being sucked down the corridor...or, more accurately, blown down the corridor...not unlike a piece of paper caught in a violent windstorm. He twisted his body around until he was looking right into the wind, and scrambled to get a hold of something...anything...to anchor himself to until the emergency containment units could seal the hull breach.

He found a meagre hold on the small ledge formed by an inlaid door. His fingers strained but would not let go, and Keldan silently thanked the gods for every sheer-rock cliff face that he'd climbed, both real and holographic. Plastered against the side of the corridor, the topsy-turvy world that the Galaxy had become was, for a moment, both fascinating and terrifying.

The wind subsided suddenly as the forcefields hummed to life. Keldan slid back down to the deck floor and remained there for a moment, finding his breath coming a little easier. There was an eerie quiet for a few moments, broken only by the sudden sizzle of a severed power conduit throwing off a cascade of sparks.

Pushing himself up and turning around, he surveyed the damage that had been wrought.

The explosion had cut through the ship, destroying the corridor ahead of him in what looked to be a five or six meter gap. It must have also taken out most of Science Lab 7 as well as the power and maintenance conduits in the secondary hull.

Walking over to the edge, he looked through at the mangled remains of Science Lab 7 and into the void beyond. If the blast had been just a second or two later, he would have been incinerated or worse, blown out into space to die a slow, agonizing death.

But he was alive, and he was going to stay that way.

*** Location: Deck 11, USS Galaxy, Science Lab 7 ***

It is said that as you die, that your life flashes before your eyes. Yet as Steven hurtled towards the breach in the hull, heading for the cold oblivion that awaited in the depths of space, all that came to his mind was a image of Faylin playing the harp. Whether it meant he wasn't going to die, or some cruel twisted joke by the almighty, teasing him about what he was going to miss out on, he didn't know.

What he did know, however, was the tremendous pain that assaulted him as he slammed into an invisible barrier. His mind didn't have time to contemplate the emergency containment forcefield that had formed, as a temporary replacement for the now missing pieces of hull, and had saved his life, as his body slipped down to the deck.

Barely inches from the now jagged edge of the deck, which now jutted out into nothing but space, Steven groaned as his already sore body crumpled hard to the metal floor. The fall knocked the remaining air from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath; his lungs feeling like they were on fire.

How long he lay there, he didn't know. Seconds, minutes, hours, none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was that he was in agony. He didn't dare move, for fear of the stabbing pain he felt in his abdomen.

Time passed by slowly as he lay there. It was ages before he even thought about trying to move. But finally, he got it in his mind that he needed to get up, and find Strom, yet his body had other ideas. It was more content to just lie there, and hope the pain dissipated quickly.

Finally, Steven managed to reach into his vest and pull out the painkillers that Kimberly had given him. Slamming the nozzle of the device to his skin, he pressed the button and felt the medication start coursing through his veins. He sighed softly, content that the pain would dissipate and allow him to move soon.

Giving it time to work, Steven looked around what remained of the lab. Most of the benches were still intact, but he could see that the majority of the vials and equipment no longer resided in the lab, but were likely floating out in space somewhere.

"Strom?" He called out as he tried to rise. "Strom, are you there?"

Silence.

"Strom?" He called out again as he gingerly got to his feet. Looking around again, he could barely make out, in the darkened room, that Strom was not in the lab, and since he couldn't recall hearing the door opening either, that just left... He turned towards the gaping hole in the hull and the battle beyond, as his jaw dropped.

"Computer, locate Ensign Strom."

"Ensign Strom is not aboard the ship." The computer replied.

Damn, he was gone.

"Computer, inform CIC of a hull breach in Science Lab 7, Deck 11. One fatality; Ensign Strom. Emergency Containment is holding."

"Affirmative." The feminine voice stated in response.

Taking a few ginger steps towards the door, Steven reached down and untangled his rifle from the leg of a partially upturned workbench, grateful that it hadn't been sucked out into space. He had worked too hard on getting the rifle up to a level he felt comfortable with.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought about the stoic Vulcan he had just met and then seen die. Opening them again, he realized that life was short and no matter what happened, one needed to take everything that came your way with both hands. This was the second time he had felt this way in such a short time, and he was damned if he wasn't going to listen to his little voice within.

Using his rifle as a walking stick, he hobbled towards the door, and the relative safety that lay beyond.

He was only half way there, when the loud banging noise started. Steven suppressed a shiver as drops of cold sweat slipped down the back of his neck, and soaked the shirt he wore under his armour. His heartbeat increased as his eyes darted around the dark room trying to locate the source. Spotting movement in the corner of his eye, he turned to find the door to the science lab opening slowly, inch by inch. In time with the noise it opened. "At least it isn't the forcefield failing." He muttered under his breath.

He raised his rifle and took aim at the gap that was forming, "Who's there?"

The door opened another inch and two sets of fingers appeared, preparing to push the door apart even wider. A head appeared in the gap, but after taking note of where the rifle was pointed, the door abruptly stopped its movement.

"You're not going to shoot your rescuer, are you, Lieutenant?" Keldan asked rather plainly. "Because if you do, I'll still live long enough to drop the forcefields and blow your ass out into space."

Steven frowned at the thought of going through that experience again. "No.

I'm not. We are at war though, so I was taking a precaution. I'm Steven.

Welcome to what's left of Science Lab number 7."

*** In-between Deck 10 and 9 ***

The Turbolift was slow but it still worked. It went down with a steady pace. Michael thanked Heaven for that. The first part, from Deck 11 to 10, had been hell. He couldn't get to a Turnbolift there and even if he had, all power was down in the section he was. So he had to use the Jefferies tube all the way down to Deck 10, and with the gaping wound in his left arm it had been the worst trip ever.

Michael just stood there holding his left arm thinking he would have to find some makeshift bandage or else he would lose too much blood. He tried not to think of the pain but that was loosing that battle. His face turned into one grim frown. His arm had to wait until later. There were far more pressing matters to attend to now.

*** Deck 9 ***

Two minutes had passed since the turbo lift had stopped moving and Dhanishta was still leaning against the wall. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, her head dropping to one side.

Her mind jolted her back into consciousness as the computer spoke in a garbled voice, informing her yet again that she was now on deck nine.

Taking a deep breath Dhani pushed herself from the wall with what remaining strength she had left. It seemed now that she was out of engineering her body seemed more interested in just giving up. Only her mind screamed about her duty and the vow she had made to the ship and its crew. She wished that her body felt the same way.

Stumbling forward she tripped slightly on her own feet and had to grab the doorframe to steady herself.

Reeling round the frame and out into the corridor she smiled faintly at the image she saw before her.

"Michael!" she cried out, emotion catching the edge of her voice. She was so glad to see him. Stumbling into him she wrapped her arms around him, "I'm so glad your safe." she breathed into his shoulder.

Resting there in his embrace for just a moment was like ten shots of adrenaline. She could feel her own strength returning, and also a knot rising in her throat. Pulling back she hastily wiped the tear away that was forming in her eye and smiled softly, "Are you alright?" she asked taking a step back to look at him, her eyes finally focusing.

"Hey, I'm fine...don't worry." Michael answered, still suppressing the pain that Dhani's embrace had caused. His right hand moved to his left arm again, just under his shoulder. He looked at Dhani and saw several deeps cuts in her flesh where her uniform was torn apart. She was bleeding seriously. He forced himself to stay calm not wanting to alarm, "Come, sit down. And for once do as you're told, okay. Just trust me on this."

"Michael, if I sit down I don't think I will get up again." Dhani replied burying her face in her hands as she began to cry, "Michael this is so screwed up." She looked at him through her fingers, "I am so scared!" she confessed quietly her body beginning to jerk with the tears.

"I just don't know what to do anymore. Everything we put into place the Hydrans are just knocking down. And all these people." she trailed off gesturing to the ship and those on it, "all of them. so many are dead and there is nothing we can do to stop them."

Ensign Nicholi Keough

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

USS Galaxy, NCC-70637

Deck 32, Various Corridors

Post Hydran Attack

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

The lower portion of the security tricorder was flipped open with the familiar mechanical sound of activation. A brilliant display of blinking lights and steady LED's was initiated as sensor readings started to filter in, absorbed after several input locate commands were tapped into the device.

With a gentle sweeping motion, data poured into the primary sensor module and activated the main display, a small screen positioned in the middle of the unit. The image was that of the current layout of deck thirty two with several, peach colored blips ever present on sectioned off pieces of corridor that represented the current status of the deck.

These blips were of three types; one was of a solid light, meaning the life form scanned was alive and well, another was that of a steady blinking, meaning that the life form scanned was injured, but non-life threatening at the current moment. And, the remaining was a fast paced red blinking that indicated the life form needed immediate assistance due to medically erroneous life form readings.

The young Betazoid man adjusted the scanning frequency to only zone in on those that required medical attention, and with such an adaptation to the sensor output only ten blips remained present on the display.

As the Security Officer accomplished this particular process, he was joined shortly by four additional Security personnel per his request.

A moment's time passed as the final command was inputted into the tricorder before Nicholi turned towards the four crewmembers. Jet black eyes came to focus on their forms as he gave a soft smile in each of their directions. They were quite distraught, yet allowed little of their fear and anguish to show through complacent and neutral expressions. It was their emotions he could feel, ever present among them, like a thick blanket wrapped around each one…drenched in the heavy aroma of fear, anger, sadness and despair.

He wished to console their various emotions, but knew that could not be accomplished in such a setting. All that could be done was to reinforce a sense of positivistic attitude and continue with the retrieval of injured crewmembers.

"Alright," his voice was ever so soft, yet very audible. It had been a characteristic noticed by many within the first few minutes of meeting the young officer. The belief that one did not need a loud voice to accomplish what needed to be done was ever present. And it was through this minor attribute of the gentleman, that individuals found him to be a reliable, respectable and confident officer…just a bit shy from time to time.

"There are currently ten injured crewmembers located throughout this deck," he reported as he gestured towards the tricorder display. At such a gesture, the four Security personnel removed their own tricorders and held them out to gather their own sensor readings.

"Let's work in teams of two and start locating them, assessing their injuries and escorting them to Main Sickbay. I know the field medics will greatly appreciate our efforts. If it seems as if they cannot be moved due to their injuries, call for assistance and we will assess the situation." Nicholi nodded as confidently as possible, he was still new…fresh from the Academy himself. What gave him the inclination that these individuals would listen to him? Perhaps there was none, but they needed a bit of leadership and he was the one able and available to dish out such experience.

"Crewman's Tal and Morrison," his voice spoke out, indicating to the Human male and female Security Officer's standing beside one another. "Evacuate the injured from deck thirty two west," a hand gestured towards the corridor directly behind him. "Petty Officer Christenson and Chief Tavorak," he indicated to the Human and Klingon pair, "please evacuate the injured from deck thirty two east." He gestured towards the corridor entrance opposite of the team. "Please report in to myself or Ensign T'Rei once you have completed your duties or require assistance." A brief moments silence lingered as his eyes flickered into each one of the officer's standing before him, "any questions?" Again, there was but a brief silence as none presented any inquiries at that moment. "Dismissed and good luck!"

He patted Chief Tavorak on the back as the bulky Klingon departed with Christenson as they headed down the south corridor.

Now it was time to locate Ensign T'Rei and coordinate efforts with the young woman.

"Code Blue!"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Ella Grey, Chief Engineer

Tae'ben, General Engineer

Sickbay - USS GALAXY

****

"There's a hull breach near the science labs!"

