"Movers and Shakers" pt II

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

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The Ra-Ghatoreii Room
Top Floor, Palais de la Concorde
Paris, Earth, UFP

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"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."

Murdock had to fight the urge to offer a sarcastic comment here. It was hardly appropriate, but still, the Admiral didn't even see why the matter was being debated. They had a mutual defense treaty with the Romulans. They'd given their word. That should have been enough.

"It is also my duty to report, before this debate progresses further,"

Bacco continued before anyone could reply, "that Admiral Murdock and I received word just before this briefing that the Hydran Armada has, in fact, reached Romulus. Our forces suffered massive casualties. Of the sixteen ships we sent, four were destroyed. The Romulan forces in system suffered sixty percent casualties. We were also informed that Captain Summers - a man several of you know, I'm aware - ordered the retreat of the joint Federation/Romulan force, shortly before his death. He's far from the only good man to die today over Romulus, Councilors. He have thousands of Federation personnel wounded, and thousands more left behind on the planet after the retreat."

The Alpha Centauran contingent bustled about like bees at that news.

Ambassador Thrace remained perfectly calm amid the commotion, like the ancient marble statue she resembled. An aide went running from the chamber.

Mauricio Carneiro spat his coffee out all over the Vulcan councilor in shock. "What?! Why didn't you tell us this before?!" he demanded, in unison along with several others. "What ships? Is there a causality list?"

He ran around the large dark wood table and grabbed the PADD that the President held in her hand and started scanning it for a particular name.

Admiral Murdock couldn't be silent now. "My people have fought and bled and died for that world today, Councilors," the old Scotsman said grimly. "If ye vote to withdraw our remaining forces from their territory, then yuir as good as spittin' on their graves. And ye need to remember - ye ALL need to remember - that the Romulan Empire is THE closest border to the Federation's core. The Hydrans have taken Romulus. If we dinna help them in gettin' it back, within six months, we WILL be facing an invasion fleet, here, at Earth itself."

"More'n that," the Admiral continued, barreling over whichever Councilor it was started to interrupt him. "We gave our bloody word.

If we dinna live up to that - if ye in here, the leaders o' the Federation - canna even decide to do that, then maybe this government isnae even WORTH defendin'."

T'Latrek turned toward the Admiral and nodded slightly - the only outward show of her agreement with the man's words. Vulcan would stand by those treaties that were made in mutual defense, despite the fact that war was an unfavourable option.

Diana looked to the door. Where the hell was that blasted aide of hers? She was not going to make any decisions without knowing all the information.

Councilor James Pennington, of Earth, remained silent following the Admiral's outburst. A charismatic man, he'd taken de facto leadership of the Hawk party after the death of Jurgen Hoth. He was an unambiguously political creature, and that showed in his silence so far. He preferred to observe, to understand, and then, when it would have the most effect.. then he acted.

For now, Murdock's outburst was telling. The "Old Man", as the Starfleet folks called him, was an unabashed patriot. He believed in the Federation, in what it stood for, and all that jazz. Pennington found it.. quaint, in a way.

But for such a man to make the suggestion that the Federation wouldn't be worth defending... it was a hammer blow in the Council's deliberations.

As Commander of Starfleet, Murdock had far more political pull than Pennington believe the man was aware of. Murdock was an idealist, he knew - and such men typically thought of the business of politics as beneath them. Murdock could have his illusions - to Pennington, that made him a known quality.

Sipping his tea, the Councilor for Earth leaned back in his chair, and watched as the discussion continued.

Krim Aldos, of Bajor, had now been serving on the Council for just over six years, since Bajor's admission into the Federation. He'd been a controversial choice, at first - given that he'd led the Circle's military efforts to remove the Federation from Bajor, that first post-Occupation year.

And yet, he was now one of President Bacco's staunchest allies. And Admiral Murdock's - the two men had worked together a great deal on the Sisko Yards, the Starfleet shipbuilding facility that had been constructed in the Bajoran system, as well as the satellite Starfleet Academy that had opened in Ashalla, Bajor's capitol.

"Admiral Murdock's right." Krim said, his agreement surprising no one.

Like Murdock, he was a soldier. He believed a man's word was bond - and especially, a government's. "I know people don't want war. But we agreed to a mutual defense pact with the Romulans. If we ignore that, if we pull out, it's going to cost us, and bad. Our treaties are only as good as our reputation. If we can spit on that, we can kiss our negotiating capitol goodbye."

"And aside from that..." the Bajoran continued. "It's just wrong. It's wrong, and it's stupid. We know they'll come here, if they're unchallenged."

The Centauran aide returned and whispered something to Ambassador Thrace. She stood resembling Athena Palais with her grace and dignity. "Excuse me, Madame President. I'm afraid I must withdraw from these discussions. I have a personal involvement that prevents me from judging this matter impartially. Until I have further information, Alpha Centauri formally abstains. If you'll excuse me."

"I have a personal involvement, too," Mauricio said down to the PADD in his hands. His son had been left behind on Romulus. He looked up to the rest on the Security Council, continuing, his voice loud, rushed and passionate, "But, it doesn't matter! What are we even doing here? There's no decision to make! We are at war! We sent troops and ships to Romulus in response to their request as per our alliance agreement. The Hydrans have declared war on them, and our forces have met them in battle. We have already engaged them, several hours ago. Legally, we are at war now, whether we send more troops or not."

"But, that's not the point, is it?" he said, looking at Murdock.

"Romulus is no longer a fortress we are debating whether or not to hold. Its become a rescue operation. Not 'do we save the Romulans?'

but, 'do we rescue our own men?' The answer is obviously yes."

"Madame President, if I may?" The small woman from Delta IV rose as Nan Bacco nodded her approval. "Colleagues - the news of the fleet today is indeed dire. The worst possible outcome has resulted despite the very best of intentions and the very best of our efforts. Each of us here has a personal involvement in the consequences of this most recent Rattle of Romulus, and each of us must share in the blood that has been shed and the lives that have been lost. Each of us, either by our own inaction or complacency over the years has contributed to this day. The Hydrans have always been fiercely independent - but not long ago we shared a common enemy in the Rihannsu-Klingon Coalition during the days of the Grand Alliance. We were never allies, but we aided each other when we could. Later our peoples fought and died together against the Andromedans with much of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers."

Eleana trembled, as if cold, but her quiet voice remained steady. "How little we seem to remember of those days! We have neglected any relationship with the Hydrans over the years just as we have done with the Lyrans and the Gorn. This inaction has brought us to this day - a dark day when our finest have been cut down by the Hydran sword - and truly, we cannot even accurately answer the question 'Why?'."

The bald, wrinkled woman turned to face the Commander in Chief of Starfleet squarely and with a look of compassion. "Admiral Murdock, I have only reverence for those who have lost their lives over Romulus.

Their suffering scars us, their loss will haunt us, and leave us weaker and poorer with their passing - but they are gone and must dwell in our bitter past. It is for the living and the future we must focus on now, and sending more souls to Romulus to face an unknown weapon backed with a powerful fleet seems unwise. We need to know more before such an action can take place - more of the Hydrans, more of their weapon, more of our allies... *all* our allies. This decision may be the most important one each of us makes for our peoples - the living, and the honored dead who died for them - deserve our best."

"You would have us bow before those who would murder our peoples?"

zh'Faila practically growled at the weak-kneed bald-head, "Those who conquer and murder, those who will soon turn on us?" She spun around, addressing the room-at-large. "I remember not three months ago, a representative from Starfleet Intelligence telling us that the very neglect Councilor Eleana speaks of allowed the Lyrans to be conquered and subjugated by the Hydrans. Will we further neglect the Romulans to their demise? Will we take the progress that has been made in ending the subjugation of the Remans and toss it aside, allowing them to again be subjugated by another race? Will we allow our old allies the Klingons to become vulnerable to an enemy that will be perfectly content to provide them with the 'honorable' deaths? To neglect these friends is to prove ourselves no better than the Hydran monsters, and Andor will not stand for it. If the Federation refuses to stand for the right, Andor will stand alone."

It was a bold statement. Never before had a Federation member threatened to unilaterally use its own military might independently of the other members, but that was the gauntlet that zh'Faila had thrown down; go to the aid of the Romulans and their Starfleet allies, or Andor will go alone.

'Lainu rested her head against a raised hand, closing her eyes as she listened to the chaos around her. Ironically, at their heart her people were a warrior race; centuries ago, they fought and conquered like most races. But now, they went to war only when the time called for it, and only when they knew there would be success. Once they started to fight, they did not back down regardless of the consequences for the other side. She did not necessarily have that faith in the Federation. Never had she seen the sort of all-out warfare from the Federation that she expected might be necessary. The closest she had ever seen was during Borg incursions.

Of course, she wasn't sure the Lasari had the same capabilities they once did. Over the centuries, they had almost Vulcanised, becoming more peaceful and isolationist, and their combat techniques ceremonial. "I do not believe that course of action would have the desired intent," 'Lainu said, though her soft voice was lost in the large room.

Three members of the Alpha Centauran contingent remained behind, two aides and Ambassador Thrace's personal secretary. One aide slipped quietly over to the Vulcan contingent. The other headed for the Bajoran contingent.

"Madame President," the personal secretary spoke quietly, but could barely be heard over the uproar in the room. He looked pale. "Madame President," he spoke more boldly. "Alpha Centauri has always believed that the best decisions are made with cool heads and the best information available. Currently, this council has neither.

Ambassador Thrace has asked me to request a recess in these proceedings, in order that all the Councilors may review the information that Admiral Murdock has in his possession. Otherwise, Alpha Centauri must formally abstain from voting on this issue."

T'Latrek stood a moment later, the only visible sign of emotion was a faint darkening of her eyes. "Madame President, Vulcan agrees with Alpha Centauri. We second the request for a recess. No progress can be made with such blatant emotionalism."

Surprisingly, the soft purr of Counselor M'Relle was also in agreement. "Cait is in agreement."

A loud clicking growl came from the far end of the table from a shortish, toad-like reptilian draped in vermilion robes and furs. "I can't believe we're having this conversation! The fiasco over Romulus was brought about by just such hesitation!" Gorus Gelaminger's emerald crestscales flexed as the short councilor rose to address his peers. "We sent a paltry fleet with insufficient firepower to bear the burden of our responsibilities and promises - admit it! Hundreds have perished, and we quibble in such a manner as to bring about the deaths of more."

Gelaminger balled his small scaled hands into fists and slammed them down loudly onto the table top. "Waiting and complacency has brought the Lyrans and Romulans down - will the Enemy be engaged in debate as to how to conquer the next species? Our indecision is just as responsible for the deaths over Romulus as the Hydran Hellbore and, my friends, remember: the more we delay the more the Hydrans become entrenched. How many more must die or become enslaved? ENOUGH I SAY!"

The saurian's high pitched voiced echoed through the chamber as he slowly resumed his seat. "Gnala stands with Andor!"

Dynkorra felt her tail flick in irritation. She would have found talk of morality more convincing had it not come from a Hawk's mouth. "If we cannot agree at this time upon what action we should *morally* choose, Madame President, Cait would request a short recess to see if we at least have the resources to go to war."

"I second Cait's call for recess," Tomorok snapped out. "I'll second any motion that will stop this before it goes any further." The Rigellian's anti-Federation views were well-known to his peers, and more often than not found him siding with the Doves but if this were allowed to continue, then his views - and vote - would be swept aside as meaningless in the rising tide of emotion. That, he wouldn't tolerate if he could help it.

Maurcio Carneiro opened his mouth to explain how one never had the desired resources for war, and therefore, that excuse for recess wouldn't resolve anything, but stopped himself from being dragged further into the political quagmire. He retreated a few steps away from the table and inhaled deeply, gathering his self control. His son had been left behind on Romulus, status unknown. Knowing their family and their seemingly genetic gift for survival and improvisation, he figured that Thyago would be okay. And due to their family's addiction to adrenaline, Thyago was likely having a good time.

When he refocused on the large conference table, he noticed that the Vulcan, Caitian and Centaurian representatives were standing and withdrawing from the table, taking their recess even though it hadn't yet been approved by the President. The councilors from Andor and Gnala were storming off in a huff, while everyone else was still arguing. Maurcio saw Gravlok, the Tellerite, reach his arm under the table, and he wondered if he was going to take off his shoe and slam it on the table as he had done six or seven other times this year.

President Bacco shook her head with a heavy sigh. She could hardly dispute the need for a recess, despite her own statements earlier. But the Council had the right to have all the current information before making a decision - she'd hoped for swifter action... but that was apparently in vain. "Very well." she said, cutting off the next Councillor who was opening his mouth. "We'll adjourn for a one hour recess for review of the battle report. But when we return, Councilors, I tell you this: We WILL be coming to a decision. This session is adjourned."

"Boarding Exeter"

Ens. Lela Beral
OPS Officer, USS Galaxy

Lt. Gwen Parri
Asst. Chief counselor, USS Miranda
acting CMO USS Exeter

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USS Galaxy

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When Lela came back to the bridge, captain was searching for volunteers to replace killed and wounded crewmen on USS Exeter. Lela didn't hesitate a second and soon after she was heading to the transporter room 1. Her instructions were quite unclear. Help with getting the ship into the fighting-capable state again.

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USS Exeter

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As soon as Lela arrived onboard Exeter, she took one engineering toolcase, that someone forgot in the room, probably after doing some repairs. Then she began her tour through the ship, searching for some work. When she was passing by the sickbay, she spoted the terrible mess there through the doors, which were broken. She entered and looked for the highest ranking officer present. There is one lieutenant. She came to her and said:

"Ensign Lela Beral sir. Do you want any help here with repairs?

"Ensign, you are a gift from heaven." Gwendolyn smiled at her. "We could certainly use all the help we can get over here. I have just arrived myself, but the ship and this section were hit bad during the battle. Call me Gwen by the way, I hate sir."

"Aye s... Gwen" Oh this will be a problem. Lela is used to call her superiors by proper titles, not so familiarily. "So which equipment is most important? I'd begin with those."

"Life-support." Gwen said promptly. "And after that the equipment in the operating rooms. It's working right now, but shaky. I would like to be prepared for further emergencies, Lela." She showed the young woman where the major problems lay.

'Hm, life support, that should be maintained from the engineering. But maybe it's only local, I didn't encounter any problems on the way here.'

"OK, I'll check the life support first." Lela carefuly evaded the addressing.

Then she came to one console and began with the diagnostic.

"Hm, only minor damage on the air condition. That would be easy s... Gwen" 'damned that won't be easy'

"I meant the life suppot machines for the critical patients. I think they are on a diffent system." Gwen showed her. "See the lines run there, Lela." She tried not to smile at the other woman's difficulty with informality. "you are surprised by my request to call me by my first name, aren't you?"

"Yes I am ma... Gwen. I'm not used to it. You know, chain of command is pretty important to me, even if it is my friend in personal life, in duty I address him or her by formal title. Now, let me look on the beds."

Lela came to one biobed and tried to run a diagnostic. Unfortunately automated diagnostic system was offline. So she opened the bed and began to repair it manually. It took about 15 minutes, till she was thorugh.

"I think that should do it. There was only overloaded electronics and some burned circuits. Nothing difficult... Gwen."

"That's a relief, thank you Lela. And I understand the chain of command, but counselors are usually a bit more relaxed with it. We have to forge a bond with our clients from sailor to captain. That is why rank is not so important to me to be honest. Is there anything else you need to look at?"

"You are counselor? I thought you are a doctor, being in a sickbay... The biobeds should be all right now, but if you have something more to repair..."

"I am both actually, but mostly I work as a counselor. During emergencies like this I help out in medical. If you have time could you do a quick check of our equipment now that you are here?"

"Of course m... Gwen." Says Lela, still having difficulties with informal addressing. Then she began with diagnosis of all medical equipment Gwen brought or showed her. After several tenths minutes her work was over.

"That's all now... Hopefully I won't be needed here anymore nor will I visit this place from other reasons. Nothing personal" Says Lela with a smile.

"I totally understand. And I hope you want return here as a patient. We need people with your talent of fixing things. Thank you very much for being so quick and efficient, Lela."

"Three Down"

Lieutenant Jiiles – engineering officer (NPC – Written by Dru as always J)

Lieutenant (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell – engineering officer

& NPC's

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

Jiiles ran down the corridor to Main Engineering. The ship still rocked slightly in the aftermath of the hellbore, and what he guessed to be the fabled 'Star-Beasts', last impact. He couldn't believe the state the ship was in. Hull breaches all over the place, power down on several decks, life support on back up. It hade been a few hours since the rumour had spread to him, down in the recess of the Galaxy, that they were turning tail and running away. Part of him was relieved that they were getting out of the danger zone, but the other half knew that it wouldn't be too long till they were back in it again. And whatever time there was in-between they had to get the ship up and running just as if she was fresh out of space doc. And from what he could see through the blur of his sprint was that pretty much nothing had been fixed. In fact more things seemed to be blowing up!

As he ran a console over loaded in the corridor, raining a shower of sparks over him and his already singed uniform, confirming his previous observations ~Who the hell is running Engineering?~ he cursed. Brushing off the embers he continued his pace till he rounded the corner and in through the doors of Main Engineering.

Breathlessly he called out for Ella. When there was no reply he look up from his hunched stance and called out for Dhani… again nothing. The engineers in the room seemed transfixed on what they were doing, either that or still shell shocked. Looking up he noticed Naranda on the upper deck. Climbing up the ladder he shouted to get her attention, "Hey Nara, where the hell is the Chief?"

"Not here." Nara slapped the console in frustration at the same time her face snapped into an ahah expression as she pressed more buttons. Another alarm silenced.

Jiiles let out an aggravated sigh as he reached the top of the ladder. Straightening himself up he came up beside her, looking down over her shoulder at the console readouts, "And Dhani?" he asked tilting his head to one side in a quizzical manor as he watched her 'work'.

Nara moved away from the console to scan the wires below, "Not here either. Can I help you or should I list everyone not here?"

Jiiles would have raised an eyebrow, had he actually had one! Instead his right eye widened a fraction as he stared at the back of her head. "That wont be necessary." he replied curtly.

"I guess that means you have been running the 'show' for the last few hours?" he asked in a slightly sarcastic tone, ~That would explain a few things~ he added silently.

"Right. So can I help you?" She was growing a bit annoyed. He was an engineer. He knew what his job was. Why wasn't he doing it?

Jiiles huffed behind her ~I doubt it~ was his inner monologue. Rolling his eyes he shook his head. "I came down here to find out what was going on. The ship is a shambles and it needs to be ready for our next encounter." He mumbled distracted by the flickering lights on the console next to him. Kneeling down he pulled the panel to one side and peered inside, "Dam this thing is fried." he commented.

Rolling up his sleeves he reached inside and began to pull out the melted chips. "You got any idea where they are?" he questioned straining slightly as he yanked out a fused mass.

She continued working, "Yea, I figured it would be, which is why we're working hard on getting things fixed, so stop talking and..." She stopped realizing he was working on something. She ignored the last question. To be honest, she was too busy to realize where they went.

Jiiles huffed and glared at her once more before darting his head inside the open panel to see what he was working on. After a strenuous five minutes he rerouted the power, bypassing the mass that now lay at his feet. The console rebooted and flickered back to life, a satisfactory hum emanated from its core. Closing the panel back up, he called up a status of the ship, and cringed.

"What have you devoted to primary goals?" he asked over his shoulder.

Nara had moved to another console when he asked. She muttered angrily, quite understanding his feelings about her being in charge, "Oh I don't know. Getting primary systems back up. Life support is being worked on, pressure being stabilized. All those things that keep us alive. Oh and shields. Weapons too." She looked at him steel eyed then, "Stop asking questions and do the job I'm very sure you know to do."

Wo, wo, wo! Jiiles turned sharply on Nara, grabbing her arm and whipping her round to face him. "First off, don't take that tone with me, I outrank you for a dam start!" he said clipped, his blue eyes flamed as they burned into her. He was getting extremely fed up with junior officers taking out their frustrations of being thrust in command on him!

"If you have been left in charge of Engineering, then that's fine with me. But even the Captain speaks to me with more respect than you are showing me, and in turn I respect him for his rank, knowledge and the position he holds on this ship, and that respect travels all the way down the chain. It doesn't stop just because a young pup gets to hold the rains while the brass is out of the room. You got that?"

She yanked her arm from him, "Then let me do my job! Give suggestions if you feel need to, but don't be condescending. There's no time for it." She went back to the ladder and climbed down.

Jiiles followed her, he'll be dammed if this conversation was over just cause she chose to walk away!

Pulling her aside into a slightly darkened corner, after descending the ladder, he eyeballed her. "There is time, Nara. We have pulled out of the fighting to regroup. You need to gather your thoughts and send out parties to work on specific areas by order of priorities. Personally I would say main power, as I know some decks are down, followed by life support, as you said, and on to our defensive and offensive systems; weapons shields and so forth. As the one in command you need to take stock of what is working and what isn't, whose on what job, you need to know where everyone is….." he shook his head. What was the point? Ella and Dhani were probably going to be back from whatever they were fixing. Nara was still just another body like him. Letting go of her arm he pushed it slightly, not really intending to, but it was almost as if he dropped it in disgust.

Shaking his head once more he rolled his eyes and turned away from her.

To his left the main doors opened and Tae'ben, the Romulan engineer appeared looking quite fraught.

"You alright?" Jiiles asked side stepping him to give him room before the man just careered right into him.

The Romulan nodded, then just as quick shook his head, "Ella is in sick bay…it's serious. Her heart stopped…" he trailed off the shock still evident in his eyes.

Jiiles' eyes widened in disbelief, "What happened?" he asked, his expression matching Tae'bean's.

"She was electrocuted when the console shorted. I found her and took her down to sick bay. I couldn't stay… too much work to do." he mumbled beginning to move forward in a zombie like state.

Jiiles stopped him and glanced over to Nara his face was a picture of concern.

Nara's face was a bit more stern, a bit more serious.

Jiiles nodded and tapped his com badge, "Jiiles to Eshe?"

There was no response. Jiiles face contorted, he felt a pang in his gut. "Jiiles to Eshe?" he said again, praying that there was just a break down in the com relays for that second.

When there was no response for a second time that knot twisted inside him. "Computer locate Lieutenant Eshe." he commanded beginning to tremble.

=^= "Lieutenant Eshe is not on board." =^= the computer responded.

Jiiles stared at Nara, his face paled.

Nara pursed her lips, "I'll do as you suggested, but I've got to do it now."

Jiiles stared at Nara's lack of concern for her commanding officers. His brow furrowed as his fury raged. "Where did she go?" he demanded his eyes burning holes into the petite form of Naranda.

Nara sighed, "Deck 11. There was a hull breach. She also intended to go fix the power loss in decks 10 to 14." There was concern in her voice, but she had to keep that aside for now.

Jiiles eyes widened even more, "Naranda," he said coldly, "the emergency forcefields failed on deck 11. That entire section has been exposed to space for over an hour now. The power is still out on those decks…." he trailed off when he realized what he was saying. He felt a rising chill through his bones as his own words sunk in. His face fell, his hands began to tremble.

"Wings of Salvation" Part Two

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****

"Um... Thanks for the rescue then. What happened to the other guy, Keldan? Oh wait... You said there was four of us?"

Kala nodded.

"And they are all okay too?"

Kala winced, as if the question caused her pain. In fact it did. Unbeknown to the man before her, her twin sister lay in a bed not two down the row from his own. And she had not woken up yet. "You were all hurt pretty badly." she fudged the state the others were in. "You are the first one to wake up. But the others are stable." she added hopefully.

Steven shook his head at his stupidity. How could he be so forgetful. "Sorry, forgot to say, my name is Steven Jonas, Marine with the Galaxy's Furies Detachment."

Kala smiled, "I know, I already looked you up. Out of the four of you, you are the only one that I don't know." She cast an eye over the other beds looking for any signs of consciousness. "I met Michael McDowell on Trill earlier this year. He is a friend of my sister." she explained, "And Kel, over there," she nodded towards his bed, "is also a friend of hers, we went to the Academy together. Nishta, my sister, is just over there." She pointed but then waved her hand indicating for him not to look as she didn't want to aggravate his injuries.

"When I saw what was happening to the Galaxy I couldn't just sit back and hope that she was going to be okay. I had to intervene, and I am glad that I did, to hell with the consequences." she said quietly, more for her own benefit than his.

"Oh and I am Kala." she added quickly almost forgetting, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Chandrakala Eshe, serving on the T'Kengra as an exchange officer since the dominion war." she informed him with another flash of her pearly whites.

Steven nodded. "Nice to meet you Kala. I haven't met too many exchange officers during my time in the marines. And none with long firey red hair." He added with a smile.

"I like to stick out from the crowd." she replied with a flick or the aforementioned hair and a sly smile.

"You sure do." Steven muttered to himself, admiring everything about her. Even her Trill spots looked sexy. Though it did remind him of the fact that he was only a half-breed.

Kala arched a crimson eyebrow at him.

"Sorry, I was just saying to myself, that you sure do stick out in a crowd." he replied. "In a good way, I mean." he quickly added.

Kala grinned slightly lowering her head so her hair covered her mock bashful smile. "It's a twin thing," she explained, "when there are two of you in the galaxy that look identical, one of you has to find a way to stick out. Ya know, so when I go and do something heroic it doesn't get recorded in history under my sisters name!"

Steven smiled. "With hair like that, I doubt anyone would confuse the two..."

A groan from down the way gave Steven pause. It sounded like someone else might be waking up. He watched through sleepy eyes as the doctor, Mortan, if he recalled correctly, walked over to check up on the owner of the groan. Kala too, had turned to see who it was.

Standing over Dhanishta, Morton ran his tricorder over her abdomen where he had removed a very sharp piece of the Galaxy that had impaled her on her way off the ship. Satisfied that the internal bleeding had stopped he gave her a couple of quick shots to help stave off any infection and the slapped her face none to gently, it wasn't as satisfying as slapping the Trill who really annoyed him, but since she had the same face it was almost the same. "Wake up!" he ordered.

"Mortan!" Kala chided glaring at him. Although she couldn't help but watch in anticipation to see if his 'technique' actually worked!

Dhanishta's face contoured as the light penetrated her eyes. The smart from the slap seemed nothing in comparison to the pain the rest of her body was in. "A pleasure as always Moraton." she mumbled groggily as she opened her eyes.

Squinting up at him she allowed a small smile of greeting to flitter across her face before the grimace took over. She hadn't seen him in a while. Not that she really cared to. Mortan was notorious for being a grumpy ass; they didn't get on that well.

Kala stepped forward and took Dhani's hand, "You had me worried there." she confessed, her body now relaxing finally, the knot in her stomach dissipated. Only to be replaced with a worry-knot over the reprimand she was going to get from Qel and Starfleet.

"She will live," Mortan assured Kala, "assuming she does nothing stupid in the next few hours to make a liar of me," he muttered as he scanned her again, "I had to remove a large piece of the Galaxy from your gut woman, and I 'hate' repairing lower intestines, I always have bits left over. K'hest'n tubes.." He added in a dangerous tone which trailed of into incoherent mutterings, something about Trill physiology, women in general and annoying Trill women.

Dhani swallowed hard and nodded through the pain, "As long as you didn't take out anything important…" she trailed off wincing.

"Did you manage to save anyone else?" Dhani asked looking up at her sister expectantly.

Kala nodded, "Jonas is over there," she pointed, "he is awake. Keldan and Michael are still under."

Dhanishta frowned at the first name; it was not one she knew. Pushing herself up onto her elbows she peered across the medical bay.

Some minutes later it was Michael who woke up. He squinted at the bright light above his head. It felt like needles were pricking into his eyes. Breathing was difficult and he coughed hard a few times. Each time he winched from pain. It felt like his throat and lungs were burning from the inside. When he finally came to rest he noticed the few sprays of blood on the metallic bench he was laying on. As he tasted his own blood on his mouth he assumed it had to be his.

He turned around and just stared at the others, still feeling a bit fuzzy and distracted by his pain. He wondered how where he was and how he had got here. The last thing he remembered was feeling indescribable pain everywhere, not being able to breathe at all...no air..., mortal fear.

Ignoring the protests from her body, Dhani got up and slipped off the bed. Padding across the room she paused over Michaels bed. Smiling she took his hand, "Welcome back." she said gently, her eyes misting slightly as she looked at him, he was alive, she was alive; everything was going to be okay now.

But then the memory crept back of just what they had been saved from. She whipped round, winced with the pain that sudden movement had caused, "What happened to the Galaxy." she demanded staring at her sister intently.

"A good question." Keldan sat up on his table holding his forehead, looking particularly perturbed at Mortan's ministrations, but unable to get up. His legs and arms were numb, but he could still feel all his fingers and toes, however slightly. And it certainly felt good to be able to take a deep breath. His eyesight was hazy and his hearing muffled. His headache felt like the morning after a drinking spree.

All certain signs of overexposure to a vacuum. Feebly he wondered how long he had been floating in space before being picked up. Then he wondered how long it had been since the battle, and his thoughts immediately came back to the fate of the Galaxy and the fleet. From what he had seen through the hull breach, he knew the Trill's news would not be good.

Kala's eyes searched the faces in the room, her chest tightened, having just saved them all she knew that very soon their lives would once again bee on the brink of death. For a moment her gaze flowed to the window and the stars beyond. It was a difficult task to tell someone that a family member had been killed, when she was acting Chief Engineer on the T'Kengra during the Dominion war, she had to face that challenge more than once. But to tell someone that their fleet had been decimated, that they had lost the battle and what crippled ships remained, had fled…. well it was lucky that she was addressing her own flesh and blood and not a Klingon.

"Found a doctor!"

In the caves first aid station - takes place before the raid post with Man'darr

Dr. Mathieson

Branwen London

Branwen was overseeing the placement of everything in the new hospital place deep underground. She was getting to terms with her job slowly, still not thinking that she was the right person for it, but coping. Hopefully there would be real doctors here. People that could help her poor patients get better. Not just alleviate the pain.

The shadows of the main ward were deep as the filament of antiquated work lights flickered their weak light. Long rows of wounded and dying made the groans and wimpers of a dozen different races as each suffered the pains of their wounds. Bran looked over the patients - at least a hundred in this ward alone - and seemed to see a single figure in the semi-darkness of the far end of the chamber. Her suspicions were confirmed when the shadowy figure was slightly illuminated by the pale-green glow of a medi-scanner.

