"Herecy"

Qelereth'Meshketh C'ruv's, Supreme Commander, IHV Light of Vindication
Alklaatu Verati'ss, Commander, IHV Shield of Resolution

IHV LIGHT OF VINDICATION: MATRON'S CHAMBER

"Commander - I find you lack of faith... disturbing."

The Supreme Commander of the Hydran WarFleet looked down upon the bowed figure of Alklaatu Verati'ss, one of her most capable war leaders. Verati'ss' accomplishments against the Lyrans spoke of a special combination of daring and maturity few Hydran males showed before their seventies. As the Cleansing progressed, the Shield of Resolution was always at the WarFleet's vanguard, bearing the brunt of the Romulan and Federation defenses while skillfully using her Fusion Cannons and Hellbores to prepare the enemy for the arrival of the StarGod.

Yet, amongst the Faithful there were whispers of Verati'ss, na-Count of the Adcherait Colony and Master of the Shield of Resolution.

Justifiably proud of his ship and crew, the commander was often the last to bow in thanks to his household gods. In following the lead of the Ulazhi, Verati'ss accepted the wisdom of their proposals - but not blindly. He had the annoying habit of questioning *everything*, and *everybody*... even those unaccustomed to providing answers.

Even now, as a new dawn rose for the Hydran people, Alklaatu Verati'ss stands before the Matron... with questions and doubt.

"Semantics, Matron", Verati'ss chittered confidently. "Consider it not a lack of faith, but rather a concern over our enemies development... and a belief that we have underestimated them."

Qelereth'Meshketh C'ruv's's three eyestalks glared at the Commander.

"Underestimate? Are you insane Verati'ss? They have been driven out of our new territories - Ch'Rihan is ours! Our allies are enroute to press our advantage with us as we speak. All this... and you speak of underestimating the enemy?"

Despite the Matron's incredulous wrath, Verati'ss stood firm in his conviction. "The statistics support my opinion, Matron. Our fighter supremacy was maintained through numbers only - the new version of the Federation "Rogue" fightercraft has bet our challenge admirably.

Further - their fighter wings attack and defend with considerably more tactical cohesion than our own. Their pilots don't fight for personal glories or the honor of their clans."

"Are they here, Commander?"

"No, but..."

"Then the observation is irrelevant" the Matron concluded. "We will discipline the fighter pilots and increase their exposure to the Ulazhi writings guaranteeing our victory. I agree that our pilots need to be more focused, Commander Verati'ss - I simply believe that we have different opinions as to the object of that focus."

"Matron-leader, I'm not certain I know what you mean", Verati'ss lied as smoothly as he could. ~This is different. She's never been so...

religions before.~

Matron Qelereth'Meshketh paused before answering, weighing the Commander's accomplishments against his persistent lack of piety. "I think you do, Verati'ss. I think you know exactly of which I speak."

A twitch of her leftmost eyestalk quickly brought an altern bearing a datapod. "Your lack of faith is well documented - even by the crew of the Shield of Resolution. While you accept the acts of the StarGod, you almost never offer praise for the Deliverence it has given and Cleansing it now inspires."

~My own crew!~ Names and possibilities raced through Alklaatu Verati'ss mind. ~So soon! I knew there was rumblings of discontent, but this...~ "I would know the names of my accusers, Matron! As Master of the Shield of Resolution, it is my right!"

Two of Qelereth'Meshketh's eyestalks reviewed the names as the third glared at the Commander. "The names are many Verati'ss, and I command here... I do not obey the commands of others. It's time you remembered your place and who you are." Gracelessly, she rose from her throne and descended the dias. As she did so, six well-armed troopers entered the chamber and surrounded the surprised Commander.

"Matron... you can't be serious!"

"Commander, I assure you... sending you to the Inquisition was not a jovial decision", Qelereth replied quietly as she passed the prisoner.

"Perhaps they will be able to assist you in fully understanding the truly amazing events that are unfolding in our times. It's...

important you appreciate the gifts the StarGod has provided, Verati'ss. It's important you truly believe."

"But the Shield of Resolution..."

"Will be ably commanded by Tklenat J'oolak'k, her Wing Commander", the Matron said as she left the chamber. "After all, while faith is it's own reward na-Count, sometimes the *correct* piety should be given a bounty of its own." A cold gleam shone from the lone eye looking back at a stunned Alklaatu Verati'ss.

"Perhaps the Inquisition will show you the wisdom of that as well."

"Death Company"

Featuring:

Lieutenant Sanguinus Ephrial Templar
101st Battallion Marine Chaplain
AND
The surviving fragments of the Last Chancers and a little known merc unit known as the "Black Dragoons."

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

Resistance Undercity

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

Deviants, heretics, outlaws, murders, thieves: the scum of the Federation. Criminals all. Banded together and formed into suicide squads, these were the "heart and soul" of the unit known at the "Black Dragoons," men and women offered a life of constant warfare as opposed to the meager existance of a penal colony. They understood that they would not be hailed as heroes, and many of them didn't care:

the chance to deal death unfettered and unleashed was more than payment enough.

Much like SF Intelligence, these were people not often heard about, and for good reason. As a mercenary organization, this was one of the few the Federation employed: they performed the dirty jobs best kept out of public view, and should things go wrong a perfect scapegoat was already available to take the blame away from the government.

A unit of them, company sized, had been attached to the Last Chancers at the last minute as one of those "right place right time"

situations, with the expectation that they would not survive the up and coming hostilities should they actually occur. When the fighting had begun, the Black Dragoons company had been right at the front, and the ferocity of their fighting had given pause to even the most unrully of the true Last Chancers. And yet it hadn't been enough.

They had actually suceeded in spurring on their fellow federation citizens, halting the hydran advance for precious moments before being overrun.

And now, all that was left of the Last Chancers was little more than a platoon sized element: most of those were Black Dragoons. Still, in the short time they had been together, these unrully individuals had formed a bond unlike any other, and with but one outsider. Battle Chaplain Templar, of the Miranda's 101st Battalion. He had sparked something within each of them as he ministered to their spiritual needs. Templar did not stop to ponder precicely what it was that they were so taken with, but it had manifested in a willingness to fight under his care like none other, not even previously, during the bloodiest moments of the initial assault. He had led them on at least a dozen different operations in the past week serving as screening forces. With each operation they became more in tune with each other and with him, operating with a selflessness uncharacteristic in even the most giving and unwavering of individuals.

And now, he stood before them once again. Not as their leader, but as a warrior, an equal. "Brothers and Sisters," he began. "Once again we gather on the eve of battle and bow our heads for the Fallen.

Those who have come and died before us have paved the path to our future with their lives. This is a blessing and a gift to covet, we shall not squander it meaninglesly. But tonight is a night diferent than before."

He gestured to a set of crates behind him, in which could be found sets of marine armor. He had selected each item himself from amongst that with the dead no longer required use of, and save for certain details they were completly black. The shoulders were scored with a large red X, and red drops of blood had been painted over the heart on each chest plate, one under each of the power points of the combadges.

"Tonight, you are no longer Black Dragoons, nor Last Chancers. We leave behind such names as these units are no longer in existance.

Tonight you shed your old lives and don the armor of a new path: the path of the Death Company."

Half an hour later the newly christened Death Company stood before Templar resplendent in their new, if well used, battle armor. 'They are now complete,' Templar mused as he smiled and held out his arms.

"Let us kneel, Brothers and Sisters," he said as he tood a knee.

"Rise with me, as battle brothers and battle sisters! Anoint your weapons with the tears of the dead, and sleep tonight upon the beds of angels! Tomorow we go out to wage war again. Tomorow we fight the Hydran enemy and bring Death upon their door!"

"HUZZAH!" Cried one, a smallish woman who was no less deadly than her larger bretheren as she took to her feet. "HUZZAH!" She cried again, lifting a fist in the air. Again and again the shout was raised, untill the entire platoon, some 32 Death Company troopers, veterans all, were standing and shouting it, fists pumping the air with each telling. "HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH! .... "

"For All Our Sons and Daughters" Part Two

Featuring, from the IKS T'Kengra;

Lieutenant (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe - Engineering Assistant IKS T'Kengra

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

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

***IKS T'Kengra, crew quarters***

Dhanishta cast a worried eye towards her sisters curt reply yet nodded towards Keldan, "We were looking over the ideas we went through yesterday, there are two that stand out as the best course of action. Kel suggests that we break up into two teams, and I have to agree with him. We can do more damage that way." For a second she debated if that was such a good idea as the words passed from her lips. She really didn't want to break

up the group, she didn't want to leave Michael or her sister, or Keldan, or for that matter the only guy who was qualified to shoot a rifle!

Keldan picked up several pads in succession and began dispersing them to the rest of the team. He punched up the data for the Annihilus group of ships so everyone could see what he was about to talk about.

"This battle group looks to be the weak link in the Hydrans' chain, if the sensor data we received from the Klingons is accurate. The group lost two of its support ships and the Annihilus itself suffered critical damage to most of its systems during the attack. Their defensive systems are offline and sensors and communications have been intermittent due to radiation saturation from a destroyed impulse pylon. The Klingons should be able to beam us in at any number of points on board the Annihilus or one of its support vessels without them being able to detect us. Most of its personnel have been moved off ship pending repairs."

"The other ship to look at is the Hammer of Absolution. It went almost totally undamaged during the fighting. It also has only a skeleton crew aboard at the moment, and is providing backup support to the Annihilus. Normally it serves as missile boat, however, and it should have a good stock of Hellbores left on board."

"The key to getting on board one or both these ships will be the timing. Our window of opportunity will start in just over an hour, when the nearest Hydran system patrol moves out of range. The window will close when they have finished reparations on the impulse pylon. Judging by the decrease in radiation levels, it should be no more than a couple hours that their sensors and communications will be back online."

"As far as teams go, we can all go together in one team, or split up. But we've isolated three main objectives that should be feasible."

"The first is to gather information on the Hellbore missiles and, if possible, commandeer one. While you were all sleeping last night, I was down in the cargo bay rummaging through piles of Klingon scrap and salvage. One of the things I managed to put together is this small 'detector'." He flipped a small coin-like disc in Dhanishta's direction, "Both Jonas and I were directly exposed to the Hellbore's radiation on board the Galaxy. With Mortan's assistance, I was able to isolate that radiation signature in our tissue and used it as the basis for this thing. Unfortunately, it won't tell you much. You'll have to be fairly close for it to work, if it works at all. But at least there's a chance it will help you find a Hellbore energy signature."

"Thanks" Dhani replied catching the device and looking it over as he continued talking. Already she was formulating a plan in her mind of who was going on which assignment, it was clear which one Keldan thought she would take!

"The second goal will be to cause as much damage as we possibly can to the Annihilus' internal systems. I've included a list of primary, secondary, and tertiary targets to look over. Of course, what gets taken out will likely be a result of what we can find once we get there."

"The third objective, which I'm going to take on myself, is to try to infiltrate the Hydran's information system. I still have my tricorder, although it was badly damaged. I've managed to fix it using the aforementioned Klingon junk. If the Annihilus has suffered critical computer systems failure, as I believe it has, it should be easier for me to get past their security and get at whatever information I can find. And wreak as much havoc along the way as I can."

Dhanishta smiled her agreement. "Well you have done your homework." she said, a little embarrassed that she spent more of the night on personal endeavors rather than preparation.

"What about shields? Or do you see these as being one way trips?" Steven asked. He wasn't afraid of death, though he always preferred to stay as far from it as possible.

Dhanishta shook her head, "We won't be able to beam out at all." she replied looking up from the padd. "Once the Klingons drop us off we are on our own. By splitting into two teams we have more chance of success and survival. Once the Hydran clock on to what we are doing we won't have much time. The only means of escape once detected will be the escape pods on the ship, or if you can get to them and figure out how to use them, then the transporters. However, from what I hear they are using transporter scramblers, so that option is only viable if they are knocked off line. Perhaps we should make that an objective too?" she suggested looking at Keldan.

Keldan smiled, "The defensive screens onboard the Annihilus are not operational, but those on the Hammer of Absolution and the other support vessels most likely are. As Dhanishta said, there will be no coming back to the T'Kengra, so in that regard it is a one-way trip. Use of their transporters would instantly alert them to our presence and should only be used as a last resort. That being said, I will be spending my time trying to isolate various ship's systems, including the transporters, to see what we can get to work to our advantage."

Dhanishta continued, "I have transferred some of the key information Qel supplied us with onto data padds." she paused and retreated to the corner of the room to gather up her own little project. "The padds contain the basics of the Hydran physiology, I thought that might be useful, seeing as we are in a kill or be killed situation, knowing where to strike will aid our chances of survival." She passed round a padd to each member of the group.

"You will also find details on the Hydran language. The Klingons did quite a good job on this, I have to say, yet obviously it's lacking quite a bit. I don't know how good everyone's Hydran is, mine is…. nonexistent. So this will at least give us an idea of what we are dealing with when we get there."

Keldan waited a few moments to see if anyone had any other comments before proceeding. "As far as the end of this little venture, I've indicated the suspected locations of their main shuttlebays and escape pods. The Annihilus is at the L4 point, so it will be quite a bumpy trip to Romulus. Fortunately, the majority of the Hydran fleet is near Remus, so you should only have to worry about patrols. Try to target the northern continent on ch'Rihan, some distance from the capital." Keldan looked at Michael, "If

we can make it into the capital, we can try finding some friends Michael and I made on our last trip there."

Dhanishta frowned slightly, she hadn't heard about that little trip. She filed the information away to ask him at a later date; that was if there would be a later!

"Has anyone ever covertly boarded an alien vessel before?" Steven asked, as he tried to shake of the remnants of the headache he had had all morning.

"I've infiltrated an alien vessel, though it wasn't exactly 'covertly,'" Keldan stated flatly. "During the Dominion war I was part of a Security detail that boarded a Jem'Hadar warship. We weren't able to take over the vessel, but we did manage to cripple it before we were forced to retreat."

Dhanishta pulled a face of discontent at the question, "Not recently." she replied, "Not ever really." she added trying to hide how she felt about it all. She wouldn't deny that it was a good idea, but she knew that she was an underdog so to speak and that no one on the Galaxy would let her lead such a mission, ever. These sorts of things were best left in the hands of the professionals and the question just highlighted the fact that she was a novice and really didn't have a clue what she was doing. Although she would argue otherwise, so she wasn't an intelligence agent, or a marine, just a lowly engineer, but she had taken the command course at the academy, she had studied battle plans, inelegance briefings and made the decisions, yes it was all simulations, but she knew she could do this. She wasn't about to let her training go to waste, let the Hydrans get away with what they had done to Romulus, and it wasn't even about the Romulans any more, at least not to Dhani. It was about saving the rest of the universe from hostile take over. It was about preserving justice, restoring the balance and hopefully peace.

"So, who's going where?" the half-breed marine asked.

Dhani looked round the room, this was one of those command situations she had trained for; she smiled at the realization. "Keldan will head up team bravo. Your objectives are to infiltrate and sabotage the Annihilus. Secondary objectives that you have devised are fine with me. I want that ship taken out, it must not be operative, and preferably destroyed by the time the Fleet returns. You have Kala and Michael at your disposal."

"Jonas and I will take the Hammer of Absolution and commandeer a Hellbore, we will inflict as much damage as possible before bailing out. Our secondary objective will be to gather any tactical information we can regarding the Starbeast and relay whatever we can to Starfleet. We can't win this war ourselves but the more damage we can do the better."

Keldan waited for any final comments. He looked at the chronometer readout on the padd and then the rest of the group. "It's currently 7:10 hours. I suggest we make whatever final preparations we need and meet back in the main transporter room at 8:00 for beam out."

Kala nodded, the flood of information over the last twenty minutes had frankly overwhelmed her. She was ready for a nap at least, or maybe pounding on Mortan till he gave in and administered her with a hefty dose of pain killers.

"The plan sounds great." she said, "Will see you all in the transporter room." without another word Kala walked out.

Dhani stared at the door as her sister left. It was obvious she was not in a good mood. That certainly would hamper their mission. And she wasn't about to let this be the way she remembered her if it came to that. "I will see you all then, gear up and put your game faces on." she told the others as she too walked to the door, following in the wake of her twin.

"Failure to Disclose"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Second Platoon CO, SFMC – USS Galaxy
Lieutenant (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe – Engineering assistant – IKS T'Kengra

****

Mess Hall
IKS T'Kengra

****

(Set two days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas')

"And the little runt begged for his life, with tears falling down his cheeks." K'mranic roared, taking another swig of bloodwine before continuing, "Where was the honor in killing such a pathetic wretch like that? So I growled at him and told him if I ever saw him in the sector again I'd hunt him down. And he ran like a weakling, knocking into three of four waitresses and customers before disappearing out the door. And I haven't seen him since!" He roared with laughter.

Kala laughed so hard that bloodwine actually came out of her nose; she turned through her fits trying to contain herself and looked at Jonas, wondering if he kept up with the conversation, K'mranic had a way of telling anecdotes that had you reeling for days.

Despite the level of bloodwine in his system, Steven didn't find his story funny, but laughed along with the rest. He didn't want to insult the Klingons. Who knew how they'd react in their drunken state. "The Ferengi probably ended up in some shithole like Cardassia." He said, between laughs.

K'mranic looked at him for a moment, all laughter forgotten, causing Steven to gulp. But moments later he burst out laughing. "Now that is funny." He slapped Steven on the shoulder.

A loud bang could be heard as one of the other Klingons slipped unconscious and their head slammed into the table. Steven laughed, pointing at him. "He can't hold his bloodwine..."drawing more laughter from the others.

****

A Bedroom
Klingon Ship T'Kengra

****

Steven awoke with a groan. His head was pounding like no tomorrow, his throat was dry and he was sweating a lot. He knew he'd been in this state many times in his life, but none with the likes of what he now felt. To say he was feeling like shit was an understatement. It was a lot worse.

He had a hangover. And not just a normal hangover. He had the mother of all hangovers.

A slim bare arm appeared in his hazy vision as it wrapped itself around his torso, its owner leaning against his back as he lay on his side. Steven could smell a sweet smell of perfume, a slight frangipani scent. He felt a woman's chest against his back as she snuggled up to him and he smiled. She couldn't resist him. Faylin didn't have the restraint to resist him.

Despite the headache, he tried to remember the first time they had been together. It seemed like forever since then, but in reality had been less than a week ago. The day before the Hydrans attacked, that's when it had been. When she had been informed that she was being deployed to the planet. Wait! She was on the planet, maybe even dead, so how could she be... His mind reeled at the thought.

Carefully picking up the arm, he pushed it over his body and back to it's owner before he rolled forward on the bed. His eyes came upon a sleeping form, who murmured "come back to bed" as he moved.

It wasn't Faylin.

The woman before him was very different from her. Most notably the flaming red hair that lay gently over her face as she slept.

The movement caused Kala to open an eye groggily. She hadn't piled that much bloodwine away since victory had been declared over the Dominion. She smiled, that had been one hell of a night. Her relationship with K'Vol had its good moments; though she had been sore for weeks afterwards!

For a moment her smile lingered as she stared up at the form of her lover, but her smile slowly faded as she noticed several startling inconsistencies. For a start the blurry form before her was a lot shorter than she remembered. His shoulders were slimmer, in fact his whole body was different, his skin tone too.

She leaned forward, through her still slightly inebriated state, wobbling on her arms as she did, for a closer look. His hair was shorter, a lot shorter…. "K'Vol?" she called out, wincing as the noise sent a sharp pain through her head.

Though that was nothing compared to the dawning realization that it was not her Klingon consort before her, but someone else… Her stomach turned threatening to throw up bile to add to the disheveled state she was in. ~Fuck!~ was the only word that ran through her mind, on repeat!

"Ah, no. It's Steven." Steven said as he rubbed his face, trying to get his brain to fire into gear.

Kala winced, his voice sent another shooting pain through her skull, she groaned her acknowledgment before resting her head on the scrunched up sheet.

"Eh, what happened last night? My mind seems to have fallen asleep."

"We drank…" Kala mumbled into the sheet, "we drank to prepare our bodies for the upcoming battle……. I think I held my bloodwine like a true warrior…?" she glanced up at the bloke in her bed, or was it his bed (?), hoping for the reply to be 'yes', but he was still swaying and holding his head like it was going to sprout legs and wander off all by itself.

Lethargically she pushed herself up on to all fours and proceeded to crawl over him and out of the bed, the sheet followed, tangled round her ankle.

Half way across the room she paused to kick the sheet away, but the effort was too much and she let her naked body collapse to the floor, quite an undignified 'pit-stop', "Nothing like going to war with a hangover…" she groaned rolling on to her back.

"I feel like a cat shat in my mouth." she observed. Not that Steven really needed to know that, but Kala lacked certain social graces; years of living with Klingons had changed her somewhat. Though in retrospect she never had been in the class of the 'delicate wall flower', that was all Nishta's gig. She was the fire cracker and Dhanishta was the logical, quite, sophisticated one.

"Now that's a mental image I'd rather not have." he said as the headache eased slightly. Seeing that she had collapsed to the ground, he tried to get up to help her but failed miserably. "Are you alright down there?"

Kala looked up at him with those lazy eyes, a chorus of bongo drums behind them, "Yeah.." she replied, though her tone dictated otherwise. "I'll be fine." she added, "just need some coffee."

"Um, did we...?"

Kala closed her eyes and chuckled, "With that much alcohol I'd be surprised if it was even humanly possible…" she shrugged, groaned once more and tried to get up.

"Ugh," he rubbed at his face again, "I didn't think I had that much to drink." He replied as he tried to get up from the bed. Managing to get to a seated position, he laughed lightly at the woman's failed attempt to get up. Shaking his head to get the cobwebs out, he rose shakily and trudged over to her fallen form. Kneeling down, despite the sudden ache that filled his mind, he held out a hand to help her stand up. Without thinking, his eyes drifted to her naked body, admiring the curves of the sexy red-headed Trill. Finally realizing what he was doing, he looked up at her, and seeing her looking at him, grinned. "You have a beautiful body, Kala."

Kala looked down at herself and then back up at Steven…(was it?), "Well thank you." she replied smiling swaying her hips slightly at the compliment, "Your not too bad yourself." she told him, a sly smile creeping across her lips as she looked over his naked form.

"Um, who is K'Vol? You mentioned the name when you woke up."

"Ah…yeah…" Kala fidgeted uncomfortably, her eyes anywhere but on the man before her. Sidestepping him she went for the kitchen area in search of coffee, "He's the First Officer of the ship." she informed him as she breezed past.

"Oh and yeah….. sorta, kinda like my boyfriend…." she added with a brief smile, though the smile was at the coffee.

"He's not gonna barge in on us like this is he?" Steven asked looking around the spartan quarters he had been assigned after Mortan released him.

Kala frowned, "These are *your* quarters aren't they?" she asked rhetorically, "So no, contrary to popular belief, Klingons do actually have manners. Just not quite the same as humans." she muttered poring herself a cup, "Your want one?" she asked indicating the steaming coffee.

Hunting around, Steven picked up piece after piece of clothing, trying to find his trousers. He picked up a small piece of clothing and held it up, noting the serious lack of material, what there was of it was silky to the touch and the slight rose pattern on front of the red panties. "Um, I think these are yours!" Steven held them up for her to see.

Kala looked up from the position she had taken; slouching over the work bench, head first into the steam rising from her mug. She shook her head, "Nope they aren't mine. I go commando. Don't you remember?" she asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh dear." Steven murmured. "Eh no, I kind of can't recall much after the drinking. And yes, a cup of coffee would go down quite nicely about now."

Doing up his trousers, he walked over to Kala and the steaming coffee that she was making. "So, what do you do on this boat? Other than sleep with Marines when they arrive?" he winked at her.

Kala obliged pouring him a cup of the ol' hangover killer she contemplated a suitable retort to his accusation. When none was forthcoming through the pounding in her skull she shrugged and handed him the mug. "I am an Engineer." she replied, "Just like Nish." she smiled thinking of her sister. It wasn't often that the 'Starfleet princess' got to see how the other half lived.

"And just to clarify, I don't normally sleep with random Starfleet Marines." she leveled her gaze at him, the last thing she needed was a reputation. She tried to smile it off but the truth was getting to her. She hadn't been happy with K'Vol for a long time now. They had been through their rough times, both cheated at one point or another, yet still they stayed together in a round about way.

Part of her was too afraid to let the relationship die completely, and the other half just wanted her freedom back; the grass is always greener syndrome.

"I was joking about that." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "I wasn't implying anything. And despite your beauty, if I wasn't drunk I probably wouldn't have... You know." He nodded to the bed.

~Well that's nice~ Kala thought looking at him with venom in her eyes, "Guess I don't need to ask what you do, 'marine' is pretty self explanatory. Saves me from having to make small talk." her smile was thin and her tone slightly scathing.

"Well, I'm an injured marine and so I don't do much at the moment. Just patrolling the halls, oh and being sucked out of starships by the vacuum of space." he smiled.

"Did you ever get taught about tone and body language?" she asked her eyes narrowing on him. Waving her hand she brushed off whatever reply he had and made a move from the work bench.

Pausing in her poignant hard footsteps, she had never been so insulted! He had practically said that she was only bedding material under the influence of alcohol! Charming, if this was the compliment of men on a Starfleet vessel she was A) extremely content to stay aboard the T'Kengra, and B) completely understood why her sister was well on her way into old-maid-hood!

"I'm going to grab a shower, then I will be leaving." she told him, her demeanor cold as ice. "It's lucky for you that we are on the same side." she added walking away from him.

It took Steven a few moments to realize just what had happened. "Wait, please. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... there's someone back on the Galaxy that I've kinda fallen for. I like her a lot and want to see if we are right for each other. That's what I meant. I didn't mean to imply that I'd only sleep with you when I'm drunk. Far from it. I..." Giving up, he walked over to the bed and sat down.