"Then make sure the emergency containment fields are active!" Kimberly shot back as she worked by touch alone to try and repair a severed artery, "and check with damage control, if we're gonna loose emergency power or it has to be rerouted I need to know 'now'

so we can get everyone out of here." Managing to grasp both ends of the slippery artery she attached the graft patch and directed a heat seal to fuse the temporary patch onto both ends. Releasing the suppressor field she checked quickly that the leak was stopped and turned to the nurse beside her, "close up and put him on a bio-monitor, we'll finish as soon as things calm down." Leaving the nurse to deal with the young ensign she looked around the chaotic ward and surveyed the people there, staggering as the ship shook again she saw one of the holodocs flicker momentarily before stabilising ~ Great, that's all we need! ~ she muttered. Hearing another call for a medical team she made a mental note to propose holoemitters around the ship. If they could simply transfer an EMH to wounded crew it would save a lot of time!

Grabbing a PADD she checked the status of the triage wards that had been set up in a holodeck and cargo bay, ~ Too many! ~ she cursed silently as she stepped over to a softly moaning terran Lieutenant whose body was covered in cryogel that was attempting to sooth the plasma burns that covered almost her entire body. Checking the IV that was pumping replacement fluids into her was still sufficiently full she paused a moment beside her, "Goddess above hear me in this dark hour, hear the blessing that I intone. Goddess of Mercy and Healing, nourish this worthy from your Sacred Bowl and heal her with your sacred Waters. Restore life to her withering cells and bless her healing with peace. Send your healing wisdom to her body to restore its blessed balance." She whispered quickly as she checked her vitals. Right now, it was the only other thing she could do!

The doors to Sickbay reluctantly hissed open and a young Romulan staggered in with the body of a woman in his arms.

"Help!" The Romulan cried out, his knees starting to buckle. "I think she stopped breathing again."

Leaving the horribly burned Lieutenant Kimberly stepped over and helped lift the body onto an antigrav stretcher, opening her tricorder she ran it over Ella's prostate form, "Who are you, what happened and are you hurt?" she said in a clipped and brusque tone, having no time right now for the usual pleasantries.

"Tae'ben," He replied, pushing a nurses' hand away. "I'm fine. A console exploded when the hellbore got us and I think she got electrocuted although I do not see any burn marks."

Checking for signs of electrocution it took only a moment for Kimberly to notice the damage to Ella's heart typically caused by a charge being applied across the delicate fibres that transmitted impulses to the heart muscle. "Nurse," she called out loudly, "Code Blue! I need a crash cart stat! Set the cardiac stimulator to three hundred joules and prep ten cc's of Cordrazine and twenty cc's of Inaprovaline now!" she ordered as she began manual CPR.

Running through manual CPR while the nurse ran a crash cart over she kept the rhythm up until she saw the cardiac stimulator placed on Ella's chest and a ventilator held near her head, "How long has she been like this?" she asked the Rihannsu as she checked her tricorder.

"She stopped breathing when the turbolift reached this deck." The Romulan replied shakily. "I found her right after the Hellbore impacted."

Administering the Inaprovaline Kimberly took the offered cardiac stimulator and looked around the gurney, "Clear!" she stated simply. Triggering the device she watched with concern as Ella shuddered as the charge was administered in an attempt to shock the heart back into action, "Another twenty cc's of Inaprovaline," she ordered, "and 5 cc's of Cortolin."

Monitoring Ella's vitals Kimberly watched a small flutter that was not soon repeated. Upping the charge on the stimulator she nodded to the nurse who administered the second round of drugs to her patient. "Clear!" she said again as she placed the device on Ella.

Sending a stronger charge into the Chief Engineer she briefly considered Ella's vocal implant, then just as quickly dismissed the thought. If the device were damaged at all by any of the charges being passed through her she would worry about replacing the unit at a later date, right now just keeping her alive was concern enough. Frowning at the lack of response she upped the cardiac device to its upper limit for Terrans and nodded to the nurse again, "Clear!"

Sending a third and stronger charge into Ella she looked to the nurse after finding no response again, "Ten cc's of Cordrazine," she ordered tersely, aware that such a strong dosage was typically enough to awaken a dead stick, but with the chaos ongoing at present subtlety was not an option. Overdosing on the strong stimulant was dangerous, but then so was death, and the latter was more permanent.

Triggering and forth shock at the highest setting again Kimberly watched hopefully as Ella shook violently for a moment before settling down. Sighing with some relief she watched the somewhat erratic rhythm that she detected bounce across her tricorder for a moment before settling into a slightly erratic routine. There was a flutter there that would have to be monitored, either caused by the large dose of Cordrazine or possible damage to the heart muscle, either way it was something that would have to be checked up on and monitored.

"Prep an IV," she ordered the nurse, "and add 15 mg Delactovine, find me a monitor to attach and add her to the cardiac care list,"

looking to Tae'ben, "She's alive, but we'll have to keep her here and monitor her for a while. Are you hurt?" she asked as she fitted several monitoring devices to Ella.

Tae'ben shook his head, watching the engineer. "I wasn't strong enough. She was too heavy for me to carry and I was too slow..."

"You got her here, and she's alive. Though next time call for an emergency transport rather than drag someone through the ship okay.

Now, where are you hurt?"

The boy gave the woman his injured hand. "I... forgot the procedure for injury." He was quiet for a minute before adding "It doesn't hurt much. I should get back to Engineering. There's a lot of damage to the ship."

Glancing at his hand Kimberly shook her head, "Have a seat, we can fix that in a moment then you might actually be able to hold onto your tools." Indicating a nearby stool she continued to work on Ella, making sure she was stable, for now, and that all the needed monitors were in place. Waving a nurse over she indicated the engineer, "Have a look at this gentleman would you, and monitor the Lieutenant here until I get back.. The nurse here will look after you, then you can get back to engineering," she said a little absently to Tae'ben, rapidly entering notes onto a PADD about Ella and her condition, "you'll have to excuse me I'm afraid,"

checking Ella once more she darted over to another bed nearby before she was even done speaking.

"This won't take long," the Jenovite nurse assured him, "do you have any allergies?" she asked as she ran her tricorder over his hand.

"Not that I'm aware of." He said. "I'm.. does this kind of thing happen often on Galaxy?"

"All too often," she replied sadly.

"Then please repair my hand as quickly as possible so that I may return to Engineering to prepare for the next time."

"Sit still then, and I'll be done as soon as I can," the nurse promised as she quickly worked.

"Palliative Care"

Ensign Robert Mathieson, MD USS Galaxy

Doctor Tocalus, Romulan Medical Administrator

Federation/Romulan Medical Unit

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

"Ever been t' Vulcan Tocalus?"

"No - I've never been of ch'rihan. Is it usual to have so much blood with this form of injury?"

"That's the thing 'bout disruptors, mate... they're good at disruptin'

thanks like flesh an' bone. Vulcan's an alright sort 'o place - if

ye don' mind nothin' but vegetables and a frikkin heat rash in all th'

wrong places. Hand us that laser scalpel."

"Scalpel. What is that small appendage at the beginning of the large intestine Doctor Mathieson? Some sort of genetic modification for your soldier class?"

The paper-pusher's last statement made the normally somber Cockney physician grin. "Th' boy's not of the 'soldier class' - he's of th'

human class. We've largely rid ourselves o' that sort o' bullshit years ago." Mathieson took a quick look at the elderly administrator pressed into medical service by the overwhelming presence of the Hydrans. The old Romulan was pale, and the human wasn't sure if it was from the presence of alien blood or the recent revelation of human society.

"When's th' last time ye were at th' business end o' medicine Tocalus?

Yer doin' fine, but ye don' seem too comfortable. Put that physiostimulator on that set o' sinew by th' hip... lowest settin'...

gentle... 'at's it..."

With some hesitation, the gleaming device was placed in the open cavity of the human patient and activated to increase the metabolic activity of the intestine's surrounding tissue. "It's working. And you gracefully avoided the question Ensign - what is the purpose of that organ?

"That? It's his bleedin' appendix. Damned if I know wot it's fer, but it looks healthy enough so let it be."

Tocalus looked up from the operation to glare at Mathieson. "What do you mean you don't know? How could you not know? What kind of a doctor are you?"

The Englishman's growl was quiet but forceful. "The kind that chews 'doctors' like yerself up afore tea an' makes fertilizer out of 'em.

As Hippocrates is my witness - th' appendix has no biological function known. No enzyme production, no hormone production, no nothin. It's an evolutionary footprint o' somethin' we had tens o' thousands o'

years ago. Ye don' like the truth? Ye can take yer suspicious, paranoid, bleedin'-useless ass out o' ere, or ye can make yerself useful and relearn yer craft. In case ye didn't notice, but more o'

yer people 're in line fer field surgery than mine."

Color returned quickly to Tocalus' face and the wrinkles around his mouth became more noticeable as his lips thinned to a grimace. "Very well, Ensign. You have my full attention. What next?"

Mathieson's own complexion calmed from deep red to it's current Cheron-sunburned crimson. "Wound's sealed. We've reattached an'

strengthened th' surroundin' an' supportin' sinew an' tissue. Best t'

seal th' cavity an' hook the lad up t' a unit o' Neodextraline t' let 'im recover from the fuid's e' lost outside."

The Romulan followed the Starfleet doctor's line of treatment, but was not content with the final procedure. "It seems insufficient Ensign - there should be more to be done for the patient."

"Aye, there should be more." Matieson agreed as he sealed the epidermis of the patient's abdomen. "I'd give me left nut fer a full scale protoplaser, osteotractors, a protodynoplaser, an a proper surgical support frame - but seein' as the slugs-that-walk 're occupyin' yer main hospital complexes, we've only one final treatment left t' us."

"And that is?"

"Prayer. They deserve it, an' I'd give it if I had the right. All I can do is go on t' the next and do me best. You too, pen-pusher - shake a leg."

Tocalus hesitated briefly before following the form of the short, bald, belligerent human. The alien was correct, of course - many Rihannsu urgently needed the skills he had allowed to atrophy in pursuit of social and political wealth. The human had proved quickly that despite being of the lowest officer rank the Federation had, he was far and above the most adept at field medicine and led by example and not the trappings of assigned authority.

He followed the human, but not before considering his own gods who, like his skills in medicine, had been neglected for many years.

"Four"

(Brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil

Commanding Officer

USS Exeter

With each passing hour, the thought of everything that had to be done had weighed heavier and heavier on Elessidil's mind. Captain M'Kanttu's promise that they would be returning to re-engage the Hydrans certainly hadn't come as a surprise, but Brian still had no idea how soon that would be. Even with the material and personnel assistance they would get from the Galaxy and other ships in the fleet, they were going to be working under the gun to ensure that the Exeter would be ready.

He had neither slept nor eaten since their retreat from Romulus, and despite how many times he kept telling himself that there was still so much to do, he knew he wouldn't be able to go without them indefinitely. He and Karyn would have been the first to pounce on any CO who deprived him/herself of the necessities of sleep and nourishment, arguing that no one was high enough on the ladder of responsibility to be superhuman. If nothing else, this experience of being in command of a ship would help him appreciate a little more the perspective of those COs.

Brian did, however, allow himself a little time to get cleaned up. He went back to his quarters for a quick shower and did his best to clean up some of the cuts that were still evident on his face. Sickbay was one of the stops on his itinerary; they could fix him up better then.

Stepping out of the shower, he was prepared to put his uniform back on; then realizing it looked worse than he did, he walked to the replicator to get a replacement . . .

And then he saw them.

They were small, tiny in fact, but there in the replicator tray as if by magic, were four gleaming pips.

Four.

He swallowed, suddenly wondering what the hell he was thinking to accept this position. He stared at them for a moment, not even bothering to question how they got there (though later he would assume it was some kind of automated thing the computer did upon M'Kantu's officially promoting him). It was as if he were afraid of them. Not just what they stood for, but actually afraid of *them*, as if touching them would cause him some kind of irreparable harm. Maybe it wasn't such a strange reaction after all.

Maybe the part of him that was screaming inside to get the hell out of there and back into his office on the Galaxy where he belonged was really the Voice of Reason. God, what he'd give to talk to Karyn right now.