Branwen continued with her inspection. This place was gloomy, there were of course no windows underground and it didn't seem like her to be a good place for healing, but it was the best they had at the moment. She walked towards the strange figure in the cloak, he seemed to be looking after a patient.

The cloaked figure was speaking in a hoarse whisper - Federation Standard, but in an odd accent the Welshwoman had become familiar with on the Galaxy and planet Cheron.

"Cor, lad! Quite the blizzard to yer old noggin, eh? Let's take a peek an see if the ol' cerabellum's on th' up 'an up."

She recognized the voice straight away and relief watched through her.

"Doctor Mathieson!" She called out.

The short human turned quickly, startled by the Marine's words.

"Blimey - as I live an' breathe! Lieutenant London herself! Wot's a good lass like yerself doin' in such bad business?" A still sunburned Robert Mathieson cracked a grin at the sight of a familiar face, and a healthy one at that.

"Doctor!" She embraced him. "I am soooo glad to see you. A familiar face and a doctor! Have you been send to take over from me, finally! The colonel made me lead the hospital and I have no medical experience at all. It was awful."

The words spilled out.

"Awright, aright lass! Gerroff! Enough with th' mushy stuff!"

Either he was getting older than he wanted to admit or Starfleet was supplimenting the standard Marine ration with some kind of strengthening agent - she was squeezing the breath out of him! "Easy there, Lieutenant! Really - ye've done a bang-up job. Howd'ye manage?"

Mathieson smiled at the young woman's resoursefulness. "Well done.

Well - things're runnin pretty damn good givin' th' circumstances.

Let's not change a thing. Ye've got th' organizin' o' supplies an'

personnel to an art. I'l patch the wounded - you mind the shop.

Deal?"

"Oh no, sir. You are higher in rank and you are a doctor, you know much better how to do this. I am a marine and I should be returning to my duties.

I would like you to take over the running of the hospital." Bran protested.

"Look again, lass" Mathieson replied smoothly, offering the blue collar of this uniform. "This lonely lil' pip makes me a mere ensign, an' you the rankin' officer 'ere. But yer frettin' fer nothin'! Look about ye - ye've done a capital job with wot ye've been given, an'

it's bad luck t'be messin' wiv somethin' that works. I'll do th'

grunt work, you take care o' th' supplies - administration-like."

The old man omitted only one small detail of the proposition - Starfleet Medical form 65128-13211368. The last time the doctor had made an attempt at filling the document after occupation during the Federation-Cardassian war, he lost a pip from full Lieutenant to junior grade. Still, London was capable and energetic. She should be able to finish it off in about a week - assuming they lived so long.

"So - did Colonel Spoons and Major Peach-Fuzz give ye any idear when we'll be bugggin' out?

She gave him a questioning look. "Doctor?"

"Forkel an' Shaw" the old man grumbled. "Wound up tighter than a cheap watch. I'll wager a day at th' track they're new promotions th'

both of 'em - not that they're doin' too bad given wot they've got t'

work with. Either o' them give us any marching orders?"

"The colonel is allright, doc. And even the major is thawing. They have been looking after me really good. But I don't know what they are planning right now. I've been kind of abandoned here." She said with regret.

Mathieson nodded at the news. "Well, be better prepare fer th' worst.

I noticed the third Romulan on th' left's still bleedin' in his kidneys - I'll get t' work on 'im quick like, but we should be ready t' bug out at the drop of a hat. Think we can scrounge any o' yer Marine buddies t' lend a 'elpin' hand?"

"Just the heavy work. There is a shortage of doctors. I have been treating patients. Some of them died. Doctor I had no choice, there was nobody else, but I know I have made mistakes." This weighed very heavily on her conscience.

"An ye've done a capital job - jus' capital - an' don' let anybody tell yer otherwise." Mathieson paused, and gave Bran a long, appraising look. "Look - I'm not gonna sugar-coat what's happened 'ere. People have died lass - an' more are gonna. It's a fact o'

life in war." He was uncertain of the effect his words were having on the young marine, but thought that the truth was better than false words of comfort. "You can't stop it. I can't stop it. Nobody can.

All we can do wi' medicine is save those who can be saved, an' ease th' passin' o' those who can't - both to the best o' our ability.

Like ye said - there was nobody else. Is this yer first war?"

She nodded. "I just.... it is so hard trying to help people when I have no idea if I am doing the right thing. But thank you for your support."

"S'alright - nothin' but th' truth lass." The doctor gave the marine a supportive grip on the shoulder, then rose to his feet. "I've also got some bad truth fer Colonel Spoons once were done."

"Oh?" Bran was surprised.

The doctor grew quiet in the darkness, then let out a strained answer.

"Some... bad business. One o' our 'fine allies' decided 'e liked one o' the Miranda crew more 'n she liked 'im. T'Ashaya - the Miranda's marine biologist. Anyways, 'e didn't take 'no' fer an answer too well

- dropped me off like an ol' shoe e' did. Now the Vulcan lass's gone."

Mathieson looked at the floor for a moment before his head snapped upright. "Cor! Losin' me 'ead like an' old man! Is Baile on planet Bran?"

Branwen didn't really know what to say so she squeezed his arm for support.

"I have no idea where he is, I don't think so."

"Aye, that's me luck all over!" The wind had been taken from Mathieson's sails and it seemed like the old man shriveled as some form of hope had been squeezed from him. "Well, no use wishin' on false stars - best t' see how th' wounded 're shapin' up. Let's start rounds an' ye can show me wot's wot."

The doctor and marine started slowly walking down the long rows of of the injured, slowly blending into the shadows and the muted sounds of the wounded and dying. Above, beyond their sight and hearing, Romulus bent to the sting of the Hydran lash - and thousands were forced into the darkness.

"Unification" Part the third

Ensign T'Ashaya, Science Officer, USS Miranda
Senator Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae Centurion s'Velt t'Rennikh, Praetorian (NPC)
LtCol For'kel Arvellion - 101th CO, USS Miranda

T'Ashaya dreamed troubling dreams. Vulcans, in general, found both dreaming and remembering dreams a troubling thing. Dreams far too often defied logic, defied reason, defied rational explanation. More often, the logic, the rational explanation behind the things in dreams troubled the Vulcan in question more than the dream itself. Either way, she found the content of her dream disturbingly physical, for lack of a better euphemism.

Still half asleep, she stretched languidly, like a cat. Her eyes remained closed and she smiled, enjoying the sensation. It took her a moment to remember where she was, to remember her discipline. It took stretching far enough for her arms to ache from where they'd been bruised when she'd been roughly hauled down to Senator Aieme's private dungeon. Her smile snapped off like a light and she sat bolt upright as she opened her eyes.

She looked around the small warehouse where they had hidden themselves the evening before. Everyone seemed busy packing things up, preparing for travel. The did not seem to notice her slip in decorum and she breathed easier until she noticed Senator tr'Khnialmnae staring at her as if he knew the very contents of her dream. T'Ashaya looked away and blushed green clear to her ear tips.

She could hear her mother now. "You spend far too much time with your human companions and your discipline suffers for it." Now, of all times and places, T'Ashaya needed that discipline and she felt it failing her.

"You should have woken me to stand a watch," she admonished softly.

"You needed your sleep," the Senator reminded her just as softly.

"Watch is what the praetorians are for. They know their duties, they are trained for such situations. In a way it is in their nature, so to speak." He reached out, his hand lightly touching her chin, gently turning her face towards his. "You have no need to fear rapprochement; the praetorians care neither the one way nor the other, and I am of a breed apart even from my own society." There was an ageless quality to him this morning, subtly different from the day prior. "I know fear is an emotion, yet it is also a state of mind much as logic and Kolinahr. There is more to the mind and its states than even Vulcans have discerned." He then seemed to drift off in thought for a short period of time.

She did not move away from his touch. No, touch was the one thing T'Ashaya had felt most missing in her life. "The Kolinahr," she snorted lightly. "It seems it always comes to that. Less than ten percent even attempt that level of discipline. Yet it seems we must all hold ourselves to that standard."

As one of the praetorians turned to approach, their backpacks complete and all equipment stowed, Aehkhifv turned as if he had been paying attention the entire time. A nod was all he gave and then he stood, offering her his hand as any gentleman would when a lady wished to stand.

She hesitated. The Vulcan Tsunami lightly placed her hand in his, as if she thought his hand were made of porcelain. Her slender fingers lighted there one electric moment as she stood with practiced ease, then flew back to rest suant across her thigh.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her gaze shyly. A thousand girls across ch'Rihan practiced affecting such mannerisms with the hopes of winning the attentions of the right mate and on them it looked just that:

practiced and affected. On this woman, for whom the mannerism was natural, it made her seem even more winsome.

"There is no need for apology," he said, guiding her out of the labyrinthine mess of debris and rubble, "not between us. After all, to use a Terran phrase, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do.' You are currently a somewhat unwilling tenant of a planet upon which the guiding force that directs our day to day interactions is mnhei'sahe, the 'Ruling Passion.' " He smiled as they stepped out into the fresh morning sunlight. "While your ancestors shed their passions we embraced them and all that went with it, good and bad. You can't take the good without the bad." He paused here, considering his next words carefully before speaking again. "Forgive me if I trespass into private subjects: are you mated?"

"No." She blushed even greener. "My childhood bond mate chose another."

"Then he has missed a great opportunity, T'Ashaya. I am certain that there was some logic to his actions: Ambasador Sarek even said himself that 'it seemed the logical thing to do' when asked why he married Amanda," he commended as they took a left turn at the next intersection. "Do you know of the logic behind his decision?"

"He is gay," she replied, missing entirely the question that the Senator really posed: Why was it logical that Sarek chose Amanda, her namesake. The ice crept back into her voice. She turned attention to the disruptor in her grip. "And he is bonded to my brother. I see no logical point in pursuing this conversation."

"My humblest of apologies, T'Ashaya," he said, quite shocked. While such tendencies might be more commonly public amongst the Rihannsu, it was widely regarded in poor favor as with most any other culture one would encounter. "Even knowing you for as short a time as I have, I know that it was not your fault."

She remained silent for a long time as they walked. "You are overly polite to say so."

The Vulcan woman cocked her head. Her ears strained toward the sky.

She thought she heard patrols the night before, but she could not be certain. Now she had no doubt. "Do you hear that?"

It took several seconds before the Senator and his Praetorians heard the sound. It was the unmistakable rush of Hydran engines overhead.

The sound was distant, but quickly closing on their position. They sounded extremely low. Fighters, perhaps doing surveillance, or perhaps on a low altitude bombing run.

s'Velt held up a fist and the Praetorians halted, the senator taking his cue from her. The trio of craft passed overhead, their engines screaming in the atmosphere as they dodged buildings and antenna clusters before passing out of sight and hearing range. After a few minutes of no further activity, the group resumed their movement, though the Centurion cautioned that they should probably quicken their pace.

Not more than 2 minutes later, the city exploded behind them.

Photon bombs screeched out from the strafing fighters, pulses of energy spurting forth in deadly packets of brilliant entropy, all headed towards a singular location - the sensor spoofer one of the centurions had employed. The hydran fighters sensors "saw" a heavily armed squad of Praetorians, armed with all forms of weapons of various factions - things that would have been preposterous, had one pilot actually taken the care to examine the sensor readings before they had all been blown to smithereens.

Not to far away, the small group lay on the pavement covered in bits of debris and rubble, though not everyone came away unscathed: two Praetorians and the two individuals rescued from Aieme's dungeon were limp, the odd angles of their bodies and the pools of green blood forming underneath evidence of the close call they had been delivered.

Of the others, Aehkhifv had possibly suffered the most, if only because he had used himself to shield T'Ashaya from harm. Mostly minor lacerations, there were a few deeper wounds along his back. Due to the physical contact necessary for him to move her out of the way, namely pushing her to the ground with his body above hers, waves of pain crashed out from him towards her weakened mental barriers.

She could not tell what pain was her own and what was his. For that instant they were one. T'Ashaya arched under him, her body recoiling reflexively from pain it remembered even if she did not. She blinked from the pain, her hands, her knees, her back. She drew in her breath sharply.

"Aehkhifv." There was something in the way his name dropped from her lips. It was the call of a wounded dove seeking its mate. All other meaning fell away from the sound.

"I beg forgiveness," he said, his voice extremely rough, "I was more concerned for your personal safety." He had to pause as his dialogue was cut short by a coughing fit. "I did mention I have a relatively high esper rating, yes? If not, I apologize for my oversight."

Perhaps there was more to his trauma than previously thought.

"Do not speak of it, Aehkhifv. You must be still." She tenderly brushed the dirt from his face and wished she had a tricorder.

"You're hurt. We need to stop the bleeding and see to the extent of your wounds." She reached for his collar and for the first time in her life she regretted that she had not learned more of the physiology of her own species.

"It is no matter, my dear: we are not far now, and I can make it in my condition." With her assistance he got to his feet, though he had to lean on her for some support. "Atmospheric status, Centurion?"

s'Velt stowed her tricorder and turned about. "Ionized in a 500 meter radius. Sensors will be useless for the next hour," she reported.

Aehkhifv nodded and smiled. "That should be more than enough time.

200 meters down this road, a small shop .... "

45 minutes later, they found the shop he has mentioned, and much much more - at least half a dozen star fleet issue phaser rifles pointed in their direction. "Stand down, Centurion," the senator rasped to s'Velt. "These are friendlies."

Standing before the contingent of marines was a rag-tag quartet: two Praetorian, one a Centurion judging by the indications on her uniform collar, and what appeared to be two civilians: a woman supporting her male companion, obviously wounded if the deep emerald tint to his robes was any indication.

For'kel's eyes moved from the woman whom he could swear seemed familiar, to the group of Romulans. He'd been attacked by their supposed 'allies' on a couple of occasions, and therefore was hesitant to lower his rifle. "Where are you people going?"

The way the centurion looked to the civilians clearly dictated to the marines that the man was obviously in charge. "I am Senator tr'Khnialmnae, and we are looking for the entrance," he paused, coughing hard. When he next opened his mouth to talk, the green was evident, and he could taste the copper on his tongue. "I have been to the reunification underground in the vicinity on a previous occasion, we were seeking it out for shelter and security, and to formulate further plans of action. My companions are Ensign T'Ashaya from the Miranda, and two praetorians, Centurion t'Rennikh and anteCenturion tr'Halen, assigned to me personally by the Praetor prior to his departure to safety." Once again, he descended into a fit of coughs, more blood coming up this time than previously. "I believe I require aid," he commented, almost as an afterthought.

T'Ashaya dabbed at the corner of his mouth, concern evident on her face. "You most assuredly require aid, Aehkhifv. Aspirating blood in that quantity indicates that at least one of your lungs has been compromised. I may not be a physician for our species, but I do understand our physiology." She frowned. "You should not have hidden the extent of your wounds from me. We should have sent the others ahead."

"The praetorians would never have it my dear," he responded, the centurion nodding in solemn affirmation, "but you are correct on my injuries. Now, as we have given our names and intentions to you, would you be honorable enough to give us yours?" This last was directed to the marine that had spoken, Aehkhifv was discerning enough to know that at least with this particular unit, that man was their current leader.

"There You'll Be"

Ensign Faylin McAlister

Corporal Tahna Oram SFMC - USS Hood NPC (Written by Stu)

OCC: Two days before Fleet pulled out.

____________________________________________________________

The end of the cot rose somewhat as McAlister sat down gingerly on it.

Fresh from a shower, her hair dripped tiny drops of water on the green that was supporting her, causing it to turn a darker, ominous shade.

She missed him so much now. The scent of his essence haunted her day and night. In the midst of mission after mission, tending to wounded when she could, listening to their stories, he haunted her. He would not go away from her mind and heart. He was in the sky in her dreams, he was now embedded solidly in her heart, weather she wanted him to be or not. Looking upwards, she failed to notice the newly injured Marine that settled beside her on the next cot. She kept looking upwards, towards the sky. He was still safe, somewhere out there, on that large vessel called the Galaxy.

Time as it will, passes with Faylin McAlister cradled in its arms on the planet. The woman sat on her cot, missing someone more than she originally expected she would. It was not the Ambassador, it was Jonas. Rubbing her earlobe, she inwardly remembered the crystal starships that rested in the corner office, then the large NAVY flag that adorned part of the left side of her wall, desperately trying to squelch the ghost that haunted her. Steven and she were cut from the same cloth; they were in the 'corp', just different areas of it.

She had wondered what exactly what had happened. Had she fallen prey to a Marine? Knitting her eyebrows, Faylin circled the rim of her coffee cup with her index finger, lost deep in thought. Was she so difficult to get along with that a relationship, that it almost had eluded her with its presence? Why, with all that was going on in her life, did she feel the need to form a tight bond with another being?

Was it enough to be alone? There was a time where she thought it was enough. Now, something deep within her pushed her to make a choice.

She had never felt love for another person, other than Olivia and her parents. Yes, she had come close plenty of times…..however, what she thought could be love was just an intense lust. After the lust was squelched, she felt like she could just toss him aside. Faylin was done with him.

Not the case with the dashing young Marine. He caused her to second guess herself, her actions, her mannerisms, the way she responded to people. Enamored was the word that she found herself with. It was not right. Faylin McAlister could not be developing feelings for such a man as he was. He was cocky, way too confident, attractive, had a large mouth, big voice, and all the other things that spelled out one word. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Jonas had to know the power he held over her.

She was a puppet, controlled by the strings of his personality. One jolt and she moved this way. Another tug, she moved the opposite direction. She felt frustration fill her. Why him, of all people, did she have to go and develop feelings for?

Placing the cup down on the floor, Faylin buried her face in her hands, she sighed with contempt. Contempt for herself more than Steven. He couldn't help who is was…..and she couldn't help the developing feelings she had growing for him.

He came to her, every moment of most every day. Ordinary days that were filled with ordinary duties, were smeared by his face, comments, memories, and the smell of his cologne. That damn stuff! Two of the four pillows on her bed smelled like him. His essence stayed, long after he had departed from her bed. Nights spent without him appeared to be endless; the only thing that offered her comfort was the ghost of him next to her in the form of the faint smell on the pillows. She wished, she had one of those pillows to hug now…..to comfort her in the midst of the storm of war.

A decision had to be made. To be an idiot, or not to be an idiot.

That was the query that was posed. Should she admit her feelings to him as a fool, or keep her status as a philanderer? In her experience, once feelings were admitted the person became way too vulnerable. Bordering on obsessed about someone was a possibility.

Hell, she already was obsessed with him.

What made her want to stay with him? One little four letter word.

The word only made her recoil with rebellion and force emotions to the surface, exposing them for anyone that had a brain to see. She was not the type of woman to gush over a man. Far from it. The immaturity that displayed repulsed her. She repulsed herself.

Oram looked up from the cot, his broken arm bandaged and held in a sling, the top of his face covered in a bandage wrapped around his head. He had just had his injuries looked at and was relieved that they had managed to realign the bones in the arm given the rough circumstances that pervaded their present location. Much like the tyrany of the Cardassians on his home planet some years ago, the Hydrans were attempting to crush the Romulans with their overwhelming firepower.

The whole unit was wiped out, to a man. And he only survived due to a little blind luck, and a healthy dose of acting ability. As his eyes rose from the floor, he spotted a beautiful young woman sitting on the next cot. Her hair was slick as if she had just come from the shower, and yet depsite her downturned face, he thought he could see a few tears on her face. "Are you alright ma'am?" he called out softly.

"Support"

LtJG Chris Daniels

Ensign Janeen Jaxom

Janeen had to leave the operations center in the capable hands of others for the time being. Right now she needed some information from Tactical and the internal commlink to there from Ops was still on the fritz despite the excellent engineering crew of the Miranda.

The Trill woman took it upon herself to run to the CIC to gain the information she needed to complete some repairs and re-routings in Ops... not to mention checking on her current paramour.

The doors to the CIC swished open with an unusual, audible squeak.

Once she spotted Chris she made a beeline for his location. "Glad to see you're okay. I need to get a confirmation on some re-routing of some damaged datalines."

The girl behind him startled Chris out of his observation of the replacement of one of the sensor control stations. When he realized who it was, he had to resist the urge to hug her right there. Her tone had surprised him, as it seemed a little too...adult...compared to her typical playfulness.

"Hi, nice to see you too." He made his voice as dry as he could. He needed the entertainment. He had been holed up in the CIC for the better part of the day and was desperately in need of several essential things. Her comfort being one of them.

"Come over this way...all the comm and data techs are over there."

They walked about twenty feet to a gathering of techno-types who were busy scrambling around on their computers. He tapped one of the crewmen on the back and requested the data.

"Sir, all but one of the datalines is back online. The issue is from the line that links OPS, Tactical and the weapons stations together. That should be back up in the next 30 minutes or so. I can direct route that info to the Ops Center if needbe."

Chris looked over to his young companion. "Well, Ensign?"

"Great," Janeen said,."That will certainly help."

After that was done, he turned and motioned for her to follow him. A minute later, they were inside Chris' cubicle. Most of the CIC crew was up front working repairs or damage control elsewhere, so they had relative privacy. He took the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on her.

Chris let the stress drain out of him and he instantly looked more relaxed.

"You make it through that one OK?"

"Got a little cooked but I'm okay... for some reason we're having trouble with the fire supression system in the Ops center. We just about out of primary consoles ..." she went on a bit about battle related things when she realized Chris might have meant 'her'

personally.

He smirked. "Well, thanks for the damage report. However, I can get that off the network. I was wondering how the component known as Janeen was."

"Oh... yeah... I think I'm okay." Her face betrayed the stress she'd been feeling since being field promoted. "My brother said there'd be days like this," Janeen offered a weak smile.

Chris' face went back to being serious again. "He's right. I know what he means. I lost three of my kids today. First time I've lost someone." Tinges of anger--towards himself--began to show in his face.

"I'm sorry," Janeen looked at the floor while hearing the news. Some of her own people perished in the battle as well and naturally, it stilled weighed heavily on her mind. "I'm trying to get pictures of ... killed people out of my head myself. It's not easy. I'm *trying* not to..." she couldn't finish her statement.

"Unfortunately what they say is right..you can't dwell on it...just make sure that the bastards pay for the lives they took." He put his hand out and fixed a stray piece of her hair. He could feel the singeing on the bottom quarter of an inch. Chris could read something in her face...she looked uneasy, like the stress was about to break her. "Look, Janie, we've all been through the stress. It's kinda one of those rights of passage to becoming an officer--"

"Stress? You call this stress? This is 'far' worse than just regular stress! Regular stress I can handle! We're surrounded by death and destruction and you call it stress?" She was rambling on and couldn't stop herself. Tears started welling up in her eyes.

"Hey!" His face almost turned stern, like a father or a coach. He needed to get her attention, even if it was uncomfortable for her--and him for that matter. "You need to get it together and go back out there and be strong. If not for yourself, than for the guys and girls under your watch that are going to be looking to your leadership in a shitstorm. You break, they break, we all suffer for it. There's a reason the Captain and your brother trusted you with this promotion--they knew it would be hard, they knew there would be bumps, but if they didn't see the ability to get past this and do something amazing, they would've sent you back to the cushy life of a cadet in San Fran. Just don't start doubting yourself now, Janie. We're in the middle of a fledgling war with a dead Captain, someone very close to you in charge and a lot of scared enlisted troops. They need you to be a source of strength." ~And so do I.~ He thought as he took a breath after his mini-rant.

"I know what they need Chris... I just don't know if I have it to give right now," she threw hers arms around Daniels and squeezed hard.

"It's just that when you're the one in charge it doesn't seem there's any support for you... ya know?"

Chris drew back just an inch or two from her hug and nodded with a smile. "You're not the only one living it, kiddo. And don't worry...there's a lot of support for you out there. It's just not right there looking over your shoulder. You're going to be fine, Janeen. This is your first time...no one expects you to be perfect."

She wiped her eyes off and looked at Chris again, "Thanks." Inside though, she knew nothing short of perfection would allow them to survive the next battle.

"Realization"

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

Major Peter Shaw- SFMC

Executive Officer/Bravo Company CO

101st Battalion XO, USS Miranda

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

Pete woke up in a cold sweat and looked around. For a second he couldn't remember where he was or why he was there. Then it all came back to him like a lead brick. He was on Romulus. The fleet had just retreated, leaving him and the rest of the marines in this hell hole. Not to mention the billions of Romulan civilians and who knows how many downed fighter pilots. This was not he place he was supposed to die. Yet again, he had already died once. Back on Vulcan a year or so back.

He looked around again taking in the area. They where entrenched in a small location near the main city. The plan was in less then 24 hours to make a strike and free a few dozen POWs, mainly Starfleet officers and a few Romulan officials that hadn't made it off with the rest. But none of this is what had woken him up so quickly.

He could feel something missing... something missing on his Betaziod half. Something that had been there for as long as he could remember was now missing. Taken from him. Taken by the Hydrans. But what?

"Sir... are you okay?" He heard a voice behind him.

Pete turned to find one of the younger Privates of his Company. "No, I am fine Private. Return to your patrol."

"Aye sir," the marine replied with a salute before heading off.

Pete stood up. There was no way he was going to get any sleep now. Not with this nagging feeling. He walked out and looked across a small plaza. It was peaceful. If not for the fact of burning fires, the smell of smoke and craters everywhere one would think there was no war going on.

"Pete." For'kel gave a nod as he slid into the entrenchment. "The plans for the POW liberation have been finalized. We're going to need to call everyone still out there in for this one. I need three blocking forces established to ambush and pin down any Hydran forces that try and relieve the prison. We also need some diversionary attacks that I want to put you in charge of managing... here's all the details. Just keep your Marines as safe as possible, and skirmish with them. Don't stay long, just damage and kill what you can with a few shots before running."

Pete looked down at the updated plans. "They look good. Should be able to get in, get out before the Hydrans know what hits them. It will be nice to go on the offense for a change."

"From your lips to the Prophets' ears." For'kel nodded, rubbing his hands.

Pete looked over the intelligence some more. "Where did you get this? It's strangely complete."

"From one of the children I met on that Civil Service run." The Stagnorian sighed, knowing the next was going to be hard to swallow. "And courtesy of mister and misses Jii."

Pete snorted. "You know... I am not surprised. I really am not."

"Yeah, well..." For'kel snorted. "Sufficing to say after serving on the Miranda for many years, I no longer fear death. In fact, it would be rather surprising if anyone on this ship with officer's rank did die and 'stayed' death.

Abismally upsetting kind of surprise at that..." For'kel frowned, the sort of dead-pan, all business, devoid of actual emotion kind of frown that one always seemed to wear in war. "You all right?"

"I have a feeling, something bad. Something missing," Pete admitted to his friend and commander. "Something from my Betazaiod half is missing. Something that has always been there, for as long as I can remember. It's unsettling."

Ouch, that wasn't good to hear. "And you think it's your sister?"

"If it is Sarah, then I have something more to fight for. No longer is it to just survive, but revenge."

"To each their own." For'kel murmured as he started his way back towards the hide out. Turning towards Pete he spoke out more loudly. "We're moving out in twenty, pass the word."

"Those Left Behind"

Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum (NPC)

Transporter Operator

USS Miranda

(Guest Starring Jola)

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

Berilyn walked into their quarters and locked the door behind her. It had been a 'rough' day, putting it extremely mildly. She'd only just found out that her husband had been left behind... those that knew her well enough knew that she preferred, for her job's sake, to be blissfully ignorant of what the Marines were being deployed to do. She knew, objectively, she wouldn't be able to work if she was constantly worrying about things.

And now she was kicking herself. At least if she knew, she could have 'tried', unlikely to be successful as it was, to beam him back up as they withdrew.

Now, however, she'd broken down. There was nothing left to do to keep her busy, to keep her mind on a task, and fear had taken over. On a mantle in the living quarters sat one of dozens of pictures they'd taken over the years...

this one was courtesy of Captain Summers at their wedding.

Captain Summers was dead too. There was the perpetual reminder that if the Captain died, anyone could die to contend with.

Taking the picture, running her finger in a caress over the face of the man she'd pledged herself too, the Trill stumbled to a recliner, determined to get as 'much' out now, in the solitude of her quarter... their quarters, as she possibly could.

Iris had taken her own news with a certain amount of inward glee. Bill was stuck down on the planet, and let him rot there, for all she cared. But if Bill was stuck down there, then where was his CO? It didn't take much checking to learn that the Miranda's Marine commander had also been abandoned on Romulus. And that only made Iris think of poor Bery. What must she be going through? And pregnant to boot!

There was only one thing for it. Taking off for Bery's quarters as soon as her own shift ended, Iris rang the chime insistantly. She wasn't going anywhere until she saw her friend and made sure she was okay.

Were it not for the fact she was with child, Berilyn Suum-Arvelion would be 'quite' drunk by now. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your outlook, that wasn't an option. Everything seemed to remind her she was alone... the vacant empty humming of their quarters, the lack of touch or the sound of his voice. By now they were usually sitting down to dinner.

It was odd how exactly what you didn't notice when it was staring you in the face was the first thing you realized was missing.

Growing increasingly worried when Bery didn't answer, and verifying from the computer that she was indeed in her quarters, Iris tapped her comm badge.

"Conde to Suum-Arvelion."

Growing increasingly worried when Bery didn't answer, and verifying from the computer that she was indeed in her quarters, Iris tapped her comm badge.

"Conde to Suum."

Oh great... talking right now was 'exactly' what she wanted. Sighing, and reminding herself Iris was simply doing what she thought would help, Bery fought back the sobs, although there was no stopping the tears. "Go ahead Iris, what is it?"

"Open your door, girl!"

Damnit. "Computer, unlock door." Bery waited for the chirping response from the computer. "Try it now."

Iris stepped inside and, after a quick glance in the cabin to make sure Bery hadn't been taken over too much by the news, crossed the room to her friend.

Crouching down by her chair, she wrapped her arms around the Trill and gave her a warm hug, not bothering with any words for the moment.

Bery gave a slight, depressed chuckle. "Hello to you, too."

"I just heard. You okay?" Iris pulled back a little to scruitinize Bery's face. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine." Bery kissed Iris on the cheek and gave her another squeeze.

"I didn't even know until I got off duty."

Iris took up Bery's hand and held it warmly. "You know he'll be alright."

"Yeah, ofcourse." Bery feigned a smile. Fact of the matter was she knew no such thing, and couldn't wait to have him back in her arms. "He always is. I just wish he were here."

"I'm sure he's wishing the same thing, and giving the Hydrans hell because of it. He's a resourceful man. He won't be foolish and risk your loosing him."

Iris raised her free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Bery's ear.

