Lamar:

"The Waiting Game"

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.

OOC: By now this might be a slight back-post... my apologies but I actually forgot I had it set on. The Romulan Snipers are ofcourse played by Jola.

"Sniper!"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion-SFMC Commanding Officer/Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

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

For the forces on the ground, the Marines, Hazard, and ad-hoc security groups assigned to bolster Romulus' defenses, borrowing an old Terran military term, it was D-day plus three... almost exactly seventy-two hours since the mass invasion had begun.

For'kel was exhausted, as he figured everyone must have been as they'd been engaging and withdrawing almost non-stop since the order to break down by squad was given. Now he was trying to get a squad to a warehouse behind Hydran lines, reputed to be a stockpiling point that had been over looked during the invasion. Ironically, it was the same boy that he'd given the aid kit to who clued him in... a debt repaid one can say.

As if menuvering through a city without benefit of most of their technology at night and behind enemy lines, eluding patrols all the way wasn't difficult enough, he was about to find out things could always get worse.

Hanaj sat cradling his disruptor rifle. He'd been one of the lucky few to actually get a meeting with the Hydrans before being shot at. That he put down to his firm belief that he knew the right way. Everyone else had been going to plead for clemency. Cowards. Any boy who'd grown up on the streets, getting by from day to day off the sweat of his hands as Hanaj had, knew that you didn't beg mercy from the big dogs. You courted them. You fawned and whined and you did their dirty work for them and in the end, when they won as they always did, they tossed you a bone.

And if Hanaj played his cards right, Romulus would be a damn good bone.

Vrih drew his attention, pointing past a small fire from a smoldering, abandoned barricade. Squinting through the smoke into the gloom, Hanaj caught sight of the intruders. He spat to the side, taking aim at the one in front. Filthy Federation carpetbaggers, here to rut in his home's devestation.

Hanaj fired.

The beam glanced off some debris before hitting For'kel in the shoulder, the mandatory standard issue body armor saving him from a wound that would in all likelihood have severed his arm if he'd taken it without the ample protection of the suit. It was still a rather nasty hit, the skin around the open wound burned by process of thermal damage.

Still, it wasn't enough to take him out of the fight. "Sniper, get down!"

Vrih's shots came next, two in rapid succession, aimed at herding the Starfleeters back into the open - or at least forcing them to move from one area of cover to another, leaving the take-downs to Hanaj who had the better aim. Vrih didn't particularly dislike Starfleet. He could respect their abilities and had to give credit to any entity that had survived for so long against numerous superior enemies. But the Hydrans were different. They could ensure victory. And Vrih always backed a winner.

"Two of them sir, third floor of that micro-tower." Lieutenant Dana Collins, a long time 101st officer whispered barely above the whine of the incoming Romulan disruptors.

"We'll flank left. Cougar, you and Jasum flank right. Tollis, give us some covering fire, make sure you're out of their firing arcs before approaching the building."

Cougar gave a nod, indicating he understood. Tollis, a Bajoran Marine took up position next to For'kel and returned fire, followed in short order by the other six Marines in the squad, their Phaser blasts striking damn close to the building, impacting near the windows.

Hanaj and Vrih, in their separate corners of the building, ducked down as the opposing fire began. Hanaj, the more determined of the two, only waited a moment after the first barrage before rising again to take aim and fire. He only got off a single shot before leaving his chosen position and working his way through the building for a better vantage point based on the cover the Marines had taken.

Vrih gritted his teeth as he heard Hanaj fire. There were more than he'd anticiapted. Not that the small handful of Starfleet Marines would prove problematic for the Hydrans, but Vrih rather desired to live to see them all taken down. If Hanaj did something stupid... Vrih didn't trust the younger man. He had too much of an idealistic turn of mind. Dangerous, that was, in the middle of a war.

Peering over the sill of the window, Vrih caught sight of dark figures moving just out of sight. Not all that surprising, and he'd planned for that. Pulling over the tripod that had lain ready, he set up a rifle on it, aimed out the window at where the Marines had taken cover, and set the weapon to random fire. Then, as quietly as he could, he crept toward the rear entrance to the building.

It was always the one group that you missed that caused the most trouble. As Cougar was spotted, he and his backup running full stride for the rear entrance, For'kel and Dana managed to gain entrance through a second floor window.

Holy crap! They were being fired upon by... Romulans?! "Drop your weapons!"

Vrih cursed as the two burst in on him. He didn't immediately drop his rifle, training it first on the man, then the woman, then back again. He wondered where Hanaj had gotten himself.

For'kel didn't have the hesitation the young, inexperienced child did. When he didn't immediately drop the weapon the Stagnorian pulled the trigger. Fair was fair, he was given a chance to surrender and didn't, it was time to move on.

Dana de-activated the automated firing drone. "This could be of use if we take it with us."

He gave a nod, searching Vrih for any last-minute traps or intelligence of where he might have come from.

Vrih was devoid of either, all the sensitive materials having been entrusted to the de facto leader of the duo, Hanaj, who was now advancing toward the room from the south side of the building, having heard the command and shot. Crouching low, he peeked around a corner, catching sight of the female's back. It was an obstructed shot, but Hanaj didn't think twice and fired.

No sooner had she heard the beam hit the desk behind her the sniper pair had erected as a makeshift fortification then she ducked behind it, pulling her rifle around to return fire.

She didn't have to however, the footsteps of two additional Marines, the ones Hanaj was 'going' to fire at, stopped right behind him. Cougar pressed his rifle's emitter rather pointedly against the back of the Romulan's head. "Put it down!"

The disruptor clattered to the floor. "Don't shoot!"

Dana slowly got up from her hiding space, keeping a rifle trained on him from the front. No less than three different Marines had him in their sights as For'kel approached. He picked up the Romulan rifle and powered it down. "What the 'hell' were you doing?!"

Hanaj started to scoff, then felt the warning press of the rifle against the back of his neck and swallowed it back. "I do not have to answer that."

For'kel smirked. He certainly had guts to say something like that to four people he was about to kill, and were all too ready to return the favor. Patting him down, the Stagnorian removed a disruptor pistol, a pair of grenades, his excess information, and the documents he'd been carrying... all of which would likely prove valuable. "Don't you realize we're not the ones you should be fighting?"

Hanaj did some quick thinking. The Hydrans might be the big dogs on a planetary scale, but right now his world was a lot smaller and these Marines were a lot bigger than he alone. "You're right, you're right. My mistake. It's so dark, it's hard to see, I didn't think Starfleet would have penetrated so far behind the lines," he wheedled.

"Huh, and rather then say something after you heard what happened to your friend, you opted to fire at my Marine instead?" It was obvious For'kel didn't believe him. Rather roughly pushing the man in the Bajoran's way he gave simple directions. "Tie his hands and gagh him. If he tries running, shoot him."

"Wait, no! I can be of use to you!" Hanaj struggled as his hands were pulled behind his back and bound.

"Yeah, I intend on hiding behind you if we run across the Hydrans." For'kel murmured, taking stock of what they did find. "Of use 'how'?"

"I know where they are. I can show you."

"When I'm ready to find them, you will. How much can you carry?" If nothing else, they can use him as a pack mule.

"Carry?" This wasn't what Hanaj had been bargaining for. "I can't carry anything with my hands tied."

"Sure you can." Cougar clapped him on the shoulder. "Nothing wrong with your back, and we brought plenty of bags."

"Let's get going." For'kel muttered as soon as Dana had disassembled the automated weapons system. "We don't have much time left before sunrise."

Hanaj didn't like the way things were going. As he was hauled to his feet, he caught sight of the downed body of his friend. "Why'd you shoot him?" he demanded.

"He was warned to put it down, and didn't." The Stagnorian growled as they started down the stairs. "I don't give two. Now shut up."

The Romulan took the warning and had little choice but to follow, sparing a last parting look at his comrade. He scowled as the bags were heaped on him but kept his mouth shut. If he was going to survive this, he'd have to play nice.

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

(Dana/For'kel scene)

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

The sun was just begining to climb into the sky of Romulus when they made it back to the underground tunnel network that had been serving as the nerve center for their operations as of late. He'd forgotten how many hours it had been since the battle started, and frankly he didn't care. For'kel was exhausted, and on top of that, he'd been wounded.

Why he decided it was a good idea to interrogate this man, he didn't know. He could have let anyone do it... hell he was half convinced he should turn him over to the Romulan interrogator they rescued earlier in the day... but he did want the kid alive, and preferably untortured.

He plopped down in a seat opposite of the Romulan boy, who in turn was tied down to his chair, and simply stared, folding his hands together.

Hanaj's shoulders and back ached from the burdened journey. Being tied down to a chair and stared at didn't help either. After a moment fruitlessly testing his bonds, he broke the oppressive silence. "I want some water."

"Welcome to the club." For'kel kept his gaze, burdened by weariness as it was, on the Romulan's eyes. "Where are they?"

"Ask nicely."

More, silent, displeased staring.

Hanaj squirmed under that gaze. "I can show you on a map."

For'kel offered a detailed map with all locations and gathered intelligence erased. No need to clue him in on exactly how much they did or didn't know.

Hanaj strained against his bonds to get a good look, hopping his chair forward, closer to the table. "Do I have to point with my nose?"

"No." For'kel muttered, and stuck a stylus inbetween his teeth.

Hanaj, mortified, glared at the man, his teeth bared as he stabbed down at three locations on the map.

The Colonel looked over his de-facto notations. "Those are the only locations you know?"

Hanaj shook his head, convinced his life depended on how useful he could be. He pointed again, this time taking more time to study the map and, in two instances, attempting to draw a circumference and indicate a relationship between locations.

"What are these two?" He pointed to the positions that seemed to be tied together, removing the stylus from the Romulan's mouth so he could speak.

He rotated his jaw slightly to loosen the muscles after gripping the stylus. "Part of their communications network. Intelligence gathering for while they're on the surface."

Although he hid it well, For'kel was salivating. If they could tap into that network, they would know everything the Hydrans did, and more importantly, be able to dictate what the Hydrans knew. "Defenses?"

"I only saw the exterior for this one," he bobbed his head in indication. "They take it seriously, but they didn't give me the details on numbers. They were in the process of putting up a blockade. Jammers were already in place to prevent transporter and sensor signals from getting through. They seemed to think they had something else up their sleeve, but I don't know what it was."

"All right." For'kel said calmly, almost as if disappointed in the information, pocketing the map. "Someone will bring you food and water in a few minutes."

Hanaj nodded and sat back. Some bone, he thought to himself.

"Unification"

Part Two

Featuring:

Ensign T'Ashaya

Senator tr'Khnialmnae

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

Somewhere near the capitol

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

They moved forward with purpose. That much was evident, though what the eight of them could possibly logically accomplish against the invading force, T'Ashaya didn't know. If they were eight highly trained operatives, she reasoned they might have some chance of doing something other than dying vain deaths.

They weren't, though.

T'Ashaya was a Vulcan surfer girl at heart and a marine biologist by training. Nothing in that mixture prepared her for anything of this nature. Her classical Vulcan training gave her some knowledge of the ancient arts of self-defense, as the discipline involved in the martial studies had some usefulness in fostering emotional self control, something her mother believed her daughter severely lacked.

Given her current choice of career, that training had proved useful to a degree. She'd managed to suprise more than one Starfleet self defense instructor with her skill with the nerve pinch.

It didn't seem likely she would have the opportunity to use her skills against the Hydrans. She hadn't been able to use them against Senator Aieme's guards, either. No, the Vulcan Tsunami feared her presence here with this group was nothing but detrimental to them.

"Senator," her voice hushed close to his ear. "Perhaps it would be beneficial if we were aware of what you are planning."

"As I mentioned before we set out, we are headed towards a location I know to be frequented by the Reunification movement of my people." He turned his head to look at her. "You DO know what I'm refering to, yes?"

"Yes, and that is why I am confused by this plan of action." T'Ashaya allowed the barest hint of exasperation into her voice. "It has been my understanding that the renunification movement has been peaceful and marked with pacifism, thus it seems highly illogical to adjourn to that location when it seems unlikely it will hold the supplies we need. Specifically, I am thinking of heavier weapons, as that seems the only viable solution to our current difficulties."

Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae nodded sagely. "That's only partially true. As a movement that has for the past decade been largely in disfavor with the majority of the politicians, both pre and post Shinzon, they have been surprisingly keen at keeping secret their locations, meethings, identities, and so forth. Even the Tal Shiar had dificulties and this was when they were at their strongest."

Curiosity piqued, the Vulcan Tsunami arced and eyebrow. "I find it interesting that you possess such information, Senator. Precisely how did you come about it?"

He smiled and indicated for the lead Praetorian to take the next left. "I've been absent from the Senate for some time now; my duties as a Senator are to the people I representate in council. I cannot in good conscience claim to speak for them if I do not know them. The decisions I make, the roads I travel, they are all weighted on the question of 'what will the people gain?' If they gain nothing it is of little worth. If it causes me to 'lose face,' before my fellow senators yet my people prosper from it, I am satisfied and my honor is thus properly served. I am truly a servant of the People.

"As for the specific place we're going, it probably won't have any weapons, or those that are present will be jealously guarded," the senator continues. "However, what it WILL have in plenty are the other supplies we'll need: food and water, a safe haven to rest as opposed to out in the open, and ample security; the Praetorians will assist with that aspect."

"But we will still need to obtain superior weapons if we indeed plan to do anything obtaining this safe haven you describe." She almost frowned. "Certainly others will have thought of your plan as well, others with less than idealistic goals. While your Praetorians may be excellent marksmen, these weapons have limited charge capability at this setting. How long do you expect us to hold out?"

"I did not say that was my entire plan, nor did I imply that that is all we will do. I cannot predict the future, therefore any plan that I enact will suffer change dependant upon new variables introduced to the equasion, as with anything done in life." He called a halt at this point, having found a temporary safe house for them to rest for a period of time. It was what looked to have been a storage building, situated behind a market. It had already been ransacked, but the amount of debris within would allow the group to remain visually concealed, yet maintain a reasonable amount of security. Once they were settled in, Aehkhifv continued their conversation. "Right now, everyone who isn't already in hiding is either dead, captured, or like

us, scurying around like rats. You said yourself the Reunification is a predominantly peacefull organization. However, there are other organizations friendly to us that aren't in the business of peace."

"Fascinating," she deadpanned. "Go on."

"I believe an update to your current events information is in order.

Some time after the incident with the planetary defence network, word arrived to the Senate: our Second Galae - Fleet - had been wiped out, with but a single survivor. After a request for assistance defencing ch'Rihan, should it come to that, Starfleet dispatched the USS Miranda and a small task force of about a dozen other starships here. A plan was formed, and preparations implimented, and during this time we recieved further updates: the Hydran fleet had completly walked through the third, fourth, and seventh's galae's, complete losses."

Aehkhifv paused, a moment of silence; many of his old friends had been aboard those fleets.

"I was aware that the Miranda was in orbit," T'Ashaya confirmed, settling on the ground to rest. "I am stationed to that vessel."

"Part of the battle plan incorporated a ground base defense of this city: the bulk of your marines deployed to the surface, and augmented by the city law enforcement and our own meager units of soldiers, prepared to fight it out here. It didn't take long: the Hydrans have air and numerical superiority, all friendly units have gone to ground.

Once we have made contact with the Reunification, we can begin to look for scattered units and soldiers, bring them together, and begin to develop a true Underground. However, such hoped are to far forward for me to make any reliable planning off of, hence the reason I have stated that we will attempt to reach the Reunification, and move from there."

She nodded slightly. "So it is certain we are cut off, then?"

"From off-world support, yes."

She cocked her head barely skyward, as if listening to something distant. "And is there any word that Miranda survived?"

"The starbeast had not yet arrived when last I recieved updates from the fleet battle. Our fleet was doing remarkably well, though the outcome is certain at this junction: either they retreated, or have been destroyed to a ship." He did not believe the latter to be true, but without empirical evidence, he could not say for sure one way or the other.

She nodded slightly again, but this time her hand clenched tightly into a fist. Her breathing became slow and deliberate. Logically speaking, it was the correct assumption, of course. Irrationally, she simply did not want to accept it. Her fist struck the ground with a dull thud. She struck the ground again, as if she could beat herself into accepting that fact.

"We should move," cold finality filled her voice, but her voice was not emotionless. "It is unlikely this place will remain safe long, is it not?"

"It will be safe enough for now," he returned, pointing to one of the praetorians. The soldier had been carying a backpack the entire time, and from this was produced a small device replete with Rihannsu scripting. After fiddling with the settings for a moment, the soldier nodded and settled down himself. Of the other 5, 2 were on guard, the rest settling down themselves. "Masking device. It's actually rather unique and a prototype I managed to wheedle out of our research facility a few days before the battle. Any sensor looking into our little corner of the city will see whatever we want them to see. Right now it's configured to show this area as being unoccupied."

The Vulcan woman shivvered. She had lost her jacket on Aieme's yacht and between the damp cell he had held her in, the inappropriateness of her current clothing, and the relative cold of the ch'Rihan twilight, she now had a chill. She did not complain of it, though. It was illogical to complain when little or nothing could be done about the situation. Instead, she set the disruptor she carried on the ground and wrapped her arms around herself to rub her sides, hoping to encourage circulation and thereby warmth.

She cocked her head to the side again, as if she heard something. The tip of her ear seemed to strain skyward to pick up the sound. She shivvered more strongly and her teeth chattered. She struggled to silence them, curling more tightly into herself to conserve heat and do so.

"True cloaking device or simply something to feed false readings to any nearby scanners?" she asked, attempting to distract herself from the chill.

"Simply a 'sensor spoofer.' If we had a holoprojector linked to it, we would be able to make the visual corespond with the sensors." It was at this time that he noted the vulcan's physical response to the temprature. "May I?" he inquired politely. He'd spent enough time with the Reunification movement to have been around a number of vulcans, and hence knew about their 'personal bubble.'

The Vulcan Tsunami remembered all too well what had happened the last time she had been touched. She had thrown Aieme overboard and any chance she had to study the cetaceans here on ch'Rihan. The last time she'd been touched by anyone before that, it had been Lieutenant K'aa, and according to Ensign Pharos she had thrown K'aa into the whale tanks, too. She discerned a pattern developing involving males and water. She gave an indication of ascent and steeled herself against the contact.

He sidled up to her left side, carefully wrapping his right arm around her, allowing his body heat to spread to her torso. Closing his eyes, the senator could feel a tingle at the base of his skull, someting unique he had come to recognize. "I have a small confession to make, T'Ashaya," he said after a few moments of regarding this tingle.

"Though we come from the same genetic history, the Rihannsu have largely neglected to develop their psionic heritage. As a result, only a precious few of us are born with such predispositions. I am one of them."

A wave of shame passed over the Vulcan woman. "Forgive me." She moved as if to move away. "I will maintain better control."

"There is no transgression to forgive," he said, allowing her to move as she wished. "I am simply more receptive to such methods of comunication than most members of my culture."

She moved away, but she was still cold so she did not move far. "I will maintain better control," T'Ashaya repeated. "It will not happen again."

"I need to rest," she admitted. "I have not been able to get adaquate rest for some time now. It is likely the reason my control is inadaquate." She considered that somehow this was all really Spa'an's fault, though she recognized that she could not adaquately explain that stance.

"Of the amenities available, little as they are," he spoke softly, "What do you feel you require at present in order to obtain sleep of a sufficiently restorative quality?"

"At present, just a blanket. I am exausted and should make use of the relative safety."

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

Aproximately an hour later found Aehkhifv still sitting there, his gaze resting upon the slumbering form of T'Ashaya, an emergency blnket wrapped about her. Many things he understood from having lived for more than a century, but never had he learned bout the matters of the heart. Verry rarely had another individual, much less someone not Rihannsu, moved him as much as she did. He pondered for a time the various possibilities open to them, but thinking beyond the next day or two was inefficient and at present a luxury he would not permit himself. Settling down under his own blanket, the senator soon found himself within the world of the dreams.

***Main Sickbay, USS Miranda***

"Joli." Gwen said a few hours later. "Your father is awake, we can go and see him now. But you must promise me that you will go to bed afterwards for a few hours.

Anjoli didn't respond right away, intent upon reading the reports of the battle.

"The Hydrans fired upon escape pods...." she said angrily. "They're undeserving of mercy.....shup'pahs, every last one of them.."

It was clear, especially to Gwen , that Anjoli was beyond exhaustion. Only her agitated and upset emotional state kept her from collapsing where she stood. Three continuous days of harrowing medical duty combined with the emotional turmoil of her parents plight had transformed the Arrin'Haleri into a basket case.

“Right.” Gwen said seeing that reasoning was no use any longer. It was time for firm action. “We are going home now, and you are going to bed. You can talk to your father later. Come on, on your feet.”

"You don't undestand. I have to find my mother. I have to know she's safe...or at least not suffering any more. How will I sleep, not knowing?"

Anjoli's rubbed her eyes and returned her attenton to the sensor logs.

“I will help you.” Resolute she pulled out the computer cable. “Others are looking for her. You need to be in surgery in about ten hours. So bed now!” The redhead ordered.

Anjoli sullenly looked at Gwen .

"You can't understand. I need my mother to be all right. You despise your mother, but I need mine!"

Gwendolyn did not get angry she understood her friends anger. "Yes, I dislike my mother. But if this was my father, sister or you I would be frantic as well. But you are not doing much good. You are too tired to search, people who do this for a living are searching for her. You are a surgeon, and very good surgeon, and we need you to keep people alive. That is why you must rest now, and do your job.." It was difficult, that she knew that with kindness she wouldn't get through right now. She had to do this for Joli.

With a petulant look, the emerald doctor threw the offending PADD against the far wall and stalked out of her office.

Understanding the anger, and even worse the powerlessness, Gwen just followed to see where her friend was going.

Anjoli signed herself off the computer display charting which doctors were on duty at the moment. She looked at Yeoman Teep , still working away at the problem Gwen had tasked him to perform.

"Get out of here, Teep. Go find your teddy bear and sleep....."

Gwen nodded at teep to stay behind the computer. “Joli…” She just said.

"What?!"

Anjoli bit off the nasty words she wanted to spew forth.

"Teep's been here just as long as me. He needs to take a break as badly as anyone..."

Teep cautiously raised his hand.

"Ummm....I've actually been to sleep. Twice."

Anjoli just let her hand sink into the palm of her hand.

“Everybody but you has been taking their breaks, doc. So off to bed with you, now.” Gwen tapped her foot.

Anjoli, shoulders slumped in total defeat, made her way out the door of sickbay.

Gwen followed. She did not see this as a victory and she would be there to put Joli to bed and to comfort her till she slept. She was due for a short break herself again.

The pair moved slowly towards the turbolift Once aboard, Anjoli just leaned her head back against the padded wall, and said nothing. The turbolift didn't budge until Gwen finally gave the order.

"Captain Summers is dead...." Anjoli said weakly. "I could have saved him, but the transporters were down."

"You can't save everybody." Gwen said softly. Strange, beforehand she would have thought she would be the one breaking down and needing a shoulder. "And you badly need some sleep to get a clear head again." She embraced her girlfriend.

Anjoli held on loosely to Gwen . Her head seemed full of steel wool and cotton.

She didn't say anything else until the pair arrived at their quarters..

"You weren't in the war, were you?" Anjoli asked.

“No, you know I wasn't. I am terrible with violence and blood.” Gwen stroked her bed as she led Joli to the bedroom.

"You did wonderfully during this fiasco....and this is but the beginning. A new war is upon us all, with new enemies and ways to render death and suffering."

Anjoli sat numbly on the bed and shook her head.

"And these Hydrans...using beasts from the very abyss of space itself....they are thrice cursed. May the Great Mother protect us all from such horrific leviathans."

“We will fight. It is what the federation has always done.” Gwen kissed her gently. “Now lay back, sweetheart, you need to get some sleep.”

Anjoli fell back onto the bed, her eyes staring upwards. Her voice trembled, and she didn't sound like herself at all. Even her accent was gone.

"There is a great darkness coming....and there shall be no dawn. Only the Time's champion and the mother with two lives can turn defeat into victory."

With that declaration, Anjoli fell completely limp. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft snore escaped her lips. Gwen was worried, for a long time she sat there watching Joli and gently stroking her hair. Then she covered the emerald woman up and got up to return to work.

"Khadamia...." came a soft voice in the darkness.

The Terran was surprised. “I thought you were sleeping, sweet.” Gwendolyn said returning softly and sitting down on the bed again.

"Can...you stay for a while? Please?"

“Sure, I am still on my break. I needed some rest as well.”

She lay down and took Joli in her arms. Anjoli sighed and curled around Gwen .

"I just need to remember the warmth of love....before the coming of shadows."

"You are just tired and a little bit depressed." Gwendolyn gently stroked her. "You will see that it looks different in the morning."

Anjoli nodded without answer, and in seconds was fast asleep once more. Gwen lay next to her for a while to make sure Joli was really asleep this time. Then she tiptoed out of the room and back to work.

"Father in law"

Captain Roberto Montoya

Anjoli D'Bari

Gwen Parri

Captain Roberto Montoya awoke in a sickbay. He'd seen enough of them in his career, and they all looked alike on the most basic level. Beds with sick people, worried caregivers hovering nearby, and the strong smell of antiseptic.

He reached up to touch his face, and was gratified to feel the new skin over the bubbled burn he's gotten during the battle with the Hydrans. The memories of the last battle of the late great USS Agamemnon came rushing back to him. So many of his crew perished, and so quickly too.

He remembered his wife's face, frightened and screaming in the what was left of the Agamemnon's bridge in those last seconds in the battle against he Hydran leviathan. He didn't know her fate. In all truth, he might never know for certain. But in his heart of hearts, she had to be alive. She had to be.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Every time she had a break Gwendolyn either ate and slept, or she came to see how Captain Montoya was doing. Because of the pain they had kept him sedated for a long time.

"A little woosy, thank you for asking."

His hand gingerly touched his ribs. The splintered ribs and collapsed lung had been repaired by the Miranda medical team, but there would be days to recover. The skull fracture would take as long to heal.

"I'm breathing better now....is there any word about my crew?"

“I am afraid I can't give you much good news sir. Everything is so chaotic that we can't be sure. You were the only one picked up by our ship. There might be others we don't know that escaped.” She took his hand again and squeezed. “We are looking.”

Roberto nodded, giving her a grateful look. He tried not to think of his comrades and wife of being in hostile hands.

"Starfleet has a lot on it's plate. If there are survivors, they'll be found given enough time."

“yes they will. It will be given high priority, believe me.” She smiled at him.

"Do you have a few minutes to talk, Gwen ? I know you must be busy...."

“I have time, sir. I am on a break period. And it isn't as frantic here as it used to be. I am all here for you.”

Motoya pointed towards a chair.

"Then have a seat, please. Now...Anjoli....how is she handling this? She was a resilent young girl...but I also know that doctors in a war zone can pay a steep price."

Gwen knew she had to be honest to him. “Not very, sir. She is taking it very badly, but I am keeping an eye on her. She is a bit depressed, don't worry I will look after both of you.” She gave him some water to sip.

Roberto took the offered water, but clearly his mind was elsewhere.

"I won't be a burden for long. After Starfleet's board of inquiry, I'll be reassigned. I was the Captain of the Agamemnon for over twenty years. I know Starfleet won't waste any officer worth a damn with a war on...but it won't ever be the same."

He was quiet for a long moment, his thoughts of his lost comrades.

"The Agamemnon....was a special ship. A lot of the crew had been with me for many years. Some were even children of former crew that had served with me long ago."

She held his hand. “I know.” Gwen whispered. “Don't rush into anything sir.

Give yourself time to heal, and talk to someone.”

Roberto nodded.

"Time is a luxury we no longer have, Gwen . The Hydrans could be within forty light years of Terra in days, and if we cannot do a better job against the Starbeast....Earth may be the next to fall."

“Then talk to me now if you have the strength.” She told him. “I am still a psychologist.”

Roberto gave her a pained smile.

"I'll be all right, Gwen .  I've been captain for a long time. This isn't the first time I've taken a hit or two."

“But you lost a lot of people dear to you. And we don't know about your wife yet.” She said gently, watching his reaction.

" Gwen ...I've served in Starfleet for nearly forty years, thirty as Captain. I've seen more wars than I care to think about right now. I've lost friends and family before this."

His face is calm despite the grief in his eyes. However, there's no agonizing pain keeping him from getting up and serving aboard a ship. 

She held his hand. “Really? You are taking this better then Joli, sir.”

"You will understand in time, Gwen . Anasta and I have been bonded for so long, she will always be a part of me. Even if the worst comes to be, and she is lost forever, she will literally be a part of me for the rest of my days."

His finger tapped the bloodgold ring on Gwen 's hand.

"Now that Anjoli's taken this step....you'll know for certain. If you part, you will long for her...but she will also be *with* you. It's difficult to explain. It must be experienced to truly understand."

Gwen blushed. “You noticed. We were going to tell you soon…. We want to marry, sir.”

He smiled wistfully, his own eyes going to his own ring.

"Anasta knew you were the one, after our initial meeting. She could see it in Anjoli's eyes. It took me a few more days of talking with you. It was clear that there was more to your relationship than a casual fling."

Gwendolyn swallowed hard.  “I thought she didn't like me at all at first.  I thought you were the one who liked me from the start, sir."

Roberto chuckled half heartedly.

"Anasta wears her emotions on her sleeve, Gwen . She might have known Anjoli was in love with you, but Arrin'Haleri mothers can be....overprotective."

“That I notice. We didn't have the best of starts.” She could not help but laugh at the memory.

"So you approve?”

Roberto gave her hand a squeeze and a reassuring smile.

"Absolutely. But...my blessing is not as important as Anasta's. Let's hope you get the chance to ask her."

“Yes, I would like that very much. Her approval is very important to me and to Joli.”

"Papa?" came a quiet voice from the doorway.

Anjoli stood there, a mask of a calm smile over her face. She walked closer and took her father's free hand on the other side of Gwen .

"I see you've been getting reacquainted with Gwen ....."

“I have been taking care of him as his doctor.” Gwen said smiling at both of them. “Your dad is doing very well.”

"Then I know you have the best of care....."

Roberto gave his daughter's hand a squeeze.

"Kermit....she'll be fine," clearly meaning Anjoli's missing mother.

With the sound of her father's childhood nickname for her, Anjoli's fragile mask of calm began to splinter. She covered her mouth to keep from crying.

Roberto tried to reassure his daughter, when his own feelings were nearly as

fragile.

"You mother in the hands of the Great Mother...you know that. Have faith, Anjoli."

Anjoli nodded, but it offered little comfort at the moment.