Kala gave him a stare that would freeze a sun, "Really?" she asked slowly, "Interesting that you're so enamored with this woman yet her name hasn't come up ONCE in conversation since you got here!"

"So? I've been trying my hardest not to think about Faylin as much as possible. Last I heard she was MIA down on the planet. And I can't do a damn thing about it. And every time I think of her, I realize that I might never see her again. And I lose my concentration." He lay back on the bed. "So sorry if I haven't mentioned her to you." His voice raised up a notch. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted the hangover gone.

Kala shook her head, "I really don't care that you have a girlfriend," she told him bluntly, "but most people tend to mention that they are with someone else before they seduce another, drunk or not. It's no excuse!" she almost shouted, but knew that would only add to her headache so refrained.

"And before you mention double standards, K'Vol is my ex, we still see each other, though or relationship has pretty much died out. So my failure to disclose has no lasting effects to me or to him. Your's however, if your falling for this girl… well let me tell you, you have royally fucked that up!" she shook her head again and almost chuckled at his blunder, men, fucking men!

Steven shook his head in anger. Not at Kala, but at himself for getting into the situation. "So I seduced you then, did I? Cause it sure looked like you were drinking as much as me."

Kala let out a laugh that could cut duraniam, "Yeah but I'm not the one with a sweetheart back home am I?" she questioned him, "Me sleeping with you betrays no one. And for the record I drank more, I know my limits, I was wasted yes, but this is the T'Kengra…"she shrugged, "I'm always wasted on the eve of a battle! And I wasn't trying to impress, maybe you should learn your tolerance level. You could have said no, at no point in time did you *ever* mention that you had a girlfriend, at *no* point in time did you ever refuse, or indicate that you weren't interested, in fact from the moment you woke up you were hitting on me. Don't you dare try to turn this around on me." she shook her head at him and stormed off into the bathroom ~Mental note, never sleep with a marine!~

~Again!~ she added stepping into the shower.

"A New Level" Part Two

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief Engineer USS Galaxy
& Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist USS Galaxy

(Set two days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas')

*** Location IKS T'Kengra, crew quarters***

The walk to Kala's quarters, where Dhani was staying during the duration of their visit on the T'Kengra was made in relative silence. Only a small amount of chit chat flowing back and forth between the two of them, and even that limited conversation seemed strained as they both wracked their brains to come up with as much irrelevant tripe they could to fill the awkward silence that descended between them.

Once inside Dhani felt the tension rise even more. She chided herself and scratched her head as she stood in the middle of her sister's spartan and cramped living space. "You want a drink?" she offered Michael along with one of her cover-up smiles.

"Yeah, that would be nice." Michael looked around the room. It was rather small and empty. Pure Klingon style, although there were signs that indicated that these quarters were owned by a woman.

Dhani took her time as she fixed them both a drink wondering what the hell she was going to say, how she was going to say it and all the rest. For a moment she cursed her sister for not having a higher rank and there for a larger set of quarters and there for more room to avoid somebody!

The silence that fell between them suddenly felt awkward. It never had been that way. On the Galaxy, when they'd been together in their quarters, such moments had passed without notice...but now it was different. Michael concentrated on the trivial stuff that was to be found in the room, like the peculiar flower on the small table to the right of him and a Klingon type of PADD that lay next to it.

"Here ya go." Dhani said as she returned drinks in hand. And again the atmosphere arose between them, all Dhani could do was stand there, lamely, stroking the condensation on the side of her glass.

"Thanks." Michael took the drink from her. Their hands touched and he felt a tingling sensation through his body which, in turn, increased his heart rate by a few beats per minute. He kept looking in her eyes as he drank some of the beverage she had given him, not able to break away.

"Hey!" Dhani exclaimed after a while of standing before him as if her feet were nailed to the floor, "I have that information on the Hydran that Qel gave us in the briefing. It doesn't have the details on the occupation, but it has as much physiological data on the Hydran as the Klingons saw fit to take notes on." she began to rummage round the room locating the wads of data padds.

"Unfortunately Klingons aren't that great on taking detailed notes about another species," she continued, nose in a bag, butt in the air as she bent over to pick them up, "but they have noted the best striking points on a Hydran body." she paused and looked over to Michael, "Ya gotta love a warrior race." she mused.

"Also they have given us all the information in the Hydran language, which I think will be useful to us. I took the time to write down all the plan possibilities that we came up with earlier. Tomorrow we will need to pick a plan and then just jump in, probably to our deaths, but hey I'm an optimist." It wasn't until now that she noticed the perplexed look Michael was giving her as she babbled on, she hadn't even realized that she was just talking to fill in the silence, "Erm yeah, so, I also have the ship plans here too, they are of course outdated now but they will be a good study. I think we need to prepare ourselves... Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked abruptly, dumping the bag of data pads down in the middle of the floor.

"Well, I..." Michael searched for the right words but got the feeling that whatever he would say it would sound a bit silly. It was at these moments that he wished he could be somewhere else. On the other hand, the only place he wanted to be was with Dhani. "I thought you wanted to talk to me about something else? It sounded like it was important. Ehm, not that this isn't important...just that I didn't expect this to come around."

"Oh!" Dhani exclaimed a little put out. She knew why Michael thought that she wanted to talk about something else, she had sounded rather serious and indicated the topic to be something other than the mission, yet now they were here together, she didn't really want to talk about them. Well she did, she just didn't know where to start, or how to for that matter.

Again the silence descended, and Dhani felt herself getting irritated at how the atmosphere changed between them. Frankly she hated this. After a moment she just shrugged and gracefully lowered herself into the nearest chair; she gave up. Placing her drink on the floor she leaned forward and rested her head in her hands and just stared out across the floor. There was no point just dribbling crap for the sake of trying to make the situation better, it obviously wasn't helping. She wondered if anything would.

Would talking change anything or just make things worse? If she told him how truly scared she felt, what would happen then? She was terrified that if she did follow through on that kiss, if she did let him into all of her life, then she would inevitably hurt him in the worst way. Her life was a mess, she was a mess and she knew it, didn't like to admit it, but then not everyone goes running to a counselor in the middle of the night with

memories of killing children. Not everyone, for that matter, goes running to Victor Von Death Man to ask how much blood stains their hands. To get Michael involved in that, that part of herself that secretly longed to be part of that black world, that craved it like some deranged psychopath, she would have to share all of herself with him for she couldn't not be with him otherwise. And she couldn't, or rather didn't want to share that part of herself with him. Frankly she didn't want to even recognize that part of herself existed, let alone try to explain it to anyone else.

And then there was the flip side, backing out and not following through on the kiss, which was the safest option, for both of them. But even in doing that she could still break his heart. If he really liked her as much as she felt he did, then for her to turn around and whack the breaks on, that itself could destroy all they had. And she valued what they had more than her own life. She sighed, either way there was pain and hurt, either way

she had to make a decision that she didn't want to make.

"Dhani?" Michael said softly as he sat down beside her. "Is there something wrong? I know things have changed a lot between us...but I was hoping that a good thing?" There was a pause before he finally had the courage to say out loud what had been on his mind for the last 4 or 5 months. He couldn't hide it anymore. The feeling had become too strong to suppress. "I love you Dhani. I'm sure you know that by now."

Dhani froze. She felt her stomach lurch at his words. A chill swept through her and she felt her hands trembling. She had known that, sure, she wasn't stupid. But to hear him say it, to hear the words aloud made them real, almost corporeal. In that moment everything seemed to slow down, her vision blurred as her head turned to face him. Why did that line fill her mind with dread? And it wasn't just her mind, her whole body reacted to the words, and she wasn't sure if it was in a good way.

"You love me?" she repeated her voice far off as if she were in a dream state. Her eyes looked at him yet through him at the same time as she processed her reaction. It took a while for her to realize that she was holding her breath, waiting for him to answer. She didn't know why but her eyes stung as she stared at the wall over his shoulder, they welled and before she could restrain them a tear rolled down her paled cheek.

Michael watched the tear as it flowed down Dhani's cheek. A frown appeared on his face which immediately was replaced by a look that radiated compassion. Her reaction was totally different then he'd expected. He reached out and removed the tear with his thumb, thereby softly caressing her cheek. "Something IS wrong, isn't it?"

Dhani almost backed at the touch. She felt him more strongly when they were close, and right now she was so confused with her own feelings, the last thing she wanted to do was confuse hers with his. Lowering her head she refused to meet his gaze. She just couldn't be here; she couldn't deal with this now. Why now? Why did everything have to be so complicated? Sharply she stood up and walked across the room to the window. When she stared out at the stars things usually became clearer. That, or she just fell into a trance as she stared at them and that seemed to make everything better. Folding her arms across her chest she hugged her slight frame, still shaking slightly with cold. The room wasn't cold, the room was a constant temperature; it was just her.

Standing there she tried to ignore the fact that he was sitting behind her, watching her, needing answers. She could feel him, it was almost like she couldn't escape him, yet she never wanted to. Even though she felt as if she was being suffocated, still, she knew that it wasn't by him; it was her own insecurities that choked her.

Slowly, quietly she spoke, "I love you too." she said her tone full of sorrow. "But I am afraid." There she said it. Almost as painful as dragging teeth she supposed. Admitting feelings for her was difficult; they were still alien to her.

So now, finally, it was out it the open. Michael's heart skipped a beat when he heard Dhani's words. They instantly washed away the doubt he'd lived with for so long. The emotion it invoked was overwhelming. It felt like he could take on everything that would be thrown at him now that he knew she loved him too.

After some moments that feeling was tempered by the knowledge that Dhani still was burdened by...something. He could sense it via their telepathic link. She tried to hide it from him, but some seeped through nonetheless. It was tormenting her and Michael couldn't bear to see her going through that. He stood up and walked to Dhani. Standing behind her he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Leaning closer to her he whispered in her ear. "I'm here Dhani... I'll be there for you when you need me, and I do believe that we can beat this thing together that makes you afraid. ...You can lean on me whenever you want."

"That's just the problem." Dhani replied feeling her breath quicken at his touch. "If I 'lean' on you, if I told you just half of my past, the things that I think about, the things that I feel…. The things that I have done…" her voice lowered as she trailed off, staring intently at the stars beyond the window to stop herself from weeping, "I would loose you," she said softly, "and I am terrified of loosing you."

She turned around to face him, his hands trailing across the fabric of her clothing. "If we did this, if we got together, like a couple, and it didn't work out, I don't think I could stand the pain." Looking up her eyes locked onto his eyes, "You are my *best* friend. I never thought of you in that way. And then standing there, so close to you, feeling your breath across my skin, and then that kiss!" she shook her head her eyes never leaving his face, "I can't go through that pain again." she said feeling a pang in her chest. "I lost Chang for the most stupidest of reasons, I couldn't stand to lose you for real ones."

Michael sighed. He averted his eyes when he thought about what to say to Dhani. In a way he did understand her, but he was not prepared to let this chance pass by just like that. If he did, it would never come again. It was only after some long seconds of silence that he spoke again. "Would you believe me if I say I feel the same way? I don't know what I will do if I ever loose you." He looked up again and into her eyes. "But I'm willing to take that chance because I think it's worth taking. You're worth it."

Dhani smiled softly, "Michael you don't understand. If we got together, we risk all this." she said gently placing her hand on his chest. Her heart broke as she resisted what could be the most wonderful thing in her life. She had never been looking for someone to share her life with. She never felt that need to belong to another, not since Chang at any rate. Yet now she was so close to all that she had ever possibly wanted. All the dreams she had shared with Chang, all the plans they had made of family and future, they where here, knocking at her door. She knew the list of possibilities stretched to infinity and beyond, she had no idea what a future with Michael could contain. Her soul cried out for her to take that leap of faith. Screamed at her to just let go of all that held her back and freefall into the unknown, because in her heart she knew that no matter what happened Michael would always catch her. Yet still fear and doubt held her back.

As she looked into his eyes she already knew that no matter what happened now, what they had, the friendship she valued so much, was already changing. The shift was afoot and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Hairs across her body stood on end, electrified by the air that cracked around them as she stared into his deep blue eyes.

"Tell me..." Michael gently removed a few hairs out of Dhani's face."...when did risk ever hold you back?"

The rush overwhelmed her as his fingers brushed her skin. When did everything change? Her heart rate increased, her breathing quickened and she realized for the first time that these were really her emotions. She moved forward, her body inching into his. "I never had anything to loose before." she replied in a near whisper.

Michael's voice could barely be heard as he spoke softly in Dhani's ear. "Right now, I don't see anyone loosing anything here." He moved forward and carefully planted a kiss in her neck. He felt his body react as he smelled her perfume.

The sensation that cascaded through her was enough to make her dizzy. His lips tickled her skin, sending ripples of pleasure throughout her body. She felt her mind fuzz as heat ran up her spine. Pulling back from him she took his face in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. Softly her thumbs grazed his cheeks before they lowered, retreating behind his neck to pull him into a deep kiss.

The emotions came over him like an avalanche as Michael surrendered himself to them. The kiss, along with their passionate embrace, seemed to last for hours and almost took his breath away. In the end he was the one that interrupted the kiss. As he went down, he explored Dhani's neck and kissed her on several spots along the way. His hands went places where he'd never touched her before. Michael had held these feelings for Dhani inside him or so long, had to suppress for years, and now he couldn't hold back anymore...could barely even control them.

At first it was like two starving animals that hadn't eaten in weeks as their hands franticly explored each others bodies, their kisses fast and hard as they moved throughout the room, finally coming to rest by the sofa. Their lips never parted as they slowly lowered to the cushions below.

Everything else fell away as they became lost in each other. The war, the T'kengra, almost dying, the mission; all of it a blur as their minds opened to each other just like the first time they had kissed.

Emotions flowed through the psychic link. She could feel the sensations that ran through him as her nails gently raked his back, she could feel the pleasure her touch gave him. It was truly amazing; to be able to feel his pleasure, it accented hers. And she knew from the placement of his hands that he felt it too.

Their bond seemed to grow stronger with every passing moment. She had no idea how their bond came to be, if she thought back she would realize that they had always had it. From the first time she saw him, feeling that she had known him for years, to the moment when she first spoke to him with telepathy and he heard her. From that moment on there was something special between them. Dhanishta had never read up on her Betazoid heritage, her mother was a mute and for both her children to possess telepathy had been a medical mystery, yet if Dhani had been brought up on Betazed or if her mother had seen fit to supply her children with any information about their culture, Dhani would have realized long go that Michael was in fact her imzadi.

At some point in time clothes flew in all sorts of directions, garments littered the floor as they lay together. Breathing softly, as their naked bodies intertwined gazing deeply into each others eyes their movements slowed, all urgency forgotten as they savored their time together. It was more than sex, it was more than 'making love' it was two souls joining, becoming one.

"For All Our Sons and Daughters" Part One

Featuring, from the IKS T'Kengra;

Lieutenant (Jg) Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe - Engineering Assistant IKS T'Kengra

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

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

***IKS T'Kengra, crew quarters***

"Right, from the scans this morning we have a choice of destination," Dhanishta said looking at Keldan, "I prefer Risa to be honest." she cast him a joking smile as she continued to sieve through the information spread out on the table before them. Handing him a data padd with the passive scans the crew of the T'Kengra had taken of the Hydran fleet a little under an hour ago she folded her arms, "What do you think?" she asked.

"You should try Hanamaula Bay in Kauai, on Earth. It's out of the way, and has less of a touristy feel. A truly enchanting place." Keldan held the pad up, staring intently at the information it displayed, but shook his head. "No plan that involves the Klingons is viable. It was magnanimous of them to have rescued us from a slow death in deep space

but expecting any assistance in our plans from here on out would be tantamount to disaster." Pausing a minute, he thought maybe he should add 'sorry', to his statement, since Dhanishta's relations with the Klingons was already being stretched to the limit. But these were the facts, and they couldn't build plans using a support they could not reliably depend on. He tossed the pad into the growing discard pile and grabbed two more.

Dhanishta nodded slowly. In the peripheral of her vision she saw Michael exit from the bathroom, dripping. She couldn't help but smile as he crossed the room and headed for the bedroom. They had both been over the plans several times during the course of the previous evening. In fact they had spent most of the night awake, getting only little sleep. Although not all that time was spent making daring plans to take over hostile Hydran ships! Again a smile crept on to her lips as she listened to what Keldan had to say.

"I think these two represent the best chance for success. We can infiltrate one or the other, or have one team hit each. It doesn't really matter since there'll be no comm. between teams anyway. I think it marginally increases our chance of success to hit two different ships." He let out a small chuckle. "It will certainly do more damage that way.

I'd suggest hitting the ships in this group." He handed one of the padds to Dhanishta. "The warship Annihilus sustained heavy damage during the battle and is undergoing extensive repairs at the L4 point. We could infiltrate it and one of its support ships, assuming the data the Klingons received is accurate." It had better be accurate, Keldan thought. It was the last bit of help they were going to get from them. But then a small smile snuck into the corner of his mouth. He raised his voice so everyone in the room could hear. "What do you think of that as a two-pronged approach, Michael?"

"As my Father would say; seen from a mathematical standpoint, such an approach has indeed a greater chance of success. All factors for both cases being equal and assuming both Teams are equally equipped to do the job of course." Michael said as he walked out of the bedroom towards the group. "Right, I bet he be would proud hearing me say that." he added semi-seriously.

Dhanishta's smile widened as Michael stepped into the room. Her body tingled with excitement every time she looked at him. It had been a difficult challenge to get out of bed, let alone have a shower and then get dressed. But someone had to be dressed before answering the door to let Keldan in! For a moment Dhani wondered why fate had been so cruel as to throw them together now, when in less than a few hours one of them, or both of them could well be dead. She desperately wanted to walk the few steps between them to stand at his side, to hold him, kiss him good morning, to feel his hands across her body, the warmth they emanated, the shear amount of emotion she felt through his touch… but her desires to flaunt her new found love were curbed by the need to be professional and part of her wanted to hide it too. Their relationship wasn't for prying eyes or inquiring minds. It was theirs and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, she didn't want to share it with the world, not yet at least.

"So," Dhani said unable to wipe the grin off her face, "We are going for a two pronged approach then, I like that idea better we..."

Keldan interjected, "Where are Kala and Jonas? We are going to have to get this plan moving assuming everyone is in agreement."

A frown crossed Dhani's face as she checked the time, "They should be here by now." she replied, "Did you see them about on your way here Kel?"

"No. They could be anywhere aboard ship, together or apart, for all I know." he replied.

As if on queue the doors parted revealing a red faced Jonas and an equally red faced Kala. Despite the load he was carrying, Steven paused to let Kala enter the room first.

"Yeah, sorry we are late." Kala said casting a wary eye to Jonas, "I bumped into him in the Mess hall this morning, we got talking about the mission and lost track of time." Smiling slightly she crossed the room and took a seat at her desk, picking up one of the strewn padds she scanned it briefly before tossing it back down and resting her head in

her hands, a slight moan escaped her lips.

Steven dropped the stuff in his hands onto the nearest empty table and began sorting it out. It wasn't the best gear around, but being that they were alone on a Klingon ship, it was the best he could do at such short notice. He began handing out weapons to each of the Galaxy crew members that stood nearby.

Michael took one of the hand weapons Steven gave him. "You know, it's been a while for me. I could do with some target practice. Shame that they don't have a Holodeck here." He looked at the Klingon type weapon, "They agreed to let us use these?"

"Sorry, they don't have much available that doesn't look Klingon, so I grabbed what I could. Besides, we can hope to not need them."

Kala looked up, swiveling in her chair she answered Michael, "It depends on how you define the term 'agreed'." she said flatly. She was still slightly pissed off with Jonas, and her headache hadn't totally passed. Kala never was one for mornings, groaning again she rubbed her temples.

"The only non Klingon weapon around is my own weapon which I still had with me from when we were rescued. And as the person with the most experience in combat, I'll be using that. Of course, if you'd prefer to carry sticks and a bag of stones to throw at the Hydrans, then be my guest." he grinned.

Keldan walked over and began looking through the items on the table. "You shouldn't underestimate the damage potential of a good, heavy rock. It may not take the enemy out, but it certainly does slow them down a bit, especially if your aim is true."

Wandering towards Kala, Dhani stole a moment to whisper in her ear, "Where were you last night?" she asked curious. She was in fact thankful that her sister hadn't come home, but as the same time she was a little worried, the amount of drink she had seen her sister consume before she left the mess hall was immense, that coupled with the leering marine… yeah, she wanted to know!

Kala didn't even look up, "I stayed with K'Vol last night." she replied evenly. "Thought you might prefer the bed to yourself, I would have called but I was pretty wasted." she added. Flashing a smile she stood up and went to get a drink, but the question from Jonas made her pause.

"So, what's the plan?" Steven asked as he looked at Dhani and Kala standing next to each other. The similarities between them were uncanny. If it wasn't for the hair, and now that he saw them together, their eyes, he would swear that they were exactly the same.

"Blitzkreig"

Flt. Admiral Victor Murdock

And a bunch of others. Characters used without permission. So nyah.

21 Days after the withdrawal

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

Combat Information Center
Deck 8, USS Miranda

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

"Two minutes." Captain Albrecht called out from across the CIC's main holotank. Murdock's aide was standing opposite the table from the Admiral, who was watching the holographic display, arms folded.

Murdock nodded briskly as the long-range scans came into sharper focus, with data that was being collated from the scanners of all the ships in the Allied fleet - something that was taking some serious number crunching on the part of the ship's computers. The Ops people had actually had to fire up the old tertiary core - from back when the ship had been MVAM capable - to avoid any adverse affect on Miranda's systems.

Still, Victor couldn't help but marvel at the the constant detail the CiC afforded him - hell, he could see everything from here.

Beside him stood Commander Dawson - Gail - who was overjoyed at being back aboard Miranda, despite the circumstances. He could relate - but then, it was a little more special for her, given that her husband was the Miranda's Chief Engineer.

Lieutenant' Daniels, one of the Miranda's Tactical staff, was standing nearby was well. With the Gorn he'd met earlier - Lieutenant K'aa - on the bridge, Daniels was nominally in charge of the CIC. As far as the Miranda's crew went, regardless.

Much like the Hydrans had when they had attacked, the Allied Fleet was coming into the system perpendicular to the solar ecliptic - that way, they could penetrate directly until they reached Romulus's gravity field.

And they were coming in *fast*. Dangerously so, perhaps, but that was part of the plan.

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

Near-Romulus space
Vengeance One
(Cloaked Romulan science vessel, IRV Dolvarus)

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

Commander Varel looked askance at her Starfleet counterpart - or more accurately, at the device that took up the majority of his small vessel's cargo bay. "You are certain then, Gorham, that this device of yours will work?"

"Yeah, more or less." Nate responded. The Commander was a member of the Starfleet Corps of Engineer's theoretical design team - one that came up with a load of new technologies, like the device in front of them. "We call it the SSP generator."

"Sub Space Pulse generator, yes?" Varel asked. "And interesting concept, based, I beleive, on old electromagnetic pulse devices?"

"Yeah, exactly." the engineer replied. "EMPs used to be able to knock technology out, but most cultures shield against that now. SSP, though, is a new approach to the same thing. So we hit that button, and every ship within range - which oughtta be their whole fleet - will be disabled."

"For how long?" the Romulan asked.

"Oh.. i dunno." Gorham shrugged. "Three, four minutes?"

"That is not much time."

"Could be everything." he replied, and checked his chrono.

"And the T'Kith'Kin vessels?" Varel asked. "How will this device affect them? They utilize no mechanical technology - everything they have his bioengineered."

"Yeah, I, uh..." the Bostonian shrugged. "I have no idea."

The Romulan woman raised a Vulcanoid eyebrow. "Then this should be..

interesting."

The timer beeped then.

"Well.." Nate started. "Here we go..."

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

Near-Romulus Space

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

As the Dolvarus decloaked, ships of the Hydran Warfleet - and their rather numerous T'Kith'Kin and Breen allies - moved into action. There was a great deal of consternation about how the small Romulan vessel had evaded thier anti-proton nets, but they had very little time to do anything as the subspace pulse spread throughout the fleet.

Within seconds, every Hydran and Breen ship was effectively disabled, all computer systems forced into a shutdown mode by the subspace pulse.

Fifteen seconds later, the Allied fleet came out of warp just on the edge of Romulus' gravity field, below the solar ecliptic. One third of the fleet, led by the Miranda, Galaxy and the IRV Praetor - which carried the Empress and the remainder of the senate. Another third of the Fleet, led by the Cheyenne, the Scimitar II, and the Dar'chak, came in from below the ecliptic, surrounding the occupying Triad fleet on both sides. The final elements came in also from above, but at an an angle that allowed them an approach paralell with the ecliptic within minutes. The third force was led by the Valdore, the K'mpec, and the Atlantia.

The Hydran warfleet was surrounded - and completely defenseless.

Except for the three-hundred fully functional vessels of the T'kith'Kin Hive.

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

Combat Information Center
Deck 8, USS Miranda

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

"The shield is still up." Albrecht reported.

"Not suprisin," Murdock noted. "If the rebels were waitin for us to show up before takin it down, then they'll be makin their move soon.

Put the ground forces on standby. We'll launch hoppers soon's we get a hole in that field. Notify the Marines."

"On it." Albrecht replied.

"Out with it, Mr. Daniels." the Admiral continued, having noticed the young tactical officer's expression.

"Uh, yes, sir." the Lieutenant began. "The SSP worked, sir - but not on the T'Kith'Kin ships. The Starbeast isn't affected, either."

"As expected." Murdock nodded. "Allright. Scramble the fighters. And Dawson - get me an all-ships channel."

"You're up." the Intelligence officer replied.