As the passing seconds threatened to become minutes, Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He'd been in command situations before. He had the training. He had the ability. There were people depending on him now, all the way from the commander of the fleet to the lowliest crewman trolling the bowels of the Exeter.

Even the dead seemed to silently remind him they were counting on him from somewhere beyond: try as he might, it was Captain Vogler's face that he couldn't get out of his mind.

"You're in command, Commander . . . go."

It wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't a wish. It was a statement. An order.

And a vote of confidence.

Brian knew he could stand here and argue with the ghost of Maggie Vogler and with himself for hours, but one thing was certain:

whatever he did, he wasn't going to be able to do it naked. So summoning his courage, he reached out and took the pips. Then he requested a uniform. Red. A color he hadn't worn since he was Chief Helmsman of the Miranda, a life that almost seemed to be someone else's now. He might have been more comfortable in the tealish-blue he was used to, but none of this was for him. He was Betazoid; going naked through the ship wouldn't have been that big a deal as far as he was concerned. No, ultimately this was for the crew, the people who, like it or not, were depending on him the most. They wanted a leader.

Regardless of his own apprehensions, he had been thrust into the part. He had to at least dress appropriately.

Several minutes later, Brian stood in front of the mirror, silently regarding himself in this new uniform, this new role. The pips still scared him, but they were part of the ensemble. So one at a time, he affixed them to his collar, each one moving him one step further away from the safety of the role he'd become accustomed to, the role he knew he could do.

And then they were on.

They were small, tiny in fact, but there on his collar as if by magic, were four gleaming pips.

Four.

"Not so calm"

LtJG Chris Daniels

Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

Combat Information Center, Deck 7

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

Running.

Retreat.

Tactical Withdrawl.

Regrouping of forces beyond the battlefield.

Whatever sugarcoating military theorists over the years tried to put on it, the concept of leaving the battlefield because of defeat or impending defeat still meant one thing: you had lost.

This didn't sit well with the young human orchestrating the Combat Information Center at the present moment. He had never been good at the whole losing thing, and this one stung even moreso.

Statistically, they had done pretty well, being outnumbered and outgunned. But the fact remained, the Federation and Romulans had still gotten whipped pretty bad. He wasn't good at hiding his displeasure with getting beaten, and it currently manifested itself as he stood with his arms crossed in front of the master holo-table, his mouth in a contorted frown and his eyes were narrow slits.

Later, they would figure out what they could from this. The bright side was that the sensors recorded every Hydran shot, every hit, and every amount of measurable data on their weapons possible. They had been surprised once, it wouldn't happen a second time.

Then there was the matter of the Captain. That had served to somber the mood of the crew significantly. He trusted Commander Jaxom to lead the ship, but still, losing a Captain was never something that inspired hope amongst the masses.

Quietly, he made his rounds to the various stations, checking how they were doing. All were taking care of the priorities, which were to fix the systems, prepare for round two, and keep watch on the situation on the planet. The third priority was the hardest, as K'aa collision, coupled with one of the hits from the Hydrans, had disabled two of the sensor control stations.

In another 4 hours or so, they could actually do what they were tasked to.

One of the less pleasant parts of his walkaround was checking on the wounded. Sickbay had sent a small triage team to fix up those who didn't require surgery. Those who did were medevaced to Sickbay. The three unfortunate souls who were beyond saving were placed in the Analysis Center beyond the main CIC to live out their remaining minutes. All in all 22 of the 58 CIC crew during the battle had sustained injuries; 3 were KIA, 7 were critical, and the rest were all being fixed/already healed in the CIC. When he passed them, he did his best to keep their spirits up, and then kept going.

Maybe this was why someone had once advised him not to get close to your co-workers. At this point he was mad. 3 of his kids, countless others, and his frickin' CAPTAIN were all dead, and he wanted to shove every last torpedo they had up a Hydran's ass and detonate them one by one. Not to mention all the wounded. It sickened him at the same time. So many of them had come close to dying...again...and for what? So the Hydrans could pound their chest about taking a planet? It totally confounded him. Of all the things worth fighting for--hadn't most of the races in the quadrant gotten past that? The last few wars had been different--the Borg and Dominion had been from another quadrant, ones that apparently did not believe the same way the Alpha Quadrant did.

So why had the Hydrans--for the second time in a few years--become so aggressive?

Finally, with his mental rant over, he was able to take care of himself. Slipping back to his cubicle for a moment, he shot out a quick message to Janeen: "Let me know if you're ok..." and then something similar to his sister. It was the best he could manage, as he needed to get back out there. He owed the Lieutenant some semblance of a status report soon, and he had people to take care of. Plus, he needed to get cracking on the analysis of their weapons systems.

Something in his gut told him they didn't have an inordinate amount of time to prepare for the next battle.

"Salvage"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science - USS Miranda

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

A mental hospital, somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

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

The replicators were failing constantly. With the watermain broken, the demand placed upon the old units caused their power to drain quickly. The influx of refugees had ceased, fortunately, but the extra three dozen mouths to feed had taken their toll.

Era had been working with two orderlies and a refugee who all had nominal skills in engineering. For all the hours they poured in to the system, however, they were fighting a losing battle with no new parts to aid their job.

One of the orderlies let out a stream of words. Whether said too quickly to be picked up by the UT or whether the patient issued UTs were designed to censor particular phrases didn't matter. Era understood cursing when she heard it. "What is it?" she asked, coming round to his side. In response he merely gestured at the brown goo that was supposed to be potable water.

That was when Era decided to take matters into her own hands.

**********

It had taken longer than she would have liked to get a work crew together. She had hoped, and more than a little expected, to get help from the refugees. Instead, she'd been taunted, Romulan pride refusing to be led by a former mental patient, and an outsider to boot.

Dusk tinged the sky and progressed relentlessly toward night as the Kaelian led her team - a mix of orderlies, nurses, and a few patients

- out into the rubble-strewn street. A resourceful orderly had uncovered the architectural designs in the basement, the blueprints pointing them in the right direction. Once in the vicinity, the pools of muddy water gave away the site of the break. They couldn't hope to do more than a patch job, but the leak was small enough to permit them at least the attempt.

Era, de facto leader and foreman, set the patients on the task of clearing debris to permit a work zone. The others began a rudimentary salvage operation until the patients were done.

Back inside the hospital, the idea had seemed simple enough. Now that the project was underway, Era realized she'd underestimated civic works engineers her entire life. Nevertheless, the situation was bad enough that she could not abandon the effort.

That decision was taken from her.

A Hydran unit had espied the lights and sounds coming from Era's team.

The hospital had been left alone after the first attack, giving it a sense of sanctuary that the repairmen had carried with them. Hydran activity in the neighborhood had noticably declined, furthering the false sense of security.

The Hydrans approached swiftly, confident by now in their domination of the city. Pempa saw them first and let out a loud yell, dropping the salvage she'd been collecting.

Everything happened very quickly.

The three other patients panicked, each running a different direction, though thankfully none toward the Hydrans.

The Hydran response was to fire a warning shot which had the effect of herding the patients back together.

The nurses abandoned the watermain to get the patients inside.

The orderlies bolted inside.

Era crouched behind a mound of debris beside the pipe and prayed for a phaser to drop from the sky.

The Hydran party split, one going to deal with Era and the others pursuing the fast retreating repair crew.

Era didn't dare move as the Hydran approached, her stomach churning in fear while her mind couldn't help being fascinated by the strange alien. As small as she tried to make herself, at 6'1 there was only so much she could do. The rubble skittered beneath the advancing feet of the Hydran. Beside her, the watermain continued to hiss and gurgle, the patch job abandoned mid-way, tools dropped or left in the aperture.

The Hydran came before Era and stared down at her along the barrel of his weapon. Era stared up at him, her eyes watering in fright and the difficulty of trying to look at three eyes at once. Neither looked at the watermain. Neither saw the spanner tremble as the pressure increased. Neither saw the tool break free under a jet of water. But Era did see it hit the Hydran's methane mask and break the central line. The Hydran stumbled from both shock and the hard stream of water. On the ground, Era was spared the brunt of the blast. The Hydran fell. Era didn't risk getting up until all his limbs stopped twitching. She didn't move until she saw the other Hydrans leave the hospital - no captives in hand.

Once she was sure the coast was clear, Era began dragging the dead Hydran back to the hospital, intent to learn how his body worked and to learn how the hospital had escaped punishment.

Nikki/Rayna Lamar

Miranda.........

Nikki walked in and noticed that someone was sitting on the floor with Miles and Gillian, playing. Nikki set her stuff on the table and stood there with her arms folded.

"You must be Nikki." The woman stood up and walked over to her, "I'm Ensign Badostain."

"And?" Nikki was rude.

The Ensign didn't let it bother her, "And...I will be staying with you for awhile." She moved over to the couch, "Come sit down Nikki. I need to talk to you."

Nikki sat down. The butterflies in Nikki's stomach was starting to take flight. She knew that this was about her mother. The first thought that came to her mind was that Rayna had died and now they were to be parentless.

Meanwhile, Ensign Badostain was thinking how tragic this all might turn out. She never did believe that children should be allowed on a Starship of any kind. But ten again, it wasn't her place to say anything either. She took a breath and began to speak.....

"Nikki, your mother is missing on Romulas. Until they find her, I will be staying here. You can call me Kandace."

"They will find her. I know they will."

"I'm sure they will. Oh, in case you are wondering why I'm staying here, your nanny got hurt on the ship and is off any kind of active duty. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

Nikki corrected her, "They are stuck with you. I have things to do and that requires me to come and go when I need to."

Kandace chuckled under her breath, "We'll see."

Romulas, time unknown...............

Rayna spied the Hydran and was about to shoot him when she was pushed to the ground. Darkness enveloped her. She heard disruptor fire and then nothingness. It would be a while before she'd wake up.

"The War Prayer"

by

Ensign Marcus Slayton

Engineer, USS Exeter

Catalen Morka

Civilian Technican, USS Galaxy

-ONPC

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

Location: Deck 15, Emergency Power Systems and Phaser Control

"Yesh, what a mess" said the male trill as he stepped over what was the guts of the central power distrubation controls and he gently kicked the boots that were connected to the body inside the general controls. "Yo Marc, got a message from your messus." Catalen said to the owner of the boots.

"Really, what?" Marcus asked as he pulled himself out of the panel only to have a replicator ration pack fall directly onto his chest .

"She wants to make sure that you don't miss a meal." Catalen said with a smirk as he watched the terran pick up the ration pack from his chest as he put the two thermo-mugs onto the consol proper as Slayton pulled himself up to his feet. "So, how's the repairs going along?" he asked.

Marcus didn't say anything but he simply reached over and inputed a series of commands into the console and a few seconds later a diganostic came up showing that the phasers were back online fully. At which point Marcus activated his comm badge. "Lieutenant Barrett, this is Slayton. I'd like to announce that phasers are now back up and running. All the system needed was the primary buffer controls rerouted to the secondary buffers. Torpedos on the other hand, well need to get replinshed on those. I'm going to grab some food and then head for the main bridge." he said.

=^=Understood and good work, Mister Slayton. Try and get some sleep before you tackle anything else major. Barrett out=^= came the reply of the Exeter's chief engineer.

Marcus sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the console and accepted a thermo-mug from the trill before he opened his ration packet. "So how bad are the relays from the sections where life support has gone out to the main leads?"

Catalen stopped chewing on what he hoped was a piece of what he thought was chicken as he pulled a padd out of his pocket and looked through his notes. "From what I can gather, life support on decks eight through tweleve can be restored within the next three hours if the EPS relays are bypassed or replaced. However life support on deck eighteen needs to be vented before we can even think about restoring it there, Marcus." Catalen said before putting the padd down on the console.

Marcus' eyes looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Eighteen, that's where the aft torpedo launcher is." he said in a matter of fact voice and then went back to eating.

"Hrm, how'd you know that without looking at a readout?"