Gwen couldn't look at it without acting. She embraced her friend gently.

“She is so loved, sweet, she can't be gone.”

"This is a test...of my faith." Anjoli said softly. "I must be strong for her. It's tbe only way to keep her safe...."

The Welshwoman squeezed her shoulders. Anything to keep Joli going. “Hon, I think your dad needs to rest now.”

Anjoli nodded and turned away from her father for the moment. She looked back at the door and gave him a shaky smile.

"You need anything, ask. I've got a few connections on this tub..."

Roberto smiled softly, giving her a wink.

"That's my girl...."

Gwen watched her go and came to her feet herself. “She will be fine, dad.”

She said softly.

Roberto nodded, his hand rubbing his jaw.

"We all have work to do. She'll get her share done, rest assured."

“I am more worried that she will do too much. I have had to made her rest already.  Like all doctors in times of need she has difficulty looking after herself.”

"And you've been elected her tender, eh?" Roberto nodded. "Well...she's always tried to make up for lost time. I hope you have more success at slowing her down than others have."

“I did get her to rest yesterday. None of her staff could get her to listen.

I just worry so much about her when she gets like that, depressed and so tired.” Gwen stared off into nothing. “I love her so much.”

Roberto touched her forearm.

"Don't coddle her too much. She's strong, don't misunderstand, but she's a chief now. She has to learn we all have limits--even her."

“But…. I …… I want to protect her, sir. She might be a chief but she needs someone.”

"That's fine...behind closed doors. But she needs to learn to lead effectively. She can't do that if you're coddling her. She might screw up, true....but short of having her injure someone or herself, you need to let her fail. Otherwise she'll rely upon you too much. Then...when you might be gone, she would truly be in dire straights."

“I will try.” She sighed. “I should get back to work, is there anything I can get you?”

"Yes. You get some rest, and when you return I'll tell you a story about Anjoli. You think she is a handful now, just you wait. She's mellowed."

"I will hold you to that, sir." Gwen grinned kissed him on the forehead and left.

"Straight to work"

(Brevet) Cpt. Brian Elessidil

CO, USS Exeter

Lt SG Gwen Parri, Acting CMO USS Exeter

After finish up his conversation with Miramon, Brian made a point of making the rounds in sickbay to personally check on some of the more badly injured crew. There were far more than he'd hoped, or maybe it just seemed that way because they were all in one area. Either way, it was clear the medical staff had a lot to handle.

The new captain was a little concerned about the Exeter's CMO. Dr.

Panin, a fellow Betazoid, was clearly competent, something that was immediately apparent from speaking with him. What concerned Brian was the obvious severity of the injuries the doctor himself had taken during the battle. From what he'd learned, the doctor was near one of the primary power relays nearest sickbay when it was blown by Hydran fighter fire. Consequently, Panin had received cuts and abrasions from flying debris -- some of which appeared quite serious from Elessidil's non-medical perspective -- as well as some obviously serious electrical burns along one side of his body. Still, understanding the Exeter's situation, the doctor had set aside his own needs to tend to those who in his opinion were far worse off. For now, Brian decided not to question his decision.

Gwen had intended to go the bridge to report to the new captain, but a crewman had told her the bridge was badly damaged and the captain was making his rounds anyway and could now be found in sickbay. It suited her well as that was where she would be working anyway.

She recognised him from pictures. Gwen knew that Brian had been a councilor of the Miranda once. So she approached him.

"Captain, Lieutenant Parri reporting for duty."

Brian had just finished speaking with one of the attending medics and turned to respond to the voice. Parri . . . he had to think for a moment; with the swirl of names of the Exeter's crew and other officers in the fleet going through his head, it took him a moment to recall that she was the officer the Miranda promised to send over.

She was a medically trained counselor, a combination of skills that he could really use around here.

"Thank you for agreeing to lend a hand, Lieutenant. As you can see, we really need it," he said, gesturing slightly around the room. The Exeter's medical staff have been going non-stop since we left Romulus."

"Right... captain. Tell me where you need me. You may know you can use me in medical or counseling, or both," she said firmly.

"For now, I think your medical skills are what we have the greater need for. But specifically where wouldn't be my-"

Just as Brian was about to explain that it would be Dr. Panin's call as to where he'd want to use Gwen, he was interrupted by a commotion across the room. Several medics were gathered in a clump, a couple scurrying for supplies.

"Captain," one of them called out, "It's Doctor Panin. He just collapsed."

It was not the kind of news Brian needed to hear right now. He dashed over to where Panin had fallen.

"He's alive," one of the medics reported as he waved a medical tricorder over the doctor. "But he's dehydrated and...it looks like he's suffering from some sort of toxic shock to his system. Probably an allergic reaction to something that hit him and got into his bloodstream when that relay blew."

Seeing the hesitation of the very tired staff Gwen sprang into action immediately, she had been doing triage work the last couple of days and taking charge was what she was used at right now.

"Right, people. Let's get him on a bed. Nurse started an IV with saline.

"She looked at one of the technicians. "What was in the pipes when they blew?" She helped while the other nurses get the CMO's uniform off and making him more comfortable.

Elessidil was already impressed with the lieutenant's performance. He stepped back out of the way to let the medical professionals to their job.

"It was a power relay," one of the medics replied. "He suffered mostly plasma burns and a few serious cuts from pieces of the casing."

"Probably some of the system coolant got into his bloodstream,"

another added. "It's know to be toxic in many cases."

"Right let's make sure that we get it out of his system now!" She ordered the nurses to administer the antidote quickly hoping to save the CMO's life.

Right now he was in a very bad way.

Seeing that the team had the situation under control, Brian called Gwen over to him. "Lieutenant, that was well done. We can't afford to lose another experienced officer, so I'd like you to take charge of things in sickbay for now and keep an especially close watch on the doctor." It was good to know that the Miranda still had some fine officers in its crew.

Gwen looked surprised, but pleased as well. She liked a shot at command even if it was not the department she thought it would be happening. "Right sir.

You can count on me. I will do my best to get your CMO back on his feet."

"Thank you," Elessidil answered, smiling slightly. "We will likely have a senior staff meeting sometime in the next several hours.

Please attend." With that, Brian turned and left sickbay in the Lieutenant's capable hands and moved on to his next challenge.

"Should I go or should I stay"

Anjoli

Gwen

"You sure you don't mind?” Gwen asked uncertain. “I mean I could still back out and stay here.” She looked worried.  The Exeter needed people and she wanted to help there but she felt bad about leaving Joli like this.

Anjoli shook her head quickly.

"You're doing the right thing. The Exeter needs you. Remember...the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or does it go the other way? I can't remember."

“And yet I feel bad. I feel like I am doing this for my career and not for you..” She turned and embraced Joli. “tell me to stay.”

Anjoli softly cupped Gwen 's cheek, her dark eyes gleaming.

"I want you to stay."

Her finger softly traced Gwen 's lips, as if trying to memorize their perfection.

"But you need to go. Your career means nothing to me at the moment. Frankly, no one's career matters right now. But the people on that ship need the best doctor they can have. And that's you, Khadamia."

“It isn't, I am a psychologist first and you know it. And you need someone to look after you right now, sweet.” She was seriously doubting her spontaneous decision to go.

"You're the best candidate. I wouldn't allow it otherwise. Star and Ben have dependent children aboard the Miranda. Katara's part of the Hazard Team, Tymm and Ventar are needed for surgery aboard the Miranda....."

"And let's face it. You're too well rounded and useful. You can act as both counselor and physician....and when space is at a premium, one person that can do two jobs is as valuable as latinum."

“Are you absolutely sure.” Gwen looked at her. “Promise me that you will not do anything stupid while I am away?”

"Me? Do something stupid? Perish the thought."

Anjoli gazed into Gwen 's eyes.

"That doesn't mean I won't miss you. You just remember to keep that sweet bottom of yours under a desk when things get rough."

Gwen grinned. “we will talk every day, yes? And I will give Teep strict orders to look after you.”

"You leave my yeoman alone. He's mine to break, not yours. Besides, you make it sound like I'm terribly fragile. I'll be surrounded by this big starbase with warp engines. I'll be fine. Trust me. And yes, I'll comm you every day...I might even make a special private message for you if you're a good little Terran."

Gwen hugged her again. Joli had been so depressed lately and then the situation with her mum. She hated having to leave. “Call me any time when you need to, allright, love? Promise me.”

"I promise. I'll eat all my vegetables and wash behind my ears and change my underwear--at least when I wear it, I'll be sure they're clean. But I want you to do the same. Remember what Arel taught you, and get the frack out of the way if something shoots at you."

“I will. I will just keep my nose down, and help their CMO just like am helping you.  Or maybe they will put me in counselling.  And will see and I will be careful.”  She kissed Joli.

Anjoli warmly kissed Gwen , knowing it could be a very long time before then would again. Anjoli held onto Gwen with both arms and put all of her feelings into that one kiss. As usual they ended on the floor forgetting about all else around them for a while.

"Hope you were done packing...."Anjoli murmured.

"Elemental"

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

= The Fire Temple =

= Romulus =

Once, long ago, this place had a name.

Once, in these ruins, the Rihan had worshiped the Elements.

Once, in this forgotten valley, this desolate site had been a place of hope.

Where there had once been thousands, however, there was now only one. A dark, lonely figure among broken columns, dripping wet in the brutal rain that reigned over Romulus this day. Why did he wander here, so far from the camps of the other civilians, all fleeing from the Hydrans while the warriors among them stood and fought and died? There was nothing remaining of the old days in the prayer hall. There were no images, no statutes, no icons spared by the ravishing gaze of time and the cruel touch of the very Elements that had once been worshipped here.

And yet, Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen, felt that if there was any kind of divine being, any source of life greater than himself, then it was here, in this place, now. Why he felt sentience in the merciless rain, in the furious wind, in the grim tempest, he could not say...but he smiled at the rage of his world, and he recognized in that rage something of himself, yet larger, untamed.... Perhaps it was only his imagination...he had, after all, always been accused of being too steeped in the Ways of Old.

tr'Ahalaen, however, did not pray or beg or scream out accusations. He stood still, the raging elements swirling about him, and was silent.

He knew that if he spoke here, his voice would be a whisper fierce with the rage of the innocent. And he wanted to speak. He wanted to know what his people had done wrong, to have their liberty, their pride, wretched from them in this manner. He wanted to speak, because despite the fact that he had never knelt in prayer, despite the fact that he was faithlessness, a small part of him still believed. Would always believe.

Quiet.

For the first time in the history of this ancient place, the Rihannsu said nothing and the Elements spoke.

Aerv wanted to scream a heartrending scream that would echo through the deserted temple for an eternity and more. He wanted to challenge the thick, tangible air of this place, to shatter its serenity. He wanted to declare himself again, to let the universe know that he was here, to let this world feel that it's son felt the rage it felt. He wanted to be at one with the Elements.

Yet that was not his nature. Aerv tr'Ahalaen had never yelled his throat dry and raw. He had made a life out of cultivating culture, out of being more than the primal darkness that had always dwelt deep within him, a taint on his soul. And now, though his world had fallen and lay broken, though he had been forced from his home and was an exile on his own land, he remained true to himself.

So he stood before the gods of his people, his silence eloquent and beautiful.

In this clamoring peace, Aerv thought he felt something, like the eye of the world was upon him. Perhaps because of the nature of this place, he could not ignore that feeling and he looked back, and found indeed that he was not alone. A woman with sapphire eyes was behind him, her golden hair drenched in the downpour.

"Who?" Aerv asked, turning around, his voice hoarse. When the woman stepped forward, her movements fluid and graceful, he smiled, "Ah...Faith. You have come to find me."

Her gaze betrayed a moment of surprise, and she stopped, and her eyes fell. Standing and staring at the strewn rubble as if he was nothing more than a lone pillar in the temple, her voice cracked. "I don't know this place..."

"Neither do I...but that is because this place no longer knows itself."

His voice focused her for a brief moment, and she crossed her arms, hugging her chest tightly. She was wearing a Starfleet uniform, but the jacket was gone, along with her communication badge. A surge of panic contorted her face as she shot looks one way and the other. "I don't... this place. I don't know. Oh God..." she crouched close to the ground, still clutching herself tightly, and he recognized in those sapphire eyes the weight of memory.

tr'Ahalaen had seen such faces, such eyes before. He knelt beside her, the first Rihana to do so on this ground for a long time. Mysticism no longer interested him, however, this moment now was about Faith.

He spoke, his voice gentle but firm, searching for that place in this woman's mind where years of military training had programmed a condition response. Those were the kinds of flimsy structures people drew comfort from during war. "Report, Ensign Skylark."

She stared through him, and then at him. Head still at an angle, she studied him with ocean blue eyes unblinkingly. When she finally did, a look of reprisal settled onto her face. "You're Romulan."

"Yes," he gave her one of those famous, charming smiles of his, "Quintessentially, in fact."

"What are you doing here?" she asked insistently. "This place is a ruin. It's dangerous. They could be through here at any moment. We have to move." She stood up and looked around, expecting to see danger

all around. Wiping the water from her eyes and studying the

surrounding land, she took a few bold steps toward the perimeter, then awkwardly circled back. "Do you, uh..." she stopped and look looked at him apologetically, "know which way to go?"

His obsidian eyes studied her intently for a moment, then he nodded.

"Yes - well, actually, I suppose it depends on where you want to go.

There is a camp of civilian refugees...."

"Let's go there," she interrupted.

"However," tr'Ahalaen continued smoothly, as if he had not been interrupted, "In these conditions, in the darkness, the path to it has probably become impassable."

"Probably?"

"Ah...a poor choice of words on my part.... Until the new dawn, we should look for some kind of shelter." He paused, and when she said nothing he cleared his throat, "I am open to suggestions on the matter."

Skylark frowned at him, shifting her weight nervously and scanning the area with wide unblinking eyes. "What insight are you expecting from me? You're the native." She stopped and looked back at him. "Sorry.

That came out wrong."

"The truth often does," tr'Ahalaen replied with a quick smile, "I am afraid that I had not anticipated this rain. The weather systems must be...malfunctioning." He shook his head, "This will not do, of course.

While our situation is wonderfully barbaric, it is also quite uncomfortable."

She looked him over. "You look like a man of influence and skill.

Which is unfortunate..."

Aerv raised an eyebrow at her in askance. A gesture that - like all Vulcan gestures - he rather enjoyed using.

The woman shrugged helplessly, offering a modest smile. "I'm a poor judge of character."

It was one of those typically human remarks that tr'Ahalaen had never quite gotten used to. Humans, for a species that had no telepathic abilities, had the annoying habit of believing that everyone around them understood the context or meaning of their comments without any elaboration at all. It often left the more intelligent creatures of the galaxy, in his opinion, wondering what exactly the Terrans were babbling about.

The silence that followed, however, gave him a moment to think. The temple was truly and firmly within the wilderness. The rites here must have involved some kind of journey to this place for the worshipers.

From how far away did his ancestors walk to kneel before the Elements and be blessed by the priests....

tr'Ahalaen suddenly laughed softly. "But of course...the priests and holy men who lived here, they must have had some home. Come, my dear, it is time we become pilgrims, you and I."

= Fire Temple Catacombs =

= Romulus =

Somewhere, deep underground, a narrow tunnel gave way to a larger space.

The two strangers cautiously stepped through the threshold, and Aerv examined grooves in the wall that had held torches for his more ascetic ancestors. The Starfleet ensign looked to each side, then waved her palm over a panel just inside the room. A soft ambient light slowly encompassed the width of the room, chasing away the shadows.

"Incredible," tr'Ahalaen whispered, shaking his head at dim, flickering lights that had come to life around them. He was not referring, of course, to the damp, cold stone walls of the place, or the dirty, tattered remains of what once might have been sleeping rugs and pottery on the ground. These were, after all, the dwelling halls of hermits.

What was incredible, of course, was the fact that any man made devices - such as the lights - had survived the decayed grasp of time.

"Smells like home," the young woman said, with no trace of sarcasm in her voice. She stepped over a jutting stone and crossed the room to carefully push up a torn wall-hanging with ancient Rihannsu characters displayed on it. She let out a breath. "How old is this place?"

"Old enough to have memories," Aerv replied, pulling a disruptor out from inside his black tunic, "And to have lost them." He paused to examine the weapon, made some adjustments, and looked up at the slender human woman again. "Anyway... the past is prologue, as you humans say... right now, however, I would suggest that you strip."

Skylark studied the tapestry for another moment, then acknowledged him with a faint "right," and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back and out of the way. She stepped around the corner and began to peel off the wet uniform. "I suggest you avoid warming up the rock along the walls. It's porous."

Aerv regarded his weapon suspiciously, "And that means...."

"Disruptors and concentrated pockets of gas do not mix well."

"Brilliant," tr'Ahalaen sighed, dropping his weapon to the ground. For a moment, he paused and watched Elissa's beautiful shadow on the far wall as she undressed herself.

With a shake of his head, he began to take off his own tunic, and then stopped. He was always uncomfortable exposing his scars - so many scars

- to women. Many of them did not understand why a man so obsessed with beauty would harbor such faults, when they were so easily corrected.

Still, though he knew Elissa Skylark, she did not know him. So there would be no questions, no desperate search for answers he did not have....

A bundle of wet clothes landed next to the weapon. "Could you?" asked her disembodied voice.

Aerv blinked, confused, and stared at the discarded clothing. "Could I?"

"The ground is fine. Warm up the ground and dry my clothes. I don't really want to stand naked in the shadows any longer than is absolutely necessary."

Aerv laughed softly, "Do you realize who I am? Dry your clothes? How ridiculous. Besides, that would take all night. I am carrying a Type Three Disruptor."

The darkness sighed. She peered around the corner. "That was pretty poor foresight. Oh." Modesty wasn't a trait the two of them shared, and even she forgot herself when taking in the shape of his well-toned musculature. She noticed the scars just visible where his tunic parted, and couldn't bring herself to look away.

"Given that this is a war, a weapon with a stun setting seemed... like a waste." His dark eyes caught her blue gaze and held it for a moment, "Unless you are hideously deformed in some unexpected way, I would urge you to come out."

"I'm naked."

"And?"

Her head disappeared behind the wall again. "And I'm naked."

"Are you scared of me?"

"Remember when I told you I was a poor judge of character?"

tr'Ahalaen laughed, "My dear... let me assure you, I am above that kind of... violence. I worship beauty, I do not make it weep. And you - you of all people, Elissa, have nothing to fear from me."

"No, see, the problem is I feel like I can trust you."

"Ah... well, in that case, I am an absolute villain. A scoundrel, if you will, who cannot be trusted. Is that better?"

"Let me put it this way: I feel like I can trust you. But there are two problems." A hand appeared with her index finger pointing up.

"One, the person I'm inclined to trust is a Romulan dignitary." A second finger raised. "Two, he's a man." Another finger. "Three, we're both naked." All but one now. "Four, the most logical means to avoid hypothermia involves a certain level of intimacy that, in our present state, could lead to all sorts of poor judgments."

"Who am I to argue with logic?" tr'Ahalaen replied with a wry smile.

There was a silence that felt longer than it actually was, after which Aerv began to speak, his voice now ringing with that quiet intensity that was unique to him, like the sound of many waters.

"You know... I saw you once before - there was some kind of conference near the Typhon Sector. It must have been... seven years ago." He stopped and sighed, forlorn, "Seven years - they can last a life time...

especially if you are Vulcan.... I was so young, trapped by duty, bound to the military, taking orders for the first time in my life. Whatever little freedom I had previously enjoyed in my life was taken from me.

"And then I saw you... this sylph of a human girl, with golden hair and... the, may I just say, the most amazing clavicle - and a gentle laugh, along with this passionate mind, that was set on these incredible ideas that were - I must admit - a little beyond me. I heard you present a paper with some old human at your side, and I thought...

'Elements, I must have her. I must be her - for this girl, she is truly free.' And then I learned your name, and I understood... after all, 'you can muffle the drum, and you can loose the strings of the lyre, but who will command the skylark not to sing?'"

tr'Ahalaen leaned back against a wall and allowed his legs to fold underneath him, "And the beautiful thing was, you knew nothing of this - nothing even of your freedom, or your beauty - you just *were*. How I envied you. And the years went by, and of course, I never saw you again

- but whenever I felt the bonds of this world force me onto paths that were not my choice, I thought always of the skylark."

"And now my world has fallen, and hope is fading... and, when for the first time in my life, I stood before the gods, and wondered how this had happened, what I should do, what I should think, who I was to be. I heard no answers. I felt a great darkness upon me... and then," he laughed softly, "You were there. Faith... you and I, here this night...

it is the culmination of a beautiful pattern, you see? It is a holy thing, this is the soul of the universe - and though I might desire it, I will take from it nothing more than is given freely, for it has proven itself generous."

She didn't say anything at first, and all that could be heard were the distant howls of the winds on the surface. When she stepped out from the corner, her arms covered her still, clinging to her modesty.

"Five," she finally said, "creepy stalker talk." The words were irreverent, but her tone was no longer guarded. She crouched in front of him and carefully grabbed her clothes, holding them while studying him. "I was going to ask how you knew my name, but I thought the answer would be more... I don't know... sinister?"

tr'Ahalaen made no secret of the fact that his eyes were drinking in her form, but despite the beauty before him, the words caught his attention enough to make him laugh. "Very sorry to have disappointed you."

Elissa smiled, her face flush; she was no longer hiding the emotions

that had been playing in her eyes. "You haven't." She looked away,

toward the far wall. Then, suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Igneous!"

"What?"

Skylark looked at him flatly. "You know. Basalt, pumice, dacite, granite. Over there," she nodded with her head and clung to the damp uniform. "I'm not pointing."

tr'Ahalaen rose to his feet. "Volcanic rocks?"

She nodded. "How far does this place extend?

tr'Ahalaen shrugged, "I have no idea - I have never been here before."

"Where there are volcanoes, even dormant ones, there are heat vents,"

she explained, standing slowly to keep herself covered.

"Indeed? Perhaps then we should explore this place further," Aerv knelt to pick up his weapon, and looked back at her over his shoulder, "I do not suppose you would be interested in leading the way."

She shook her head and gave him an admonishing look. "Let the sacrifices I make in the name of science not be forgotten." Her gaze leveled sharply at him. "Or repeated to another living soul." Turning, she marched into the caverns.

tr'Ahalaen stood watching, quite happy to enjoy the view as she walked away from him. Before he began to follow her gently swaying hips further into the unknown, however, he looked up at the ceiling as if it represented the heavens, "I...wh...you.... You know...never mind," he told the Elements, "We can talk later."

= End Log =

"Duty and Honor"

By

Senator tr'Khnialmnae,
Rihannsu Senator-at-Large

Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

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

3 Days Before Zero Hour

Ra'tleihfi, ch'Rihan

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

Duty is an intriguing creature, Senator tr'Khnialmnae mused as he strode through the medical complex. He had direct authorization, the mouth of no less, from both the Praetor and the Empress, to request further assistance of any and all measures from the Federation, yet somehow he had been stalled. There were those within both divisions of the Senate, that is to say those who hadn't run like cowards, that felt his time wouls be better spent furthering their own aims. The Empire itself, not to mention their very home was facing impending doom and they still bickered and squabbled amongst themselves. They had twisted their sense of duty towards the wrong ends, and thus the Elements had decreed that the Empire was to be humbled, if not destroyed.

Making a left, the Senator spied the individual he had been trying to meet with since he had publicly resumed his rightful place within the Senate. Kylar Curran, a Kelvan. Currently acting as official representative of the United Federation of Planets, despite a dispute internal to his race which stemmed from his current physical infirmity. "Jolan'tru, Kiitha Curran. I apologize for the delay in our meeting with each other. It is unfortunate that even though our world is on the brink of falling from the heavens there are still those of my fellow Senators who would see to their own personal safety or gain, though at times I cannot fault them for it."

Looking up from his place, but not standing, from an open cubicle facing the entryway to the library/lounge, he took stock of the owner of the voice who called him by name using a courtesy the diplomat longer enjoyed amongst the Federation military arm of Starfleet. Vice-Legate Curran lay down the PADD he had been musing over since being granted access to external information sources. The media on ch'Rihan was as usual being quite efficient at reporting happenings that were coming fast and furious almost hourly, even if disjointed. Curran firmly believed the government had lost control of the propaganda machines and couldn't keep its intelligence and internal reportings segregated from the public any longer. He also believed much of the information coming through the news outlets, the Senate wasn't even aware of. The Tal Shiar must certainly be scrambling to recover. The new RNI would be enjoying the inevitable discrediting the former would be experiencing now.

"Jolan'tru, Senator," Curran admired the other's audacity at announcing his position and status in a world that must be about to turn on its leaders - mostly for abandoning them to the barbarians about to come tear away all that they knew. For not even making any attempt at relocating them. Anger and resentment would overcome the logic of no longer having any large scale colny transports ships available after all; they aren't Vulcans.

"I hadn't expected a Senator of your senior status, since most have left the planet already. I do not know you, though. Were you recently promoted?"

Aehkhifv Donar tr'Khnialmnae shook his head negatively. "No, though many of those still remaining would rather I had not become a Senator at all. I've been more than preoccupied with more pressing affairs of state than the trivvial squabblings of the politica body that is the Senate. They do some good when it serves their purpose, which is why I am here, and not any of them."

"I hope you didn't experience any troubles on your way here. The crowds are rather restless out on the streets. Many are leaving the city for the hills." He shook his head. "There will be nowhere safe on this planet, I'm afraid."

*Your words speak of a truth you do not yet know of,* Aehkhifv though as he allowed the kelvan to continue.

"I had taken the liberty of coming to you, but the remnants of the Senate had little time for me. The debating and politicking over trivial matters took precedence to my representation, and none would present me with your itinerary or schedule of appearances."

Aehkhifv chortled merrily. "That's because I don't have any such Itinerary. Though many Senators claim that their work is for the people they represent, very few can uphold such a claim, and seldom is such evidence honest and truth." The aged Rihannsu pulled up and empty chair and slowly lowered himself down into it. "I have been absent of the political bickering and infighting of the Senate for the past decade, working personally with those that I represent in Council. The propaganda machine has seen to it that my works have gone largely unnoticed, a fact that I have seen as a blessing: publicity is not always a good thing.

"But I digress. Though you have been petitioning to be heard by the Senate, I'm afraid the tables have been turned quite suddenly. No doubt you have taken note of the sudden lack of control in the output of the Media, and correctly deduced that the government no longer has the grip on her people that it once held. The 2nd Galae was destroyed recently, as have the third, fourth, and seventh Galae's. The Hydran fleet is on a direct path for this system, and the populace has found out, hence the current state of public affairs. I have been directed by Praetor Hitan AND Empress t'Vriesu to request any further aid from the Federation as is possible." Aehkhifv looked Curran in the eyes.

"Any other Senator would have died before making such a request; even the Doves that haven't run feel the same way. Such is the gravity of our current situation that even with venerable officers such as M'Kantu and Summers and their respected crews at our sides, there is little hope for success within the Rihannsu Senate."

The Kelvan tapped his fingers against the side of the desk. For a Rihannsu to come out so bluntly spoke volumes of the gravity of the situation, and confirmed to him that what he was being told was either out of necessity by a government who would continue to put on a brave face by skirting in dark alleys to attend to their needs, or this tr'Khellian was taking on the responsibility on his own.

Either way, the government still came out looking credible, and this Senator would either be a scapegoat for failure, or swiftly forgotten when it came time to assuming credit for victory.

"I take it the Senate does not want our discussion and settlements a matter of public record, do they?"

"This is an official request," Aehkhifv returned without missing a beat, "for any and all aid possible from the Federation. We aren't interested in terms, information exchanges, prisoner exchanges. We are standing at the brink of the forseable death of our civilization and our way of life. That is paramount above all other concerns.

What happens after this crisis is resolved," he shook his head. "I believe that would be best left for when such concerns are no longer premature."

*****

Present Day,
VIP Observation Lounge,
IRV Llaiir Jorrah,
23 veraku out from ch'Rihan

Kylar Curran thought back to the conversation he'd had with tr'Khellian so long ago on the former jewel of the Empire, rubbing his bruised chin with one hand, tucking the other underneath the crook of the former.

They'd escaped ch'Rihan with the majority of the remaining Senate approximately one Earth day previous, barely escaping as the encroaching Hydrans had blanketed the planet with the might of their forces. Donatra's ship had been engaged in combat operations so she had not been able to take on the passengers, though she'd made preparations in advance to secure passage for the Llaiir Jorrah - the Praetor's personal Warbird - by laying out cloaked mines along the path of the escape trajectory, and providing coverage as it burned out of the planet's gravity well and into warp dangerously close to ch'Rihan. Not that it mattered; the planet was lost.

Scorching the Earth as they left and depriving the Hydrans of at least a portion of the planet's resources was a minor price to pay. The souls lost when the atmosphere was ripped into subspace and the vacuum that filled the remains with turmoil and desolation was something that sickened the Kelvan to a degree, but necessary and he knew it.

It was a much more humane method of ending their lives with dignity than as slaves, experiments, or pets of the Hydran Sovereignty.

Still, he felt he had desecrated all that remained of his own dignity by leaving the planet when he was honor-bound to stay, and the battle that raged in planetary orbit. Now, he stared out an aft window, hoping in a small way that a Hydran battlecruiser would drop out of warp and engage them in battle.

But it didn't happen. A full day's travel, and nothing had pursued.

Donatra's sacrifices had done their duty. As he should have on Romulus.

He wondered if he had done what the Senate had asked of him. Was it enough?

Would he be welcome in whatever territory the Rihannsu called home after this failure? Or would he be the scapegoat with tr'Khellian?

“BLACKHAWK DOWN”

With Ensign Soval, Interrogations Specialist, USS MIRANDA and “Captain" Leo Streely, USS GALAXY.

Location: The crash site of the runabout BLACKHAWK

Previously: On their way back to the USS MIRANDA, Ensign Soval and the GALAXY's Leo Streely find their shuttle besieged with mechanical failures. The shuttle craft crashed deep in the heart of C'chon, one of Romulus' densly populated suburbs. While Leo and Soval regain their bearings, crazed, rioting Romulans attack the shuttle forcing the duo to defend themselves.

Leo Streely was terrified.

What seemed like a lifetime ago, he had swindled his way onboard the USS Galaxy as a reporter for one of the Federation's less reputable tabloids. From that moment he had encountered danger time and time again.

He was there when Cardassian war criminal Gul Madred schemed for the fabled Stone of Tears at Delcia IV. He had fought the Sanguinarian vampires, battled back invading Borg drones and was subjugated with the rest of the crew by the Hirogen.