"Not that we always have an option with regards to such things." Bery mumbled. "Why not get yourself something from the replicator? You can probably use the coffee I'm sure."

It was no easy battle trying to reign someone back from the edge of despair.

Coffee would certainly be necessary tonight. "Thanks. You sure you don't want anything?"

"I'm sure." Sometimes you didn't 'want' to be comfortable with things. For Bery, this was certainly one of those times. "Commander Jaxom must be going crazy... Erasmus is down there too."

"That tall woman?" Iris asked over her shoulder, only knowing the commander in passing. She took a moment to order herself a steaming mug of black coffee.

"Yeah." Bery chuckled again in memory. "She's rather quite nice when you get to know her. Any rumor yet about when we're heading back?"

"Too many to know which one's true," Iris sighed, curling up in the corner of the couch. "I've heard as soon as the repairs to the shields are done and as long as six months. If you want my opinion, I'd guess sooner rather than later. If what you say is true, that the Commander left someone back there, he must be itching to turn this ship around."

Bery nodded. Jaal would go after them as soon as he thought it feasible...

the man knew what honor was. "How about you? Leave anyone behind?"

"Just my rat of an ex, Bill. He can stay down there for as long as he likes."

"Maybe you should throw a party." Bery smiled more genuinely, appreciating the chance to finally think, and talk, about something else. "We all told you that man was no good."

Iris stuck out her tongue with a grin. "He was good in bed, how was I to know he was a bastard everywhere else?"

"Well when practically every other woman on the ship agrees with you that he was good in bed, that should've been your first hint." Snickering, the Trill stood up and replicated a tray of chocolate chip cookies. If they were going to chat, they might as well do it properly. "He's probably sleeping with every Romulan widow he can find at the moment."

"Hope he catches some horrific form of VD." Iris glowered. "The nerve of him... in my own bed!"

Offering some cookies, Bery found a seat on the sofa. "The more I hear about him, the luckier I feel."

"You found one of the good ones," Iris nodded, taking a cookie and dunking it in her coffee. "Everytime I look around there seem to be fewer and fewer left."

"You'll find one yet. You have plenty to offer." She munched on a cookie, thinking about things. "Just imagine how many available Marines will be returning when we pick them up?"

"A big, strong guy just aching for a woman's touch," Iris chuckled mischeviously. "You just let me know when you start beaming them back and I'll be there."

Bery laughed, clearing some tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You got it. I'm sure there will be plenty of leave time after this mission too."

"Oh, I can hope! I think I need about a month on Risa after this."

"Nice beaches, but a little on the warm side. Can't exactly say I don't love the drinks though." Bery winked, sitting back. "Yeah... he'll be okay. If he gets in trouble, hell he can use Bill as a human shield."

Iris laughed at that, glad to see Bery relaxing. "He's certainly big enough for the job. How's the babe doing?" The Terran nodded at Bery's rotund belly.

Bery placed her hand over the bulge, smiling happily at memories of much happier moments, and a future that seemed bright, even if uncertain. "So far so good. Only a couple of months left to go. He's even kicking..." Taking Iris'

hand, she guided her to the spot that seemed to receive the greatest number of impacts.

It didn't take long for Iris to feel the kick and her hand nearly jerked back in surprise. "Good grief! He's going to be just as strong as his father. How do you ever sleep?"

"On my back." Bery smirked, working her way through another cookie. "And with a good deal of interruptions. I feel sorry for the universe... his father's strength and his mother's stubborness. That's not a good combination!"

Iris smirked. "Feel sorry for him. That stubborn streak will only get him into trouble."

"Nothing he won't be able to handle I'm sure." Bery nudged Iris teasingly.

"Certainly couldn't turn out any worse than you did."

"Oh I wouldn't wish my personality on anybody," Iris nudged back. "I know I'm too blunt for my own good sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Bery raised an eyebrow.

Iris stuck out her tongue again before grabbing another cookie. "Some friend you are."

"Hey, I guarantee you have no need for enemies." Bery chuckled, followed by a long sigh. "Do you... really... think they'll be okay?"

Now was the time to lie with a smile. Setting down her mug, Iris shifted position to wrap an arm around Bery's shoulders. "Of course they will be. They've got For'kel to lead them, they're expereinced, and they've got the Romulans on their side for once - and we know just how stubborn they are as fighters. They won't give up their homeworld easily. They'll make it."

It made it believable coming from someone else... although the worry was far from placated. Leaning up against Iris, Bery smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Anytime, honey." Iris gave her a small squeeze and a reassuring smile.

"Homeric Verse"

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

Cantina, USS Miranda

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

The former Starfleet captain-turned-bartender began his lesson with a question of his own. "Tell me Mister K'aa - what have you read of the events prior to the Andromedan Invasion?"

"The General War? Only hissstorical text from the Academy... and what my own people sssay about it." K'aa leaned forward on the bar stool as Joran delved for more broken glass. "The Ssstarfleet text was more technical - the Gorn saga of the Invasssion readsss more like the Terran 'Iliad'. It concernsss itssself more with the deedsss and honor of heroesss than the tactical ability to wage war."

"You shoudn't dismiss good literature" Joral said as he stood up, broken bottle in hand. "Chauteauneuf du Pape 2066. My last. Doubt there's any more to be had." The dust-covered glass noisily joined the rest of the debris as the El-Aurian let out a sigh. "That was a

*very* good year. Ever indulge Mister K'aa?"

K'aa narrowed his yellow eyes, giving the slightest hint of impatience. "No. Human vintagesss, while varied, tassste like sour grape juice, and have the sssame effect. Now, the General War?"

~Persistent. I'll give him that.~ "Who did the Gorn face during the General War?"

The reptilian sat back on the barstool, which groaned with the movement. "Who *didn't* we face? Klingonsss. Lyranss. Orionsss.

Ironically, our principal foesss were the Rihansssu - both plassssma-basssed weaponry. It makessss for sssome interesssting reading, but harly pertenant now."

Joran simply offered the reptilian a slow, patient grin. "I think you'll find that with the Hydrans, everything - especially the past - is pertinent."

"Hrssss... care to be a little lessss cryptic?"

"Not really - I'm enjoying this far too much."

K'aa's nostrils flared and he let out an impatient snort, but he remained seated. "Very well. Hydransss. They faced Klingonsss, Lyransss, Rihansssu - the sssame as ussss and... no. The sssame asss the Federation and the Gorn, but lacking in any formal alliance. They sssuffered tremendousssly under the Klingon yoke - much like the Rihansssu are suffering now. Their homeworld conquered, their Royal line decimated. Only the Outer Coloniesss were sssspared becaussse of their remotenesss." He peered at the still grinning Joran. "Am I misssing sssomething?"

"Why did they suffer so much?"

"The fractured nature of their society" the Gorn suggested. "A Byzantine administration and monarchy, a divided religion, colonies in friction with their homeworld." A shift in weight produced the loudest creak from the bar stool, and it was enough for the saurian.

Faster than his bulk would suggest, he rose and tore the stool from its brass housings in the deck, finally tossing the seat in the corner with much of the other wreckage in the Cantina.

"Feel better?"

"Sssurprisingly ssso - and it needed replacing anywaysss", K'aa replied slowing his breathing from his efforts. "The passst few daysss have been... more than a little frusstrating." He took several large lungfuls of air and held his gaze at the Cantina's tiled ceiling. "Alright, asss I wasss sssaying. Fractured. More so than the Federation. Hrsssssrrrr... more sssso than the Gorn. Otherwissse their technology wasss equal to, or sssuperior than their enemiesss.

Hydran engineering isss ssspectacular, and the effectivenesss of the Hellbore, Fusssion Canon and fighter complement was announced quite loudly a few hoursss ago."

Joran scooped out more broken bottles from behind the bar.

"Glenfiddich 50 year old. The Admiral's going to be pissed."

"More pissed than hissss favorite ship being defeated and half her crew being left on an occupied ch'Rihan?" K'aa asked.

The broken bottle of Highland whisky crashed with the others.

"Touche. So, what's changed?"

K'aa leaned against the bar and closed his eyes in concentration. He remained absolutely motionless for minutes as Joran cleaned piles of

broken glass, crystal and pottery. ~Economics? Leadership?

Technology?~ The reptile's mind raced through possibilities gleaned

from scraps of knowledge squeezed from half-a-dozen different cultures. Finally, the large yellow eyes opened and their nititating membranes flickered once.

"Control and alliesss", he said at last. "Alliess - sssomething the normally independent Hydran culture usssually abhorred. Central control of government with sssufficient motivation for the coloniesss to follow suit, and to presss for the acceptence of new alliesss."

Joran placed the last of the broken bottles - a restricted bottle of Romulan Ale he had been keeping for special occasions. "And what defining characteristic would the new power-base need to accomplish these feats?"

Nodding, the Gorn offered Joran the only definition that would apply.

"One capable of miraclesss, of courssse." He wiped the scales over his eyes as the weight of his conclusion hit him.

Control.

Allies.

Miracles.

As Joran saw the Lieutenant begin to ponder the new prospects, he had to admit the big reptile was sharper than he had given him credit for.

He thought of the Gorn tradition of heroic poetry for records of recent historic fact, as well as K'aa's comments of the Iliad.

~Interesting choice. I wonder what sacrifices our Mister K'aa's willing to make to gain the favor of the gods.~

"Something is not right ... "

Doctor Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Ella Grey, Chief Engineer
Nurse Arietty

* * *

Main Sickbay - USS Galaxy

* * *

White light, bright and hot. Stinging and sharp.

Ella groaned slightly, then closed her eyes, and waited a minute before she tried the world again. "Doc...doctor?"

Amidst all the confusion, the comings the goings and the dying in Sickbay the faint voice wasn't heard initially, it wasn't long however before the nurse assigned to watch over this particular group of patients walked over to Ella and picked up the PADD on her gurney.

Checking the monitors were operational and recording she noted the increase in her pulse and respiration, pausing a moment at her side she gently tapped Ella on the shoulder, "Lieutenant?" she asked, "can you hear me?"

"Yes." Ella said.

Tapping her comm badge, "Arrietty to Doctor Burton, Lieutenant Grey seems to be coming around Sir."

=/\= One moment, I'll be there as soon as I can. =/\= Burton replied, sounding a little distracted.

"The Doctor will be here in a moment Lieutenant, can you tell me how you feel?" she asked, willing Burton to hurry up.

"Not sure." The engineer replied, trying to take note of the damage without moving too much. She felt tired, sore, and there was definitely some form of medication in her body.

And.... something else.

"Do you remember what happened in Engineering?"

"Something ... exploded to my right. Then I couldn't move." Ella frowned down at her hands. "Was I burnt?"

"Only singed, but you took a bit of a jolt that worried us for a while. The young Romulan lad in Engineering had to bring you up here when you collapsed. It gave you quite a shock, we're just keeping an eye on you as it may have caused a little bit of trouble with your heart," Arietty said, trying to downplay the fact that she'd had a full blown cardiac arrest, "the doctor just wants to monitor you for a while.

"My heart?" There was something amusing in having a damaged heart from something other than men troubles. Ella might have even laughed if she wasn't convinced that there was something else wrong with her. She wiggled her toes and then shifted her legs a bit.

Hmmm, she thought. Nothing wrong there. So what was it? "Is it... do I need a new one?"

Smiling reassuringly, "I don't think so, but Doctor Burton will be able to bring you up to speed on exactly what happened. You're going to be fine though."

"Hmmm." Ella commented distractedly.

Looking around Arietty saw Burton, still dressed in surgical red's walking in her direction. Offering her the PADD once she was close enough she smiled at Ella and moved aside and onto her next patient, leaving the two alone.

"Nice to see you awake," Kimberly said with a small smile as she quickly scanned the PADD. Looking at Ella she reached up and pulled off the red cap wearily, "You had us worried for a while there, but so far you seem to be recovering nicely. Any pains or aches you want to mention?" she asked.

Ella frowned. "My chest is a bit sore."

"Not surprising, considering what happened. You had a bit of an electrical shock," she informed Ella, "and it stopped your heart, we had to do CPR for a bit there, but the soreness will pass," she promised with a smile, "good news though is that you're alive, and are likely to remain that way for quite a while," smiling reassuringly, "Unless you do something crazy again like trying to earth yourself again." Looking a little more serious she perched on the edge of a stool and tried to relax for a moment, "we do want to monitor you for a while, just to make sure there's no damage done."

"Damage?" That one word was significant but once again she couldn't figure out why.

She should probably ask them to cut back on whatever they had given her.

"Damage to the heart can be subtle, we did pick up a faint murmur after we resuscitated you but that might simply have been a bit of an erratic rhythm due to the defibrillation. If anything comes of it we'll discuss what it means at that point, okay?"

The engineer nodded. She didn't want to worry about replacing her heart if she didn't have to either. But still ... "Is there something else wrong with me, Doctor?"

Debating for a moment, a very short and almost unnoticeable moment Kimberly shrugged mentally, "Well, aside from a few bumps, bruises and minor burns there is one thing. Your vocal synthesiser," indicating to Ella's throat, "was also damaged during the, incident in Engineering.

We haven't had time to repair it yet, but so far, I don't see any rush," she added with a raised eyebrow.

"My ..." Ella began and then stopped cold as she realized what she had slowly been noticing. Just under the mechanical sound her implant produced when she spoke there was another sound that could almost be heard. It was faint, mostly indistinguishable, besides the fact that it sounded human and female.

Ella felt her lips clamp shut.

"Lieutenant?" Kimberly asked with a trace of confusion, trying to recall Ella's file she found her curiosity piqued as she recalled the Lieutenant's strange aversion to using her own voice.

Ella gestured for a computer PADD.

Simply raising an eyebrow curiously Kimberly passed the requested device over.

"I'll let you know if I start to feel any pain." The engineer calmly typed and then handed the PADD back to Burton and closed her eyes again.

"Without a Prayer"

By

Commander Taloras
Commanding Officer
I.R.W. Mahak

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

"To all ships, this is Riov Taloras Xaniidor Kilyle of the Imperial Rihannsu Warbird Mahak. As of 1 day ago, all direct contact with the Home Worlds has ceased. By the tradition of our ancestors dating back to the Sundering, we will discuss the ramifications of this event in common. Any may speak their mind, regardless of rank or social standing."

Taloras glanced sideways at her XO, who gave her a silent nod.

"We may now begin."

She sat down.

For a long moment, no one said anything, until-

"How did this begin?"

She looked up at the main screen. It was divided in to 10 different sections, with each showing the bridge of a different warbird.

One of the sections was dominated by a severe-looking woman on the cramped bridge of a Kestrel-clas destroyer. "Well?" she asked.

Taloras sighed. "Before we lost contact, we registered over half of the home defense fleet destroyed or crippled. Hydran ground forces are now subduing ch'Rihan relatively unmolested."

She looked down at a PADD before continuing. "Long-range sensors indicate what allied forces that survived have withdrawn to the Phoenicius system. The last orders we received were for planetary governors to maintain system defences, and for border patrols-us-to continue with previous directives."

A young sub-commander scoffed. "'Previous directives'? Do they expect us to sit idly by while aliens march unopposed through the streets of Ki Baratan?"

"That is beside the point!" One of the older commanders interrupted. "Even if we were ordered back, 11 small or outdated warbirds have not the firepower to overcome the Hydran fleet, never mind the Ahlhvnau ch'Stelam-a."

"Riov Viaen is right." Another, commander of the Jenyu, offered. "We cannot hope to successfully engage the Hydrans at this time."

"Then what do we do?"

"We have to fight!" Sub-commander Vaihen roared. "We will not be known as the race that rolled over and gave up for the Hydrans!"

"Our orders were issued for a reason, Erei'Riov." Taloras cautioned. "Only fools and Klingons would would rush to death so quickly."

"Riov Taloras should lead us." one of them said suddenly.

Taloras blinked. "What?"

The figures on screen all nodded.

"One of us must take command in order to keep order." Sub-commander Hwersuil said. "It is your right, by virtue of both rank and mnhei'sahe."

"We offer our support." Commander Jhalai of the Thraex added quietly.

Taloras managed a faint smile. "Thank you."

The other ship-commanders looked expectantly at her, waiting for direction. "We will follow orders." She said finally.

A few of the commanders on-screen frowned, but said nothing.

Sub-commander Vaihen was not so docile. "That's it? You're prostrating the last remnants of the Rihannsu Star Empire before these squids?"

The others winced at his blatant display of disrespect, but Taloras merely gave a small grin. "Hardly. I'm ensuring what remains of the Rihannsu Navy will live to fight another day."

"Besides," she said, "I didn't say we were going to do nothing."

Vaihen looked simultaneously incredulous and sour, but the others leaned forward in their chairs, keenly interested.

"I request the aid of two volunteer warbirds. One of which will warp to ch'Rihan, under cloak, and forward detailed sensor telemetry to us and the Federation. The other will journey to the Phoenecius system and attempt to make contact with whatever remains of the defense fleet and the Senate-in-exile."

At "exile", many of the commanders scowled, while some just shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I will not lie to you," Taloras continued gravely, "Both missions entail a considerable amount of risk. Those who do not wish to go will, in my eyes, keep their honour intact."

Another pause.

"Will no one do this?"

One of the younger commanders abruptly stood up on-screen. "Riov Raidek of the warbird Picard offers her services for the glory of the Star Empire."

The other commanders smiled warmly.

"Erei'Riov Keirianh of the warbird Jenyu also offers his services for the glory of the Star Empire."

"Thank you." Taloras said. "The Jenyu, being a refitted Hatham-class frigate, is ideally suited to stealth duties based on its small sensor profile and high evasive capabilities. Erei'Riov Keirianh will head operations over ch'Rihan."

Keirianh nodded.

"Riov Raidek, your Nierrh will make the journey to the fleet quickly, and if they go in to battle soon, it can serve the same function as the Starfleet Defiant-class war destroyer. Let us hope," she said with a grin, "that their battle-weary souls are hertened by your vessel's namesake."

Raidek smiled. "Indeed, Riov."

"You have your commands." Taloras said. "Depart immediately; the rest of us will keep patrolling the borders as per orders."

She paused, wanting to say more, but couldn't think of anything else. "Jolan'tru."

"Jolan'tru."

The main screen darkened.

"What did we just do?" her XO said.

"The right thing. I hope."

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

OOC: Ahlhvnau ch'Stelam-a: Literally, "Wild Beast of the Stars"

OOC Note - these logs span the week following the withdrawal. It's now been seven days since Romulus fell to the Hydrans, and the fleet retreated to Phoenecius. - Pat

COMMAND

Captain's Log, USS Galaxy Supplemental Stardate 60316.4

A political leader on Earth once wrote in the midst of a war: "These are the times that try men's souls." His war was both larger and smaller than the one that I have inherited here, among stars that were not known to the people of his time. It was larger, because it encompassed the whole of his world from end to end; and smaller because it only encompassed that one, small world. This war is as large as the one fought against the Dominion in scope, because, as then, the future of the Federation rests on the outcome. Will we fail to meet the challenge and become more dust to sift through the turning wheels that drive the universe, or will we meet it, over come it, and take another step towards the future that those who created our Federation dreamt of as they wrote her charter?

I don't know; Allah – wisely, I think – has not chosen to give me the gift of prophecy that I might know. Lacking that, I must depend on faith in Him, on the men and women that stand with me, and on the words that wiser men than I have written.

John Milton, in his Paradise Lost said: "Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit that fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair. "

I may not have fought in Heaven, but I will not allow despair at the loss of friends both old and new, and so many good men and women that I will never have the privilege to know to stop me. I will, as Milton's angel did, turn my loss and sorrow into fuel to drive me on.

A man of peace, Mahatma Gandhi, wrote something that applied to his struggle, but apples to this one as well: "When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won.

There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS."

Gandhi's words were not meant to condone war, but here, in this place and at this time, they offer what we need to win the war we are fighting. I just have to ensure that the others understand and believe that we can win, that all is not lost, and we can meet any challenge.

I miss you, June. This would be easier if you were here to tell me that I can do this… but I rejoice that you and our daughter are not here, are beyond this.

M'Kantu out.

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

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom,

Acting Captain's Log, USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4

After arriving back from the Galaxy, Jaal headed for the ready room.

He walked over to the desk and started reading the lastest. There were already updated status reports from the various departments. Repairs to the ship were coming along and the wounded were healing, science and tactical were busy studying data on the starbeast and making plans for its defeat.

Standing in front of the desk he looked up at the empty chair inhaling deeply. 'Why did it always look so much bigger when it was your butt that had to be in it?' the commander silently asked himself.

Outright war was had been the farthest thing on his mind for so many years. All the years since the Dominion War ended, in fact, were relatively peaceful. Now all of a sudden the Hydrans get a hard on for the Federation.

Jaal shook his head.

He believed the Hydrans weren't working alone especially since the Battle of Havras happened. Many nights he'd been up with Jii talking about galactic politics and trying to guess the possibilities.

No more guessing now.

Then, to throw more gas on the fire, Summers' daughter was coming to serve on the Miranda. It was a double edged sword as far as Jaxom was concerned. She was a top-notch officer to be sure, but she wanted revenge in a bad way for what happened to her father.

Of course, there was no blaming her for that but could Jaal trust her to follow orders if they weren't in line with her bloodlust? What if the retreat order was given again? Would she listen? Or would she press on to the detrimate of the rest of the ship?

What about Erastus? Was she alright? Dead? Captured? He heart sank when he thought of all the things that could be happening on Romulus right now. A vengeful feeling arose in him that he knew he had to control. It was getting worse the more he thought about his lover but he couldn't afford to lose control now.

Jaal took a deep breath again and walked over to the window. Outside the fleet could be seen floating in space. Then he looked in the direction he supposed ch'Rihan would be. "We'll be back."

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

"Captain's log, USS Exeter Stardate 60316.4. Following the meeting of the fleet captains aboard the Galaxy, it appears that the Exeter was not the only ship to sustain significant damage during the battle at Romulus. Aside from several ships that were destroyed outright, many others are in the process of being repaired to return them to battle readiness per Captain M'Kantu's order. I do not look forward to another encounter with the Hydrans, but that is ultimately why we are here in the first place. I only hope the ship and crew will be ready in every sense.

"Our own repairs are well underway, thanks to the assistance of several experienced officers from the Galaxy and the Miranda. I am confident that we now have sufficient expertise to cover the losses we sustained in Tactical and Helm, and to augment our short-staffed crews in Engineering, Medical and Ops.

"I still sense tension between me and Lieutenant Mullen, who is now acting as the Exeter's first officer. The heavy casualties among the crew and the influx of officers from other ships -- including and most particularly me -- have required adjustments from everyone, but I think Lieutenant Mullen is having an especially difficult time accommodating the new dynamics within the Exeter's senior officers. At present, I don't have time to address the situation with him, though I suspect it is ultimately inevitable."

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

Captain's Log, USS London Stardate 60316.4. The London is with the Fleet in the Phoenicius System, having abandoned ch'Rihan to the Hydran Fleet. In someways, I can't say I'm sorry to see the fall of Romulus. The Star Empire have plagued the Federation, and Earth in particular, since we first made our strides into space in the 22nd Century. But at the same time, we've given the Hydrans a staging area.

And I'd rather have a stable Romulan ruled Romulus than the Hydrans.

Whilst I'm hoping that we get the oppotunity to fight back, and liberate Romulus, I can't help this enormous sense of failure. My first assignment in Command, and I lose a planet. I lose good people.

Lots of good people. Commander Mellor was one of the first casualties.

Doctor Carrington did all she could, but unfortunately we lost him.

I've appointed Ileen as my Acting XO in the mean time, so we'll see how that goes. She tells me Engineering will get us back up to spec soon enough, which is fortunate.

Leaving 'Commander Mo'Bar on ch'Rihan wouldn't have been my first choice, but something tells me his Hazard Team will still be there if we ever get back into the fold."

Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer USS London

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

XO's Log, USS Hood Stardate 60316.4.

Lt. Commander Rachel Summers, recording.

"I'm not really sure if I have to keep recording this log, technically."

"After all, the Hood isn't anything more that dust orbiting Romulus, now, along with Captain DeSoto and too many members of her crew to count. Those of us who survived are scattered amongst the task force, with many of us aboard the Miranda, along with the surivors from the Concorde. We're helping fill the holes in the roster. Captain Reynolds was made CAG for the fleet, which she's coordinating from CIC. I'm serving as her tactical advisor, working with the Gorn - Lieutenant K'aa. "

"Suits me fine, right now. I can't let go of the fact that my father's dead - and now I have to stay on his ship. I'm getting tired of the double takes when I introduce myself."

"But that's not the worst. It's the sympathies. The condolences. I know they mean well - he was their Captain, he meant a lot to them.

But for God's sake, he was my father."

"I sound like a horrible bitch for feeling selfish about that, but somehow I can't bring myself to care."

"It's rediculous, I know. I'm a grown woman, a successfull officer - hell, a successful command officer - but at the end of the day, right now, with everything that went down at Romulus, I really just want Dad to give me a hug and tell me it'll all work out. "

"Turns out you don't get comfort from a corpse. I get it now, what Mom was afraid of all these years."

"Somehow I don't think she's going to enjoy being right."

"End log."

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

C-in-C's Log, Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, recording.

"I dinna know how much more of this nonsense I can take."

"Twenty minutes ago, The Security Council adjourned so they could reveiw the battle reports. Like it matters! Good men and women died because we didn't send enough ships to fulfill our promises."

"It's as simple as that, and damned if I can make 'em see it. We made a promise. We told the Romulans we'd help defend them. The first real progress with them - the first real steps towards rapproachment, and it's all about to be undone by fear."

"Bloody fools."

"I find myself placin all my hopes in Nan Bacco. The President's a tough bird - an more'n that, she's that rarest of all creatures: An honest, intelligent politician. She gets 'em to make the right call, and I'll throw so many ships at the Hydrans that it'll make the bloody stars themselves shake."

"I owe Chris Summers, Bob DeSoto, and Marg Vogler no less'n that. And every other lad and lass in the uniform that died over that damn planet."

"End log."

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

TACTICAL

Personal Log, Stardate 60316.4

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda

I remember a ssstatement from one of my inssstructorssss on Sssgarnon Prime concerning humansss. "Humanity, dessspite their many ressspectable accomplishmentsss, are a frail ssspeciesss". I have consssidered the ssstatement many timessss over the yearsss, and while physssically mossst humansss are very much on the fragile ssside, at their bessst they have a tenacity many other ssspeciess may envy.

The concept of frailty came to mind when I reached the bridge after the Battle of Romulusss and Medical wasss attending to the body of Captain Sssummersss. When he firssst came on board, my gut warmed at the concept of ssserving with the man - naturally I had ssstudued his carreer quite thoroughly. His career was a large volume of commands issued from a ssstarship too ssmall and underpowered for the role it wasss required to play - but he and the Anchorage proved that ssskill, daring and courage made a captain, not firepower, or shields, or armor.

What he, that crew, and that small frigate accomplissshed defied imagination... and continuesss to inssspire it.

While I ressspected the man asss a leader, a warrior and an explorer - I'll confesss to even being a little awesstruck - I mussst be honessst in my appraisssal of him; the Captain who asssumed command of the Miranda wasss not the sssame who commanded the Anchorage for ssso long and ssso well. Certainly there were flashesss of that brilliance - the handling of the Bajoran/Cardasssian sssituation in the Delta Quadrant for inssstance - but mixed with unwissse decisssions. The sssame misssion sssaw too many sssenior officersss leave the Miranda at a time when we needed to prepare for the Borg.

It continuesss to assstound me how lucky we were on that day, but perhapsss luck too isss part of what made Chrissstopher Ssssummersss great... until it ran out.

Luck, asss humansss are prone to sssay, issss a fickle missstisss and it seemsss she bearsss the Miranda no love - Ssssummersss wasss not the only Captain to feel the cold wrath of her scorn. As they lift the Captain'sss corpse from the deck to a gurney, I'm reminded of another death and another Captain.

Ssssomewhere in Federation ssspace, a dessspondent Elaithin Jii wallowsss in the misssery of hisss own wretchednesss... largely at my own hand. My new posssition as the ACTO on Miranda hasss given me sssecurity accesss enough to sate my curiousssitiess, regardlesss of their morbid nature. Substantial evidence and intel hasss Miranda'sss previousss massster a drunkard on sssome backwater world on the outer rim of the Alpha Quadrant, hisss own children abandoned with his wife'sss elderly parentsss - one of whom hasss passsed away.

What bringsss a man to sssuch extremesss? What drivesss him to ssself dessstruction in the mossst shamelesss way posssible? Thessse are rhetorical quessstionsss, of coursssse - Death... and Love.

Old friendsss both, and bitter enemiesss...

The mossst painful thing I have experienced in my life hasss not been physssical injury or trauma - I have the scarsss to bear witnesss to thossse memoriesss. What burns hotter tha the mossst well-fired brand isss the shame I have endured over what happened with the Indefatigatable. Each death I wasss resssponssible for I clearly remember, each name, each face, each... ssscream... will never leave me. Yet the one death that oddly bearsss the mossst pain isss the one I wasss comatossse during - the death of Colonel Jordan Elaithan.

Of this wound I bear, the scar that had healed - at least a little - was viciousssly ripped open when my curiousssity lead me to review the Colonel'sss autopsssy file. Even Doctor D'Bari was shadesss lighter than her usssual attractive ssshade of emerald when she wasss performing the tasssk, and underssstandibly ssso. The remainsss bore the effectsss of radiation from the pulsssar she rammed the Indefatigatable into - her tisssue absssorbed almossst 20,000 röntgen equivalent'sss of radiation. A messy, agonizing death - one that I am largely... no... entirely resssponsssible for.

While Death'sss pain isss hurtful enough, coupled with Love it bearsss the force to drive heros dessspair, and lessser creaturesss to madnesss. I wasss comatossse for two weeksss after the Indefatigatable incident, yet each whisssper, each veiled accusssation from each crewman formed a sssolid tapessstry of eventsss. Each reflection of Elaithin Jii'sss overwhelming grief from the sssenior officersss closssessst to him wasss a handful of sssalt thrussst into the gaping wound of my sssoul.

Time hasss not healed it asss I had hoped it would.

Perhapsss it never will.