"All ships, this is Admiral Murdock." he began. "Disable those ships while they're defenseless. All fighters concentrate on disabling Hydran launch bays. Don't kill unless ye have to. All ships, weapons free. Fire at will."

The last part was an order he knew would end up disobeyed, but he had to give it. it was a dirty tactic, taking shots at people who couldn't defend themselves, but - hopefully - the allied fleet would limit thier shots at the disabled craft to disabling shots.

Some wouldn't, he knew. But every Triad ship out of the fight was one less to take on the allies. And with nearly even odds - twelve hundred ships on both sides - and the future of the quadrant at stake..

well, it was something they'd have to live with.

On the holotank, swarms of Starfleet, Romulan, Klingon and Reman fighters boiled out of thier launch bays, moving to attack. From the big ships, phaser and disruptor fire began to lance out as the T'kith'kin ships were moving to intercept.

The Romulans had returned to their homeworld, and they'd brought friends.

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

Main Bridge
Deck 1, USS Miranda

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

Captain Jaxom sat in the center seat of the Miranda, trying not to think of what had happened to the last man who'd sat in that chair, the last time they'd been at Romulus.

Miranda was understaffed, like a lot of the senior ships in the fleet, having loaned a lot of personell out to the other, understaffed ships.

Murdock really had dredged up everything he could get his hands on for this.

Behind him, K'aa stood at the Tactical station, softly snorting breath out of his nostrils. To his left, Jack Dawson, who was his Acting XO - was also manning the ops station, since Erigone had taken temporary command of a little Defiant, the Sparta. Cernu was at sciences again, and John Ramirez was at the helm. Dakota was at communications, of course, and Shaav and Jenna De'dro were running things down in Engineering.

McKeon and Weber were both at the Intel stations, the former tracking the Starbeast, and the latter, everything else. There was an open channel to CIC, for the ship's own tactical analysis, as well as Murdock's command line.

As Murdock's orders came over the comm, Jaal added his own.

"Lieutenant K'aa, let's open up strong." the Trill ordered. "Go with the cannon."

"Target, sssir?"

"Something big."

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

Romulus surface
Ki Baratan outskirts
former Tal Shi'ar Bunker

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

Kerec and his team - a hodgepodge of unificationists, military personnel, and some Starfleet people - all started as a display in the bunker they were checking out came to life.

"Elements.." he breathed, seeing the display of the situation in orbit above.

"Kerec to Carniero." he said immediately, activating his comm. "The fleet's here! Are we ready to bring down the shield?"

["Uh.. yeah. Sure."] the erratic engineer replied. ["Give me.. ah..

give me a little bit."]

"How long?"

["I'll let you know."] Carniero replied, and closed the comm.

Then he set about contacting Arvelion, who was out on a mission, and Elaithin, who was as well.

Arvelion responded, and was ready. He had several operations planned already - and was in the process of engaging some of them.

From Elaithin's team, there was no reply.

OOC: This happens right before 'Blitzkrieg'

"Battle Ready"

or

"Playalien: Miss October"

Acting Captain Jaal Jaxom
Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa

"Tactical and Sciencesss have modified a type one probe to pierce the hide of the Ssstarbeassst and deliver a payload of Borg-type nano-probesss. The only variable would be the time they take to reach the creaturesss cortex and conflict with their T'Kith T'Kin targetsss."

Jaal nodded and moved on to the next console monitoring the Miranda's repair progress.

"Repairsss to the main canonsss and phassser arraysss are complete.

Shieldsss and ablative armor generatorsss and have been repaired and are operating normally, though sssome of the damage to the Miranda'sss superssstructure will require drydock for full repairsss."

Jaal glanced back to K'aa and nodded again, "I knew about the superstructure. That thing hit us harder than anything else I can remember."

"Quantum and photon torpedoesss and other ordnance from Admiral Murdock'sss transssport have been loaded. Launchersss are remain fully operational."

That, at least, make the Trill commander crack a small smile.

"Extra Communicationss and Fighter Control personnel have been reassigned to the CIC to try hijacking the communication sssignalss of the Hydran fightersss – essstimatessss are we may only get twelve to fifteen sssecondssss of interruption of their tactical grid, but in a dogfight, I'm certain that will be ssssignificant." K'aa narrowed his eyes and gave the Trill a cursory glance, Jaal's reactions not being quite what the reptilian had come to expect.

"Ten seconds is an eternity to a fighter pilot," Jaal commented as he moved to the next console lining the bridge's port wall. "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Hrrrr… Beta Shift has remained insssolent throughout the conflict – they are presssently loaded in the forward torpedo tubesss and awaiting your command to open fire: the Galaxy could ussse a coat of red paint anywaysss…"

Jaal stood up straight and looked at the Gorn tilting his head with a deeply furrowed brow. "Are you fucking with me Lieutenant?" Others on the bridge who were eavesdropping stopped and smirked. Janeen, at the ops console, had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling out loud.

The commander looked around the bridge at the other officers on duty.

They quickly buried their noses in their work. Jaal noted some were trying to hide amused expressions. It was a good thing. It meant morale wasn't completely in the shitter after the recent defeat.

The Gorn's eyes finally widened to their usual size. "Hssss… merely making sssure you were lisssstening. You ssseem… unussssually preoccupied Captain – there are a few more itemsss of businesss to discuss."

Truth be told, the commander was a bit pre-occupied. Not only were there nearly three hundred Klingon and Reman ships outside, not only did the Old Man himself show up with the rest of the Federation's Starfleet, not only were they getting ready to go up against the Hydrans and their pet again, and not only did was his younger sister getting a taste of 'real war' while still taking her academy classes... Era was still out there... somewhere... hopefully still alive and uncaptured. Better to be slightly distracted now, when it's relatively safe, than later in the heat of battle.

If they failed here the Hydran invasion machine would keep going...

and how long before it reached... home?

Jaal's eyes narrowed this time. He liked K'aa despite him almost eating his sister in the CiC over six months ago. Well, that was according to Janeen. The elder Jaxom was sure it hadn't panned out 'quite' that way. "Let's adjourn to the ready room. Shall we?"

==Captain's Ready Room==

Jaal replicated himself a steaming mug of coffee and gestured for K'aa to help himself. Soon, the hulking reptilian was seated before him with a large, ceramic flagon of boiling water.

"Whatcha got for me?" the Trill asked after taking a generous sip from his mug.

"A number of thingsss", K'aa drawled. "Firssstly – Ensssign Tagra hasss devisssed a shield modification of quite extraordinary qualitiesss. He isss running tactical simulationsssss now, but in a nutshell – we may be able to divert the damaging energy of the Hydran Hellbore to bolssster our own shieldsss and recharge the main cannon more quickly. The preliminary data lookssss quite promisssing." He handed Jaal a PADD with a detailed overview of the project, as well as a realtime replay of the last simulation.

Jaal studied the PADD intently for a moment. "This is good... I'm impressed." He looked up at K'aa, "Keeping our own shields in tact will be a plus too. I'm not sure the ablative armor will be as effective as before... especially on the saucer section where that 'thing' hit us."

"Sssecondly, I need to assk – during the firssst battle over ch'Rihan, the transsssphassic torpedoesss were not usssed." K'aa lowered his hissing basso to a quieter, more serious tone. "Hasss Ssstarfleet given usss permissssion to ussse the full meansss to accomplish a proper attack? Can the Miranda ussse her full capabilitiesss? Asss acting CTO, I need to know what resssourcesss are available as our ssstrategic environment developsss."

The Trill rubbed his chin in thought while listening. That was a real good question. "Those things were designed to be used against the Borg, as I'm sure you know. It takes the top two commanding officers of the ship to authorize their use. Captain Summers never mentioned them during the battle. Naturally, I followed his lead." Jaal paused strolled leisurely over to the window. "Had I been in command..." he nodded to the fleet outside, "You can bet your tail we would've used them." The Trill suddenly turned to face K'aa again, "Murock is in command now... I don't know what he's going to do... just yet... but I'll make sure to offer the suggestion."

"Excellent. That leadsss to our next pice of businessss - sssomething that might be... dissstasssteful." K'aa offered Jaal another PADD, this one with an animated sequence of a lithe, semi-naked Deltan female performing an intricate, graceful choreography.

Jaal's left eyebrow rose in curiosity. His never left the PADD as he quipped, "I've always been a fan of Deltan pornography... but what's this got to do with the Hydrans and their pet?"

"Ssssorry. Sssplit the dissplay with the sssecondary animated sssequence - you'll sssee that the graphic of the nubile young woman bearsss relevance." K'aa remained absolutely still, but the Trill swore that the reptilian had darkened a shade or two of green.

Activating the second sequence, a tactical schematic of the Starbeast appeared next to that of the Deltan dancer. After concentrating on both images, Jaal slowly began to see a pattern emerge - the tentacle movement of the creature was timed almost exactly to the limb movement of the Deltan female. K'aa offered his own observation as the sequence repeated. "Complimentsss of Lieutenant Bentall on the Exeter

- we've run the comparisonsss a number of timesss with different persssonel in the CIC. The resultssss are the sssame - Missster Bentall believess that there isss a Deltan component in whatever the Hydransss are using to control the creature. If the data isss correct, the Ssstarbeassst 'telegraphsss' its blowsss - a ussseful piece of information, yesss?"

Jaal finally looked up from the PADD, "Useful? OH this will be useful all right. Send my compliments to Mister Bentall."

"Absssolutely", the Gorn replied. The information, if the Starbeast used the same sequence of movements in its attacks, would be priceless in battling the creature. K'aa appreciated the knowledge of the Exeter's present CTO - but didn't press as to how Bentall had become such an expert on Deltan dance. ~Some things are better left unknown.~

"Lassstly, Captain - I'd like to go over what you expect from Tactical in the upcoming battle." K'aa wiped his eyes with his nictitating membranes to get a clearer view of Jaxom's expressions. "My battle experience on the bridge hasss been limited to our recent engagement with the Borg under Captain Sssummersss. Different Captain...

different circumstancesss."

Jaal nodded. "It's simple K'aa, really," the Trill stated with a stern expression. They guy who'd been in so much trouble at Starfleet Academy for pranks and practical jokes was gone. Nothing remained now but the Starfleet commander suddenly in command of a ship of the line.

"Next time we go against those Hydrans and their pet K'aa... I expect us to win."

"The Prisoner"

Alklaatu Verati'ss, Former Commander, IHV Shield of Resolution

IHV LIGHT OF VINDICATION, INQUISITOR'S BRIG
=====================================

The lights of the cramped cell flickered, then faded into a merciless cold blackness. Sounds that once vibrated through the Light of Vindication's hull, the hum of the reactor, the constant flowing of the air pumps, the static hissing of various force-fields - all came to an almost absolute quiet. The only sounds were the chittering clamor of Hydran fear and panic.

~Ah, Matron - I warned you not to underestimate them.~

Had he been a normal prisoner, Verati'ss may have been able to have sprung and overwhelmed his guards, but as a heretic the customary chains and shackles not been overlooked by the Inquisition. The lone guard, draped in the vermilion robes of the Inquisition, shifted nervously on his three legs and hefted his now useless disruptor and peered futiley into the absolute darkness.

Quietly, the former Master of the Shield of Resolution offered some advice to his captor. "I'm no threat guard - your chains have seen to that. You should..."

"Silence heretic filth!" was the guards curt, squealing answer.

Verati'ss could see nothing, but the shuffling sounds of the guards feet faded into silence as he trundled off into the main corridor.

Alone, the na-Count permitted himself to allow the tension in his body to bleed out, and to breathe freely for the first time in days.

He did not dwell on the ceaseless interrogation that lacked questions, or the maddening politeness of the Inquisitor's voice, or even the stony silence of the T'Kith T'Kin "observer" who peered over the guardrail to see Verati'ss' torture. His thoughts, however useless the Matron thought of them, was of his fine ship and the crew that had betrayed him.

As Master and Commander of the Shield of Resolution, he had served for over fifteen 'Qel, as the Hydran Kingdom surged from obscurity to once again being a galactic power. She had fought at Havras, and the battles before and since. She had met Lyran flotillas and dealt them bitter defeat as she had sup'd the nectar of victory. She had served to crush the first two Galae the Rihannsu had sent to fave them, and had performed exceedingly well over the skies of ch'Rihan itself.

Now, like the rest of the Hydran fleet, she was powerless, and cold.

Out in the corridor, a wide-eyed Verati'ss could see the occasional flicker of light and knew the source didn't come from the systems of the Light of Vindication. His suspicions were proven when the Hydran warship shook, and echoed with the sound of explosions and the squeal of twisting, shattering metal.

~Phaser fire. Torpedoes. Many of them. Do you see now, Matron?

Vigilance ensures a lasting victory, not faith. Faith is best left for better things... more precious things than a soldier's lot.~ A minute later, the cell lights flickered and the hum of the Light of Vindication's reactor shook the hull once more, but the cold feeling of the darkness didn't leave Alklaatu Verati'ss.

~Minutes! By the gods! Minutes! What have they done to us?~

~What have we done to ourselves?~

"We Happy Few"

Captain T'Riele, Commanding Officer
Commander Ranjit Singh, Executive Officer

Bridge, USS Sao Paulo
=================

"Forty seconds to arrival. Phaser arrays charged, torpedoes armed and at the ready, Captain."

"As discussed Commander Singh - long range targets to be the first on the Miranda's port flank. We'll keep close to her this time, Number One. The fighters will come to us this time." To herself, T'Riele had many misgivings of the upcoming battle, but not as many as the first battle over ch'Rihan. This time, while many questions about the enemy remained vague, the direction of the fleet was not guided by a firmer, more steady hand.

Today, Victor Murdock went to war.

She wasn't sure how the elderly human had managed it, but both the Remans and Klingons were now firmly involved in the conflict and the fleet, divided into three, met the enemy in a more strategic, more logical fashion. The late Captain Summers, to his credit, had met the enemy with a bold defensive strategy that would have shattered any other force, but too many riddles flew with the Hydrans that day.

Riddles only the dead have answers for.

"Time, Number One?"

"Twenty seconds, Captain." Ranjit Singh was amazed at T'Riel's level of composure as they approached ch'Rihan for the second time. Her cool logic had cut through much of the usual tension a buildup before a battle usually developed, but today you could chill water by placing it next to the Vulcan. His amazement turned to surprise when the Captain asked a question.

"Mister Singh, do you like Macbeth?"

"The Scottish Play Captain?" With the fleet quickly nearing the Hydran fleet, the Sikh wasn't sure where T'Riel was going with her question.

A lesson for sure - but which one? "Not one of my favorites, but popular with the crowds for certain."

"Why the 'Scottish Play'?"

"Well, it's usually bad luck when you have to perform it" Singh offered. "In the past, any production that was cut short due to poor sales was quickly replaced with the Scottish Play. It's real name became associated with misfortune in the theatre."

"Ah. I was curious. Thank you, Number One." The answer seemed to placate the Vulcan until she made a second inquiry.

"And what about 'break a leg'?"

"Ten seconds. It means 'good luck'. When you 'break a leg', you're bowing and receiving the grace and accolades of your audience.

Captain... where are you going with this?"

T'Riel simply offered a raised eyebrow to her first officer. "To ch'Rihan, Mister Singh - where I want nothing broken, supersticiously or otherwise, on the Sao Paolo. Let the Hydrans distract themselves with their ideologies Commander, and let us meet them with strategy, tactical brilliance, and applied physics."

Singh smiled at the Captain's attempt at a humorous rebuke. "Consider myself chastised, Captain. We're coming out of warp, tac'ing alongside the Miranda's port. Shields up. The Hydrans... they're not alone Captain. Scanners are picking up approximately five - hundred other vessels... mostly T'kith T'Kin living hulls, a few hundred Breen craft. This'll make the first battle look like a cakewalk!"

T'Riel seemed both unsurprised and unrattled. "We knew they'd be here. Tactical: commence firing on the pre-selected target."

The Defiant-class Sao Paulo shook as her heavy ordnance bore into the first Hydran strike cruiser, which blossomed a bright orange-white plume in the dark silhouette of eclipsing ch'Rihan.

Nervously, Commander Ranjit Singh oversaw the power operations that made the Sao Paulo function most effectively, but subconsiously another verse crossed his mind before the fleet fully entered the fray.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

So began the Second Battle of Romulus.

"The JAG and the Marine"
(Front Lines of Love and War)

(8 days after the fleet withdraws - Occurs before "Snapped" and "A Kept Woman")

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

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

****

ch'Rihan

****

"What are the reactions when a JAG and a Marine see a snake?" Faylin asked the small group.

"Don't know... what?" Retorted Bear.

"A JAG advises the snake on the rules of engagement and the law of war as it pertains to the snake and its defensive posture. A Marine, on the other hand, shoots it, giggles, and goes off looking for more snakes."

Laughter filled the room at the bad joke. The door slightly open, anyone in the main hall could pick out Faylin's feminine laughter over all the other male chuckles.

He was still amazed at how many Hydran patrols he had had to avoid as he slowly made his way back. He had managed to steer clear of them and now found himself back among the marines that formed the resistance.

His chest still hurt with each breath, and he was starting to feel a little light headed.

As he walked down the hall, he could hear Faylin's laugh coming from within a doorway. He thought about saying hi, but spotted her big friend standing next to her and decided to just continue on. Steven didn't feel in the mood for a fight, even if it was a verbal one.

Bear nudged her, as he saw Steven walking through the corridor.

Knitting her eyebrows and standing, she peeked around the large cherry finish door, and upon recognizing him, flung the door wide open and went charging up to him, squeezing him with a large hug. "Oh God, you're safe!"

Steven grimaced as she hugged him, the broken rib pushing dangerously hard against his lung. Grabbing her arms, he pushed her off of him, before placing his hand upon his chest. "Easy Fay, My chest hurts like hell."

"Come on then....the medical station is at the end of the hall." It's not that far. She wrapped her hand around his hand, whether he wanted her to or not.

They walked in silence down the hall, guiding him over to a cot while wildly waiting for a doctor. "Where do you hurt?"

"You mean other than my heart?" He replied, trying to figure out what her next hurtful plan was.

"What's wrong Steven? Is it about Bear?"

"Yes... eh.. no. God, this is hard. I did something wrong. I know that.

But I wanted to have an open and honest relationship, so I didn't lie.

I didn't hide the truth. And you treated me like crap. And then ran off with that big oaf. And made me feel like you never cared about me.

Like I was some fling you wanted to forget."

"Look. All things on the table? I was hurt when you told me about sleeping with someone else. I was more hurt than you can imagine. I treated you, the way I felt. The prank war is still on, isn't it?

Because the total so far is me two, you zero." Faylin smiled slightly, then placed her hand on his hand. "Bear and I are only friends......that's it honey. It was sneaky and underhanded, yet I wanted to get even with you. I never slept with him."

"You serious? Cause I nearly chose not to come back due to how I thought you felt about me"

"You want to know how I feel about you? You really want to know?"

Faylin paused.

"Yes... please."

"Oh Jonas.....I love you....ya big grunt. I don't know how I can make it any clearer."

Steven stopped in his tracks, having been floored by what she had said.

Turing to her, he reached up with his good hand, and cupped her chin, bringing her to him. Giving her a quick kiss on the lips, he smiled.

"I love you too."

Faylin's eyes softened as she sighed with contentment. "Took a war to have us tell that to each other. I'd hate to see what needs to happen to get to the next step." She stated with a light chuckle.

"Now, babe, how about you get me to the doc, so he can make me better so I can do something I've wanted to do with you since we parted up on the Galaxy?" He was grinning from ear to ear. A marked improvement on a few minutes before.

"Before I get a doctor, you need to tell me what you want to do with me....."

Steven smiled. "You know what I want."

"Nope, I don't. You have to explain it to me....in lay mans terms."

Faylin giggled.

He traced her lips with his fingers. "Oh ok. I want you. I want every inch of you, like there's no tomorrow. I want to make wild passionate love to you, Faylin. Satisfied with that answer?"

She froze. "That'll work."

"And what pray tell, do you want to do with my injury ravaged body?"

"Nothing until you get a shower....you stink."

"For that hon, I don't think I'll have one for a week" Steven poked his tounge out at her when he had finished speaking.

"Oh, and you can talk. Where's the flash nail polish and your beautiful perfume?"

"We are in a war soldier. I don't have time for beauty treatments!"

She stated with a mock For'kel imitation.

"Where's the doctor?" She stated with a twinge of aggrivation.

"Are you that eager to get it on again?" He asked feeling the aggrivation in her voice as she queried the doctor's location.

"Steven....grow up." She stated in a firm, Marishish type tone of voice.

He grinned. "Cause I'm quite content to just hold you close at the moment."

Steven staggered to the side. He was thankful that Faylin had her arm around him, or he would have crashed to the floor. " I think I need to lie down for a bit." He scratched at the wound on his forehead, letting dried flakes of blood fall to the ground. Reaching up, he carressed her cheek. "Sorry hon, I'm feeling a little tired..." Steven slipped backwards from his seated position onto the cot as his body began to go into shock at the loss of blood.

Looking around her surroundings, her eyebrows knitted in frustration.

"If I don't get a doctor over here, I'm doing the bloody work myself!"

McAlister bellowed. In an instant, a doctor appeared.

Looking up at Faylin, Steven couldn't help but smile. She was an amazing woman, and he was excited about the prospect of them making a life together. "I love you." he said as the doctor approached.

"Half a League, Half a League, Half a League onward"

Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer
USS London

"You heard the Admiral" Kent ordered, springing up out of his chair.

"Fire at will." He glanced towards the Tactical Officer, to watch him hit the firing sequence that the 'Commander had spent the approach to Romulus programming in. Logan wanted his crew to be ready when they arrived in system, and ready they definately were. As the Hydran and Breen ships sat defenseless, Kent couldn't help but be reminded of the times when he himself had been left all but defenseless on that Colony they had crash landed on in the Delta Quadrant.

Ten Years fighting the Jem'Hadarchanged him somewhat. He was less the Operations Officer he had been, before he became an Exec that is, and now more of a Tactician. More of a Fighter. Which made him realise instantly what he had to do. "Target the T'Kith'Kin ships, give them everything we've got." He glanced at his crew again, "lets do it for Captain Ramirez."

He saw smiles on the faces of those around the Bridge. Those who had served the London's beloved previous Commanding Officer. Revenge seemed to be a good motivator for anyone. Kent had never fought any of the other races though, and held no personal malice towards. But they had crossed a line, and ignited a War. And he was proud to be one of many wearing the uniform as the Massive Combined Fleet opened fire on the Enemy ships.

As a barrage of Torpedoes was unleased upon the T'Kith'Kin cruiser that the Sovereign Class starship bore down on, another ship fired its weapons at the London. The ship was still suffering from the last time that they'd been fired upon in Romulan Space, almost three weeks earlier.

"Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death, Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!

"Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred." Kent muttered as the battle raged on. One of the crew looked at him, eitehr uncertain of the quote, or unsure why their Captain had chosen that moment to say those words.

"Tennyson" he said looking at the officer, before saying, "now lets make sure we don't join them." Returning to the Command Chair, Logan was glad to have known this crew. They were good Officers. He hoped with his life that the Second Battle of Romulus wouldn't be his last.

Well, he did hope that it would be his last battle,he just hoped he lived to see a peace beyond it.

"The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend." he muttered, as he watched Two Quantum Torpedoes and a Phaser Volley rip open an Enemy ship. "So much for that..."

Lt.(JG) Deny Darmajava, Tactical Analyst, USS Miranda(npc)
Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda

Deck 7, CIC

TJ and Darmajava had made significant progress on the shield modifications over the last several hours. TJ had finally figured out how to transition the shields when thier systems and reserves where full from the 'borrowed' energy of the Hellbore. The shilds operated at the same specs, fundamentally at least, so they could pass between one another when the computer changed thier size. But as with everything thus far, it was all theory.

"Alright, we're ready to start a full simulation. Could you keep an eye on the oscillations from the polaric splitter? I'm worried about feedback into out power conduits. Last thing we need is the Miranda lighting up like Fair St. Louis."

"OK - I've set up the required breakers", Darmajava echoed, his head still lodged in an open wall panel. "They should blow should it get too hot in here... I hope." Grunting, the Indonesian tac officer finished the last connection and closed the panel. "Last thing we need is an upset K'aa."

TJ tried not to chuckle too loudly, but it couldn't be helped, "I second that." His hands flew over the controls of the holotable as he entered some of the newer changes to the modifications. He already had Ensign Davidson and Petty Officer Oso working on the shield generators, so that part was going forward. All the technological needed was the programming and then all should work. However, with some of the changes made, all TJ's fellow Engineers could do was add the polaric splitter. If everything stayed on track, then most of the work ahead should just be on shunting power to the various systems, that's where the breakers came in, one of the many safeties they had come up with since K'aa had left them.

"I got the simulations ready. Also changed that damned conduit glitch, so the power feed to the ablative armor generators should be smooth. And I changed the ratings on the new transfer points to 250 terajoules."

Deny shot him a worried look, "Don't worry, they're rated at 325 to 375 terajoules."

"Well, that makes *all* the difference", Darmajava joked as he went over the tactical simulation's setup. "You think we're ready to light the fuse?"

"Let me check." TJ typed a few commands and read over the information, "Yep, we're ready."

The sim began with the Miranda surrounded by two diffrently coloured shields. A Hellbore came from an unseen Hydran ship and impacted the modified shields. The screen showed the energy wrapping around the shields and being drawn into the ship and sent it to the cannon, which fired eighty-five percent faster than ever recorded. TJ ordered several more hits, some several at once. The design worked perfectly. TJ turned to Deny, "Can't argue with those results. But I'm still not satisfied. That was just the Miranda up against four Hydran Capital ships. I'm going to run this as if we had this during our last battle."