He had to deal with ghosts, changelings, organized crime, his own clone, his heritage as a son of a Q, the traitorous Chris Thomas and his bastard son Wikkins and watched as a Yiridian nearly killed his best friend.

Yet he had always remained optimistic that victory would be snatched from the jaws of defeat. Raven Darkstar would loom his way and dispatch the bad guys with a wave of his mighty fist. The genius of the Galaxy and her crew would always prevail.

No matter how dire things looked, he always had a joke at hand and a swagger in his step knowing that there was still hope.

Until now.

Here on Romulus, home of one of the most dangerous enemies Starfleet had ever known, marooned with a Vulcan stranger while the rest of the fleet was busy battling a Hydran invasion fleet, Leo watched as hundreds of Romulans yelling and screaming in their native tongue, weaved their way through the maze of buildings and dirt streets, and advanced towards the crashed runabout.

The comm panel squawked behind him, hissing loudly and crackling as broken reports of battle filtered across the bandwidth in fragmented portions.

"Did you get out that SOS call?" Leo asked Soval.

The Vulcan Security specialist never moved his gaze from his phaser rifle's cross hairs. Where Leo had been covered with sweat and grime from dirt being kicked up in the air, Soval appeared to be the eye of the hurricane.

If he was uneasy in the face of what was coming at them he didn't show it. Nor did his voice betray any fear when he spoke.

"Affirmative. Given the status of the battle above us, it would be more then logical to operate under the assumption that we are on our own for the time being."

"Ahhh fuck." Leo said, spitting blood onto the deck plates. "Here I am, living a John Q. Bhrode wet dream and I can't think of one joke."

"Facing one's demise is rarely a source of jocularity."

Leo squinted through the stinging smoke of the burning debris and watched as the rioting Romulans piled broken chairs, pieces of table and other hunks of debris into breakwalls of cover around the runabout.

In the distance, behind the swirling dirt and paper he could hear pockets of phaser fire being endlessly exchanged.

The phaser rifle felt heavy in his hands. He breath was short and sharp.

"Now is the time when I would normally ask you if you were talking about my jock."

"And now is the time when I would remind you that I have not, nor anticipate a time when your genitals would again be a topic of discussion." Soval said. "Remember, short bursts of fire. Only shoot those immediately shooting at you or anyone within 10 yards of our position."

Leo watched as women and children ran among the rioting Romulans, many brandishing phasers and homemade weapons.

"How do you tell the good guys from the bad?" Leo asked, shouldering his rifle as phaser fire ricocheted off the hull.

"Everyone not wearing a Starfleet uniform is a target."

"Well, that certainly narrows it down a little." the little man said.

"I see your sense of humor has returned." Soval noted and then began firing his phaser in short bursts at onrushing enemies.

Leo followed suit and for the next twenty minutes, bodies piled up outside of the craft. Explosions rocked their position. The stench of death blew in on the slight wind and nearly gagged Streely.

His shoulder grew sore form using the rifle. He checked his power level on the phaser.

"I'm nearly empty!" he yelled, the sounds of the explosion temporarily playing havoc with his hearing and making it seem as though he were in a fish bowl.

"HEY! HEY!!" he screamed as he eyed Soval.

The Vulcan had come out of the cover of the runabout and was crouched over a Romulan woman he had shot. She had been carrying some sort of homemade liquid bomb and his phaser fire detonated the liquid.

Angry black burns stretched from the bloodied underside of her chin to the middle of her abdomen.

He was pressing the butt of his phaser rifle into her wounds amplifying her already wretched screams to an almost breathless level.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!?" Leo screamed, taking a couple more shots on an advancing rioter.

The woman looked up at her attacker with tears streaming down her face.

"K...Kill...m...me." she gasped. "P..Please k..kill me."

"No." the Vulcan said, continuing to study her.

Streely charged over and knocked the man to the ground. The pair wrestled for a moment with Leo ending up atop Soval who was still staring at the woman in an almost trancelike state.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!?" Leo screamed.

Soval looked at him blankly and then flung him aside. From where he laid he could see the mob had advanced within 5 yards of the shuttle craft. He couldn't reach his rifle.

He was going to die.

And he was pissed.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!" Leo screamed at Soval who only now looked away from the woman and at Leo. The Romulans had advanced past the zero barrier and it would only be seconds until they were both cut down.

"I thought...I felt something." he said to Leo.

He watched as one of the Romulans leveled a blaster at them while Leo screamed obscenities and suddenly his attackers were hit with repeated phaser blasts.

Above them, three Starfleet troop transports circled the crash site and provided suppressive fire while marines rappelled down thick black ropes and took up defensive positions around the runabout.

The marine detachment's phasers cut a swath through the Romulan attackers with ease. One of the Marines pulled back his goggles to reveal a very weathered and worn face.

"Captain. Colonel Gideon Slade, USS AKIRA, 7th Battalion. Are you OK to move?"

Leo still stared at Soval and nodded.

"Transporters are a pain in our ass right now and we don't dare take the chance of loosing you in our pattern buffers. We're gonna have to pull you out the old fashioned way." Slade said. Escorting Leo and Soval into the waiting troop transport.

No sooner had their boots hit the deck then the craft lifted off and sped towards the darkness of space where the brilliant lights of the tail end of battle flared.

He looked at Soval across the transport.

The Vulcan appeared as normal as he usually did.

Cold.

Distant.

Chilling.

"Carry On"

Ensign David Walker

===

Racked by a confusing mixture of exhilaration, anger, and grief, David tried to keep his hands from shaking as he packed. He'd just recently received orders to temporarily take over as helm officer for the USS Exeter, which had lost practically all of its experienced crew in that vicious battle over Romulus, and he couldn't be any more excited about the opportunity this afforded him. He desperately needed some command experience if he intended to see his career plans through, and as far as David knew, he would effectively be the Exeter's chief navigation officer until further notice.

The other two emotions, however, had been plaguing him since the Galaxy had fled Romulus in the wake of the Hydrans and their horrific Star Beast. So many Federation and Romulan lives had been lost in that fight, and right now it felt like all those poor people had died for nothing. Certainly, the allied fleet had fought bravely, but the Hydrans had won, and now they occupied the capital of the Romulan Star Empire. There were still a lot of Starfleet officers left behind on Romulus, and David wondered if they would ever be rescued.

David's jaw worked angrily as he closed his pack and shouldered it on his way out of his quarters. He strode swiftly down the corridor and into the turbolift. "Deck four," he said, surprised at how thick his voice sounded.

As the turbolift thrummed to life, David relaxed his posture, thinking back to what was really making him feel like this. He thought that after time to let it sink in that it wouldn't affect him anymore, but he had been wrong. His childhood hero was gone, and he wasn't sure if he would ever get over it completely.

David had been born and raised in Alaska, and he grew up hearing stories about Christopher Summers and his legendary family. As a boy, he had dreamed of serving with Captain Summers aboard his famous ship, the USS Anchorage. David wasn't ashamed to admit that Chris Summers was a major influence on his decision to join Starfleet; he had wanted to be just like his idol, and that aspiration still remained.

He had come the closest he would ever get to serving with Captain Summers there above Romulus, and every day the fleet was there, David wished he had been aboard the Miranda instead of the Galaxy. That thought embarrassed him, as he had a great deal of respect for Daren M'Kantu, a fine captain in his own right, but being so close to serving with his hero had been frustrating. Now Christopher Summers was dead, and David would never have the honor of meeting him. That thought burned through David like a hot knife, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The floor suddenly shook beneath him, and he blinked in shock, an arm reaching out for the turbolift's wall to help keep his footing. He was surprised when he grasped air, and David shook his head, looking around and suddenly realizing where he was.

"Welcome aboard the Exeter, sir," said the enlisted shuttle pilot beside him.

David's face turned a shade of red that nearly matched his collar. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he couldn't even remember arriving at Shuttlebay One, boarding the shuttle that would take him to the Exeter, or the flight over. He glanced at the pilot and offered her a grateful nod before standing up and retrieving his things, his embarrassment quickly fading as he stepped onto the Exeter's main shuttlebay.

He took a second to look around before heading for the nearest turbolift, and as he stepped inside it, he made a silent vow. From this day forward, David would do his best to live up to Christopher Summers' example, to do such things in his own career that some young child in Alaska, years from now, would look up at the stars and dream as he once did.

“Beauty of the Beast”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan

And Lieutenant T'lan

Soundtrack:

-”Bless The Child” By Nightwish (Star Beast's Entrance)

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

USS Galaxy, Deck 32

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

Waiting was the hardest part of the battle, allowing the imagination to conjure not just the delusional thoughts of glory and heroics, but to also dredge up the horrid enslavements of a battlefield's worse fears and follies. There were thoughts of saving the day under the explosion of sparks and wrecked metal, but then that was coupled with the hazards. The same sparks igniting power lines. The metal singing lethally into flesh. The air giving out as it rushes into space...

James tried to ignore it by immersing himself into his role as the security chief.

His deputies had their own methods, but none had his excuse to escape. He could tell in their faces, a mixture of fear, anxiety and pain, that their last few minutes to wait for battle was a hell for all eternity. Some gripped their phaser rifles as if it was their favorite childhood toy to bring them comfort. One hummed a song. A couple others glanced at each other nervously.

The patrols waited, not knowing when battle would come.

The ship rocked from multiple hits, but the Galaxy held. A console, overloaded with energy coursing from the shields to the power relays, blew out, spilling electronic entrails and blowing plastic shrapnal. Ensigns bucked under the shifting decks. Two or three swore as the ship was hit by another volley. Others started to show panic.

“Oh my god!” One of the ensigns panicked.

James spun about with rapid heel pivots, and caught the ensign in a withering stare. “WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT?!?! It's just a f**king console! The shields are still up and when they aren't we're giving the Hydrans a swift boot to the f**king balls! Cowboy up you f**king maggot, and you'll live!” He then directed his stare at the other scared ensigns, “THAT GOES FOR EVERYONE! Fight now! Cry later! GOT IT?!?!”

“SIR! YES SIR!!!” Went the ensigns.

The twin presences of unphased veteran officers buoyed their spirits, anchoring them to their task and the deck. James never thought of his leadership abilities but in afterthought, always thinking there was some outside force to his actions that made others do as he wished. But in battle, it was different. Lead by example. Others followed as long as it wasn't too suicidal.

But then he retracted. T'lan the Vulcan, by being Vulcan, was the beacon of strength.

“You are lucky, T'lan.” James addressed his closest deputy, a Vulcan lieutenant with jet black hair, cropped and cut short and thick in the fashion of her homeworld. Though she was shorter than James, her lack of impressive height was more than made up by her coiled, tight movement and haughty stance. Her grace under pressure was trademark Vulcan, the impassive face keeping its secrets well buried from everyone but James. Corgan knew T'lan long enough that the constant glances at him and the inspecting of passing security patrols meant she was worried, but it was enough to know her composure was invincible. James admired that strength, always relied on it.

Vulcans seemed unemotional to most species, but subtle mannerisms spoke louder. He could only guess what T'lan was thinking as she answered back.

“Sir, what do you mean?”

James gave his answer, “Vulcan. You understand.”

Perplexed, T'lan responded, “You have not once stammered, apologized, or weakened your voice during this emergency. If you are admiring the Vulcan's unemotional properties during battle, I can assure you that you have nothing to envy. You are handling yourself well.”

“Years of practice.” Corgan fired back, but halted as be was about to quip lightly. He had come to realize that T'lan was not speaking for his encouragement, but to strengthen her own. Her hand started to shake and her step became uncertain.

He added with a pat on her armoured shoulder, “We're in this together, Lieutenant. I rely on you more than you realize. Stick with me and we'll both make it through. Got it, Lieutenant?”

She uncertainly nodded, “Yes sir.” uttered out of her lips, as she braced her polaron rifle to her shoulder. Her resolve thickened as her face tensed. James secretly smiled.

“Well then... all we have to do is...”

He heard the hellish crack of the ship being thundered thick, powerful hellbore blasts. As if knocked in the jaw by a trained prize fighter, the Galaxy listed over too fast for the inertial dampners to compensate. Like pins, the security officers were knocked from the floor and into any nearby wall. James felt himself picked off his feet by invisible hands, and before he could say 'oh sh*t', his shoulder bashed into a panel, jarring itself and rattling him deep to his bones. His abused shoulder shouted out its protests with rivulets of pulsing pain even before he finished his unceremonious tumble to the floor, but when he did it, it was hard on his own ass. His head rebounded off the wall, as flashes of light struck his senses blind.

His reaction was to check himself, though there was a lack of any stabbing, sharp pains. Nothing was broken, though he felt himself battered and beaten by the ship itself. His one hand probed for his type two phaser, an instant reaction whenever he saw himself vulnerable and in danger. The other was to check the back of his head, feel for blood, probe for a fracture of a concussion. The stars were starting to clear in his head, but he couldn't be sure.

It was a passage of time of only one second. The results of the strike were made clear enough when he heard the rushing of air, like a great big vortex, blowing past him.

“BREACH!!!!!!!!!”

Corgan heard an ensign scream before the air rushed past, picking him up with it. The young officer had barely let those words escape him as he was tossed into vacuum, his body tumbling into the starry void, his arms and legs flailing, his skin slowly flaking off as it froze. His dying lips tried to scream, but was overwhelmed by the roaring vacuum.

Then the air decided to pick up James.

He had a helpless moment of being carried away, dragged by a giant he couldn't see. Forgetting his phaser and his rattled head, his arms and legs flailed, snatching at anything that protruded. The air past him felt bone cold; it was cooling as fast as it was escaping. His arms fought the wind as he saw a protruding piece of metal. It was jagged and sharp, and it would lacerate his hand if he held onto it, but as he saw the alternative and knew the effects of prolonged exposure to space through first hand experience, he knew what was the better choice.

Trying to take a deep breath, but feeling it snatched away by the hurriedly escaping air, James lunged himself towards the metal with his outstretched arm.

His hand did not quite make it. Another hand clutched his wrist and yanked him with alien strength. Suspended in the tidal wave of air and a toe's length from the border of any emergency force fields, James allowed himself a peep at who was saving him.

Lieutenant T'lan, herself secured by one hand on a bulwark and a foot pushing against a bent deck plating, had James by the wrist in one green and white knuckled grip. Her rifle whipping and clattering against her ribs, her features showed remarkable strain as she tried to keep James still within the ship's atmosphere.

Even as air tried to escape, James heard the whine of transporters. Rather than the effervescent tingle of human made, Starfleet issue transporters, he heard a mysterious scream followed by violet hued swirling lights. He saw the forms materialize within, three headed, multi armed, snakelike silhouettes that grew more pronounced with each passing second. He saw their weapons and EVA suits materialize over their forms.

It took all of his strength to reach for his sidearm, fighting the current of vacuum and the pain from his impact with the wall. T'lan took uneasy glances at materializing forms, but could not reach for her sidearm with both hands busy keeping the partners from being sucked into outer space.

“Swwwwinnnngggg....” James struggled to scream.

His fingers closed around the weapon, and as if in slow motion, drew it out and aimed at the transported figures. The hydran that first materialized wore a face of shock, and tried to level his disruptor rifle in James path. James was quicker, shooting a lance of bright red light from his midnight black pistol, catching the slower soldier in the shoulder. Armour material from his EVA suit sparked and burned, and the body bucked back, loosing its rifle and allowing it to spin into the void. It's body, held firm by a magnetic grappling pseudopod, rippled and waved like a suspended branch in the wind.

There were two other Hydran soldiers behind him, their weapons trained on the duo. James sent lances of red fire after them both, his arm whipping wildly against the wind, his shots appallingly inaccurate. As one beam shot above the Hydran team's head, the enemy soldiers had reacted by staying low and taking cover. James kept firing, and by luck hit another in the chestplate, leaving a searing hole and another suspended, wind flapping body.

But it wasn't enough to stop two Hydrans approaching from T'lan's back, their transporter beams finishing up too fast for James liking, his phaser arm pointed in the opposite direction. He saw a momentary flash of panic in T'lan's eyes; she knew of the oncoming Hydrans and could not fight back.

Both officers looked at each other directly, James firing blind at the Hydrans he could shoot. With a nod of their heads, T'lan strained to her breaking points, green blood flooded to her face, a mask of pain as she commanded her body to do the impossible.

James felt himself sail against the current, turning towards the new batch of Hydrans. T'lan screamed , James bellowed his warcry, fought vacuum as his phaser took aim. The effort alone to pull the trigger demanded more out of him than he thought possible, and as his vision blurred he doubted his aim was true.

But he had to try, or die.

James pulled the trigger, his phaser's whine a sharp rapport. Its beam arced across the corridor, catching the rear attacking Hydrans across the chestplates of their EVA armour, slashing a black, sooty scar across them and releasing foul, ichorous blood.

Then all of the noise stopped, and the sucking, rushing wind ceased to blow as a pop and a 'fwump' of a forcefield kicking to life sealed up the breach. T'lan and James body plummeted to the floor, giving both another hard knock, with James landing on his chest. What little breath he had left in his burning, overtaxed lungs were knocked out, leaving him coughing and in pain. His eardrums rang like a whining siren, but even through that he could hear the enemy firing disruptors, and the singing song of Federation phasers answering back.

His vision came back to him, his eyes still stung by the air as it tried to escape, but what he saw was a sight that, in its breath and scope alone, chilled his soul from core to periphery.

A monster emerged from the rift, lashing tentacles, a star shaped beast bigger than many space stations. Its immensity encouraged fear, its gaping maw a silent scream to the stars and creation. There were no eyes, no limbs but that of the tentacles, it was a starfish mass and a destroyer of worlds.

He had never saw anything so awe inspiring. The intelligence reports could do no justice to this gargantuum as it drifted in space.

A phalanx of Federation starships rushed to meet the starbeast, heeding not the plans as the massive creature sowed chaos into the ranks. Red phaser beams and the amber stars of volleys of torpedos raced to impact with the creature, slamming and scoring into purpled flesh. The atomic flashes of the torpedos ripped into limb and carapace, but could do nothing. The strikes scorched horny flesh and bruised it black, but looked so tiny compared to its immense size.

One of the ships in the phalanx was Miranda, the Paladin, the only hope, leading a wing of Romulan warbirds.

Starbeast swatted the flagship aside with little effort, sending the ship spinning back into friendly lines. A warbird answered with green disruptor beams, as effective as the Federation's assault. The Starbeast, as if impervious to the pain, then went for the warbird.

Its one tentacle wrapped itself around the warbird's hull, overwhelming flesh against a shimmering shield system of the warship, a moment of worthless protection as the shield itself shattered violently, the tentacle gripping the nacelle and twining itself all over the doomed ship's hull. As if a macabre volley of its own weapon systems, hundreds of thick tentacles sprouted hairlike from the main branch, punching themselves through the Romulan ship's hull. The emerald green warbird sprouted flames from exposed breaches, and profusely rich green plasma into space as its nacelles were torn apart.

It was a sight James couldn't tear away from. In his years as a security officer, facing the greatest threats to the Federation, its toughest enemies, and surviving the toughest war in the known galaxy, he was at a loss of words for what he was seeing, an enemy greater than itself, a helplessness that consumed him with fear.

It was due to divine mercy that the Galaxy turned to starboard, leaving the Starbeast behind it. James saw the remnants of the two fleets, Romulan warbirds and Federation starships alike, warping out of the system. He heard the whine of the enemy transporters as their boarders disappeared, then saw the flash of light as the stars rushed away. They had gone to warp.

He had just realized that they had lost.

Their long enemy and now ally. Lost.

His daughter and former lover. Lost.

The fleet that won the greatest war of the galaxy. Lost.

Even as T'lan and the other officers were running to him, James could feel just as lost for words about what he felt. He did not want to believe what was happening in front of him, and hoped that it would go away, but reality never went away.

They had lost the day, even at their best effort.

And it was a shame that had a hard time letting itself go.

"The Resistance"

Elaithin Jii

Lt. Colonel For'kel Arvelion, SFMC, USS Miranda

OOC: Takes place immediately following "Going Under"

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

Hydran-Occupied Romulus

The Undercity, Ki Baratan

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

It had taken longer than Jii was really comfortable with to get the Marines' Aid Station/Base of Operations broken down - but that had more to do with the large numbers of casualties they were protecting.

He and Fork had worked quickly on dividing everyone into groups, each with an escort from the Unificationists.

Many of the Unificationists were pacifists, and did not wish to actively fight, making them of little use as soldiers to the fledgeling resistance. Jii had to fight a smirk at the notion that the Hydran Occupation wasn't even two days old, and there was already a resistance movement. Still, pacifists or no, they could help in other ways - guiding teams in and out of the labyrinthine caverns of Ki Baratan's Undercity, for example, or caring for the wounded, or providing much needed local intelligence. They had their uses, even if they weren't soldiers.

That was what Fork and his marines were for.

Still, Jii imagined the man had a great many questions - he would, in the Stagnorian's shoes. Several hours later, the two men finally sat in a small room in the half-buried building, nearly a hundred meters underneath the streets of the Romulan Capitol. Starfleet field lighting lit the room, equipment crates providing the majority of the furniture.

As he sat, Jii just enjoyed the sensation for a moment - the boots he was wearing now just weren't as comfortable as his old Starfleet ones. The Bajoran closed his eyes a moment, as he waited for Arvelion to start asking questions.

For'kel on the other hand was never one to fall under the category of predictable... at least unintentionally. He'd remained unusually quiet... partly because in his state it was difficult to think, much less articulate, but mostly because there was precious little to talk about. In the distance, even in the tunnels, the explosion of the last underground site could be heard. Evidently, the Hydrans had tripped the proverbial booby-trap. With any luck, a good number of Hydrans got taken out in the process

Luck... he certainly wasn't used to thinking of death as a symbol of luck, but so be it. After getting grips on some food, courtesy of a Romulan unificationist, he opted to engage in the questioning... on his terms of course. "So... what brings you to beautiful down town Ra'tleihfi?"

Jii chuckled, lifting up the bottle of water he'd picked up. "You know, "Ra'tleihfi" is just the Rihannsu word for "Capitol". The city's actual name is Ki Baratan."

"Oh yeah?" Damn, he really 'did' need to brush up on his Romulan.

"I'm going off two days worth of language lessons, you'll have to forgive me."

"Fair enough." the Bajoran said. "You were right before.. sort of, when you said Intelligence was involved with why I'm here." He shrugged slightly. "Which probably isn't a suprise. Jordan and I aren't what you'd call.. official."

"Well officially, I know she's dead... what's your excuse?" It was a rather blunt way of putting things, lacking even what For'kel would consider nuance, and one brought on by many dozens of hours straight of fighting.

"She *was* dead, Fork." Jii decided to clarify. He knew there was a trust issue between the two of them in the past. "Everything back with the Indefatigable.. that was all real. She died. I quit the Fleet. You have my word that it's not some intel snow-job cover story."

Jii was fully aware, also, that that made his presence - and especially Jordan's - even harder to explain.

Of course, that was the next logical question. "So let me guess... I died too and there 'is' what you people call 'hell'?"

"No, but the scenery's not too different." Jii chuckled. "It's..

complicated. I went to a lot of places and did a lot of strange things to get her back. Turns out I didn't even need to leave Bajor."

Elaithin shook his head for a moment, his face largely cast into shadows by the dim lighting.

"None of that's really important right now, though." he continued.

"We got some indirect instructions from Murdock that something was wrong with an an SFI agent on Romulus - who had apparently flipped, and wasn't working for Starfleet anymore. Bajor wasn't safe for me and Jordan anymore - turns out I've got a bounty of about a million bars on my head. So we came here. I've got my suspicions about the person who pointed Jordan and me this direction, but not enough to make some conclusions right now."

"We got here not long after you guys did. We tracked down the agent we were looking for, and found out some interesting things when we questioned him. He's down the hall in a cell right now, and I need a favor from you."

And people wondered why he didn't trust intelligence operatives, though the need for a 'favor' was rather rich. "What's that?"

"We need a full squad of marines guarding this man at all times. He has to survive this in order to be turned over to the Romulan Senate - or what's left of it. Look, I know protocol says we're supposed to bring agents like that back to Starfleet jurisdiction.. but if we don't turn him over to the Romulans, intact, whatever's left of the Empire after this is going to be throwing itself at the Federation."

"So you want me to spare a squad?" For'kel couldn't believe that, the fact evident in the way he took his time in answering. "Let me break things down for you. Half my battalion is either dead or hurt in combat. Of the rest of us, just about everyone is wounded in 'some'

way, and we're all scattered to hell at the squad level conducting independent operations against the Hydrans. Our only reliable and discrete communication is via runner, and it would be a stupid mistake to assign a squad that could do damage in the field towards guarding a single prisoner."

"I know." Jii said, putting his hands up. "Beleive me, I know. But we can't get the Romulans to guard him. He's a Starfleet Agent that betrayed the Empire to the Hydrans. But he didn't do it on behalf of the Hydrans."

When Arvelion simply frowned at the statement, Jii continued.

"Fork, SFI was right. He was turned. But not by the Hydrans - by the Tal Shi'ar. Everything that's going on on this planet right now is the Tal Shi'ar's fault - and that man down there is the only proof of it in this galaxy."

"Which means what to 'me'?" Came the over-riding response. "My mission is simple, keep the Hydran forces off balance and pinned down in hopes that a rescue operation is launched, get my people out of here, and to get home to 'my' wife, 'my' child, and get on with 'my'

life." He checked his rifle's power supply. "Nowhere in there does anything about intelligence wars with the Tal Shiar, internal political struggles, or subversion factor in. Politics and war do 'not' mix."

"Politics and war are the same thing, Colonel." Elaithin replied. "I can't give you an order. I'm making a request. We don't keep this man alive, and there's going to be a lot more dead. Romulus won't be under Hydran control forever. But if he doesn't survive, the consequences will be on a galactic scale. And everyone who's died in defense of this planet the last few days will have died for NOTHING. Weighed against that, the benefits of five marines in the field versus keeping them here to protect him are microscopic at best. The man I know couldn't live with that. But maybe I've been away too long."

His first thought was to hit the guy. Prophets knew he had it coming, but fortunately for the both of them For'kel's better sense stood through. He wasn't used to liberating a people, and simultaneously not trusting them with the same liberties they'd just been given...

but such was the time. "Next time, might I suggest you don't retreat from your responsibilities?" It was a clear shot back, regarding the aftermath the Miranda was in when Jii opted to leave... as he brought up being gone after all.

"We all make mistakes, Colonel." Elaithin replied. "Don't you make one now."

The two men locked eyes in the dim lighting for a moment before the Marine finally broke the silence. "Dana, come here."

The woman left the side of a Marine who's bandages she was changing. "Sir?"

"Find me three Marines for guard duty."

Jii watched Arvelion issue the orders, and wasn't surprised by the limit of three Marines. It would do, however. "Thank you." he said quietly.

For'kel said nothing, merely giving a nod. "If he attempts to escape, they'll shoot him." Sitting back down on the crate, the Stagnorian sighed, and turned his attention back to the food. "So how'd it happen this time? Alternate universe? Temporal distortion of some kind? Alien hybrid cloning techniques?"

"Hmmn?"

"Your wife."

"Right, sorry." Jii replied, exhaling, fatigue showing on his face.

"Sorry. Haven't slept much the last few days." he said with a wry grin. And in this case.. Divine Intervention."

"Nobody has." For'kel said almost scoldingly, less Jii forget his place in the play of things. "Divine Intervention eh? That's one for the record books."

"I was there, and I still don't understand a lot of it. I figure it out someday, I'll be happy to explain it." the Bajoran offered.

"So other then this whole... counter-intelligence thing, exactly what it is you plan on doing?"

He shrugged. "Well, the whole reason Jordan and I came - or were sent, depending on your point of vi"w - is because we had contacts with the Unificationists. As you can see, they've come in handy.

They're providing the support network for this resistance we're setting up. Food, supplies, shelter - all the things you need to make an army run.

"After that, we've made contact with some of the elements of the Romulan military that're still on planet. Their senior officer is here already, but I wanted to talk to you about her before introducing you." Jii said. The way he said it didn't inspire a lot of confidence in the Romulan leader.

"Aside from that, we've made contact with various ex-military Romulans and several Starfleet personell on-planet. I've got maybe sixty combat-trained Starfleet officers, and around four thousand current or former Romulan military personnel at our disposal. And we made contact with the Concorde's marines this morning - they're on the southern continent."

Then the Bajoran grinned. "So I figured me and my new friends could make occupying this planet a very unpleasant prospect for the Hyrdans.

What do you say, 'Colonel? You in?"

"There's a planned raid on a suspected Hydran POW camp." For'kel drew a basic map on one of the containers. "According to what I've learned, the Hydrans are planning an execution of prisoners tomorrow."

"Seems like the kind of thing we ought to put a stop to."

For'kel nodded, assuming that was a set plan then. The Question of what to do afterwards still hung in the air. "Who's this Romulan officer of yours?"

Jii winced. "You might have heard of her. It's Admiral Sela."

Admiral Sela, according to the records, was the quit-essential bitch not to put too fine a point on it. An instigator at best, a warlord at worst, and a figure who had on any number of occasions brought the Quadrant to the brink of war. "Yeah, I've heard of her."

"Yeah." Jii said, that single word confirming that both men were of the same mind about their new, erstwhile ally. "So.. wife and kid, hunh?"

"Yeah... Bery's five months along." Concentrating on the food, For'kel ate as quickly as he could. "Expecting sometime in December.

Life moves on."

"Congratulations." the Bajoran man offered. Jii thought of his own children, that he hadn't seen now for almost seven month. "Families a good thing to have, 'Colonel. Let's go meet with Sela and get this done so we can both get back to ours."

That much was at least one thing they could agree on. "Lead the way."

"Elemental, Part 2"

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

=Somewhere Beneath the Fire Temple=

=Romulus=

Elissa's feet were cold and aching from the length of the walk across pitted rock and through winding corridors, in a blend of natural and man-made passage. She felt cold, and there was a tightness in her chest that could either be fatigue or the first hints of influenza. Nearly dry, there was still enough of the clammy, semi-dark environment to make her shiver and feel chill right to the bone.

And without having to turn - or rather, not daring to - she could feel his eyes on her back. She was too weak to be embarrassed, but not so much as to not feel just the slightest flush of anger.

"Well," Elissa said with a resigned sigh, "No more lights."

And then even that, with everything, faded into darkness.

Aerv tr'Ahalaen echoed her sigh and looked around, as best he could, and shook his head in the darkness. There were no heat vents, at least none to be found, and now there was no more light. He suspected that his companion was tired. After all, he had no idea where she had come from, or what she had been through before she had come upon him. Hydrans, of course, were probably involved in some way...and that probably meant that she had been running....