I held the turbolift to allow the orderliesss room enough to allow the Captain'sss remainsss dignity assss he left the bridge for the lassst time, but sssome clod of a crewman managed to jolt the gurney againssst the lift'sss door - one of Sssummersss' handsss fallss from underneath the body'sss shroud. He wisssely recoiled assss I growled a warning-to-the-weak, and backed away from the corpse,

I lifted the hand to place it alongside the body and was amazed how cold it had become in sssuch a sshort period of time - and how thin and sssmall it wass. The skin bore the signsss of age, it had dark marksss of the elderly upon it, and had been pulled away from the diminishing muscle. It *wasss* frail - but still bore sssignsss of some of the power that had ruddered thisss man'sss formidable accomplishmentsss. Ressspectfully, I placed the hand next to the Captain'sss body and adjusssted the shroud.

I nodded at the pale little orderly who now cautiousssly moved the remainsss of the Massster of the Miranda from hisss bridge. Asss the door closssed, I wasss ssstruck by the notion that in my two yearsss of ssservice aboard the ssship, two Captainsss have been driven from her - an unhealthy record.

Foolishly perhapsss, I made a vow to the Firesss that sspawned my race that there would be no third while I wasss aboard her. While the strength wasss in my sssinewsss and my heart had the ssstength, I would not go gentle into that good night. I would rage againssst the darknesss of the night unlike any who came before me, and that darknesss would come to know the fear of my wrath.

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

LOG ERROR: USS GALAXY UPLOAD DAMAGED

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

FLIGHT CONTROL Log, Stardate 60316.4

Officers are manning both the main bridge and the battle bridge while Raven Darkstar is monitoring the entire battle and coordinates shuttles from the Navigation Dome (state of the art holographic Navigation Command prototype) in the Nav Offices. Junior officers

(NPCS) have relieved the more Senior officers (PCS) giving them time to refresh themselves, calm their nerves and stay sharp for round two when it comes.

All shuttles are currently operational, manned and ready for deployment if necessary.

All available mechanics have been loaned to the fighter detachment for fighter repair if needed.

Lt. Darkstar, CFCO, USS Galaxy. End Log.

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

"Chief Flight Controllers Log,USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4.

I'm not entirely sure what to say.

Miranda's suffering a loss, with the death of Captain Summers, but I don't seem to be feeling it. I'm not sure why. The department seems to be holding up, as best as we can anyway. I've offered up our Shuttlecraft and its personnel for use throughout the Fleet in assisting co-ordination of repairs, and supplies and such. Hopefully, that'll make a difference.

I don't know that it will, with the Hydrans still breathing down our necks. I figure that they won't stop at Romulus. If I were in their shoes, if they wear shoes that is, I've never seen a Hydran up close, I'd probably not stop until the entire Romulan Empire had been bought to its knees. Not that I want to give them any ideas mind you."

Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

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

"CAG's Log, Major Corran Rex, USS Galaxy"

"Official death toll was eight pilots - five of whom were in the new Saber Squadron, including the unit commander, Major Kol. That big Klingon bastard was a good friend of mine. I'll miss him - and dedicate the next battle in his honor. Not that he'll need the help getting into Sto'vo'kor, I'm sure."

"I have a replacement in mind, but I don't want to record that in the log until she accepts. We've scrounged up replacement pilots from the survivors of the Concorde's Wing. Miranda and Typhon have taken aboard most of the others, I believe."

"Kettch is also off the flight list - the little fuzzball took some shrapnel after he punched out, and his leg suffered from vacuum exposure. I'm not sure if he's ever going to fly again. I've appointed Pad as temporary three flight lead for the Vanguards, and..I can't remember what else I was going to say.

"Hell, I need some sleep. Computer, amend to personal log."

"Scuttlebutt has Ella in sickbay. I should visit her, I know - I want to, but I don't know if I've got the damn time. Don't much know if she wants to see me, either, or how much I really want to see her. Hell, it's complicated."

"I don't if she knows yet, about Victor being MIA back on Romulus.

Somehow, I'm more worried for any Hydrans that get in his way - and I think she will be, too."

"What isn't, right? End log."

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

"Acting Group Commander's Log, USS Miranda. Major Rena Starburst, recording."

"Fourteen pilots down, one way or another, out of Rogue Group's 36.

Our command staff is decimated, with Colonel Mitchell, Major Mel Thora and Major St. Melisande among the MIAs. We've taken on twenty three additional fighters from the Concorde, and I'm trying to work out new squadron rosters."

"I've been placed in temporary command, even though I never wanted more than a squadron. War doesn't give much of a damn about wants, though. If it did, the Skipper'd probably still be alive, and we wouldn't have abandoned thousands of our own back on Romulus."

"Including my sister. Damn you Arel, you better be all right when we get there. Or I swear to god, there aren't going to be enough Hydrans in this galaxy to pay for this. End log."

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

Lieutenant Saul Bental, USS Galaxy

Galaxy Intelligence department update :

"Chief of Intelligence's log, supplemental. Stardate 60316.4

In the wake of the withdrawal from ch'Rihan, The Galaxy's intelligence department focuses its effort on three main venues.

The first is analyzing the battle and its consequences. The Hydrans revealed many of their cards, and we now work in conjunction with the Tactical department in order to draw a new, contemporary picture of the Hydrans' ability. The fact that Major Rex concented to install our surveillence equipment on the Vanguards resulted in an ocean of new, exclusive information which should prove quite helpful to the Tactical and Intelligence analysts.

The second revolves around the Starbeast. Here, I have a few hypotheses based on a recent covert mission I was involved in. Once Ensign Eve recovers, she's going to be a major asset in researching this subject since it is related to cybernetic implants and neural conditionning, an area she's supposed to be quite familiar with.

The third is preparing for round two, which is bound to come. I'm probably going to ask Raynor to deal with this one. We're gathering as much intelligence on the region as possible in order to provide the fleet's head strategists with reccomendation as for how, where and when to face the Hydrans again. With the sheer power of the Hydran fleet, my recommendation is going to be using brain instead of muscles, and plan a series of guerilla-like operations while we wait for reinforcements.

The Hydrans are going to find out what many conquerors discovered in the past five centuries. It's not that hard to take over another nation. It's much harder to hold it."

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

Lt Colonel Alex McKeon, Co-CIO, USS Miranda

"Co-CIO's Log, Lt. Colonel Alex McKeon, USS Miranda, Recording: "

"I've always hated these logs. They make me feel self conscious - it's not like I'm talking to anybody but the computer, here."

"'Course, I could just be hiding behind the fact that we just got our asses handed to us pretty damn good. It stings, can't lie about that."

"But from a spook's perspective, that battle was a damn gold mine. Not only do we have reliable data about the Hydran's capabilities - which are, frankly, a lot tougher than they've any damn right to be - we got a boatload of data on that million-ton gorilla everyone's calling the "Starbeast."

"We'll figure out how to beat it now, I know. Guess the real question is whether we can do that while there's still a Romulus to save."

"So I guess I better get back to work. End log."

Operations Log

Ops Manager, Lt. Commander Erigone Aello, Stardate 60316.4

Aello stormed into the Operations office and everyone jumped. "I want status reports on my desk in five minutes. I'll be in my office.

Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with Acting Captain Jaxom, if you want. I'd advise stowing it, though. He's up to his spots in problems and I wouldn't want to be the person who pushed him under."

She breezed past the stunned faces. "And somebody bring me a double Raktajino."

The door hushed shut behind her. For a moment, her steely facade cracked. She let herself feel tired, feel her guts twist inside her.

Numbly, she rubbed her hands across her face, through her hair.

The chime to her office sounded. Aello snapped back. She had to take this all in stride, had to show that the world wasn't ending.

"Enter."

Zondo slipped into her office. "I've got your Raktajino."

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping, Zondo?"

He shrugged. "What? And die in my sleep. I've been running with damage control. They've needed the help."

Aello nodded. "You're a good man, Zondo."

"How are you holding up? Double Raktajino's pretty nasty, even for you."

She shrugged. "I'm holding up fine. You look like shit, Zondo. Take some friendly advice and take some downtime before I remember I ordered you to take it. Things are going to get worse before they get better."

Zondo smiled. "It's good advice, Commander. You should take it, too." He slipped out the door.

Aello leaned forward and tapped on the computer.

"Operations Manager's Log, Lieutenant Commander Erigone Aello Recording. . .

"I couldn't be more frustrated by the Operations officers of the Miranda she'd been assigned two trained chimpanzees and a cadet to take care of Ops. Strike that, we have the cadet: Janeen Jaxom, and the poor thing was doing her best to keep things together while Man'darr Maivia, the current contender for the top of my short list to dump out the nearest airlock, is gallivanting around on Romulus somewhere, instead of manning his post as department head, like he should be at a time like this. At present he's just edging out Commander "Toyota" Wolfson as the winner of a blackside walkabout on my credits, but only just.

"When Chris called me up from science to take things back into hand, Martin Elizando had officially been manning the Ops station as officer of the watch for close to seventy-two hours straight. Zondo's a good officer, but he doesn't know his limits and he doesn't know when to ask for help. I'd reprimand him for it, but the real problem is that Maivia left the ship in the first place and the Miranda just doesn't have that many experienced operations officers still in the department.

"I sent Zondo and Jaxom both off to sleep for a shift before we encountered the enemy. The Jaxom girl especially isn't ready for this kind of duty. Enthusiasm and youth just aren't enough for some jobs."

Aello stifled a yawn, then winced in pain. For a moment, she looked drawn and exhausted. "Hades, old age and guile aren't enough right now. Chris is dead. The damage throughout the ship is bad, even by the standards of this cursed tub, which regularly looks like the losing entry in a demolition derby. Jax, Minerva preserve him, looks as bad as the ship. As for me, I think my ribs might be broken, but there's too damn much to do to sit still right now.

"I've got to remember to record something for Alison, Chris's ex-wife, something that says his last words were that she was right and that he died with her name on his lips. That's the way he'd want to be remembered. Hades, I've got to get him cleared off the bridge.

There's no time for this.

"If someone is analyzing this to try to figure out what went wrong for Starfleet at the Battle of Romulus, or whatever the history books decide to call this, I'll tell you a secret. We needed more manpower, not some token show of support that made some politician able to sleep better at night. Your token support cost lives. I have work to do.

"End recording."

Aello stormed back out of her office. She picked the nearest two enlisted men. "The two of you, with me. We need to clear the dead off the bridge."

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

OPERATIONS LOG, USS GALAXY: UPLOAD ERROR

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

SECURITY

Chief Security Officer's Log, USS Galaxy Supplimental: Stardate 60316.4

The day's actions have left the ship in a shambles. Out of everyone in my department onboard, fifteen are dead, 12 injured with two in critical condition. Five are missing in action and presumed dead. Yet despite the loss of life, I must commend my security officers for repelling the Hydran boarders and protecting the crew. They handled themselves better under fire than most, considering that a majority of my staff has not seen a major war.

As we speak, I have still yet to sift through all the reports from my officers. Alot has gone on, even hours after the battle. As of now, my staff are assisting in search, rescue and repair operations. From the extent of damages taken in battle, the patrols and work alone will occupy most of our time.

This reminds me, I must commend the actions of Lieutenant T'lan, who saved my life during the battle by holding onto me during a hull breach. She deserves a medal for her actions, as do many of my men and women.

I have yet to hear any news from the Romulan surface. Many of my staff are down there, as is my daughter and ex-girlfriend. I worry for them all, not knowing if they are capture, occupied, or still fighting. All I can do is pray for the best.

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

Personal Log, Stardate 60316.4

Acting Security Chief Sanchez, USS Miranda

****

If Commander Smith makes it back alive, I'm going to kill her.

There's a reason I didn't let Jii talk me into playing chief when I first transferred to the Miranda ... hell, there are several reasons:

Stupid Ensigns. Paperwork. Stupid ensigns who actually expect you to fill out paperwork in the middle of a battle ...

Seriously, the Hydrans do their best to turn Miranda into the 'verses largest tin can target and some stupid vato had the nerve to tell me that I needed to sign for the extra gun. Mujer estupida ...

Security is multi-tasking: helping the wounded to Sickbay, searching for missing officers and crew, prepping for our next battle, and ensuring overall ship security. It drives me crazy that there is always some teenage delinquent that decides to steal or vandalize something post battle like we aren't going to do something about it.

(snort heard)

Yeah, I get to smack some kid's ass black and blue while she gets to go have all the fun on the planet.

And the damn replicator is fried so I didn't get any coffee this morning.

I'm so going to kill her for this.

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

"Chief Engineer's Log, USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4 ....wait, is this thing even working?

Repairs to the Miranda continue as we retreat from Romulus. The collision with the space creature did far more damage than can be seen by the eye. Among those hands lost was Captain Christopher Summers.

While I did not know the man as well as I would have liked, I knew him to be a good and fair man.

Repairs are proceeding at a quicker pace than I expected, perhaps my engineers share the same sense of loss at Summers' death and, like myself, total immersion in work seems to be the only healing force.

The ablative armor is damaged beyond the repair capabilities that we have on the ship. As much as I hate to say it, we're going to need a starbase before we can permanently repair the damage done along with the structural damage we took. I'm confident though in this ship's design that we will be able to handle anything more that might, and probably will, be thrown our way.

Computer, end log entry."

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

Acting Chief Engineer's Log, USS Galaxy, Stardate 60316.4 Nara slammed the panel back in place. She shouted without looking over her shoulder as she stood, checking the readings for her repairs, "Report?"

The reports were changing and progressing with time. She hoped they had gotten much better in the last hour. Reports were being shouted in as she finished up her bit on the console.

"Shields at 80% with weak spots at fore."

"Weapons systems up besides torpedoes. Estimated to be fully operational in 2 hours."

"Life support working. Oh! Except in Cargo Bay 2. 79% functional there."

"Core is good for Warp 4."

"A lot of other damage, DC crew making progress. Too long to list verblly, see apended text file.... End log, I guess..."

Nara walked at a brisk pace to the other side of the core and looked at readings there, "Keep working on those shields. We need 100% with no weak spots!" She shouted several other commands as she climbed up the ladder.

Chief Medical Officer's Log, USS Miranda Stardate 60316.4

Main Sickbay, CMO Office

A bone-weary Anjoli sat down at her desk for the first time in two days. The emerald doctor had had a nagging headache for hours. Despite modern medications and ancient meditation techniques, the body eventually needed to sleep. Just as she started to close her eyes, she looked up. The chrono on the wall was blinking, and she noticed the flashing indicator that demanded a medical log entry.

She swore softly in three languages as she rubbed her temples without success.

"I will disembowel the next bureaucrat I meet with a rusty fork."

Sighing, she shook her head and got it over with. "Computer....start medical log entry."

The computer chirped happily, which only made her wince even more.

"Medical log, stardate....whatever today is. This is my post-action report. Sure, it's a day late, but I've had my hands in chests and skulls saving lives. If Starfleet doesn't like it, they can dock me."

She picked up a PADD from her desk. "We've had too many casualties, even for my team to process. I haven't seen this kind of carnage since the Dominion War. Precious few of our casualties are from other ships, hastily rescued as we withdrew from battle. Radiation burns are rampant among the patients, just adding more sorrows to their trauma."

"Every available bed is full. We've resorted to using the holodecks for backup for the lowest level of traumas. At least there we can holodocs to render aid and comfort. Sadly, the morgue is full and we've resorted to activating other areas for temporary housing for the dead."

"Speaking of which....to add to a personal note to my earlier entry about the death of Captain Summers....." Anjoli didn't say anything for a long moment,considering what to say. "I made an effort to get to know Captain Christopher Summers in his time here, and I regret not having a chance to hear more of his stories. I enjoyed his deceptive charms and taut wit. We will not see a man of his like again."

"I also fear that he is but the first of many.....end log entry."

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

Chief Medical Officers Log - USS Galaxy

Stardate 60316.4

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

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

"Chief Medical Officers log, the Battle at ch'Rihan was.. No, not there, there's a damaged plasma conduit behind that wall, damage control need to get at it!" she shouted suddenly before continuing, "The battle was.. Messy. We have wounded and survivors from several other ships aboard, as well as our own injured. Current figures show all medical facilities and triage wards have over two hundred wounded scattered between them, and probably half that in walking wounded who are going to have to return for proper attention once this is over. I have a call into the Olympic to see if they can take some of the wounded from the lost ships from us, but for now we're operating well over our limits. And it's been like this since the first shots were fired."

"There's no list of the dead right now. We haven't had the time. We've had to focus on the living!"

"Our medical staff has been supplemented with rescued staff from other ships, even so, there aren't enough of us to go around and there have been some tough calls to make. The Hydran hellbore cannons are worse than I remember from Havras."

"So far there seems to be no indication of any combat aboard ship. The Hellbores though have done more than enough. There's been damage in several areas of the secondary hull that has left one of the med bays in the secondary hull destroyed and many other areas with it."

"Major damage to Deck eleven, only one deck above us has shorted out various systems, making me glad we had the backup power units installed, we would have lost all the EMH's if the reserve power hadn't been available. However, if Damage control can't seal the hull breach fairly quickly we may have to evacuate Med bay two in case the hull breach widens and breaches deck twelve."

"Hyronalin is also being distributed amongst the crew in most of the secondary hull due to radiation from the Hellbores. If left unchecked it could present problems in the near future. I have warned all staff to exercise caution should the need arise to administer Arithrazine to any patients, as the resulting side effects can be dangerous."

"We also have a fairly sizable number of Rihannsu survivors aboard as well, many of them wounded. This is causing a few problems as we're not set up to deal with large numbers of Vulcanoids. Our stocks of copper based blood and synthetics are running dangerously low, and the few Rihan ships I've spoken to so far don't have the supplies I need, needing them themselves. We're actually having to get transfusions from volunteers at the moment when blood supplies are needed. If we don't get some supplies soon, or have time to clone what I need, the next fight might result in many more casualties simply because I don't have what I need to save people."

"Also, with Lieutenant Grey in sickbay currently I believe Lieutenant Eshe is now senior engineer, however I have been unable to contact her regarding damage control. According to the computer she isn't aboard anymore. I can only hope it's a glitch as it reports her last location as on deck eleven," pausing a moment to compose herself she took a few deep breaths, "there is a possibility though that.. that she may have been caught in the decompression of parts of deck eleven along with several others."

"Goddess be with her, and with us all."

"End log entry."

"Unexpected Faces in the Night"

Primary Characters:

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Cmdr. Arel Smith
Lt. Victor Kreighoff

OOC: Takes place prior to "Log Updates: Romulus"

*****

Underground Resistance Camp

*****

The slice on her back was stinging and her shoulder was about two seconds away from popping out of place.

Since she was Klingon-raised, Arel Smith couldn't complain of pain or fatigue but thankfully it did allow for her to give full reign to her temper. She dropped the young man that she been dragging at the closest medic and then stomped off in search of the nearest Federation officer.

But who she found was not who she had been expecting.

Arel pulled her phaser.

Jordan was leaving Kreighoff, a hand trailing along the stone walls of the underground tunnels, when she heard the approaching footsteps. She paused and looked up, forcing her gaze to focus, staring at the phaser, then pushing her eyes to the woman who held it. She had to fight to find the name.

"Arel?" she questioned, forehead knitting.

"You didn't do your homework." Arel told the woman. "Jordan's dead and you're about to join her."

"Go ahead," Jordan stated. "I shouldn't be here anyway. This isn't why they sent me back." She could stop the tear from dropping down her cheek. "So if you're going to shoot me. Do it."

"I'd rather you tell me who you're working for first. Then I'll shoot you."

"That's not as easy to answer as it should be," Jordan said. "Please.

Arel. Lower the phaser or use it. The Arel I knew doesn't hesitate like this. Hell. The Arel I knew thought phasers were a dishonorable unless absolutely necessary. But it was a long time ago."

Arel gave her a smile. "Okay."

She dropped her phaser and pulled out her bloody mek'leth.

Jordan watched the vibrantly purple Hydran blood slide off the blade, dropping onto the stone floor of the passage.

"Arel," Jordan murmured, stepping back against the wall. "You really don't want to do this. Please. Step back." She could feel the glow raise up in the jewel, settle over her chest. Jordan pressed her hand over it, trying to push the light back inside. "Don't--"

"Save it."

As she watched Arel's reaction, Jordan did something she wasn't proud of, something she found buried inside her, though she wasn't even sure where it came from.

She screamed.

Loud.

Her knees buckled and she ended up on the floor against the wall, balled up tightly, knees tucked up tight against her chest, head down, arms up to protect herself as her back pressed hard into the stone behind her.

For a half a second Arel paused, the sight of the real Jordan screaming would have been enough to shake even her, but then Arel reminded herself firmly that this bitch was an imposter. She advanced.

"Arel, no!" Jii yelled, interposing himself between the two women, catching the strike of the mek'leth on the stock of his disruptor rifle. He'd been nearby, having just checked on the Marines Arvelion had assigned to Keller. He was on his way now to discuss a strike this evening with the 'Colonel and Admiral Sela, when he'd unmistakably heard his wife's scream.

Arel scowled at first and then blinked. "Jii?"

"Stand down, Commander!" Elaithin shouted, louder, the voice of command really entering his tone for the first time in months. Good as it was to see Arel, she *was* trying to stab his wife. "Now!"

Arel pulled back her blade instantly. "Yes, sir."

It was strange to see him after so much time. He looked different, of course, less Starfleet, but it was still Elaithin Jii. And that meant....

Arel grimaced as she looked at the woman currently in a ball on the ground. "Jordan?"

Jordan raised her head, looking up toward the Miranda's chief of security, and she nodded. Her eyes were heavy with tears and her face tight with exhaustion, but it exuded a look of knowing. "This isn't exactly the way I thought I would be reintroduced to my friends," she said, softly, swallowing. "But if it's any consolation, I would have tried to kill me too."

"Shit." The security officer sheathed the blade and then held her hand out to Jordan. "I ...appologize."

Elaithin watched the byplay between the two women. This was as well as he could have expected things to have gone, he supposed.

He didn't want to consider what might have happened if he'd been farther away.

Arel wasn't going to ask how it was possible, as it was probably going to be an answer that she wouldn't like, but instead hugged her friend tightly. Then she stepped back and glared at the onlookers. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"You," a voice that tugged at her memory answered from behind her, in the direction that Jordan had been coming from. "Her. A mistake that wasn't made." A familiar sensation crept over her, one that was tied to the voice in her mind. "Which was good, because they would have been angry with me after I killed you."

Arel rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Krieghoff." She remembered the enigmatic Security guard from the Galaxy, of course.

Victor looked at Arel for a moment, as if what she'd said made no sense. "Of course I would have killed you, Commander. You're too good for me to have given a chance to. If I'd tried to only disable you, you might still have injured or killed her - and I couldn't allow that."

She supposed that was sort of a compliment and it was good that Jordan had a protector, even if it was in the form of Krieghoff. "What news is there?"

"Lots." Jii clarified. "We've been busy down here. Fork's not far, I'll take you to him. It's good to see you, Arel."

The look she shot Elaithin was nothing short of scathing. "We'll talk about that later, Captain. I'd like to see my brother now."

Jii sighed. "Fair enough."

Victor looked at the three for a moment, and then silently fell in behind them. If people were going to do things like this when they met Jordan, then he should be there. The Captain couldn't watch out for her all the time... and there was a reason why she was important, beyond even the fact that she was the Captain's One. He knew that, but just why he knew, or what that reason was hovered just out of reach in his thoughts. It didn't matter, he decided. "The fact that there was one was enough..

"Any word on the Miranda?" Arel asked them. "The Rogues?"

Jii knew why she was asking, of course. "No word yet, I'm sorry. If I hear about James - you'll be the first to know."

Romulus

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

"Hazard Team, Starship London NCC-739802, Stardate 60316.4 Lieutenant Commander Mo'Bar recording. My Hazard Team is gradually getting smaller, as daily we engage in combat with the Hydran occupying force.

We've lost our Starfleet Marine Corp companions, I'm not sure where they've gone. I took my team out on patrol, leading a small strike operation. When we returned to our checkpoint, the unit had gone. It is my hope that they have not been gunned down by the Hydrans.

It would be a considerable loss this day if Starfleet has truly lost the 101st's 'Colonel Arvelion. From what I had seen, he was a force in combat. One I was pleased to have gotten the chance to fight alongside. For the next few hours, I plan on taking my unit and searching for any remnants of Starfleet Personnel that I can find.

Hopefully, there will be... I will have to continue this at another time. The Hydrans are approaching."

Lieutenant Commander Mo'Bar Chief of Security/ Hazard Team Leader USS London [Romulus]

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

"I'm not really sure I can call this a log, infact, its probably not.

Maybe I should call it story notes. Maybe I should call it world under seige. Maybe I should think of a name to accurately describe this in a way that the people back home will associate with the Hyrdan Occupation of ch'Rihan. Some of my Starfleet survival training is coming in handy, helping this journalist to stay alive through this difficult time. I hadn't even planned to be here.

I was only hoping to get a first hand look at Romulus, but now, I'm getting a little more than that. Infact, I'm getting alot more than that. Why do things like this always seem to happen to me. Well, thats not entirely true. Maybe I'm in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time. Or some other variation. I'm not sure. I've tried to evade capture, I've tried to evade death. So far, I've done pretty well. So far..."

Tyrone Miller, Civilian Journalist USS Galaxy [Romulus] Stardate 60316.4

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

Crouched down in nook in some deserted alleyway, Spa'an took some time to stop and rest. He pulled a small recording device from within his robes, and spoke into it in a calm but measured tone.

"Personal log, Lieutenant Commander Spa'an. Stardate 60316.4 In my haste to determine the whereabouts of Lieutenant Ampete and Ensign T'Ashaya, I now find myself stranded in the Romulan capital. The Hydran invasion of Romulus has begun in earnest and the combine Romulan-Federation fleet has undoubtedly engaged the enemy. Before departing the ship, I left instructions with Lieutenant Commander Cernu to see to it that Sciences continued to meet its duties. As for Ampete and T'Ashaya, I have not yet determined their locations or conditions. I have, however, gained the names of contacts within Ambassador Spock's movement and will begin seeking them out. It is my hope that they may have information to help me locate our missing officers."

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

"Personal Log...Elaithin Jii, Stardate 60319.2"

"Not really sure if I should put some kind of title there, but a lot of Arvelion's Marines started calling me General a few days ago, and somehow, it seems to have stuck. The other elements of our makeshift resistance here seem to have picked up on it, too."

"I can't say I much care for the title.. but then, it also pretty clearly bugs the crap out of Sela, so I haven't exactly fought it. I know she's the senior member of the Romulan military present.. but what can I say? Damn hard to trust someone who's so on record with a warlike grudge of her own against the Federation. I can trust her, though - as far as it comes to getting the Hydrans off this planet."

"After that, though? Let's just say she's not going to be behind my back."

"Not that my back's unprotected. Since we hooked up with them, Arel and Kreighoff have hardly left mine or Jordan's side - it makes me wonder if Arel's worried about me running off again. Fork's proved a suprisingly stable ally - truth to tell, he and I work very well together. He's a damn good soldier, and he understands this kind of guerrilla war a lot more than some of the other Marines I've known over time."

"We're still hearing reports of solo Starfleet and Romulan military units out there, but it's getting harder and harder to link up with them. The Hydrans are everywhere - the Romulan populace has been almost completely subdued. It's been seven days since the Fleet retreated and Romulus fell. We've accomplished some small things - we freed some prisoner, killed some soldiers (more where they come from) and blown up a couple of supply depots."

"It's not enough. We're going to have to think bigger. We need to get beyond annoying the Hydrans, and start making things damned uncomfortable here."

"Two days ago, they launched some kind of satellite network. Now the sky's purple. We're no longer able to get any message traffic from outside the planet. A fighter - Romulan - tried to penetrate this "shield" and was vaporized. We don't know if it was a weapons system, or the shield itself."

"So that's going to be our first real target - because that thing is definately going to have to come down."

"But I'll figure that out tomorrow. End log."

"Bye, Daddy"

Lt. Commander Rachel Summers, XO (former), USS Hood
Lt. Commander Erigone Aello, Ops, USS Miranda

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

USS Miranda

Morgue, Deck 17

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

Her father was dead.

The notion left Ray Summers numb inside. She'd always had a good, if distant, relationship with her father. After all, she'd largely grown up in his absence, only seeing him when he'd been on leave from the Anchorage.

Still, she'd idolized him, and rightly so. He was her father, and he had been a good one. And she, of course, had very much been a "Daddy's Girl". It hadn't surprised anyone when she'd followed in dear old Dad's footsteps to enter Starfleet on a Command track. Her success hadn't been a surprise, either, filling the position of XO to Robert DeSoto on the venerable USS Hood, a position Will Riker had once held, twenty years ago.

But still, it had seemed the risks of the job couldn't touch him. He was Chris Summers, for god's sake. Captain of the Anchorage for thirty years, pushing the boundaries of explored space and everything this weird, wild world had to offer.

And now he was dead. As dead as Captain DeSoto, as dead as the Hood.

She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. They'd talked on subspace a few times since the 'Fleet assembled at Romulus, and kept intending to have dinner together "one of these days."

"One of these days" never quite came.

"Bye, Daddy." She whispered quietly, brushing a hand across his cold features.

Aello limped in quietly. She wanted a moment alone with Chris before she had to give him back to his family. This wasn't to be that moment. Aello knew Rachel from her holos and from her messages to her father, though not personally.

She hadn't expected Rachel to be here so quickly. She had expected Rachel to be coordinating the temporary placement of the Hood's survivors among the crews of the other ships.

Sweet Mother Minerva, but she wasn't ready to face them yet. She had other business to attend to anyway. Medical, for example, was hounding her to come have her ribs looked at. She'd kept stalling them, but this might be right time to disappear to sickbay for a few hours. Aello turned to leave.

The Hood's former first officer heard Aello's footsteps on the metal decking, and half turned. Her face cocked slightly in recognition.

"'Commander.. Aello, isn't it?"

"Erigone," she confirmed with a nod.

"I've heard of you." Ray shrugged. "My mother's not particularly fond of you."

Aello shrugged. She'd expected that much, really. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Summers, so I can't say that I have much in the way of opinion of her one way or the other." She left off the fact that Allison Summers was divorcing her husband, that she'd abandoned him the instant the Miranda disappeared. It was obvious to Aello that Rachel Summers didn't acknowledge that fact yet.

It wasn't important right now, not really.

"You served with my father for a good while, didn't you?" she asked guardedly. Ray considered her mother's suspicions ridiculous, of course, but then children often filter their parents through the eyes of childhood, never seeing their parents quite for what they truly are. Still, her mother had been so insistent with her suspicions, Ray couldn't help but have that element of doubt.