He entered the commands and the Miranda banked and turned against the unseen enemies. The results changed drastically from the first sim. The modified shields shrank beneath the unchanged ones several times only to rise back up after several fusion beam hits. The cannon fired as predicted while the phasers fired at over one hundred and sixty percent of normal. Then the Starbeast appeared and the Miranda spun away.

"These results are much closer to what I'd consider reality. The modifications held, but the power conduits blew on Decks 8 and 17. Estimates are at over ninety percent fatalities. The oscillation program failed to keep up. We missed something." TJ walked away from the holotable trying to think of what to do. If that was a real fight, then several hundred poeple would have just died.

"Let's replay the sim just prior to the overload and see where the failure was", the tactician offered. "The problem with Deck 17 could be some system damage when the Miranda's saucer and main sections were fused. We could evacuate that deck, but Deck 8's Sciences, and I'm pretty sure they'll be damn busy analyzing the Starbeast when the fur starts to fly. Zooming into the affacted areas. Here we go."

"Can't argue with the Deck 17 scenario, since it's the most likely cause. But Deck 8 shouldn't be a problem," TJ replied as the sim zoomed. It showed a power condit that de-polorized from a resonant frequency, aparently a unforeseen fault in its particular design. It sent a cascade affect throughout the deck.

TJ hit his commbadge, "Ensign Tagra to Ensign Davidson and Petty Officer Oso. Which one of you can be pulled away for about 20 minutes?" Oso replied to the inquiry, "I can, sir. What's up?" "Julian, I need you to get to Deck 8, Section...16, power junction 87-Beta. Power Conduit 87-Beta 6A-3 needs to have a polaric splitter put on it in series-parrellel to the one before AND after it. That conduit has a fault in its design and make sure that the splitter has a resonant stabilizer and phase discriminator attached." "Got it, sir. Anything else?" TJ couldn't help the smile, "Not at the moment, but that can change. You might wanna get an extra cup of raktajino just in case. Tagra out."

TJ looked Deny in the eye, "If this works out, I'm buying those two, Chief Dawson, K'aa and you a bottle of Romulan Ale."

The tactical officer gave a sharp laugh, letting some of the stress diffuse. "Heh - if this works out, the three of us should pitch in and get *you* a case! Your concept's pretty slick, and if we can get it working without internally damaging the ship, it'll give the Hydrans as much of a surprise as they gave us! I am concerned about Deck 8 though - because it's a habitat level, there's a lot of life-support and utility conduits going through that deck. We can get the bridge to bulkhead Deck 17 off, but Deck 8?" The stocky Indonesian shrugged. "Let's try to anticipate the 'worst case' and nip it in the bud."

"I don't know how Smith would react to a whole case being aboard. I gave her enough of a headache with my barrel of Bloodwine," the hybrid replied, smirking as he did so. He reflected on the Deck 8 Problem for a moment or two. Life-support and Utility connections and what not aside, it was also just below where he was now. If K'aa hated things in the CIC broken, he could only imagine how he would feel about it collapsing into Deck 8, though TJ doubted that outcome...but given the history of this ship, one could never be too certain.

"What if we turn everything off on Deck 8 that is absolutly not required. The labs on Deck 10 could handle whatever Stellar Cartography and thier counterparts on Deck 8 need. No life-support, no lights...restrict the power flow to a minimum. We can hook up resonant stabilizers and phase discriminators to every power junction and tap. That would add another two hours to what we're doing, but it would also cut down on an overload by about seventy-eight percent, if not more."

Deny liked the idea, a broad smile widening on his haggard face. "I like it. Let's load the new parameters into the sim and run it again. We should make the suggestion regardless if the power conduits hold - just to be on the safe side." Darmajava's fingers flew as he entered the new revised scenario into the tactical database. "Alrighty then - we're good to go. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He nodded for Deny to start the sim.

The sim followed the new scenario flawlessly. Deck 17's power conduits still blew, but Deck 8's held. There was the usual overloads and blowouts, but nothing as deadly as the prior sim. "We did it," TJ said at near a whisper.

"YEAHHHOOO! WE DID IT!" Darmajava's delirious outburst was a sharp contrast to Tagra's quiet observation. The yell was accompanied by a hearty laugh and a friendly slap to TJ's back. "Gotta admit, when you first showed up with this idea I thought you'd hit your head in the last battle, but this is poetry, man! This is art!"

"Actually, I broke all my ribs, but close enough. I can't believe it though," TJ just looked at the holotable, eyes wide.

Smiling, the Indonesion went to another workstation and accessed the LCARS display. "Good news - K'aa's on the bridge with the Captain. If you hustle, you could certainly add to the quality of the conversation."

"Ah...no. I think I'll pass. I'm gonna go help Davidson and Oso finish up then head to Shield Control and get any loose ends taken care of." TJ downloaded everything to his PADD and sent a copy to K'aa and Dawson. He thanked Deny for everything and headed out of the CIC. Soon, everything will come together and TJ will see if his gamble will pay off.

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda

Deck 39, Main Engineering

Over the last couple weeks, TJ had been focusing on nothing but the shield modifications and now they where heading back to Romulus. Now better time for a full real-life test.

Now since the Old Man was in control, TJ had a refound hope in thier ability to win. That, and the new style ships he eyed when they took position. Strange looking, but considering that they apparently held a massive amount of fighters, he couldn't argue with the logic of its design.

His shield modifications and design had been shared with the rest of the fleet, so his gamble had grown. If it worked, those three words kept him up for hours at a time, at the expence of Jacen's patience.

After the generators where worked on, he, Davidson and Oso filled Deck 8 with all the precautions that TJ and Deny had come up with. Now, Decks 8 and 17 where evacuated due to the threat they posed to the crew. Now, all TJ could do was sit at a console in the upper areas of Engineering while the modifications came on-line. He monitored everything from the oscillations to the computer interfaces between Engineering and the CIC. He didn't doubt that Deny was doing the same upstairs.

Now, as he did not so long ago, he waited. This time, however, TJ hoped that he'd make it through without breaking anything.

? Where the Graves Their Own? ?

By Various NPC's

*****

Tal'Anathar, Romulus

*****

Three weeks ago, Tal'Anathar fell to the Hydran ground offensive.

It was a battle bloodier than expected, where the combined defenses of local Rihannsu Militia and Starfleet Security troops from the 102'nd Tars and the Last Chancers of the USS Thunderchild were not enough to blunt the initial thrust towards the capital. As a trade and transportation hub of the province and an unfortunate roadblock to the administrative heart to the empire, The Battle of Tal'Anathar Ridge became an inevitability.

The first wave of the attackers landed at the ridge of the Tal'Anathar Valley, overlooking the small city and the troops contained therein. It was there that the Hydrans positioned artillery and troops to rain down on the city's defenders, using the valley's lip to great advantage. While the rest of the army pressed on to more deadly opponents near the capital, rearguard units held back Tal'Anathar's defenders. Their defeat was an inevitability.

But the conflict in the valley didn't end there. Sometime during the seige, there was an attempt by the Rihannsu-Federation force to break out of the ring of guns and troops. Being in a valley, the defenders were at a disadvantage, and their only routes of escape were upwards, with no air or orbital support, no chance but their willingness to take appalling casulties. The best route was the main road, where the slope was at its lowest, but where its guns were the strongest. It was decided that a charge with fast transport, Federation Argo's and Hoppers as well as Romulan equivalents, were to dash out and make a run for the main force before it was too late.

A rather poor moment of judgement for the commander that forced the massacre of many good troops, and it was there that The Battle of Tal'Anathar Ridge was borne. The Hydrans needed only to wait, guns trained and locked onto target, adjusting and aiming faster than a vehicle could ever hope, and fire at the advancing troops to stop their lunacy.

What happened next was bloodier than even the conflicts in this very valley that preceeded the great migration, in which factions of the followers of the Talon fought over what was a pristine, virgin planet to make what is now today referred as the Romulan Star Empire.

Atole Tekri knew this ground well, for it was the duty of all children of the empire to know the sacrifices of heroes past to make their stellar spanning superpower. Tal'Anathar was the witness to turning points in Rihannsu history, and without its events there was no empire.

Under personal cloaking suits, her three man team of Tal'Shiar infiltrators were on the periphery of what was left of the historic city to see the results. She saw the wrecks of the war machines, a disparaging number of them Romulan, not enough Hydrans. So too were the dead, the Federation troops lifeless and red, Romulans green and pale, and still not enough Hydrans. The city, once Romulan, was filled with prisoners under the supervision of Hydran troops, its ancient spires and domes either smoking husks or planted with the banner of the Hydra.

She was sickened by the sight. ~ ? Is Tal'Anathar witnessing another turn in history? ? ~ She couldn't help but think as her infiltration team inched closer to the city on their bellies. ~ ? Here, the wars of the past helped define the empire. What am I witnessing today? Is the empire going to end on the same field where it started? ? ~ Her inquisitive mind unsatiated, she watched for Hydran patrols. There were some distant, and it looked like they were busy with prisoners. Atole Tekri signalled in Tal'Shiar silent ops sign language that they were not spotted. When they reached the shadowy shelter of an expansive (and yet untouched by war) Anatharian poplar, the infiltration team climbed up. Its branches were thick with fall leaves. They could hide here without the cloak suits being activated.

She deactivated the cloak suit with a sigh of relief. Though the Tal'Shiar said the suit was safe to wear under normal conditions, nobody was willing to put trust in it, and Atole did swear that it made her teeth vibrate. Her teammates seemed to agree. Their reshifted bodies appeared, and each wore relief on their face.

The third in the group was a younger officer named Rik'u, and he had the ernestness of youth and the strength of a bull. His intellect matched his brawn, but as a professional interrogator under the emergency draft of the Tal'Shiar's active land forces, there wasn't much to his job that needed more than his brain was capable. He was imaginative enough, and for an interrogator he was an honest and likable man.

The first of their group, however, was a man Atole Tekri respected. Arturo Rantar was a seasoned ops member of the Tal'Shiar's rapid response units. His hair was salt and pepper gray, his face seen its fair share of reconstruction from wounds varying from blade to plasma fire. Grizzled as he was, he had a wizened, protective streak with his charges and more than once did he save their lives. Originally assigned to a three man team, the rest of his unit was scattered on other parts of the Empire and cut off from the main planet. As an impromptu measure, he grabbed two eligible Tal'Shiar agents and gave them an emergency draft to join in his black ops operation. As Atole already took her physical and combat training, and experienced in spying on foreign powers, she became the second in the group.

Then they were sent to spy on enemy movements deep in their own territory. The casulty rate of this kind of mission was high, only the Tal'Shiar with their stealth suits could do it. As a further stroke of humour, high command sent Atole, thought of as a human lover, where humans were sent to fight and die.

The Tal'Shiar, she concluded, didn't know her well enough. She gladly took the mission and was yet bothered by the human component. She thought of the Terran species as no different than any other, and certainly not better than Romulans. It was one particular human she loved, but lost forever, and it was their daughter that motivated her to go when she was exhausted, fight when she was afraid.

She thought of Nuhir in the shelters, protected by family retainers.

It was her she fought for.

? Sighting ahead. Five centons, towards the city. ? Arturo whispered to Tekri's ear. The warmth of his breath, though his voice businesslike, was warm and reassuring on her neck. ? Rik'u, the recorder. ?

? Yes sir. ? Rik'u unlimbered a small hand recorder, aiming through a gap in the trees.

Atole was perplexed, but she looked with binoculars at what Arturo was hinting at. Her binoculars increased her view, and she saw well into the city limits.

A gasp escaped her lips. Arturo covered it with his hand.

? Watch. ? He hissed gently.

Her eyes wanted to pry away, but dared on by her nerves and reinforced by Arturo's steady hand, Atole watched.

She saw at the outskirts graves, thousands of them, lined in neat rows unlike the funeral pyres of a Rihannsu masoleum her kind preferred. They were human graves, dug human style, enough for their bodies to not be molested by predators and left buried inside, marked by a peculiar cross or an upturned phaser rifle with a resting helmet.

The odd sight was the humans, lined in rows and watched by Hydran shock troopers, digging more holes with the cross markers. The humans were digging graves. Atole wondered if they belonged to the diggers.

Meanwhile, Romulan civilians were in an opposing pit, digging, ragged with exhaustion under the guns of the Hydrans. Their hole was bigger and longer, and the workers didn't look like combatants. They were civilians trapped behind enemy lines. Soldiers and civilians dug. Children and the old were not even spared. All dug

Were the graves their own?

? Audio. Patch it to our suits. ? Arturo ordered.

? Aye, sir. ? Rik'u

Audio came in through Atole's earpiece. From a distance it crackled and squelched, but she heard the shovels plunge into and gouge out chunks of earth, and thud into their piles. She could even hear the ragged breathing of the humans as they dug graves. Feet shuffled in, and rifles clattered as Hydrans lined up near the graves. Despondent human faces look at their captives with forlorn hope and disdain, looking up from their shallow graves at pointed weapon.

The Hydrans barked and hissed in their garbled language. Through her translator she heard orders for the humans to stand up in front of their holes. The humans obeyed, flashes of hate in their eyes, exhaustion muting their feelings.

? Keep recording. ? Arturo whispered.

Atole interjected, ? Sir, should we not help them. It is only a small patrol. We can take them. ?

? Quiet. ? Arturo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, ? Watch. ?

On her audio feed, Atole heard the Hydran officer bark and order. The civilans stopped digging and lined themselves up to their hole. Hydran soldiers started to take position in front of the prisoners, checking the settings of their rifles and aiming them at the throng of prisoners.

Atole dreaded the sight, and begged to unseen gods for the Hydrans to stop.

One of the Federation officers, a commander with black hair, a human from the look of him, took two steps towards the Hydrans, bringing with it every rifle from their squad aimed straight for him. Bold and unafraid, though haunted by the death he saw, the officer looked defiantly at his enemy. His chin high in the air, he began to sing.

? What the devil is that noise. ? Rik'u said offhandedly, ? I swear, the man is no opera singer. ?

Atole answered, ? It is the Federation Anthem. ?

Arturo breathed, ? Good. This is what I want. Keep recording. ?

? But sir. ? Atole said.

? No! ? Arturo snapped, his patience strained, ? Watch. You'll see. ?

? No... ? Atole heard herself escape.

She lost her concentration on what she was to say while she heard the commander sing. She was unfamiliar with the words, and in their alien tongue sounded too blunt and plodding to be eloquent. But in the sight of a massacre, the last of his group standing in front of their graves, he sang it as if it was a litany, a prayer to heaven for deliverance, his final act of defiance. He sang about the love of his home, his ideals, the life he led, his ideaologies being his last weapon, pointed at the listening Hydrans like a gleaming spear.

An uncaring mass of disruptor beams cut short the anthem. The Hydrans, having enough of the last act of defiance, shot the commanding officer down. His chest sprouting a searing energy wound, his body slumped over and tumbled into the grave. The rest of his comrades followed, the Hydrans energy weapons lancing through the human's bodies. Their eyes wide with fear, the officers stood in parade ground, ramrod straightness, accepting the end.

All died in the span of ten seconds, and as flippantly as he gave the order, the Hydran officer waved over an industrial excavator, and the graves were smoothed over with dirt. The civilians at the other mass grave, looking on with terror at their captors, huddled close and didn't move away. Children huddled close to their mothers, the wounded Romulan soldiers held up by their healthier comrades, old men and young alike acting as a shield for the weaker members, looked at their captors with contempt.

The Hydran officer, with one wave, cut them all down with phaser fire. They were more numerous, and their deaths took longer, but their dicipline and bravery were no different than the stoic Federation officers. The group shrank as bodies crumpled, then the group became no more. All were dead from the Hydran's withering disruptor fire. None could survive.

The Hydran's captured excavator pushed to bodies into the mass grave and covered it over. Signalling that the operation was over, the Hydran officer, waved for his patrol to leave the mass graves alone.

All that time, Tekri did not move. She was paralyzed by the sight of so many of her countrymen, dead by a butcher's act. Her green blood boiled to a hellish simmer, until she thought the only way to cool her temperment was to take her disruptor rifle and shoot each one of the patrol dead! The dead deseved better treatment than this, she reasoned to herself, the dead did not deserve to die without a chance.

Brave soldiers. Women. Children. Easily it could have been her family, her daughter, her lover.

Her.

The butcher had to answer for his acts.

? Atole. ? Arturo snapped Tekri out of her train of thought. Even at the edge of insubordination, Arturo showed incredible patience and calm. With a mention of her name, said in his sagelike calm, stopped her impetuous actions.

She saw what she was doing. Still angered, she said, ? I am sorry, Sir. ?

He chuckled slightly, an act that brought with it a flash of anger in Tekri's throat, but swallowed when she heard the meaning behind the mirth. ? Atole, you want to go out there and avenge the fallen like a good Romulan centurion. I cannot falt you for that. We serve the people. When the people are hurt, we must save them. Your duty and your sense of honour compel you to do this. For that I am glad. ?

Rik'u scoffed, ? Mine doesn't. The civilians and soldiers did not fight well and the rest were just humans. ?

? That's because you're a fool, Rik'u, and that is why you man the recorder. ? Arturo silenced the third of the group. The hulking Rik'u shut up, leaving that confrontation wounded, and Arturo's mood yet unblighted, ? Besides, the humans held themselves well in death. In their own way, they fight to the end. A hateful stare, an anthem, trying their best to be unafraid. Their last actions still fight the Hydrans. It must make them mad. So, I must commend the humans for a brave death. In their own alien way, they acted nobly. ? He directed to Atole, ? Surely, being around humans, this comes as no surprise. ?

Atole gasped, ? Being around humans, you'll know that everything they do surprises me. You can never figure them out. ?

Arturo took her comment as a jest. ? Young one, too true. ? He said with a pat on her shoulder, ? And did you see our people? ?

Atole answered, ? I did. They died needlessly. ?

? Were you not paying attention? ? Arturo said more seriously, ? They were martyrs when presented right. Why do you think we stayed behind and recorded this instead of freeing them from this execution? Even if we could save them, what good would it do? We cannot escort them behind enemy lines, even the strongest were weary and would be hunted down by Hydran patrols easily. But in their deaths we have a more powerful weapon. Think about it, Atole. Tell me, how can this be used in our advantage? ?

Atole had to think a moment, but reflecting on it, she saw what Arturo was trying to point out all along. Their deaths, inevitable as they were, would anger the Romulans and the Federation. This treatment of their solders and the civilians would not be ignored, and would give the allies the edge against their enemy. Soldiers fought harder when their homes were destroyed, took revenge when their kin were dead, pushed harder to rescue when the innocent were in danger.

Her realization came to her, sickeningly cold. Arturo was right, and she wanted to feel guilty, but could not.

? We should get closer. ? Atole suggested, reactivating her cloaking suit, ? And get some pictures. ?

Arturo nodded, ? Ours or theirs first? ?

Atole said, ? Ours. Terrans tend to be more outraged by civilian casulties. ?

She saw Arturo nod his approval before being enveloped by the cloaking field.

"Catchup"

(12 days after the fleet withdraws - Occurs before "Snapped" and "A Kept Woman"))

Second Lieutenant Branwen London
Furies XO
Furies 188th Detachment, USS Galaxy

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

With

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

****

ch'Rihan

****

Steven couldn't help but smile. The most important woman in his life lay next to him in the bed, sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling with every steady breath she took. Locks of long raven hair, framed her gorgeous face, as the blanket, drawn up close around her neck, kept her warm in the slight chill that permeated their location. Her cheeks a slight pink shade, her pert nose resting between her enchanting eyes, closed as they now were. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek lightly, feeling her inner radiance bubbling to the surface, warming up his hand. A soft moan escaped her lips at his touch, bringing another smile to his lips.

Sighing contently, Steven lay back, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the ceiling above them. It was strange to think that with all that was going on, that love could blossom as it had. Not that he was complaining. He was in love. And that was what mattered. That so many had died trying to keep ch'Rihan free from the Hydrans was tragic. That the meager Federation and Rihannsu resistance were near defeat, forced into hiding was sad. That the Hydrans seemed to be unstoppable, wave after wave of them entering the city, bringing destruction down upon the populace was frightening. That he might lose Faylin, unfathomable.

His thoughts drifted to those back on the ship. To Nara, and Saul and even that annoying armory woman. Were they okay? Had they survived the attack? Were they, even now, preparing to come back, to drive off the Hydrans and reclaim ch'Rihan for the Rihannsu? Were they coming back for Faylin and the others? Would the Hydrans start terraforming the atmosphere to be more methane based? Could they be stopped? And if they did somehow get out of this mess, and back to the Galaxy, would Faylin want to live together? The questions kept coming. Without much in the way of answers, and the pile of questions still mounting in his mind, Steven slowly began drifting back to sleep.

A noise nearby woke him suddenly. Looking around, he saw some curtains opening a little way away, as someone made their way in his direction. With little room for everyone to find a place to sleep, makeshift walls, made out of any available material had been erected, and as it happened, Steven and Faylin had a small area roped off by some net curtains, not enough for privacy, but enough to give them and everyone else the sense of a little corner of their own. Seeing the rough shape of who it was, Steven rose and swung his legs over the small bed, letting them rest on the ground. He smiled at the newcomer. "Hi Bran."

Branwen smiled. She didn't mind her officers calling her by her first name when not on duty, she wasn't like Baile. Bran really wanted to get to know people, and be friendly. Besides they were the same rank. "Hello, Steven, good to have you back."

"I would offer you a place to sit, but as you can see, there isn't much in the way of furniture." He grinned. "What brings you to my little corner of the world?"

"Checking upon you, actually. I heard that you were pretty badly wounded earlier. How are you feeling now?" She let her eyes go over his body looking for signs of wounds or lingering injuries. "I was worried."

"I'm feeling much better," he replied. "the medics around here are good at their jobs. Despite the lack of painkillers. But apart from missing part of a toe, and the bruising along my spine and ribs, I'm fine. And you? How are you holding up?" She looked a little thinner than he remembered, but had a look about her, one he knew all to well; Experience! She had been through a lot down her and the experience was forging her into a better leader.

"I am fine. Really, Steven, it's been... Different." She said.

"I'm glad to see that you're alright," Steven smiled. "Of course I'd hate to have to break in another XO..." he grinned at the joke. "I haven't seen many of the detachment, nor Baile. Is he around?"

"I have no idea were he is." She sounded a little annoyed. "Probably on some kind of secret mission."

"Oh! So that puts you in charge of our little group then?"

"Again, I guess so." She tried to smile.

"Oh, you know Faylin right?" he asked as he followed her gaze towards Faylin's sleeping form.

"Of course. She is my JAG officer." Bran didn't know if Steven knew that sordid story, but she blushed anyway. "You guys..." It dawned on her.

"Yep. For about a week now. We hit it off back on the ship before she was deployed down here."

"That''s great news. I like her a lot." She showed him a genuine smile. "My congratulations, Steven. You deserve it."

She had said that Fay was her JAG officer, and then blushed, so it didn't take much for him to put two and two together and realize something had happened with Bran that required her services. But he wasn't going to ask about it. JAG matters usually required a little discretion. And for all he knew it could be a personal matter. "Thanks," he replied. "I still can't believe with all that has been going on, with all the destruction and death, that I could find love. But now that I have, I can't imagine what I'd do without her."

"That is a good thing. You hold onto it." She was thinking of Man'darr and how she had found love herself at last.

"Any idea when the fleet might return?" Steven always found that keeping positive in a situation, like they were in currently, was the best course of action, especially in front of the men. And though Bran was his boss, she too, sometimes might need a little reassurance. So, as he often had in the past, he had used the word 'when' rather than 'if' when talking about reinforcements.

"Not exactly. I was hoping that you had some more information on that. You were with them later than I was."

Steven shook his head. "The last thing I remember was being in Science Lab Seven when the emergency force field holding the atmosphere in gave way and I was pulled out. That was during the battle with the Hydran fleet. I only found out that the fleet retreated when I woke up on the Klingon ship."

The voices she heard were light, as if meaning to not wake her up. Somewhat still groggy, she shivered as the body heat from Steven had left her a while ago. Flipping her hand over, she felt around, the place where he lay was still warm to the touch, yet no body occupied the space.

"Steven??" Her voice was light, and whispery.

"Yeah hon," he replied as he turned his attention from the conversation with Bran, to the woman lying on the bed.

"Are you coming back to bed?"

"Soon. I'll be back soon. Just talking to Lieutenant London."

Steven saw her smile, before turning back to Bran. "If you need me for a mission, let me know. The bruising isn't as bad as it was a few days ago, and my broken rib is nearly fully healed. I'd prefer it if Fay didn't get dragged along on any missions. She's been feeling ill lately."

"I know. I examined and treated her a few days ago. She is not feeling any better?"

Steven shook his head. "She has been the same since I arrived. It does not seem to be getting worse though. So that's a good thing."

"What are her symptoms?"

"Throwing up and feeling a nauseous every now and then. Nothing major, I would just prefer to get her back to the Galaxy so they can run any tests required to determine what is wrong."

"We have a very good doctor here now. And I have learned a few skills the last couple of days, I could do a quick examination."

"I'll talk to her about your offer in the morning when she gets up." Steven tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. He had barely had any sleep in the last 24 hours and was tired. "I should hit the sack. You take care, Bran. You're our boss until Baile comes back." He grinned.

She smiled. "I will not let you down. We will all get back safely."

Steven nodded. "I know you won't let us down."

After Bran had left, he stood for a moment thinking, before finally lifting the cover up and sliding in next to Faylin. Letting the cover fall over them, he wrapped his arm around her as his body melted into the contours of her body, their body heat warming each other up. "I'm back.' he said after kissing her on the cheek.

"Retrospective Analysis"

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

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

****

Temporary Quarters
IKS T'Kengra

****

Steven lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Half dressed in trousers and little else, the tall half breed tried to comprehend what he had just done. It wasn't like he had planned to do it, it had just happened. He wasn't prone to that kind of behaviour, even after drinking as much bloodwine as he had, and reflecting, he found that he had made a monumental mistake. One that he didn't know if she'd forgive him for.