"Simple, my dad used to command and Ambassador class. The Missouri, which is the ship that I blame for getting me into starfleet." Marcus said with a shake of his head.

Catalen could only nod as the two men continued to eat and after that, it was off to the bridge.

"Much better"

[on planet]

Man'darr

Branwen

Branwen staggered outside and took a couple of deep breaths. She needed to get away even if it was for a few minutes. The young marine felt the need to curse. She was not exactly happy with the Colonel leaving her in this position. Branwen knew well enough that she did not possessed the skills to run a temporary hospital, and even worse treat severely wounded people. Too many had died under her hands this afternoon, probably because she didn't know what she was doing. But there was nobody else, so doing nothing was not an option.

Man'darr noticed a familiar person emerging from a nearby tunnel that led to the make-shift infirmary as he cleaned the carbon filter in his pulse rifle.

He smiled up at Branwen. "Hello, Branwen. It is good to see you."

She didn't say anything, just walked towards him and put her arms around him. Holding somebody important to her gave h er the strength she needed so badly.

"What is wrong?" Man'darr asked. Being raised in Capellan Customs, Man'darr never understood why those who chose to fight, such as Starfleet Marines would be bothered by war. Man'darr had actually been enjoying the fight thus far. Fighting was something he was bred to do, it was genetic.

"So many are dying. And I don't know how to help them, I don't have the skills and I don't have the equipment." She clung to him. "Sweetheart I'm used to death, but to see people die like this, it's intolerable."

"I see" Man'darr was quiet for a moment, placing a consolidtory hand on Branwen. "You are doing the best you can. If it is a person's time to go to the afterlife beyond, then that is their destiny and nothing anyone can do will prevent that. Besides, you are a Marine, not a doctor."

"Tell that to my boss. He thought I would be the perfect person to run the hospital because I'm a psychologist. Go figure. And the thing is, a lot of these people might be saved with the right equipment. I am not sure it is their time, and that is bloody frustrating!"

"I believe you are putting too much thought into this...you didn't have the right equipment, you've done everything you could, and if they did pass away, then that was their fate. It is not your fault," he replied, holding her close.

She leaned her head against his chest. "I wish I could see things as simply as you can. It would make my life a great deal easier. I keep second-guessing myself."

"I see them simply because I was raised and trained for combat...its in my blood. You just have to learn to trust your instincts and that often the first choice that comes to mind is the correct one," he replied as he ran his hand through her hair and kissed her on her forhead.

She held onto him a little longer. "We wish I could keep you with me right now."

"I am always around, Branwen. Since I've just returned from a patrol, I can stay with you awhile until I am scheduled to go on another patrol."

"Awww sweetheart thank you." Bran hugged him. "I am so glad I have you." For the first time in her life she didn't feel so totally alone in the world.

"I am happy you are with me as well." Man'darr broke open a nearby field ration. "You should eat."

Dutifull she took a bite from the bar in his hand without letting go. "Hmmm not that bad," she said while eating.

Man'darr watched Branwen for a moment, impressed that she could deal with performing a job that she was not assigned to do and to perform it so diligently at that. He enjoyed the warmth from Bran's body as she laid against him. He would not llet any harm come to her here as long as he was alive. He silently wondered about the Fleet. Had it been destroyed, or had they retreated successfully. Retreat...just the thought of that word disgusted him.

Bran snuggled closer. "How long do you think it will take before they come and rescue us?" She asked him.

"I do not know. The last I heard, the fleet was retreating...however if they made it or not, I am not certain. But I will not allow anything to happen to you," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

She gigled. "Remember I am the marine, I should be protecting you, silly.

But I do feel safe with you." Bran gave him a quick kiss.

Man'darr returned the kiss. "Sometimes even beautiful Marines need protecting," he countered with a grin.

"Definitely." Her heart was getting lighter by the minute. "This marine definitely needs protecting and a lot of cuddling." She assured him.

"So the tough Marine is a softy after all," he joked, brushing a strand of hair out of Bran's face and kissing her gently.

"Only with you. And you are not allowed to tell anyone." She kissed him back.

"The Militia"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete

Assistant Chief of Science - USS Miranda

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

A mental hospital, somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

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

In the enclosed courtyard, Erastus stood at the far side of the open space, feeling a little nervous. She was not a soldier. Yes, she'd had the regular training at the Academy. She could handle a phaser, and knew basic hand-to-hand - but only just. Now, she stood in front of an assembly of mental patients, a militia-in-training. And she was going to trian them.

Nervous didn't begin to describe it.

The patients were milling about for the moment, aimless without express directions. Privately, Era was surprised so many had actually shown up. Though she wasn't sure if she could do this, she knew that they had to, as a whole. So she cleared her throat and stepped forward to draw their attention. "Line up!"

They did so, of course rather than in typical military fashion, with the broad side of the formation facing the observer, they did according to the method they'd learned in the hospital, one behind the other rather haphazardly.

Era saw her first challenge. "Lengthwise!" She sighed and moved to the front group. "Spread out in a line from that wall," she pointed, "to that one. I want everyone to spread their arms out so you have room to move and not bump into anyone, okay?"

The group listened... somewhat. A few decided they'd have no part in it and just started up, crying or shouting or even playing. Others didn't quite understand where lunch was, that was why they got lined up after all.

"My dear madame..." the Romulan Napoleon smiled, having popped up behind her. "It seems your troops have discipline issues."

Era regarded the 24th century Bonaparte carefully. "Perhaps you could lend your expertise to the matter?" Who better than a general to speak to troops? Who better than a crazy man to speak to other mental patients?

Napulan Romuparte 'rode' his invisible horse up to the mess of a formation Era had tried to construct. He spoke in perfect French, ironically. "Hear me, good citizens of France! The sounds of war have reached our door step! Do you not 'hear' the sound of fire? The thunder of explosions? The cries of your families and your loved ones over blood spilled and battles lost?! We have been tasked with a glorious mission, to repel the invaders that have befallen the great empire! Focus on the task at hand, and do not cower! All your treasures, spiritual and physical, rest on the outcome of this historic battle! To arms!"

Nobody moved... one guy hit himself in the head and fell down.

Era winced as the man fell. Hurrying over, she gently helped him back to his feet. "Easy there, Detritus. You don't need to salute." Once the large, clumsy man was steady, she returned to Napoleon's side. "I believe what our 'general' is trying to say is that what we're doing won't be easy, but we need to do it. How many of you have heard the fighting at night? Raise your hands."

A few hands went up, the more cogent ones doing so rather uneasily, as they were begining to realize where this was going.

Inside, Tirlen was busily working at changing the bedding, just a few cells away from a window with the full view of what was going on.

"I want the swing!" A less 'collected' individual practically screamed at Era, beaming a bright, affable smile afterwards.

Era shook her head. "After we've done some work, then you can go on the swing, okay?" She turned her attention to those who were quicker on the uptake. "You've heard it outside. It's getting nearer every night, isn't it? We don't want that. So we have to stop it. That's what we're going to do. We 'can' do it! But we have to train. Now."

She ran a hand through her hair and pulled over a duffel bag from where it had been sitting against the wall. Inside were all the flashlights she could find. A poor substitute for phasers and rifles, but at least they could begin to learn to aim, and have a heavy object in their hands for more personal confrontations. The flashlights were all industrial weight and length, after all, and she couldn't waste the replicators' limited power reserves on manufacturing fake phasers.

"I'm going to pass out a flashlight to everyone, then we're going to start. Everyone stay in line. You'll all get one."

They took the flashlights, a few getting kicks and giggles out of shining each other in the eyes, one of them was driven to the point of smacking straight into the wall.

"No, no, no!" The Romulan Napoleon shouted, getting off his high 'horse' and walking over to one of the 'soldiers', setting the flashlight in his hands. "This is your weapon! It is your life line!

Now, repeat with me... This is my rifle, this is my gun!"

Clearly, the Romulan understanding of ancient Terra was lacking.

Tir'len heard the shouting, and ran to the window to investigate. By now they were marching, in step, shouting things that were... Russian in origin? "By the Elements..."

"Doctor?" One of the 'spacier' nurses asked, looking around. "Where are all the patients?"

"She took my crazies and made a militia!" He yelled, running for the door.

Era couldn't help humming under her breath: "This is for shooting, this is for fun," but she kept it quiet, not ready to explain that element of life to her troops. She watched as the group began to march up and down the courtyard, more or less in formation. They had been convinced to simply hold their flashlights at their sides, ready for use but not yet to be used. She wore a self-congratulatory smile as Napoleon got the militia to execute a relatively flawless about-face, if one ignored the fact that rights and lefts were purely subjective directional markers for executing the turn.

"Just what in the 'hell' do you think you're doing?!" Tir'len, ripping his coat pocket clean off as it got stuck while he was running, finally came to a halt in front of Era. "You really 'must'

be psychotic!"

Era smiled pleasantly at her antagonist. "Not at all. I'm making them useful."

"With flashlights and marching drills?! You intend on doing 'what' with them?!"

"I intend on doing whatever we can to stop the advance of the Hydrans.

We were 'lucky' last night. We can't always be so lucky, so we better be ready."

"The defense of these people rest solely on making it obvious they're not threatening! Are you 'that' thick headed that you can't see what you're doing is harmful!" Tir'len shouted, so loud he didn't hear something he probably should have.

A loud battle cry from the 'mounted' leader. "Charge!"

Era grabbed Tir'len by the arm and pulled him back against the wall as a massive push of patients swarmed over where they had been.

One or two tripped, and were nearly trampled by the others.

"Damnit, you almost killed them!" Tir'len grabbed Era by her arms.

"Get them inside, now!"

"M. Bonaparte! Call a halt!" Era ordered her right-hand man. "Drill them on proper aim - against the far wall, not each other."

Her instructions given, she turned back to the doctor, frowning. "They have to learn. They'll be killed by the Hydrans otherwise." She spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard by any of the patients and thus alarming them.

"Learn 'what'?! To shine flashlights at them? To march 'forward' to slaughter? This whole damned thing is pointless! Get them inside or I swear...!"

Era tugged him out of the courtyard. "Stop yelling or you'll upset them. What happens if the Hydrans attack again? Do you really think they'll spare their lives? You're a fool if you do."

"And you're not a step above a murderer if you send them into a battle they can't possibly win! If you want to get yourself killed, that's one thing. These people don't 'know' any better! They don't realize they have a choice! You're taking advantage of them!" He threw her hands off of him.

"I'm giving them the chance to fight! I'm not 'sending' them anywhere.

But damnit when the Hydrans march through those doors, what choice are 'you' giving them?"

"The Hydrans have other things to worry about then a psychiatric hospital!" He balled his fists up, every ounce of reservation depleted. Elements knew she had this coming, probably for a long time. He went to throw a punch, inexpert as it was, illustrated by the fact his thumb was tucked under his fingers.

Era hadn't been expecting it, her gaze constantly darting between him and the drills continuing outside. Thus when his fist hit her jaw, it sent her reeling, the only reason she didn't fall being that he knocked her against the wall. The act left her dazed, an inexpert punch thrown by a Romulan still packing significant force behind it, and her hand rose slowly to her freshly bloodied lip.

"I'm through trying to protect you, but I will 'not' let you get these people killed!" Tir'len thundered, before storming off towards the formation. He was trying to force himself to calm down... the patients after all had little say in what happened.

Era's head finally cleared and she forced herself upright, trotting after him, her own anger rising to a boiling point. Before he'd gotten halfway across the gym, she'd set her hand on his shoulder to turn him around. "I never asked for your damned protection, but you can't leave these people helpless! At least let them try to save their home!"

"I'm not leaving them helpless! They were 'born', in most circumstances, helpless! I'm doing my best to assure that no more harm then necessary comes to them!" Damned thick headed... whatever the hell she was! "Now get inside! And put an end to all this!"