"We should stop here."

Elissa placed a hand on the wall to support herself for a moment's rest, looking down at the ground she could no longer see. "No." She had come too far to surrender now. There had to be warmth ahead, even if she had to will it into being.

"Faith...." Aerv began, and then sighed. After a moment, he made an appeal to the scientist, not the woman, "Is it worth the risk? Even if we find a heat vent, without light, we will be lost here for some time.

And...what happens when we try to make our way back?"

"I don't know." Feet shuffled in the dark, and he realized she was moving forward.

tr'Ahalaen thought of reaching forward and grabbing her hand to try and stop her...however, in this darkness, he might well end up taking a hold of something else.... "Perhaps I phrased myself poorly, Ensign. We are stopping here."

She spoke words under her breath, too low for him to hear more than a trickle of syllables on the stale air.

"I am sorry - what was that?"

"It's very simple," she said evenly, so that he had to strain to hear the words. She stopped moving forward. "I have to keep moving."

Unexpectedly, tr'Ahalaen laughed, "You know...I am beginning to wonder if my failure to understand what your papers were about had less to do with a lack of knowledge, and more to do with your cryptic nature. Why do you have to keep walking, Faith?"

"Because if I stop..." she trailed off, and he felt eyes on him again.

He couldn't understand. She'd seen his scars, had tallied only a part of the bravery they implied, and had realized something of his true character under all those pretty words. He couldn't understand. She turned and kept walking, this time hardly touching the walls with her free hand as she walked.

tr'Ahalaen sighed, leaned against a wall, and then sat down. "Very well. You may, of course, do as you wish. I am going to stop here, and I am going back to the camp when I wake up. If you are here, I will take you back to safety. I promise you that...but no more."

"I don't need you," she said shakily, stumbling and catching herself.

Each step weighed a little more.

"Yes...you do. I am Romulus."

Taken by a fire within, she hurled the ball of wet uniform she'd been carrying at the wall and balled her hands into fists. She stood there shaking, from being angry, from being cold, and from being scared, which only made her angrier. She slammed the wall with her forearms and unleashed the fiercest cry of rage that had ever escaped her lips. The cry echoed down the cavern in every direction, and came back at her tenfold. She slumped to the ground, scratching her side along a jagged edge. The pain was distracting, but all she could think about was Aerv standing there behind her, judging her. "I hate you," she whispered with a voice that sounded as ragged as the earth around her.

She heard a deep sigh, but he said nothing and did not move.

She felt the raw, white pain in her hands and arms, and looked down into the blackness, holding them up to her blind inspection. Why? She sniffed and coughed and lay down on the ground, eyes open. Not that it mattered. Open eyes in darkness saw the same things closed eyes did.

Elissa wondered, distantly, why blinking had to be a biological imperative.

A small eternity passed before she heard Aerv move. He walked up and knelt before her. "I'm sorry, Faith," he whispered, he sounded exhausted himself, tired, "I really am."

"You don't understand," she said, cheek pressed against stone, slurring her speech. "You really don't."

"Perhaps...but I understand this: you are on my world...and you are here, in this place. And...I cannot fix this...I am sorry for that. I am Romulus. I am responsible."

"No," she said sitting up. She pushed back and leaned against the wall, clutching her side. Her eyes stared into nothing... as if she needed help with that. "I was."

"For what?" He asked softly, struggling to understand this human woman.

Elissa hadn't wanted to stop. Stopping meant thinking, and the only way to outpace one's thoughts was to keep moving. She closed her eyes and sighed, and was back on the surface of Romulus, at dusk, in that small village with the playing children.

"I was meeting with a colleague. Janet," she paused and looked toward his kneeling form, which she could more sense than see. "My department chief, thought it would be good if I... were to get my mind off the conflict, so she cleared me take a shuttle down to Romulus." Elissa winced as she tried to sit up more.

The young woman rocked in placed, feeling her objectivity slip in inches. "I hid from them. When they attacked, they took out the

shuttle and they killed Sorval, and I just hid inside. There were

children, they were playing outside. One was a little girl who'd refused my jacket, even though it was cold. She was so proud. Such a strong little girl. But when they came, they took so many of them, they took the children, they took the girl..."

Elissa's body tensed. Her head pounded fiercely and she held on for dear life to what reason she could. "I hid!" She convulsed for a moment, and swallowed, and tried to calm herself. "I watched them take her andugghh..." The pit of her stomach felt suddenly so sharp. "Oh guhhh..." Skylark felt like her head would explode, her throat clenching, her lungs burning for air. The guilt breached her defenses in a torrent of sobbing.

She was weeping. Aerv reached forward and pulled her into an embrace.

The fact that they were naked meant nothing - they were exposed in other, more profound ways.

He did not try to comfort her with words. What could he say? He could not forgive her - she was not asking for that kind of shallow forgiveness, he already knew she was not that kind of person. Was he supposed to tell her that she had done nothing wrong? That would be a blatant lie.

As her tears flowed down his shoulder, he simply held her and let her weep, stroking her hair, he kissed the top of her head. He understood... every man who has fought wars understands moments like those, when courage fails, when judgment fails... moments that live with one forever, moments where you learn something unpleasant about yourself.

Her face dug into his shoulder like a child's. "M'sorry. I'm so sorry." She repeated it like a mantra until her voice simply gave and all she had was the smallest whimpers. What little energy she'd had left when they stopped walking had been spent. And yet, sleep did not come for her.

tr'Ahalaen pulled her head back and leaned his forehead against hers, "I know, Faith... I know. For now... forget it all, stop thinking, just...

exist for the moment," he kissed her forehead softly, "You will live with this forever, I know.... They say that all the elements are within each living being. Memory is like... it is like the earth. There are indelible marks all over it, some deeper than others. For now, Faith, embrace the fire within you, embrace the forgetfulness of it. The earth will always be there."

Elissa breathed deeply, unevenly.

She had loosed a heartrending scream that would echo through the deserted temple for an eternity and more. She had challenged the thick, tangible air of this place, had shattered its serenity. She had declared her transgressions, had let the universe know that she was here, a surrogate daughter to the rage it felt.

She had, for a time, become one with the Elements. And it was not God's grace that calmed her heart, but a stranger's. If indeed Aerv tr'Ahalaen had ever been a stranger.

A long silence descended.

Then suddenly, there was light, bright and shining right in their faces.

Blinded, neither one of them could see the Romulans standing over them. One of them was laughing. "How touching, tr'Ahalaen. I am certain the holy men of this place would have been proud. At any rate, if either one of you has anything to hide, I suggest you cover yourself as best you can. The Tal Shiar remembers everything."

= End Log=

"The Fool"

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

= Secret Tal Shiar Base =

= Romulus =

Aerv tr'Ahalaen could not help but wonder at the hubris of the Tal Shiar in building a secret base under a place of worship. The image of installing themselves as gods of a secular Romulus must have appealed to them. Then again, the young Ambassador had to admit, there was a great deal of irony about any time he commented upon the hubris of another.

The base was unremarkable, in a high-tech military base kind of way.

Certainly, the controlled, clean, modern enviornment was a drastic change from the dark caverns Aerv and his companion had been wandering in. However, familiar things become ordinary quite quickly, and the comforting beeps and hums of Rihannsu technolgy had already become part of the background for tr'Ahalaen again.

So far, the Tal Shiar had been quite hospitable. Then again, given who his father had been in the past and was now, tr'Ahalaen expected nothing else. Both he and Skylark had been allowed to bathe and were given clothes. Then, Aerv had been asked to visit the commander of this post alone. So he walked now, flanked by two agents, in case he were inclined to forget where he was....

A door opened. Drawing a deep breath, tr'Ahalaen walked in, shoulders broad, head high. When he saw whose domain he had wandered into, tr'Ahalaen stopped bowed deeply.

"Come now, Aerv tr'Ahalaen. Do not bow," the old man before him croaked, his ancient voice weak, but still obviously amused. "You were walking like a prince but a moment ago."

"Yes, Rekkhai," the young man replied, rising to his full height again and using an honorific than he rarely had occassion to, "However, I did not know then that I was in presence of a king."

Hvaid t'Sahen laughed and waved a withered hand Aerv's escort, dismissing them. When they were alone, the legendary soldier said, "Learn to walk more humbly, Son of Tal Vriha, and you'll not have to bow quite so low."

Aerv inclined his head, to indicate that he understood, "Your will is fate. Jolan Tru, Blade of the Declared."

"Yes, yes - Jolan Tru," t'Sahen grumbled, "And call me Hvaid. It is a tradition among us Blades. We do not stand on formality."

tr'Ahalaen raised an eyebrow at him.

The old man rolled his eyes, "Fine. There is no such tradition...but then, I've never met another living Blade. Have you?"

Aerv shook his head. In the entire Empire, there were only perhaps twenty living souls who the honor of being the Blades of the Declared.

It was a small group that was scattered about the various worlds of the Rihan.

"Eh...these are dark times, young pup."

"Aye," Aerv agreed, "There are never been, nor will there be, darker days."

Hvaid snorted in disdain, "Trust me, you'll be surprised at the kind of shit your life will throw at you...if you live very long. Which, by the way, you seem to be in no mood to do. What in the name of the Elements were you doing, wandering in this place?"

"I...well, sometimes, I need to get away from people, Hvaid. To rediscover nature, to find myself."

"You foolish boy! Stop losing yourself and spare the Elements some trouble."

Aerv smiled, "I will endeavour to do so in the future. That had not occured to me."

"It will. But tell me, young tr'Ahalaen, I have heard some things of you - how is it, exactly, that you have made a habit of being naked with beautiful women?"

"Everyone has talents."

The old Rihannsu laughed at that, "That is a very fine talent indeed.

I wish I had had it back when I could make some use of it. I have to say, your taste is impeccable. That companion of yours - quite a specimen - her kind of woman is the reason I've been saying all these years that we should be at peace with the Federation."

tr'Ahalaen nodded, "I have never disagreed."

"Ah...that's right - an ambassador now, aren't you? Disgraceful. But then...I am reduced to being a Tal Shiar agent. Like I said, life is shit."

"I bow to your wisdom."

t'Sahen grunted. "You seem to think you have wisdom of your own. What a pretty speech you gave that human woman. Embrace fire, you said.

You young fools, always with your fire."

Aerv suppressed a smile, "You have a difference preference?"

"Water, tr'Ahalaen. Greater than the power to destroy, is the power to give life."

"Some would say they are the same power."

"Well...they'd be wrong then. Now listen carefully, Aerv, my grandson is the commanding officer of the Aehallh. When the order to retreat came, he cloaked and brought the ship down to effect the rescue of my family."

Aerv frowned, "That would not have occured to me."

"I already told you, that is because you're a fool."

"Ah - of course. That had slipped my mind."

t'Sahen shook his head, "I'll have you escorted o the Aehallh. Leave with the ship, with your human friend, and meet up with the rest of the Fleet. Now I know, you're all about fire, you young pup, but let me tell you what happens to young men in war, tr'Ahalaen. They die. Fire dies. Leave while you can, and come back in a capacity where you can do a little good."

Aerv shook his head, "But...."

"This is not a request, tr'Ahalaen. This is my will. This is a command."

Of course, there were those who would point out that t'Sahen had no true authority to command Aerv tr'Ahalaen. None of them would be Rihannsu.

"Now," the old man continued, "As for the young woman...have you ever held a woman like that, tr'Ahalaen, naked, without making love to her?

No? I didn't think so. Did you want to? Did you think about it."

Aerv smiled wryly. "Of course."

"Then why not do it?"

"I did not think...that was what she wanted. I was not sure...."

"So? Are you always sure when your seductions begin?"

"Well...no."

"Why not try?"

tr'Ahalaen shrugged.

"Think about that, tr'Ahalaen. The answer is important. Think about her confession. When was the last time you confessed? When was the last time you were true to another soul?" The old man shook his head, "Be careful about how much you begin to believe in that perfect image of yours that you have created, tr'Ahalaen...lest you end up old, a forgotten legend, sitting alone in the ground, in a minor Tal Shiar base."

"You have never been forgotten, Hvaid tr'Sahen."

"More is the pity. Now get out of my sight. I'm ready to be rid of you. You remind me too much of myself when I was your age. Stupid child...."

= End Log =

"Might Never"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

Major Rena Starburst- SFFC
Rebel Squadron CO
USS Miranda

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

Major Rena "Spitfire" Starburst turned the hydrospanner once more, tightening down the primary dueterium line that ran to Rebel One's port-side impulse enginer. Rebel One was one of the few birds that the ground crew didn't touch without permission - Starburst as well known for her particularity in exactly who worked on her fighter.

Today, she was one of three people working on Rebel One, and honestly, she could have used more. But there were other birds in a lot worseshape.

"Goddamnit!" she yelled, as the 'spanner came free, and she banged her hand on the ship's cowling.

It hurt like hell.

But not nearly as much as being beaten and having to abandon dearfriends and family. Her sister, Arel, was amongst those left behind, but word was she'd helped get the Empress and several senators to the Praetor in the evacuation. And then there were others, like Fork...

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

Five Days Ago

Two Days before

the Battle of Romulus

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

Well now that the intel meeting as over and done with, and the Marines were gearing up for their next mission... for which they were scheduled to depart in one hour, and now that Berilyn 'had' to handle an emergency dealing with Transporter Room 1's targeting sensors misaligned in comparison to the confinement beam emitter, For'kel was left with the time to actually grab something to eat... as quickly as possible albeit, but food nonae the less. The replicator always made a decent turkey sandwhich.

That's when he noticed the fiery fighter pilot who looked as if she'd just seen a ghost. Then again, unbeknownst to For'kel, she'd slept with Nathan 'Cowboy' Everett... after that, honestly, who would fear death?

The Stagnorian approached with a typical, congenial smile. "So I hear you're in the family too... personally I won't be surprised if conspiracy theories begin to echo throughout the halls about Miranda slowly being undermined by the Empire through Arel." It was the best topic he could think of to lighten the mood, here was hoping it worked.

"Fork!" she said warmly. Along with the Dawsons and a handful of others, the two of them were two of the longest-serving crew members aboard the Miranda. (Or Miranda*s*, if one felt technical about it.) Though they hadn't really had much contact the last few years.

Still Rena's roots were as a Marine pilot herself, and she'd always felt a brotherly fondness for the Stagnorian roughneck. "'Rel told meabout the whole brother thing. Crazy, hunh?"

"Well it's a small ship. Apparently Arel conscripts family like somedo soldiers." He winked, taking a seat opposite her. "I'm still half expecting tosprout head ridges."

"Well, when most of humans talk about things like blood brothers, wedon't mean it so literally."

"Good to know." He smiled warmly. It wasn't often that they got to chat... in fact it almost always seemed to happen just when one or both of them were about to go on a mission that they might not be coming back from. "We need to work on our timing... but other than that, how have you been?"

"I've had better weeks." the pilot groused. "Getting irritated with some of my pilots - There's a couple that I just don't think are up to my Squadron's standards. Other than that.. well.. made a few choices lately that I could have lived without."

"Oh?" Now that sounded like it had implications... far reaching implications. Folding his hands together across the table, the Marine encouraged her to keep going

"Some other time," she chuckled. "Right now, I *really* don't want to talk about it. Dinner, maybe, with you and the missus when you get back up?"

"You know you're always welcome." For'kel chuckled. "Beef stew when we get back."

"Sounds good," the Major smiled, and waved at her friend as they parted.

-----------

Now

-----------

And now, there very well might never be that dinner, she might never hear Fork's inevitable teasing as she admitted her.. liason.. with Cowboy.

Who, goddamn him, was away on a dangerous mission, too.

Arel, Fork, Cowboy, Spider, Duece - hell, even Mitchell - were all unacounted for. Her wingmate, Cihl'bar, was dead. So were two of her other pilots.

War was hell.

"The Price of Ambition"

Ambassador Diana Thrace - temporary appointee to the Security Council

= = =

Diana Aedon Thrace knew something of ambition. What else could it be called when a woman married a recently widowed man thirty years her senior to improve her family standing? After all, the Aello clan had only daughters remaining: just herself, the daughter of a philosopher, and her half sister, Lysistrata, the daughter of a low ranking centurian named Lucius Vorenus. He wasn't even an officer, which would have meant something. No, there was no gain to be had in wedding one of them. They would ever be relegated to the lowest classes of a society that claimed it had no standing class structure.

Was it any wonder that when a man with so much potential stature, such as Zefram Thrace, became both available through widowhood and interested in a girl of very little means, such as herself, that Diana Aedon Aello encouraged the attention? A dutiful daughter did what must be done, even if it meant that by Centauran law she became the mother of a son a year her senior and daughter just four years her junior. She would be rid of them to advanced schools and professions soon enough and certainly long before they could make trouble for her.

That both Ares and Kira liked her proved a bonus. She didn't have to fight them to attain her goals.

No, they allowed her to encourage their father to his full potential.

After all, one should certainly encourage a man like Zefram Thrace to reach his potential. His first wife, also called Diana, did so little for him in life. She taught comparative literature and thought the life of a physician's wife ideal. Diana Aello knew differently, though. She'd fought her way up through the drudge work, through the ancient patrician system to gain Zefram's notice. She was not about to let him waste his family name.

Diana was the one who convinced him his destiny lay in politics. She was the one smiling at his side, writing his speeches, prompting his answers. In the end, she was the one played up his family assets, two children in Starfleet - one a captain and the other a scientist, and turned him from quiet country physician to aging patrician.

Diana knew she should have felt happy. That much she knew. She didn't, though. It was so much responsibility, too keep up the family name and keep up the patrician power. She stroked a hand through her silver hair. Still, she'd always been able to count on Ares to help.

They were so close in age. Ares had been everything Zefram couldn't be: a confidant, a co-conspirator, even a friend.

More importantly, Ares understood what patrician power and traditionalism bought on Alpha Centauri, a planet built around conservatism and the status quo. He'd helped convince Zefram that the Thrace could accomplish more in Nova Roma than New Athens. He backed Diana when she urged Zefram to politics. Ares even helped her gain a position as an ambassador.

Together they pulled the Thrace name back from the brink of obscurity.

Together they planned to position Erigone in just the right place to take over when they were both gone. Together they mourned Wolf 359 and the loss of both Kyra and Lysistrata.

In return, when Ares asked, she kept her silence about her niece, his daughter, her granddaughter. Like so many things over the years, Zefram simply didn't need to know. Besides, Zefram wouldn't have understood the needs then. He didn't have the mind for politics that his son had.

In truth, there had been nothing she could refuse Ares. Nothing.

Zefram wouldn't understand that, either.

She'd held so many secrets for Ares over the years; too many secrets.

Safe houses, lists of names, data, any myriad number of things, secrets she didn't fully understand until four years ago. Secrets far worse than any ambition she may have had over the years: she learned that much Ares disappeared.

She kept those secrets still. Some things were just too repugnant for the light of day. Some things should stay buried. That, too, numbered among her responsibilities.

Now, temporarily assigned to the Federation's Security Council, she had even more in her hands. The council sat on the brink, torn between two factions. It felt as if it were her heart that would be cleft in twain, torn apart with the Federation. It was a grave responsibility and though she did not want it, it had been thrust upon and the time for action would be soon.

Who knew such things, such weighty things, were the price of ambition?

Kheiron, her personal aide, entered the room. "There's an incoming message for you, Ambassador Thrace."

"Who is it, Kheiron?" she stood and straightened her grey gown.

He tilted his head to the side. "I'm not certain, Madame Ambassador.

It's coming in encrypted to you personally. If I did not know better, I would say it is your brother, but he hasn't contacted you in quite some time."

A lump raised in Diana's throat. She turned pale. Her hand trembled.

"I'll take it in here. Leave me." Her voice betrayed her rising emotions.

"Madame Ambassador?"

"Leave me. See that this room is secure."

Kheiron backed respectfully from the room. When he was gone, she pulled out a small black box and set it near the terminal. It gave a soft hum when she tapped it. She sat and took a deep breath.

The view screen flickered to life. A familiar face appeared, taking up nearly all of the view screen. She could tell nothing of the background. He looked extremely haggard. He looked a deathly shade of gray.

"Sweet merciful Minerva," she whispered, unable to believe her eyes.

"Is it really you?"

He nodded. "Hello, 'mother.' I need a favor."

"Scouring the Archives"

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa - ACTO USS Miranda
Joran - Bartender, USS Miranda

Cantina - USS Miranda

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

"I can't ssssay I've ever done resssearch in a bar, Missster Joran.

Field sssstudy yesss, but background resssearch? A novel concept, you'll agree?

The man behind the bar cleaned broken glass from the floor and said nothing, merely looking at the questioner. Since the Indefatigable incident, Joran hadn't seen the Gorn from Tactical in the Cantina - before, the saurian and his chessboard held court Tuesdays and Thursdays so reliably that it was necessary to change the menu those days to an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Chess, apparently, acted as a Gorn appetite stimulant.

Th'Khiss K'aa drummed his claws on the mahogany surface, waiting patiently for a response from the El-Aurian, who slowly smiled behind his dark-tinted sunglasses. "Alright Mister K'aa - what can I do for you? Keep in mind that the subject of my mixology is strictly off limits. Higher ranking officers than you have tried and failed."

The Gorn slowly shook his head. "I typically don't indulge, Joran. My questionsss are of a more hissstorical bent. What can you tell me of 2310?"

"Why ask me, Mister K'aa? I'm only a bartender."

The reptile revealed more of his teeth than usual. "No, Joran.

You're a Lissstener. I've come to lisssten to what you have heard."

~Ah. A thinker. At last.~

The El-Aurian finished scooping a pile of broken glass into a trash bin and stood up, stretching his spine in the process. "2310. Good year for Meriodor and Romulan Ale. Saurian brandy was off though - bad year for their grapes I suppose."

"And vintagesss quite beyond my current financessss asss well", K'aa observed. "But not what I'm looking for. I ssseek information more relavent to our current sssituation. You were on the firssst Miranda at the time, yesss? What can you tell me of Operation Unity, ssspecifically the Eassstern Powersss?"

Joran caught himself almost laughing at the question. "If you know that Mister K'aa, then you know the Miranda-A wasn't involved in that area of the conflict. We were... busy elsewhere."

Again, the Gorn shook his head. "Yesss... interesssting timesss. But you were alive then Joran, and you're a Lissstener. What you hear of the Operation?"

"That was almost half a century ago - any tactical information..."

"Would be lesss than ussselesss. Yessss - I know, but I want to know what you heard of the co-operation of the Hydransss with the Lyran and Klingon Empiresss." K'aa ceased his drumming and folded the fingers of his claws together.

"Pleasssse."

The last word from the lieutenant caught Joran by surprise. ~Please.

That's a lot of Gorn pride being swallowed.~ K'aa held his position on the barstool, which creaked periodically under the strain of his bulk, but otherwise the large reptile didn't move, keeping both yellow eyes fixed on the bartender. Finally, the El-Aurian nodded. "OK.

Operation Unity. What do you need to know?"

"The Eassstern Powersss. Dessscribe them."

"The strongest and the weakest. Klingon D5's and D7's. Lyran ESG's.

Hydran Hellbores and Fusion Beams. And fighters, yet's not forget them. Good ships, good firepower - but couldn't work together to save their lives." Behind his trademark sunglasses Joran closed his eyes at the memory of those dark days - a war that spanned both Alpha and Beta quarants against a common enemy from another galaxy. "They survived by the skin of their teeth. Why is this important now?"

K'aa shifted his weight on the barstool which squealed loudly in protest. "It may not be, but any information on the Hydransss may be ussseful in a war, not jusst a battle. The religiousss factionsss and the Ssstarbeasst cult - were they involved?"

A slight grin crept onto Joran's face. "That's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

~Excellent~, K'aa thought. ~Primary source. Firssst hand obssservation. Reliable witnessss.~ "I'm all earsss", he answered, displaying a row of gleaming fangs that suggested otherwise.

"Flight"

Vaebn (NPC - Stuart)

RNI Operative

****

Ra'tleihfi

ch'Rihan

****

As Branak's limp body slipped to the floor, Vaebn seethed with anger. The two, whom he believed were connected with the people who had tortured him, were going to pay, and with their lives, so swore Vaebn, Faelirh (son) of Darok i'Ihhliae tr'Jaihen.

Turning from the two Rihanna, he quickly strode over to the now open weapon cabinet and pulled out a Disruptor to go with the one he had taken from the body of the dead Gorn. Slipping it into his belt next to it's mate, he pulled out a long knife to replace the makeshift one he held in his pocket. Finally he picked up a particle weapon of unknown origin. Vaebn had to smile at how a man who hardly left the bar could have acquired so many different weapons. Leaving the Klingon Bat'leth, Cardassian hand weapon, Breen disruptor and Federation phaser rifle in the cabinet, he repeated the sequence of keys that he had seen Branak enter many times and the cabinet closed silently.

From the darkened doorway, Vaebn watched as the two Rihanna cautiously made their way down the steps. His heart quickened at the thought of killing again. Taking aim with the particle weapon, he fired. With a grim satisfaction, he watched as the beam pierced the shoulder of the lead Rihanna, the heat from the beam causing the blood in his veins to flash boil, and explode from his body in a loud tearing of flesh as the arm was ripped from it's socket.

The second Rihanna turned towards his position before the first even knew his arm was missing. Vaebn had to duck into the room as the disruptor blasts hit the wall nearby. He could feel the heat from the disruptor blasts as he waited to fire his weapon again. Finding an opportunity, he aimed and squeezed the trigger, and got but a splutter of noise for his troubles. Ducking back again, he looked down at the rifle and saw a small light cycling slowly along a substantial display line. It took him but a moment to realize that it was going to take several minutes to charge up again.

Dropping the weapon to the floor, he pulled out one of the disruptors and prepared to fire. As he lined up the second of the two Rihanna, he felt, rather than heard, the disruptor blast that passed within close proximity to his head, searing his flesh in the process. Falling back into the room, Vaebn checked his face with his hand, feeling it rub over the raw flesh that remained in a small line across the side of his face. He thanked his lucky stars that it had missed both his ear and eye. Kicking closed the door, Vaebn rose to look out the window again. Three more Rihanna, dressed identically to the first two, had entered the building and were coming down the stairs to join the first two.

Things weren't looking so good anymore.

There had to be a way out. Vaebn was sure of that. Branak may have been a fool, but he hadn't been a stupid fool. He would have had an escape route from his office. There was no doubt of that. Vaebn just had to find and then use it. And he didn't have much time. Starting at the computer terminal, Vaebn quickly and carefully looked around, looking for anything that might indicate the way out. He pause momentarily as a voice called out from the dance floor.

"Vaebn, We are here to help you. We have no intention of killing you. Come out and we'll talk about it."

Without answering, he continued to look, as his eyes passed over books and statues and all manner of objects that Branak had collected over the years. He fingers traced the contours of a small model of a Delon class scout ship that the Military had used many years ago when he and Branak had been in training together.

"Vaebn," the voice called out, "your brother Deletham sent us to find you."

Vaebn felt his blood start to boil at the mere mention of his brother's name. How did they know? "My brother is dead." he shouted back, before resuming his search for the trapdoor or escape route that he knew was there somewhere.

"No he isn't. He survived the fire that killed your family. He lives and wants to see you." The voice called out again.

The hair on the back of Vaebn's neck was standing up. Something was wrong. Looking back at the objects, he noticed something he had missed before. There were five models of ships in a row in nooks of the large bookcase that lined one wall. Five ships that they had used during their military training, in order from first used to the last one, a huge troop carrier that had only been retired from service just last year. Yet two of them were in the wrong spots. Moving back to the models, he saw that the Delon scout ship and the attack fighter that they had trained with during their second year were in the wrong order. Vaebn wondered if it was that simple. Deciding to try it, he carefully pulled the two models from their nooks and placed them in the correct places.

At first nothing happened. But after a few moments, a small shaft of light shone through a crack in the bookcase, just above his head. It was followed closely by two more, perpendicular to the first, at its ends, forming the shape of a door. Smiling at the simplicity of it, Vaebn pushed the bookcase and the door swung backwards into the wall, revealing a tunnel.

Walking back to the particle weapon, he picked it up, noting that it was fully charged as he did. Looking out the window, he saw the Rihanna preparing to storm the room. "Why did you kill Branak?" He shouted as he pressed a couple of buttons on the powerful weapon. It started whining, the sound growing louder with each passing second. Vaebn had set it to overload.

"He was working for cheDrstok, the Orion pirate and renegade, selling weapons and slaves for him." The man replied, as he peered up at the mirrored wall. He knew that it was more than likely not a mirror on the other side, and that right that moment Vaebn was likely looking at him. So he waved. "Come on, Vaebn, we mean you no harm. Come out and talk to us."

"You lie!" Vaebn shouted back, before setting the weapon down and running for the tunnel.

He hoped the ensuing explosion might slow them down enough for him to escape.

"Sir," one of the men called out to the first Rihanna, the one who had just conversed with Vaebn. "the scanner says that he is on the move. There must be an escape tunnel or something in there."

"Storm the room, I'll see if I can cut him off from up top." he said before bounding up the steps towards the front entrance.

He had just reached the antechamber when an almighty explosion tore through the office and the resulting flame and debris billowed into the club killing the three Rihanna where they stood. The shockwave sent the lone surviving Rihanna flying through the doors to the club and to the ground outside.

"Cyber Medical Emergency"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy
Lieutenant Savant, Fleet Logistics Officer, USS Galaxy
Eve, Intelligence Technical Officer, USS Galaxy
Ensign Jareth Jarex (NPC, Various Players)

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

USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay

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

Sickbay was, to put it mildly, bedlam. The aftermath of a battle, especially one such as this was never a pleasant scene. There were wounded all over sickbay, on biobeds, antigrav gurneys, a few camping beds that had been set up here and there, and in one or two places there were even people on the floor. Even though the ship had stopped shaking a while back after the retreat had been ordered, the work on the wounded and dying continued.

Medical staff were clustered together in small groups here and there, in twos or threes attempting to save the life of some unfortunate who had been badly injured in the fight. In other placed scattered Doctors and Nurses circulated amongst the patients dispensing kind words and medicine in equal volumes as they checked on the crew scattered around sickbay.

The doors swished open and in came yet another casualty. She had no external signs of injury, but the deathly pallor of her face spoke of the gravity of her situation. Eve lay, calm and serene, on the antigrav stretcher being manoeuvered through the doorway by Dupont and Lieutenant Bental. Tears streaked her cheeks as if she had been crying the entire trip up from the Intel centre yet she was unconscious, moving naught but the autonomous muscular actions inspired by the naturally progressing of impulses streaming from her central nervous system.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," a random EMH parroted as the gurney was pushed in.