"About two and a half years," Aello confirmed, ignoring the accusatory tone in the other 'Commander's voice. "We got stuck on Starbase duty together."

She shifted slightly to favor her uninjured right leg. The left never had been quite right since the snake bite when Miranda was blown deep into Gamma quadrant. Getting blown across the bridge by Hydran fire power hadn't done anything to help it. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I came down to make certain everything was taken care of, should we manage to survive this and get him home for a funeral. It'll wait until your done paying your respects."

Ray knew she should try to say something else, to comfort the woman who'd served with her father. That was a bond her mother just didn't understand, but Rachel did. But the words wouldn't come, so she merely said : "Thank you, 'Commander Aello."

And as the woman, left, she turned back to face her father's body.

"Motivation"

Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

The Miranda's Bridge, once loud, full of hustle and indeed bustle, lively and very much a place where any outsider could tell things got done, was know merely a shell of what it once represented. All seemed quiet, those on duty there subdued. For Ramirez, there was precious little that he could think of that might change that. Not that he neccesarily felt that he should. This crew needed something. Something to rally around, something drive towards.

He had a feeling that round two with the Hydrans might actually be it.

A lot of people had been lost over Romulus. And a lot more people had lost people over Romulus. Vengeance was a powerful motive, he knew. It would drive a lot of people on in the coming days. Bringing the Miranda up to spec, taking the ship back into battle. Liberating ch'Rihan from a Dangerous foe.

John didn't know whether Vengeance was what motivated him though. He hadn't really lost anyone. The people on Miranda that he really knew; Dave; Anjoli, they were still ok. They were still alive. He hadn't spoken to either of them yet, but that was something he'd just as soon as he found the time. His friends were important to him, but right now, all he wanted was to be there for the ship, and its Commander. As the Miranda's Chief Flight Controller, he'd have to be ready for when that order came through. The one that would see them Warp back to Romulus.

And maybe that was it, that was what drove him now. What Motivated him while he was working. A desire just to be reliable in the face of adversity. Not exactly a powerful motivater, but it was all he had.

That, and his obligation to his father. His father hadn't shown up during the battle. He'd left John to concentrate on flying the ship. A wise move in the Flight Controllers book. He didn't need any distractions when he was trying to help the others prevent the universe from coming to an end.

Although he actually started to wonder why his father hadn't "visited"

him for a while. If he ever did at all. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just John's own imagination, and now that he had a problem to occupy his mind with, he didn't have to think about him. About his Death. Although something said in the back of his mind, that John hadn't imagined any of it. Something about it all seemed too real.

John took his eyes off his work for a few moments, to glance around the Bridge, and he saw something that he hadn't expected to see.

Looking at one of the consoles on the back of the Bridge was a man in a Starfleet Dress Uniform. Watching as this man inspected several of the consoles, John didn't have to guess who it was. The figure, his father, turned towards him, winked, and then disappeared.

John smiled, before turning back to his console, and getting down to some work. After all, they had a planet to save, the Universe's own desires aside...

"Permissions"

(Takes Place After "Unexpected Faces in the Night")

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Lt. Branwen London

*****

The Resistance Tunnels
Hydran-Occupied Romulus

The hospital wasn't hard to find - there were too many people dead and dying there for it not to call out to Victor like a beacon.

The dead weren't the ones he was looking for today - or tonight, or this afternoon, or whatever time it really was in the timeless now of the tunnels. Now, at this moment, he had eyes only for the living - for four living souls that he was trying to find, and hoped were here.

The first entrance to the area where the hospital was set up he found opened into a civilian section, with injured children clinging to parents. He turned and waked away, unwilling to add to the fears they'd already found. The second was better, populated only by those that no longer needed the services of the makeshift hospital and its staff, the ones that were beyond help now, beyond pain and suffering and fear. He paused for a moment there, frowned, and then moved on, further into the hospital, looking for someone that could answer questions. The dead would be there when he returned.

"Bloody hell. Don't tell me we act out off painkillers." Branwen said to one of the orderlies who was only trying to do his job as well. The young man was one of the Marines who had only had basic first-aid training.

"I am sorry, ma'am. The supplies that came with us are all gone."

Branwen took a deep breath. One of the small things she had been able to do for her patients until now was at least take away some of the pain. Now even that would be denied to them.

The voice behind her started to speak an instant before the orderly recoiled and she felt a familiar presence. "Use a tricorder. Medical model or a sciences model with the A75-Delta module. Set it to run a delta wave frequency that matches the patient's alpha wave rhythm. Hook up electrodes through the auxiliary input and connect them to the patient's temples. The delta wave will keep them unconscious and in no pain." Victor nodded to her as he stopped a meter away. "The book says one person to a tricorder, but most models will support five to six people if they do nothing else." He shrugged at Bran's look. "It's a field expedient prisoner immobilization technique, but it will do what you want, too. You can even put people out for surgery that way, though I'd only have one to a tricorder in that case."

"Victor!" She almost shouted for joy. "You are a godsend. You are not hurt are you?" Quickly she moved closer to him to inspect him. "It appears not." Can you stay to help out? You seem to be better at this then I am."

"No, I'm not hurt." He frowned down at Bran as she checked him. "The Hazard Suit worked this time." He kept frowning as she continued talking, the words flowing around him. Once she'd finished, he shook his head. "I can't do your job. I kill things; I'm not good at healing them."

"Oh nonsense, I wish you would stop talking like you are sooooo frightening. Come on, it was your idea, help me get my patients comfortable again." Just the thought of having him here giving support brightened her mood.

Victor held up a hand. "Watch." He stepped back, moved to the side one row, and selected a patient at random. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the man - an injured Romulan - "This isn't intentional." He took a step forward, and then another - and the man's eyes went wide. With a small gasp, the injured Romulan started trying to back away from Victor, threatening to dislodge his systems monitor and fall off the elevated cot he lay on, his panicked eyes never leaving the approaching man. Victor stopped, apologized again, and backed up. As he moved back to the point he'd started from, the Romulan relaxed and his struggles ceased, but he never stopped watching Victor.

"That's why I can't help you," Victor said quietly. "Just because you can't see what I am, doesn't mean that everyone else can't."

She gaped at him. "What.... Why.... What did you do to that guy? Why was he so scared?" The Romulan had not known him, so why had he reacted so violently. Bran went closer and sniffed at him but there was no smell or anything. "Maybe he was afraid of humans?"

It was odd the way the slight Marine insisted that there was some reason other than the correct one. Victor considered that for a moment, finally deciding that she'd simply had too sheltered a childhood to really understand. "I do that to almost everyone to one degree or another, London," Victor said quietly. "I've told you that before, several times, but you didn't want to believe me. He wasn't afraid of humans - he was afraid of me. Of what I am." He looked around the room. "That's why I can't stay here. I don't want to hurt these people on top of what they've already endured."

For the first time Bran had to doubt if he was saying the truth. "It would be such a pity, you could be so much help." Bran looked at him. "You haven't found a nickname right have you? Could you maybe just try to smile, that way you wouldn't look scary?"

It must have been a very sheltered life, Victor decided. "No, no nickname. I think about it, but nothing comes to mind when I do. I'll keep trying. As for smiling...." He turned and smiled at the nervous orderly, who shivered. "Did that help, son?" Victor asked quietly, his face back to it's normal neutral expression. "Be honest."

"Ummmm...no sir."

Victor shrugged after turning back to Bran. "I don't think smiling will help, either."

"Hmmmm." Bran said. "We need to do something about that when we get back to the ship. Right now,...... Oh I just wish you could stay, Victor, I feel so much safer having you near. Isn't there anything you could do not involving people?"

"I could kill Hydrans. I was doing that when they found me and reminded me that there was something else I should be doing," Victor replied.

"Something else? What are you supposed to be doing, Victor?" She asked him curiously.

"Looking for the sheep that didn't make the evacuation shuttles I was in charge of," he replied. "That's why I came here - to see if any of them were injured."

~sheep?~ then she shook her head. "You have such a curious way of talking, my friend. Who are you looking for, maybe I can help?"

The names rolled out without need to check on them. "Smallberries, John, Ensign, Operations Department. Morbius, Altaira, Petty Officer Third, Sciences." The other two names continued off with mechanical precision. "Are any of them here among the wounded? The tunnels interfere with tricorder scans unless you're right on top of the scan target, or I'd try to find them that way."

She thought for a while. "Smallberries.... The name rings a bell. Let me check okay? Don't go away." She moved back into the hospital.

Victor looked around, nodded to the nervous orderly, and pointed back towards the morgue he'd passed through to reach this point. "I'll wait there - better for the patients. I can't scare the dead," he said quietly and moved off.

The morgue was quiet - they always were, although Victor didn't know why. The dead cared nothing for the words he said or the volume he spoke them in. They were free fro that, free from everything... unless they didn't know how to leave. He'd felt that before, in places where death had been so sudden and violent that they deceased hadn't seemed to know that they were, I fact, dead. The most recent spot had been on Trill, but there had been others. Here, thankfully, there was none of that. All of these souls had wanted to leave and none lingered behind to fill the room with their oppressive pressure.

There, in the darkness, as he had so often on the Galaxy recently, he closed his eyes and let himself be lost in still quiet dark, his thoughts on a face with green cat's eyes as he waited for London to return.

"There you are." Bran said returning. "He is indeed with us, Ensign Smallberries. We have even managed to keep him alive, but he is not well enough to walk out with you. What do you want him for anyway?"

The knowledge that at least one of his sheep was still alive, even if injured, was a relief. He hadn't failed them all. "I want him to come back to the Galaxy alive," Victor told her without opening his eyes. "That was why I came here. He and the others missed the last shuttle, though - so I had to stay and find them. It's my job to get them back to Galaxy." He opened his eyes and looked around the room at the still, silent dead. "I've already failed twice."

Bran saw his vulnerability he didn't know how to deal with this very well. "It's a human trait, Victor, to fail. Maybe you are becoming more human again. Don't take it so hard. I will take good care of this.... Sheep for you."

"I think I would have needed to be human at some point in the past before I could become human 'again,'" Victor observed. "But thank you for agreeing to watch over him - it leaves me free to locate the other three." He frowned and looked up. "I wonder if they were on another set of evacuation shuttles - I hadn't considered that. Perhaps they're still alive up there, with the Galaxy."

"It might be." Bran said. "So don't worry too much. And you need to check in here occasionally to make sure he is okay." She grinned at him.

"I will, but he won't die now," Victor said with a subtle shift in his voice. "I won't give him permission, now that I've found him." His eyes shifted up. "Just like I know she isn't dead, because I told her that I won't give it to her, either."

Bran raised an eyebrow and let her tired brain work a little. Then she gasped. "Did anything happen to Angie? She is not missing is she?"

"She's alive," Victor replied, looking down at Bran. "She stayed to fly in the battle... but she's alive; like I just said, I didn't give her permission to die." He looked at Bran with a curious expression. "I couldn't give it to her - she's my girl."

Branwen embraced him, realizing it was his way to say he was worried. "She would not dare disobey you. She will be okay, you will see."

"Of course she will." Victor's voice still held that same air of total certainty. He stood still until she released him, and then added, "You don't have permission to die, either. Do you understand?"

She smiled and nodded. This was his way of letting her know they were friends and she mattered to him. "I wouldn't dare go against your orders, Victor."

Victor frowned. "Of course you would," he replied. "If you thought that you needed to, or it was the right thing to do you'd ignore anyone's orders. That's why this isn't an order, so it can't be ignored." He continued to frown at her. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Touching me."

"Does it bother you? It makes me feel safe to be close to you. I know you will protect me.' Bran said simply.

"People who aren't family don't touch each other like that," Victor said slowly. Or were they? Angelienia touched other people, patted them on the arm, even hugged them - and he could tell the difference between that and the way she touched him. Maybe this was like that? He wasn't sure that London was the best person to ask something like this - not, at least, without a padd handy - but the dead all around them weren't going to answer him, so... "Unless I'm wrong about that... Am I?"

"Ah." Bran said sitting down and motioning for him to do the same. "Some people do and some people don't. I depends a lot on how you were brought up. Strangely enough I was brought up in a family that didn't touch much. But I find it pleasant to hug my friends. For a lot of humanoids touch is important to feel good and to survive even. Do you really find it uncomfortable, Victor?" She asked him.

"No one touched me except my parents as a child. Cousin Greta can, and did, but she's a decade younger than I am. Uncle Bernhard could, but he was always away in the fleet, even after he married Rexa and Ar'resh who can also touch me." Victor frowned, thinking. "After that... there was a Transporter Chief on a ship I was stationed aboard who managed it once; Rissa, a girl I knew on DS 9 that could only do it because what the Cardassians had done to her was worse than what she felt being near me; Gunny Goldstein, who transferred off the Galaxy; Lieutenant Grey... and then Angelienia. And you."

She thought it was sad that he could name the people who had ever touched him so easily. "You know I have no romantic interest in you." She said. "I have told you that I only touch you because you are important to me as a friend and a big brother. Knowing that, honestly how does it make you feel that I touch you? Don't try to think about it, just say what you feel."

How did it make him feel? "Uncomfortable. Confused. In my world, only family - both kinds - touches you; no one else. You're not family, so you shouldn't touch me, but you do. It's like someone changed the rules and didn't tell me." He frowned. "I wish Angelienia were here; she makes everything easier to understand."

"Victor, I think it is about time that you tried to understand these things without her. Angie is an outgoing person; she likes to have a social life. Now I know she will never force you to be part of that, but if you ever had any doubt about wanting to change things in your life, now is the time. Angie and I will be more than happy to help you with it. Just say the word."

Victor frowned as Bran's words buzzed around in his head, ricocheting from one side of his skull to the other. "That's the point," he replied slowly. "I can't understand them. This is my life. It's the way things are. They they've always been. Nothing changes, nothing will change. But when she's here I can... it's easier to see things that aren't part of my life. Things that aren't the way things have always been."

"But you are changing," she said quietly. "Until recently you would not even talk to me this way."

Victor frowned, trying to think and make sense of the words. Was he changing? Could he change? Wasn't he the same as he'd always been, as he'd always be? Wasn't that they way it was supposed to work? "I...." He closed his eyes and thought harder, remembering the feel of Angelienia in his arms, the smile she'd given him when he'd held her for the first time off a dance floor on the flight deck, the light in her eyes as they danced, the feel of the clothes that she'd sewn for him by hand as he slipped them on, knowing that she'd be happy to see him wear them... and remembering how he'd felt at each of those moments. "I... am," he conceded. It was odd. He'd never noticed until he admitted that Angelienia was his girl, but he had changed just as she had. "We... changed each other."

"That's what happens when you fall in love, Victor." Bran told him. "You might even start to like feeling close to other people not your family."

"I... don't think so," he said slowly. Whatever it was that he was becoming, he was still who - and what - he'd always been. "I'm still... what I am inside, I still do what I do to people. That hasn't changed."

"Never to me." She held out her arms sitting next to him inviting a hug. "And you still have to make up that nickname, Victor."

"I know," he replied as he studied her. "I'm still not good at thinking of one, though." After a moment, he shook his head slowly at her offering gesture. "I don't think I've changed that much, London. I don't know that I can."

"I can help you." Gently she patted his arm. "Next time, I think you have already made great progress today." She did not want to pressure him too much; Branwen really liked the new Victor that was emerging.

Victor was still trying to come to grips with the idea that Angelienia was his girl, and admittedly really wasn't certain how that was going to work - much less how it was *supposed* to work - but he did understand enough to know that the help he really wanted, London couldn't provide. She wasn't the one that danced in his dreams. "I need to go," he said quietly. "You need to care for the wounded."

"Yes we both have our duties." Bran got to her feet feeling safer with him there around guarding them all. "And Victor, you don't have permission to die either." She told him in parting.

"Drawing the Line"

(Front Lines of Love and War)

(4 days after the Fleet withdraws)

Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG, USS Galaxy
2nd Lt. Steven Jonas, Marine, USS Galaxy

(OOC: Please note that details of Steven's adventures and subsequent arrival to ch'Rihan will be posted in due course.)

****

Aerv's Mansion
ch'Rihan

****

The uneasiness in her stomach revolted against her yet again.

Muttering an expletive, Faylin popped two tiny pink dissoluble pills.

Their aim was mild, to help the acid in her calm down. Yet, it wouldn't for some reason unexplainable. A sigh of emotion escape into the atmosphere from her mouth. Giving a cursory glance around her opulent surroundings, Faylin realized that she had been here before with Aerv. Those were nice memories, not like the ones that were forming now and had been created days before since her arrival on this planet. Although Fork had been her main companion, she had times such as this where she found herself utterly alone. Yes, people milled about, getting refreshment or offering her a small smile, yet no one stopped and asked her genuinely how she was.

Fork had given her the task of locating another location for base, and fortunatly, she recalled that Aerv's mansion was available. Moving had taken a while, but all had been established, and she had a minute to rest.

Glancing downwards, she smirked at her rugged appearence. The time on the planet had left her thinner, bruised, and battered, yet her spirit held out hope that Steven would be okay. He was safe of the Galaxy, surrounded by a ship that would protect him through the battles.

Faylin found relief in that point. Inwardly, she wondered if he had thought of her.

A familiar face would be welcome now. Any face that she had known.

The opening of the solid mahogany doors made something within her tell her to look up. Faylin did not at first, until she heard footsteps that had a certain weight to them that forced her to have an imaginary hope with each step. The steps stopped short, causing her to knit her eyebrows with confusion as she continued to glance at the floor.

It had taken him ages to find her. In the sea of faces that made up the myriad of people that filled the huge mansion. He had no idea who owned it, nor did he care. He had found the one thing on the planet that he did care about, and she was sitting right in front of him. She looked a little more gaunt that he had remembered, and sported a few bruises to her neck and face that stood out against the soft radiance of her downcast face. After his adventures in the Science Lab aboard the Galaxy and his subsequent time aboard the other ships, seeing her alive had lifted his spirits to a new high.

Her head raised, slowly at first, until her eyes fed her brain who exactly was standing across the room. It was a scene she would never forget as Faylin continued to sit, with an expression of dumb laid wide open on her features. The single solitary Marine, verses the gold oppulence of his new surroundings. It was a case of total opposite. McAlister's eyes followed the eru colored tile edged in fillagree gold that traveled across to meet the dirtied combat boots.

Raising her gaze, the green of the uniform clashed terrible with the soft glossed marroon colors of the wall. Traveling upwards, the uniform continued, the walls continued. Assualting the man above was the eloquent glow of the chandelier lighting. They made his auburn hair glow with an intensity that was only matched by the dark circles underneath his red rimmed eyes. Faylin froze, her mouth opened slightly.

He looked down at her seated form, as her eyes rose from the floor up his body til her eyes locked with his. He smiled playfully. Despite all that she had been through down here, she still looked as beautiful as ever. The lights dimmed, the sounds of the people around seemed to quieten to whispers, the sound of heart beating faster than normal rose in his ears as his eyes sought out those of the woman he cared for greatly. In the heat of the moment his hands relaxed and his helmet slipped from his grasp.

He dropped his helmet. The silence that was between them still was present, dispite the noise. The couple was frozen in time. Thoughts of how they had gotten there, what they individually had been through; the answers were not important. What was important was that they were alive. Both of them, blood cursing through thier bodies, minds working, and eyes falling upon the other one. The thud of the helmet against the tile made her blink, her eyes still steadied on the man in front of her separated by just a short distance. Faylin stood up, the antique terran bench squeeking woodily with relief from her body weight, what little there was of it. She stood, her eyes drifted from his eyes, to his hair, to the stubble on his chin, drinking in every pore of his features. Memorizing them yet again. Faylin took a single solitary step.

His eyes darted over her face, from her pert nose, to those enchanting eyes, to her sexy smile. He thought about her all the time, and yet seeing her now standing there made his heart melt in a way he had never felt before. Even now after the days since they had parted company, he could still smell a slight wiff of her perfume. It was intoxicating, and yet made him feel so very much alive at the same time. She took a step forward, her eyes never leaving his. She was his world and now that he had found her, he wasn't going to let her go.

She watched as he took a step now, the heavy clunk of the boot sealed her fate concerning her growing feelings for him. Something in her rose upwards, her spirit, forcing the solitary step to become a quickened run. The run, ended by her leaping up into his awaiting arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, nustling herself into his neck as he locked his arms around her waist in return.

"Steven.........." She whispered through tears of utter joy and relief flooded her senses washing all the events on the planet away, if just for a momentary second.

The familiar scent of him was back, yet stronger, more potent. It was his own, no colonge needed. It wrapped around her senses as she brought her left hand upwards and entwined her fingers in the short hair at the back of his neck, just letting his being fill her with comfort and security. She needed and wanted so much to tell him that she loved him, yet, something held her back. Satisfied just to pysically hold him for the moment. She was his....entirely. But, did he feel the same in return?

Steven rocked back a step when she leapt into his arms. Not that he really noticed. He was to enraptured with Faylin to notice. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight, wishing that the moment would never end. He covered her neck in soft kisses. "Hi Fay," he said breathlessly, "I was so worried about you, when I heard..."

"I've missed you..." McAlister whispered. She let her emotions overflow, putting caution to the wind as she leaned back slightly, breaking the embrace and sliding downwards. Cupping his stubbled face in her hands, she looked intently into his eyes, permitting him to feel all that she was feeling. His skin felt rough, the way a man's face should be. Arching up on her toes, she kissed him again, the lust that she felt earlier had melted away into pure need of him.

"Steven........." She didn't know if this was the time or place, but she felt an urgency to tell him something, regardless of his reaction.

"Shhh, hon." he brushed his fingers over her mouth, "We have lots of time to talk. I'm here and I aint going anywhere. I love you and I don't want to lose you anymore."

"But I........"

Steven lowered her to the ground. "Before you say that, I have something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"I don't want to have secrets from you. I don't want to lie. So I need to tell you something." He bowed his head as he sat on the bench.

She knitted her eyebrows, with confusion eatched on her features. She grasped at his hand. "I'm sure it was nothing....was it?" She saw the crestfallen look on his face. "Steven?" Faylin tilted her head to the side, a look of concern replaced the confusion. "What did you do?"

"I slept with someone. On a Klingon ship. I was drunk, and high on meds, and had no idea what I was doing. When I realized what I had done, I have regretted what I did every waking moment, but nothing I do will ever take that back. I don't want to lie to you. Cause I love you and..."

"Oh." She withdrew her hand, the expression matched his. Faylin stood, facing him as he sat on the bench. "I gotta go.........."

"Fay... I'm sorry. Please don't go. I love you." He lowered his head as he realized that in trying to be honest, he likely had just destroyed the one thing he had going for him. "I..."

Her shoulders sagged, truth be told. The fresh feeling she was experiencing for him died out like a rain soaking fire embers.

"You're an asshole." She stated simply, walking off.

"Red Rover"

by Saia & Sam

****

Emergency Shelter 1

USS GALAXY

*****

Saia held out the PADD for Sam. "Is the castle tall enough NOW?"

Samantha looked over. "Yes, but the moat could be a bit bigger. And you need a few more banners. And your "heroine in the wind" looks a little hippy. Oh, and ... "

Saia glared at Sam. Something she learned from the glares Nara gave her, but she likely didn't realize yet.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Artists. So touchy."

"What's a hippy? Same as a hippopotamus?" Saia looked at her wraith of a woman and didn't quite get it.

"No, it just means she has big hips. Or is that a bow?"

Abruptly, Saia just shut the PADD off and let it fall to the ground, "Never mind."

Samantha sighed. "Look, I know I'm being critical and I'm sorry. It's a very good illustration." She just didn't like being stuck in a room and that tended to make her more... critcial.

They were safe for now but she still felt somewhat shaky in the aftermath of the battle. She had no way of knowing if Arel and Korvin were even alive and that also played with her nerves, although if asked later she'd totally deny it.

Saia picked at some grass silently, "I don't want to draw castles and heroines."

"Oh," Sam replied, somewhat hurt. She thought that Saia had liked drawing from her stories. But then again, Samantha knew she was bossy.

Sometimes. "Well, do you want to do something else?"

Saia looked at Sam strangely. Did she just ask what SHE wanted to do?

Saia wasn't sure how to answer.

"I mean, I know we're not really allowed to go anywhere while all this is happening, but we don't have to draw."

Saia looked down and thought a moment. She just then realized she missed playing with her friends at school. Not even she realized how much she had lost. Who would want to acknowledge it? She looked at Sam and poked her shoulder and shot up running across the room, as if a past game never ceased.

Sam looked after the girl incredulously. "Tag? You want to play tag?

Saia stopped and glared back at Sam. "Like it's any different than writing a story!"

The other girl held up her hands. "I'm just saying that its so rebellious for you. I must be a good influence."

"I don't want a good influence."

Samantha laughed. "Well, you're certainly talking to the right person." She looked over at some of the other children who were grouped in small quiet bundles. From her view as Ship's Morale Leader, the situation looked a bit depressing. "Ever play Red Rover, Sai?"

Saia shook her head and smiled, "How do you play?"

****

The two lines of children faced each other, some with grins and some with openly hostile faces. Samantha scowled as she looked down the line, deciding that some of these children's mothers were giving them too many meals from the replicator.

She decided on a pair of children whose arms looked the scrawniest, whooped out a war cry in Klingon, and charged.

A few seconds later she found herself practically swinging on their arms, a nice bruise probably already forming on her stomach. "Damn it."

Saia winced as Sam hit the arms. She gulped knowing she was smaller than Sam and prayed they wouldn't call on her next.

"Red rover, red rover, send Saia over." Sam's new team chanted.

She sighed and mustered up all the strength she could as she took on a full pledge run. Only to hit the wall the same as Sam. Included in this comedic scene was the small Trill girl to completely flip over the arms landing on her back.

The annoyance at such a failure was reflected in the grip of the hands she had to take.

"Honestly, Sai." Samantha tsked. "We're hitting the gym when all this is over."

"You're telling me!"

"Hey, *I* have muscle!" Sam protested loudly. She broke the line to make a quick bicep and then grabbed Sai's hand back. "This team has freakish arm strength! What are you all on steroids!?"

"So we're on the winning team now?" After a moment, Saia smiled, "I like this game! No matter what we win!"

"Optimist." Sam grumbled.

Saia just shrugged and started swinging her hands joining in with the chant.

Samantha growled slightly. But maybe Saia had a point- it was nice to be on the winning side.

And she could just as easily take over as leader of this team. She was

*the* Samantha Widdlestein, after all.

"Okay boys and girls," Samantha said. "Let's go after that scrawny girl to the left."

[ooc: this takes place just before the post "Unexpected Faces in the Night" sent by Pat last night -- sorry about the very slight backpost, I dropped the ball on this :( ]

"Fear is Only in our Minds"

K Jordan Elaithin
Victor Kreighoff

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

The Resistance Tunnels
Hydran-Occupied Romulus

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

Jordan's hand trailed through the long hair of the young Romulan girl whose head rested in her lap as they watched Jii and Victor Kreighoff come through the tunnels. There were a few Romulans coming with them, looking shell shocked. No Starfleet officers. This time.

They had slowly been coming in: Starfleet, additional Romulan resistance fighters. It was a testament to resilience, that was sure. Of course, neither was the sort to give up very easily.

Jii was speaking to Kerec, then nodded before the man broke away and moved down the tunnels, past her, meeting a couple of other resistance leaders standing in an open entranceway. Jii stood there a moment, his tall solid figure nearly silhouetted against candle light. Jordan cocked her head to the side, watching him for a moment, his head bowed a little, hands low, deep in the pockets of his torn, dirty pants. She fought tears as a small smile brushed to her lips.

She looked up again when he paused by her, pressing a hand to her cheek and kissing her forehead before he followed Kerec, down the catacomb passages.

Jordan leaned her head back against the stone wall, breathing, feeling the air in her lungs, the child in her lap, the world and people around her. She gently moved the girl, laying her on the mound of blankets with the child's brothers. The large black eyes stared up sleepily between half open lids before she fell back to unconsciousness.

Carefully, she moved through the tunnels, following.

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

The Resistance Tunnels
Hydran-Occupied Romulus

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

Victor closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the small nook he'd located. He was far enough away from the refugees that his presence wasn't going to make matters worse for them, but close enough that should Jii or one of the others need him, they could call out and he'd hear it.

That was, he realized as he sat there in the dark, an interesting metaphor for his life: he was always too far away to be reached by the people around him, but still close enough to help them if they needed it.

Except someone had reached him. She'd fought, and she'd struggled, and she'd reached him... and now that he'd finally realized that, now that he'd finally understood... she was flying among the stars above the sky and he was sitting in a hole deep underground a universe away.

There was no doubt about it. God still hated him.

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

The Resistance Tunnels
Hydran-Occupied Romulus

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

She paused at the narrow entranceway to the small chamber. Really, it was more a crevice. It didn't surprise her that he would want to sequester himself.

"You don't frighten me," she said, voice low, speaking to him though her gaze was directed to the ground. "I've been what you think you are."

Victor frowned. It was Jii's lost-but-found-One, the woman that he'd met earlier. He hadn't thought that she was a counselor, but then he'd never thought much about things like that either. Whatever she was -- and something in the back of his head told him that she was *something* other than she appeared -- she didn't seem to understand any better than the other counselors he'd seen.

"I'm not trying to frighten you," he said quietly. "That just... happens... when people are around me." He opened his eyes to look at her, the light from the corridor outside surrounding her with a faint corona that made her appear like she was glowing slightly from within. "As for you being what I am... no, you aren't. Something like it perhaps, if driven by necessity; many people are, or can be. But you can take it off and store it away like a coat worn on special occasions when the necessity isn't there -- I can't."

"That's not what I meant," she said softly. "I don't really know. What I meant." Her jaw tightened, and she let the silence hold for a long beat. "I might… I think I can help you," she said. "You don't have to live with it anymore. You see... there's something inside you that's... part of It. That's why you can hold it. But you don't... have to. Not to the extent that you have been. It doesn't have to be so painful."

Victor frowned as he tried to understand what Jordan -- he remembered that was her name -- was saying. Talking to people was hard enough for him when he hadn't had sleep for over three days now, most of that time in combat; right now it was even more so. He was pretty sure he was going to start to lapse into German in a minute, a sure sign that he'd reached his limits.

Was Jordan saying that she could fix what was wrong with him? That was stupid -- there was no fixing him, that wasn't how it worked. He was the way he was born, the way he was supposed to be. He wished Angelienia was here, to touch him and hold him and help him understand; it was easier to understand things when she was with him. Maybe if he just asked Jordan? He was too tired to find a padd and type things out right now.