Seething, Era realized she wasn't going to win this fight, but that didn't mean she had to give up entirely. She could concede for now, but only for now. There was a war going on that didn't make nice distinctions about sane and insane, whether this Romulan doctor realized it or not. Turning from Tir'len, she joined Napoleon. "Good job, everyone. You can stop drilling now." Slowly, the flashlights winked off. "It's almost lunch time. We should all go to the dining hall." She glanced over at Tir'len with an expression that clearly read "there, happy?"

He simply glowered back, the anger dissipating into not just a little guilt, and a feeling of being powerless in the situation. They didn't even have their normal guards, let alone any other help... what 'if'

the Hydrans did decide to kill them all?

"Very good madame, an army marches on its stomach I always say." The Romulan Napoleon lead, in formation, the group back inside.

Era watched them go, her arms folded over her chest. Once they were out of sight and earshot, she returned her attention to Tir'len.

"Going to lock me up for this?"

"I should." He murmured, reaching into his one remaining pocket to fish out a regenerator. It was amazing the number of cuts and bruises the patients accumulated over a day, though granted she was the only one he'd ever injured. "Let me see that lip."

A little surprised at the reversal, Era approached and stood still for him. "Next time, don't tuck your thumb."

For some reason, that response earned a bit of a chuckle. Could have been some natural unwinding mechanism... whatever. "Yeah, that hurt, I just chalked it up to your hard head." He ran the device over the cut, healing it thoroughly in only a few passes.

Era cracked a smile at that. "Yours isn't too soft either."

"Forlorn Hope"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion

SFMC CO

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete

Assistant Chief of Science

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

A mental hospital, somewhere outside Ra'tleihfi, Romulus

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

He didn't know how many days had passed since the Hydran landing anymore... numbers like stardates becoming utterly pointless. Hell, even day and night hardly mattered anymore... the Colonel marked time by the number of ambushes and raids they'd made... and the interruptions inbetween the relentless attacks and counter-attacks allowed to catch an hour or, at truly lazy times, two of sleep.

This attack hadn't gone as planned. He probably should have seen it too... the curious lack of guards along the armored columns advance route made it a tempting target... one that ended up being too tempting.

They'd hit the column... and they'd hit it rather hard. More then a few engineers had survived the Hydran onslaught, enough to put together a credible sapper force. They'd left a dozen burning hulks behind them, as well as a number of softer supply vehicles. And had in turn been launched upon by what had to be a good company sized Hydran force.

He had to give them credit, they planned this one amazingly well.

Of the two teams he brought with him, 12 in all, 4 had been hit practically outright, and 2 were dead immediately. The rest had set up in a bombed out shell of a building, using the rubble as a fortification, and doing their best to hang on.

It was rather fitting anyway. For'kel was exhausted, physically and mentally, and a part of him was done with running. If he was trapped, he wasn't giving up this hill of dust, twisted metal, and whatever the hell Romulans used in place of transparent aluminum.

The half torn apart window frame made the perfect gun pit, and with no place to go, he wasn't giving it up. Not no way, not no how... even as the Hydrans got closer... as his phaser's energy cell finally gave out... even as the Hydran bodies began falling atop of the makeshift position. He didn't have a pair of revolvers, nor any specialized all black and gold inlaid hyper-phaser. Just the standard issue rifle, and type II.

And when they were out, a Hydran rifle.

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

Era had been wrestling with the communications system all day. Tir'len hadn't relented regarding the training of the patients and the refugees refused to see her as a leader. Not that either of those things had exactly stopped her. She'd made significant progress on the autopsy. It had been tough, not to say juicy, going. She wasn't trained as a biologist of any sort, but she knew the basic principles around circulation and resperation that, combined with an examination of the type of body armor the Hydrans favoured and the masks they wore, led her to determine which bits were vital organs and which, well, weren't. From that, she'd been able to extrapolate the best places to strike a Hydran for a debilitating, if not fatal, blow. She hoped; not that she'd had the chance to test it out or anything.

Yet knowledge was power, as they say, and so Era had been quick to get the word round to her "troops" that 'if' they came up against a Hydran, then they should aim their clubs (their flashlights, for the most part) at three prime zones.

The Hydrans sure did love the number three.

An electric crackle broke Era's train of thought, reminding her that she was not about to launch a sortie but was trying to fix the grid. A burst of static soon followed when she reconnected a wire. Focused intently now, Era began a painstaking process of trying to hold onto that staticky signal and strengthen it. A voice filtered through. Then another in reply. There was too much interference for her to know just what was being said however.

Biting her lip, she exchanged a damaged chip for a more intact one she'd lifted from an exhausted replicator unit.

The words were suddenly much clearer.

Era didn't wait to hear more beyond the first burst. She only had incoming right now, and she knew her range was limited. That meant they were close. And the 'they' in question were Starfleet personnel.

Marines, if she was any judge by the interspersal of jargon that they used.

That didn't matter. What did was there was a group of people out there

- her people - about to be massacred by Hydrans. And they were right in her backyard.

Racing from the office, Era dashed down one hallway, then another, searching for one man and one man only. At last she found him in the common room of Ward D. "General!" she panted, screeching to a halt.

"Ready the men!" The words spilled from her lips without her having to think about tailoring them for the Romulan Napoleon's mentality.

Perhaps the delusions were contagious.

"Of course, madame!" Napromulan replied with an almost joyous glee.

"To your feet soldiers of the Empire, and onward to victory!"

The group of volunteers... loosely called volunteers... did exactly as trained, grabbing their clubs and flash lights.

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

"Cougar's hit!" For'kel heard Dana exclaim over the commbadge.

Normally that would have hit him like a speeding shuttle, but right now For'kel was more than adequately busy with the Hydrans trying to force their way through the front door. It seemed that after the onslaught early on, a mass charge that was rather roughly handled, the Hydrans settled into a more tactically sound position. A single platoon now tried pushing into the Marines' position while the remaining two poured suppressive fire into the building. It was practically impossible to do anything.

Eventually For'kel's Hydran rifle seemed to burn out, and it did so at an extroadinarily bad time. No less than five Hydrans were charging, three of which were laid low by the Marine to For'kel's left before that Betazoid was butchered himself. The fourth fell to a shot from the upstairs hold, but the one still managed to come in.

As per training For'kel charged the rifle bearing man, using the door frame to restict his movement, and taking the Hydran to the ground.

The rifle kicked away, the Stagnorian found himself reaching for something, anything, to use as a weapon.

Hard... stiff, perfect!

Without looking he grabbed hold of what his hand found, and began beating the Hydran. At some point the Hydran's suit started leaking, there was gasping as his movements began dying, much like the Hydran himself.

For'kel only then managed to get a clean look at the tool he'd used to beat a man to death...

A severed Hydran arm from one of his comrades.

For'kel shunted the ghastly image for now, tossing the arm away and picking up the newly available rifle.

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

Era led her Forlorn Hope out of the hospital. A group in the back had taken up a chorus of "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to death I go," and Era hastily shushed them. Stealth certainly wasn't going to be a strong point for her little campaign, but at the very least they could aim for surprise.

Once out in the yard, it wasn't difficult to locate their target. From a hollowed out shell of a building not 200 yards away came the distinctive whine of energy weapons - the only ones in the vicinity.

Drawing her group to a halt, Era turned to face them. "Okay, this is how it goes. We're going to quick-march, just like we practiced. And when I hold up my hand like so," she demonstrated, raising her hand with a closed fist, "we will all stop and be quiet. Like little mice, we don't want to be heard. When I drop my hand," again she demonstrated, "we attack the three-armed guys. Only the three-armed guys. Any questions?"

The patients shuffled their feet but no one said anything. Most looked nervous. A few appeared eager. One was chewing on his flashlight.

"Move out."

The Forlorn Hope advanced, trotting down the lane. The light was beginning to fade, but it was by no means dark enough to hide their approach if any of the Hydrans turned around. Era prayed they wouldn't turn around.

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

It went on for another good fifteen to twenty minutes in a very similar fashion. They would send squads forward, said squads would get butchered. They'd target where the phaser flashes had come from and fire in a large volley. Inevitably, another Marine was downed, typically by grazes or shrapnel than direct hits, and the cycle would repeat.

For'kel had to wipe his weary eyes. Were those reinforcements coming up behind the Hydrans? No... they only had two arms each... but the Hydrans didn't seem to notice.

Well maybe they could help them out in a way At least keep the Hydrans occupied. "Don't stop firing!"

Era raised her fist and the troop stumbled to a halt behind her. Quite a few were panting, unaccoustomed to jogging even such a short distance. Slowly now, they crept forward, Era careful to keep her hand raised so as not to accidentally unleash them too soon. The Hydrans appeared to be well occupied with whomever they had trapped. Not a single one seemed to have noticed the danger to their rear.

So much the better.

Gripping hard her own cudgel, Era swung her fist down. The Forlorn Hope charged.

At first they were silent, but then the exhilliration pumping through their veins got to them and screams and cries leapt from their throats as they swarmed upon the first Hydrans they came across.

For her part, Era ran fast and hard at the Hydran that appeared to be giving orders. It was a horrendously stupid move; she couldn't hope to best him in single combat and he was bound to have a superior weapon, but she didn't care. Before she could reach him, however, one of his aides turned and stepped into her path. With a cry borne of effort and anger, Era struck down hard with her flashlight.

The stunned Hydrans, who had already launched another cycle of attacks (that were again driven back), certainly hadn't expected to themselves be attacked, let alone from the rear. The swarm of mental patients, many of them rather bulky and driven by dementia, managed to take a good chunk out of the Hydrans' left flank. With so much vulnerable equipment, especially the methane breathing aparatus' being torn at, it was only understandable that the audacity of the attack caught the Hydrans completely by surprise. After all, the Romulan military was 'officially' defeated, and there didn't seem to be any pockets of resistance in the area.

Naturally, For'kel had to take advantage of the situation. "Private, Corporal, follow me!" Jumping out of the window frame, the Stagnorian made a charge of his own towards the Hydran lines, supported by the shooters left in the building, and started spraying the plasma pulse rifle he now held into the heavy concentration of Hydrans.

Having not expected a counter-attack at all, the Hydrans broke and ran after moments of rather bitter fighting. Even in retreat, however, they were still fired upon.

"I don't know where you guys are from, but thank the Prophets you're he..." For'kel stopped, staring in disbelief. "Era?"

Era pushed aside her blonde hair, now stained red from her own blood, and looked at her interlocuter. "For'kel?" she breathed in disbelief.

She felt disoriented, and more than a little sick to her stomach. She looked around at the field of battle. Five of her men were on the ground. Four of them seemed to be moving, though. The fifth.. there was no doubt he would never rise again.

For'kel wrapped his arms around her as if she were the incarnation of life itself. His shoulder, the recent battle, the tiredness didn't seem to matter for the moment. "Prophets I'm glad to see you. What the hell are you doing 'here'?"

Era sank into that embrace, her eyes closing as finally she found something familiar to hold onto. "It's a long story. I caught wind of your distress on the radio, came as soon as I heard. Didn't know it was you."

"Who are they?" Was the next logical question, the Marine nodding toward the assembled group... one of whom was 'eating' a Hydran.

Era turned and sighed when she saw Detritus' current entree.

"Detritus, stop. There's pudding back home. They're mental patients,"

she answered her friend, unaware of such things as HIPAA or the Romulan equivalent. "I need to get them back. You should come too.

There's a hospital just down the road."

"Mental... patients?" Now that just didn't roll off the tongue well.

"We have an aid station set up and... oh damnit!" The thought of an aid station reminded him that Cougar had been hit. "Can they get back on their own?"

Era went over to one of the patients who was still on the ground.

"General, take the men back." When she was sure he understood, that he wouldn't try to chase down the Hydrans on his own, Era came back to Fork's side. "They'll manage."