Saul scowled. He preferred doctors made of flesh and blood rather than subroutines, especially in cases which probably did not reside in the EMH's database.

"Ensign Eve here is a heavily augmented Human; She seemed to suffer from shock following the battle.", He said. Five centuries after the great world wars on earth, combat trauma was not 'shoved under the carpet' like in those primitive eras. Still, Eve's condition was much too complex to be dismissed as simple trauma.

Running a tricorder over Eve the EMH frowned for a moment then looked around, "Doctor Burton," he called, spying the CMO leaving a patients side nearby, "a moment please."

Saul turned his head toward the pretty doctor, and smiled.

"Get back to CIC, we're in good hands." He whispered in Ensign Dupont's ears; The gaunt Frenchman acknowledged, and soon vanished through sickbay's doors.

Joining the EMH beside the stretcher Kimberly nodded to Saul as she pulled out her tricorder, "Lieutenant," she greeted him, "What happened?" she asked as she scanned Eve.

"Hey Doctor Kimberly." Saul greeted back, and patted the unconscious Ensign on the shoulder. "It seems this Ensign ate a little more than she could emotionally chew."

He continued to recount the events until that point, unaware that his crowd included more people beyond just Burton and the EMH...

Savant had been in the medical ward only a short time - she was carrying some crates of medical supplies along with one of her enlisted crewmen. Records showed that Medical was getting drastically low (given the current rush), and given the current rush it only seemed prudent to deliver. Not that she wanted to think it was going to be a habit.

When Eve entered upon that gurney however, Savant took note. The first thing that caught her eye was the uniqueness of the specimen which Eve presented. What a marvelously unique form! Like her studies of the Borg, but at the same time entirely different. Her condition registered a nanosecond later (fifteen thousand processor ticks, more than enough time to give Eve's uniqueness proper thought), and Savant put the mostly empty crate down to let the crewman finish.

She headed over to the woman's bedside as she was being put into the bed, watching with a look of concern upon her face (A blend of Concentrated Stare #5 and Sorrow #14, both good emotions by themselves). Instead of asking something inane like "what's wrong?"

(she could see that herself after all) She asked, "Is there some way that I can help, Doctor?"

"Savant." Saul prompted, recognizing the voice. The android gave Saul a disarming smile and replied in turn, "Saul."

Trying to recall Eve's file Kimberly initially ignored the voices around her as she scanned the tricorder readings. Looking up she motioned to Saul and Savant, "Yes, you can, help me get her up on a biobed," she asked. Looking around she scanned the ward for an empty bed and motioned the two to follow her with the stretcher.

Savant did so gladly, easing Eve's unconscious form from the stretcher and onto the medical bed. As she did so, she watched the girl cautiously. Savant's internal scanners were in overdrive, even while she hooked into the medical scanning suite. "Her autonomic functions seem almost entirely baseline. What sort of trauma was this?" The question was almost rhetorical, but it was still a good one.

"The emotional type." Saul replied in a hollow tone. The android nodded in reply, as nothing further needed to be said on the matter.

She was sure Eve would wake up when she was ready, so there wasn't as much of an emergency - that's how living beings generally worked. Eve was a special case apparently, but even so, chances were good she would wake up before too long. That was when the *actual* healing could start.

Transferring Eve to the bed with the assistance of the others Kimberly activated its scanners and called up Eve's files on a PADD. "This may take a moment," she informed the two, "if you need to wait for some reason try and keep out of the way of everyone please," she asked without looking at them.

The Chief of intelligence nodded. He was anxious about Eve's condition, but he knew he'll only interfere. He stepped back and took a vantage point on a nearby bench, determined to make sure that Eve is treated in due time regardless of the current pressure. Savant did the same, allowing the local medical staff and software to do their jobs.

She could watch closely with the medical scanners, after all.

Meanwhile, another young man was carried into sickbay by a tall muscular man. Running Tree carried to boy over to a nurse, "He's unconscious...." he nodded to the Ensign's head, "which would likely be cause from the big bump on his head."

Nodding, Nurse Aya raised her tricorder and quickly scanned the unconscious Ensign, Looking around she called to a nearby EMH that was busy trying to restock a code blue cart, "Doctor, cranial trauma with probable concussion," she called out. Indicating a nearby stretcher that had been recently vacated by Eve she led Running Tree over to it.

"Put him on here, we'll have a look now."

Running Tree lay the ensign on the stretcher and after a few words with the EMH, he left.

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

A few moments later

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

Lights flooded his eyes as Jereth took a sharp breath. He blinked and realized he was in sickbay. His attempt to sit up was blocked by a hand. He sighed and looked about and blinked seeing a very familiar, very pretty face. "Eve?"

Savant supplied an answer, trying to find something appropriately gentle. She found it. "She's asleep right now. She's fine so far as medical sensors can tell." The android smiled slightly, "You have a concussion, Ensign. She'll be fine, don't worry."

Jareth nodded slowly, relief washing over his features. He kept his head turned towards her, watching her every movement, not that there was much of that happening.

Savant exhaled (more a show than really needing to breathe) and crossed her arms, looking back at Eve with an even expression. She felt a need to speak - something to cut through the terrible worry that was beginning to press down on the room. It wasn't every day that someone suffered emotional trauma with a severity that put them into unconsciousness. Small talk wasn't really a good option, though she had excellent subroutines for the task. That would probably have a negative response. Best to stay on-topic. "That girl has some remarkable hardware. It almost seems confused with what's going on."

"What do you mean?" The young ensign was perplexed: how could hardware be confused? Conflicting programs perhaps, but confused?"

The android grinned slightly, though didn't look at the ensign - she appeared to be spacing out, looking across the room and to the wall beyond. "Just like biological confusion is nothing more than conflicting chemical systems. The physical is just a substrate for the soul, Ensign."

"Oh," was all he could say to that. Such things often confused him, talk about souls and such subjectivities. About that time an orderly came over to him to tend to his head, the view to Eve sumarily blocked. A few minutes later the orderly finished her work and departed for another patient and Jareth once again drank in the sight of Eve, laying there aparently as if asleep. It was a sight that tore his heart out, knowing there was nothing he could do to help except sit and wait for whatever happened next.

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

Meanwhile

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

Somewhere in that place between asleep and awake, where you still remember dreaming, that's where you would find Eve. She could hear it all, feel it all, taste, smell - everything was there and yet she could do nothing. Locked out of her own body, she felt helpless, trapped! What was going on? Did the Hydrans follow us after all, and capture everyone? If so, why? So many questions, and no answers were forthcoming.

Eventually, she heard it stated that there was nothing more that could be done for Eve: all of her bodily functions, organic and synthetic, were operating in sync and within parameters "normal" for her.

Something hissed against her left thigh, and all went to darkness.

Ens Artim- Science Officer

Ember Lansky

"Its a Hard Knock Life"

It was impossible to run. There were memories held in every place, every corner, every niche.

With a drink in her hand, Ember's gaze was locked faraway, looking out past the window into the distant stars. Her back against the seat, she seemed deeply lost in her thoughts, oblivious to the people or the noise level in the lounge. Ten-Forward was not the most conducive of places for peaceful ruminations, but for the moment at least, she appeared unperturbed. Her stillness was momentarily broken when a soft sigh -- barely audible, escaped from her lips, and she took a small sip from the glass. Yet, it was only a second before she returned to her quiet state.

Artim had been perched in his standard position by the bar with some terran wine. It was something he didn't indulge in often but enjoyed whenever he did. He'd just come from the holodeck, his personal program based on his old home on Mira. Given the current state of affairs on ch'Rian he'd been a little melancoly. Despite the standing invitation for dinner with her family, he hadn't heard from Valera since he'd gotten back from Cheron and he wondered if he'd ever get the chance to show the person that had encouraged him to make it the program. As he looked around Ten Forward he noticed one of the few people that he'd brought into the program, Ember, sitting in the corner. Why he did what he did next he didn't know but before he could change his mind he was over at her table and said in a voice that was more genial then his anxious mood would permit if he wasn't still biologically a child,

"Hi there. You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Actually, she didn't need someone to talk to. She would much rather be alone with her thoughts. If it was in the past, Ember would just snap right back at the person who had intruded and told him to mind his own business. But it was now, and some measure of her brashness seemed to have been put out. There just wasn't enough of it left for her to muster it anymore, and she was too tired to muster it. Besides, it wasn't a complete stranger who had approached her. It was a kind-of-old friend. They came onboard the ship at the same time, and maybe that in itself gave them some kind of bond -- a shred of commonality, at the very least.

"Sure, whatever," She said softly with a shrug, indicating the seat right next to her, which he could take if he wanted.

"Thanks",Artim took the seat and looked out the window too. He wasn't sure why he still liked Ember. She hadn't exactly reacted the way he would have liked when he brought her to the holodeck. Perhaps it was common hardship that kept him closer, having to fight off a strange situation together. Who knows, maybe Brian could help him in their next session.

"So, whats on your mind Ember?"

She smiled, but there was almost no mirth in that smile of hers. "You wouldn't want to get into my mind, Artim." Heck, even she didn't particularly relish being in her mind right now. She leaned back, letting a length of silence fall between them as she gazed out into the stars. She had to constantly remind herself that despite having the appearance of a child, Artim had lived centuries longer than she ever had or could. And so, he had probably seen more than she ever would in her lifetime. It was a hard concept to wrap her head around.

"You've lost a lot, haven't you?" She asked abruptly.

Artim snapped from jovial to serious in expression in a nanosecond when she asked the question. Of course he had lost alot, she'd seen what he had, one of the few who had. She had to be asking for a reason, but he wasn't going to show he was being affected.

"You could say that. Though I've gotten some things back."

Yes, Ember *had* seen what Artim had lost. And to lose an entire homeworld, was nothing short of devastating. Yet, Artim had climbed right back up, and here he was, sitting beside her, almost like nothing had happened, except for the scars concealed within the heart.

"But it doesn't really make up for the losses, does it?" Ember said softly in a whisper, a rhetorical statement that was put across simply, and matter-of-factly.

"No, I suppose it doesn't. But look at it like this, I did live on a dead world scrounging and fighting just to survive for three centuries . Yeah, it was hard , but if they're right, I got another 7,000 years or so to look forward to. While it was alot of my life now, there's still plenty of time to live."

OK, so now he was just rationalizing. This is what he always told the shrinks to get them to not probe. It stopped the bad ones and was enough of a distraction to the good ones to break away. Ember probably didn't realize it but she was pretty near his last defense. The look on his face was tense, but yet jovial.

"Do you really think that?" Ember asked, turning to look at Artim and again, the disparity struck her. Wisdom in a face of innocence, emotional scars bleeding in secret in a person who did not look old enough to have been through any such horrors. "No matter what comes of the future... would it ever be enough to make the past any more bearable? The losses any less painful?" She mused wryly, her voice gently intoxicating yet filled with subtle sadness as she spoke the words slowly. "Are we just pretending to ourselves that we heal, when we don't? Maybe underneath the scabs that grow over the wounds, we are as vulnerable as ever."

"They say time heals all wounds" Artim said nonchalantly as if he didn't totally beleive it. Of course that would be because he didn't beleive it. He'd had over a century in relative comfort to heal. His emotional wounds, despite being under lots of bandages, were still oozing after all this time. He didn't like opening up about it, but he saw no reason not to.

"But you're right, healing is often more illusion then fact. Its always something we like to say is happening but whether its emotional or physical wounds its often a lie. A farce created to make one feel better. I've had a century and I don't feel any better."

Ember nodded at that answer, seeming satisfied at the honesty she detected in it. In some ways, the look in her eyes almost seemed to say that she understood and could relate to it perfectly. She held the glass at her lips, barely brushing its surface. "It's frightening sometimes how you can carry on every day, normal, well, like it's finally okay. But the forgetfulness is only temporary. When it hits you again, and it does, it's almost as if all the time you've had to heal never existed, because suddenly, it feels once more like it happened only yesterday -- vivid, real, and unforgettable."

The contemplative admission, as it were, was suddenly cut short incongrously by a soft chuckle. And then, she summed up the sentiment, briefly and poignantly. "It sucks."

Artim took a long sip of his drink and then replied,

"Life often does. But we gotta try and move on. Of course if we did then we'd put alot of shrinks out of a job." Artim added a chuckle more befitting of his physical age then his actual one. "Not much use for shrinks if you ask me..." Ember shrugged, not seeming to care about the political correctness of her comment, or who it might offend. After attending so many counselling sessions, she still didn't see any good coming out of them at all. Maybe it wasn't because they weren't qualified enough to help her move on, but because in her heart, she never did want to move on. She couldn't. So there she was... still stuck, despite the passage of time that's supposed to heal and make it all more bearable. Why didn't it? Even the far-distant stars blinking back at her through the window couldn't offer an answer.

Artim just shrugged, "Eh, same here. I prefer to take care of things for myself."

If thats what you called shutting yourself in the holodeck for hours crying. Somehow he convinced himself it helped. Then again, it didn't. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Time was overrated. He did think there might be a way to help both of them.

"That program I showed you, the one of my homeworld, you seemed comfortable there. I keep it in protected memory, but I could give you access if you like. Could go whenever."

A flicker of a smile appeared on her face, as though she hadn't expected that gesture of goodwill from him. She knew how privately guarded he was about that program, and yet, here he was, offering it to her without asking anything in return. It suddenly made her realise that sometimes, having friends wasn't such a bad thing. Perhaps she had been too hasty to swear them off. "That would be... nice. Thanks," She said. And then, she honestly didn't know what else to say, what else there could be to add on to the already-inadequate words. So she stayed silent, and that was the way they remained as they sat together and took in the view before them, enjoying each other's company and the meagre solace that it offered.

"I'll take care of it this afternoon then." Artim said smiling, though it quickly turned back to a serious expression when the Red Alert klaxons sounded.

"Guess the lizards are here. Looks like we have to go to work. Hopefully we'll both live through this..."

"Secure"

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

= Hidden Tal'Shiar Base =

=Romulus=

For a time nothing existed but warmth and silence. She lay in the water without concern, or distraction, or the crushing weight of the past few days, and when Elissa ascended from this secret baptism, she felt whole again. The Romulan woman stood by, watching her as she wrung out her hair and blotted her face with the towel that had been provided. The Tal'Shiar agent had a wooden expression, stern and unshakable. Her eyes looked down at the young woman.

"Thank you," Elissa ventured, smiling.

Saying nothing, the Romulan set down a clean uniform, much like her own, but without the jacket and sash.

Elissa frowned at it. "Should I be wearing that?"

"There's nothing else right now," the woman said abruptly. There was a fire in her eyes, and she watched Elissa dress with what felt like the strongest contempt. Uncomfortable, the Ensign quickly donned the black uniform. "Come with me."

She was led to a small room that had a table, two chairs, and a glass of water. Instructed to sit down, she did so, and sipped at the water, waiting, expecting to see Aerv soon. When the door re-opened, however, it was not Aerv that greeted her but another Romulan military officer, who wore a friendly smile that, disturbingly, never seemed to leave his face.

"Jolan tru, Elissa Skylark."

She blinked, setting the glass down. "Hello," she replied uncertainly.

"I am Terrh tr'Illialhale. I am an Uhlan in the Tal'Shiar. I'd like to be your friend," he declared with honey-coated sweetness.

She studied his strange smile for a moment, "...alright."

"For security purposes, I'd like to ask you a few questions. Will you cooperate?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" she retorted, straight-faced.

"None," his smile remained, "none at all." He set a nondescript looking PADD on the table and pressed a button. "Now, for the record, could you please state your name, rank, and assignment?"

"Elissa Skylark, Ensign, USS Exeter."

"Thank you. Now, may I ask what you were doing on Romulus?"

"Sure."

His jaw clenched, but that smile remained. They stared at each other.

Elissa picked up the glass and took another drink. He cleared his throat. "What were you doing on Romulus?"

"I was meeting with a fellow scientist, Sorval. He's a very accomplished anthropologist. Was. He died in the attack."

"How did he die?"

Her gaze turned to steel. "The Hydrans killed him."

"I apologize," he said, straight-faced. "That must have been difficult for you."

"Just a little."

His eyes raised at her bluntness, then he settled back in his chair.

"Human sarcasm. Very amusing." He nodded, as if noting some great insight. "Let's talk about Aerv tr'Ahalaen."

"Shouldn't you be using his title?"

"Please," he smiled, "allow me to ask the questions. It is very important for us to know if, during his time with you, in a moment of vulnerability, he might have mentioned anything about the Tal'Shiar and it's operations."

She shook her head.

"Are you certain? Did he not know that we kept a base here, underground, in this very spot? What are the odds that the two of you would stumble into a place like this?"

"He was at the temple. And we stopped inside the hermitage. It was me who decided to keep walking into this place."

"Did he tell you anything about the Hydrans? Perhaps he knew something of how and why they were here. Something that might be of use to us?"

He was digging, that much Elissa knew. But she was not sure what he was looking for. "Nothing," she said. "I have nothing to hide."

"Clearly. You're a very honest person. Even when hiding from an enemy while innocents pay the price for your inaction."

She looked at him, feeling betrayed and exposed. He knew? Had the Tal'Shiar heard everything? She put her face in her hands and leaned her elbows on the table. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Of course you don't, but you agreed to..." The door slid open, and he stopped mid-sentence to look at the door. Elissa peered behind golden strands of hair, hoping to see Aerv. But it was just another Tal'Shiar officer, this one much older, and of a much less cheerful disposition.

He beckoned the smiling man out, and she watched him exit. From this side of the wall, she could hear a very brief, very heated discussion.

A moment later, Terrh tr'Illialhale walked back in, his smile bright and stance accommodating. "Thank you so much for your time, Elissa Skylark.

It is my hope that your time here was not an inconvenience.

Ambassador tr'Ahalaen has requested your attention in the docking bay."

A docking bay? This far underground? Skylark stood up, tugged at the tight uniform, and composed herself. "Thank you," she said, with a smile of her own. She wondered if he could tell she didn't mean it, and a moment later, she didn't care. Whatever had been his goal in questioning her, he had failed, and that made her incredibly happy. She nodded at the old man standing outside, and he nodded back.

Then she hurried through the underground complex, anxious to leave this company behind.

"Spirited Away"

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

=Somewhere Above Romulus=

Their exodus happened without incident. There was no parting of the Red Sea, no declaration, no fanfare. The vessel named Aehallh worked in secret, staying in the dark, as concerned with the Hydrans as the solar winds that blew through the system. Arms were raised elsewhere, battle shouts that did not reach the vacuum that the cloaked Romulan ship pierced like a dagger.

The hum of the engines accompanied the ambient green light that bathed the crowded hallway. Romulan men, women and children huddled in the dark, their eyes a mixture of relief and anticipation and grief. Elissa Skylark stepped past them, deferring to them as much as they did to Ambassador tr'Ahalaen, who marched confidently right down the middle.

They eyed her with confusion, this human woman dressed in the black uniform of the Tal'Shiar, but possessing no rank, no weapon, and no authority in tr'Ahalaen's wake, her hair an island of gold in a sea of black and brown. She was relieved that he was commanding most of their attention.

Aerv placed his hands on the heads of two children standing near his assigned quarters, and they smiled. She felt her heart skip and fought back an urge to simply weep for the joy in their eyes. Pulling at the tight collar of the form-fitting uniform, Elissa was beginning to understand what Aerv meant to his people, but she could see through the stride and set jaw and posture, see him putting on airs for their sake.

It was strange to witness a man so possessed of the skill to bend the will and hearts of those around him. Even knowing him as she did, now, Elissa couldn't help but feel a little awe. She heard them whisper in their language the same word over and over again, 'Sienov.'

He disappeared into the doorway that led to his private quarters aboard the ship. One of the few, considering the refugees. It was symbolic of the status he held. She wondered what was in their thoughts as she followed him into the threshold.

Then the door closed, and she realized she'd been holding her breath.

Elissa leaned against the wall and inhaled deeply. "Why am I here?" she asked him, while his back was still turned, arms clasped behind him and staring out into space.

When he turned to face her now, there was something different about his eyes. Dark eyes like, only a moment ago been impenetrable, seemed...

warm - for lack of a better word - human again, as if meant only for her. It was this, she instinctively realized - more than his handsome features or his pretty words - that made him so charming a man, and a man so dangerous.

"You would have preferred to stay on Romulus?"

She folded her arms and returned his gaze evenly. "That's not what I meant."

He smiled that endearing smile of his, "Yes... I actually knew what you were talking about that time."

"And he keeps dancing," Elissa replied with a resigned sigh, speaking more to the air between them than at him. Her eyebrows raised reproachfully and she bared her palms to him. "Do I look like a negotiator, or an ambassador, or a flag officer? No. Scientists speak plainly and mean what they say. I'm not a part of your world of words."

tr'Ahalaen gave her a sly look, turned and walked up to the nearest viewport. "I know, Faith. That is why you are here."

"So," she walked over and stood next to him. "How did you come by that name?"

"The word you heard out there - Sienov - it is not really a name, but a title. It means 'The Sword'. One of the more celebrated honors among my people is a special sword, given by the Senate, to certain...heroes.

It is called 'The Blade of the Declared'. I happen to have been given one of those blades."

She shrugged. "It sort of fits you."

"I quite despise it actually," Aerv replied, turning and leaning against the bulkhead, "But you may not tell anyone that."

Skylark found herself grinning, and tried to hide it, but only managed to purse her lips, giving her a look of impish amusement. "It does make you sound like a tool, doesn't it?"

tr'Ahalaen laughed, "I was recently informed that I was one.... But, now that you have me speaking the truth, are these really the questions you want to ask me?"

"Honestly, I don't know what I want right now." Elissa stepped forward and straightened his collar, resting her arms on his chest in friendly intimacy while she did. "I don't think you're a tool. I think you wield your influence like a sword. Maybe that's what they really mean."

The Rihannsu looked deep into her deep blue eyes with his own gaze of brazen, dark intensity and then, after a moment, shook his head. "How do you do that?"

"Simple," she said quietly, "I have no filter between my heart and my mouth."

"I cannot understand you," tr'Ahalaen replied, turning away from her as he began to pace the length of the room, "It cannot be about beauty - you are gorgeous, and yet you are modest about your body. And yet, when it comes to your soul, you will show your scars. Part of me loved you without even knowing you - because I felt like I knew you.

"And me?" He asked, turning face her, his eyes burning with a fire they were unused to, his voice pleading instead of commanding, "When I die, they will mourn. The Empire will mourn. But not for Sienovan. They will mourn for the Blade, the Ambassador, the son, the brother.... No one will mourn for the man. No one knows the man. They love only the mask."

"No one's forcing you to wear a mask," she said simply.

Aerv gave her a disdainful look and turned away from her again. "You do not know what it means to be Rihannsu." He paused, took a deep breath, and shook his head, "I am the heir to the Ahalaen. I am a Blade of the Declared. I cannot just...."

She laughed. For such a musical sound, it hit him like ice. "Look,"

she said, catching his eyes and trying to hold his gaze. He looked stung. "I'm not saying you go on the holonet and broadcast this. I know you have responsibilities. But there's no excuse for you to treat those you care about like they were fragile subjects in need of direction, or purpose, or..." She shook her head emphatically. "What I'm trying to say is... I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I saw you trying to hide your scars like they were ugly, but they weren't.

Okay? So stop talking about dying and being remembered, because I don't even want to think about it." Her eyes welled up, and she turned aside and wiped them with her sleeve, muttering, "great..."

That took the fire out of his voice, and he smiled, almost sadly and slowly walked up to her. Placing a hand at the nape of her neck, he touched his forehead against hers. When she looked up, she found him smiling down at her fondly, "I don't get you," he admitted quietly, "But you're incredible."

"Blah blah blah," she replied dismissively, glancing at his shoulder askance. Awkwardly, she stood on her toes and kissed him gingerly, shaking a little, and then not at all as she felt emboldened. As it grew more intense, Elissa pulled away with effort. She laughed nervously. "Had to get that out of the way." She knew he wanted more, and a part of her screamed for stopping, but something held her back.

"Is this where I am supposed to go back to wearing my mask?"

"No," she said, matching his smile. "That would be stupid."

"Ah...you do realize that if I do not, I will - at some point - kiss you again."

She made as if to straighten his collar again, this time only playing with it. "I'm willing to take that risk."

"Good," he said with a grin - it was not the usual, practised smile he usually gave people - it was a little too lopsided, entirely to boyish for that, "Then so am I."

=End Log=

"Beaten, But Not Defeated"

Captain Darren M'Kantu, USS Galaxy (Robert)
Brevet Captain Jaal Jaxom, USS Miranda (Cliff)
Captain Tara Reynolds, formerly of USS Concorde (Pat)
Captain Rianastarra'cessk, USS Arizona (Kate)
Captain Rebecca Weber, USS Texas (Becky)
Captain Kent Logan, USS London (Rich)
Captain T'Riele, USS Sao Paolo (Dave)
Captain Amelse Brodey, USS Thunderbird (MJ)
Captain J.P. Albrecht, USS Thunderchild (Dallas)
Captain Raymond Tango, USS Akira (Joe)
Captain Tenchi Masaki, USS Mukaikubo (NPC)
Captain Kailea Wrendo, USS Olympic (Ian)
Commander Jaal Jaxom, USS Miranda (Cliff)
Commander Drok Sydney, XO - USS Typhon (Eric)
Commander Na'sav Lorem, USS Valiant (Chris)
Commander Ares Treagor Khoma, USS Icarus (Juan)
Brevet Captain Brian Elessidil, USS Exeter (Brian)
Lt. Commander Rachel Summers, former XO, USS Hood (Pat)

Rihannsu Commander(s) enriov Fveirrolh Aehkhifv tr'Sahen - Warbird Aen'rhien (NPC)

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Main Conference Lounge

Daren checked the additional seating and the extensions to the table in the Conference Lounge one last time - unnecessarily, as it had been the last four times he'd checked - and shook his head. It would have been more convenient to handle this via holographic conference, but too many ships had damaged systems for that to be possible, thus his decision to do this the old-fashioned way... face to face.

The others would be arriving soon - he knew two shuttles were already here, reminders that their home vessels weren't capable of safely transporting their captains at the moment - and he was as ready as he was going to get. The Romulan participation... that was up to the Romulans. He'd passed on the necessary information, but whether or not their remaining High Command could overcome their shock to send someone was another story.

On the opposite wall, the door hissed open and he turned to greet the first arrival, pushing the knowledge that it wouldn't be Maggie or Chris aside for later. There would be time for that after the war was won.

It was rather amazing: though Typhon had been the last starship to arrive at the rally point, Commander Drok Sydney was the first to arrive at the meeting. Then again, Typhon had suffered the least at the hands of the Hydrans. "Captain," he spoke quietly, nodding to M'Kantu as he sat midway down one side of the table. "Captain DarkSky is in Typhon's sickbay. The bridge took an impact with debris and he needs to get his ribs patched up before joining us."

T'Riel of the Sao Paulo was the next to arrive and, despite the singed appearance of the left side of her uniform, managed to walk with most of her quiet, unassuming grace. "Statistically he is fortunate, then.

The Typhon received eleven direct Hellbore strikes. The list of casualties and missing is significant." In spite of her Vulcan self-discipline, a wince managed to escape her control as she took her seat. "We have been taught a number of lessons over Romulus - on behalf of the dead, I propose we put those lessons to exceptional use."

Three dead, eleven badly wounded... badly, by his interpretation, meant they were physically incapable of being any use to the ship at all. Fourteen people didn't seem like much... until one realized the Valiant had all of fifty on her. Almost a third of his crew were effectively lost to him... and the Valiant herself had sustained considerable damage... even if it was survivable. His own wounds weren't too grievous... a singed hand with some embedded shards of console screen from when his starboard side panel went up, and some minor first degree burns over his right arm and side. Unfortunately for them, the one person aboard who was a trained doctor was among the three killed, and the Valiant... operating under limited power... didn't have the energy to run the EMH. Auxiliary or emergency systems also weren't an option... the interface itself badly damaged, and the power distribution network impaired by battle damage control and repair processes.

Despite it all, Commander Na'sav Lorem was more interested in getting back to the fight... sitting at the table with the distant stare of someone confused. The shell-shocked look that came with fighting a rough battle... and stuck around on the losing side. He sat in silence, taking a pained breath before finally opening his mouth. "If anyone has space in their sickbays, I'd be forever grateful if you had beds available for some of my crew." Besides, he'd need everyone he could scrape together to go back. What he 'really' wanted to do was skirt past the Hydran fleet and attack again. By now the Hydrans too were licking their wounds... probably restocking their loads to complete the conquest. They didn't need to inflict a massive defeat... but they 'did' need to pin the Hydrans down until the initiative could be regained.

"Yes, we can do that," Daren answered without hesitation. "With the resources of the Olympic, we should be able to make certain that everyone has medical assistance."

It wasn't long before a battered and blood-stained figure limped in.

Ares Khoma flet exposed and vulnerable without his CO by his side, but Juan Holmes was still in the Icarus sickbay, being attended to by junior doctors who feared for his life, even while they were also fighting for the lives of so many others, including Commander Sevrus, the CMO of Icarus. Ares himself was weathering through his injuries.

He'd cleaned his face, but there was no clean uniform available; he made do with the burnt and tattered remains of the one he had.

Of those gathered, Tara Reynolds wasn't exactly sure she even had a place here anymore. She was a Captain with no ship - and precious little crew remaining. She watched as the others entered, trying as she might to make herself give a damn.

Major Corran Rex, however, had been elated to find Tara alive, and their brief reunion when she'd come aboard had lifted his spirits somewhat.

But still, out of the remaining fleet, he was the Senior SFFC officer present - and he was only a Major. Nominally, that now left him in command of all fighter operations. If the Trill had been the young man he appeared to be, such a notion would have made him nervous - instead, it just left him feeling tired.

Still - there was one woman in the room who looked even more ragged than Reynolds. Lt. Commander Rachel Summers, formerly of the Starship Hood, had not only lost her Captain, her ship, and much of her crew - she'd lost her father, too. Captain Christopher Summers, the late commander of the Miranda, had been that very man. Still, there was a focused steel in her eyes - for her father's sake, if no one else's, she wanted to go back to Romulus.

Captain J.P. Albrecht was untouched by the events of the last battle, but from his grim, deathlike face, he was far from happy about the result. He stormed into the conference room with an anger that would have challenged gods. His ship performed well in the combat, even confirming three kills from vessels of equal strength, but even those small victories were not enough. He was far from happy. He was not a man used to retreating.

Commander Jaxom walked in. The tall Trill looked around at those assembled. He gave a cursory nod in greeting those there. He didn't meet eyes with Rachel Summers but perhaps he'd get a chance to offer condolences about her father later. He didn't feel now was just the time. He found an empty seat and took it.