Absently he scratched at the Trill markings that surrounded his heart. He wasn't like any other Trill. He knew it, and most people that met him soon came to realize that fact. Being a half breed wasn't something he was normally to concerned about, but being that he was a bastard half breed ate at his soul, even though he knew in his heart and mind that he couldn't change who he was. Or who his parents had been. But that wasn't the issue at the present.

He had let her down, by sleeping with Kala. Drugs and Bloodwine be damned. He had fucked up and there wasn't anything in the world, or universe for that matter, that could take it back. As much as he wanted to, he knew there was nothing that he could do to change it. Not that Kala wasn't beautiful. She was, and if he didn't think of Faylin every waking minute, if he hadn't fallen for her in body, mind, heart and soul, then he would have liked to spend more time with the red headed beauty. But as it stood, he loved Faylin, and she had to come first in his life, if she'd have him, and after this recent indiscretion, he wasn't sure she'd want him anymore.

Kala had left after her shower, having barely said another word to him. And he didn't blame her. She still liked the Klingon K'Vol, even if she and he had broken up. It had been fairly obvious to him as they had fought verbally earlier. Though, with the mood she was in, Steven hoped that they might not bump into each other for a while. But with the Fleet gone and ch'Rihan basically under marshal law, it seemed unlikely that they could avoid each other aboard the Klingon ship.

He had cared for few women in his life, and had loved even fewer, but even though they had been on a solitary date, had only make love once, shortly before her deployment to the planet, Faylin held his heart in her soft supple hands, the likes of which only one other had. And that had been a long time ago.

Even now as he lay there, nothing really mattered. That there were thousands of Hydrans and many ships out there meant nothing. That the fleet was in disarray somewhere was inconsequential. That so many of his friends and comrades might be dead or wounded didn't register. The only thing he truly cared about right now was Faylin and her safety. Was he wrong to care only for Faylin and not his friends and comrades? Did it make him a bad person?

Standing up, Steven walked to the small window, looking down at the planet. The sun was on the other side of the planet, so all he could see was was a dark planet, lit buy a few spots of light where cities or towns existed. Looking into the darkness, he imagined Faylin somewhere down there, hopefully safe and well, looking up towards him. He knew it was a long shot to think that, after hearing about her unit being MIA, but he had to have hope that she was fine. It was all he really had left.

"I love you." He said softly as he looked down into the darkness. Kissing his fingertips and then pressing them to the window, he turned away. There was nothing he could do to help get to her at the moment.

Pouring himself another coffee, the last having helped greatly with the hangover, he sat at the small desk that occupied the room. Taking a large draught of the hot liquid, he picked up his rifle and began disassembling it. He wanted to make sure it was all in working order. Now that the Captain had agreed to let them do what they had planned, even if the ship and crew weren't going to get involved, he needed to make sure he'd be ready for the coming action.

Pausing for a moment, he looked back at the window and made a silent promise that he'd tell Faylin about what had happened as soon as he saw her. He didn't want any secrets between them. He didn't want to hurt her by lying and having it come out later. He loved her too much for that.

"Duty Bound"

(16 days after the fleet withdraws - Occurs before "Snapped" and "A Kept Woman"))

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG/Security, USS Galaxy

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

****

ch'Rihan

****

Steven sat on the edge of the small bed that he and Faylin shared. It didn't happen very often, but on a rare occasion, such as the one right now, Steven was speechless. He felt the weight of the world pressing down on his chest as he tried to comprehend what Faylin had just said. How could they do that? Had they no knowledge of how ill she had been recently... Steven's eyes, until now, showing the shock of her statement, closed as he tried to come up with something to say.

Finally, after a moment, he opened his eyes again, to look into hers.

"Are you sure you have to go?"

"Positive." Faylin stated simply.

Steven's head slumped at her reply. "You did tell them that you had been feeling nauseous not half an hour ago right?"

"Yes, but it's just nerves Steven. I always get nauseated before anything big happens. It happened all the time when I first starting judges cases." She laughed lightly, attempting to ease his fears.

"And I can't change your mind?" He asked reaching out to take her hand in his. Her skin felt soft to his touch, so unlike his own rough hands. He didn't want her to go. Not after just they had found each other. Steven didn't want to lose her; not like he had 'Bella. And definitely not on the Romulan homeworld.

"It's my duty to the fleet. Whether or not I want to go, I have to.

Now, stop worrying, I'll go kill some Hydrans and be back in time for dinner." Faylin stood, grabbing her rifle as she did time and time before.

"I know it is, but I only just found you. I don't want to lose you."

"I'll be back. I promise."

"I won't lose you." he muttered quietly as he released her hand and stood up. Reaching down, he picked up his armor from the floor and slipping it over his head and onto his chest. He wasn't going to let her get hurt. He wasn't going to let her get hurt.

"You....have to stay here Steven." She stated with determination

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Why? Um, perhaps because of your ribs not being healed yet. Look, I know that you are worried. I'd be fibbing if I said I wasn't worried to. However, being here with all these marines has toughened me up a lot. Heck, I'm turning into a crack shot believe it or not.

Everything will be back to normal soon. You'll see. Now, I have to go."

Steven chuckled. "You know, we've had this conversation before. Back on the Galaxy before you were deployed. Seems like a lifetime ago." He removed the armor and placed it on the ground.

"I love you Steven." She said quietly. "I'll be back."

"I know you will." he replied as he took a step forward. "And I love you too Faylin." Steven reached out, and drew her to him for a kiss.

"I know........." She stated, returning the kiss.

"I love you." He reiterated as he stepped back. "Now go, before I change my mind and suit up." Steven smiled. "Please be careful. I want you back safe and sound."

"It's the Hydrans you need to be worried about......I'll kill them with legal terminology." Chuckling, she left the room.

(No timestamp)

"Losing ground - pt 1"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, Marine CO, USS Galaxy

Somewhere on Romulus

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

The dirty and scraped figure ran as fast as it could across the jagged rocks. Fatigue burned in tired legs, lungs desperately fed oxygen into the bloodstream. The torso was bare, scratched and cut in several places. Dark bruises peered out behind black figures out the skin.

Stones scraped underneath the boots as the figure ran, no, sprinted in a darkness so utterly black it felt like running through mud. Yet the man ran, sprinted in the midst of sharp and jagged rocks that any safe man would have thought twice before treading upon.

Suddenly the ground opened up into a fifteen feet drop. The bottom was decorated with more of the sharp and jagged volcanic like rock, a deadly embrace waiting for the fools daring to descend.

The figure didn't hesitate. Such action never entered the mind of the bruised figure crossing the rocky terrain in a mad pace. A booted foot landed on the very edge of the drop and a tired leg propelled the body up.

The ground beneath rushed towards the figure, a jagged blade waiting to tear the skin off the intruder.

Massive muscles absorbed nearly all of the impact, but the figure was still too exhausted, too tired to stop the balance from shifting forward.

Instincts and reflexes took over and the dirty creature broke the fall by rolling over the shoulder. The result was painful. Sharp rocks cut the already scarred skin. Old wounds broke open and blood started oozing from the newly opened cuts. A point piece of rock pierced the skin and snapped off as the figure rolled along the ground.

A hand reached up and grabbed the protruding volcanic rock and tore it out before the roll was fully completed and the figure continued running.

Stopping was not an option. It would be a failure and the simple truth was the failure was simply not a part of the universe in which the figure lived.

Teeth bared in an snarl of both pain and rage. How long had he been on the run? Two days? Three? He didn't know. Fatigue waited in the corner of his mind, luring him with promises of sleep if he just stopped and rested. Only for a minute. Surely he could stop for a minute?

The snarl became a growl, a deep inhuman growl filled with bitter and deadly determination. The voice he had come to know since he started his frantic run boomed in his head again. "MOVE!!!"

He picked up the pace again until he sprinted across the rocky plains again.

Time was not on his side, nor was his strength. He felt the other lure. The one that was all the more potent that the desire to rest.

War.

Engage the enemy.

Tear them apart with his bare hands.

The muscles in his back, in his legs and arms felt like loaded springs at the sheer thought. He could almost smell it. The taste of combat, the rush of adrenaline through his mind, the strength coursing through his body. They could not stop him if he gave in. Kill him, yes. But stop him? No. They wanted him unharmed.

He slammed down on the rising desire to turn around like a sledgehammer. NO!

He would not let them kill him. There was a time for battle and that was not now. Blinking furiously he looked up towards the dark sky. The alien eyes he had been given a lifetime ago cut through the darkness effortlessly.

The darkness parted and revealed the purple tint the once proud and beautiful world of Romulus was now bathed in. Frost covered the rock. He hadn't even noticed the cold. It just wasn't there for him to feel. For once the numbness was a blessing, he knew that, but it wouldn't last forever.

Eventually the numbing cold would reach his bones, slow him down. He continued sprinting, sometimes leaping over small chasms and propelling himself over boulders that came in his way.

Accidents can happen to the best of persons. Weapons can break for the best of warriors. He was no exception. Suddenly he lost his footing. He cursed, but he wasn't sure if he did it out loud or just in his mind. The line between the speaking out loud and thinking it in his mind had been blurred almost from the instance he had set his foot on this accursed planet. His grim determination not to start fighting was blown away when his concentration was shattered like frozen glass.

Slowly, like watching a movie from afar, he felt time slow down, felt every single pebble underneath his foot that the boot slid over. He felt the smell of the volcanic rocks, the leather on his boots, the sweat that ran down his back, the dirt and blood on his skin. The man nearly screamed in despair. He fell for what seemed like an eternity until he finally landed on his side, tearing up both his back and the back of his legs on the frozen and jagged rocky surface. The blood glistened on the black rock, like the rock itself had started bleeding. Furiously he tried to get back up on his feet, but the slope had him in its power. Gravity won as he slid faster and faster on the rocky ground. The jagged rock turned his pants to shreds, pierced his skin with a lust for blood and tore deep into his flesh. Despite the pain and slippery surface he almost got to his feet. Almost. Had he not been so tired, had his legs not been so fatigued he would never have fallen. Now he was unable keep his balance as the sheer momentum he was picking up hurled him back up on his feet again. A heavy muted thud echoed as his head impacted with a large rock.

The shower of pebbles died out and soon the frozen rocky landscape was silent again.

"Losing ground - pt 2"

Jebidiah Baile, Marine CO, USS Galaxy

Location - unknown.

"There are other worlds than this one."

The Gunslinger by Stephen King

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

Past, future, present?

The darkness was blissful. Silent and void of light. It was the sleep of the newborn cub. No faces that spoke silent words and accusations to him. No memories of fallen comrades and.. and.. battles.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe it had finally ended on a rocky slope on the plains of Romulus. He liked to think so. Even the fires in his mind was gone, their usual roar muted to the point where he could not hear it.

"How is he?" a voice asked, breaking the silence surrounding him. Someone had found him. Maybe marines or someone else from Starfleet.

Silence.

Suddenly he could hear the soft clicking of heels and something or someone touched him. "As close to dead as he's ever been." A female voice replied.

There was annoyance in that voice. He knew he should recognise it. It should mean something but whatever the meaning of it was, that meaning was just out of reach.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. "Rest brother.. you fought well this day." The first voice said to him. A strange feeling rose inside Baile. Like the feeling of being praised by a father. "Make sure he rests. How long until he's up again?" the same voice asked, but in a much lower voice.

"At least two days." The female replied. "He got shot three times. I've cleaned the wounds and he's already started to heal." The rest of the conversation was lost in the darkness that came down over him like a blanket of nothingness.

*****

"Rise and shine, brother.." the same male voice cut through the shroud surrounding him. Suddenly his senses came to him again. The smell of blood and adrenaline made him get up on his feet with near mind numbing speed. The reward for the feat was a spell of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

A strong arm grabbed him and held him up on his feet. "Easy does it, Brother..easy does it. "

Pain shot up Baile's legs and he would have fallen if it had not been for the arm holding him up. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the pain vanished and the dizziness faded, leaving only a faint echo of its former glory. He opened his eyes, blinked at the light and turned his head slowly from side to side. The interior of a spaceship greeted him, metallic and cold. No, not cold. Unbreakable. Just like the voice that had spoken to him.

The very voice that had kept him moving earlier, where ever that had been.

He felt the grip around his arm soften slightly as he seemed to be able to stand on his own. He shook his head to get the final remnants of haze out of his mind.

"Hard to kill you are." the male voice chuckled. Baile turned his head to look at the owner of the voice. It belonged to a tall man, nearly six foot ten and dressed in a dark uniform. The man was powerfully built, but not overly so. Instead he moved with the grace of a cat, ready to strike at a moments notice. Two heavy guns rested on the man's hips, each of them resembling small hand cannons rather than handguns. The body and leg armor was well worn and showed signs of heavy battle but it was in peak condition none the less.

Suddenly Baile's voice spoke, but Baile was not the one that controlled it.

"Next time I'll charge in naked."

The man chuckled at the words. "As much as Kelsin would enjoy the view the rest of us would not."

Baile felt his face stretch into a grin. "Brother.. " he said and stretched out his arm, grabbing the other man's arm in a grip that would have sent many a man into tears.

"It is good to see you among the living again, Brother." The man replied.

"You gave us quite the scare.. and Boothor is angry at you for ending the party on his own."

What the hell was this? Baile had no idea, and he knew even less who the hell Kelsin or Boothor was and he didn't have a clue who this 'brother' of his was. "How did we do?" he heard himself ask as he walked over to a locker.

"The Intel was good.. the telepaths attacked where we thought they would.

Not a single on of them escaped. We mounted their heads on sticks outside the city. The Pilgrims told me the body count ended at almost two thousand and the Black Templars takes credit for half of that.." a very satisfied look came over tha face of the man. "Again the Black Templars walk in glory."

His own face sneered in contempt. "Glory? There was no honor in that.

skirmish.. Where stood their champions? Where was Heth? Where was Lyrith?!"

he roared with enough fury to make the man take a step backwards. "Not until they fall will the Black Templars walk in glory! Not until then!" he slammed his hand into the locker, twisting the metal door out of shape. Inside Baile recognised the feeling that had come over him. Bloodrage. But he, or what ever the hell he was, didn't shun it like he did himself. He didn't struggle with it like he did- Whoever he was here embraced it. It was a part of him in a way Baile both feared and envied.

"Easy Brother.. " the man replied. Seek death if you want to, but Do not make others do the same."

Baile looked at the lockerdoor with some distaste. "Trust me Brother.. it is not my death I seek.. it is that of my.. our.. enemies." He didn't even have to say out loud what he meant. The man understood it perfectly. That was a part of their gift. The battle instinct. It had been given to them to maximize their effectiveness in battle, but it had evolved into something beyond what their masters had intended. But as usual their masters were blind to what was happening to their children.

The man simply nodded and waited for Baile to retrieve his clothes. No further words were needed.

They walked through the ship, which looked far more than a battleship than anything he had ever seen. Every bolt, every plate had one purpose - war.

Final and utter war. He had never set his foot in something like this and yet he knew that he could find his way through the entire ship. This was not something the Federation had built or any other species he had heard of for that matter.

"The Marshal Templar wants to talk to you, Brother.." the man said as they had walked in silence for a few minutes. To that he could simply nod, or rather that's what he felt himself do. He felt an enormous amount of respect for the title Grand Templar and it irritated him. He felt himself lock arms with the man again and they went separate ways.

(No timestamp)

"Losing ground - pt 3"

Lt Jebidiah Baile, Marine CO, USS Galaxy

Somewhere on Romulus

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

His body twitched like a body can do when it's just fallen asleep. Or maybe he just imagined it all. It didn't really matter.

It smelled of blood. His blood. He opened his eyes with a snarl on his face.

The pain from his back and his legs brought him back from the abyss. Almost instantly it vanished just as it had since someone had given him a genetic assjob inside the Hydran Temple. It freaked him out to no end. He blinked against the purple sky. How long had he been out? Ten minutes? An hour? A minute? A day? Slowly he got up from the ground. He touched the back of his legs and felt tiny pebbles embedded in his muscles. Angrily he pulled a few splinters out, but stopped when he realised he didn't feel anything. For all he knew he could be making the injury worse than it already was.

Baile knew pain. It had been a part of his life for very long now and injuries such as his should have crippled him or at least forced him to stagger forward one small step at time with pain shooting up to his head like red hot spears, but he felt nothing. Not a damn thing. At first he had relished the sensation. Such a gift had made him incredibly hard to stop.

His body simply turned off the pain when it reached a certain level but never like this. The back of his legs was badly injured and yet he felt ready to run for another two days. He touched the wounds again. The blood had already begun to coagulate, but he knew he could no longer use that to try and determine how long he had been out.

He sniffed the air. Something was out there. Something. big. The smell came down wind, to the south. The same direction he had been running in. He looked south and for once the alien eyes that had once belonged to one of the fiercest predators in the Galaxy didn't reflect the faint light since there was no light to reflect. He felt his eyes adapt to the purple darkness, much like his human eyes had adapted to darkness once a lifetime ago. Shortly afterwards he began to move.

For the first time in a very long time he wished Maya was still in his mind.

She would probably had been able to explain what was happening to him, but she wasn't. She had done something to him and then. For good? He didn't know. But he knew he would have preferred her tormenting company to the silence in his mind. It was slowly driving him insane. Baile took a deep breath and nearly choked as his senses told him what it contained. Hydran scent.

That was it.

The bloodrage washed over Baile like a tidal wave and he gave in. How he hated them. He wanted to hurt them, make them cry out for their gods before killing them. Had Baile been able to see himself from the outside he would have seen himself straighten his back and stand with a pride and strength he didn't know he possessed. That really wasn't his and had never been. He picked up the pace and ran south, towards the object and focus of his hate.

Death began to move on Romulus.

When it was all over Baile remembered only three things. The first was the way with which time had slowed down. It had seemed almost elastic at the time, the seconds seeming to last just as long as he needed them to. The second was the calmness with which he had fought. He had always prided himself in being a very level headed fighter, but never anything like that.

Never. It took him a few seconds to admit it to himself, but he had to in the end. It scared him.

But the third had been the strangest thing. He had never faced a Hydran in brutal combat before. All he knew was that they were incredibly strong and a lot faster than they looked like. And yet he dodged and parried nearly everything they had thrown at him. It had not been because he had been better than they had. Both Hydrans had been formidable fighters. No, it was as if he had understood what they were doing just as they decided to do it and even before that once or twice.

Experience had taught him to predict his opponents, but a new species wiped that slate clean. All species had their own way of fighting, their own way of doing things and the Hydrans was no exception to that rule. He had simply known. That disturbed the marine greatly. One did not simply 'know' what the opponent was going to do, much less come up with a defence for it. Maybe a skilled hand to hand expert who had specialized in fighting other species did, but he wasn't one of those. Definitely not. He knew how to fight, yes.

He was a brutal and efficient fighter ,but he had never fought something with three arms and three legs and yet he had known how. Known as if it had been the only thing he had done in his entire life.

"Shit.." he let out the last of the breath he had held.

That had never happened before. Never. But he knew what was coming next. He watched the two dead Hydrans. There was no remorse or regret inside him.

Such feelings had never been common in his mind. War had no place for such thoughts in his world. Less than a year ago he would have cherished both the victory and his new.. abilities, but now he wanted nothing more than to be human again. Or at least know he wasn't going insane. That was the last thought that was in his mind when the exhaustion caused the mental pain block to snap. He fell to his knees. His muscles contracted so violently he was sure they would snap in two. His arms and back cramped so bad the veins on his arms looked as if they were about to explode and shower him in blood, leaving him to bleed to death. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even scream and God knew he tried. Oh how he tried to call out the despair and curses his heart held. He grabbed a hold of rock and almost instantly understood what a bad idea that had been. The edges of the rock cut deep into his hand from the crushing force with which he held it. Baile tried to curl up into a ball, his body wanted so desperate to crawl into a foetus position but it couldn't. The dirt on his body mixed with blood even further, creating a grotesque image, a prehistoric beast of sorts, crawling around on the rocky surface which tore the skin.

He panted. God he was tired. This time it had been bad. The worst seizure yet. He cursed himself for giving in. One more seizure like that and he'd start to tear muscles apart. Each seizure was worse than the one before and the first one had been bad to begin with. He looked at his hand, saw the scar after the Warden's branding. It was almost gone now. Nothing but a pink scar that would soon be gone.

The marine tried to get up, but gave up. He was weaker than an infant right now. So he kept looking at his wrist. 'Property of..' it read. Property of what? He didn't know. He sure as hell wasn't his own master any more or had ever been. As a child he had been his father's punching bag. Then, for too many years, his ass had belonged to the marines and Colonel Smith. But back then he had at least know whom his ass had belonged to. Now he didn't have a fucking clue. The fatigue had almost put out the fires inside of him. His mind was tired, more tired than he ever remembered being, but somehow it was also clearer, distant in a way, than it had been in a long time.

When had he begun to be so angry? After Maya had died? After I killed her, he corrected himself. You could paint a pig green and call it a toad but it would still be a pig. He could tell himself that Maya had just.. died, but it wouldn't change the fact that she had died by his hands. But at least he hadn't let anyone else do it or maybe he should have? Maybe he should have let Saar do it. Saar hadn't been like the others. To Saar killing had been a job, not a.. what was the word.. a hobby. Not quite the word he was looking for but it was close enough. But then again Baile had dragged her into it, had opened the door to his own demented and twisted little existence where people betrayed each other on a regular basis and secrets meant everything.

Now he had one more secret to keep and no one to share it with. But considering the rate at which the seizures came that would soon no longer be a problem.

They say animals knew when they were dying and if he knew that he was then what did that make him?

{{OOC: Takes place considerably before 'Blitzkrieg' }}

"Strange Names"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Exeter

Ensign Bliss Hawkins (NPC, Scott)
Tactical Officer, USS Exeter

Soundtrack: 'Strange Names' - Tsubasa Chronicle Future Landscape I

After nine rounds of Dozosi, the lower part of the game table was filled with black discs, and the vertical pole hosted less and less pink ones. Lieutenant Mullen, the Exeter's executive officer, examined his situation carefully before arching his fingers. As a result, another pink disc ascended one level, turning red and blocking the passage of two pink discs.

The Tellarite on the opposite side nodded. "Ah, glorious. Too bad--" he made a circle with his finger, and another red disc turned black and fell the final three levels, "that you think like a Human when playing. I guess that if we played... chess, was it? The odds were opposite."

Mullen shrugged. "I'm getting there, mister Sfamnun. So how's the new department head?"

The Tellarite watched him with his sunken eyes.

"They say he's a friend of Elessidil."

Dag Sfamnun wasn't stupid, nor blind. He figured that Mullen had no big love for the Exeter's acting Captain. Heck, he knew how it felt when someone dropped an officer on top of your head in your own home turf; They did the same to him.

His appreciation of Lieutenant Mullen only grew as he watched the Lieutenant handle it; He had much less patience toward this Lieutenant Bental. The man had no formal Tactical training beyond what they teach at Starfleet Academy, and zero experience on an Ambassador class.

"What do you suggest I do?" Ensign Sfamnun asked, wishing for a piece of wide advice from the respected Lieutenant.

"Is there any question?", Mullen asked flatly as he did his next move on the Dozosi field. "Do your best."

* * *

The moment Saul entered the holodeck, he knew that he's going to win his department with ease. He'll just need to think of the right time, and he'll have them eating from his palm. No problemo.

"Shalom all." He beamed, inspecting the men standing there. They were all male, and all Tellarites; Two of them were Ensigns, and the other two NCOs. None of them seemed happy, but since when did Tellarites look cheerful? At best, they looked hungry.

"I'm Saul Bental, your new Tactical Chief. And I'm not going to waste your time with speeches when we have the entire Hydran fleet to mess with."

Just then, a petite Terran female came in, quickly fixing her blond hair into new braids. She hurried to her spot at the end of the line and went into Academy-grade full attention. She stuck her chest out and awaited orders.

Saul nodded in vague recognition of the Ensign. The manifest said she was transferred from the Galaxy, yet she must've arrived to the Gal after he was moved back to intelligence. He noted that the Tellarites were also gawking at her, somewhat disturbed by her perfect cadet posture which contradicted their sloppy stance.

"All right. We're going to run a little simulation. It will be a full fleet engagement - I don't see a point starting with one on one sorties with so little time on our hands. Now, I'm confident that you guys know the Hydrans' Tactical review portfolio by heart. So who wants to fly a Hydran cruiser for this one? I need two."

One of the Tellarites, an ensign, growled. "What will YOU fly, Saul Bental?"

"Me and the other remaining officers will take the Tactical posts on two Ambassador class, with weapons operators doing their roles on those ships as well."

The officer who spoke grabbed the shoulder of the other Tellarite ensign. "We'll take it." He said flatly.

"Good. Then Ensign Hawkins will take the other Ambassador. You'll have a simulated bridge crew, but the Tactical calls are eventually yours and not the Captain. Questions?"

Silence.

"OK, simulation starts in three minutes." He concluded. He realized the burden on the Exeter's original Tactical team must be heavy, having lost most of their comrades and their commander. He won't let them sink into melancholy, however, but rather sweep them by a brisk attitude and a full load of training. He wasn't Miramon, counsellor Brian or the Parri woman, but he thought his approach was pretty good even without an entire psychological theory to back it.

* * *

Several hours and eight battles later, the five Tactical crewmembers lined up in front of their department head for debriefing.

"Have you READ the Hydran Tactical portfolio?" He demanded, eyeing the Tellarite ensigns.

"Don't expect the Hydrans to fight like your books say they will, INTELLIGENCE." The Tellarite retorted.