"All right, come on." For'kel took her hand, and then took off running back to the wrecked building. There was a case of stone stairs that lead up to the second floor. There, on a pair of crates laid an ungodly pale Cougar Johnson, being catered to by a Dana Collins who'd clearly seen better days. The man was shaking, rather violently. It was obvious that he wasn't going to make it.

Losing Marines was bad enough. People you trusted with your life, who you were responsible for... but Cougar also had the distinction of being a very close friend, and a leader in every sense of the word.

They'd been through, as was once said, life, death, and life together.

And now For'kel was left holding his increasingly cold hand, and watching him fade from life into the beyond. It wasn't the same...

personally... to lose him as it was to lose the others. The officer cadre of the Battalion had been what held it together... he was definitely one of the better ones.

Era didn't quite know what to do with herself. Clearly the man's death upset For'kel, and just as clearly she couldn't do anything about it - even if she'd had any form of medical training. So she hung back, waiting until the right moment to speak up. When it became increasingly clear that there was no right moment, she stepped over to For'kel's side and placed a hand gingerly on his arm. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." For'kel murmured, intent on not making too much of a show of things.

"I'll uhh... I'll take care of the bodies." Dana whispered, already considering how best to move them back to the CCP.

And to think... they 'still' had to get through tommorrow.

"Dirty Work"

Lieutenant Savant, Fleet Logistics Officer

Savant settled back with a smile as the fleet disengaged and she withdrew her efforts from the fleet - she still watched but released her

control layer. The program was pleased. While the battle hadn't gone very well the Federation was still very much in the game, and had collected reams of valuable data about the star beast and the Hydran fleet. Without thinking, Savant harnessed the computing power she could and set it to work in dissecting that information into bite-sized pieces. Even if she wasn't a science officer, she could certainly aid the Science department in making their work faster and more efficient.

What was a quartermaster for but to improve efficiency?

The android picked its jacket back up as it stood; the pinwheel of alloy and polymer antennae folded tidily back into her back, which sealed to appear as if there were no opening to begin with. She maintained a connection with the rest of the fleet however - the android was just a puppet. It was strange - Savant had figured it would take her longer before she spread out, but given the circumstances this seemed the right idea. The fact that she enjoyed it immensely was only icing on the cake.

She threw her jacket over her shoulder and headed out of the office, but paused at the threshold.

Something seemed off, something wasn't right. Savant couldn't quite place it. She frowned and stood in the open door, her eyes narrowed, while she searched the fleets' databases for anything unusual. It was as if someone was thinking of her, or trying to avoid her - it was as if her ears were burning because she was mentioned in another room.

Savant shrugged the feeling aside and turned to walk down the hall. If it was important, she would have gotten a hit. It wasn't the first time she's felt as if someone was watching her, after all.

"Stilling the Waters"

(Brevet) Cpt. Brian Elessidil

Commanding Officer

USS Exeter

Lt. Miramon Terrik

Counselor

USS Galaxy

"Chief, we're going to be making a few more trips to pick up equipment and personnel from several other ships in the fleet. Please make sure the El Cadiz remains serviced and in good condition."

Turning from the shuttle bay flight deck chief who with the obligatory "Aye, Sir" trotted off on his way, Brian signed yet another PADD as it was thrust in front of him. Then he watched as the Exeter's shuttle dispatched to retrieve Counselor Terrik from the Galaxy returned.

Although it would mean yet another person in the crew to be responsible for, there was something comforting about the prospect of seeing a familiar face again, even under the circumstances. Maybe especially under the circumstances.

The ride over from the Galaxy was as expected - brisk and to the point, although the Bajoran serving as a passenger aboard the craft personally suspected that someone had the inertial dampeners pushed up to maximum, because he could barely feel even an ounce of motion from the craft, beyond the hum of the engines. Such a thing was irritating to him, since he always preferred to get a feel for the craft he was one. But, still, he wasn't piloting the shuttle, so his preferences were irrelevant.

The craft passed through the magnetic forcefield that separated the shuttlebay from the cold vacuum of space beyond it, quickly touching down on the flight deck. Barely waiting for the engines to deactivate, the Bajoran walked over to the sealed hatchway that lay to the rear of the shuttle and hit the control panel that would lower the boarding ramp. As it finished, he stepped out from the innards of the shuttle, his haste apparent in the quick strides he took in order to do so.

Looking around the shuttlebay, he glanced around, looking to see if anybody was going to be there to meet him, his blue eyes quickly locking on to the 'captain' of the vessel - the Assistant Chief Counselling Officer, as Miramon knew him. Nodded to himself, the Bajoran headed in the man's direction, stopping as soon as he was close enough to Elessidil without violating any personal zone of proximity he might have maintained.

"Reporting as ordered, Captain," he said, his voice carrying some of his amusement within the typically relaxed tones.

The form and formality of address were still not something Brian was used to, even if it was delivered with some light-heartedness. For the first time in awhile, he smiled a little. "Sorry we couldn't beam you over. We can't risk the strain on our secondary power relays right now and I didn't want the Galaxy to just plop you down somewhere on the ship. Heh...regardless, I'm glad Karyn let you go for awhile."

"Well, I always preferred flying anyway, sir. And Commander Dallas has enough on her plate without having me underfoot. Better, then, that she fosters my services upon you than have to put up with them herself. The benefits of command, I suppose. Although," the Counsellor noted with what would almost be described as a smirk, "technically you outrank her now. How does it feel?"

"It feels like someone dropped a sack of rocks and iron bars on my back," Elessidil answered honestly, though with a bit of a smirk.

"I'll manage." With a slight tilt of his head, he motioned for the Bajoran to follow him as he walked to the shuttle bay door and to the corridor beyond. "What I'm mostly concerned about is the crew, Miramon. The unexpectedly negative turn of the battle, and most of all losing Captain Vogler, has been very difficult for a lot of them.

That's why I could really use your help."

"See, and I just thought you'd miss my sense of humour," Miramon said, slight laughter in his voice. "Seriously, though, I'm here to help.

The crew, from what I was told, is mostly constituted by kids fresh out of the Academy, with a few lieutenants in the mix. Obviously they've been put into a situation most of them have never had to deal with. But, in all honesty, sir, they're gonna be looking to you more than anyone else aboard ship. You've got to show them that even with their Captain gone, you're in charge and will do what's best for the crew and the ship."

The Bajoran fell silent for a moment as the two of them continued walking down the corridor. Honestly, he wasn't sure where they were going, although his first assignment had been an Ambassador-Class starship, so he was familiar with the ship layout. That was the easy part. But he'd been assigned to such a ship from the Academy himself, so finding himself back aboard such a craft with a crew full of Ensigns was irony that was somewhat amusing to him.

"All stuff I've been telling myself," Brian responded, perhaps a little wearily. "I know what my role is and I'm doing everything I can to show that. Oh, and we're going to sickbay," he added, sensing Miramon's uncertainty about their destination. "I think that's where some of the biggest morale challenges are concentrated right now."

"I don't need a physical, Captain. I feel pretty fit, and I know I'm eating right. Maybe the sudden shock of being dropped into the big chair is making you feel dizzy?" Of course Miramon was joking, but it was his job to lighten the mood, and the Lt.Cmdr, Assistant Chief of Counselling aboard the Galaxy had just been thrown into a rather precarious position - captain of a ship full of inexperienced officers. "Seriously, though, I didn't get a briefing on the condition of the ship or the crew. Commander Dallas told me to come on over and work under your command, since this bucket of bolts has no other qualified counsellors other than her current CO."

"And there's the first part of the briefing: we have no counselors.

The crew was rather anxious from the start. Captain Vogler's concern was how it would affect them in battle, and to her pleasant surprise they performed admirably. But I think a big part of that reason was Vogler herself. She wasn't a large woman physically, but she had a presence of personality that was pretty unignorable, and if nothing else, it was a source of confidence for everyone who served under her command.

Now with her gone, they've lost that foundation and are having to figure out how to control their own anxieties about this assignment without it. I'm now a big part of that equation and I've been taking what steps I can to be something they can re-build some of that confidence on. When I arrived here to be Captain Vogler's counselor, she and I agreed that one of the first places to start in assessing the crew's overall status was with some of the lower-ranking leader types. That might still be a useful point of departure for you, but I'll leave it up to you to decide how you want to approach this."

Miramon nodded in appreciation of that. It was, realistically, as much a test for him as it was for his CO - between the two of them, they were the only qualified counsellors aboard, and one of them was inevitably going to be engaged with command decisions, thus leaving the Bajoran to cover the Counselling aspect of things.

"First off, I should probably talk to your First Officer. He or she is going to be the one interacting with the crew, conveying and interpreting your orders as per the job description. It'll be vital to ensure that you two build up a trusting relationship and for me to make sure that whoever it is can handle answering to someone they don't yet know and, moreover, whether they can do so in the shadow of having lost a significant part of the ship's natural command structure. After that, we should have a talk with the senior officers and see what we can do to boost morale around all of the departments."

"Something else I've been telling myself," Brian agreed. He looked up into the air as if resigning himself that he would have to face something he'd rather avoid as his thoughts shifted back to the topic of first officer. "I appointed Lieutenant Mullen as Acting First Officer," he finally said, almost sounding like he wished he hadn't.

"Aside from being one of the most influential officers with the crew, he's also the most experienced. But he hasn't been happy about my presence since I arrived, and I know my being promoted to Captain isn't helping any."

"Speaking counsellor to counsellor for a moment, Brian, what's your take on that? We both know that you can't have an executive officer disinclined to support you on principle. Is it just shock over the loss of his command officer, or is his problem with you, personally?"

"No, this started even before Captain Vogler died. Basically, he considers me a threat, an outsider in his territory. Unfortunately, I really don't have the luxury of assigning a more compatible first officer. He has more experience than anyone else aboard after me, and he is well-known and liked by the crew, and those are both very important right now."

"Well, I'll have a talk with him, see if I can't get him to refocus a little. Fact of the matter is that he may not like it, but you're here and you're his commanding officer. Either he can put aside his issues with you for the good of the crew, or it's possible he's going to do something to jeopardise the ship and one of us is going to relieve him of duty. He might not trust you, he may never like you, but he does have to respect your orders."

"You and I are in complete agreement on that, Miramon," Elessidil said as the two men stopped at the doors to sickbay. "But I want you to be very careful about how you handle him," he instructed, lowering his voice a little and sounding both like a CO and senior counselor. "I can't afford to have the situation become any more tense than it has to be between Mullen and me."

A grin appeared on the Bajoran's previously serious expression, his amusement reflected as much in his eyes as by his smile. "I was flying ships long before I was a Starfleet Officer, Brian. And when we were running freight, we'd be stuck aboard a ship for weeks at a time without seeing another soul other than the ones aboard ship. Arguments and problems like this had to be solved quickly, otherwise everyone would be miserable. The same applies here. I can handle the Lieutenant. Besides," the smile widened now, "if he doesn't like what I have to say, then it'll be me he's annoyed at, not you. But I've got it covered. Don't worry."

Despite Terrik's assurances, Brian did worry a little. He had enough confidence in the other man's ability for the most part, but he knew even counselors were fallible. The past didn't always predict the future and he hoped this wouldn't be the time for Miramon to learn that the hard way.

"Turn Me On"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

*****Main Engineering, USS Galaxy*****

The console beeped obsessively as Nara growled trying to get the pressure stabalized. She turned slightly as she heard someone call for her. It was a young Vulcan. Or not. It was hard to tell. He was only an Ensign. He continued giving a short report about a rupture when it hit her. She glanced around quickly as she listened to him.

Her rung was being stepped on. Ella and Dhanista were gone and in the current set of Engineers in Main Engineering, she was in charge. She told him some instruction she was sure he knew already, but being a good little Ensign, reported it first.

Which, right now, wasn't a good idea. She called out, "If it's broke, fix it! Report it later!" She winced as the console sparked. It wasn't quite dead, but needed to be taken apart to fix. She sighed as she knew she had to hand it off. She needed to get that pressure stabalized. She looked over to Mei and walked over touching her shoulder, "Make sure someone fixes that console sometime soon before it blows up." She got to a console just as the cover was being put back on.