"I'm not trying to be rude," he said slowly. But I don't understand what it is that you're saying, nicht var?" Yes, there was the German, right on cue.

"I don't either," she said, softly, her voice tight and heavy, the sounds of it holding emotions the extent of which no name could adequately explain. In many ways, she seemed on the edge of emotional collapse. In others, she seemed almost excited, like someone who had discovered an answer, someone who finally understood their calling. She brushed a hand up to tuck away a thick lock of auburn brown hair that fell in her face before drawing a deep breath, steeling herself as her hand settling on the necklace. He palm covered the jewel, pressing it tight against the skin of her upper chest.

"I... can feel the way your presence affects others," she stated, pulling her eyes up to meet his. "I can feel the affect, from them, but I can't feel the cause from you. I can't feel it... but I can see it -- there. Inside. It runs with you when you fight and is enveloped when you don't. I can't explain, there's a lot of things I can't explain anymore." She swallowed, hard, voice tearful and frustrated. "All I know. Is that I understand. We were born different, to be different. You'll always be, as you are, but what you're holding inside only makes it more difficult."

She shook her head, a small, unsettled and distressed laugh breaking from her as she looked away, tears threatening in her eyes; she seemed to shrink a moment, acted almost as though she was going to leave. But she stopped, and turned, and approached, crouching down in front of him so she was looking up at him, about to touch but withdrawing her hand as she spoke.

"I can take it for you," she whispered, her hazel eyes gleaming blue for a moment as her voice, her posture shifted. "You won't have to worry about it anymore."

Victor frowned down at her. "Nehmen Sie was von mir?" he asked, curiously. No that wasn't right, that was in German, wasn't it? "Entschuldigen Sie mich... No, sorry, I do this when I'm tired. That was supposed to be 'excuse me.'" He took a breath. "I asked you 'Take what from me?'"

"That's okay," she said to him, "I understand the German." She gently, carefully rested her hands on his knees, setting them there as though she was touching a feral animal. "When you fight. Do you feel this added power within you? One that almost conducts you? It might be this small sensation in the back of your mind..."

"Nein," he said slowly. "Sometimes I fight and I can keep my mask on... but not always." Why, he wondered had she said that? And why was she touching him? No one touched him except Angelienia.

Jordan closed her eyes for a moment, a swath of sensations resting over her.

["Go to sleep, Victor,"] she said, her voice not her own though even in the darkness she knew the words came from her mouth; the sounds took on the qualities of the wind, or perhaps it was something else. ["Let me show you what I mean."]

Victor's pale, almost colorless blue eyes met hers, the light from the stone giving them depth that they lacked on their own. "Ja," he whispered as the light filled his sight and soaked into him. "Sleep...." His eyes closed and he leaned back against the stone. "Don't," he said quietly as his thoughts slid into an ocean of blue, "pull at the mask...."

[ooc: immediately between "Fear is Only in our Mind" and "Unexpected Faces in the Night" ]

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

"lock the last open door"

K Jordan Elaithin
Victor Krieghoff

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

As Victor Krieghoff slid into perhaps the most vulnerable position he had ever been in, Jordan leaned forward and rested her hand gently on his chest. It rose and fell under her pressure for several minutes before she closed her own eyes, only to open them in the White Space.

It was hardly surprising. This is where she existed, now, though she lived in the normal universe. Her form was draped in garments of blue-shaded energies, some so light they almost turned white, disappearing in the Space. The energies danced and wisped away as she moved, integrating with the White that surrounded her. Here, her form was hardly solid, sometimes almost translucent if she moved too fast. Only the intense memory of shape kept her within those parameters.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and she managed a small smile.

"Victor," she stated, her eyes settling upon the man's shape as he stood there, clothed in dark green, some so dark it seemed black; it stood out, hard, against the White. It was almost shocking to see it; few would carry inner darkness so far, into this place. Very few. But when the inner darkness was so dear to them, when it had come to define them, when it was held and concealed and imprisoned so tight... she imagined it would be difficult to release without help.

The figure's head tilted to the side and regarded her for a moment, and then looked around as if studying a room it had just walked into. When it finally spoke, it was with the same voice she'd heard on the dirty, ruined streets above, the words cold and terrifying and carrying with them an undercurrent that here, in this place, was clearly exactly what it had sounded to be before: the cries of countless damned, dying souls. "How interesting. Why are we here, then?"

"Revelations must be made." The voice was even, cool, detached, almost vacant.

"Revelations? Really?" The figure took a step forward. "What kind of revelations, hmmm? Are we going to play a.... nyyahhhgggggg!" It convulsed, shuddered, and threw its arms wide as lines of blue lanced into it from all directions and began to pull the green energies free, "No, stop, you'll..."

The green energies around him seemed to be pulled away, the robes of light turning black as the green settled into a thick cloud between them, a line or two of blue pulling through it.

"This lives within you, though it does not belong. You've held it tight. Now it is time to release it. Held here, it hurts no one."

Victor's form dropped to the floor on its knees and slumped forward until his forehead was touching the ground, as if he were praying. The space around them was silent for a moment, and then a tendril of the roiling ball of green reached out and tried to touch Victor, fighting the lines of blue that sprang out to imprison it. Another, and then another line stretched out, until there were a half-dozen tendrils constantly questing and being rebuffed in their attempts to reach the still figure on the floor.

As the play of green and blue light continued, a soft, musical sound echoed through the room and footsteps sounded, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere. A woman's voice laughed, the sound not quite right, the tone shrill and a perhaps teetering on madness. A third figure danced out of Victor's shadow, whirling and moving in a fluid motion that caught the eye and held it. She was tall, easily over six feet, and appeared taller due to an ornate headdress she wore over her disheveled, long black hair. Other than the headdress, an equally ornate golden collar, and a series of bracelets and anklets, she wore no clothing.

Her skin was the black of empty space, with shifting stars faintly visible under the ebon skin, and her figure was a perfect blending of ripe curves and athletic, toned muscle. As she danced, she added or subtracted arms seemingly on a whim, sometimes having two, and other times four or six all moving sensuously. Her face, oddly enough was that of a Ktarian woman, but her mouth was full of fangs that no Ktarian had ever possessed.

The figure spun once more, and then stopped in place, both feet firmly planted in - and growing from -- Victor's shadow, swaying sensuously, as she looked around the room. "The Victor can't hear you," she said with a smile that was motherly, deadly, and sexy all at the same time. "But I can...."

"Why are you..." Jordan murmured. She hadn't expected this. But in reality, she had no idea what she expected; she didn't know, really, what was even happening.

The woman spun in place. "The Victor cannot speak to you, so who else would there be, but me?"

It took a moment for Jordan to process the representation in front of her was Kali. Passion. Sex. Maternity. The feminine of Shiva -- the dark to his light.

"Victor is strange..." Jordan whispered, softly. Of course, she couldn't criticize. If anyone knew that the subconscious state didn't necessarily reflect what one would expect, she did. The whole fiasco of Nasser and the bizarre trip to the Wonderland of her mind came roaring back to her… it was so long ago.

"He is the Victor. In the entire universe there is none like him, as there is none like you. Not now, not now that he is Created." Her face flickered, and for a moment she seemed to have many faces, all overlaid on top of one another: two, at least were Andorian, several were human, and one, oddly, was Klingon, but the Ktarian remained the face most visible. "There were so many of us that might have been the One, but I was the One chosen for now."

She paused and studied Jordan. "You are Created too, I see. Like the Victor. But not. You were Created by another were you not?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Jordan said, being pulled into the conversation despite attempting to find some way to sort through what was going on, to apply reason to the nonsensical. "I was. Then I wasn't. Then I was returned." It sounded ridiculous now, passing through her lips.

Kali nodded, hands waving in an almost hypnotic pattern that matched the sway of her hips. "He was not Created that way. He Created himself. He spent so long sleeping, never waking, protecting those around him by keeping himself asleep even as he protected them with the flesh of his body. But then the Other came... and everything changed."

"The Other..." Jordan licked her lips softly, suddenly uncomfortable. "That's what I'm trying to stop, that's what I'm supposed to... I need to speak directly to Victor," she said, "this is not how it should be."

"How then, should it be?" Kali asked curiously. "This is what it always like for the Victor -- just without the trees and the music this time."

"I don't know. I've never..."

Jordan glanced around the White Space for a moment as though suddenly realizing where she was. For, while a part of her saw this as reality, another didn't understand, couldn't understand, and was fighting against this. Worse, that part was winning -- the White Space around them seemed to grey and fluctuate, the blue energy surrounding the green was weakening, though it struggled to keep a hold.

"You are a nonsensical illusion," she found herself saying to the representation. "Please, we don't have a lot of time."

"If you say so," Kali agreed. "But is not all life an illusion in a way? Is time itself not an illusion? Talking to me is talking to the Victor, whether I wear his face or not."

"Then tell him he must let it go."

Kali's face saddened. "He cannot. Do you not see?" She pointed to the tendrils of green that still strove to reach Victor's form. "It reaches for him even now, trying to make the Victor whole again." She sighed. "You must understand; the Other came and slipped in at night to possess him, to make him like it... but it wasn't strong enough to do that. The Victor ate it up, like a fish; tail and all. He tied it to himself, binding it with chains woven from his soul, so it couldn't get free and hurt another, protecting the sheep from it as he has always protected them, no matter what the cost to him. It *is* the Victor, now, and he is it. They are one. They are Created. The Victor resisted for a long time, but finally there was an event, a moment that wasn't supposed to happen but did - and in that moment he accepted it." Kali sighed sadly. "It is too late, even for the One, to reach him if he does not wish it. He is Created Shiva, the Destroyer; Death, the shatterer of worlds."

"He is a ridiculous child," Jordan said, "who is no more than exactly what he wants to be. Should he desire, his force of will could easily expel the entity and be done with it, especially should he receive assistance from a third party."

"And you are not a child?" Kali laughed softly. "We all are, are we not?" She shook her head. "Perhaps he might have - before he was Created. Then, he might have done so, but not now. Look at him." She pointed with three hands to the man on the floor and the other three at the roiling ball of black-threaded green energy. "In Creating himself he has made the Other a part of himself now. As I said, it is the Victor and the Victor is it, two halves of a whole. If Time existed here, the Victor would be dying on the floor, half of his soul rent from him, and both dying in the separation. Instead, the half that can move tries to do nothing but reach him, tries to become one again."

"It was reckless of him to take upon this responsibility," Jordan stated. "It is not for us to decide to become something beyond ourselves. It was not his place to decide that…"

"Whose place, then, was it?" Kali asked sadly. "There was no one else there when the Other crept into him; no One to share the task, no Prophets to guide him. There was only the Victor. He chose what he chose, did what he did, because there was no other choice. Not for him. He chose, and became the prison that holds the Other apart from the sheep it would have compelled him to slay. He could do nothing else." He sad smile became one of outright sorrow. "And because he chose the way he did, on such a deep, primal level, he does not even know that he *has* chosen."

The White Space shifted for a moment, flickering, and Jordan looked around for a moment. "We don't have the time."

"No? Why?" the goddess asked, her head tilting to the side in the exact same manner that Victor's had earlier when seeing Jordan for the first time.

"I don't know what I'm doing; I barely know where we are or how we got here," she looked at the being in front of her. "I just… It said I could answer some questions; solve a problem."

Kali smiled. "You are a mother, are you not? I can see that within you. You have given your One - and the universe - the greatest of all gifts: new life that came from your love. Surely then, you know that not all problems should be solved? That there are things that children must learn for themselves before they can let go of the trappings of childhood and become adults? That sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to do nothing at all?"

"Maybe I misinterpreted," Jordan murmured as the White Space shifted again, shuddered. She looked from the Kali representation in front of her, to Victor, to the black and green energies held in place by flickering blue. "Perhaps this wasn't… I don't understand."

The energies were released and reached toward Victor. Soon thereafter, the White Space crumbled and Jordan pulled away from the physical body of the man, blinking, woozy as she looked around the cave, which danced and shuffled in his vision.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, somehow managing to stand. She wavered painfully, grabbing at the wall of the crevice in attempts to regain her balance. She looked at the tired man sitting in front of her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall on… Did I stumble?"

Victor blinked. "Sie sind, ma'am müde," he said slowly. No, that was German again. "You're tired," he repeated carefully. "You should get rest, verstehen Sie?" He blinked again, trying to see past the faint aura of light around her. "Ich bin fein. Danke für die Überprüfung auf mich." He was still doing it. "I'm fine," he tried again. "Thank you for checking on me."

"Rest," she mumbled. "I'm always sleeping these days. Even when I'm awake." She managed a small smile. "You do the same, Lieutenant. A few hours won't be the end of All Things."

With her hand still trailing along the smooth underground wall, she left the man who thought himself the devil, unsure, even unaware of the strange images left in the depths of her subconscious.

She heard footsteps in the corridor as she moved through. She only vaguely recognized the woman who appeared; of course, all doubt was removed when Arel Smith shouted and raised her weapon.

"How Do You Fight Something With Four Arms?"

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

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

The scout, encased in its war suit, turned it's attention to Katara.

It's set of three eyes flicked between her and the door and back to her again.

"You...should not...have come...here." The creature breathed, the sound muffled by the apparatus which provided it with the methane it needed to survive.

Katara stepped back onto her other foot and slowly, so as not to excite the Hydran, moved to get a better look at her aggressor.

"Neither should you." She said, as she slipped her data mine into a console that looked passably undamaged.

The Hyran, for want of a better word, laughed. "You Federation are all the same...thinking you are lords and masters of us all. You will learn...the only place to go from the top...is down."

"Top down, huh? Interesting thought. So what do we do now?"

"You...very simply...die." Then the Hydran charged.

The action, Katara couldn't help feel, had a very surreal aspect to it. It felt like it should have a piece of music playing over the top of it. The Hydrans powerful upper limbs aimed a series of punches and blows towards Katara and, thankfully, only connected with one. This was, however, enough to send her slamming into the wall of the room and caused the superstructure of the vessel to shiver and shake briefly.

Katara managed to tap her combadge. [All crew. Return to drop ship and prepare to retreat. If I'm not there in two minutes....] She was cut off as another blow rained down. She knew it was only one Hydran but if the ship gave or they were spotted then it would be over for all of them. At least it would give them a chance....

"Pitiful...just pitiful..." The Hydran mocked as she stood over the fallen Cardassian. A kick hitting Kataras suit and knocking her head against the side of it. She felt something drip down from above her eye and onto her lip...blood, more specifically her blood. How the hell did you fight something that had four upper limbs?

"From the top down Starfleet....the top down..." The Hydran stood over her, all limbs poised to attack, she only had one opening...and she took it.

Rising, as it turned out from down to the top, she, making full advantage of the low gravity spun a foot into the maw of the Hydran snapping it's head back and forcing it up towards the ceiling where it connected, if there had been air to carry the sound, with a sickening crack. She watched as the Hydrans eyes filled with panic and a series of small fractures in its face mask became bigger and bigger and then shattered. The hydrans eyes turned a hideous shade of red before the pressure of space destroyed them and the body fell limp.

It was then Katara noticed the second problem, the blow of the Hydran as triggered a ship quake. She scrambled for her data stick, retrieved it and, before she gave it a second thought, grabbed the body of the scout and hauled it over her shoulder before staggering back towards the escape boat.

She found two of her crew waiting by the hatch. "I thought I told you to go she said as they piled into the ship."

"Yeah well," said the junior lieutenant, "your the only one who could validate our parking. might not matter anyway they'll spot us on their scanners the second we move to leave."

"Hmmm...Why don't we try a DLWS?" Said Katara. "Tell our fighter to get out of there and meet us outside the sector. You two grab those crates."

The team shared a look. "What's a DLWS?"

"You'll see..."

*************************
Hydran Defence Fighter,
Bridge
*********************************

"Sir, we have detected the enemy docked to one of the main ships of the fleet. Our scouts should be aboard but are not responding.

Orders?"

The captain turned towards the tactical station, a small glint in his eye. "How very delightful..." She said in an almost far away voice.

Then, so everyone could hear it. "Fire!"

A cascade of energy flew for the bow of the vessel and connected with the hull of the floating hulk, nothing happened for a few seconds and then a series of explosions tore systematically through the wreckage tearing it a sunder and obliterating what remained.

"We're seeing evidence of Starfleet technology and alloys in the wreckage, couple that with the evidence of warp plasma...it looks like we got them."

The captain sighed. "A shame, I would have liked to have had a talk with them...no matter. Helm, make our course for a return to base, the general will wish to hear of this.

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

From their vantage point, located behind one of the cruisers, Katara let out a sigh of relief. "Now all we have to do is get home..." She said turning towards what was left of the team.

One ensign turned to another and replied. "She makes it sound so simple..."

"Ship of Fools"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy
Captain Daren M'Kantu (Unauthorized appearance)
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Soundtrack: 'Ship Of Fools' - Tsubasa Chronicle Future Landscape I

The Captain of the USS Galaxy broke the news to his intelligence officer as soon as the latter sat down.

The reaction, both men knew, was expected.

"What?! This is outrageous!"

"A year ago, Lieutenant, you would've grabbed the opportunity with both arms." Captain M'Kantu indicated.

Saul mentally nodded at that. Not only that he would have grabbed the opportunity, he actually did – when Commander Henderson gave him the Chief Tactical Officer's spot on the Galaxy. He didn't let that negligible fact slow him down.

"Sir, with all due respect, you're leaving the intelligence department headless when it's needed the most-"

"I leave it full of capable officers. You have appointed an assistant, Mr. Bental, and your department was left mainly unharmed by the battle whereas the Exeter's tactical department is down to four crewmembers."

Saul grimaced. "You have dozens of Tactical officers in the fleet who can do the role, but name five people in the fleet who know more about the Hydrans than me. Name one person in the fleet whose Master's thesis was on that species. ", He emphasized his point by pounding his left fist onto his right palm, "My expertise is needed here!"

Captain M'Kantu would usually put the subordinate in his proper place after such display, but given the circumstances he decided to exercise some more patience.

"No one doubts your usefulness Mr. Bental. You will be able to continue your work from the Exeter."

Saul shook his head in disdain. "Yes sir. I'll stop protesting right now and do my best, but I hope that Exeter's captain won't regret the deal he's making."

"If you have any problems, Mr. Bental, you can tell them to Captain Elessidil yourself."

Saul's eyes tore open. "CAPTAIN Elessidil."

"Brevet." added Captain M'Kantu, and Saul knew there was no going back.

* * *

The shuttle streaked toward the Exeter, crossing the mirage of cosmic mirage that was the Phoenicius system. Inside, the voices of a Deltan chorus filled the rear cabin, haunting its sole occupant.

The first time Saul listened to that genre in Deltan singing was not even real. It was when he traversed the alien-induced dreams of his comrades during the Galaxy's voyage to Trill. It was a bowl, if he recalled, and the Deltan Unarie was there. Was that her name? It was long since she left the Galaxy, but memory of the singing remained.

From time to time, he found himself returning to the songs he heard that night. He found the powerful singing to be much better than its Terran equivalent – operas.

And if anything called for listening to an opera, it was the Starbeast.

He watched the footage over and over again. It was the most recent they had, featuring the Starbeast's action during combat from the Galaxy's point of view. He watched its tentacles move in fluid motions, shattering the hulks of spacecraft.

It terrified him, but he thought it started to make sense.

There was something at the edge of his perception, he knew. An answer. It dwelled there, taunting him, eluding him.

As crazy as it was, something in the motion of this extremely alien juggernaut seemed familiar.

The Deltan chorus reached a crescendo, sending shivers down his spine.

* * *

Hydran technicians circled the vats, taking routine checks and inspecting the consoles.

Their superior observed them from her high standpoint, a broad catwalk stretching over the IHV Arrow of Shibboleth's central bay.

Qelereth'Mev Th'truk's eyestalks focused on one of the vet. Beyond the phosphoric liquid and the occasional bubble stream, the slender outline of a Humanoid silhouette could be seen. Similar silhouettes occupied the other three vats. Indeed, she mused, the quartet made a long way since the scientists began testing them on Vaden. Now, they were involuntarily filling their role as dictated by their abductors. No – as dictated by fate, and the glory of the monarchy.

A sound not unlike a valve releasing steam deafened him momentarily. One of the eyestalks shifted to watched the nearby chronometer. It was time for the rite of the fifth hour.

"Release the T'Kithkin nanites, vats one to four." The Qelereth'Mev ordered, her voice amplified a dozen times.

The phosphorus liquid in the vats turned bronze-red.

"The Counsellor's Plot"

Lt Sg Gwendolyn Parri, Chief Medical Officer, USS Exeter

Lt Miramon Terrik, Chief Counselling Officer, USS Exeter

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

All of a sudden Gwen Parri found herself as acting CMO of a starship. It was not exactly what she thought would happen when she left home that morning. Honestly she had not been even sure if she would be used as a medical doctor or a counselor. The information that had reached the ship had been pretty vague.

Now after been at work for several hours and having somewhat organized her new department she had a little time to go through the crew manifest. For her it was always very important that medical and counseling worked closely together, certainly in times like these so she tried to find out who the senior counselor was.

Soon it became apparent that counseling must be hit even harder then medical and she saw that the senior counseling officer was also a replacement, from the Galaxy.

Gwen sent him a message asking Lt. Terrik to come and see her at his earliest convenience.

Inspecting what was pretty much the solitary Counsellor's office, Miramon couldn't help but heave a slight sigh at the situation. On the Galaxy, there were many offices, designed to accomodate the full complement of Counselling Officers. On this ship, there was one. He'd always thought that to be ridiculous - a ship the size of a Galaxy-Class had many offices, while a ship less than half her size could only accomodate a single officer. A standard crew complement for an Ambassador-class was 700, while on a Galaxy, that number was usually just over 1,000. Somehow the whole thing felt disproportionate.

Right now he was standing in the middle of the room, just looking around. The place really lacked any particular decoration or ornamentation - likely because the ship had just lost the Counsellor that had been assigned to it, then had the temporary replacement moved up to take the command chair, making the Bajoran officer the third to use the office in a rather short period of time. The very notion of it was slightly bothersome - moreso for the crew, he expected.

He was just considering a potential rearrangement of the furniture when he heard the one computer in the room beep outloud. He hadn't noticed it on the desk until the screen elevated itself into a natural upright position, automatically doing so upon receipt of what he could only assume was a message. Not delaying for a moment, he headed around the desk and directed his gaze to the polished screen.

A message was flashing up there, directed at him, by the looks of things. From Dr Gwen Parry, according to the message. Not someone he was familiar with, so presumably she was either one of the Exeter's personnel, or another crewmember rotated off of another ship in order to fill the significant gaps left in their numbers here. Regardless, she wasn't a member of the Galaxy's crew - but she was requesting a meeting.

He tapped the computer off and allowed the screen to recede gently back into the desk, then took half a second to consider his next course of action, only moments before heading off to Sickbay. The sender had been a doctor, so presumably that was where she would be located.

It didn't take him long to reach Sickbay - it was only a few decks away from his office by Turbolift, so the majority of the time taken was simply spent waiting for the lift to arrive at the appropriate deck. He'd stepped out and moved at his usually rapid pace towards the single door that separated the outer corridor from what he knew to be the CMO's office - he'd served aboard an Ambassador-Class ship before, so he was familiar with the configuration.

The two sections of the door hissed open and allowed him to step through, which he promptly did, looking around to see if he could locate the particular officer that had 'summoned' him.

Gwen came out of her office. Now that the fighting had stopped and all the patients were stabilised sickbay looked less hectic. It didn't mean they could sit back and relax, as far as she knew the fighting to it start up again any moment, and then they would have a problem. They were still filled almost a capacity, and there were just enough doctors and nurses to keep the place running. She had set up a schedule so that everybody would get enough rest the coming days, hopefully they would get that time to recuperate.

She noticed the newcomer and the colour of his uniform. With a smile Gwen walked towards him. "Hello there. You are either a new addition to the sickbay, or you are the chief counselling officer." She held out her hand. "Lieutenant Gwen Parri Acting CMO."

Miramon glanced at the woman's hand for a split second, then realised what it was she wanted and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake in the manner that was a traditional greeting amongst humans. He still wasn't used to that particular mannerism, despite having lived among humans ever since joining Starfleet. He personally considered it an odd way of greeting a person, since there was nothing there that elevated the newcomer, as Bajorans often did, in order to set one at ease - it was either a greeting of equals, touching hands in mutual greeting, or it was the condescending welcome of a subordinate by a superior.

At the moment, he had no idea which one of the two was signified by this particular handshake.

"Miramon Terrik, on temporary reassignment from the USS Galaxy." The Bajoran left out his rank, since that was clearly indicated by the insignia on his collar, and the majority of counsellors didn't bother to state their rank, simply because in most instances, they were there not as a superior or subordinate officer, but as someone that you could just talk to, regardless of relative position. "Was there something I could do for you, Doctor? I imagine you have a lot to do at the moment."

"Definitely. I arrived from the USS Miranda myself, the moment I got here the CMO collapsed, so that is my new position." She smiled at the strangeness of that. "On the Miranda I am a triage Doctor during emergencies, I have an MD. But actually I am the assistant chief of counselling. So you should not be surprised that I value a good working relationship between our two departments."

She led him to her office. "Right now most of the patients are stable. And pretty soon they are going to realise what happened and it is going to sink in. The same with all those who have lost loved ones. Pretty soon you are going to be very very busy. How many people do you have to handle the job?" Gwen asked.

Miramon gave a short laugh at that, amused by the way she'd asked that particular question. Clearly if the CMO thought she had it bad...

"Thus far, I have myself as the Counselling staff. On the Galaxy, I'm one of a good number of counsellors, but here I'm both the Chief Counsellor and the only one aboard, aside from yourself and the Captain, who is incidentally my commanding officer aboard the Galaxy, as well. Obviously that means I have to get creative with my strategies for dealing with the crew's psychological issues."

She gaped at him. "The only one, on a ship this big? Have you asked the Captain to find more volunteers from other ships?" Gwendolyn's mind was racing. "Don't hesitate to ask if you need me. I might be the Acting CMO but I wouldn't mind doing work for you in my spare time, as little as that might be. We have to get these people help." Now it was sinking in, she was still shocked.

"I appreciate the thought, Doctor," Miramon said with a sincere smile, "but as it is, I expect that the majority of comfort that the crew will find will come from amongst their own numbers - from friends, family and colleagues. And I'll be co-ordinating some morale-improvement work with the rest of the departments, via the senior staff. My job here is pretty much to be on hand to make sure that the transition isn't too bumpy and to provide any professional advice that might be required."

"Yes…" Gwen thought. "yes, I guess under the circumstances it is the best you can do. But do keep in mind, if you need help, I am here. It will be strange for me not to be involved in counseling." She smiled. "I am sure you will do a great job…. May I call you by your first name? I hate formality."

"I assume by first name, you mean my given name as opposed to my family name?" he asked. Most people now were aware of Bajoran custom with regards to calling them by name, since the family name came prior to their given name, although in Miramon's case, this was reversed. "It's Miramon, by the way. Terrik would be my familial name. And you are...Gwen, did you say?"

"Yes, and it's Gwen, Miramon." She was surprised having figured out he was Bajoran. But Gwen was too polite to ask about it on their first meeting. "How about keeping each other updated as often as possible." Gwen suggested. "And I hope there will be time to get to know each other better."

"Sounds to me like you're more optimistic about this training cruise than I am, Doc. I figure we're just here for a week or two until Starfleet realises what a mess we're in and assigns some permanent staff to crew the ship. But I've no problem keeping you apprised. I'll see you at the senior staff briefings at any rate."

Miramon's voice was particularly chirpy, despite the potential pessimism contained within his words. He wasn't exactly sure why Starfleet was bothering with a temporary crew - surely it would have been better to have the Exeter return to a Starbase where she could top up with personnel that wanted to transfer to a ship of such a class and duty range. It just went to show how out of touch that the bureaucrats were at Command that such a thing hadn't been done already...

"Knowing Starfleet you never know how long we might be stuck here." Gwendolyn said thinking about her girlfriend. "So my approach is going to be to work as if this is a permanent posting and at the same time setting it up so the person taking over from me will have an easy time. It's a lot, and it will be even more difficult in your department with confidentiality. But I think it is also a challenge. We owe it to this crew to get them up and running again."

"Starfleet also owes me three weeks of shore leave, but I can't see that happening, either. Regardless, the crew is stuck with us and we with them, so might as well make the best out of it." Miramon noted, with a slight tinge of sarcasm. "That said, though, they've put one counsellor in charge of the ship, another in the position of CMO and one more in the actual role designed for a handful of Counsellors. Let's hope we don't bump into any more Hydrans - otherwise we'll have to sit them down and talk about their issues with repressed anger."

Gwendolyn giggled and put a finger to her lips motioning for silence. "Hush, don't let the rest of the world in on our evil plot, that we counselors plan to take over Starfleet and later the world."

"Our plot?" The Bajoran raised his eyebrows for a moment, as though surprised and/or shocked by that particular idea. "Who let you in on it? I was of the belief that our new Captain was the soul of discretion."

She laughed out loud. "He used to be a Miranda officer, that's why he let me in on the plot. It will be a secret between the two of us, Miramon."

"I hadn't realised Elessidil had been assigned to the Miranda prior to the Galaxy. When was that?"

"A few years ago. Before my time, but I remember his name from the archives. He was on the counseling staff there for quit some time." She informed him. "So how long have you been on the Galaxy yourself?"

"I've spent two years on the Galaxy and three aboard the USS Valdemar before that. Hence why I know my way around an Ambassador-Class starship like this one. And you? Had any previous assignments prior to the Miranda?"

"After my university I did a short course of officer training then two years on Starbase Trinity as a doctor and therapist and a year on the USS Rachidis as a counselor. I have been on the Miranda for two years now as assistant chief counseling. I like it there very much."

Miramon nodded at that, offering a slight smile that radiated nothing other than agreement. "I know what you mean, Doc. Much better than my last posting as Chief Navigation Officer. It's more engaging and definately more personal. Anyway, I don't think you need me pestering you. You've got enough on your plate, I suspect. See you around?"

"Yes definitely. And let's keep in touch professionally." She told him as they parted ways.

"Just so long as you tell nobody else of the plan!" Miramon noted as he headed out of Sickbay, back to his office.