"I don't. If anything, I expected you to fight better." Saul didn't feel that he needed to expand on this point, as he and Bliss wiped out the Tellarite ensigns in seven out of the eight battles.

Frustrated, the Tellarite murmured something in his own language.

The Dutchman smirked - it was the opening he was waiting for ever since entering the holodeck.

He answered in Tellarite, with a near-perfect accent.

The effect was immediate. All the Tellarite - except for the disgruntled one - broke into what the Tellarites probably considered as laughter. In Saul's ears, it was a series of broken sneers - but oh, what a lovely music it was.

Bingo.

"Get some rest, gentlemen, and go over the Tactical portfolio. We'll meet here again in eight hours, when you'll be fresh enough to review our exercise. Night."

As the Tellarites left, Bliss approached the Lieutenant.

"I'm not sure I got it.", She said cheerfully.

"Your universal translator didn't lie." Saul chuckled. "I DID tell that his mother must've fasted during the entire pregnancy. When you grow around Tellarites, you learn to appreciate their, um, unique sense of humor."

"Unique." Bliss repeated. "Yes. That's one way to look at it."

"Black Sword "

Ensign David Walker
Chief Navigation Officer, USS Exeter

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Exeter

===

Getting the Exeter back to as close to fighting shape as possible had been, so far, easier said than done. The ship had needed a lot of work after the battle over Romulus, and with such an inexperienced crew, getting it running again was proving difficult. David had his officers assisting the engineers with repairs on the Exeter's navigational systems when not running through combat drills to get them all ready for the next time they went into battle.

David had been working tirelessly to prepare his department for anything Captain Elessidil planned to throw at them. He took on extra tasks, made sure to interact with his officers often so that they would want to work for him, and not just do what he told them to just because he was placed in charge of them, and he wasn't sure if he was getting enough sleep because of it all. Most people might not have been able to deal with the stress and near-exhaustion, but to be honest, David loved this. This was what he'd signed up for in the first place; not the long hours or barely four hours of sleep a night, of course, but sometimes that was part of the job.

Another part of the job had been barely finding time to actually have a lunch where he could sit down and relax for a few minutes, but today had finally presented David the opportunity. He held a tray in one hand and a large mug of coffee in the other as he searched the galley for a free table, and finally he came upon a familiar face. He couldn't keep himself from grinning as he walked over to the table, stopping next to the man sitting down at it, who currently had his nose buried in a PADD.

"Well, well, look who it is," he said cheerfully, and as the man turned to look up at him, David smirked. "Been keeping yourself busy, Saul?"

Saul put the PADD face-down on the table, and repaid David with a smirk of his own.

"So that's what the BUPERS cat dragged in." He chuckled. "Take a seat, David."

He still pronounced David's name in that annoying manner - the 'a' sounding more like 'uh' rather than 'ey'. Saul always insisted that this was the name's original Hebrew pronunciation, while David thought it sounded moronic. At least he didn't call him Dave, though.

"I do recall seeing your name on the newcomers' list." Saul stated dryly. As far as he was concerned, David will never find out Saul's involvement in his transfer to the Galaxy. "The department looked wrong, though; This boat's a hundred times bigger than the bumblebees you're used to - and I use the term charitably - 'pilot'."

The "pilot" chuckled at that as he sat down across from Saul. "Yeah, well, so far I haven't had any problems. This is what I originally trained for, remember, flying those bumblebees was just what the brass thought was best for me at the time." David raised his coffee to his lips and took a long drink of it. "What's a spook like you doing running a Tactical department, anyway?" he inquired, glancing down at the PADD that was lying on the table.

Saul grimaced visibly. He disliked the term 'spook'. He didn't understand intelligence officers like McKeon who adopted it fondly.

"It's a temporary gig." He explained. "I used to be CTO on the Galaxy for several months while they were busy looking for someone who can actually shoot better than a pacifist Tribble on drugs. Anyway, as I said in the staff meeting, the Exeter's Tactical department was nearly wiped out AND Captain Elessidil is a personal friend from the Galaxy, so I came to help."

"So when they couldn't find someone who could actually shoot better than a pacifist Tribble on drugs, they settled for you?" David shook his head, a short chuckle escaping his lips. "I think they would have been better off with the Tribble." He took a bite of his meal, and instantly regretted it. The replicators must not have been fully repaired yet, because David couldn't remember ordering cardboard for lunch.

The Dutchman grinned nastily. With Walker, it seemed like only a few days passed since they last fenced with words, not four years. Much of the teasing he applied on Miramon were developed for and tested on Cadet David Maximilian Walker - and he was a rather skillful test subject, as much as Saul hated to admit it.

"So, what have you been up to after you miraculously graduated?" He asked David.

The helmsman's laugh was muffled as he drank some more of his coffee. "I wouldn't be teasing someone about barely graduating, Saul," he replied as he set the mug down. "As I recall, you were the one who needed a tutor, not me."

Saul rolled his eyes. The said tutor existed, and actually served as the Galaxy's chief of science when Saul came aboard. Small universe.

"Who needs infinitesimal calculus, anyway." He commented, then let David proceed with his story.

"I spent a year or so in the Starfighter Corps," Walker continued. "At first I thought I'd hate it, but you wouldn't believe how much freedom a fighter pilot has. I mean, when they're not fighting for their lives," he added.

"I had a lot of fun in those days, and I met a lot of good people, but then most of my squadron got shot down by some pirates. Oh, and they put me in a coma, too. It was fun." He stopped there, going quiet for a moment.

Saul watched him expectantly, curious just what portion of his pride was lost in that coma.

"So that's my career in a nutshell. Instead of being on the fast track, I got complacent in the Starfighter Corps and almost ruined my career," David finally continued. "Not exactly where I saw myself two years after graduation, but what can I do?" he asked with a resigned shrug, and finished his coffee. He had a lot of reports to go over today, and he'd need the extra jolt.

"That's why I wanted to come to the Galaxy. You guys seem to be involved in everything that matters. I figure if I'm going to get my career back on track, the Galaxy seems like the best place to do it." He gave the intel officer a sidelong glance, smirking at him. "Though I'm not too sure about that now, after finding out the Federation's most duplicitous Dutchman is part of her crew..."

"Don't think it was easy." Saul sneered. "Remember the first assignment I got after graduating? The one I told you I can tell you nothing about? Well, it lasted a very... interesting year, but in the end a poor set of incidents ended it abruptly. But after a year of analyzing intel on Earth, I arranged my transfer to the Gal. And you're right - the ship DOES shove its nose in everything that matters. Nearly got us killed at Havras, and now at Romulus."

He paused for a moment. "Say, the pirates that got to you, they weren't Driznok, were they?"

David had been poking at his cardboard with a fork, but he looked up sharply when Saul mentioned the Driznok, his fork clattering on the plate as he let it go. "How did you know that?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Black Sword. Ah, crap." Saul murmured.

"What, Saul?"

"It IS a damn small Galaxy, David. I did some research on the bastards just before I got transferred from SFI HQ to the Galaxy. I always had this nagging feeling that if my desk insisted more, Starfleet would allocate some more ships to get rid of these privateering scum."

David's eyes hardened. "Apparently Starfleet didn't consider them a 'viable threat,'" he replied scornfully. "My squadron and I were on a simple CAP through the system; there had been reports that vaguely mentioned possible Driznok activity in the area, but nothing concrete, so we weren't expecting to get hit.

"Turns out we got a little too close to one of their staging areas for comfort, and they tried to chase us off. They took out almost half the squadron before we knew what was happening, and by the time our backup arrived, the bastards had already bugged out." He looked down for a moment, remembering that terrible day that claimed the lives of his friends, and nearly his own as well. "What do you know about them?" he asked, finally raising his eyes again.

"It's complex." Saul shook his head. "The bastards did a nasty trick - they faked the hijacking of a new shipment of their own battle cruisers, and used it to privateer against their neighbours. We called it 'Black Sword' - and it took some spunk to wield it. Anyhow, the Driznok are indifferent to the UFP - I know how it sounds, but you were probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. Screw them - the Hydrans caused more damage on ch'Rihan than the Driznok would cause in a millenia."

The Alaskan sighed. "I know, damn it. The Driznok are small-time, hardly worth the Federation's effort. And maybe it wasn't personal for them, but they sure as hell made it personal for me when they murdered my friends," he said. "Look, I'm not worried about them right now--but someday I'd like to pay them back for what they did. Until then...." He grinned suddenly. "We have a planet to retake, right?"

"Yea, and it looks like this specific piece depends on you and me." Saul gestured at the hall around them. It was quite incredible to think that senior cadet Bental and cadet Walker were now responsible for the weapons and helm of a ship about to participate in one of the most important battles of the century.

"I say we wield our own black sword." Saul suggested as he stood up, "And stick it up the Hydrans' triple-holed ass."

(OOC - Set prior to Blitzkrieg)

Personal Log - Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Stardate 50611.11

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

"Computer, begin personal log."

"It's. it's been over a week now.." pausing a moment Kimberly let her thoughts wander as she watched the comings and goings outside her office, absently cradling her drink she closed her eyes to the sights she's hoped to never have to see again and wished for a moment she could block the memories as easily. "Casualties in sickbay have been reduced to all but the most seriously wounded, and most of them should be either released to quarters in a day or so or transferred to the Olympic, assuming nothing stupid happens.

Critical cases have already been transferred to the Olympic, so we're almost ready for the next fight." Sounding less that thrilled at the thought of more carnage in her sickbay she turned her back on the ward beyond.

"There's still no word on Dhani though!" taking a gulp of coffee she grimaced at the cold bitter liquid and literally threw the full cup into the replicator and recycled it, stabbing at the panel on the wall viciously, "none of the Starfleet ships have anyone matching her description, and the Rihannsu haven't reported her either. Unless she managed to make it to ch'Rihan." ordering another cup of coffee she took a drink heedless of the heat of the beverage.

"Though I've been aboard a while now I think she's the first person I've really started to get to know well, and now she may be."

shaking her head to dismiss the thought she closed her eyes for a moment and let the wave of emotion pass. "I lost enough friends in the last 'Tyen-sah' war, I don't want to loose any more in this one.." She snapped to the air, "A futile wish I know, considering what's already happened! It's like a fire, we're all drawn to it like moths, and some of us get burned." Looking at the reports she'd finally gotten around to, the lists of WIA, KIA and MIA she brushed them off her desk angrily. In some ways the MIA list was the hardest to deal with she admitted to herself. You just didn't know. ~ and sometimes you don't want to know ~

"But I do want to know this time," she admitted softly, "I want to know where my friend is. I want to know she's okay, I want her to walk in the door and complain about having to have a physical, or bitch about something else being broken, or about the ship needing fixing. Anything, anything except the not knowing!" she asked of the air.

"Oh Goddess," she muttered quietly, sinking to her knees she dropped her mug and did something she so rarely did recently. She prayed. "You whose voice I hear in the winds, and whose breath gives life to all the worlds, hear me I beg of you."

"I come before you, one of your children. I am small and weak. I need your strength and your wisdom. Make me wise, so that I may know and understand the things you have taught. I seek your strength not to be superior to others, but to be able to fight my greatest enemy, myself."

"Protect me and my friends in these dark days. Send your white light around me and send your protective light around Dhanishta that she may be protected. As she travels and as she dreams."

"Dear friend, May the brightest of blessings Surround thee this night. For thou art cared for."

"Blessed Mother care for her. Blessed be."

For a moment Kimberly knelt and remembered prayers she hadn't thought about in weeks, or months. Then after a while stood and wiped her eyes, grateful no one had interrupted her or chosen that moment to walk in. ~ Work. ~ she decided.

".."

Sighing she got another drink, kicked off her boots and sat down. Tucking her feet up under her as she slowly sipped her coffee she idly rifled through the case notes on her desk, not entirely focussed on the work before her as she scanned updates and checked reports she continued to mumble to the computer, "I'm getting a backlog of counselling case work as well, but with only one of me to go around I've had to put all but the priority cases on hold for now. Hopefully once the situation calms down I'll be able to spend some time talking to everyone," dropping a few more PADD's into the wastebasket under her desk she filed them there for a future time, "so much to do. So little time."

"And so much for exploration and discovery. It looks like war is going to be our business for a while, again. You'd think with space being so vast everyone could figure out a way to live with each other. Sure.. but then how did Shakespeare put it.. 'We go to gain a little patch of ground, That hath in it no profit but the name.. Witness this army, of such mass and charge.. Exposing what is mortal and unsure, To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Even for an eggshell."

"I'm also drinking way too much coffee!" she added absently.

"End log entry."

OOC - occurs just prior to Blitzkreig

"Vice President of Sales and Marketing, IKS Darchak, Ltd."

General Vergh, Commander Klingon 8th Fleet
Captain T'Leer, IKS Darchak
Pilot "Stubbs" Taev, way WAY over his head.

Main Bridge, IKS Darchak
===================

To say that it had been an interesting week for Galaxy's lone Ferengi pilot would be disservice to the concept of "understatement".

Taev had abandoned his post on the Galaxy, went blindly searching for the Klingon fleet, delivered Kol's dying words to his Klingon brethren, defended himself in a duel with the Darchak's second officer, and found himself before the assorted leadership of Starfleet, the Klingon 8th Fleet, the surviving Rihansu leadership, and the new Reman force commanders.

Mere "interesting" just didn't cut it.

Now, with the meeting over, the Klingon command returned to their ships, Ferengi in tow, to prepare to meet the Hydrans and their allies over ch'Rihan.

There was a lot to complain about. Klingon armor chafed in all the wrong areas, no matter how it was adjusted. The quarters were cramped, damp and foul. Then there was the smell, and things spoken in mutters that a person with Taev's lobes shouldn't be exposed to - whispers of envy and ambition.

It gave the Ferengi a feeling of being a cross between a court jester and a very sought-after appetizer.

Vergh, of course, didn't give a targ's ass about the discomfort of one of his underlings, no matter how unusual they are. "Promotions!", he growled, a deep rumbling basso. "L'Teer – the Darchak remains my flagship, but the Captaincy is now yours. Serve her well! K'plah!"

The lithe, female Klingon gave her former captain, now general, a wolfish smile. "K'plah General!" She then turned and toasted her crew, who roared back in acceptance.

Even on the bridge, bloodwine flowed during a change of command, and Vergh had led the Darchak to many victories during and since the Dominion Wars. L'Teer had been his right arm throughout, and the general mood of the Klingon warship neared battle-frenzy. They craved the upcoming battle – they thirsted for it – and only one figure didn't imbibe of the wine or join in the songs

Sipping a Sluggo-cola and looking wide-eyed at the celebration around him, Taev wondered if spending the rest of his life in a Starfleet detention cell wouldn't seem as bad as it did a day or two ago.

~Who am I kidding? I'd give my left lobe to rot in a cell!~

The Ferengi's isolation was not unnoticed by the Darchak's new captain. "Little man, fearing for your last day? And what are you drinking, eh?"

Taev only frowned as the bottle was snatched from his grasp.

"Sluggo-cola – the Most Popular Soda-Beverage in the Universe ™.

Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"No" L'Teer sneered, and swigged half the bottle before her morose subordinate. Finishing the draught, a bewildered, glazed look appeared on the female warrior's face. Brow creased, the looked down at the Ferengi who was noisily opening another bottle. "What did you call this again, little man?"

"Sluggo-cola, the Mo…"

"A WARRIOR'S DRINK!" T'Leer screeched, raising the empty bottle above her. The expression didn't go unnoticed, and a number of senior bridge officers now clustered around the Captain. Despite his protests, Taev's remaining Sluggo-cola was quickly taken and distributed to an enthusiastic crowd.

"You've never tried it before?" the Ferengi asked in disbelief.

"Never!" T'Leer grinned. "The tartness! The bitter aftertaste!

Truly befitting a warrior! You have more, First Officer?"

Taev ignored the promotion, a predatory grin of his own slowly erased the frown from his face. ~Never heard of it before! There are… billions of Klingons who've never tried it! They wouldn't buy from a Daimon, but from a blooded warrior who's taken one of their own in a duel? The market potential's staggering!~

"Of course I can get more! I'm the First Officer of the Darchak! Not some slig-brained accountant from Ferengenar!"

The roar from his future customers deafened all on the bridge, and Taev sauntered to the communications port to have his personal stash, now promotional samples, beamed over from the Galaxy.

Next: Taev IS a slig-brained accountant from Ferengenar!

~Closed Doors and Nuclear Fire~

Lt. Thyago Leandro
Domenico Carneiro
Juna
Maiek

"You haven't seen this place yet?" Thyago asked as he and Juna entered the ancient nuclear missile silo that was hidden beneath the Romulan capital city.

"No," she said, following behind the human as he hopped forward in great leaps on his mop stick crutches. The silo was huge. It was incredibly hard to believe it lay hidden beneath the city's central park for the past several hundred years without ever being detected. The two now resistance fighters (although only Thyago had seer any fighting) were walking along a open grating catwalk suspended a couple dozen meters in the air. Another several dozen meters above them sat several hundred tons of sod and flora. The central catwalk led between six individual silos to a central control room, with six more or the other side, totaling twelve silos in all.

Their discovery was pure accident. Thyago had literally stumbled upon them during the only skirmish he had been in during his time on Romulus. He and the Romulan Reunificationst Maiek were being escorted across the park by a few marines, including Pete Shaw and Victor Krieghoff. The park provided the quickest route from their set of tunnels to another disconnected set full of refugees that were in temporary need of he and Maiek's engineering experience.

Predictably, they were attacked by a group of Hydran soldiers on route. Someone had shoved both engineers to the ground, Thyago wasn't sure, but he thought it might have been Pete Shaw. In retrospect, Thyago thought he should have been freaking out at the time, or at least, he should have had a post-incident freak out session, but that never occured. If anything, he was confused, since the attack and the marine's reactions were so fast, there wasn't enough time for him to even realize what was going on. One moment he was in the middle of a lame joke, and in the next, he was on the ground behind a large decorative boulder with hissing laser fire darting over head. Then his boulder shield had exploded and he had to crawl back into a cluster of shrubbery.

It was there that he tripped over a hidden air vent grating that led down into the ancient nuclear missile silo, or rather, into the silo door mechanism access tubes. He and the rest of his party retreated down there, since rocks and thin trees did not provide much protection from ambushing Hydrans. They were followed, of course, but the change of environment worked in their favor, and like the Spartans at Thermopalae, took out the Hydrans one by one as they climbed down into the tunnel. A quick battle, over no more than ten minutes after it had began, and only Maiek had suffered an injury, a singed bicep. But, what treasures did they gain!

To an underground resistance movement in need of man and fire power to overcome thier occupying enemy, twelve intercontinental fusion missles was quite a find! At least, theoretically. The Romulans weren't too keen on using the missiles on their own terrain. Plus, only seven of the missiles were still launch capable. Still, nukes were nukes, and appropriate targets were eventually found. Juna had the list.

"I can't believe you people let your kids play on top of a nuclear stockpile," Thyago said as they walked.

"Do not judge us," she said. "You're people, too, once amassed large stock piles of nuclear weapons. How do you know there isn't a secret silo beneath the Washington Monument in America."

"Humans aren't as good at keeping secrets," Thyago smiled, "You guys are so good, you forgot they even existed."

Juna took that as a compliment and smiled in acknowledgement, though Thyago hadn't really meant it to be one. "Although, you're not very good at keeping our escapades the other night a secret."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, tensing up.

Thyago rolled his eyes, turning to face her outside the silo control room door. "Oh please. I've never seen so much sexual tension after having sex in my life."

"It left much to be desired," she sneered, narrowing her eyes.

He shrugged, unphased by the insult to his perfermance. "I know. If you ever want a chance to redeem yourself, all you have to do is ask."

"Right. Well, I'll keep that in mind," she said sarcastically, "Now please, can we get to work."

Thyago smiled, and turned to the control room door. It was more of a hatch, with a large seal valve, a wheel nearly a foot in diameter. He anchored himself between his mops, took the wheel and spun it until the internal lock shifted open and then pulled the door back.

Maiek and another Romulan, whose name Thyago could not remember, were inside, hovering over the centuries old computers. There were several monitors set up around the room and a large several person control station. Twelve were black and white video feeds from the individual silos. Only four still worked, so they had setup an additional sensor system displayed on a thirtheenth monitor that flashed between silos every two or three seconds. There was another large monitor, made of six old green screen vacuum tube monitors, that displayed a global map of Romulus. The control station held an input keyboard, whose letters had rubbed off, and several guages and warning lights monitoring the status of the missiles.

Maiek turned when Thyago and Juna entered, he asked, "Do you have the coordinates?"

"Yes," she said. "How many missiles are available, again? Seven?"

"Ten," Thyago said proudly.

"Ten? I thought there were only seven?"

"There were," the Brazilian smiled. "Now there are ten. I have a way with rockets. They are like puddy in my capable, masculine, confidently heterosexual hands," he said, and Maiek nodded silently in agreement to Thyago's mechanical abilities, if not to the rest of his self stroking.

Juna nodded as well, smiling. "Good job. That will help considerably. Here is a prioritized list of possible target configurations," she said, passing a small PADD to Maiek, "Hopefully, there is one configuration where all of the top ten satellites can be targeted."

She was referring to the satellite network the Hydrans had set up several days ago. This network of satellites worked together to generate a planetwide sheild of some sort that prevented extraplanetary communications, essentially sealing Romulus off from the rest of the universe. It also seemed to act as a physical barrier, either by generating a force shield, or because of on-satellite weapons systems that automatically targeted physical objects in proximity. If they were ever going to be saved by reinforcements, the shield would have to come down. But with a visible density of twenty five satellites per steradian, a total of over three hundred satellites, ten nuclear missiles wasn't going to cut it.

But, it would create a hole.

And a well placed hole could bring down the dam.

"We can target anything in the sky," Maiek said. "The trick is to hit the nearest ones so there's little to no warning for the Hydrans." He sat down at the console and began to input target coordinates into the silo computer. As he did so, little x'es appeared on the green screen map, accompanied by Romulan numerals indicating their three-dimensional position, and the computer calculated missile trajectories, and displayed them with dotted lines. Eventually several parallel arcs appeared on the screen, and since they were aerial targets, the computer automatically displayed current weather conditions and several shaded ovals. From which network it had drawn the meteorological information, Thyago and the Romulans did not know. He and Maiek were equally surprised the computer was capable of such a feat.

"What are those circles?" Juna asked.

"I think their estimated areas affected by radiation fallout," Maiek said. "It looks like current trade winds will blow it all out over the ocean."

"Is that bad?" the third Romulan asked. It was the first he had spoken since Juna had arrived.

"Yes and no."

"Radioactive fallout is always bad, but the ocean currents will spread it pretty evenly over the globe, so the final concentrations will be negligable. But, I wouldn't actively use resources from this area of the ocean for a couple months," Thyago explained.

"Then you have a go. Arm the missiles and be ready to launch them whenever your fleet arrives," Juna said.

"And when will that be?" Thyago asked, but Juna shrugged, unknowning. None of them could be sure anyone would come for them at all.

She turned to leave the three men and was almost out the door when the radio unit on her belt rang out. They all turned, startled by the alarm, waiting for her to answer. "Yes," she responded into the device, just as curious as the rest.

There was a lot of background commotion in the response, and at first, seemed like the base camp was under attack. But, the spoken words were calmer than that situation would allow. "Visual sensors just picked up a large number of new objects in orbit. Is Kerec with you?"

"What? No, he's not. Are they Hydran?" she asked excitedly.

"We can't tell yet. We can't get images yet, but were getting reflectivity patterns that match models for Romulan, Federation, Klingon and Reman. But that doesn't make sense," the man on the other side of the radio said.

"Why would the Klingons be here?" Maiek asked and looked around the room for someone to answer. Thyago made a face, why was he asking him?

"They wouldn't," Juna said with absolute certainty. It was clear she had thought the fleet had arrived, but all the bizarre readings immediately filled her with doubt. She lifted the radio again, "Kerec is on a mission. He might be out of range for your radios. I want images. If you see Romulan or Federation reinforcements, contact me and initiate Throw Off protocols, as per Kerec's orders."

"We just got images!" the radio replied. "Juna, we just got confirmation. Throw Off is a go!"

Her eyes shot wide. Everyone's did. She looked back, ready to repeat the order, but Maiek had already jumped out of his chair and run to the far end of the console. The third Romulan moved to the other side. Like on Earth, old Romulan nuclear missiles required a two person turn-key activation sequence. The keys had long since been lost to time, but the missiles had been scarily easy to hotwire. However, they still required a simultaneous two person activation.

"Throw Off is a go," Juna said, and Maiek and the third Romulan flicked their respective switches. An automated voice broke through the cobwebs in the ancient loud speakers, counting down in Romulan.

"This is it," Thyago said. On the missile monitors, steam and gas began to billow out from the bottom of the rockets as they warmed up to ignition. Large cracks of light split down the missiles and widened as the doors above them opened, dirt and grass falling down into the subterrainian launch chamber from the park above.

"They'll launch in about five minutes," Maiek said. "All we have to do is wait and--"

But, he was interrupted by a beeping from the console. A warning light was flashing red. "The silo doors on missile three aren't opening."

"I thought you said you checked the doors," Thyago said.

"No, I thought you were going to check the doors," Maiek explained, his voice growing quicker as he realized their mistake.

Thyago was a bit slower, "No, I was fixing the rockets! You were supposed to check the doors! No one checked the doors?"

"Elements!" Juna shouted, "Its just one missile, just abort that launch."

"We can't," Thyago said.

"The hotwire was only one way, once its been activated, it can't be shut off without the original keys," Maiek said rapidly. "There is no abort, it has to launch or it'll explode."

"If that door doesn't open, this city will be gone," the third Romulan said.

"What?!" Juna cried, "What can we do?!"

"Mikey, stay and try and hotwire the hotwire, I'll take care of the door," Thyago shouted as he crutched out of the room.