In the back of her mind, she wondered about Saia and Saul. The beeping finally stopped as the computer announced, "Pressure stabalized."

She looked over as she heard an explosion. Another console was smoking and a young blonde woman lay near it, burns on her arms. Nara ran over and knelt by her. She frowned as she hit her comm for a medical beam up. She stood and heard another alarm warning of an offline system. She looked over to a young Trill staring at his console unsure what to do. She quickly made her way there, and pressed the console to fix the problem. As she walked away, she told him, "Can't break down, Ensign."

She was in her element. She was at her best. Not as good as Ella or Dhani, but who she was, how she was trained in Starfleet and on Sakaria, this was her best. She had no time for self-pity. She had only to concentrate on the crisis. She could take charge.

Failing lifeform mode off. Thriving commander mode on.

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda
Cadet Ezri Daniels, Engineering Midshipman, USS Miranda

Deck 40, Main Engineering

TJ was making progress when the Hydrans got another hit and it sent him backwards off the chair. Thankfully he turned to his good side as he fell, but it did nothing to stop him from yelling out in pain as his other side compacted from the fall, "FREL!!!" He rolled onto his back, just holding his side.

Ezzie was working on rerouting power around a blown relay when she heard the scream to her left.

She saw the Ensign on the ground and ran over to him.

Kneeling beside him, she inspected his side. ~Nothing sticking out and no blood, that's good,~ "Ensign, are you ok??"

TJ's eyes where closed due to the pain, but he was able to get out a reply, "No, but I'll live." He let his head fall back and he relaxed a bit. He finally looked at the owner of the voice, "Cadet Daniels, nice to see you again. Word of warning, never get broken ribs. Mind helping me up?"

She was stronger than she looked, but was gentle enough to make sure that she didn't hurt him. He pointed over to the other side of the room, "Over to that station please." The ship shuddered again, but not as bad as it had. He winced again, but was getting used to the pain. He looked down at her, "So, what did I pull you away from?"

Ezzie felt his weight on her shoulder but she continued to help him over to the other side of Main Engineering, saying silent blessings that she had gotten into weight training back at school. She was a petite girl, but incredible strong for her size. "Just rerouting some power." A shower of sparks flew and she turned briefly from it.

"Their anti-shield weapons are creating all sorts of electrical feedback...shorting shit--" oops, should she be swearing?--"out all over the ship. The relay system is lit up like Risa during Farhasaba."

"I don't doubt it Cadet. That Hellbore of theirs is what I was trying to scan when I fell." He tried not wincing when he stepped down, but the pain felt worse when he was vertical. "And swear all you want. You'll feel better later." He smiled as best he could.

They reached the other side of the Engineering chamber and she helped him into a chair. She looked him over once. "Are you SURE you're alright, sir?"

"No, but like I said, I'll live. Besides, we need all the hands we can get. So unless I've got a dynospanner or something sticking out of me, I'm staying here." He unzipped his jacket and got it off, though not in the most graceful manner. "Hey, under that console," he said, pointing to the neighboring station, "Is a field Med Kit. Could you get it? There are some pain killers in it."

She hurried over and grabbed the kit and brought it back to him. Opening the kit, she followed his instructions as to what hypospray bottle to get.

He injected the meds and instantly felt better, a smile appearing on his face. "So, mind joining me?" he asked, pointing to the empty station next to his, "You can still reroute power and do whatever else is needed. Shaav is probably crawling around the injectors or something making sure they are at peak efficiency, so you don't need to worry about him showing up. Besides, I can help and do several other things." He turned to activate the network protocols to the last station he was at, "At the very least, I need someone to help me up when I fall again. Medicated or not, it still hurts" He winked when he said that.

He also noticed that she wasn't armed. He hit a panel between him and the support strut, which sent a slight pain up his side. It turned, holding several phasers and what looked like shock grenades, "Take a phaser, but ignore the noisemakers."

She took the phaser confidently and clipped it to her belt. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

"Alright, sir. Where do we start?"

"First we need to continue rerouting power where it’s needed. Weapon systems and shields are the best starting points. Fire suppression is secondary at this point, though if you can get suppression in critical areas working, do it. It'll save a lot of time and damage. Also, if you can get in touch with repair crews, send them to the most needed power conduit and EPS repair and replacements." He turned to the controls and went about rerouting and getting info out to whoever could use it.

Before they could make much progress, the deck felt like it had been grabbed by a giant hand and flung like a Frisbee. Feeling the momentum shift she reacted much like she had been taught so many years ago on the Galaxy. She grabbed a nearby handle with one hand and grabbed Tagra's arm with the other.

The inertial dampeners could not keep up with the momentum of the ship, and despite Ezzie's death grips; they were still thrown about a bit. By the end of the rollercoaster ride from hell, she was somehow, by the grace of the Gods, still holding on, but screaming wildly as her shoulder tried to tear itself from its socket.

TJ left his chair as the Miranda went in all directions at once. Somehow, Daniels was able to hold onto him, but it didn't do anything to stop him from landing wrong on the floor on his right-hand side. In one thud, the remaining cracked and strained, yet unbroken ribs broke. The meds did nothing to dull the pain as he yelled out a hellish scream. Then it felt like he had shortness of breath, but couldn't think. The pain took that ability away for the moment.

He was starting to have tunnel vision when he saw Cadet Daniels face, she was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. Then the darkness came for him.

"Shit!" She wasn't a trained medic by any means and was at a loss as to what to do. She took his vital signs: still breathing. He needed a doctor, and she wasn't it. She overheard someone yelling that the transporters were down, so that ruled out that option. She tapped her commbadge, =Daniels to Sickbay, emergency in Engineering...get a medic down here now!=

She looked down at him. "Hold on, Ensign, they're coming for you."

Somehow, T'Jaden knew he was out. Part of his brain still worked enough for him to realize this, strange as it was. He faintly heard Daniels, but wasn't sure if it was real. All he knew was that it hurt to breath and that somewhere on the Miranda; Jacen was as alone as he felt now. He only hoped that he was still in one piece. He tried in vain to reach out to him through their Joining Bond, but nothing. Not that he could do that at any given moment under normal circumstances, but he needed something, some sort of contact to ensure that he wasn't dead.

Because if this is death, he didn't like it one bit.

Lamar:

"The Waiting Game"

<<It would be a while before she'd wake up.>>

Rayna slowly opened her eyes as she regained consciousness. She could hear what sounded like metal clinking against metal and the smell of food filled the air. There was some coughing and a few groans and moans around her. She tried to lift her head up to see where it was coming from in the dimly lit room or what seemed to be a room, but couldn't, not yet. As her eyes focused more, she could see a figure sitting down in the corner attending to a pot hanging and cooking over a small fire. Rayna once again tried to sit up, pushing herself up with her hands but one of her wrists had deep intense pain. She grabbed the wrist and noted that it was splinted.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you. You've got a slight concussion. Sorry about that."

Rayna wasn't quite sure why she was apologizing, "Why? Because I hit my head?"

Chuckles slightly, "No but because I was responsible for hurting you."

"Hmmm and my wrist?"

"Yeah, that too. But if I hadn't, you'd be dead."

"Well, then thank you."

The woman handed her a cup, "Here you go. Drink up." Rayna looked at her for a briief moment, "It's Romulan soup but that's all we have right now."

Rayna heard that it was nasty stuff and after tasting it, she had to agree. She drank it anyway. "So, where are you from?" Rayna asked.

"Our ship, the USS Hood was destroyed. We were able to escape before it was too late. And you?"

"The USS Miranda. I was down here on assignment when Romulas was attacked."

"Ah, was that the first time you've ever seen a Hydran?"

"Yeah. And hopefully, I won't see one again." Rayna just wanted to go home to her kids.

"Don't we all." The woman took the cup, "Rest now."

"Treatment"

Second lieutenant Branwen London - SFMC

Executive officer Galaxy Furies and Furies counselor

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete

Assistant Chief of Science - USS Miranda

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

Marine Aid Camp, Romulus

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

"Next!" Branwen called out. Now there were some more doctors to help out, they had her seeing to the lighter wounded. Since there was still a shortage of doctors the medical department couldn't do without her. But at least now she didn't feel so completely out of her depth. She felt more secure doing first aid work and even a little counseling of the bereaved and the frightened patients. Having Man'darr and Victor close helped a lot as well.

Era had been sitting quietly, waiting for a moment when a doctor could get to her. She was elated to have found not just Starfleet personnel, but a friend as well. There had been little time for her to catch up with For'kel - both were too exhausted to do much talking on the way back to the aid station and once there he had had things to do. Era had drifted into a corner, unsure how to help, the triage surrounding her producing a distinct feeling of hopelessness. She hadn't even thought to have her wound checked out until the place where she was sitting turned into a line for medical services, and now she was up next.

Rising to her feet, she came over to where the doctor waited. Blood had dried on her hair and face, and some still oozed from the cut to her head. "Guess that's me."

Bran smiled. "Hello there, miss. Let me have a look at that. Don't worry too much, head wounds usually bleed a lot but are seldom dangerous. Any dizziness or nausea?" She guided Era to a makeshift bed. "I am Branwen by the way."

Era had gotten used to being led by the hand by nurses while in the mental hospital and so quietly went where she was directed. "Erastus. A little dizziness, a little nausea," she admitted, though whether derived from the head wound or the appalling situation she couldn't say.

"Let's have a look, miss." Bran said running a scanner over the wound.

"Looks like a bit of a concussion." She said while working. "How did you end up here anyway, miss Erastus?"

A week ago, Era would have been quick to correct anyone calling her miss, preferring the title lieutenant. Yet now, after so long, she'd grown accustomed to a civilian form of address - it matched her civilian attire. "I met up with Colonel Arvelion. Helped him out of a tight spot," she explained, not thinking to answer why she was on Romulus on the first place. After all, why were any of them? "He brought me back here."

"You met the colonel? He is my boss." She looked at the disheveled woman.

"Are you a Starfleet officer?" Bran continued to work her scanner.

"Of course I am." The question nettled her, as did the look. "I'm Lieutenant Ampete of the USS Miranda. Who are you?" It was blunt, tactless, far from the usual Era.

"Ah..." Bran said. "Sorry, ma'am. I am second lt. Branwen London, USMC USS Galaxy. I eh... you are so out of uniform."

"Am I? Really?!" Sarcasm etched itself onto her words with a venom quite foreign to the naturally good-tempered Kaelian. "That must explain why I only now got out of a Romulan hell-hole. If only I'd thought to wear my uniform!" And in an expression of mocking duncity, she smacked her open palm to her forehead, aggravating the wound the doctor was attempting to heal. "Thank you 'so' much for telling me."

"Move your hand away." Bran said less then kind herself now. "You are making things worse. And for your info I have been working here almost non-stop for nearly 3 days now doing a job that is not mine. I try to stay nice to people but you are not making it easy." She took up another tool. "Hold still now, I wont' want to miss the area I am treating, ma'am."

"One more doctor who thinks I hinder their job." Era's hand dropped back down, letting Branwen access the afflicted area. "Do they train you doctors in how to be arrogant, or does it just come naturally?"

"Jeez, I can ask the same of you, you know. Are all Miranda crew assholes?

Usually people say I am too nice, this is certainly new for me. And I am not a doctor." Now she concentrated and bit the tip of her tongue to do a good job and not hurt her patient.

Era was tired of sitting still; tired of being pushed around, told what to do and not do, and most of all angered that when she finally got to the place where she wanted to be she found it to be just as confining as where she had been. Rudely pushing the woman's hand out of the way, she got up. "It'll heal on its own."

"Idiot!" Bran called out finally having enough of taking crap from people after 3 days. "You could have really made me hurt you are you crazy or something. Sit back down here, you have a concussion and that wound needs suturing!"