It appeared that Brian was the last, or at least among the last, to arrive and no one was more painfully aware that he was the new kid on the block here than he was. He'd been to meetings with captains, admirals, ambassadors and all sorts of Federation and foreign dignitaries; but this was the first time he was one of them, an equal.

Well, at least equal on paper. Sort of. Despite whatever skills or experience he may have had, Elessidil made no pretensions about his new-found role or his status vis-a-vis the rest of the officers assembled in this room.

"Captains," he greeted with a nod as he took a seat, trying to keep any hint of self-consciousness out of his voice. It had been difficult for him to leave his ship with so much that still needed to be done, but he reminded himself that the Exeter was not here alone and that he had a responsibility to the rest of the fleet as well as to his own crew. It seemed no matter where he turned, the pressure remained in some form or another.

Of the Rihannsu, a representative did present himself, one enriov Fveirrolh Aehkhifv tr'Sahen. Of the remaining Rihannsu military brass, only Donatra was his superior outright, the rest having perished above their homeworld, or ran like the dogs they are. The admiral sat at his place quietly, humbled by the loss of his home, yet still he was defiantly confident that in the end they would win and drive the Hydrans back to the methane swamps that had spawned the beasts.

Na'sav nodded at his assembled comrades, thinking aloud to anyone who would listen... more to gauge what their input would be. "I believe we have to hit them again. As soon as possible. If we send a small enough task force, and they take the right course, we could jump the Hydran fleet while they're still repairing and rearming. If their attentions are elsewhere, we should have a chance to inflict enough damage that they're forced to regroup, and take the initiative from them. We could get out as quickly... it would buy us some time."

"We're going back," M'Kantu said with quiet determination. "How we do it is one of the reasons we're all here right now - that, and dealing with casualty reports, personnel shifting, and resupply/repairs."

"The Sao Paolo is better off than most - two fused aft torpedo launchers and...eleven casualties" T'Riele reported calmly, reviewing the fleet data on her PADD. "Our problem is primarily ordnance.

Engaging target Delta Three on the Galaxy's port has put us critically short on torpedoes, both photon and quantum. For a small craft like the Defiant class, the lack of ammunition significantly reduces her effectiveness. Our attack was efficient against the medium to large Hydran craft, but we could not outmaneuver their fighter wings - their Gatling phasers were very effective... as we can all attest to."

It felt strange to Elessidil to be back aboard the Galaxy but in such a very different role and under such a very different set of circumstances. After catching what appeared to be a subtle nod of encouragement from M'Kantu, Brian cleared his throat, then spoke. "The Exeter took heavy damage in the battle, especially the bridge which is likely to remain unusable until we can get to drydock. We lost life support on several decks, took significant hull damage, and our primary power relays are all inoperable. We're making due with secondaries, but the ship won't be ready for another fight until the primary relays are repaired or replaced." He paused briefly, still feeling the weight of Captain Vogler's death. "As most of you are aware, Captain Vogler and First Officer Marc Reardon were both killed, as were several of our department heads; all told, we've lost about a third of the crew, which was understaffed and relatively inexperienced to begin with." Brian looked around the room to several of the others assembled. "Thanks to some assistance from several of the other ships in the fleet, I have some officers in place to help guide and assist the crew in their effort to return the Exeter to battle-ready condition."

Captain Reynolds offered her report then, such as it was. "The Concorde, obviously, was destroyed. We have less than a hundred survivors from the ship's crew itself, mostly aboard Miranda, Typhon, and the Mukaikubo." she offered. "Approximately six of our twelve squadrons made it back with the fleet - we don't know how many had to go to ground on Romulus itself. Two of my squadrons are being put up on the Miranda, the others are aboard the D'Decius," she said, naming one of the Romulan warbirds that had survived. "My entire Battalion of five hundred marines is unaccounted for, along with the Miranda's."

"The Hood's crew made out a little better." 'Commander Summers supplied. "We've got almost four hundred crewmen accounted for, spread across the fleet, leaving only a hundred and fifty casualties." She said tersely. "Including, of course, Captain DeSoto."

Commander Jaxom read from a PADD he pulled from his back pocket before being seated, "We have one hundred two dead, almost four hundred wounded but our CMO tells most of them will be able to return to duty in a day or so. Sixty-seven need extended medical attention. The ship is stable at the moment but we have eight hull breaches, two that are not sealed yet. One of the phaser cannons has been destroyed, we're out of quantum torpedoes, phasers are sixty percent operable, and the shields are currently at forty-seven percent and climbing according to our chief engineer." He looked up at the rest of the group before going on, "On one section of the upper saucer the ablative armor can't go down. When the starbeast struck the ship the dent was so deep we'll need to repair the ship's spaceframe next time we put into port. If it weren't for the ablative armor there'd probably be no saucer section left on the Miranda."

"As for ourfighters, we lost about about a dozen, either to confirmed losses or MIAs." the Acting Captain of the Miranda continued. "So we're down a squadron. All of our Marines, and about sixty-seven other personell were on the surface when we retreated, as well."

Albrecht then brought in his report, "Twenty two dead, eighty injured. Our shield systems are holding together with conductive bonding plaster and we have torpedo tubes one and two out of action.

Other than a few breaches, we estimate that it will take three days to get us back in fighting form. I have yet to hear about the fighting forces from my ship and their strength on the Romulan surface, but considering that none of the landing craft returned, that leaves me less than optimistic. However, I have thirty percent of my security regiment ready for any boarding actions."

Commander Khoma coughed, trying to catch his breath. Those at the table gave him a moment; they knew that of those that had survived, Icarus had gotten the worst of it, having been in the thick of it, as usual. It was often whispered in the fleet that anyone on that ship had to be truly insane to serve aboard her, and it was probably true; Captain Holmes only took volunteers for his crew.

Most of the assembled COs steeled themselves for what they knew would be painful news to hear. Finally, Ares managed to gather enough air to speak. "Forty percent of Icarus' crew is dead, another fifty-two percent wounded. About half the wounded are reporting for duty, but we really only have forty-two people reporting completely fit for duty. Counting the marines and intel people we left behind, and the heavy losses our fighters sustained, we only have one-hundred seventy-four personnel crewing a ship of seven-hundred."

His eyes grew grave, and he looked down, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

"Of our twenty-two seniormost officers, only one is fully fit for duty. Seven more are reporting as injured-but-fit, including myself.

Six are in sickbay, including Captain Holmes, who is still unconscious, and eight more are dead..."

He erupted in another coughing fit, grabbing the PADD in front of him as he did so. He caught his breath and continued. "We show a loss of twenty fighters; the other sixteen have returned, all damaged - minor injuries only to most of those pilots. We presume most of the others to be dead. Icarus' warp engines are operating at only twenty-six percent of capacity, and our shields are only back up to twelve percent. The CIWS system is inoperative, due to a loss of functionality in the AA fire-control computer. Five decks still show unsealed breaches, and the fire-suppression systems have failed; we're still fighting four blazes near the engineering section. Most of the fighter launch tubes are out of commission, but the bay is still fine, and we can perform manual launch-and-recovery operations."

Na'sav cleared his throat. "Like stated before, we have 11 casualties in need of immediate medical assistance. Other than that, Valiant's shields are at a third normal capacity, her phasers are at 75%. Our Ablative armor and hull are 'mostly' in tact, though our ventral section has displayed evidence of micro-fractures. We lost deck 4 entirely to radiation at one point, but decontamination protocols are in place, and we've since regained the critical aspects of the deck.

Most of our other systems are functioning, those that aren't have backups, and damage control and repair teams are making steady progress." He had to admit, as many kids as he went into battle with, they came out all right. Granted, they had all become veterans that day, but they performed their duty admirably. The Hydrans would not be so lucky next time. "We have 40 Quantum torpedoes left. Give me two hours and the Valiant should be battle-ready again."

Commander Sydney waited till last to speak his part. "As mentioned previously, Typhon took 11 direct strikes from hellbore cannon.

Statistically speaking my presence here, as well as my captain's good health, is a miracle unless one factors in the fact that most of those direct hits were here and there and not en masse. Perhaps the fates were being kind to my little titan today, but I won't subscribe it to wholesale luck; she's got a great crew. As far as damages and casualties, I believe we got off the lightest in the fleet. Of our casualties, only 10 have been fatal; a dozen personnel are confined to sickbay presently, and any others were minor injuries - broken bones, lacerations, light burns, and so forth. Shields are depleted but holding, torpedo stores are down to 20 photons and 2 quantum casings, and at least 4 of our phaser hardpoints have been destroyed outright and require complete replacing of the system down to the EPS networks.

"However, all news is not so dark or dire. Concorde and Hood deployed a large number of escape pods just prior to destruction, and as the nearest carrier we took the responsibility of recovering as many of those pods as we could." He tapped on the PADD before him, transferring a manifest to the rest of the captains. "This is a list of all of the personnel recovered and are either in my sickbay, or in temporary housing. The majority of Typhon's fighter compliment didn't make it back but my bay is still full. I'm carrying a number of fighters from across the fleet, many of them Rihannsu, enriov," he said, looking to tr'Sahen.

"Right now, Typhon is short on the following in order of precedence:

Medical personnel - all of the escape pod occupants had suffered some form of damage from bumps and bruises on up to concussions and a pair of fatalities; counselors for obvious reasons; fighters: of 36 only

8 made it back home; and lastly torpedoes." He set his PADD down and sighed. "Of the fighters we recovered, those that have lost their parent starship I'd like to take on as my own. It'll help with the resupply and organization, and it'll provide the displaced pilots with a home and stability that they need right now in order to get back into proper flying shape. The crew of the Hood still has 'Commander Summers to speak for them, and Captain Reynolds for those of the Concorde so the distribution of those personnel is out of my hands: I just need to know where they are going because miraculously, our transporters are in perfect shape. Blasted thing's usually the first system to go out."

At the conclusion of the Typhon CO's report, the conference bay doors opened as if on queue, admitting the overly large Betelgeusean CO of the Olympic, disheveled, but in a crisp uniform that had been obviously changed on the way. Blood streaks spat along the woman's neckline, amidst smears that contrasted with the clean uniform.

"My apologies for the late arrival," She didn't stop to assimilate the new faces around the table; she was used to change in leadership after her lengthy tour at the front lines of the Dominion War. She located an empty slot at the table, and set her PADDS down at the forefront, but did not sit down. "We arrived shortly after the onset of hostilities and have been operating at maximum capacity ever since."

"No apologies necessary," M'Kantu assured her. "How did the Olympic fare damage-wise?"

"The Olympic suffered minor structural damage being at the rear of the supply lines, but still took damage from high velocity debris that took us by surprise. We only lost a pair of evac shuttles on the field when the Hood and Concorde transport relays went offline for reasons we're all aware of." A pall dropped over those present, but Wrendos continued on unabated. She had no time to doddle. "We've taken on a steady influx of casualties, but nowhere near our eight thousand evac load we're rated for. We've lots of room. I'm afraid though, that we're the only mobile medical facility that will be coming to aid, though. There was notenough advance notice to inform the rest of the fleet that the Tranquility and Biko were recalled." If it were kosher to spit in disgust at Starfleet bureaucracy, she would.

Her tone and emphasis certainly betrayed her feelings on it.

If the Fleet ever got back to the Romulan homeworld, her ship would not nearly be enough to make a difference. Unless, of course, the Hydrans torched the planet - if the Fleet even managed to break through the lines *and* tame the Starbeast.

Daren nodded. "We've got casualties all across the fleet that we'll need to transfer as soon as possible - everyone here will get with you after the meeting to arrange that."

"Captain," 'Commander Summers spoke up. "Is there any word from Starfleet on reinforcements?"

Daren shook his head. "Nothing confirmed yet, though Admiral Murdock says he'll get them for us. And if I know one thing about Victor Murdock - he lives up to his promises, come hell or high water."

"Good." Summers replied firmly, a grim cast settling on her youthful features. "Because we'll need it when we go back to kick the Hydrans back to their own territory."

"Amen to that." Daren replied. "Allright. We've got a lot of work to do, people, so let's get down to it. Dismissed."

"Regrouping"

2nd Lt Branwen Londen,
XO Furies & Staff psychologist
Galaxy Furies

PFC Norma Jean Riley (NPC)
Maintenance Technician
Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

****

Underground City

Ki Baratan

ch'Rihan

****

Norma wandered the darkened cavern, looking for anyone she knew. There were so many people crowded down here, Romulan, Terran, Vulcan, and many many more species that she could see. All trapped by the fact that the Hydrans now controlled the city above. It was hot and sticky much like the Aid station had been. No! It was worse. There were more people, a lot more. And yet through it all, she had yet to see anyone that looked familiar.

Shaking her head at the thought that the entire 188th might be dead, she turned towards the makeshift medical facility. There wasn't much she could do, but she might find something to do to combat the mind numbingly boring feeling she was experiencing.

The screams of the patients in pain could be heard as she pulled back the plastic sheeting the served as the sound proof doorway. Stepping through, she pulled it across the small path to allow those outside to feel the quiet of the cavern again.

There were close to two dozen people, that she could currently see, lying on small cots while countless others sat on every available spare space waiting to be treated. Several doctors were running around, visiting patient after patient. There were a couple of people walking around talking to the wounded, no doubt reassuring them. One in particular caught Norma's eye.

London. It sure looked like London.

Walking over, she saw the woman look up. Throwing her arms wide, she wrapped them round the el-tee as she rose from the patient she was attending to.

"You know, you're the first person I've seen in over two days from the 188th." she sobbed.

Branwen gently held her in her arms, and let her cry, marine or not. "It's okay, I am here now and you are safe." The lieutenant whispered.

"It's not that I felt unsafe ma'am," she replied, "it's just that I thought I'd never see any of you guys again." She wiped the tears away. "Just didn't want to be the only one left."

"We are together now." Branwen said. "How did you lose most of your squad, Norma Jean?" She was curious.

Norma looked up at the el-tee. "Well, after Boomer was killed and Lieutenant Jonas was injured badly by two Ferengi, we held off the rioting Romulans until the Hydrans got here. The Platoon scattered into units doing what they could to stop the Hydrans and help the civilians. I was in a mixed up unit with a Corporal from the Hood and a Private from one of the other ships."

She shivered as the thought of what happened bubbled to the surface. "We got hit in an ambush and I was the only one to get out."

"Gods I didn't know about Boomer, I am so sorry. And Jonas? He is not here at the hospital is he?" She asked. "And you are you alright." She looked the woman up and down.

"I'm fine ma'am. Had a bad spell, but I feel much better. And no, Jonas isn't at the hospital. It happened before the Hydrans arrived, so they transported him up to the fleet."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed deeply, releasing the tension that had built up over her time on the planet. "What about you ma'am?"

"I am fine. Stuck with the hospital from the beginning trying to keep things organized here." She wanted more action but was not going to tell the private.

Norma nodded. It didn't take a counsellor to read between the lines. But since she hadn't said it directly, Norma decided not to comment on it. "I heard a rumor that the Fleet was destroyed, that the Galaxy is no more.

It's just a rumor and nothing more, right ma'am?"

"Absolutely. They are up there and working hard on getting us back, Norma Jean. You can count on it." Bran said with convinction. "Right, can you stay with me and help me out around the hospital?"

"Yes ma'am. I can do that."

"Good."Bran said, happy to have the private with her.

"A Significant Waste of Space"

Lt. Rico Gear

Somewhere on Miranda

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

"hyper.. what.."

"pay attention, the hyper spanner is over there.."

Rico fondled around the floor and handed an engineer some gadget.

"Whats wrong with you" the technie barked, not entirely impressed with the help. But what could he expect, Rico wasnt a brain surgeon infact in the last few moments he wondered if the human had a brain at all.

"Huh..sorry...".. Rico handed the balding Bajoran another implement through a small hole in the wall.

"Thats a Padd you dimwit."

Pussker, the engineer rolled out from under the vent. He stared angrily at Lieutenant Rico Gear, the newest security officer who was attempting to stay busy during the chaos on Miranda. He traced the mans eyes.. strangely enough to a woman, an MD to be exact as she examined the skull of a shaken ops officer. The corridor was littered with debris and wounded bodies, a vent had exploded just moments earlier and an ops team took the force of it.

There was blood on the walls and a lot of wailing.. A scene not unreminsent from the books on Hannibles war Rico was reading, less the elephants.

The claxons were giving Rico a headache as was this Bajoran with that dastardly incurable short-man syndrome. He stood and walked off, leaving the techie in foul humor.

"Thanks for the help.." the engineer snapped, Ricos gaze didnt shift. The lady moved on, her curves flowing elegantly around the next corner, he pursued but lost her amidst the panic. 'Damn.. ' he thought as he peered around a corner. 'Havnt seen an ass like that since the full moon party on Ko Phangan..'

His thought though almost complete was rudely concluded by a jolt of the ship. He almost lost his balance but was saved by another engineer who happened to hit the deck immediately after impact with Ricos elbow.The man was out cold. Rico had hit him square in the Jaw.

The security man scratched his head. The dude was breathing and luckily had just the one pip. 'Stay busy they told me, just help out where you can..' He leaned down and took the mans pulse, yes.. he was alive. He threw the man over his shoulder and with quite an amount of puffing he got him to the sick bay which was only a few metres down the hall.

There wasnt a foot to swing a cat but he carried him inside. He looked for a place to set the man down as the piece of lard was giving his back a seizure. 'What do they feed you cows downstairs..' he thought as he plopped the man down on a gurney. A nurse came over quickly. "Where'd you find him Lieutenant, what happened."

He thouught about being honest, but not for long.. "Just around the corner there, was just laying there in a heap. So many casualties.. this war is such a tragedy.."

The nurse didnt seem too interested in the reply as she set about examining the wound. She stuck a hyposray in his neck and the man started to come around... "I'll leave you to it.." Rico said as he quickly shifted into reverse. It was best he left now before his fat friend recognised him. But before making his quick departure he had a quick glance for that doctor he had seen earlier, the place was too busy so he gave up.

Outside in the corridor Lieutenant Rico Gear went through a number of emotions.. guilt was the first, then he laughed a little, then remorse for laughing .. followed with a snigger. Looking left and right he was decidedly unsure of what to do next.. confusion I think they call it.. then out of the blue, a bit of focus..

A comm went through to him from the security department, "Lieutenant gear report to Security HQ, we have an assignment for you." The mans voice on the other end was husky, like a smoker but he was probably Cardassian or something equally as ugly.

'Ah yes' Rico thought walking to the nearest turbolift. 'Theres a point to this job afterall..'

off: takes place before 'Parental Advice"

"Harbinger, Part II"

By

Vice-Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

Commander Arel Smith,
Chief Security Officer,
USS Miranda

Colonel James Mitchell,
CAG,
USS Miranda and Planetary Defense

***

Hall of State

Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

***

Arel frowned down at the ever-so-slowly spread of green blood and then back at Curran. "We have to get these people out of here now, Legate."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a wonderful talent at stating the obvious?" He had no time to dwell on T'Riasau's fate. Clamoring to his feet and quickly surveying the servos on his legs for dust and debris, the Kelvan silently wished he could escape back into his natural form and out of the chains - the leg braces - that bore him down.

"I don't care if I have to threaten to prod them to the ship with my mek'leth." The security officer growled as she stalked after him. "Or worse."

He shook his head in consternation, shaking off dust into his eyes, which he hastily wiped away and feeling the burn etch into his forehead.

"You'd best keep your Klingon weapons sheathed, 'Commander, unless you'd prefer to be accused of cavorting with the enemy. The Klingons are not favored here."

She bit back a comment on them having to deal with it and concentrated on navigating around the broken bits of hallway in her path.

He stumbled on his feet and grasped a crumbling column as another shockwave slung through the Hall. One glance at the blood pool set his resolve and elected a path, even if he had no clue where he was going. The voices they'd heard earlier had returned in force, but the acoustics of the passageways weren't cooperative in showing them which path was the right one. The three choices before them gave no signature as to their designation.

Arel raised an eyebrow at the Legate.

"I would advocate splitting up. One of us needs to succeed."

"Agreed." The security officer replied. "I'll go that way. Do you need a weapon?"

"I doubt any weapon will defend well against a photon bomb. The Hydrans don't seem all that interested in taking the Senate alive if the bombardment outside has any meaning." Another rumble shook the building and cracks appeared in the ceiling. "I have an ihl-sen that will have to do." His hand went to the hilt protruding from a worn and chipped belt that encircled his waist. The tip had lost its gleam as it rested against an upper brace on his left leg.

"Good luck, Legate." Arel said. "If you have to, attack the Hydran's legs.

It takes them a few minutes to regain their balance if one is taken out."

The Kelvan didn't reply, urgency to reach the Senate taking his attention.

He moved towards the center passage until another shockwave sent the crack in the ceiling ever-wider into the corridor he was going to take. The moment he hesitated and looked up, the entire mosaic and gothic design that soared skyward broke away and sent a ripple effect into the central passage.

Entire blocks began to fall, blocking the passage ahead. An enormous crack resonated above them that signaled only one thing. The Kelvan didn't even chance looking in the direction of the Security Chief. There was no time to. He moved as quickly as he could into the left-most corridor, cursing as he felt encumbered by the servos. He fell.

When the dust had settled some seconds later, Curran felt a cool breeze on his cheek and was shaken to his senses with the sudden lack of dampened acoustics and salty air.

Coughing, he pushed himself to his knees for the second time in the last several minutes, shaking off small bits of debris and coughing up dust.

When he opened his eyes, he was disoriented at seeing a sliver of silver light pierce the darkness and into the corridor he had elected to choose.

As he pondered the scene, an intensely bright light flared up all around him, blinding his senses as he brought his arms up to block the light.

He then felt the chill on his back, which in turn caused him to turn to his side to see behind him.

The entire upper half and partial side of the building was now exposed to the outside, rain mingling with fire fell from the heavens, the echo of artillery flak and percussion of photonics as they landed reaching his ears.

The waters began pooling on the broken surface of the Senate Hall floors, rolling towards him in a mixture of green and red as they picked up the blood of those that had fallen in the building and perhaps symbolically the air down onto him. The cloud cover had disappeared, the climate stations likely the first things destroyed in the invasion. Hundreds of small miniature moving stars dotted the night sky, lit up by the very moon that had shone down his passage. Even larger ships descended from the heavens on chariots of green flame, some winking out in massive explosions, but most reaching the surface with little molesting.

Kylar climbed to his feet, momentarily stunned at seeing the pride of ch'Rihan broken and dying as he peered out below, unhindered by the idea that the Senate Hall was still a target. If he was immolated in a spout of green flame, then so be it. He hadn't seen or been privy to a tactical assault in his lifetime; Havras he'd been a prisoner of war. On Junction, he'd been taken to a retreat of one of the Jem`Hadar factions, but away from battle. So this was the first time his naked eyes took in war first-hand.

He felt the calling. Subconsciously, his mind picked out stations of defense, scenarios, advantages and disadvantages of the Hydrans and Starfleet/Rihannsu coalition. His passing knowledge of defender entrenchments cataloging themselves in his mind and breaking down into various strategies to employ against the rising tide of invaders. He shook on the broken ledge; unknown if it were the chill of the rain or percussions out in the city. Or adrenaline pumping through him.

He felt like a regal command standing stop the hill and overseeing the skirmishes of his armies. If only he had optical enhancers. Another flare of orange light lit up the night sky from landing nearby, shaking the building foundation. He blinked away the bright light, but caught scenes of marching armies on the plains, a swarm of green against the dark soil.

Troop transports had landed just outside city limits, depositing hundreds of thousands of soldiers in wave after wave. It wouldn't be long before they entered the city. Not all were coming this way, but it was enough. Even when the ground force defenders launched their artillery at the horde, they didn't stop coming. Curran picked out elevated points in the city still covered by the passive network, mentally assigning snipers and mortar infantrymen along the fringe. They would be sacrificed to the greater good, but if they were able to eliminate transports....

He wrenched his mind back to the present, shaking as the rain rolled off in rivulets from his matted hair. No. He had other errands of import.

Romulus was lost, and all knew it. It was only a matter of honor to stand and fight. His task was to make sure the planetary government was not killed or captured. The psychological effect of maintaining a living leadership - no matter how corrupt they were - was infinitely better than a world that lost those leaders, and with it, their morale and motivation.

Tearing himself away from the scene, he reminded himself that the oncoming attack force would have no mercy if they captured the leadership and publicly executed them. Curran knew he had to die in order to regain his honor, but not as a sacrifice or without opportunity. He was not a prideful being, but he desired death in a manner befitting his species. Not as a pawn in a meaningless struggle.

Moving as fast as the servos that kept his legs moving would allow him, he moved down the only corridor he could, preying he would find the Senate before it was too late.

*****

Above Ra'tleihfi (Ki Baratan)

"Keep us in the air for a few minutes longer, Reisu!" The flak and exploding ordnance around them was making the order quite difficult to follow. Having been in the air for less than an hour, James Mitchell and his Romulan/Starfleet AWACS crew had flown into the middle - for all he knew, the whole planet was the middle - of a major flak field.

They'd spotted the troop transports descending to the planet through the atmosphere, and seeing no other sensor sentries on their scanners in the sea of splashes that marked down craft, he'd ordered the pilot to navigate into the field in order for the aerospace defenders and ground support to engage the targets. They'd miscalculated the descent vector of the craft and found themselves amidst the artillery that was meant for the invasion force.

The AWACS craft had taken heavy damage, but their maneuverability had not been compromised. Shields were at full charge at the cost of life support and weapons, but still, it would not be enough. They'd called for support, but with armed conflict all over the planet, it was not forthcoming.

Chatter crossed themselves over the airwaves, the banter of voices at times cut off by a wash of static and silence when a communications array had gone offline. Screams echoed over voices, feedback wailed into earpieces.

Long-range sensors and access cameras, when time was available to take a gander at them, showed heavy fighting in orbit. The coalition was taking a heavy beating, but thankfully the Starbeast wasn't in the picture yet.

James didn't have time or care to wonder why, either. He was more concerned with keeping his own ass alive so his planetary air forces could keep up their end of the bargain. He had no idea how many AWACS were still in service. Shit had hit the fan, and they were woefully under-prepared for it.

Behind him, the crew toiled hard on their assignments, filling seats in mobile phaser arrays that operated on their own separate power sources. But they were akin to throwing a pebble at an elephant. Hardly enough. The ship shook, metal groaned. Someone yelled behind him.

He was too busy co-piloting the AWACS to notice the massive scout transport that descended above him until the moon was blocked and darkness fell over them thicker than night. Peering out the fore-window and curling his neck to see above the shuttle, it had caught them in its descent wake, and pushed them down using the air pockets between the two.

"Colonel, I've lost attitude control, compensating..." The Romulan pilot was amazingly serene at the notion that their craft was about to be squashed like a bug unless they could get out from underneath. If that Rihannsu dude was really a Vulcan....

Then an artillery shell exploded somewhere near them.

Flames billowed out from an eruption in the transport base, washing over the AWACS and shorting out systems all over the ship in its wake. The consoles went dark and the shuttle was sent into a spin underneath the behemoth above them.

"Aw, frack," Was all James could say as his now dead stick was released from his hands and he gripped anything that was nailed down. The crew in the back kept firing though. Not one person remaining on the shuttle stopped themselves from performing their duty right to the end.

"Sparks" Part One

Lt Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

(Set between 'Sucked Out' Part One and Two)

***USS Galaxy Deck 9***

Michael looked at Dhani, standing there crying softly. He never saw her this way before. This was the first time she really did seem to be scared and near panic. Truth be told, he was close to feeling that too but he forced himself with all his strength to not let it show. He pulled Dhani close to him and let her head rest on his shoulder. All around the battle raged on, but at this moment holding her close to him seemed to be more important than anything.

"Don't give up, Dhani. There's still hope, even now."

Dhani nodded as she sobbed into his shoulder, the shoulder pad of his uniform taking the brunt of her tears. "I have never been this scared." she admitted, "I'm more afraid for you. If you died Michael, I just don't know what I would do." she pulled him closer, wishing that she hadn't said that, but also glad the she finally let him know how much she did care for him.

It felt that time kept spinning on, and she never took stock and told the people that she cared about how she really felt. It then occurred to her that she normally didn't have anyone to confess her feelings too cause she had kept to herself since Chang died. And back then she was more in control of turning off her emotions… fact was back then she didn't know how to turn them on! That was the primary reason Chang left her. Ironic really!

It didn't quite get through to Michael what Dhani was actually saying to him. His mind was busy with a dozen things at the same time, or so it seemed. From thinking about their safety and getting out of this mess alive to getting the Power Relays fixed. However, he felt Dhani pulling him closer and in turn so did he. After a moment he pulled away as gently as he could.

"Dhani, we don't have much time left. Just sit down for a moment so I can have a look at your injuries. You can't go on like this."

Dhanishta smiled softly, drying her eyes on the back of her hand. Nodding gently she actually did as she was told for once. Briefly scanning the hall she stepped back and leaned against the wall, there really wasn't anywhere to sit down in the corridor, except, she supposed, the floor… but then she really wouldn't be able to get up!

"Here okay?" she asked quietly gesturing to the lack of seating arraignments with as much amusement as she could muster.

"I guess that should have to do." Michael got down to his knees to get a closer look at what he believed was one nasty cut in Dhani's leg. For just a brief moment he looked up. The right corner of his lip curled up and he winked at her. Maybe that was a strange thing to do considering the circumstances but he wanted to reassure Dhani, to give her hope that things would work out in the end.

Michael leaned forward and carefully touched the large open wound on her leg. "You don't do anything small, do you." he said with a slight hint of humor. He didn't wait for Dhani's response, just started to rip long pieces out of his uniform. It was the only thing he had to make a bandage out of.

Dhani smiled at him, yet refused to watch as he patched up her leg. Looking up at the ceiling, rapping her nails against the wall behind her, she wondered just how they were going to get through this alive. Flashes of the last attack she had endured burned in her mind.

"Just remember when you are done with me, I get to patch you up!" she said in a slightly threatening way. She winced slightly as a spark of pain shot through her leg, but still she refused to look down. Last time she had a large leg wound she had passed out the moment she looked at it. She had been totally fine all the way up to the point where she took off her boot and saw the blood, then she had fainted…yeah, what a hero, she scoffed at herself.

"We need to get the power up and running in the deck above. The hull breach is on deck 11. Last time I checked it was holding but it was severely unstable. I'm not sure if it's the power grid knocked out or if there is something more serious." she muttered as he wrapped strips of his uniform around her leg.