"How?"

"I'll improvise," he called out, already halfway down the catwalk.

He ran down the catwalk, his crutches allowing him to take strides of several meters at a time, but he was still slower than he would have normally been, were his legs healed. He reached the outer casing for missile number three and looked up. The hatch leading to the door machinery was at least fifty feet above him, a tiny ladder attached to the wall his only way up. He threw down his crutches and grabbed the nearest rung, pulling himself up. It hurt to use his feet, or at least one of them. His broken leg hadn't yet healed enough to put considerable weight on it, so, he mostly had to pull himself up with his arms.

"Kerec to Carneiro," his own radio suddenly called out, the voice ringing out from his pants' waistband where the device was strapped. "The fleet's here! Are we ready to bring down the shield?"

Thyago chuckled as he climbed. Better late than never. He reached down and pressed the talk button. "Uh...yeah. Sure. Give me... ah... give me a little bit," he said.

"How long?"

"I'll let you know," he said. Well, if the city exploded in a wave nuclear plasma fire, he'd know, but Thyago wasn't about to mention that right now. He shut off his radio and continued to climb, counting as he went. He had less than four minutes.

At the top of the ladder, there was a hatch much like the one that led to the control room, except the door was on the ceiling. He paused, holding onto the ladder with one hand and the hatch valve with the other. With his one hand, he pushed on the wheel, but it wouldn't spin. It hadn't moved in six hundred years, it wasn't about to now. Carefully, he hooked his legs around the backside of the ladder, and moved his second hand to the hatch handle and began to push. "Caralho! Aberto, voce bosta!" he cursed as he twisted the handle.

Suddenly, the wheel moved, giving all at once. The door unlocked and the hatch fell open, catching Thyago off guard. He fell back, his body twisting down, and his back crashed against the ladder. He screamed as a sharp pain jolted up his leg; it felt as if his healing leg broke again under the strain of the torque. He curled up, pulling with his abdominals, until he grabbed the ladder again with his hands, and then climbed up into the door access tubes. The hatch led to a small bridge that led to a narrow catwalk that circled the inner wall of the silo chamber.

When he was inside, he realized he had no idea what the problem even was. He looked around, but the only displays were mechanical guages whose numerals were written in a language he couldn't read. Still, mechanics were mechanics, and doors of this size and age were most likely hydraulic. If the doors weren't opening, there was either no hydraulic pressure, or there was something significant in the way. He crawled around, scanning each of the gauges to see if any of them looked like they were reading zero.

"What's the problem," Juna suddenly said, her head poking up from the hatch door.

"O sim!" he sighed. Someone who could read. "I need your help. Look around and see if any of these guages are marked for pressure or hydraulics, or if any of them read zero."

She looked for a moment. "I don't see anything like that, none of these read zero. What else should I be looking for."

"Poxa!" he cursed. Then, in mock futility, "How about 'open.'"

"This says 'lock,'" she said, pointing to writing painted on the deck plating. Beyond the thin catwalk was an open space between the inner and outer silo chamber walls. Below it was a large steel wheel connected to a pipe that ran underneath the catwalk.

Thyago quickly crawled over and examined the wheel. He lied down on the catwalk and peered over the side, following the pipe with his eyes and watching for what it connected to. He tried not to notice the hundred meter drop between the silo walls to the bottom. He tried not to think that if the rocket ignited and launched up into the silo doors, its warhead would go off and they would all be dead. They probably had little more than one minute left.

"This is it," he said. "Give me a hand."

He began to push down on his side. Juna lied next to him and began to pull up on the other, doubling the torque. Like the access hatch, this ancient valve too refused to turn. "It won't budge," she said.

"Pull harder!" he shouted. Suddenly, the floor level hatch below exploded open, blown out from the pre-exaust pressure in the silo. Juna screamed and retreated from the edge of the catwalk, startled. The silo was shaking, now, and Thyago used the vibrations to slide himself forward, giving himself more leverage to push on the wheel. "Juna! Help me!"

She leaned forward and returned her hands to the locking valve, and pulled. Again, like before, the valve suddenly gave and spun, and like before, Thyago was caught off guard. So much of his weight was hanging over the edge, pushing down on the wheel, that when it gave, he fell off the side.

"Thyago!" Juna cried as she saw the human flip off the side of the catwalk. She looked down to find him hanging from the wheel, continuing to turn it by walking hand over hand along its rim, like a child on monkey bars. He was completely uncaring about his precarious position.

The valve was indeed the problem. Once it was unlocked, the doors inside the silo began to open, their movement signaled by loud rumbling. "The doors are opening," Maiek called through Juna's radio. "Thirty seconds to launch."

Thyago looked up to Juna. "Little help," he said, holding out his hand as he hung from the valve wheel.

She reached down and grabbed his arm. "The tables are turned, now," she said.

His eyes widened. "Don't drop me. I know you're still angry about the whole 'being thrown off a building' thing, but, don't drop me!"

She smiled smugly and pulled up, helping him climb back up onto the catwalk. "I'm not going to drop you."

"I know," he said, hooking his good leg up onto the grating. "You're in love with me."

"Elements! I'm going to push you over," she shouted in annoyed disgust.

"Maybe later," he smiled. "We have to get out of here. The lower hatch blew out, when the rocket goes up, the exaust is going to flood into this middle chamber. We have, like, ten seconds." He climbed around the thin catwalk to the small bridge, Juna was right behind him. He let her go first, and when it was his turn, he heard the engine ignite. A thunderous roar filled the chamber, an in another moment, burning fire would follow.

As his head sunk below the frame of the hatch, he saw the fire flash up before his eyes in the space between the walls. It rushed up, following the currents of oxygen until was deflected by the ceiling and curled down and out to fill the rest of the silo door access space. Thyago slammed the door shut and spun the handle so it would lock, and he could hear the deafening rush of air beat at the gate of its prison.

"Well, that was close," he said, looking foolishly confident down at Juna, whose eyes were wide with shock and anger, much like they were the night of the Hydran attack.

She continued to stare in disbelief until she finally spoke. "I hate you so much."

He laughed, "Come on. Let's go see if we brought down the shield."

OOC: Takes place concurrently with "Blitzkrieg."

"Family"

Lieutenant Nathan Everett
Rogue Squadron XO, USS Miranda

Captain Charlie Everett
Commanding Officer, USS Regulus

Commander Susan Everett
Chief Medical Officer, USS Regulus

===

As the Miranda warped toward Romulus at what most would consider a terrifyingly high rate of speed, Nathan Everett sat in the cockpit of his fighter, trying to think about anything but the battle to come.

Normally the thought of plunging headfirst into a massive dogfight with hundreds of starships and thousands of starfighters wouldn't bother him, but this time, things were different.

Nathan wasn't worried about himself. He was pretty damn confident that he'd be okay (in his line of work, you needed that kind of attitude), but the Hydrans and T'Kith'Kin wouldn't be focusing on him, they'd be focusing on the massive allied fleet that would be trying to pound their own fleet into stardust. One ship in that fleet would be the Sovereign-class USS Regulus, and among its crew were Captain Charlie Everett and his wife, Doctor Susan Everett--Nathan's parents.

He tried not to think about the possibility of their being killed. He wasn't sure what he would do if they didn't make it through this battle. To Nathan, it seemed like his parents would always be around, and just thinking about them not terrified him. The fact that he hadn't seen either of them in person in four years, just after he'd graduated from Starfleet Academy, only made it worse. He wished he'd had time to beam over to the Regulus before the fleet left the Phoenicius System, but Nathan had returned from a mission elsewhere just barely in time for this battle.

Cowboy took a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to steady his heartbeat and calm his nerves. His reasons for not wanting his parents anywhere near this battle were twofold: not only did he fear for their safety, but their being there was making him lose his focus, and a fighter pilot was as good as dead if he had to concentrate on more than just the battle surrounding him.

He shook his head to try to clear it, and glanced over to his right at Kalin zh'Annuria, his wingman. She looked at him from the cockpit of her fighter and gave him a thumbs-up, and Nathan returned the gesture.

He looked away, his eyes sweeping across the launch bay and taking in all the other Rogues ready to take the fight back to the enemy. His gaze settled on Rena Starburst's Valkyrie halfway across the launch bay, and he grinned to himself as he turned his attention to his checklist.

***

Charlie Everett, commanding officer of the USS Regulus, sat down at his desk in his ready room, turning to face the small viewscreen in front of him. The fleet had left the Phoenicius System a few minutes ago, but Charlie knew there wasn't much time before they arrived at ch'Rihan, so this had to be quick. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. He looked very much like his son Nathan, though he was an inch or two shorter, with a leaner frame, brown eyes rather than blue, and a darker shade of hair that was now peppered with silver.

A few moments later, the screen came alive, revealing his wife sitting in her office down in sickbay. He looked down at the screen and smiled at her. "Hey, darlin'."

"Charlie," Susan Everett greeted warmly, returning her husband's smile. "What's the matter? Are you nervous?"

Charlie's smile widened into a grin. "'Course not, Ah just wanted to take one more look at the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, just in case Ah never git to see her again."

Susan rolled her eyes, though good-naturedly. "Please. You probably say that to every pretty girl you meet," she said.

"Not since Ah married you," Charlie answered.

"And I thought wisdom was a lost quality among Everett men," his wife teased. Her smile faded, and her eyes dropped for a second. "Nathan's going to be out there, you know. His squadron is with the Miranda."

"Ah know," Charlie replied. "Ah've been tryin' not to think about it."

He let out a quiet breath. "Nathan's a good pilot. He'll be alright."

Susan nodded, not entirely convinced, but before either of them could say anything else, Charlie's communicator chirped. "Bridge to Captain Everett," came the voice of Commander Ra-Teruveii, his XO.

"Go ahead," Charlie responded, offering his wife an apologetic glance.

"Sir, the fleet's preparing to drop out of warp."

"Understood. Ah'll be right out." Charlie looked at his wife again and gave her a reassuring smile. "Time to go to work."

She nodded and forced herself to smile, still consumed with thoughts of their son. "Good luck, Captain. I love you."

"Ah love you too, darlin'," Charlie said, standing up as the screen went black. He moved to leave his ready room and paused at the door, taking a second to compose himself before he entered the bridge, striding briskly to the command chair and sitting down.

Commander Ra-Teruveii eyed his captain in concern, wondering what was on his mind, and Charlie decided to enlighten him. "Mah son's gonna be out there somewhere," he explained.

"Oh," Ra-Teruveii said quietly, sitting back in his chair. The Efrosian nodded slowly. "I'm sure he'll be fine...."

"He damn well better be," Charlie declared as the Regulus dropped out of warp. "Or his mother'll kill me."

***Romulus***

Branwen was very glad they were finally out of the caves and in a much better environment. Here at was the least possible to run a hospital effectively. Of course they were still short of doctors and nurses. At least there was a little bit more medication and equipment. And she was able to keep up to speed better with what was going on. The resistance headquarters was just next-door. The young marine still hoping the Colonel would relieve her of this duty, so she could be more active again and fight.

A new group of casualties arrived at the entrance to the hospital. An bedraggled woman with emerald skin was helping a dazed Starfleet officer, his arm in a makeshift sling.

"Help please?" she asked, her voice shaky with worry.

Noticing the colour of the woman's skin Branwen swallowed. But work came first, and these people needed help. Besides she could not judge a race for the actions of one. So the Marine rushed over and helped support the officer. “What happened?” She asked the woman. “Don't worry, I will get you both some help.”

"My friend and I....we crashed in an escape pod from the Agamemnon. We've been trying to find our way to safety since then."

The woman lowere the dazed man to the ground.

"He was injured in a fall. He hit his head. I was able to boost his healing, but his concussion is severe....."

“Okay let's get him to a doctor first, then I will check you out, ma'am. You have been through a traumatic experience.” She waved an orderly over with a gurney. “Trauma 2, please, emergency tag orange.”She gave the instruction. Then took the woman to her own little office.

“now what can I get you to drink, ma'am.” Bran said kindly.

"Water, please...." she said gratefully.

Branwen gave her a glass that was half full and pulled out a scanner.

The older woman drank down the first glass greedily before asking for more.

"It has been three days since our supplies ran out. Dodging enemy patrols, roving bands of scavengers....it's not been a vacation."

“I will get you some more in a minute, ma'am. But you shouldn't drink too much at once or you will get cramp.” The scanner did show signs of dehydration, malnutrition and exhaustion. “Would you like to rest for a while?” There was a couch in the tiny office. In the hospital they could only treat more serious casualties, there were not enough beds.

The green woman sat down and tried to relax. She had to ask, but feared the worst.

"Any news of the fleet? My mate was aboard the Agamemnon, my daughter the Miranda......?"

“I don't know ma'am. I came here before the fighting started. I know the Miranda is a big ship. I don't know the Agamemnon. “Shall I help you to the couch so you can try to sleep for a bit. I can try to find out more about your family.” The link with the Miranda had not yet sunk in.

The weary eyes of the emerald woman showed her quiet anxiety.

"That would be kind, thank you. I must pray....I have had no chance to pray...."

“later ma'am. When you have rested okay?” Bran said gently leading her to the sofa. “And a light meal and some fluids.”

The woman quietly began to murmur in her native tongue even as Branwen led her to the couch. She was asleep before her head was down onto the armrest.

Branwen positioned the older woman more comfortably, and then covered her with a blanket. Then she made sure that was a little food and some water on the ground next to the couch. Then she went back to her work, making a mental note to check on her every few hours.

The second time Branwen checked on the older woman, she was awake and eating the food. When she saw the human doctor, she lifted the handful of rations upwards in thanks.

"In gratitude, I am." she said quietly. "How is my friend?"

"Is down to be fine, ma'am. We are keeping him in overnight because he has a concussion. For the rest it's just bruises, and malnutrition and dehydration just like you. He should be able to leave tomorrow and be back on light duties in a day or two."

"Excellent...he is a good human...." she sighed in relief.

Branwen smiled. "He seemed like a nice man, and he was very taken with you." Bran came closer. "I would like to check you again, ma'am. Is that all right?"

She shook her head, putting her rations back onto the plate.

"I have no objections. My name is Anasta, mate of Captain Roberto Montoya ."

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Montoya . I am Branwen London, I am a Starfleet marine and a counselor. Currently helping out in the hospital.” She held the scanner over the emerald woman. “I have already asked everybody to look out for survivors from your ship. And as soon as we have contact with the fleet again I will ask after him. We are doing what we can.”

"I know...." Anasta sighed. "These are bad times. The Great Mother must watch over her children...."

Anasta's readings were depressed by exhaustion, dehydration, and minor malnutrition. But otherwise she was in excellent health. When Bran checked, her pheromone abilities were unhindered by her current state.

"What ship are you from, if I may ask?"

‘The galaxy, ma'am.” Bran blushed. “You can drink a little more now if you like.”

"The Galaxy is a good ship, be proud of her....."

Anasta lifted her drink in salute before drinking.

"I take it that rescue is uncertain, at best, and the leaders of your forces have decided to fight back to buy time?"

“Yes ma'am. I am hoping for some action myself. I am really a marine.” She blushed deeply. “Would you like some more food as well?”

"If there is food to spare. Otherwise I shall wait until later. My most urgent need was rest and water, and you have kindly helped me."

"Do not be in a hurry for action. I fear you shall get all that you wish, and more. Without help coming from the Federation, we may be here a very long time."

“I know, ma'am.” Bran said. “But being here is so tough. I don't have the training to be of much help. And there is so much suffering and pain. So many children who are suffering.'

"You are doing what you can, child. Dying needlessly will not end the suffering of the children. Take heart, the Federation will not let your task end with you."

Bran edged closer towards Anasta. Somehow this woman felt so safe, like a mother. Soft and warm and familiar. “I am tired, and I cannot take much more pain from others. I hate looking at it without being able to help. I want to make a difference.”

Anasta reached up to take the marine's hand.

"You *are* making a difference. You've given aid and comfort to so many. The dark night may be long...but the dawn always comes."

Bran gasped at the touch. “Ma'am.” She whispered looking up into those beautiful eyes. “I…. are you going to hurt me?”

Taken aback by the human's reaction, she withdrew her hand as if burned.

"Hurt you? How?" she asked in bewilderment.

“I…. I am sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean it to sound disrespectfull. I like you, can I get you something else?” Blushing heavily Bran tried to talk herself out of her blunder. But she was confused. Absentmindedly she rubbed her wounded arm, the one she still hadn't let a doctor look at.

Eyebrows raised, Anasta reached out a hand and gently touched the favored arm.

"You are injured...."

"It's fine, it's nothing." Bran and felt at the same time uncomfortable and very happy when the older woman touched her.

Even with the moment of contact, Anasta sensed the beginnings of fever and the distinct unpleasantness of something unclean. She looked to the marine with a frown.

"You should see a healer, and soon...'

"Sure I will." Bran smiled. "But I am not the patient here. It's my job to look after you, ma'am. And you should still be resting. Now can I get you anything else before you get some more sleep?"

"No...thank you."

Anasta covered herself with the emergency blanket, her dark eyes watching the retreating marine with concern until at last sleep took her once more.

"Belly of the Beast" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulas', directly after "For All our Sons and Daughters")

The bioform walls glowed lightly from within, soft shades of green giving barely enough light, making the hallway have a very eerie feel. It was surreal to think that only moments before they had been standing in the heart of a Klingon vessel and now they stood within the belly of the beast. Well, more the belly of one of the Hydran cruisers that now surrounded ch'Rihan, but that was just semantics. They were here for a single reason; to save the Rihannsu people. And as wise men throughout the galaxy say,

accomplishing lofty goals can only be achieved by taking small steps. And this was one of those.

The male pulled a tattered glove, which he had been loaned, off his hand and pressed his naked palm against the wall. The supple material moved and flowed with his touch. Like a thick layer of moss or gel, he surmised; "It's squishy. Never seen anything like it. Almost as if it is alive or something." he said through the communications device embedded in the mask he wore. "And it's sticky!" he said as he tried to pull his hand away and a membrane of clear silky material slowly pulled away from the wall before the tension dragged it from his palm with a slurping sound.

Dhanishta cocked her head towards him, she wasn't a fan of the head gear, but without it she wouldn't be able to breathe in this environment, so she dealt. "It is a living being." she reminded him, "Well at least part of it as any rate."

Taking out her tricorder she began to scan the corridor (?) they were in. Jonas had a point, this 'ship' was creepy. It was just like a Terran story she had read as a child, when some wooden toy, that could walk and talk (!) and its 'father' got stuck in a belly of a whale. At least this is sort of how she imagined that would be, not that she often day dreamed about being stuck in the belly of a mammal!

She looked back up at him, anything to tear away her mind from over analyzing that analogy, "It doesn't look like we have been detected." she said slowly eying the end of the corridor suspiciously. "From what I can gather they haven't finished the repairs yet." she glanced up at him from the readouts, "You have to thank Kel for picking this target, if we had beamed to the other one we would have surly been detected."

Nodding in the direction that the old plans had said their destination was, he replaced the glove before setting his rifle against his shoulder. "You ready?"

Dhani looked in the direction he indicated. Swallowing hard she nodded, "As ready as I'll ever be." she replied feeling her body tense with uncertainty and quite frankly fear!

"Let's do this!" she said trying to force a steady smile.

The ship, termed 'Alpha Tango Two' by Qel, was, from the passive scans they had taken, a mid sized cruiser with a standard compliment of something in the order of three hundred Hydrans. That number would have been far greater if not for all the soldiers now deployed on the planet, but Steven wasn't prepared to take chances. He hadn't been about to board a Hydran warship with just one weapon, and he had made sure that anyone else coming, which in this case was Kala's twin sister Dhani, was properly armed for combat.

That the Hydrans had had two full days since the battle with the Federation-Rihannsu fleet to get their shields working and hadn't completed repairs, was going to be their downfall if the harebrained plan that Dhani had come up with worked as planned. It was a big 'if' and Steven was here to try and ensure it did. He momentarily thought about Michael, Kala and Keldan on the other ship, hoping they had met little resistance in their mission.

Dhani stole a moment to contemplate if the ship itself could sense their presence, feel the unbalance from the bipeds as it was normally tripods that scuttled down its halls with the squishy floors. "This is really unsettling!" Dhanishta mumbled under her breath.

For a while they proceeded down the corridor in what Jonas would probably describe as 'stealth mode'. Both of them crept softly, keeping alert for any sign of Hydran activity. Jonas took the lead; Dhani had to admit that he had a keen eye for the schematics of this ship. With all the drinking he had done the night before she wondered if he would be fully capable to remember the details of their mission. But so far he seemed completely capable, spinning round to check the rear in a fluid motion every so often; as if Dhani wasn't watching their backs!

"This looks like a door." Steven announced as he noticed a slight variation in the colouring of the biological wall a few feet ahead of them. "Are you ready to kill some Hydrans?"

Dhanishta couldn't fathom why her hands were shaking around the rifle that she clutched to her chest. It wasn't as if she hadn't been in a battle situation before. She had fought hand to hand with the Breen when they had boarded the Galaxy at Harvaras. She had fought without thinking, without analyzing the situation; she had shown no thought to her own safety; just jumped in and killed the lot of them. She had many memories of killing people without even raising a hand to them. So why now was she trembling with fear?

She looked into Jonas' eyes. His gaze was set like steal; his resolve firm. This was his own turf; it wasn't like this was the first covert mission he had ever gone on. He was a marine - trained and tested. And she was an engineer.

But she wasn't just an engineer, she was a warrior; just out of practice! Looking from Jonas to the door he indicated, she pushed her fear aside, made her peace with the gods, made a vow; if there was no coming back from this mission, at least she had tried. No, no that wasn't good enough; she mentally chastised herself shaking her head.

There is no coming back from this mission; it's all or nothing. Pushing the memory of everyone she loved away, from her family to Michael and all those in-between, she cast an eye back to Jonas, her face set, her eyes matched his. "Ready." she said accompanied with a crisp nod.

Standing on either side, Steven raised his hand up, showing three fingers. Taking a deep breath, he counted down, three.... two... one... and stepped up to what he assumed was the door to the bridge. The bioform wall stretched open and Steven fired at the first Hydran he saw, one that had been on the far side of the room. With concentrated bursts he started taking out the Hydrans as he saw fire from Dhani's rifle off to his side.

Once the door opened Dhani's eyes fixed on the targets. There was no hesitation as she pulled the trigger, the energy beam searing from her weapon. It was like a switched flicked in her head as she saw the first Hydran bite the deck. As is three legged body dropped she was already tracing her next target. Yet the weapon in her hand felt wrong, it was far to clean, its beams accurate, crisp and sharp. She moved slightly to the left, target in view she fired again, frowning as her eye stared down the scope it finally clicked; this was far too impersonal.

And then she stopped. Dhani ceased firing! Looking at her for a moment, Steven saw her running into the room, smacking a Hydran between it's three eyes with the butt of her rifle as she ran. "What the..." He said as his jaw dropped in shock.

"Dhani?" He called out, unsure of how someone who was nervous before they had entered could suddenly go off on such a rampage.

The adrenaline surged through her as she ducked a swing from the Hydran she was pounding. Her rifle became her bat'leth as she gripped it with two hands, swinging the butt into the Hydrans torso, growling as it made contact, she roared slightly and turned her head as another approached from her left. As the first doubled over from the blow, she thrust the point of her rifle into the Hydran that advanced on her, whilst raising her left foot to kick the former in the head. Both aliens went down as Jonas called out to her. Spinning round quickly to face him she tossed her rifle up in the air to flip it back into a firing position, snatching it from the air she aimed at Jonas and fired; taking out the Hydran that stood behind him.

Steven nearly made a mess of his pants when Dhani had levelled the rifle in his direction. Thankfully he hadn't. But he felt the beam whiz past his face to hit the Hydran behind him square on. He nodded his thanks as he heard the body hit the deck with a squelch, but couldn't see if it registered with the Engineer.

Raising his rifle, he fired at a Hydran hiding near a doorway, knocking it off its feet before it took its last breath of methane.

Scanning the room quickly Dhani shot another as he, possibly she, lurched forward towards what Dhani assumed to be a control panel, "No one gets out alive on my watch!" Dhani muttered darkly as she looked across the room at the last 'man' standing.

"Stop Dhani! Stop! We need him!" Steven shouted as he ran forward. She was headed for the last standing Hydran, the one who had been sitting in the throne in the middle of the room. "We need him." he said more quietly as he reached her. After what had happened on the T'Kengra with Qel, he knew she could have a go at him at any moment, so he was cautious in his approach.

Dhanishta was so focused on her intent, so consumed by the anger she felt towards them for decimating her fleet, and yes it was hers, as much as it was everyone else's. To stop, to pull herself back took so much energy, yet in her mind she continued forward. Her body came to a jerking stop yet something else continued. It protruded from her like a burst of light, its point so defined, so honed on its target. Like a torpedo it continued on its course, striking its intended with such force that it knocked the surprised Hydran, if Hydrans could indeed look surprised, right off its bio formed throne.

Slowly, strained almost forced in its actions Dhanishta looked back over her shoulder at Jonas, a single droplet of perspiration rolled down her forehead as her chest rose and fell from the exertion of the fight. Her nostrils flaring she stared at him for some time, her eyes following him as he came up along side her, she didn't utter a single word.

As he approached, he thought he saw the shade of Dhani's eyes darken just a smidge, but with two masks and the slight hazy look to the atmosphere around them, he couldn't be fully sure. She looked like a warrior, running around the wild plains of some great desolate planet, warmongering, and yet, she looked innocent at the same time, like she was just a simple engineer trying to save her friends from servitude. He smiled, hoping to break the tension that now filled the room.

Almost like a beast Dhani snorted out a breath, fogging up her mask. Her shoulders hunched and then relaxed as she did so.