Era snapped. "I am not crazy! I am not sick! I am not useless!" she railed at the woman, incensed beyond reason, unaware of the volume of her voice or the scene she was creating.

Somehow this helped to calm Branwen down. She backed off a little bit and regarded the other woman, at the same time she took a deep breath. "Look, I am sorry, I shouldn't have said you are crazy. I know you are not sick and I doubt you are useless. But I do need to look after your wounds. ... Please?"

Era had been all set to continue her tirade, but the "please" touched something inside her that calmed her anger. She seemed to fold into herself, succumbing to that single word. "Okay," she mumbled, returning to the bed she'd just abandoned.

Bran touched her shoulder gently. Waiting for the woman to settle before treating her again. "What happened to you, ma'am." The Welshwoman asked softly.

"Nothing." Then, proceeding to ignore her own statement, Era elaborated, though again choosing which happening to detail. "Got into a hand-to-hand with a Hydran. Closed the distance before he could fire his rifle, so he clubbed me with it."

"That must have been disconcerting." Bran said picking up the tool again.

"But I bet you lost your uniform before. Please sit still again, ma'am." She warned.

Era bristled at the warning, the tone stirring her out of the sudden lethargy, but obeyed. "I lost it in a cemetery."

Bran noticed her jumpiness. "Ma'am, whatever happened to you was obviously very stressful, I understand you don't want to talk about it with a total stranger but when you get back to your ship please talk to one of the counselors on board, okay?" She said kindly while she continued to work.

Something between a sigh and a snort preceded her answer. "Fine. Almost done?"

"Almost, ma'am. You have a concussion, I can give you something for it, but I am going to strongly recommend you stay here and rest for at least an hour or two. You will be much more useful afterwards if you do." She finished gently.

The thought of rest, of sleep, was definitely appealing. "I can do that," she nodded.

Bran finished. "Okay, that's it. Let's find you a bed and how about I check up on you in a few hours after you have rested?"

Again Era nodded and followed the woman to an available bed where she could stretch out for a few hours at the least. "Thanks."

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda
Jacen McAlister, Civilian Bartender, USS Miranda, npc

Deck 23, Medical Lab

TJ was out on the Lab's biobed. His induced slumber was ensuring his recovery take faster than if he where awake, at least that's what the Med personnel kept telling Jacen.

It had been two days since the battle, and two days without certainty. When he was contacted about TJ, Jacen was being treated for first and second degree burns while getting prepped for surgery. The EPS feed to the replicator in their quarters blew when the Miranda went spinning. Unfortunately, that spinning sent him towards the blast and not way from it.

All the burns where to his head's right side and his left arm. The blast had caused his right eye's lens to have severe trauma from shrapnel, which he was told later would have to be replaced.

So here he was, sitting by the bed; head shaved clean with all burns treated, though his skin still had a redness to it and with a bandage over his eye. He watched TJ every waking hour, hoping he would be allowed to wake up.

The Medics told him that all his right side ribs had been broken and three had punctured his lung. Normally, this wasn't too much of an issue with modern medicine, but TJ's lungs where thirty percent more vascular than normal, and the damage was in a critical area. Had he been allowed to stay awake, they weren't certain he'd heal correctly. Besides, Jacen knew that as soon as he'd wake, TJ would be sprinting back to Engineering to lend a hand, even against all protests by the Medical staff, and Jacen. He was loyal to a fault at times.

He was also informed of the Cadet Midshipman who helped TJ down in Engineering, and Jacen intended to thank her for everything after all this was done with and they where safe back in Federation space.

A nurse walked in and checked TJ over once, "You'll be happy to know that the treatments took," she said, smiling. She removed the medical thingy from TJ's head, "Give him a few minutes and he'll be awake, but sore. His ribs and lung are fully healed, but a majority of the bruises where left since they weren't life threatening."

Jacen just smiled back at her, "Thanks. What about work? Trust me, he'll want to know." She looked TJ over and thought about that for a second, "I'm going to put him on light duty for at least a day. He can go back as soon as he wants, but no running around Jeffries Tubes or replacing anything heavier than 10 kilos." She was typing something into he PADD while she talked, "I've sent the message to his CO. So you don't have to worry that he won't listen. Besides, after at least 24 hours, he should be fine. The soreness will go away and he'll be good as new. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got other patients to tend to. The replicator is working, so he can get a fresh uniform." She waved as she left and Jacen returned it.

No sooner than the doors hissed closed that TJ woke. His eyes opened slowly and he looked around, "Where am I?" "Med Lab 7, I think. Deck 23," Jacen replied. TJ looked over and his eyes nearly fell from their sockets, "I'd never think of you taking on the Deltan and Pirate look!"

"Ha ha funny man," Jacen said as he went on to explain what happened to both himself and TJ. "Most everything in our quarters is fine, except the wall. The Dinner Table will have to be replaced, but its nothing. The nurse said your free to go back to work, though on light duty."

TJ sat up and noticed he was in a medical gown. "Let me replicate you a uniform. I've got you commbadge, so no worries on getting a replacement," Jacen stated.

TJ dressed and ran his hands through his hair, "Believe me Smoothnose, I don't want to go. I'd rather stay with you, but-" "But you've got to help get he ship up to speed, I know. I want you to," Jacen finished for him, wrapping his arms around his partner. TJ held his love for a moment, "I made it through this. I'll see you soon, I promise." He kissed Jacens' bare scalp.

Jacen pulled away and just looked at him. He cupped his left cheek in his hand, "I love you. Go kick some Hydran ass." TJ held his mate's hand, "For you, I'll kick several ships in the ass." He leaned in and kissed Jacen with a fiery passion, then pulled away, "I love you with everything Jacen. Tam was right, you are my Imzadi. Never forget that."

Jacen wanted to cry with that statement, but held it back, "I won't. Now go, before I change my mind about letting you." TJ smiled and kissed Jacen on the cheek before leaving.

Jacen stood and watched the doors close, still holding his cheek where TJ had just kissed him. "Gaia watch over us all," he whispered as he left to do what he could to help.

Jacen never mentioned that he heard TJ reaching for him two days ago. Now wasn't the time. He needed focus for the fight ahead.

"After Effects"

PFC Norma Jean Riley (NPC)

Maintenance Technician

Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

(OOC: Occurs just before the Fleet pulls out - I was waiting for Dave to respond to my email but felt that delaying the post would detract from the new turn of events. Sorry Dave.)

****

Temporary Aid Station

Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

ch'Rihan

****

The Romulan woman had stayed with her for almost an hour while they talked. They had talked about all manner of topics, from the latest in Romulan fashion to the story of her life; about her family; the marines; and even about the act of committing suicide. And through it all, Norma began to realize that there was more to life than the marines, more to live for. Much more. That she had tried to take the cheap way out, made her feel sick in her stomach now.

The woman had begrudgingly given her rifle back, no doubt with a heavy dose of unsurety whether the Terran would try and attempt that shameful act again. Norma had assured her that she wouldn't. Not any more. And she had meant it.

Pulling a ration bar from her pocket, she pealed the wrapper back and took a bite. She blanched at the taste, but continued chewing. As horrible as it tasted, it was sustenance, and she didn't know when she'd get to eat again. Swallowing with an audible gulp, she took another bite. As she chewed, she saw a young Romulan boy sitting watching her. Wearing a tattered shirt, and shorts that were little better, he looked like the young orphan boy from that movie they had shown in the Marine commons a few days before they had been deployed. It seemed like it had been weeks since that day, but that was war for you.

She looked at her bar and then back at the kid. She pointed at him and then the snack, and he nodded in response. She waved him over and handed him the half eaten ration bar. He turned to go, but Norma go the shock of her life when he turned back and threw his arms around her in a hug. She hugged him back and then smiled at him when their embrace ended. She watched as he scampered back to his seat and with eager little arms, he ripped into the bar and devoured it in one mouthful. She couldn't help but wonder at what the the Romulan people and their government did all day to leave young children in such a state of malnutrition.

She frowned when a handful of more children descended on the young boy as he ate. Pulling her last two bars from her pack, she started to open them up, breaking them into thirds for the other children that were headed her way, once the boy had pointed out where he had gotten the food. When she ran out, and with more eager children standing around she shrugged her shoulders. Despite the language barriers, - she couldn't speak a lick of Romulan - they seemed to understand, turning away in sadness. Then spotting a group of marines, whom she didn't recognize, walk past, she waved at the kids to wait.

"Lieutenant," she called out to get his attention, "you don't have any spare ration bars on you?" She nodded in the direction of the children as an explanation.

Even in the biggest war of most of their lives, with such suffering and destruction, there was always something that brightened the mood. And seeing the children's eager eyes on him, he couldn't help but smile. "I think we can spare some."

Norma watched as each of the small band on men gave up a ration bar each. Though a single bar didn't seem like much to most people, with all that they were going through, Norma understood the sacrifice they were making. For some it might be their last one, and then they'd have to either share or scavenge for food out in Ra'tleihfi.

"Here." He said as he walked over and handed her the bars.

"Thank you." She smiled. He was a looker, that was for sure. And he seemed to be a better-than-good soldier. So many had died, and yet he looked like he didn't even have a scratch on him. Therefore she assumed that he was a pretty good shot with the rifle he wore slung over his shoulder.

Unwrapping a bar, she started handing it out to the children.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Norma nodded, never stopping in her task. "I am now, sir."

"Good. We need all the help we can get around here." He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, causing her to look up at him. "This is a wonderful thing you're doing for them."

"I doubt they understand the sacrifice that giving these away will mean to your unit, in the long term, that is, but it doesn't diminish the good it does to see them smile, even if only for a moment."

"Too right. Keep up the good." he replied. "I..."

"El-tee," one of the men called out, "we need to get going if we are to catch up to Baker company before the sun comes up."

He turned and nodded to the men. "I'm Damon, by the way." he said turning back to Norma.

"Norma Jean" she replied with a smile. "Good luck up there."

"You too." He replied with a nod, before he and the men started at a brisk walk towards the southern exit to the aid station.

Watching his back as he retreated from the room, she couldn't help but mutter, "He's definitely a looker."

Their stomach's sated for now, the children ran off to play, filled with a boundless energy that Norma had not seen for a long time.

She looked around at the mess that was the small cave. She spotted an aging terran doctor, that she was sure she had met somewhere before, though couldn't think where. He was busy trying to save one of the patients, and he looked very skilled at his profession. Momentarily, he stopped, seeing that the patient had succumbed to his injuries, despite all his tireless effort. He shook his head, whether in anger or sadness, Norma couldn't tell, and looked up, and incidentally, right in Norma's direction. She blushed, when she she saw that he had seen her staring at him. He just smiled.

Norma sat there watching the Physician as the next patient was brought in. He wiped the back of his blood soaked hand across his brow, leaving a trail of blood in it's wake. She giggled, drawing his gaze again. Raising his hands questioningly, she rubbed at her brow briefly, highlighting what he had just done. Even with her limited knowledge of anything relating to medicine, she knew that it wasn't very hygienic to have someone else's blood there, where it could fall onto the next patient. Especially during triage in a makeshift hospital. Much like mixing Grease and Oil, it wasn't a good idea. She had done that once and it wasn't something she wanted to repeat.

He nodded in her direction before turning to the nurse to get it cleaned off.

Looking back at her weapon, she shook her head at the thought of what she had almost done earlier in the day. Probably due to being trapped in such a fraken situation, she mused.

Another explosion could be heard, on the surface, and the shock sent more dust down covering everything. The lights dimmed, but for a moment before beginning to flicker as the generator started coughing and eventually spluttering to a stop, sending the area into darkness.

Norma smiled. Finally, something she could actually do, other than sit around and moan about her pitiful existence. Turning on the flashlight of her rifle, she got up, and padded over to the generator.

Yes, this was definitely something she was qualified to do.

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