Michael finished with applying the makeshift bandage to Dhani's leg. He checked to make sure he'd done it right. "Hull breach? That bad, huh? I passed Deck 10 on the way down here. It was a chaos there. One corridor I passed was completely blocked. It looked like the whole passageway had collapsed in on itself." He commented and stood up. "There, that should hold a while."

Dhani nodded, only now taking a look at his handy work. "Thanks." Arching an eyebrow she gave him a sly smile, "My turn now!" she said nodding towards his arm.

"That's not necessary. I can still move around and do most things. It's just a bit more difficult with one arm." Michael said, already about to turn around. "Maybe later when we have more time, okay?"

Dhani placed her hand firmly against his chest. She felt a rise of anger surge from within at his neglect to himself, "No!" she said, "Not later. Now!"

Michael sighed. "Look Dhani, we're running out of time. Your wounds had to be treated or else you would've passed out from blood loss. My arm... Well, that's different."

Dhani eyeballed him, "It's not different at all." she said, her voice low, "I told you that I wanted you off this ship when the fighting started. This," she poked his arm and almost smiled at the pain it caused him, "is exactly why. Now you will sit… stand, here while I take care of it. Got it!?"

He hadn't expected such a fierce reaction. Michael wondered why she behaved like this. Then assumed it all came because of this life threatening situation they were in. "Hey, hey..! It's okay... You convinced me, alright?"

Eyeing him suspiciously for a moment she nodded and then slowly pealed back the tear in his uniform to see just what she was dealing with. From her completely un-knowledgeable opinion he had probably broken or fractured his arm. Where exactly, she had no idea! It didn't appear that his shoulder was dislocated, she was sure that if it was, he would be in a lot more pain. For the first time ever she wished Kimberly was with her, and that both she and Michael could spend a week in sick bay. She balked, her wishing to be in sick bay - the situation was dire indeed.

The amount of dried blood covering Michaels arm made it difficult to see exactly where he had been injured - so she would wrap the whole thing up!

"Can you move your arm?" she questioned beginning to remove his entire sleeve as gently as she could.

Michael tried to move his arm though he already knew that he couldn't. His try had to be shared among 'wishful thinking' he guessed. His face contorted when the pain flamed through his arm. "No...I can't. Shit, it hurts like hell!"

Dhani felt like crying when she saw the pain he was in. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face straight and emotion free, "Where about's does it hurt the most?"

"Just below my shoulder. Here." Michael used his left hand to let Dhani see where it did hurt him the most.

Dhani nodded, it was more serious than she had first thought, dislocation was now back in the 'possible' side of the book! She sighed as his sleeve fell to the floor. There wasn't much she could do except wrap up the wound and hopefully find a make shift sling from somewhere, though exactly where she didn't know.

Then it hit! "Now don't go getting all hot and bothered on me okay?" she said taking off her singed, torn, dirt and blood covered duty jacket.

"Movers and Shakers" pt I

President Nan Bacco - Pat/Ian
Flt Admiral Victor Murdock, C-in-C, Starfleet - Pat
Councilor James Pennington, Earth - Hawk - Pat
Councilor T'Latrek, Vulcan - Neutral, Laurel
Councilor Kellerasana zh'Faila, Andor - Hawk, Juan
Ambassador Diana Thrace, Alpha Centauri - Neutral, Sabe
Councilor Gravlok, Tellar - Hawk, Randy
Councilor Krim Aldos, Bajor - Neutral - Pat
Councilor Iyskranara'Lainu, Lased- Dove-leaning, Kate
Councilor Eleana, Delta IV - Dove, Dave
Councilor Mauricio Carneiro, Saturnian Confederation - Neutral, Chad
Councilor Dynkorra M'Relle, Cait - Dove, Mek
Councilor Ra'ch B'ullhy, Damiano, Hawk - Ian
Councilor Gorus Gelaminger, Gnala - Hawk, Dave
Councilor Tomorok, Rigel Colonies, Dove - Robert H

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

The Ra-Ghatoreii Room

Top Floor, Palais de la Concorde

Paris, Earth, UFP

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

Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock was engrossed in his PADD with the report from the "Battle of Romulus" detailing the slaughter that had occurred. He felt a pang for the loss of Chris Summers, Bob DeSoto, and Marg Vogler, all people he'd known well.

So engrossed was he, he started slightly when President Bacco called this sealed session of the Security Council to order. A grim expression was on her face, though she had yet to share the news she and Murdock were privy to. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Security Council," she began. "Let me be clear. We will not be leaving this room until we have come to a judgment on the Romulan Question. If any of you have a problem with that, I suggest you get over it. Now."

"My only problem," stated a slender Centauran woman with silver hair swept into an elegant twist, "is that the so-called 'Romulan Question'

is so poorly defined, Madame President. What 'Question' are we really debating today? Are we debating whether or not we misjudged the application of our resources to aid the Romulan Empire, or are we debating whether or not we let a long standing enemy die at the hands of another long standing enemy?"

She smoothed a hand over her jacket. Diana Thrace was not at all comfortable with the recent turns of events. Councilor Chaoying had been recalled to Alpha Centauri very unexpectedly. Someone hadn't liked her politics at all. That Diana's politics fit the political needs of the moment better, concerned her. Her hasty appointment to the Security Council to replace Chaoying smacked of deception somewhere, even if she couldn't place her finger exactly on the deceiver. She didn't like being played as someone's puppet and she wasn't about to let this turn into a political farce. No, she was going to have all the answers before she let things get out of hand.

"Or are we really debating the Federation Question? Just who are we, as the Federation, and what should our military policy be in the future? Can we continue as we have in the past, or does our previous policy no longer fit with who we are as a community of allied worlds?"

"Of course this is really about the 'Federation Question,'" Tomorok, the Rigellian councilor, interjected. "Everything is about the 'Federation Question.'"

"Madame President, it's the belief of many of my colleagues and superiors On Delta IV that our presence in Rihannsu space was both unnecessary and unwarranted - a significant diversion from the Federation charter." The clear voice was from Delta IV's representative, a small diminutive woman in the winter of her life. "I think that the performance of the fleet, while admirable given the odds they faced, was misapplied. Perhaps the Rihannsu are simply reaping what they have sowed over the centuries. Why were our people really there: out of a genuine concern for the Rihannsu, or fear of what power may develop from the vacuum of their fall? What dialogue have we had with the Hydrans? With the T'Kith Kin or the Breen?"

"Eleana," Iyskranara'Lainu, the Councilor from Lased spoke, her musical voice soft and low, barely carrying through the room. She spoke carefully, her words hesitant as she struggled with the translations. The Lasari language existed entirely of extended metaphor and allusions, one so complex the UT algorithms hadn't yet deciphered it. It took decades for the Lasari to learn Federation

Standard: it was an entirely different way of thinking, and no non-Lasari had managed to master their language. "Though we are of a pacifist's perspective, even we must admit it is a difficulty to dialogue together with anyone unwilling to listen or speak toward what you tell. The Hydrans and the T'Kith Kin and the Breen have made it many times crystal through the many years -- decades -- that they have no intention of dialoguing. Regardless."

She looked back toward the President. "War should always be an absolute last resort. Never should we go seeking for it, and given the uncertain status of our political relationship with the Romulans, I find I must echo Councilor Thrace. What is the Romulan Question?"

The long, ornamental silver earrings that reached down the length of her long neck to her shoulders, sang softly as she moved her head.

'Lainu was a beautiful woman, tall and slender with thick dark hair wrapped in the purples and silvers of her status. Like most Lasari, she seemed to personify grace and poise. Her silver-colored eyes surveyed the people at the table while her soft hands lay over one another, nearly covered by the beautiful purple robes she wore.

"We must know and understand this question. We have been speaking of it since the USS Galaxy first fell into Romulus orbit. But we have no idea what discuss. We speak philosophies. We debate in circles. We accomplish nothing. I see it as the responsibility of a civilized people to protect those that can longer defend themselves. But first it must be know if our resources allow it. And I don't mean simply our people, our ships, our blood and time, I mean, also, our political capital. In not a tremendous time, our people have experienced much.

Should we have them into another war we may not have to fight? We should draw swords only when--"

Down the table, Councilor Gravlok moved to interrupt, but she managed, somehow, to speak over him, though her voice never once raised from the calm, even compassion and conviction that carried her words.

"It is most necessary, when our freedom and liberty and very essence are found threatened. We do not know to be able to determine that.

Our resources are scarce, dismantled and reassembled are still reeling from that, as is our community as a whole -- our people don't trust it. And for a government to be efficient, we must have trust from our people, we must be able to move with information that is trusted by our people. They are who we protect. Not our own interests."

This time, the Tellarite sitting down the table from 'Lainu didn't let anyone speak over him. He leaned forward in his seat, removing his gnarled hands from his prodigious belly and slamming them down on the table. "The Hydrans have already drawn their swords, Councilor! And they'll remain drawn until the blood of all of us, not just the Romulans, stains their blades." He gazed in turn at the other members of the Council as he spoke. "Words will not convince our aggressors to withdraw," he declared. "It's time we stopped running. When you have a junkyard dog snapping at your heels, the best thing to do is to turn around and kick it in the chops!"

From her seat, Dynkorra M'Relle growled softly under her breath. As a Caitian she was sensitive to analogies that had to do with kicking animals, plus the overweight Tellarite's voice grated on her sensitive ears.

Gravlok sat back again, and steepled his fingers across his rotundity as he looked around at the Councilors surrounding him, his glare daring them to speak up. When no one did, he nodded, a sharp, self-satisfied motion that smacked of superiority. "Our people must understand that we are only doing what is necessary to defend the Federation," he growled. "They do not grasp the complexities of what truly goes on out there; they will trust us because they are like newborns, blind and helpless, without us."

There was a loud coughing from the back of the room that began as soon as the Tellerite had finished. Mauricio Carneiro was choking on his coffee, shocked by the outrageous comment. "Um, wow there, Garvy.

That was a bit of a beastly statement," he said, looking down at his coffee to see if it was still worth drinking.

Counselor M'Relle hissed slightly.

Gravlok turned to face the new voice, tilting his head back so his deep-set eyes could stare straight at the man it belonged to. He growled softly, his eyes narrowing, but he allowed the man to continue.

In his early sixties, the Councilman from Titan was still strikingly handsome, his naturally rugged masculinity carefully groomed and pruned to hide his age and heighten his remaining youth. This was also assisted by his extremely casual and carefree personality. He approached the table in a confident stride and stood behind T'Latrek, the Vulcan, casually sipping from his cup. "Ignoring Gravlok's incredibly 'corrupt politician' remark there, you guys are refusing to make a decision and hiding behind all the possible academic repercussions. We don't have that option today. This is a time sensitive issue."

"According to Vicky's people," The Brazilian said, gesturing to Murdock, "The Hydran fleet is moving towards Romulus. We've already sent several ships there, we've put peoples' lives on the line.

They're there. We either decide to pull them out now, or we back them up! We can worry about and try to backtrack on the repercussions later."

Murdock's face drew in a tight line at this. The President hadn't informed the Security Council yet that such a battle had already occurred.

"Unacceptable!" A solid, clear voice cut through the din. Kellerasana zh'Faila of Andor, one of the five longest-serving members of the council - predecessor and successor both to Charivretha zh'Thane - , was standing up now, leaning forward on the table. A fiery orator, she was known for her hard-line stance regarding threats to Federation

- and, of course, by extension, Andorian -sovereignty. "Andor will not in any way support any action that weakens the Federation. If we withdraw our forces now, we open ourselves up to attack not only from the Hydrans, nor merely from the T'Kith'kin and the Breen, but from every two-bit dictator and backspace pirate that sees a viable opportunity in taking advantage of Federation worlds and peoples whom we will have proven that we have no great desire to defend."

"Councilor zh'Faila is right," said Gravlok, standing in support of his Andorian compatriot. "We've already committed ourselves to this course. Pulling out now will only serve to strengthen our enemy's resolve."

"So, we back them up," Mauricio said into his cup as he took another swallow of coffee.

Diana rose again and once again straightened the line of her gray jacket. "I would address a statement made previously," she started.

When she got the nod from the President Bacco, she turned to face the others. Most pointedly, she did not look at the councilor from Betazed. "It has been proposed that perhaps the Rihannsu are simply reaping what they have sowed over the centuries. I find the statement lacks the compassion I would expect from individuals touting membership in a political party that calls itself aligned with peace.

"More importantly, I find it short sighted. Let us put aside, for a moment, that my granddaughter is out there right now and that if I thought only as a grandmother, I would see her come home safely. I cannot allow myself that luxury. I must think of what is best for the Federation and its formally stated goals: Peaceful exploration and an egalitarian community. These goals were put forth by our founders and fought for most strongly by the people of Earth herself." She pointedly looked at Councilor Pennington. "Until we change our charter, that remains our goal."

She paced. The grey of her jacket shimmered as she moved. It was hard to determine. Was it the gray of a gun barrel or the gray of a dove? "Let us, for a change, examine the situation calmly and rationally. What is our overall goal here? If it is peace, then let us consider that relations with the Rihannsu have been improving. It is my understanding that there is a growing movement within the Rihannsu people for reunification with their Vulcan brethren. "

She turned to face the Vulcan delegate. "Councilor T'Latrek, what is Vulcan's stance on this issue? Both officially and popularly, please, since, despite some statements to the contrary," she allowed herself a sidelong glance at Councilor Gravlok, "not everyone comes from a constituent of infants."

Someone snickered.

T'Latrek arched one elegant eyebrow, her fingers steepled before her.

"You ask an illogical question, Councilor. There is no difference between 'popular' and 'official'. Reunification is an ongoing debate.

There is no clear majority at this time as to what the preferred solution is." No emotion crossed her face as she spoke, nor did any inclination as to what her personal preferences were. She continued a moment later, meeting the gazes of the others in the room. "As always, Vulcan's stance has always been one of peace. Allegiances have been made and we would stand by them."

"I would also address the comment of 'the Rihanna getting what's coming to them.' Though this statement is rife with emotionalism, I would disagree. Revenge is illogical. The universe does not work in this manner and it does not behoove us to follow this emotional response. As I stated moments ago, we have an alliance with the Rihannsu and Vulcan would honour that agreement."

"That seems reasonable, Councilor T'Latrek, thank you. We're still left with the question of what we are deciding here," Diana Thrace allowed her eyes to linger a moment too long on Victor Murdock.

"We are here, Councilor Thrace," the President finally clarified, after everyone had offered their opinions on the nature of the issue.

"To specifically address the issue of whether or not to send further reinforcements in defense of the Romulan homeworld. To decide whether the Federation will support a policy that the Romulans are, in fact, getting what's coming to them - or whether we will live up to the agreements we made in the Treaty of Alliance made during the Dominion War, or the Treaties of Romulus and Galavanis."

"Sparks" Part Two

Lt Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

(Set between "Sucked Out" Part One and Two, Directly after "Sparks" Part One)

***USS Galaxy, Deck 9***

Michael nodded, although he didn't really know why she should say such a thing. He kept concentrating on thinking about something else than his pain.

Dropping her jacket to the floor she proceeded to take off her tunic and then her undershirt. Clad in only her trousers and bra, she knelt down and began to rip up her shirt into a haphazard triangle of sorts; basically a sling.

Michael's eyes grew wider by the minute as he saw Dhani undressing herself before him. Thinking about something else other than his pain suddenly wasn't an issue anymore. He wouldn't admit it, but he actually stared at Dhani's upper body for a good few minutes tracing every curve. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized what he did and looked up. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks. She just had to know that he'd looked at her that way.

Dhani couldn't help giggling slightly as Michael shifted his feet with embarrassment at not knowing where to look. It was silly really; they had been roommates for at least six months now! Standing back up she took his arm gently and placed it in the sling and then slowly brought up his arm, inch at a time; so it wouldn't aggravate his shoulder too much, and then stepped in close to tie a knot behind his neck.

She could feel his breath, as he exhaled, across her naked skin. Closing her eyes she savored the sensation as the fine hairs on her neck and chest rose as the warm air flowed over her. She shuddered as tingles raced up her spine, her skin breaking out in goose-pimples. Lingering in that position slightly longer than necessary, she waited for the sensation to pass, although she wished that it never would.

This position they were both in now, while the rest of the universe around them was locked in a furious battle, was confusing to say the least. It was like they both sent out a statement like 'Make love, not war'. To others it might look like that when they saw their embrace. Michael looked down and saw himself looking down at Dhani's neck and could see all the way down her bare back. The rational side of his mind screamed he should just close his eyes or something...the rest of his body felt like it was in heaven...or at least a good step closer to it.

Stepping back she smiled, "Looks good." she nodded her approval, "I could make it as a doctor ya know!" she winked picking up her jacket.

Michael looked down at what Dhani had made for his arm, glad for the opportunity as he could hide his face from her. He knew his face would redden as soon as he would look at her. The sling did the job. It felt good. He could let his arm rest now, which felt 100 percent better. "I don't doubt you could. Not for a minute." He looked up and briefly locked eyes with Dhani. "Thank you. I, uhm, don't know what to say... Just that it really does help. It's...perfect."

Dhani smiled, but her happy expression faded quickly as she looked at him. For a moment it seemed as if the world around them just disappeared, and she was standing there looking at if for the first time. She took a step closer, the blood rising in her ears, her heart thumping against her chest.

The corridor now a haze as her vision tunneled and all she could see was him, all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him. Her eyes drank in every last inch of him; his scent, the way his hair fell across his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the day old stubble that had grazed her cheek when she hugged him, the way he looked at her, that look that she had always seen but never noticed. She felt her chest rising and falling at a phenomenal rate, perspiration broke out across her skin and she began to feel a little dizzy, but she couldn't break away from those deep brown eyes…

Michael failed to explain it to himself, but he knew this was a special moment. He simply felt it. He kept looking intently in Dhani's eyes, which tended to look right through you when she was mad...and radiated warmth to whoever was her friend. Right now those eyes seemed to act like magnets to Michael. He raised his right hand and gently touched her cheek, caressing it. "Dhani..." he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered as his soft hand made contact with her cheek. A rush of heat flowed through the connection and for a moment she was speechless.

"Yeah?" she finally breathed, her head spinning slightly.

Maybe she'd expected more words from him. Michael didn't know. It would be a futile attempt anyway because words failed him. He'd never been that good in expressing his feelings through words. He simply lacked the 'Shakespeare-gene' for that. The emotions he felt were many, but all were related to Dhani, his love for her being the strongest. At the same time he felt fear of losing her in this conflict with the Hydrans. The Galaxy was in bad shape and he wasn't sure if she could stand another barrage of weapons fire.

In the end Michael moved close to Dhani and leaned forward until his lips almost touched hers. If there was ever to be a moment where he would kiss her, this was the time. There was no way of telling if either would come out of this fight alive. A moment passed, but only a moment, before he kissed Dhani.

As his lips connected with hers a triage of thoughts flew through her mind. He was her friend, her *best* friend, the only person on this boat that she would gladly lay down her life for. They had been through so much together and she couldn't ever entertain the thought of loosing him, not again. The void he had left when he went away, leaving her with only a cryptic message as to why, it had left a gaping wound that no one else could possibly have filled. She felt such joy when he had heard her, the fact that he had been there for her when she woke up from the coma, stalled the nurses from placing her body in the morgue. There had been no one else that she could think of that she would have rather seen, not even Chang.

She had hurt for so many years, felt the loss and grief of loosing the man she was supposed to marry every day of her life. She had tried to move forward but there was no one else that understood her, no one that could; no one that she was prepared to let in after all that had happened and all that she thought she had done.

But somehow *he* did. He got through those barriers, been there when she was at her lowest, and even then she had kept him at arms length, too afraid that she would hurt him.

Too afraid that she would lose him.

But his faith in her never wavered. He had never cast judgment on her, even when she had locked herself in her room and refused to see him; even then his love for her had never faded.

His love for her…

How could she have been so blind? All those dinners they had shared before he left, the pain in his voice in the recording, all the time they had spent just enjoying each others company, the fact that he had been there when she woke up, the fact that he and he alone had heard her telepathic communications – how could she have missed the signs? Missed all those looks he had given her, missed every bashful smile!

A war ensued in her mind, as bitter as the one outside. He was her *friend*, she shouldn't do this, not unless she felt the same way… did she feel the same way? Could she feel the same way? Did she deserve to put him though the hell of her past? She wouldn't do it for Jiiles, someone that she liked… why then do it to someone that she loved more than her own life?

Her eyes closed as she pushed against the urge to cry, a weight as heavy as the Galaxy pressed down on her chest.

She lost herself to the emotion of the moment; pushing up on her tip toes her arms encircled him pulling him closer. She kissed him back with all the passion she had, all the emotion, good and bad, flooded through their connection.

She could feel his passion, his hunger for her. It was so gentle yet so raw. His fear for her life outweighed the fear for his own. His need to be with her was so strong, yet somehow controlled; like he anticipated rejection. So contained were his feelings for her, so well hidden under the lines of duty and formalities – that were all a cover for how he really felt.

She could feel everything, she could feel him; not just his physical form as he moved closer to her, wrapping his free arm around her, his hand resting against the small of her back, but him. All his emotions, it was like she was with him, in him, one and the same.

She let her walls drop. She let him in for the first time ever. She let him see all her fears, all her emotions, all her anger, all her pain, all her sadness, all her confusion. She let it out unbridled, uncensored. It was a risk, a gamble of the highest price. But she had to; she had never felt that she could, that she could let anyone in after the lives she believed she had taken. The amount of death she had seen by her own hand, the amount of hate and guilt that she carried towards herself. She felt that she shouldn't be loved; she shouldn't have the opportunity to be happy after the torment she had bestowed on others.

It was as if she stood naked before him, her body trembling in the embrace as their tongues touched, as their minds touched and everything crossed over. There were no walls any more, no barriers. All of her was laid out before them for him to see, to feel.

She had no idea how he would react, the possibility that he would reject her, as he should, for the things she had done, it played heavy on her mind – yet that too was right there for him to see… for there was no part of her that could not at this moment…

To Michael the physical sensations were a trigger that released all his passion he'd held inside for all those years. It was all or nothing. Their telepathic bond was never as strong as it was now. All thoughts and emotions were exchanged using that link. He saw so many images, felt so many feelings coming from Dhani that he almost couldn't take it anymore, let alone understand what she was showing him all in those few seconds. He hoped that he could sort it all out later, if they would survive this war. Dhani was far more used to this sort of communication than him. He was a novice at best.

Finally, after minutes of refusing to break the kiss, Michael just had to stop to take a few deep breaths. He smiled at Dhani with his typical boyish smile but he didn't say a word because he didn't want to break this magical moment. Instead his just looked in her eyes and moved in again giving her another two gentle kisses.

"Sucked out!" Part Two

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 "Sparks" Pt 2)

*** Location: Deck 11, USS Galaxy, Science Lab 7 ***

Standing at the edge of the hull breach, Steven was in awe at the sheer damage that was being wrought against the ship. Though he couldn't stick his head out to take a look - the forcefield was a stickler for keeping everything inside, including his head - he could see that the hull was missing on the deck immediately above and below him, and at it's centre, here on deck 11 it was almost three meters wide, almost as if a giant crab had ripped at the side of some poor creature with one of it's claws. It was frightening to behold.

"Have you ever seen anything so horrifying?" Steven asked.

Keldan stared out into the darkness of space, pulling back startled as a starfighter and its prey flashed by the gaping hole in silence. He looked around the tattered remnants of the science lab, at the twisting metal of the bulkheads and the gaping wound in the side of the Galaxy. Comparing it to some of his more recent experiences planetside, this was pretty tame. Metal and polymers could be salvaged, combined, reforged, remade. Staring out and seeing entire decks eaten away only reminded him that there were probably people in those sections too, when the ship was hit. People can't be salvaged the same way metal and equipment can.

Keldan pushed some wreckage out of the way to make sure he had good footing on what remained of the deck. "Looks like the fleet is taking quite a beating."

"Oh, I was talking about the tear in the hull, but that battle is pretty scary as well."

Keldan nodded silently at the Marine. "Do you know how many others were in this section?"

"Just one Science officer in here with me when the hull breeched. A guy by the name of Strom. He got sucked out." Steven replied. "Don't know about anyone else."

"I've got to get to the Operations substation and help coordinate damage control. It's where I was headed when the ship was attacked."

"I feel sore all over and need to go see the medics, so I guess I'm headed your way a bit. And the sight of that hole gives me the creeps."

*** Corridor, Deck 11***

The repairs to the Power Relays on Deck 9 and 10 had gone quickly. Dhani and he worked well together, not really surprising since both knew their stuff. But even more so because of the telepathic link they had. They hadn't even spoken a single word while fixing the Relays. They only used telepathy to communicate to each other. It was so much faster and more reliable. And not in the least, it was far more enjoyable.

Michael looked in Dhani's direction, who was some 10 meters away from him.

~I'm almost done here. Only a few connections left. How are you doing?~

~This, this is more fried than a 'Red necks' turkey… or is it chicken?~ she asked quirking an eyebrow in his direction, ~Anyway I am done.~ she concluded standing up and brushing down her pants.

~You're done already?~ Michael looked amused. It was obvious why she was chosen as Assistant Chief Engineer. ~I must've become a little rusty when it comes to repairs. Give me a minute and I'll be...-"

Michael suddenly severed the telepathic link. Not on purpose, but on instinct. He'd heard some awfully familiar noises coming from the Emergency Force Field. He turned his head around as fast as he could and saw it turning on and off in rapid succession. He felt the air flow as the vacuum of space pulled it out the ship when the Force Field was off. It was clear to him that the Force Field was destabilizing. The Electro Plasma flow was fading to this section of the ship.

"Oh no." Michael couldn't believe this was happening now. He looked to Dhani, fear in his eyes. "Dhani, get away from here! Now!!!"

But it was too late.

*** Location: Deck 11, USS Galaxy, Science Lab 7 ***

Just as Steven decided that now was a great time to go and see Kimberly again, the computer interrupted, confirming the thought.

"Warning, Power relays on Deck 11 have failed. Secondary relays critical." The strong feminine voice of the computer intoned.

Steven looked at Keldan. "That's not good, is it?"

The furrows in Keldan's brow deepened. "Definitely not."

"That's what I thought. We better get out of here." Steven edged away from the gaping hole in the ship and towards the door.

They were halfway to the door, Steven hobbling as fast as he could, while Keldan, whom Steven thought could have walked a lot faster had he chosen to, keep pace, when the computer made another announcement.

"Emergency Forcefield Destabilizing. Evacuate immediately!"

A split second later, Steven felt himself being sucked back towards the emptiness of space. Oh god, not again, he thought as he wrapped his arm around the strap of his rifle. He prepared for the inevitable by praying that it would be swift and painless, though he knew it most likely wouldn't be. As he hurtled through the near empty Science lab 7, his head collided with the edge of a work bench. The force of the contact knocked him unconscious and sent his body into a spin towards the hole in the ship.

Keldan tried to grab the marine as the sudden explosion of air swept him toward the breach; while he was quick enough to grab onto a collapsed bulkhead support, he wasn't fast enough at snatching the marine or the fabric of his uniform. He watched helplessly as the marine's body slammed into a bench, then went careening out into the void along with more loose debris from the ruined laboratory. It was only a matter of time before something struck him hard enough for him to lose his hold.

Briefly he tried to remember how long he could survive in space before the damage was irreparable. He had too much knowledge about what deep space temperatures and no-pressure environments could wreak on the average humanoid for his own good. But even as the bulkhead support he held shifted, and he dropped into the same hole of blackness that Jonas had disappeared into, he refused to admit that this was the end.

***Corridor Deck 11***

As Dhanishta turned to look over at Michael, his words resonating in the hall, his fear for her burning in her mind; her happy-go-lucky, jokie smile of just a few seconds ago faded, replaced by a horror that matched his.

Everything seemed to slow down as she whipped her head round to look down the corridor at the failing forcefield. Her jaw dropped, the blood drained from her face, her heart thumped in her chest; filling her head with its sound and Michaels voice was lost into the background.

The panel that she was working on fizzled, spewing out sparks in every direction, and then with an almighty 'POP' it blew. Dhanishta's body jerked as shrapnel impaled her stomach. Her hand instantly covered the afflicted area as she stumbled backwards and into the wall.

For a moment all she felt was the rising wind tugging on her clothing as the air flow increased. She swallowed hard, trying to suck in a breath against the force of the wind. Her eyes searched the corridor for Michael, tears already rolling down her cheek.

And then the wind picked up. Her damp hair lashed at her face hampering her vision that was already blurring. Casting an eye down to her stomach she pealed back a crimson finger that plugged the whole in her side. Maybe this was justice for all that she had done.

For one brief moment in her life she had found the one that she didn't even realize she had been looking for; Michael. A half hearted smile crossed her face covering the pain she felt in her heart.

The wind grew stronger every fraction of a second, until it became an ungodly force, in her mind she screamed out to Michael in terror as her body was picked up effortlessly by the unseen hand of the vacuum of space. Tumbling in the air like a leaf she reached out a hand to him, there was nothing else for her to hold on to.

"Ouch"

Lt. Colonel For'kel Arvelion
SFMC, USS Miranda

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

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

The Undercity, Ki Baratan

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

For'kel fell back against the wall of the underground 'city' as it were, a unificationist doctor overseeing the treatment of the various injuries sustained in this latest ambush. It didn't amount to much...

a squad managed to kill about a dozen Hydrans and run before they could be found, only a few relatively superficial wounds were sustained from the cross fire.

At the very least, the Hydrans would be more careful when traveling down that particular road again.

Honestly this was not the kind of situation For'kel had become accustomed to in his time on the Miranda. He was used to operations from the prospective of a full Battalion sized unit... of having the ability to contact any of his troops at the drop of a hat and having the support to adapt to changing circumstances rapidly.

Guerrilla warfare sucked by comparison. He knew the requirements well enough, but frustration continued to build every time he started with the series of 'only if' questions. Only if he had a starship in orbit, only if he had a full battalion rather then a makeshift few squads... then he could 'really' force the Hydrans to retreat, and they could all go home.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem like it was going to happen anytime soon.

Era had been wandering listlessly within the confines of the underground hideout. She'd kept mostly to herself, the few times she did talk to people ending in arguments that sprang from nothing. It left her chafing and the first signs of claustrophobia were beginning to show.

Turning a corner she'd passed dozens of times already in her pacing, hoping for a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of real light... anything familiar. Which was when her eyes fell upon the face of her friend.

Tired, worn, and beleaguered as he was, his visage remained a welcome vision. "Hi," she greeted him with less cheer than usual, but still a smile. "Can I join you?"

For'kel tried to smile back, but it was more like a grim smirk.