"Tasks at Hand" -- pt. 1

(Brevet) Cpt. Brian Elessidil -- CO

Lt. Brendan Mullen (NPC) -- XO

Lt. Gwen Parri -- Acting Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Saul Bental -- Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. Miramon Terrik -- Chief Counseling Officer
Lt. John Barrett (NPC) -- Acting Chief Engineer
Lt. Rico Gear -- Asst. Chief Security Officer
Ens. Lydia Montgomery (NPC) -- Security/Second Officer
Ens. Marcus Slayton -- Asst. Chief Engineer
Ens. David Walker -- Chief Navigation Officer Tech.
SGT Kaylee Slayton -- Chief of Hangar Ops

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

Conference Room, USS Exeter

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

The Exeter's captain looked around to everyone gathered at the large conference table. The combined skill and talent assembled here was impressive by any standard, even including the younger officers native to the Exeter's crew. They had worked tirelessly to return the ship to battle ready condition, but despite the enormity of the task and the lingering effects of the disastrous battle with the Hydrans they had mustered the energy and personal resources the situation demanded.

Elessidil considered himself fortunate to have this group of people as his senior staff for his first command.

"First, I want to express my gratitude to each of you for the fine job you've been doing under the circumstances, and especially to those of you who have come from other ships in the fleet," he said solemnly.

"Your skill and expertise are greatly appreciated. By now I assume you've all had a chance to evaluate the condition of the Exeter and its crew from your particular perspectives, and I'm sure you'll agree that while a lot's been accomplished, there's still a lot left to do."

The Betazoid paused for a second to get a feel for the overall mood of the group, which was generally positive. The notable exception continued to be Lt. Mullen, who seemed only to tolerate Brian's presence as a requirement of duty. Still, even he had done his share to help focus the crew's energy on preparing for what inevitably lay ahead. The dynamic between the newly minted captain and his headstrong first officer worked while they more or less stayed out of each other's way, but Brian knew that wouldn't last indefinitely. They were going to have to find a way to work together by the time they were on the battle bridge in the heat of combat.

"So, status reports then?"

"Tactical is... recuperating."

The first to response was also the last 'imported' officer to board the Exeter. Brian didn't get the opportunity to talk Saul in private prior to the staff meeting, but being an empath it was easy for him to figure that the Dutchman was less than content. Nonetheless, he hid his thoughts with an impressively casual exterior.

Of all the officers that had come to the Exeter, it was perhaps Bental's presence that Elessidil most appreciated. He knew the man's experience and his ability to work under pressure in less than ideal circumstances. Not only was Tactical one of the hardest hit departments on the ship, it was probably the one in which Brian had the most limited proficiency and knowledge; having a capable and experienced officer filling that spot relieved him of a great burden.

"Most of the department was wiped out in battle." Saul expanded, talking as though he was discussing the weather on Risa. "So we're working with a skeleton crew spread very thin - even when counting Ms.

Hawkins and myself. The damage to the ship reduced our offensive and defensive capabilities, although I'm sure that Engineering will take care of that as soon as they can. That said, we already have a schedule to bring the department into fully operational status."

Saul reclined back in his seat, and launched a taunting glance toward a certain Bajoran Counsellor. 'They should've renamed it the USS Freud', he thought.

The Bajoran in question simply offered the human tactical officer a short glare, then turned his attention back to the others.

"Medical is functioning, sir." Gwen stated. "The CMO is stable, but I am afraid that he is not completely out of the woods, and it will be quite a while before he will be able to return to duty. Ensign Beral has helped us with an overhaul of the systems. Everything is now within working parameters. I have rotated the doctors and nurses so everybody is getting some rest. And we are clearing some spaces by being able to release some of the lighter wounded."

Miramon nodded at the Acting-CMO, speaking up as soon as she had finished. He'd had opportunity to talk to her earlier, and since both she and the brevet Captain were both professional counselors themselves, he was always inclined to listen to their assessments of the situation, regardless of whether they related to his job or not.

"Crew morale, as expected, isn't exactly on a high point right now.

The majority of the command staff we now have aren't officers originally stationed to the Exeter, and that'll be a significantly difficult transition for most of the crew to make. Obviously they're used to their own officers, and we really don't have time to wean the crew additions in gradually, given the state we're in. I expect we'll be looking to the remaining Exeter command crew to help with that. Oh, and while I'm here, can I please lodge a formal protest? One counselor for a ship this size? Especially with an inexperienced crew, that's ridiculous."

"Speaking as someone who was very recently in your place I can appreciate your concerns and they're duly noted," Elessidil replied.

"Had the Exeter been dispatched with its full complement of counseling staff things would undoubtedly be better, but unfortunately we can only make due with what resources we have under the circumstances.

I'm afraid I can't be of much help with counseling at the moment. Lieutenant," Brian said, turning toward Gwen, "I realize you have plenty going on in Medical, but with your counseling training if you can lend any assistance to Lieutenant Terrik it would be greatly appreciated. Perhaps the two of you can work something out that could allow you to at least work with any crew in sickbay who might be in need of counseling?"

"We have already discussed it, and I have told the Lieutenant that I would be more than willing to help out were needed, sir. I am sure that after this meeting we can work on the details." She looked at Miramon.

"Always do what the Doctor orders, right?" Miramon said with a smile.

"Tasks at Hand" -- pt. 2

(Brevet) Cpt. Brian Elessidil -- CO

Lt. Brendan Mullen (NPC) -- XO

Lt. Gwen Parri -- Acting Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Saul Bental -- Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. Miramon Terrik -- Chief Counseling Officer
Lt. John Barrett (NPC) -- Acting Chief Engineer
Lt. Rico Gear -- Asst. Chief Security Officer
Ens. Lydia Montgomery (NPC) -- Security/Second Officer
Ens. Marcus Slayton -- Asst. Chief Engineer
Ens. David Walker -- Chief Navigation Officer
Tech. SGT Kaylee Slayton -- Chief of Hangar Ops

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

Conference Room, USS Exeter

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

Rico was quiet for a time, attempting to look interested when curious glances came his way. He wasn't quite sure what role the security department could play in all of this. There was a nice hole where the barracks used to be and the engineers had their work cut out on the ship's vital systems. Perhaps they could help stem the chaos by assisting the other departments. He wasn't sure.

"Well.." he interjected, "Security is at your disposal.." he sat back up into his chair. "We need to relocate the department headquarters as there isn't much left of anything down there. I've sealed off the section and we have a few teams ready to lend a hand where it's needed. As far as repairs go we need a spacedock."

"Lieutenant, coordinate with Medical and make sure that we've accounted for all missing or dead crew. I'd also like you to work with Ensign Montgomery to review all evacuation protocols and procedures and make sure the entire department is familiar with them.

I want us to be able to respond as quickly and orderly as possible to minimize injury and loss of life if we have to evacuate areas of the ship again due to structural damage or life support failure," the captain ordered.

Marcus looked up from his notes, "I've managed to get life support going in about forty percent of the ship where we lost it utterly and the phasers are back to full power, sir." he said before looking over at the brevet captain.

"That's progress, so I'll take it," Elessidil responded. "Keep on it.

Please add that to your list, Lieutenant Gear. Organize a security team to work with Engineering to conduct detailed diagnostics and manual reviews, if necessary, of all escape pods to ensure that they're functionally sound in the event of a catastrophic evacuation," Brian added as an afterthought.

"How optimistic." Saul murmured quietly.

"Better a prepared pessimist than a dead optimist, Saul," Brian replied flatly, finding himself vaguely annoyed by the sarcasm he would have expected to have heard from Lt. Mullen.

Marcus picked up the PADD with the Exeter's status schematic on it and scrolled through a side panel of searches until he found the right item and handed the PADD to the CENG of the ship silently in order to give him a good idea of how bad things were on that level.

"Navigation got off light, at least from a personnel standpoint,"

reported David Walker, who was among the many transplant officers now on the Exeter's command staff, albeit temporarily. "The former Chief Navigator was killed in action during the battle, and several noncoms were lost when the enlisted barracks were destroyed, but the majority of the department is intact." The fact that he was just an ensign did not sit well with several of the Exeter's surviving helm officers, but even so, David was still the most experienced navigator currently serving on the ship, not including Lieutenant Terrick.

David wasn't going to let a few ill-mannered people make things difficult for him, though. It was very possible that he and his fellow replacements could be here for a long time, so his new subordinates would just have to get used to having him in charge.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try and get to know them better, find out how best to work alongside them while he was here.

The Alaskan leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on the edge of the meeting table and clasping his hands together. "However, the Exeter's impulse drive and maneuvering thrusters suffered some damage during the battle," he continued. "Right now we can't go any faster in sublight than half-impulse, and only about half of the saucer section's RCS thrusters are currently working at full capacity.

"The impulse drive was leaking a small amount of plasma radiation until recently," Walker added. He turned to face Lieutenant Parri.

"I'm preparing a list of navigation crewmen who may have been affected by it during repairs, so you and your staff can check them for any signs of radiation poisoning and treat them accordingly," he said. "I recommend the same be done for the engineers who took part in stopping the leak."

"Yes of course." Gwendolyn said. "I was not aware of this problem, I will get on it as soon as this meeting ends, for radiation poisoning it is very important to start the treatment as soon as possible." In fact she wanted nothing more than to leave and start it right now.

Saul, who lost focus on the meeting up until that moment, focused his attention upon hearing the words 'radiation poisoning'. The voices from the Challenger's flight recorder were still a fresh, shocking memory.

He wondered what would the Commodore, Commander Mulavre, Commander Schneider and their comrades who died fighting the Romulans would think if they knew that two centuries later, their successors bled in defense of ch'Rihan.

In his own mind, Brian repeatedly reviewed the reports he'd been hearing, thinking that despite the fact there was still a lot to do, it seemed to be in good hands.

"Lieutenant Mullen, you've been rather quiet. Is there anything you'd like to report?" Elessidil asked, making a conscious effort to keep the ship's first officer from being overlooked.

"I have nothing to add," the younger man replied, the slightest hint of a terse edge in his voice. He smiled in what was clearly an artificial gesture that suggested dissatisfied compliance. "It looks like your officers have everything under control."

Brian inhaled steadily, willing himself not to confront the highest-ranking remaining officer of the Exeter's original crew in the middle of a senior staff meeting. "Very well," he calmly replied.

Turning his attention to the other officers gathered in room, he set aside his annoyance with Mullen for the moment. "If there's nothing further to discuss, I'd say we all have plenty to do. I don't think I have to remind everyone that time is of the essence. Captain M'Kantu has made it clear that we will be engaging the Hydrans again; unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of knowing exactly when or where that will be, so we need to be prepared as soon as possible.

Keep the communication flow open within your departments and among each other and inform me immediately of any problems or setbacks."

The captain turned once again to his first officer. "Lieutenant, a word please. Everyone else, dismissed."

"Offense/Counter-Offense"

(Front Lines of Love and War)

(7 days after the fleet withdraws)

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

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

****

Aerv's Mansion
ch'Rihan

****

Steven was about to lead a small team out on a mission and was busy checking his gear, like the three other members of the team. His boots were strapped, armor, dented as it was from his time aboard the ship and subsequent rough landing, was done up, and he was just checking his rifle when he failed to hear someone enter the room.

Having been part of the wildest ride from space in the escape pod, his arrival had stunned many, especially Faylin. She had practically thrown herself at him, professing what he had assumed was her love for him but he had been stupid enough to be honest with her, before she could speak, and now he hadn't seen her for almost three days. It had been a mistake to sleep with Kala, but he hadn't been in control of himself at the time. His mind and body had been full of strange Klingon medication and vast quantities of bloodwine and though that wasn't a valid excuse, it was the truth. He didn't want any secrets between them and now it had cost him dearly.

After she had stormed off, he had found himself sitting on a nearby cot for well over an hour, contemplating the sad turn of events that had befallen him since meeting her. Nearly dying four times, losing part of his toe, being bruised and battered, and still feeling pain in his abdomen. Despite her reaction and the two days of not seeing her, he still ached to be with her, to see and hold and be there for her.

But it seemed that wasn't going to happen.

He'd briefly met with Fork and Bran, the latter amazed at his arrival, while the former just slapped him on the shoulder, forcing Steven to wince at the pain it caused. Lieutenant London had noticed, but he had waved it off as nothing major. He'd told them what he knew about the fleet having been tarred and feathered as he was wont to say, and their withdrawal to gods knew where. They seemed to have known most of it, but there had been a little they hadn't known. What they were going to do with that information was up to them.

He was still medically unfit for duty, or so Doctors' Ventar and Burton had said, but as it happened, he was also, along with Dhani, Michael and Keldan, probably listed as MIA after their fun excursion through the damaged hull towards the vacuum of space, so he reasoned that that little detail didn't apply anymore. So, with two days rest and a little pain relief, he was finally being given the chance to be useful - leading a unit on a dangerous mission.

His rifle ready to go, he looked up at his team. Corporal Tahna, the Bajoran close quarters expert was his most experienced team member, and he hoped that the man was as good as he had heard. Private Sebastian Tancress, another short range weapons specialist, was one of the largest Terran he had ever seen. Standing at close to Seven feet tall the burly human seemed to defy the laws of physics with his quickness in combat. The last member, and the one he could read the least about was a Rihanna farmer from the southern region of the planet, who had been caught up in the attack while trying to sell his produce in the local market. Finding that he was adept at the firing of most weapons, he quickly aided the meager forces that had formed to repel the Hydran invaders.

Feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder, he turned from the unit to find Faylin standing before him, looking a little worn, but still as beautiful as he could remember. "Hi Fay." he said with a smile. Little did he know that smile was about to fade rapidly.

"Hi, we need to talk." One for getting even, in all practicality, Faylin led him over to a secluded spot.

"Okay, how about over here?" he pointed at an out of the way area, before following her to the marginally less crowded area. "What's on your mind?"

"Your still an asshole." Faylin whispered. Silence filled between them until the sound of a phaser rifle powering up led McAlister to turn her head.

"You came here, after two days of hiding, to tell me that?" He asked before being interrupted.

"Fay baby, get your butt over here. We gotta go." The large baritone voice called out.

Glancing at his expression as she powered up her own rifle, she smirked at Steven. Before she turned and took in the massive form of Lt. Thorne Price. "Maybe it's time to get even......in more ways than one."

The "Bear" as what he was affectionately nicknamed, approached Faylin, complete with a huge smile. She winked, knowing full well what was about to happen was going to knock Steven back. He deserved it. In one fell swoop, Price swept Faylin up in one arm, and with the other, latched on to her left cheek, giving it a slow, but steady squeeze.

"How's my hell cat?"

"Fine." She giggled, catching Steven's expression out of the corner of her eye. Sliding down the length of Bear, she arched her eyebrow as she now walked towards Steven. Leaning into him, she whispered.

"We are not all of what we appear to be, are we Jonas?"

"Apparently not Fay." Steven was shocked to say the least but tried to hide the emotion from her. He didn't know what game she was trying to play, but being a bitch seemed to be at the top of her list. So he'd made a mistake, but this... well, it sure seemed like she was living up to the reputation he had heard being whispered around. "So who's this? The next notch on your belt?" he asked, seething at the thought of anyone putting their hands on her.

"Yep, basically babe." She stated in a non challant manner.

"So, what, you're a merry-go-round where anyone who wants a go can just hop on?"

"Actually, I prefer to be called a shuttle...everyone gets a ride."

Faylin spat back.

"Cause you definitely aren't the woman I thought you were."

"Well, now." She stated, wrinkling up her nose. "That makes two of us, doesn't it?"

"There's a difference. I was zoned out on drugs and bloodwine. I didn't know what I was doing, but you, well, you obviously never liked me one bit. Not the vindictive shallow way you're acting."

"Uh huh." She pursed her lips, keeping totally cool.

"Go to hell, Faylin!" he practically spat the words out. "I don't know why I bothered coming here in the first place." Pivoting away, he left the two of them to make sweet pathetic whatever's and walked back to the men. They had a job to do. And Faylin could go jump.

She watched him walk away, placing her hands on her hips. Looking upwards at Bear, she smirked. "Gods, some people can not take a joke."

Bear nodded. "Faylin 2, Steven 0"

"Movers and Shakers" pt III

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
After the Recess

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

Mauricio slid into a chair next to Murdock, who had not risen from the table while the Security Council had adjourned. The Admiral had, instead remained in the Ra-Ghatoreii Room. He had no deliberating to do - though he'd made several preparatory calls from the room's comm system. The "Old Man", as he was known throughout Starfleet, wasn't surprised to see that Carneiro was the first to return. The two men had first met forty years ago, when Murdock was commanding Mauricio's brother, Oreias, on the original Cheyenne. Mauricio had just graduated from Oxford then and had just scored an internship with one of James Pennington's predecessors. "You know what they're doing, right, Vic?"

"'Course I do." Murdock replied. "Just because I dinna like politics doesn't mean I don't understand 'em. Can't figure if that makes me more of a fool or less o' one, though."

"No one likes war, especially one that is neither defensive nor offensive," the Brazilian said, "There's no real gain for their worlds or the Federation if we go and clear out the Hydrans and reestablish the Romulan Empire. We're allies, sure, and they'll owe us, sure, but they won't be under our control and Romulans have betrayed their allies in the past when it's suited them. War will be expensive, and right now, we're not directly threatened by the Hydrans. But, if we don't go to war, we let potentially millions of Romulans die, plus a few thousand of our own citizens, and we allow a major interstellar culture and military power crumble. The void left by that will apply unwanted pressures on the Federation, and it's likely we may be the next fuel stop for the Hydran war machine. And if that's true, then we'll be fighting within our own borders.

"It's a lose-lose situation, and that's the worst possible decision to offer a politician," Mauricio said. "They don't want to decide, they'd rather wait and see if the problem goes away by itself or worsens to the point where the decision will be easier to make. They'll never admit it, but deep down, they want you, as the leader of Starfleet, to decide. If it works out, then you'll be honored, and if it doesn't, then you'll be roasted, but the pressure will be off their backs."

"Aye." Murdock nodded. "And if it'd been left to me, I'd have sent every ship I could muster as soon as the Hydrans made their first attack." the Admiral said. "I might be in charge o' Starfleet, but I haven't the authority to send us to war. Not on my own, anyways."

Both men knew there was a good reason for that, after all - Starfleet were the servants of the Federation, not the other way around.

Anything further the two men might have said was lost as solo and in groups, the remaining members of the Security Council and the President (and their attendant staffs, of course) reentered the room.

Mauricio quickly leaned back in his chair, tossing his feet up onto the table as he redawned his disinterested character. President Bacco lost no time in calling the session back to order.

Though she had been quiet during the debate, Ra'ch B'ullhy had not been inactive. While the Tellarite, Vulcan, and Saturnian delegates had been fighting amongst themselves, - and in the successive recess, as well - the Damiani had been calling up status and readiness reports of Starfleet and her planetary military. The outlook was not good. She was the first to speak in the renewed session.

Her blue skin tinted a deeper shade of azure as the issues were being danced about on with no resolution. A recess? When people were dying every passing second? How callous. And Bacco's inability to call the delegates back when they dismissed themselves was only another show of the current President's failure to show confidence and executive action. Perhaps it was Ra'ch's best opportunity to run for the Presidency when elections were called in several weeks. She'd been President Pro Tempore during the aftermath of Tezwa; she had the experience. If she could only make arrangements to take on another mate - if not for political reasons - so that she would have support from her homeworld during the campaign...

"Madame President, I beg to differ." Her sharp falsetto voice broke the transition of conversations as the councilors went their separate ways. "I officially register my complaints about the processes of this council. We can come to a decision to take recess, but no decision on the fate of millions? What is more important? Our own agendas, or the impression we make on the Federation through indecision?"

"The request was a valid one, Councilor." Bacco replied coldly. The enmity between the President and the former candidate was well known in the Council. "And you can waste more of our time debating that, or we can get to the issue at hand."

"Here, here." Councilor Krim muttered under his breath, drawing a glance of agreement from Murdock.

"Riots and protests have been on our doorstep for well over a year now. Your term has already suffered from the fallout after Havras. Why do you hesitate on a plan of action now?"

"Ra'ch, I asked for discussion on the Romulan Question, not a personal campaign speech or a criticism of my term." Nan Bacco scored her grey eyes into the representative from Damiano. She knew about B'ullhy's ambitions. She'd made it more than obvious by arguing every single point in session, whether it be about altering staple shipments to Cardassia, or something as mundane as assigning new color schemes to her wardrobe (that one wasn't during a council session, but lunch).

"Be careful how you present your arguments. I want options, not opinions!"

B'ullhy nodded her head slightly, keeping the President in her line of sight out of the way of her fore-horn. She wouldn't want the Security Council getting the impression she was going to impale the de factoleader of the UFP like a fish on a spear. That wouldn't do at all. There was plenty of time for that, and the president was already doing enough damage on her own.

"My apologies on the misinterpretation, Madame President. It was not intended."

"Yes it was, Ra'ch. Now get on with it."

The Damiani smiled, her brilliant white teeth gleaming against her pale blue skin, the blush now gone. "How do we know the Hydrans are going to encroach on Federation space next? Have they announced they would? Has there been a formal declaration of war? I don't see our forces amassing along the border at all, and nothing that would instill a sense of defense over the past year, either. Why the sudden urge to blow the trumpets, as it were, and march off into another round of bloodshed? Especially when it was our fault in the first place."

"Excuse me?" Murdock asked incredulously. "Councilor, the Hydrans made their intentions clear at Havras. They made it clear when they made an alliance with the T'Kith'Kin Hive and the Breen Confederacy, powers both recognized as hostile to this Federation. They have left no doubt as to what they're plannin' - ye folks just refuse to see it!"

"Movers and Shakers" pt IV

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
After the Recess

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

"Excuse me?" Murdock asked incredulously. "Councilor, the Hydrans made their intentions clear at Havras. They made it clear when they made an alliance with the T'Kith'Kin Hive and the Breen Confederacy, powers both recognized as hostile to this Federation. They have left no doubt as to what they're plannin' - ye folks just refuse to see it!"

"Be that as it may, who are we to say we're in the right? Mayhap the Hydran group is only making sure to announce they're here to stay?

We've not been at formal war with them for centuries; the Romulans have been on the doorstep crossing into their boundaries far more recently than that. Just because we sent a taskforce to their planet to help them doesn't mean we have to enter a war. That was not part of the agreement. The Klingons are our allies, and by extension, the Romulans as well. Yet they don't enter the fray, even though their Reman allies are at risk. You could also make a case for the Klingons to join forces with the Hydrans as well, since it would be opportunistic for them to do so since the Lyrans are now off their back. But they do not. Why is it that we cannot continue the inaction we've propagated over the centuries and simply remain neutral, as the Klingons have?"

"Martok's got his own Council to deal with." Krim observed. Although he privately noted that when the Klingon Chancellor disagreed with one of his Councilors, he could simply kill them in single combat.

There was something to be said for that approach...

"Besides, there are Federation citizens trapped on Romulus that require rescuing," Mauricio said, sliding his feet from the table to the floor. "Some of us have relatives there."

"Oh, please. That is a selfish notion. If you hadn't any relatives on Romulus, would you be so fervent to return? Or are you abusing your power as a councilor to send the might of Starfleet for personal reasons? Don't deny that a few of you had been against the Federation going there in the first place." She huffed. "And now you want to send more forces to the region to 'save the people and prevent the invasion of the Federation'. How irresponsible."

T'Latrek speared the woman with an inscrutable stare. "It is not logical for you imply irresponsibility in honoring a treaty. 'The spear in the other's heart is in yours, you are he'."

"I should point out that I was originally in favor of sending the task force," Mauricio explained, laughing at the inappropriateness of the dig, "I am the only one here who represents a world with a methane atmosphere, after all. And, you're the one who uses 'diplomatic immunity' to get out of traffic violation tickets, so, you know, don't go throwing around the 'abusing your power as a councilor' shtick too easily."

B'ullhy frowned and continued, "We are not the Galactic Police, out to be the saviors of all that exists in the name of the Federation. It is not up to us to decide who is right and who is wrong. We all know it isn't that simple."

"However, Councilor, it is 'up to us', as you put it, to decide how best to move the combined forces of the Federation. It is 'up to us'

to decide to honour treaties that have been signed by the Federation and, by extension, your planet," T'Latrek pointed out.

"But it is not 'up to us' to decide when and what treaties to honor, Councilor." The Damiani refused to be baited, even as the attention had been drawn to her solely instead of the discussion. "By honoring a flash in the pan treaty with Romulus at the cost of breaking charters and trade pacts with others? What about our pact with Cardassia to send aid and personnel that was so undeniably broken to satisfy an urge to attend to another politician's needs of the moment?" Garak was still presenting his motions to increase assistance to the beleaguered planet. She cast a glance at Aldos, who remained impassive.

"What about the Rigellian trade routes we had promised to patrol to keep out the Orion Syndicate from taking advantage of the weakened economy of an ally we had yet another treaty with? And the Breen at lanjep? It's rather convenient to argue defense of a treaty - new as it is - when we can't even honor those we already have. Why, we even had an agreement with the Hydrans at one point. Why not honor that one? History shows that the Federation has a long pattern of casting alliances aside in the light of advantages with whatever politics of the day are prominent. By honoring a treaty with a government, you break several others in the process. The people are tired of war and battle. We're still rebuilding, and you wish to allocate resources from already vastly undefended and under supported territories within our own borders. The fact is, we simply can't afford to send more ships. Not at the cost of leaving entire systems without forces or personnel. Those are conditions of treaties that were signed on their entry into the Federation. And here you intend on breaking those for one government?" Ra'ch shook her head, blinking once. Her voice ratchet up a notch as she completed her statement. "The Council is already at a volatile point; if the Security Council makes a decision to advance more forces without due process of the rest of the delegates, you had best be prepared for repercussions that we may never recover from."

"Ra,ch" James Pennington interrupted, finally speaking up. "Such staments show a rediculous level of naviete that I know better than to expect from you. Your points have nothing to do with the discussion at hand, and frankly, are contradictory. No matter your beleifs, there is clear benefit to our putting a stop to the Hydran advance here and now, while they are in someone else's territory. You're so concerned about resources? Imagine the losses when the Hydran Armada is stampeding through Federation space instead. We must act now," he continued passionately, "Or we face a far greater cost father down the road. What would you have us do?"

"Withdraw our forces," B'ullhy said. "If you're all so anxious to call a recess to discuss whatever deals amongst yourselves to suit personal agendas, then call a recess on the battle as well. Enter political discussions with the Hydrans and determine what it is we can do to rebuild a relationship with them."

Diana Thrace, Centauran Ambassador, nodded. "I agree, with Councilor B'ullhy on her first point, actually. That's why I asked for a recess.

My granddaughter is out there. If I am to bring her home or send her to her death, then it must be for the greater good of the Federation.

It cannot be for my own personal reasons."

She frowned and smoothed her jacket. "I disagree with her second point, however. To do what she asks denies the Federation's responsibility as stated not in one, but in three treaties. We must do our best to honor those treaties with the Rihannsu. There is no question in the matter in my eyes."

"And there is no question that we must honor older treaties as well. I stand by those agreements. I will not support an agenda that will put more of our people at risk, and a political fallout that will give the appearance we are favoring the Romulans over our own long-standing allies." B'ullhy leaned back and crossed her arms in defiance.

The Andorian councillor sighed in her angst; she had always considered the Damianan councillor to be essentially useless, not to mention demonstrably spineless. "Rebuild a relationship? Certainly the Hydrans were once on friendly terms with us, but that was over seventy years ago. As long as they ally themselves with oppressive regimes led by two-bit dictators, we will not sit idly by and allow them to slaughter us and our allies. They have murdered repeatedly attacked our forces, they have murdered Judari, they have murdered Lyrans, and now they murder the Rihannsu. We may not be at war with them, but they are certainly at war with us."

"Again, I ask. Where is the formal declaration? Does this mean we are also at war with the Borg, even though we have a treaty with them as well? Or the Dreshayans, because they broke away from the Federation in anger over bureaucratic indecision? Or the Ontailians, for what did with the Juno? Or the Remans, who we do not have a formal treaty with? Beings are murdered all over the galaxy, Councilor. It still does not make us the Galactic Police, as I've previously stated, riding to the rescue of all who *we* think need it.

It sounds invariably arrogant to believe that just because a government decides to embattle our forces or a planetary system, doesn't mean we can't take responsibility for the ensuing action. The Klingons are a perfect example, or should we assume they are at war with us, too? They killed millions, as have the Romulans. And so have we. All in the name of justice and the Federation Way. I'd be increasing battle readiness if I were a non-Federation system as well.

You never know when we will come riding in our chariots with guns blazing in the name of justice. Or so the perception would be. You can't possibly believe with all the wars we've been getting ourselves into, with immense loss of life and resources, that outside systems would be wanting to jump in with us, would you? And here I thought we were promoting peaceful co-existence with our neighbours. Actions speak louder than words, councilor."

"Absolutely right." Pennington argued. "And backing away now will merely show the entire Quadrant that the Federation is nothing more than a bunch of weak, self-serving fools who run at the first sign of trouble. Not only will we loose all respect from our current allies, we will be hampered by any future attempts, as well. We *must* live up to our treaty obligations, or every treaty we have ever signed."

B'ullhy spoke again. "I've looked into our tactical situation. There isn't much in the way of stopping the Hydrans from advancing if we lose the rest of the taskforce. The nearest capital ships are days away from the border. And that would open up other borders with 'two-bit' dictators and smugglers that would love the opportunity to pass unhindered into Federation space. It is not feasible to sacrifice the remnants of our forces to satisfy a personal agenda. Save face, and retreat. Increasing our casualty list for the sake of a 'strong front' only weakens our stance down the line. If the Hydrans destroy the remnants of our forces there, what's to stop them from growing more confident that they can win? Take the losses and regroup on our side of the border. Open talks with them. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement to have our people returned from Romulus."

"Councillor," Admiral Murdock interrupted. "Kindly leave the military analysis to those of us qualified to do so. I know how to run my fleet."

Zh'Faila's antennae twitched in irritation. "Arrangement?!? You would allow Starfleet personnel to languish in prison camps while you trade pleasantries over tea? Negotiating with people who attacked us first - and repeatedly, I might add - does nothing to dissuade them from further assaults. And that does nothing to address their current slaughter of innocent Romulans."

"Innocent??" B'ullhy's ire got her horns flushing. "They've been annexing and conquering systems for far longer than Earth has been in any form of advanced civilized behavior! They've subjugated entire cultures. The Remans alone are the biggest and most visual example!