"Sure. Take a seat." He nodded to an adjacent container. "How'd you end up stuck here?"

Era rubbed the back of her neck in clear discomfort and shame. "I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on," she admitted.

"Then I.. lost my comm badge and was essentially a prisoner for a while."

"I don't think anyone was really paying attention, hence why we're in the mess we're in now." Fork shrugged, leaning his rifle back against the same wall. "Those people you were with... other prisoners?"

"Y- No. I guess not. They're mental patients." Era looked up at him.

"Have you heard of such things before?"

For'kel blinked. "Mental patients? Yeah I've heard of them before...

but how did 'you' get mixed up with 'them'?"

"There was this injured boy. He was hurt bad - and then the Hydrans came. There weren't a lot of options, and this building, I thought it was a hospital, was in front of me. So I took him there. The fighting had broken out, it was safer to be inside than out." She sighed at the recollections. "I admit, with everything, I fell asleep on one of the beds. When I woke, they thought I was one of those patients. Wouldn't let me go."

"Wow." Fork cleared his throat, trying to keep the lingering, constant feeling of exhaustion at bay. "Well you should be safe here for the time being." His eyes wandered over her clothing, making him wonder exactly what kind of hospital had a uniform code. "They'll give you different clothing if you like."

Era shook her head. "There are others who need it more."

Smirking, For'kel moved to sit next to her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "They have replicators down here... you won't be taking anything from anyone."

"Right... I forgot.." she mumbled. She hadn't been in that hospital long, and yet the idea of rationing had become steadfastly ingrained in her. The idea of working replicators somehow seemed novel. "How are you holding up?"

"Plasma burns here and there, but they've been taken care of." He opted to smile as a way of hiding the truth. "We're doing all right.

With any luck, the fleet will return to take the planet soon."

"So they did leave. Tir'len said as much, but I couldn't believe it."

Elbows on her knees, Era let her head sink into her hands, trying to absorb the situation. "Has there been any word?"

"Not yet." Fork wrapped an arm over her shoulders and gave a bit of a squeeze. "But that could just by Hydran jamming signals as well. We have no way of knowing at this point. Did you see anybody else from the Mir where you were?"

She found herself leaning against him and didn't pull away, glad to have a friend at hand. "No, no one. How many of us are down here?"

"A couple of hundred at least, scattered all over the place. Where we are right now there's only about 60 or so Marines, not counting patrols that are currently out or people elsewhere. There are quite a few Romulan military offsetting our lack of numbers. It's been rather busy." There was something different about her, that much the Colonel could tell almost immediately. "You okay?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" she snapped, not even recognizing the harshness of her tone.

"The kind one asks when he's been awake this long!" He sighed...

exactly how did they get to this point after all? Since the day they'd met, they were good friends. It was best not to do this now.

"I should probably get going."

"Fine." Era disengaged herself from his companionable embrace and turned away on the crate, firmly indicating the conversation was over.

Muttering something in Stagnorian, For'kel grabbed his rifle and made no time in getting out of the area. There had to be something else worth while to do that didn't involve getting into shouting matches.

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO
USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Man'darr Maivia
Chief Operations Officer/ Hazard Operative USS Miranda

"Counter-Strike"

<<Ki Baratan; Romulus>>

A young-looking Marine male approached Man'darr as he rested against a nearby wall. "Sir, Colonel For'kel is currently busy, but he has instructed me to deliver these plans to you," he announced extending his hand which held a PADD.

Man'darr took the PADD. "Thank you." He read over the data on the PADD.

"Seems the colonel wants me to assemble a strike team and lead an attack on a Hydran Armory in the R'haskt Sector of the city."

"Hot damn!" the young marine exclaimed. "Count me in if you need me, sir."

"And you are?"

"PFC Thomas Summers, sir."

Man'darr thought for a moment. The marine was young, yet he would need just about everyone he could grab. "Alright, you're in."

A romulan centurion immediately approached. "Did I overhear you correct, Starfleet? That Colonel For'kel wants you to lead an attack on the Hydran Armory in t he R'haskt Sector?"

"Thats right."

"I am Centurion R'vak and I happen to have grown up around that area and I know it well. I would like to be a part of your team. I know several good men who could aid us as well. They're good fighters, most are Dominion veterans."

Man'darr nodded thoughtfully. He never before thought of the Romulans as honorable but what he had seen in the past few days had made him believe that the romulans did possess a sense of honor and were admirable fighters.

"Very well. Your presence would be honored on this mission."

"Thank you. I will go and assemble the men at once." R'vak turned and walked off briskly into the shadows of the headquarters.

Man'darr stood, looking at the PADD...there wasn't any decent information on the Armory site. However, his first priority was to assemble a team, gather intel on the area, and then initiate the strike.

B ranwen was taking another break from her work in the underground hospital, and through the tunnels she found the place she knew Man'darr would be.

Coming up behind him, she gave him a quick embrace. "So, how is life."

"As well as can be expected," Man'darr announced as he turned to face Branwen. "Colonel For'kel wants me to lead an attack on a Hydran Armory.

I am in the process of gathering troops for the assault."

"Oh, you... but that is dangerous. How long will that last? I can free a few hours to go with you.' She offered.

"I am not sure how long it will last, I am going to have to gather intel on the strength of the defenses stationed there. Hopefully we can gather enough weapons and equipment to keep the resistance going strong during our assault. I do not want you to go." The loss of his sister was still fresh with him and it had seemed that he lost everyone who had mattered to him.

He did not wa nt Branwen to suffer the same fate.

"Hey it is my job! I have been cooped up too long underground! I need some fresh air and I need a day away from dying people. Besides I need to keep an eye on you." Bran cajoled.

Man'darr sighed. "I have lost everyone who has ever mattered to me. I do not want to lose you as well."

"And I don't want to lose you, love. I am the marine remember." She embraced him. "I won't let you out of my sight."

"I guess it is hopeless then...very well. Go and get ready while I gather some troops."

"yes sir." She saluted him and rushed away to get her gear and inform her staff that she would be away for a few hours.

Man'darr shook his head. "Marines..."

Ten minutes later, Man'darr was surrounded by Branwen, Marines, Starfleet Security, and Romulan Troops, totaling in 15 all together. "R'vak, you said you know the R'haskt Sector well. What can you tell us about it?"

"The area is urban, not not as much as the central of the city, lying near the outskirts of Ki Baratan. R'tala here" R'vak gestured to a female romulan soldier, "has seen the armory that you speak of during her reconnaissance patrol last night.

The woman stepped forward. "The building the Hydrans are using as their armory is the best built in that sector with four levels. Most of the buildings around it have been destroyed, making approaching the armory difficult at best. It also appeared that the Hydrans may have made modifications to the building such as shield generators and heavy weapons.

I was not able to see exactly how many guards were present."

"Very well. Bring some charges and photon grenades as we will most likely need them. Once inside, try to grab what weapons and equipment that you can as our supply is running low. We need to make this strike count. Any que stions?"

"It's clear, sir." Branwen said formal now and in full battle gear. "My marines can go on point and scout, once inside cover your sixes, sir."

Man'darr grinned at Branwen. He hoped nothing happened to the woman, as she meant alot to him. "Very well."

A few minutes later, the small force moved through the tunnels to get as close to the armory as possible.

Bran had her marines do their job wanting them to impress people for once.

They moved quickly but thoroughly and it wasn't long before she could give him the all clear.

"Ready to move in, sir." She whispered.

R'tala stepped next to Man'darr. "We should be about one standard block from the building. There's the line that runs power to the building, and also powering the generators," she said poining to a panel that jutted out slightly from the wall of the tunnel.

"I'm sure the generators will have a backup power supply." Man'darr had no way of guessing the interval beween when the power was shut off to the time the generators would automatically switch to backup power. "Alright, I want a romulan soldier here to shut off the power when I give the signal. R'vak, take your men to the west side of the building. R'Tala, take the East. The rest of us will hit the building from the South. Once the power is down, immediately target the shield generators. You have two minutes to get into position." R'tala and R'vak both nodded as they and their troops headed off into adjacent tunnels.

"Sir!" Bran said and used handsigns with her troops to get them all in covering postions taking care they could protect the navy types.

Man'darr and the other teams soon took up their positions on the surface.

He looked to the east and west to see shadowy figures moving.

Man'darr then tossed a rock into the tunnel for the sign for the romulan to cut the power. The building went dark a second later, immediately followed by several bursts of Federation phaser and romulan disruptor fire, all striking their targets--the shield generators.

Man'darr lept up from the kneeling position and into a full sprint as Hydran weapons opened up on the assault teams from within the building.

Branwen and her people covered them as well as possible keeping under cover as good as they could. But she was worried about her boyfriend and that made her take a bit more risk then she usually did.

Less than a moment later, the three shild generators were taken out by phaser fire. "Move!" Man'darr exclaimed as he and several Security officers rushed towards the building. He fired his phaser rifle at the door's controls. The destruction of the door controls caused the door to become jammed. Seeing the door was jammed shut, Man'darr motioned over a nearby Security Officer. "Place a charge on this door!"

"Aye, sir!" the officer immediately went to work on placing the charge on the door. A few seconds later, he gave the thumbs up. "Charge set!"

"Move!" Man'darr and several other officers took cover as the charge went off, destroying the doors completely.

Man'darr spun around from behind the debris, tossing a Photon grenade into the building where the doors had been only moments ago. Screams were soon heard within the building as the photon grnade detonated.

The marines stayed outside making sure the Navy people would not be cut off, that the way out would still be open when they finished their job. But the Hydran fire was getting heavier, and they were starting to take casualties.

Branwen herself had taking a glancing hit to her left arm. She could only pray that Man'darr would hurry up and get the job done.

Man'darr, along with the Security and Romulan teams entered the building and spread out into groups of two as they selected their targets and fired. The interior of the building was poorly lit with emergency lights which ran off an independant power supply, but was soon, filled with flashes of red, green, and blue from the heavy amount of phaser and disruptor fire. "R'vak! Place the charges! The rest of you, grab what you can from the weapons lockers!" Man'darr ordered as he ducked behind some fallen debris on the floor and returned fire, striking two Hydrans in the chest.

The other members of the assault team began to toss Hydran weapons and equipment into large duffel bags. Suddenly, Man'darr heard a familiar clinking sound and noticed a small object bouncing across the floor. "Grenade!"

The team members immediately took cover, but not in time for Man'darr as the grenade was closest to him. The resulting blast sent the large Capellan flying back through the air and landing hard on the floor several feet away.

R'vak was the first to reach Man'darr as the rest of the troops continued to provide covering fire. "Are you alright?"

Man'darr groaned as he sat up slowly--there was alot of pain to his right side. The Hazard suit had protected him fairly well from the blast, but not completely as he moved to check his suit's condition...the computer interface console on his wrist was dead, meaning the suit was now useless as he noticed several tears in the uniform also. "Yeah...I'm fine...are the charges set?"

"Just about...my people need one more minute."

"Then lets give them that minute." Man'darr drew a Type 2 Phaser, checking the energy cell. Everything seemed to be working ok as he then leved the phaser and fired, striking the wall where a Hydran had ducked behind. R'Vak also retuned fire with a Romulan Disruptor Pistol. The air inside the building was heated from the numerous amounts of phaser and disruptor fire.

R'vak saw a Tomar give the signal that the charges were ready. "Charges are ready. I suggest we get out of here before their reinforcements arrive."

"Agreed." Man'darr wanted to finish the fight, but he knew it would be a lost cause and that the rebellion needed the weapons that they had captured during the raid. Man'darr stood, grunting with pain as he held his right side with one hand and the phaser in the other.

"Move back!" R'vak ordered as the teams retreated from the building, as the Marines provided the covering fire.

As the team gained distance from the structure, R'vak pressed the detonator.

The resulting blasts sent out minor shockwaves as the they ripped through the building's support structure. Within two seconds, the building was imploding on itself, crushing the Hydrans within.

Branwen saw them come out and immediately ordered her marines to fall back and cover the retreat. She also could not miss seeing her boyfriend was injured. He was still moving, but with difficulty.

It was very hard for her not to be able to rush to his side, but to stay calm and do her job. It did help are ignored her own pain in her left arm as she now worried about getting the job done and finding out how badly Man'darr was wounded.

Finally they could fall back into another tunnel and were out of danger.

Immediately she went to his side. "What happened, how bad is it?"

"Got a little too close to a Hydran Grenade...there is alot of pain to my right side. I believe the blast broken at least a few ribs...feels like there is more damage...but I will make it. We need to meet back up with the rebellion."

"Somebody else can do that." Branwen said resolutely. "I need to get you to the hospital. Those wounds sound like they need immediate attention."

"You can do that once we get back. These weapons and supplies are paramount to the rebellion," Man'darr replied as he moved down the tunnel with the remanents of the assault team.

"I know, sir. But with all due respect, one of your officers can do that.

You are in no condition to go. I have to insist that you come with me to the hospital, sir."

Man'darr had been aware that a new medical aid station had been set up in another part of the city in the tunnels, but he hated medicine. "You can heal me...once we meet back up...with the rebellion. The hospital is not as safe. And stop with that sir nonsense, Bran." Man'darr winced in pain as it seemed to be getting worse and with the Hazard Suit destroyed, he had no way of knowing the full extent of his injuries, which fustrated him because he knew he would be of little use to the rebellion.

She held her tricorder over him. "Just trying to be professional and keeping it separate from our private life. And you are going with me I am afraid."

Man'darr sighed. "Very well," he replied angrily.

"Good. Let's brief the others then I will take you and the other wounded over to the hospital." She didn't feel good for winning but knew he needed help.

"R'vak, head back to the rebellion with the weapons and supplies. The doctor here wants me to go with her to the new hospital," Man'darr was embarrassed.

"That is good. You are badly wounded. You fought well, Starfleet...I admire that. I look forward to seeing you back at the rebellion soon."

"Count on it." Man'darr watched as the team, loaded down with extra Hydran supplies and weapons head down the tunnel to the left.

"Alright, lets go," Man'darr said gruffly, still holding his side.

Branwen gave some ask instructions to R'vak making sure that he knew what to do, and would do it. Then she took her boyfriend back to the hospital caves.

"Scare Tactics"

Tae'ben
Acting Engineer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Acting Machiavellian Prince on exile, USS Galaxy

****

Sickbay

USS GALAXY

****

Tae'ben scowled as he carefully lowered himself upon the nearest free biobed.

He had not planned to visit the Sickbay again, at least not until there had been word on Lt. Grey's condition, but it appeared that this ship and his father had something in common. Both appeared to want to kill him.

"I'm sick of this room." The Romulan boy muttered as he poked around the gash in his left thigh.

"We all are. That's why it's called 'sickbay', not because of the patients."

Tae'ben slanted his eyes. Somewhere above and beyond the gash sat a Human Starfleet officer. He was slouching on a bench, his arms spread to the sides. A sly grin was fixed on the man's face, and his eyes were equally fixed on another Starfleet officer lying on the bed halfway into main sickbay.

The boy didn't see any pips on the man's collar but decided to assume that he was a higher rank than Tae'ben. "Of course, sir. But I'm

*very* sick of it."

Saul lazily turned his head toward the Romulan. Young Tae'ben had no way of knowing that Saul had him in his cross hairs ever since he spoke with Captain M'Kantu. As Chief of Intel, he knew every Romulan on the ship except the newcomer. Even in a time of crisis, with his Technical officer lying on a biobed merely several meters away, he still found the time to pry into what could be the solution to the Andrus problem.

"You probably want to be on ch'Rihan right now, helping to get rid of the Hydrans instead of rotting here." Saul tried. That's what a young Human officer would think, if the Hydrans invaded earth. "Believe me, it's better here."

Tae'ben ducked his head a bit. In his heart, he thought that maybe the Hydran invasion was what his government deserved, although he did not want the women and children to suffer. "I suppose."

"So, how did you end up on the sickest part of this boat?"

"Engineering is a mess. I wasn't paying close enough attention when I was repairing a damaged console and it caught me right here." He pointed at the gash in his leg.

"The person who will invent invulnerable consoles will win a Nobel prize." Saul commented as he examined the gash.

Then, something clicked, something completely unrelated to Andrus.

"Do you have any idea if Nara Roswell is OK?"

Tae'ben nodded. "She's in charge of Engineering right now." Noting the odd look on the man's face he added that she appeared to be uninjured.

Saul smiled to himself. So his princesses had managed to get out of the fight unscathed, and in charge of keeping this boat afloat. He considered for a while now suggesting to her to try and gain more command responsibilities. He even thought of recommending her as his replacement in Tactical, since she WAS a Commander in the Sakarian army and probably more talented in the field than he was.

Then, he realized that the only way Nara could be in charge of Engineering was if Eshe and Grey were out, and all ambitious thoughts drained from his mind. He focused on the task at hand, which was a certain young Romulan engineer.

How did he end up here? Was he Andrus' partner? Or perhaps a Tal Shiar agent, giving Andrus the leverage he had on M'Kantu? No... he seemed too young to be either.

He decided to get the 'official version' from the source.

"So, how did you end up on the Galaxy? We don't have many R'ihanssu on board."

There was little point in keeping the secret now that the Captain M'Kantu knew, Tae'ben decided. "I have... defected."

Saul perked in his seat. "What? From where? To where?"

"Anywhere but here." The boy said with a shrug, shifting his leg and scowling at a passing nurse. Only the cries of a patient a few beds down kept him from calling out for some assistance. "I have heard the planet Risa is nice."

The boy was either very naive, or very stupid, Saul reckoned. If he was trying to fool Saul by saying that he was a defector, then he definitely belonged to the second category. The Dutchman decided to play along for now.

"Haven't been there, but it's on my 'To visit' list. ch'Rihan was too, I must say. Did you have any actual Starfleet training? You ARE wearing the uniform."

Tae'ben looked down at his torn and dirtied uniform. "So I fit into the department better."

Saul sighed theatrically. Behind the disdained appearance, though, his mind finally made a very important connection.

"Listen, you are a rather lucky fellow. Defection is a very delicate matter, you see. I happen to know you were smuggled in that crate from ch'Rihan, because I'm from this ship's intelligence department.", he pointed at his collar, "But the defection is not common knowledge as far as I know. It's lucky you told me and not anyone else. DID you tell anyone else?"

Tae'ben blinked. He hadn't taken the man for an intelligence officer which suddenly made him feel very wary as Intelligence on his planet was widely associated with torture and the Tal'Shiar. He'd been stupid and Andrus was probably going to give him hell for it. "No."

"Thank goodness for small miracles."

The boy tilted his head. "You're Saul, aren't you?"

"Shaul Bental, at your service." Saul bowed slightly, just as they taught him in Xeno-cultures class. The lesson about the Romulans became more and more useful. "I hope our common friend didn't say bad things about me. He's a big fan of scare tactics."

Tae'ben raised an eyebrow, feeling himself warm towards the icy exterior that the sons of Romulan senators were prone to exhibit. "And you as an intelligence officer are not?"

"Only toward the really bad guys." Saul lied. "My job is to collect and provide information. It's too bad that organizations like Tal Shiar took it to a completely different place. Speaking of which, I'm starting to think that he may be working for them."

The boy frowned. "Who?"

Saul's face darkened. "You know exactly who. But it's only a guess, one of many. Come to think of it, telling you that sounds like a scare tactic. Forget about it."

"What makes you think ... " Tae'ben started but then composed himself.

He had never had reason to suspect Andrus and wouldn't start blindly accepting any accusation that was thrown against the man.

But he *would* be asking Andrus some questions later. "I do not think your guess is accurate."

"I sure hope not. Doesn't matter, though, since HE was down on ch'Rihan when the Hydrans came." Saul stated matter-of-factly. "And even if he WAS here, I'm sure even a Tal Shiar agent would understand that the game is over. I mean, damaging the Galaxy or even collecting information on it would be pointless when your organization is overrun."

And if this boy WAS of the Tal Shiar, Saul thought, he should get the message.

Tae'ben hoped his face was less startled than he felt. "Andrus was left behind?"

"So I understood from the ship's record when I wanted to arrange a meeting." Saul confirmed.

"Excuse me..."

Saul turned toward the nurse. The woman, ignorant of the conversation or the fact that a Romulan defector was right in front of her eyes, updated Saul about Eve's condition. 'Stable' was the word Saul anticipated, and graciously enough the nurse said it after three sentences.

"Excellent, thank you very much." Saul said, standing up. He beamed at the young Romulan. "Well then. It was nice to finally meet you, and if there's any help you need or anything you want to tell me, please do make a contact."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Tae'ben said stiffly. Inside he was fighting down a surge of panic. Andrus was the one who arranged transportation; what was Tae'ben supposed to do now?

Saul's grin grew deeper, as if saying 'We shall see'.

"Wings of Salvation" Part One

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Second Platoon CO, SFMC – USS Galaxy
Lt (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe – Engineering assistant – IKS T'Kengra
Mortan, Son of Kraldo, Chief Medical Officer - IKS T'Kengra (written by Rob Snow)
Michael McDowell, Federation civilian engineering specialist

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering, USS Galaxy

Ensign Keldan, Operations officer USS Galaxy

(Set one day after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas')

**** Medical Bay, IKS T'Kengra****

Steven woke with a groan. His body tingled all over and it felt like he had just been for a spin in a tumble dryer. Light streamed through his semi closed eyelids as they began to open. It took a few moments for him to adjust to the light source, a long halogen light, at least he assumed it was, that sat, sunken into the roof above where he lay. Moving an arm slightly, he realized that he was no longer wearing his armor, nor for that matter and he couldn't fathom why, his pants! At least whoever had removed them had left him the decency of a blanket and his underwear.

The air felt a little damp and had a slightly musty odor to it, though he couldn't place the scent. He took in a deep breath while trying to rise to a sitting position, and coughed as the cool air chilled his lungs. Where the hell am I? He asked himself. And where are my pants? Looking around, the dark textures of the room reminded him of the Klingons, though the biobed next to him, which was currently empty, looked Cardassian in nature. Though, he was feeling quite giddy and might have been hallucinating.

Then a large male Klingon approached him, with a large syringe, from a doorway that he couldn't see from his prone position and he freaked!

Looking down at the weak Terran/Trill on the bed before him Mortan laid a massive hand on the humans's chest and pushed him down forcefully onto the bed, "Stay Human," he ordered brusquely as he raised the hypo to Jonas's neck, "I do not wish to waste my time healing you twice in the same day."

"Get that thing away from me!" Steven growled at the huge man. "And where the heck am I?

Ignoring the squirming human he stuck the hypo under his chin and activated the device, sending a cold stream of chemicals into his body, "Do not die human, I hate to see my work wasted," he informed him coldly. Turning to the other occupied beds he scowled at the other patients, "You should all have been born Klingon," he decided, "Your injuries would not have even slowed a Klingon Warrior!"

"That might be so," another voice interjected softly from a part of the room where Jonas couldn't see, "but then you do have the advantage Mortan; two hearts, two livers, twenty three ribs, an eight chambered heart, three lungs…" she paused, "Pity you don't have two brains." she added thoughtfully.

A smile could be heard through her tone, oh how she loved to tease Mortan; the highlight of the inferior hybrids day.

Growling at the annoying Trill Mortan turned away and muttered something about honorable combat being wasted on one such as her. He had decided not long after her arrival that she led a charmed life, the Trill gods obviously watched over her. How else could you explain her continued survival!

Steven felt whatever the Klingon had given him go to work, soothing the fevered tingle. "What happened to us?" He asked, when he noticed slight movement in the other beds nearby.

"I do not know exactly what happened," Mortan rumbled ominously, "except that you were all damaged in the battle and rescued and that you all now owe your lives to this ship and its crew!"

From across the room Kala rolled her eyes at Mortans declaration; she had saved their lives, not the dammed crew. If Qel had his way they would all still be floating in space. She bit back her angered response and looked down at one of the occupants in the bed, the bed that she had been sitting over for the last few hours, sighing gently; she turned away and crossed the room to where Jonas lay.

Cringing slightly as Morton took out his frustrations about her on his patient she touched him lightly on the shoulder, hoping that he might find some sort of bedside manor, preferably some time this century! She looked down at the officer and smiled. Her face was radically different from the one with the hypo! No ridges graced her forehead, no broken teeth littered her smile. In fact her skin was smooth and pale 'cept for the spots that ran from her forehead, down the side of her face and disappeared into the collar of her Starfleet Uniform. Tucking a loose strand of firey red hair behind her ear she leaned in close, "How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"Like I've been beaten by a stick repeatedly." he replied. "What did they do to me?"

~A stick?~ Kala repeated to herself, ~is that all? Just a stick? *I* feel as if I have been beaten by a stick every day….~ refocusing on the man before her, "By 'they' I am assuming you mean the Hydrans and not our friendly doctor Mortan here?" she asked unable to suppress a grin as she looked across at the huffing Klingon.

"Yeah, I guess so." Steven replied, his mind still a little hazy as to what had happened.

"The Hydran attacked the Galaxy, which I believe is the ship you were on. Their helbore cannons did a lot of damage to the hull, both aft and bow of the ship. You and the three others here were sucked out of one of the hull breaches. I can only assume that you lost power to that deck, as I see no other reason for the emergency force-fields not to hold." Her eyes lowered momentarily, "The damage was extensive," she added solemnly, "We saw the battle from here and…" she paused, realizing that her tone was quite grim. Smiling to lighten the mood she looked back to Mortan.

"Mortan here," she gestured to the brusque Klingon, "healed the injuries that you sustained. He can tell you more about that." She stood back to let Mortan inform Jonas of just what he had done.

Walking over and looming over the weak creatures infesting his sickbay, the oversized Klingon doctor scowled. "Nothing you would not expect of creatures who attempt to swim in a vacuum without an environment suit! Minor frostbite to your extremities, but sufficient damage to warrant the removal of the end of one toe," he informed Jonas with a tone that was difficult to identify, "be grateful that is the only extremity I chose to amputate! Your own ship should be able to regenerate the injury; we do not worry about such trivialities here! Some ruptured blood vessels, minor capillaries that were easily repaired. Some damage to the alveoli in your lungs, and muscle cramps which should pass on their own soon. Plus a few broken bones between you all and a few plasma burns, what you call third degree burns to your epidermis. Nothing a true warrior would worry about, but since none of you are obviously real warriors I have treated you. Food and bloodwine are what you require now to fortify yourself for the coming battle."

Once he had finished his rather analytical explanation of Jonas' injuries with as much technical medical terms as he could possibly put into one sentence, and Kala swore that he made some up just to sound pompous, she stepped forward again so that she was in Jonas' line of vision without him having to move his 'stick' beaten body too much.

"So in a nut shell…." she giggled slightly and smiled, perching on the end of his bed she folded her arms, "…you are now a guest aboard the IKS T'Kengra."

"A Thief in the Night"

Pilot "Stubbs" Taev, Saber Squadron , USS Galaxy

Major Kol's Personal Quarters, USS Galaxy

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

"Miserable-stinking-slig-for-brain-Klingon-no-sense-damn-suicide!!"

The words were mullfled, not by eny sense of decorum for the honored dead, but by the position of the speaker hands on floor searching for something valuable. Judging by the spartan nature of Kol's quarters however, the tall Klingon was one of those "rich in honor, poor in possessions" type of warrior.

"Bloodwine? Garbage. Rings? Probably not." The Ferengi was rifling through his deceased wingman's possessions under the pretense of storing them for the return to the House of Kor, but Taev had something else in mind. One item would be put to good use... but which one? And where to look?

"Armor? More trash. What in the name of Compound Interest is this??"

He examined a multi-bladed mek'leth, sharp and gleaming. "Hmmm...

too small. Not dramatic enough." The Klingon blade was tossed into the storage crate with the rest of Kol's things. "Maybe the closet?"

Taev went to the alcove and pressed the opening stud in the wall

completely unprepared for what would follow. The Battle over Romulus

had hammered the Galaxy badly - many items had been shifted or displaced. Kol's bat'leth collection was just some of them, and fourteen razor sharp blades spilled from the closet onto the hapless wide-eyed Ferengi, who could only watch them fall as a single, heartfelt thought raced across his mind.

~I hate Klingons.~

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

Shuttle-Bay One, USS Galaxy

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

"Galaxy tactical control, this is Saber Two - all systems operational and ready for launch."

[Stand by Saber Two.]

There wasn't as much blood as he expected, but each drop that had flowed had been accompanied with as much Klingon-style profanity as Taev could muster. ~Kol would have liked that at least - the slig-brained piece of whammut dropping!~ Fourteen of the damn things!

Some jeweled, some etched with runes, some still crusted in black, dried blood. He was tempted to take a bat'leth studded with what looked like rubies when another caught his eye.

Compared to the others, it was the plainest and surely the oldest, but it's edge gleamed in a way only hundreds of hours of sharpening can accomplish. Further, the leather grips were dark with the sweat of use, but intact and well maintained - many of the others showed no sign of having ever been picked up.

~This is probably the one~ he had thought. The other possessions Kol left behind would wait. This thing would make it's way back by a different river.

[Saber two - you're not scheduled for patrol. Who gave you your flight plans?]

"That would be Major Rex - he's in his quarters. Not my fault if he didn't inform you."

[We'll check. Stand by Saber Two.]

~By the Exchaquer this had better work!~ Corran Rex was, of course, not in his quarters. A crippled internal sensor made confirming that impossible, and re-wiring a comm-system that crewmen had to step over on deck fourteen made bypassing some of the internal communication more than possible.

The faked recording of Rex's voice and probable answers were a complete shot in the dark.

~What am I getting myself into?~ he thought. Truth be told, he didn't even like Kol. In fact, mutual loathing was the closest thing the two had ever held for each other. The Klingon was arrogant in the manner of his kind, perhaps more so than the usual stock. "Weakling!" Kol had growled before the dogfight. "Today you will see the deeds of a warrior. Learn something from them!" Kol's final lesson had a single-minded fatality about it that cut against the Ferengi's grain.

~What's keeping them! Did the bypass get noticed? Did someone fix the sensors? Frak it's hot in here!~ Taev flexed his hand, noticing the tremble that was never there before. Battle was one thing - this?

An altogether different kind of fear, one he'd never experienced before.

[Saber Two... we've confirmed your flight plan. You're cleared for launch.]

"Roger that, Control. Saber Two commencing launch in sixty seconds."

~About time!~ The controls of Taev's fighter flickered to life and the HUD activated before him, only this time he wasn't flying against Hydrans. It would be an altogether different type of target this day.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering he heard in his lobes and quell the cold sweat that dampened his flight suit.

"Launching in five, four, three" the final numbers were drowned out by the roar if the small fighter's thrusters at maximum as Taev left the Galaxy without orders.

Without approval.

Without a clue.

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