They took over Remus and immediately put the Remans into slavery, mining dilithium chambers in highly toxic environments! They treated them no differently than Earth during up to the 18th century, and you call them innocent? They would sooner slit y our throat than ask for your help, and they do NOT deserve your pity, nor do I doubt they want it. Do not paint or apply your own values as anothers. They are far from innocent, just as you and I are."

"Movers and Shakers" pt V

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

Ambassador Aerv tr'Ahalaen (recording)

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

The Ra-Ghatoreii Room
Top Floor, Palais de la Concorde
Paris, Earth, UFP
After the Recess

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

"Innocent??" B'ullhy's ire got her horns flushing. "They've been annexing and conquering systems for far longer than Earth has been in any form of advanced civilized behavior! They've subjugated entire cultures. The Remans alone are the biggest and most visual example!

They took over Remus and immediately put the Remans into slavery, mining dilithium chambers in highly toxic environments! They treated them no differently than Earth during up to the 18th century, and you call them innocent? They would sooner slit y our throat than ask for your help, and they do NOT deserve your pity, nor do I doubt they want it. Do not paint or apply your own values as anothers. They are far from innocent, just as you and I are."

"And again you show your hypocrisy!" Krim exploded from across the table. "You would hold an entire species responsible for every act in it's history? How clean are your people's hands, Councilor?"

"Let the Romulans deal with their own problems. We are not their saviors, and they'll never see it as such even if it were. Or do you want to 'come to the rescue' of every planetary power that overextends itself? It makes no sense, other than it looks like the Federation waits until a war breaks out and *then* helps a planet. We need to re-allocate our resources to continuing to rebuild and assist existing planets that already give to the Federation. Otherwise you take the chance of creating another Hydran revolt. It's what we did to them centuries ago, and we're only encouraging it to happen again with our own territories, as is evident by many representatives in session who are already crying foul, such as the Gryphon Coalition, and many others I know you're aware of."

The Centauran Ambassador stood and for the first time she raised her voice. "It is not a simple matter of tactics now, it is a matter of our effacy as a galactic power. If we do not honor our treaties with the Rihannsu, then others will know that we don't honor our treaties, that we make them for our own convenience. Is that the kind of people we are in the Federation? Are we a government of treaties and talks when they suit us, or do we mean what we say? Let us ask the Rihannsu to join us more formally, then, if you're so worried about who is giving to the Federation and who is not. They are already our allies, or does that fact mean nothing to this council?"

"You simply echo my own sentiments, Ambassador." B'ullhy smiled again, her teeth drawn back under brightly painted lips. "Yet you also cater to dishonoring treaties with current members and protectorates for the sake of a people that will likely not return the favor. I would put it to you to think about if the tables were turned. Do you honestly believe you'd see Warbirds in orbit defending our way of life? And I doubt they will even if we liberate their planet and we invite a war we are not prepared for with the Hydrans and their allies as a consequence. The citizens of the Federation do not want another war, as evident by protests Federation-wide on our own worlds and here on Earth. You send Starfleet reinforcements, and you're going to see ripples of those actions that will turn into tidal waves we will be unable to control. It will be a civil action that will make a military action pale in comparison."

She paused, glancing at the military data in front of her. It did look grim, but it was not hopeless, by any stretch, not if it were handled correctly. "Vulcan, who has the most reason not to approve our honoring our treaty, approves honoring it. I find it strange that the Councilor from Damiano, a planet known for its marital history, has joined the call for such a pricy peace, one that costs the Federation her reputation, seemingly at the hope protecting our forces, but it's not. She asks us to abandon our ally at the hope of gaining military advantage. What we have to ask ourselves is, is this what is best for this Federation?"

"No, I am reminding you that we are abandoning our current allies for a war we cannot afford to engage in. We are stretched too thin as it is."

The Centauran woman raised her voice again, to prevent another interruption.

"I would finish." She let her voice fall back to it's previous level.

"Reputation is a military advantage, too, and if we vote not to go to the aid of our ally, not to go to the aid of the troops we've already committed, then we lose reputation with our allies and with our own military forces. This council has already lost face with Andor and with Vulcan, two planets that founded our great Federation. Centauri makes the third. She stands with them and calls for the Federation to support her allies. Centauri still remembers who what Federation is, and why we came together in the first place. We had ideals in those days. Do we still have them now? Ask yourselves, honored Councilors: who is the Federation? Why are we together? When you can the answer that, you will understand why we are obligated to help our allies."

The slender Vulcan woman nodded slightly in Diana Thrace's direction.

"Vulcan concurs with our Centauran colleague."

Zh'Faila looked warmly - or as warmly as she ever did - at the other two women. "You know my mind. Andor concurs."

"Damiano does not. We will not support another military action. We are about exploration and rebuilding relationships with current political delegations that are still unhappy with the economics of the Federation from the last war. Internal strife must be addressed, so that we can stand united, not bullying and supporting another Manifest Destiny. We must look inward first, before looking outward."

President Bacco looked to the side as one of her aides rushed in with a PADD. Taking her attention away from Councillor Bullhy's oratory, she quickly scanned the summary, and looked up. "Excuse me, Councilor, but I must interrupt." she said, and held the PADD out demonstratively. "Members of the Security Council. This PADD contains a missive from a member of the Romulan Diplomatic Corps, addressed to this Council. If there's no objections - well, frankly, even if there are, I intend to view this now."

She then slipped the PADD into the reader on the table in front of her, and a four-walled holographic display sprang to life over the table.

The holographic image of the Rihannsu Ambassador, transmitted from the Aehallh, appeared before the Federation Council. There he stood, alone, a young man with sharp, handsome features, his long dark hair loose around his face. In his left hand, there was a beautiful, ornate sword. He looked, in fact, like a ancient warrior from Earth's own history, wearing only what appeared to be a black hakama, his scarred chest visible to all. It was a strange, humble choice, for a man of wealth and fashion. Yet that how he chose to come before the most powerful government in the universe, their people, their Fleet and every person watching this historic broadcast.

He spoke with quiet conviction, with simple intensity, with the proud humility of a man beaten, but not defeated.

-----------

"I am Aerv tr'Ahalaen."

"I am a Blade of the Declared."

"I am a man obsessed with beauty, with art and artifice. Those of you who know me, know that this is true. Like my people, I deal in webs of words, in images, in subtle suggestions and whispered secrets. I am Rihannsu, so like my people, I stand behind a mask of impenetrable perfection, determined to let no one see my flaws, my scars...."

"I come before you now, across the veils and shadows that have separated our people for so long, to admit that I am flawed. I am scarred. So are the Rihannsu."

"I am not here to plead with you for the innocent left on ch'Rihan.

The soldiers you would send us, who would die for an alien world, would they also not be innocent? Their families, their lovers, their friends...all innocent. I have not come before you to invoke the merciless scales of Libra, to weigh out the value of my people, their numbers, against yours. There is no purpose in that...and worse, there is no dignity in it."

"I stand before you, my scars exposed, to urge you to do as I have done, as the Rihanssu have done: take off your masks. When you vote to decide the fate my world, do not vote as Hawks and Doves. Speak true, speak for who you are, not for the image the comfort of which you seek to hide behind."

"Speak as Terrans, who make heroes of meek men put to the cross for the sins of others. Speaks as Vulcans, who had Surak to tell them, that 'the spear in the other's heart is the spear in yours, you are he'. Speak for Betazed, where it is said that 'one who speaks one thing and thinks another, has a war inside'. Speak for Andor, for Delta, for Tellar.... Speak, if you will, motivated by a desire for vengeance against my people. Speak - if you can speak for nothing else

- with hatred for the Rihannsu. What I beg of you is simply this:

speak true."

"For no matter what you decide today, this is more about you - about the identity of your people - than it about the Rihannsu. I say this now for I have seen my world broken, its pride, its mask shattered. I have seen the decay that was eating away at the flesh underneath that mask boil to the surface. I have seen the desperate poor, the cowardly leaders, the common cruelty, the lack of hope...and I have learned. I have learned that there is an end to all things and when that end comes, no mask, no image, protects you from who you are."

"I am Rihannsu. That is who I am. And after today, no matter how the history of this time is written, every heart, every tongue, will know it."

"When this day is over, and the sky is stained with blood, who will you be? When your world is fading and the course of time has run, who will you be?"

"I am Aerv tr'Ahalaen."

"And today, I kneel before you my pride, my life, my soul...all for the Declared."

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

"Caraca!" Maurcio laughed, clapping from the back corner of the room.

"That's it, I'm hiring a Romulan to be my speech writer!"

The blue-skinned councillor stood up, almost deliberately. "That was no speech," zh'Faila said, "It was an appeal. Andor reiterates; we're going to help the fleet. When the rest of you are done endangering Federation lives, you're welcome to come along."

With no further word, she motioned to her aides, and the entire Andorian delegation left the chamber.

"Movers and Shakers" pt VI

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
After the Recess

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

The blue-skinned councillor stood up, almost deliberately. "That was no speech," zh'Faila said, "It was an appeal. Andor reiterates; we're going to help the fleet. When the rest of you are done endangering Federation lives, you're welcome to come along."

With no further word, she motioned to her aides, and the entire Andorian delegation left the chamber.

Tomorok watched as the Andorian delegation departed, and eyed the rest of the room. It was obvious where Vulcan and Centauri would stand, as it was obvious where those members of the dove faction that he cast his vote with most often would stand. This moment might well break the Federation that he cared so little for, might make it just another page to be turned in the history books of whoever survived the coming war with the Hydrans. All it would take would be a nudge, just a small push to send the Federation into the ashes of history. and his could be the hand that toppled it with a single word. But should he? The Hydrans would conquer his people more easily than they had the Romulans or the Lyrans - and no one would lift a hand to help them if he voted against supporting the treaty. But if he voted *to* support the treaty.. That might do it. That might break the Federation. and still leave him able to petition one of the more militarily powerfulpowers for assistance in defense. And if it didn't, if the Federation remained strong. well, there would be other days, other moments. "The Rigel Colonies," he spoke up into the silence of the Andorian departure, "move to stand by the treaties that we have signed, even if it means war."

"At the behest of those you are supporting to break? So be it." Ra'ch B'ullhy stood up. "Damiano stands against the action, and we formally declare neutral status on the Council. I formally denounce this military action, and will be deporting all Starfleet and Federation representatives from our world if this action goes forward, and freezing economic trade with all worlds who support this action. You have all signed your death warrants, and history will remember you all as those that ended the Federation as it once stood. From a historical testament to peace and exploration, to the beating drums of war and ignorance. I look forward to the next open session of the Council. I hope you all do too, and see what price you have paid for your arrogance." And with that, the Damiani female marched out the chamber doors, her procession flowing into step behind her. She never looked back.

The representative of Cait, who had until this time remained silent, sighed slightly.

"It is with great reluctance," Dynkorra M'Relle said softly "that Cait agrees to go to war. The Hydran threat demands it, however, we are disturbed by the prescedent that this action may set for the future.

Our union of planets was not intended for warfare and I fear that

*some* may see this course as a new change in policy for the Federation. But- Cait will go to war."

There was a long, ponderous silence before the declaration was answered. "My friends - I'm sorry. Delta IV cannot condone this action at this time, but we will not turn our backs on the men and women who have fought to honor our given word, and we will not abandon the possibility of a peaceful resolution to the conflict - regardless of the threat of consequences we face from within our own ranks.".

Councilor Eleana gave the representative from Damiano a look of gentle disappointment. "My staff and I will press for dialogue with the Hydrans, starting with the more independent Colony Worlds. I will not paint each Hydran with the same brush - they are a race of independent thinkers, and I believe many can be reasoned with. I don't feel comfortable risking more lives unneccessarily until we have exhaused every attempt at peaceful discourse - something we, each of us here, have failed in. For the fleet? Delta IV will send hospital ships and transports to the Rihannsu border... but we will not cross that thin red line."

"Clearly," the President noted, "There is nothing left to do but take a formal vote. Admiral?"

The unspoken request was for Murdock to vacate the room - he could participate in the discussions, but only voting members of the Council, and the President (who only voted in the case of a tie) could be present.

He started to leave without any further comments, but as he stopped at the door, he turned to address the Council. "Ye all heard what that Ambassador said. I know the Romulan's reputation as well as any Admiral in this Fleet, and I tell you know, that was an honest plea for help. We cannot allow that tae fall on deaf ears, because that will diminish all of us irrevocably. Make yuir vote. But do it right.

Don't do it for politics, or for the favors it'll get ye. Vote on what ye think is right."

And without another word, he left.

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

Ten minutes later.

President Bacco was the first to exit the room. She met eyes with the Admiral, her stony expression betraying nothing.

Murdock prepared himself for the worst.

"Admiral Murdock," the President said in an official tone. "By order of the Security Council, you are hereby authorized to use any and all measures necessary to restore the Romulan government to their homeworld, and retreive our personell. The use of full military force by Starfleet against the Hydran Star Kingdom is hereby approved.

Formal orders will be transmitted to your office shortly.. "

Victor shook his head at the news. "Never thought I'd be so pleased with the decision to send folks into battle. With yuir permission, Madame President, I intend to take personal command of the fleet."

"I hadn't expected any less of you, Victor. Go. Get your ships. Bring our people home."

"As ordered, Madame President." the old Scotsman replied, and then turned his mind away from politics - and towards war.

"Passions"

Lieutenant Shiarrael Llaiir tr'Khnialmnae
Chief Tactical Officer USS Miranda

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

Personal Log

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

My home is shattered.

My Family is shattered.

My Captain is dead, the crew as shell shocked as I in light of such an event.

All that is or was important to me has been destroyed, systemically in some ways and haphazardly in others, leaving naught but a hollow shell of existance to look forward to, provided I survive the next engagement, or the battle after that, et all Infinitum.

Should someone inquire of me as to the status of my department, I cannot consciously provide an answer. I know how Miranda was when the retreat was sounded, but I cannot recall much since then. From what I have seen and heard, Lieutenant K'aa has acted admirably in my stead while I have been so out of sorts.

My father was alive, even if only for a few scant moments via subspace radio comunications: after so long, my Family lived again and not in the disgrace and dishonor I had been told of. He is lost to me again, and the loss of both Family and Home has shaken me to the core.

I am Shiarrael, sole known survivor of the Khnialmnae Family. By definition, this places me in a position I am loath to accept the responsability for, yet am compelled to by mnhei'sahe to assumme.

There is a possibility that my father still lives, but at present it is best to presume he has not survived. Regardless, the remaining members of the Senate require the voice of the house Khnialmnae. I do not wish to depart from my duties aboard the Miranda permanently, but untill the fleet marks course back to ch'Rihan, there will be times my presence is required elsewhere.

I must inform Commander Jaxom of my current political status. Untill then, it's high time I returned to work fully cognizant of all that is occuring about me.

End Log.

"Other Duties"

Commander Jaal Jaxom

Lieutenant Shiarriel t'Khnialmnae

Technically she was off duty. Shiarrael had been working for who knew how many hours with her department without any real breaks, albeit allowing K'aa to take the reigns as she struggled with her own inner demons concerning the loss of her homeworld and family. A report had been compiled and sent up with the current status of the equipment, systems, and personnel under her perview: everything had improved since the retreat. After some hours of soul searching, Shia had come to a disturbing conclusion. However, certain factors in her life called for certain actions, regardless of the consequences. After sleeping on it, the Miranda's Chief Tactical officer didn't feel any better about the subject matter, but it wasn't as hard to make the decision to act upon it as the night prior. A trip to the replicator fabricated the appropriate garb: the robes and uniform of a Rihannsu Senator. Sheathed at her hip sat the sword her Family had held since departing Vulcan: a s'harien, one of the scant few taken with the Sundering. When all was set, she looked to the door of her quarters.

"Computer, where is Captain Jaxom?"

"Captain Jaxom is in his quarters," came the computer's reply.

It was there that Jaal was having a discussion with his sister about the most recent events. As much as he hated politics he understood them and now had to help Janeen understand. The door chime interrupted, "C'mon in," Jaal replied.

The doors swished open and Shiarrael stepped forward enough to allow them to close behind her. "Captain, I apologize for the interruption, but I have a matter of importance that warrants immediate review in concerns to my current political status."

Jaal looked at the chief tactical officer in her Rihannsu garb with a slightly raised eyebrow. Then he looked to his sister, "Janeen, we'll have to continue this later."

"Okay." Janeen cast Shia a curious glance and made her way for the door. Once it slid shut again Jaal turned his full attention to the woman before him. "What's up?"

"Prior to the arrival of the Hydrans within the Eisn solar system, I received a communication from the surface. It was my father. He informed me that he was returning to actively participate within the Senate. Also indicated was my own status within the Rihannsu

government: I am no longer considered an outcast, free to return as I wished." She paused here, restructuring her thoughts for a moment before continuing. "With the fall of ch'Rihan, many senators have either run like hlai to their own worlds or did not make it off of the surface. As the only known survivor of the Khnialmnae family, it falls to me to present a voice within the remaining Senate; my presence will not be opposed."

Jaal considered that information for a long time. It certainly explained the way she was dressed. "Sounds like good news," he said quietly. Next, spoke of his most pressing concern, "What does that mean for your duties aboard this ship?"

"Lieutenants K'aa and Daniels have been managing the majority of the finer details of the department since the battle, sir," she responded, having anticipated this line of inquiry. "My responsibilities as Senator will require my presence off ship from time to time to meet with the remainder of the Senate. When we redeploy to ch'Rihan, I will be at my post. A senator aboard a senior vessel of the task force will speak loudly in your favor for many issues."

Jaal rubbed his chin in thought. She was right, that was for sure. His eyes narrowed cautiously as he spoke again. "I'm not doubting in the least the strength and resolve of the Rihannsu people... but... you realize there might not be a senate to go back to at this point?"

She nodded. "The Praetor and Empress are both within the system, and according to the latest information I have obtained, at least 37% of the total senate is in system as well." The next was the hardest statement she'd ever had to utter. "I must submit a motion to the Praetor and remaining senators for the immediate recall of all senators not on ch'Rihan and the assembling of all remaining forces within one week's travel. Knowing the political quagmire that is the Rihannsu senate, I have little doubts that the Federation government is composed of similar individuals and power structures; I can do little more than pray to the Elements that they will consent to send us additional vessels. Other measures must be decided upon by the Senate, but at this time they are beyond my position."

Jaal nodded slowly. "I understand completely." He was quiet again while he thought of what to say or ask next. "When you leave the ship for your familial duties I want to know when and where you're going and when you'll be back. I know it sounds mother hennish of me but with so many others missing at the moment I intend to keep track of all my officers and crew. Understood?"

"I understand, Captain. However, my time of return will be little more than conjecture, politics being what they are." Truth be told, a part of her would have been supremely overjoyed if he had declined her this path. Captain Jaxom was an honorable man, worth of her respect:

all conditions aside, his acceptance of her duties displayed his confidence in her. Mnhei'sahe would be poorly served if she were to let him down.

Jaal nodded with an understanding smirk appearing on his lips. "Just let me know as soon as you know. That will be good enough."

"As you wish, Captain," Shia said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "At this time, I intend to travel to the Praetor's warbird for an audience. If there is nothing else, sir?"

"What kind of tactical information has turned up about that little pet of the Hyrdans?" the Trill commander asked. It had been a little too long for his comfort level since the last report.

"Galaxy's Vanguard fighter unit consented to the installation of their Intelligence department's proposed information gathering devices. The data transmitted back in realtime during the battle is currently still under analysis by both ship's intelligence and tactical departments.

I'm certain other departments wishing for information, such as sciences, medical, or engineering, wouldn't have a difficult time obtaining their own copies." She'd seen to THAT little tidbit herself

- the more people had all of this, the better off they were in the end. "While I am 'across the border,' so to speak, I'll see what I can get from the Rihannsu fleet, arrange a sharing of ideas and information pertinent to this conflict."

Jaal nodded his approval. "Good. I won't hold you up then... good luck."

Shiarrael came to attention and presented him with the Rihannsu salute. "Jolan'tru, Captain."

"Heart of the Federation"

Featuring, from the IKS T'Kengra;

Captain Qel

Lieutenant (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe – Engineering
Assistant IKS T'Kengra Medical Officer
Mortan (written by Rob Snow)

And from the USS Galaxy;

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy
Ensign Keldan - Operations Officer, USS Galaxy
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

"It is said that no-one can oppose the beating of two Klingon hearts. That may be so, but there is another that beats just as strong, just as hard and just as loud, if not louder; The Heart of the Federation." - Drusilla Ekata, Stardate 50610.28 -

***Location; Sick Bay, IKS T'Kengra***

(Set one day after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas', directly after "Wings of Salvation" Pt 2)

Steven wasn't so surprised by the news. He had seen how the battle was progressing briefly through the crack in the hull, and it hadn't been looking so good. He was bummed that the Hydrans would focus all their effort on ch'Rihan; Fay was down there, along with his platoon and he wanted to be there to help them. He highly doubted that he'd be able to beam down, the Romulans and Hydrans would no doubt continue with all manner of Transport inhibitors and the like.

Dhanishta swallowed the lump that stuck in her throat. It threatened to sever her vocal chords forever. Her eyes misted and she began to feel a little faint, the Galaxy had withdrawn, the entire fleet had lost and departed, Romulas was now in Hydran control. She squeezed Michaels hand as her eyes stared out across the decking.

Michael sat on the edge of his BIO-bed and looked down at the floor. The fleet had been decimated...and the Hydrans, they just went on and on! He swallowed. Even that gigantic fleet of the Federation had not been enough was hard to believe, but it was true. He wondered what options were left to beat those monsters back.

Keldan continued to sit on the bed, carefully pulling his feet up into a cross-legged position. It may not have gone well for the fleet, but the Galaxy was at least still in one piece. They would be back to fight again, he had no doubt. His headache was beginning to subside and he found it a little easier to concentrate. What was the next step? Was

even getting back to the Galaxy a possibility at this point? He felt his ire rise at the thought of the Hydrans and tried to push it back down. What was important was that they were safe, at least for the moment. He looked around at the others and marvelled at how instantly he felt the need to safeguard the lives of his crewmates.

The severity of the situation sunk in quicker than Dhanishta expected. Still licking her own wounds she looked up and locked eyes with her sister, her determination clear in her gaze, her voice found a new resolution of clarity, "I am not sitting here throughout this war." she said firmly.

"I hope not." Mortan muttered darkly, "I will likely need the room!"

Just as Dhanishta made her declaration the doors to Sick bay opened and Qel strode through. He was a formidable man, projecting the strength and suppressed anger that his race were well documented for. Pausing in the doorway his dark hostile eyes roamed the room, taking note of everyone's positions. Looking at Mortan he grunted his acknowledgment of the man's presence.

Silently returning the acknowledgement, Mortan moved off to continue his duties leaving Qel to speak with their new passengers.

Qel's permanent scowl lightened as his eyes crossed over Dhanishta's upright body, "I would expect no less from a daughter of mine." he greeted her with a row of tangled teeth that constituted a smile. Crossing the room in three swift strides he pulled the small Trill into an embrace, completely lacking in tenderness as he hugged her tightly.

A moan of pain escaped her lips as the air was forced from her lungs. Steadying herself against Michael's bed she permitted a smile at Qel's warmth. "Thank you." she breathed in-between pangs of pain. "You have saved all our lives, and we are grateful for your hospitality." Her eyes flittered to Mortan for a moment, his previous comment not unnoticed. Even though he had all the grace and warmth of a stone, still, he had saved her life, and those of her closest friends. What he lacked in charm he made up for in skill.

Qel brushed off her gratitude, his modesty taking over. "If Kala had not broken regulations to beam you aboard, I would have myself." he admitted stealing a moment to glare at Kala for her unauthorized actions.

Kala noticed his look and bowed her head slightly in shame. Even though she knew he understood what she had done and the reasons why, she also knew of the deep disappointment he felt towards her. What was surprising is how guilty she felt for defying him. There was no need for him to scream and shout at her; just knowing that she had disobeyed him was punishment enough.

For a moment Qel allowed his gaze to flow over the dishevelled group that littered his sick bay, their faces bent with pain, pain that a warrior would not permit himself to show. It annoyed him to no end. Had it just been Dhanishta that Kala had saved things would have been easier. But no, she had to beam aboard his ship not just one, but four.

This put him into a situation, brought him into the conflict, a position that he could not and should not be in. His scowl returned, for he knew what they were going to do, what they would request of him. For it is exactly what he would do in their situation. And he could not help them.

Placing his hands on Dhanishta's shoulders he looked into her eyes, "Dhanishta," he began his voice low, "once our mission permits, I will take you and your friends back to Federation space. From there you will be able to contact your fleet, and if they have not been destroyed, you can arrange travel back to the Galaxy."

Dhanishta stared at him, a numbness creeping into her body. Maybe it was the fact that she was half Betazoid, or maybe it was simply because she knew the man standing before her better than her own father, "Qel?" she questioned quietly, returning his gaze with confusion.

"I have my orders from the High Council, Dhanishta. The Klingon Empire cannot fight in this conflict." he answered her, hoping to curb her request before she had even made it.

Dhanishta's eyes widened, "We can't just sit here Qel! We must fight." her voice rose slightly in pitch at the proposal that she would have to sit here and watch as the Federation crumbled, "They will go back, the war for Romulus is not over." she assured him, an urgency in her tone.

"That may be so." Qel replied straightening up, "And if they do I wish them luck. For they will need it." he added grimly.

Turning from her he addressed the group before him, "I have assigned you all temporary quarters for the duration of your stay." he began, feeling that the previous matter was closed. "If you get bored I am sure that So'Han would welcome your company in Engineering." he said casting a glance back to Dhanishta, "If you are anything like your sister, the T'Kengra will be purring…."

Dhanishta looked at the faces that surrounded her as Qel droned on, all of them rankled with pain from the injuries that they had sustained, she knew their hearts screamed out for retribution against the Hydran, just like her own did.

"We are going back." she said loudly cutting Qel off mid sentence, looking for unity in the eyes of her colleagues as she stood defiant before her Klingon 'father'.

Steven nodded. He wasn't a coward. He didn't cut and run from a fight. So what if the fleet retreated. They would be back. There were too many Federation people down on the planet to ignore. But fleeing with the Klingons and their Reman refugees wasn't something Steven wanted to be remembered for when stories were told about the battle for ch'Rihan.

Although Michael didn't say anything, with his eyes fixed on Qel it was not hard to see that he too was prepared to go back. Rather die fighting out there to defend the Federation and its ideals then stay here, do nothing, and wait for death to come for you.

Keldan nodded in silent agreement. They were here, now. They had to do something. They could remain safe with the Klingons, but they also had the option of striking back, an opportunity to cause more hurt and harm to an already hurt and harmed enemy. And that certainly had its appeal.

Kala looked down at the floor, she knew that her sister wouldn't lie here forever, taking care of herself was not on her priority list. It seemed as if Nishta had taken on the Vulcan philosophy, 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one' more so than anyone else she knew. She smiled at the thought that maybe one day her sister would go down in the pages of history, ~But not without me at her side~ Kala vowed.

"What do you have in mind?" Kala asked solemnly, looking up into Nishta's dark green eyes.

"Kill them all!" Dhanishta said harshly, shrugging her shoulders.

Overhearing the blunt remark Mortan eyed Dhanishta with a warily, there was fire in this one, something to either be glad of in a new shipmate, or wary of!

Steven nodded, "I agree. Any damage we can do will help the fleet when they return."

Qel grunted at that remark, "When?" he repeated with a mocking smile, "The Federation is too weak to return. The damage they sustained will take months to repair." he informed them, "And what exactly do you plan to do during that time?" he questioned gruffly.

"They will return." Steven replied. "There are too many of our people down there on the planet. Besides, even if they don't, hurting the Hydrans as much as possible will aid the next species that they attack. And that could very easily be the Federation." He looked purposely over at the Captain, "Or the Klingon Empire for that matter."

Qel roared at that one, "The Hydran know better than to take on the Empire." he assured them, laughing at the humans ridiculous statement. "Besides there is no point to this." he said, indicating the sudden frenzy in making plans, "None of you are capable of standing up on your own two feet, let alone taking on the Hydran. Four, against thousands. Even a Klingon knows when he is outnumbered. There is no purpose in fighting when there is nothing to gain but your death." he told them all coldly.

"And die you will if you insist on fighting as you are now!" Mortan said as he rejoined them, "You are weak, and need rest!" he added, sounding disdainful of the weakness but realizing it was a necessity for some lower life forms.

Steven smirked at Qel's comment. Though the huge warrior could attack him at any point, he decided to reply. "The Empire.... If they have the balls to take on the Rihannsu Star Empire, they sure as hell won't see the Klingon Empire as a difficult proposition. And where is the honour in running away from the Hydrans just because they outnumber you?"

Qel turned to the insignificant little puke sitting, broken in *his* sick bay, taking up *his* valuable resources. Stepping forward he backhanded him, sending the marine flying off his seat on the biobed. "Klingons do not run away from their battles. Yet this battle is not ours to fight." He reminded him in a low growl.

"You are lucky that you are alive to fight another day. Do not forget where you are boy! This is not a Starfleet vessel, and you should show more respect to those that pulled your body from the vacuum of space, as worthless as your life is, be thankful that you still have it!" he bellowed looming over the marines form.

Steven slowly picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his jaw to try and get some feeling back. He gave an evil look towards the Klingon for a moment then turned away.

Kala stared over at Jonas; she could feel his hostility towards Qel emanating from across the room, like the heat from a fire. If this marine wasn't careful he would be back out there, and loosing a toe would be nothing in comparison to imploding in space! For the first time in her life she wished she had half the skill of her sister, but all she could so was stare at Jonas, with an expression of down right 'don't go there' and hope he glanced up at her before shooting his mouth off again.

He should have expected Qel to react as he had. He was a Klingon after all. Still, he hadn't saved them, it had been Kala. And he was tempted to say so. Opening his mouth to speak, he caught sight of Kala's expression and stopped.

"We're not looking at the odds when it comes to using brute force here Captain." Michael looked at him. He felt more calm and clear minded then he would expect himself to be in this situation. "We need to use what's up here." He pointed to his head with his index finger. "Anything else will be useless, as you yourself pointed out."

Qel's dark eyes lingered on the human hybrid at his feet for a moment before turning to the other, this man had been quite for some time, it was interesting to see that he did indeed have a voice, and perhaps a backbone.

But he would have to test out the latter some other time. "It is no matter," he said, bored of the conversation, "The Empire will have no part in this war." he repeated firmly.

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