Standing over the fallen Hydran, he sneered. "They don't look so tough now, do they?" he asked Dhani.

"In the Midst of Battle, and the Presence of Greatness"

LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

CIC, Deck 7, USS Miranda

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

Chris had always thought that one day he'd be standing amongst the giants of the Federation, just not so soon. Here he was, running his CIC with THE Admiral Murdock running the battle just a few yards away. The shock and awe of his presence had disappeared just as quickly as he had entered and got down to business when he arrived, a fact that Chris was quite thankful for.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of drills, planning meetings, and getting things in order before the battle they all knew was coming. They had all known that Murdock was going to be running the show from the CIC, so they had done the best they could to get it to 100%, but the simple fact was that you couldn't replace a pannel that wasn't there if you didn't have something to replace it with. The CIC entered the fight at 94% readiness, a small miracle in itself.

Now if it only worked as advertised in the large flagship role, there would probably a Catholic priest on hand to investigate at the end of the battle.

Once Shia had left to go become the queen of Romulus or something, it had left Chris in the precarious position of being the coordinating authority between the Admiral's staff and the CIC crew. Some of Murdock's staff were...less than receptive to working with a JG who essentially would be at their level during the fight. Personally Chris didn't care. It was his CIC, and they would play by HIS rules while they were there. Thankfully, the arrival of his father as one of Murdock's tactical experts had helped him stand his ground. He had personally developed a good working relationship with the Admiral...he was a good man, and while he didn't have a lot of time to deal with a young officer, he was smart enough to realize that Chris and his crew were the experts on the equipment and gave them what space they needed to do their job, fight the ship, and help him accomplish his: win the battle.

But right now, his relationship with the Admiral was the least of his worries.

The Miranda had just unloaded her first cannon shot and now the sensors were looking for targets to kill. Chris had a personal vendetta to fulfill. The last time they had met the Hydrans in battle, 4 of his crew didn't see it through to the end. Now, he wanted to erase the doubt in his mind that they had died in vain. Maybe that was why he really wanted to stay onboard, rather than take the CTO post on the Sao Paolo.

"Target, Hyrdan cruiser, 200 km, bearing 135, turning port to run!"

"Devonshire is taking fire from two T'Kith'Kin Warships, shields at 92%!"

"Sir, do we have permission to fire independent of the bridge?"

Chris was hearing all these conversations at once and processing the important stuff. His concern was the ship and coordination around it. He'd leave the war to the guys with more metal on their collars.

"Bridge, CIC, recommend position change, orient to bring main phaser battery on target one-one-echo. Target is coming to bear. Request weapons release to CIC controllers."

"CCCCICCCC, Bridge. Possssition change implemented. SSSStand by on weaponsss requessst." K'aa 's distinguishable voice left Chris waiting for the chance to unleash his own brand of hell on the enemy.

"Unpaid Overtime"

Lt. Katara Elarin, ACMO/Hazard Three
USS Miranda

Aboard Avalanche Assault Vessel Approaching Romulus

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

The scar above her left eye had come on nicely, a memento of the melee battle with the Hydran scout trooper. She came up to the cockpit of the ship to check on the status. The pilot was sat with one of the tactical personnel playing what appeared to be a game of top trumps.

They had obviously seen her coming because she caught the words…

"I see your Hydran scout, and I'll play my Cardassian ACMO…Oh…Hi Lieutenant, didn't see you there."

"Hmmm…is that a star passing us or the son of flying pig? I really can't tell." Replied Katara with a smile. She was quite pleased in her own way. They'd been forced to take a long and drawn out way home with minimal supplies and cramped conditions, but somehow this had formed a bond between them. The tactical officer put down his deck, undoubtedly containing other such fictional cards as the sanctified golf club and Boo the mighty space hamster, and turned towards her.

"So…how did you come up with that move then? I mean was it worth them destroying three quarters of our supplies?"

"Given they'd have destroyed all four quarters, the ship and us inside it I think it was a fair choice. You're right though, it was a calculated risk, it could've been a lot worse. I was just hoping that the Hydrans one defining characteristic would play to our hands."

"Oh, what's that?" The man asked.

"Arrogance. They see that we're there, they fire think they destroyed us because when they scan they find 'alien' debris. They don't look to hard and return to base a job well done, back home in time for Kannar and medals."

"Meanwhile," the man continued for her, "we vent warp gases and tuck our selves silently behind a heavily irradiated cruiser hull blocking our signature…they don't teach you that at the academy."

"They don't teach it at Starfleet medical either but it still worked…I wouldn't make a habit of it though. How's our ETA?" She said, turning toward the pilot.

"We've made pretty good time…considering. A little over two weeks, would have been quicker if the core hadn't gone on the fritz but that's what happens when you put it under stress. We should be coming out any minute now. It'll be good to get back to a nice hot warm bath, a glass of red wine and some soothing music, the lights down low…" The pilots voice drifted off into space. Katara thought most of the team felt this way…although maybe not as romantically as Ensign Rachel Kneller. Home, rest, sleep, relax…the ancients knew they deserved it.

Most of them had been recruited to the Hazards from tactical and security, some science and engineering too, mainly under duress and she couldn't see many signing up for a second trip.

Then the ship shook, the warp engines failing and the vessel falling out of warp and revealing the tableau in front of them. A fleet of Breen and Hydran ships sat motionless while Starfleet vessels began fighting with T'kith'Kin Hive ships. Meanwhile, a further fleet of Starfleet, Romulan and what appeared to be a few Klingon vessels swooped from every angle conceivable.

"What the hell happened?" Katara said spinning back round to find one of the engineers already busying themselves with one of the many conduits and couplings in the ship.

"Some kind of pulse weapon knocked out our systems, if you give me a couple of minutes we should be up and running again…"

"If…should? It'll have to do. Katara surveyed what she could from the mark-one view screen (the window) with her mark-one scanners (her eyes). She saw the shielding system coating the planet, the fleets of allies and enemies new and old dancing between each other and the shape of what must be the fabled 'starbeast' looming in the distance.

"Looks like we missed the fire works." Said the tactical as sprang out of his seat and made his way towards the aft.

Katara turned to the pilot. "Looks like we're just in time for them.

When we get power hail the Mirnada and let them know we're headed for that."

"What?" The pilot tried to follow the line of the mark-one target designator (Katara's finger) but there was a lot moving around.

"The satalite comms base, we take out their eyes and ears."

Turning she sprinted into the ready area in the aft. "Okay everyone, get suited up. I know you all want to get home but we're going to have to do a little overtime to accomplish that goal." She paused aware that most people were already strapping their weapons and suits on before she got into the room. A few looked at her slightly confused.

She rallied herself well. "Carry on. Prepare yourselves for boarding action!"

"Belly of the Beast" Part Two

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus', directly after "Belly of the Beast" Part One)

For a moment Dhani was silent. Her body had been tense, yet now she was slowly unwinding. Shuffling forward she crouched down next to the body of the fallen Hydran and gently nudged him. "Can I cut out it's beak and keep it as a trophy?" she asked Jonas in a child like voice as she looked up at him with doe eyes. A menacing smile crossed her lips, uncommon for the petite engineer.

He smiled at her childlike reply, before turning to the Hydran. "Do you speak Standard?"

The Hydran lay there, not speaking, it's third eye stalk swiveling from Dhani to Steven and back again.

"I said, do you speak Standard?" He brandished his weapon near it's face.

Still nothing.

Steven looked up at Dhani. "I think it does speak Standard, so if he doesn't respond this time, I'm going to blow one of his arms off." He wasn't really going to do that. Steven wasn't a monster, and the Hydran WAS a prisoner of war. But he didn't know that Steven wasn't going to.

Dhani looked at Jonas and shrugged, "If you do that, then I am taking it's beak *and* one of it's eye stalks as a trophy. I can get them mounted and put them on my desk."

"Do you speak..."

"Yes, I do speak your vile language." It replied, the anger it held towards the two of them evident in it's voice.

Steven chuckled. "I thought so." He turned to Dhani. "Do you want to do the honors?"

Dhani smiled that menacing smile once more, which was so out of place across her usually gentle features. Kneeling heavily on the Hydrans chest; pinning at least two of its three arms as she did so, she slowly pulled out a daktarg from its sheath, secluded in her left boot. The blade seemed to hum as it was withdrawn, shimmering in the soft lighting Dhani held it up, almost in awe of it, bringing it up to her face, almost smelling it, before turning her menacing smile and the blade on the squirming Hydran.

"Now," Dhani began slowly, "there's a game I like to play. It's quite simple, even for a three eyed, bug faced critter like you." she leaned in closer, pressing the point of the dagger against the Hydrans body, "I ask the questions and you give me the answers."

She couldn't register the look on the Hydrans face, the sound it made with its beak could have been fear, or a mocking laugh.

Assuming it was the latter she leaned in closer, the point penetrating its tough skin. Removing her mask she moved forward, feeling the knife sink into him, the sound as it made its way through whatever this species had for an epidermis was clear as the day was bright. "Understood?" she questioned, making sure that the creature could feel her moist breath as the words oozed out of her.

The Hydran nodded as best it could, with the knife digging in.

Steven watched with fascination. The engineer was challenging his perception of her every few moments. From timid engineer, to aggressive warrior and now a merciless torturer. At least she wasn't trying to torture him. Steven kept flipping his attention between the door and Dhani and her new 'buddy'. It was bad enough that they were on a Hydran ship by themselves, with no backup. But the thought that the Hydrans could burst in at any moment sent chills down his spine.

Replacing her mask Dhanishta shifted her weight on the beast. For a moment she was silent as she studied the 'face' of the thing before her. Its beak was in three separate parts, it had scales across its body for skin. Dhanishta had always thought of feathers when it came to beaks and reptiles when it came to scales. That this creature had both made her wonder where from the depths of hell it was spawned from.

"You're going to tell me where weapons control is located." Dhani said slowly, emphasizing her words so there could be no misunderstanding. There was no hesitation in her mind or body as she held the knife steady, which had already penetrated the Hydran. She seemed calm in her new role, almost serene, as if it had been a dormant trait of her personality. So strange how she easily slipped into the skin of a torturer, or was it the other way around; the torturer slipping into her?

"It is no use to you. Damaged in the battle." The large three eyed monster said.

Dhanishta simply blinked as she twisted the knife, pushing it just a smidge harder.

"Very well. It is that one over there." It tried to point at a console over to the side, but was pinned down by Dhani.

Cocking her head to one side Dhanishta smiled under her mask, "Very good." she praised him in a condescending manor, "that wasn't so hard now was it?"

The Hydran thought about making some snide comment about the futility of their actions, but it's fear of infuriating the woman gave it pause.

Steven walked over to the console and took a look. The thing was as alien as he had ever seen and he doubted he'd ever be able to decipher the text that was visible. Turning back to Dhani, he spoke, "Hey, get him to... Dhani, what are you doing?"

A resonating crack filled the air.

Dhani turned to Jonas a perplexed expression across her face, standing up she brushed her hands down on her trousers. "We don't need him any more." she said matter-of-factly.

Steven shook his head, frowning. There was nothing he could do about her actions now. He just hoped she spoke or at least could read Hydran.

She watched the expression on his face for a moment, glancing back down at the body of the Hydran, "I've done a lot worse." she admitted defiantly. It was a strange sensation that rippled through her next. So many nights she had laid awake, crying over memories of torture and murder. Yet now, here, as she stood looking at another death by her own hands, she felt justified and somehow in that moment every murder she had ever committed felt justified. Every face that haunted her waking moments, every scream that rattled through her head as fierce as the moment fear provoked it from its unnamed victim, every droplet of blood that stained her hands…. Each one of them deserved that fate. She wasn't sorry, she didn't feel guilt, this death, like all the rest would never be noticed, he would never be missed and she wouldn't waste another moment thinking about him.

Steven motioned for her to join him.

Crossing the room towards the console, the now deceased Hydran, had indicated, Dhani paused as she came to stand before it. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You may have a point." she admitted quietly pointing to the display panel. "How's your Hydran?"

"Monologue"

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

(Day 19 - Occurs just after Michal's "Snapped" and "A Kept Woman")

****

The Streets
ch'Rihan

****

God I hate War!

Have I truly forgotten how utterly pointless war is, with my lack of combat for these past few years? The heartache, anguish, death and destruction. These byproducts of the conflict of races, so prominently found in the chaos that permeates war, so violent and destructive.

To see the handiwork of war first hand as I traipse over the rubble that used to be a building, I have to question why we mortal men need to fight, to bring bloodshed to our brothers and sisters, wreaking such havoc throughout the galaxy with no thought to the consequences our actions afford.

Someone once said that 'War Is Inevitable' and as I contemplate that statement, I find it to be most accurate. With man as he is, in his many guises throughout the known and unexplored galaxy, war is indeed inevitable. It is our very nature to wage war against one another. A trait that we have long sought to be rid of with no success. We are bound by our war mongering ways, caught up with protecting the lives of our friends and loved ones by striking first lest be be struck.

It is this very concept that I struggle with these hallowed days. I am a marine, a warrior and that is what I am at my core. Nothing can change that, and I know even if I was to leave Starfleet or take up another profession within this sacred institution, that I will always be a Marine, and a warrior, at heart. I can not hide from that inevitability.

My thoughts constantly turn towards my lost love. Would I have stayed in the service had she not lost her life? If she and I had had children, would that have made a difference? As much as I say that I would have, I know deep down that that was an unlikely proposition. I will always be a fighter, always be a marine.

And now that Faylin and I have hooked up, that thought frightens me no end.

I don't always want to be a fighter. I want to be a lover, companion, husband and father. I want to know what it is like to grow old with someone, to not be cut down in my youth, having wasted the better years of my life, fighting and killing. Will I be able to give it up? Will I be able to live a normal life, with the woman I love? I honestly do not know. What I do know is that I don't want to die on some distant world, leaving her a widow.

I must not lose clarity of my current situation. Being in the city, overrun with Hydrans, fighting, struggling to save our much feared former enemy, the Rihannsu Star Empire, I am filled with dread. That the Galaxy and the Federation task force have withdrawn, perhaps never to return, sends chills down my spine. There is no place I could go from here. Nowhere safe from the Hydrans. This is what I should be focusing my thoughts on; to staying alive; to helping the Romulans; to help free them from the Hydran tyranny that has now enveloped them. Even if it costs me and those brave warriors that are here on ch'Rihan now. Nothing else should matter but the survival of the Rihan people and the continued fightback against the Hydran Supremacy.

In the past couple of weeks, having survived the attack on my life, the near death in the vacuum of space and narrowly surviving in a hand-to-hand fight with a huge Hydran, I have found the missing piece. The part of me that had been missing for so long. Faylin! We seem to have this chemistry, that I haven't seen with another female for so long. It seems like a lifetime since we had that one solitary date, when in reality it has been a matter of weeks. And even after we have found each other during this great defense of ch'Rihan, I fear for her safety.

I know not if I will see the Galaxy again, nor if I will get a chance to pay 8-ball and Faylin back for what they did, but I can hope that someday I will get that chance. Faylin... I find my thoughts wandering to her too often. The smell of her perfume, the touch of her silky smooth dark hair, her enchanting eyes, her sexy pouting smile. The peaceful look on her face as she sleeps. God, how I have missed her these past two days while out in the field scouting potential targets.

I hope the fleet arrives back soon, though I fear it will be too late for a great many of us.

Such is the universe we currently live in.

Such is War!

OOC: For mood music try "The Olympic Carrier" from Battlestar Galactica Season 1 OST.

The crew of the USS Eagle in.."Flight of the Phoenix"

Featuring:

Captain Leo Striker
Commanding Officer, USS Eagle

Commander Jason Argo
Chief of Flight Control, USS Eagle

Commander Jack Fisk
Executive Officer, USS Eagle

Commander Jackson "Nightmare" Hunter
CAG, USS Eagle

Major John J. McCandless
131ST Marine Special Forces CO, USS Eagle

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

Location: Turbolift enroute to main bridge, USS Eagle

Leo Striker took in a deep breath and counted to five before realising it as he prepared to take his new command into battle for the first time against a foe that a previous ship known as "Eagle" had meet once during the great war centuries ago. The lift doors opened and two Hazard Team officers came to attention and nodded respectfully as a young andorian shouted "CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE!!!" as Leo stepped out of the lift and headed directly for his XO.

"Jack, give me the spectrum if you will please?" Leo asked the Mars born human as he stepped up to his CO.

"The Eagle is fully prepped and ready, sir. Commander Hunter and Major McCandless both report that their respective units are ready, also the ARC troopers are also ready and Second Lieutenant Ward from the Galaxy and his squad are in Raptor One and ready for full scale deployment. The ship is armed and ready sir."

Fisk informed his captain at which point Leo nodded as he stepped over to the helm station.

"Helm is ready sir, just tell me in which direction you need the big guns and I'll get tactical every shot that they need." said Commander Jason Argo, the ship's chief of flight control and like his captain and "Pliers" down in the hanger bay he was also a fellow former member of the USS Beowulf's senior staff but that didn't make any difference here because the Beowulf was currently joining a much larger battle group from what he knew.

A Ferengi at the communications station turned in her chair towards him, "Captain, sir the admiral is giving orders..putting them on speakers now." she said before doing just that.

=^=All ships, this is Admiral Murdock.=^= he began. =^=Disable those ships while they're defenseless. All fighters concentrate on disabling Hydran launch bays. Don't kill unless ye have to. All ships, weapons free. Fire at will.=^=

"You heard the man, tactical give me battle lighting and charge up the phaser cannon, Jase I want you to aim us at the biggest target that's of a carrier or destroyer analog status then give us a course that will enable tactical to shred it like a cat with tissue paper!!" Leo said before turning to his XO, "Jack, inform Commander Hunter that he is cleared for deployment and I want him to make sure that not one of those damned stingers get launched, you've seen the gun camera footage. Mister Chu'lak, I know you're job is currently the science department but I need you to keep those specailized sensors locked onto that starbeast, I want to know the moment it starts entering an attack phase!"

"On it, my captain!!" came the overjoyed voice of the Sybokist vulcan as his fingers quickly danced over the controls of his station as he started running every type of scan that he knew on the monster that hung over the enemy fleet.

"All right, Mister Argo...take us in!!" Leo shouted over the din of background noise.

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

In the space over ch'Rian, the Midway-class Heavy Cruiser in the USS Eagle sped towards the Hydran carrier analog Pride of Yventha with it's primary phaser and torpedo batteries striking it as the Eagle's Black Hawk SFFC group deployed took on their opposite number. The Pride was one of the older Hydran "Guardsman" series of Dreadnoughts and as the two ships went side by side, somehow the Hydrans technicans attempted to give the ship a chance to perform a full salvo broadside against the Eagle only to have at most five quantom torpedos slam into the non-existant shielding around the reactor core of the ship which caused it to cook off as the Eagle swooped past and sent a couple more salvos of torpedos into their enemy's ship as it slowly turned into atoms and stardust.

The Eagle then headed on for it's next target, hoping to prove it's self worth of it's legacy...

"Just be careful."

[On the planet - hospital]

Man'darr
Branwen

A few hours after the surgery Bran sat down next to his bed to check on how he was feeling.

Man'darr had drifted off to sleep on the cot, which seemed small due to the large capellan laying on it.  He had not slept well lately since being on Romulus, as he tossed and turned--the loss of his sister seemed so long ago, yet the pain was still there.  As was the uncertainty of them ever being rescued  "Cowards," Man'darr mumbled.  He felt his arm touch someone.

Openeing his eyes, he saw Branwen looking at him.  "How long have you been here?" he replied through his dry throat.

"A few hours, hon." She said getting him some water. She held his head up a little so he could drink. "How is the pain?"

Man'darr drank the water and sat up, dispite the pain that jolted through his injured side as he did so.  "It is still there," he said simply.  "But not as bad as before."  He then looked at the woman w ho was obviously concerned about him.  A part of him wanted to return back to the redellion, yet another part of him wanted to make sure Branwen would be alright.  He hated himself for being injured when the rebellion needed him most...yet at the moment in his current condition, he knew he would be more of a hinderance than help.  "How are you doing?"

"I am fine." She lied. "More worried about you. I was afraid you were more badly injured, love."

Man'darr chuckled lightly, managing not to grimace sue to the pain that the chuckling ca used at his injured side.  "I'm Capellan.  It takes more than a

grenade to take me out," he reassured her. Man'darr looked down, noticing that  his lower and mid body had been wrapped in a medical bandage with his Hazard

uniform top having been cut away.  The lower half of the uniform were still on him, despite having rips and blood stains on them.  "How is the rebellion do ing?"

"Hanging in there. I don't know much about it. I spend all my time in here looking after the wounded."  She put on a brave face about the horrors she was seeing all the time.

"I'd imagine that must be a demanding job.  However, you are a strong and brave person, Branwen--for a Marine," he joked.

She giggled. "Thank you. And you will be out of here in no time. But you will  have to promise me to be more careful from now on."

"I will try," Man'darr repl ied with a slight grin.

"Have you heard of any word on the fleet?  I am beginning to doubt that those  cowards will return."

"They are not cowards!" Bran had faith in them. "I am sure they are doing their best and they will be back when they can. We leave no one behind. You have to believe in that, love."

"Leave no one behind?  Then why are we on Romulus?  I don't recall forming a resistance group a nd staying on Romulus for nearly a month part of the original plan.  Many people have died in battles with Hydran Ground Forces, however, many of them did not have to.  I am beginning to have my doubts about Starfleet and the Federation, Branwen."  Man'darr didn't like saying it, but it was something he had come to face with.   They preach about never leaving anyone behind, and yet, when a battle gets tough, they don't hesitate to retreat like a terran dog with its tail between its legs stranding hundreds of their own on Romulus.

"You will see that they had a good reason.  You don't know how bad it is up there, hon.  They might have it worse than we do.  Don't be so quick to judge."  She smiled at him.  "Have faith."

"Worse than here?  How could it be worse?  They have replicators for food, showers, plenty of medical supplies.  We have either little or none of those....so I dou bt very much that they have it worse."  Man'darr sighed heavily and his eyes glanced at Branwen's arm.  He grabbed her arm and looked closer at the wound.  "Why have you not seen a doctor?  You lied to me a bout your well being."

"Ouch, Man'darr, don't!"  She called out.  "Remember, I am one of the medical staff around here.  I am taking care of it."

Man'darr instantly let go of Branwen's arm.  "I did not mean to hurt you.  I am sorry, Branwen.  But it does not look as if its being treated.  What good are you to your patients if you are not well?"

"I keep meaning to have it looked at.  But every time a doctor is free somebody comes up with something more urgent.  It will be fine, it's only a graze."

"It does not look fine."  Man'darr stood, emitting a low, rough grunt as he did so.  It felt good to be up and on his feet again, though his side still pul sed with pain.  "I just don't want anything to happen to you...you are all I have left in this life."

"I know, my love."  She kissed him gently.  "But I am more worried about you.  You need more rest, please."  Branwen tried to push him down.

"I do not want to lay down.  I have been off my feet long enough," Man'darr protested.  "I am fine."

"That's for the doctor to decide.  And he doesn't have time to see you yet.

Please, don't make our work more difficult."

"I do not need a doctor to tell me when I am alright.  If I can stand and walk around, then I am fine and am simply taking up space that someone else could use."

"You are so stubborn."  She said a little agitated.  "I don't need anything else to be worried about right now.  I don't want to lose you either."

Man'darr grinned at the stubborn part.  It brought back memories of Jill and how she used t o call him names whenever she got pissed at him.  St ubborn was only one among many names he had been called.  However, sadness quickly wiped away the grin as the emptiness of Jill's death once again took its hold.  "You will not lose me, Branwen.  I promise," he said as he took her into his arms.

"I hope not."  She held him tight while making sure not to injure him.  "I have finally found a man who wants me.  I'm not about to lose him."

"I simply want to move about and gain my strength back.  Use the space for someone who cannot move about."

"If you were truly honest with me, and you really feel good enough, you come off about for a little bit.  Don't go too far."  She admonished him.

"Yes, mother," he joked.  What Man'darr wanted most was fresh air.

"Not your mother." She kissed him on the mouth. "Just be careful your big ox."

New Awakening Part 2

Featuring:

Naranda Roswell

and

Valentina Dmitrieva Kyznetsov
Akso known as Ensign Eve

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

USS Galaxy

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

<=^=>Sickbay to Lieutenant Roswell<=^=>

Nara was scowling at the console. Time had rolled to the end of the shift into another. No one told her to go, so she stayed and planned to stay till the ship was working properly. Assuming she would need to go fix some system in Sickbay, she looked around to see who she would send as she answered. <=^=> Roswell here. <=^=>

<=^=>This is Nurse Halloway, ma'am. Ensign Eve was brought in not to long ago, we need you to come up in case there's been any cybernetic damage to her systems; we can't find anything physically wrong with her.<=^=>

Nara furrowed her brows a moment until she thought of a few reasons they would call her. She looked around not really wanting to leave things, but she understood Eve's cybernetics were so much of who she was, it was a bit important enough to leave for awhile. She let them know she would be back and picked the highest ranking person and told them to report to her in an hour on their progress. Then she left Main Engineering with a soot smudged face and a uniform that likely get her reprimanded for poor appearance. Crisis mode, she hoped they'd overlook that.

*****Minutes later*****

Nara entered sickbay and looked for Eve and whoever this Nurse Halloway was. She thought only then to wipe her hands off on her uniform.

Halloway was waiting for her and the woman quickly secured Nara, leading her over to the quarantine ward. Huddled behind the biobed and as much out of sight as possible, one could catch a glimpse of a very frightened person. "The field is as much for her protection as anyone else's. She'd been brought in just after the battle by Lt.

Bental, suffering from what appeared to be a nervous breakdown. She woke up earlier, and now we've more casualties. I'm almost afraid to let you in there with her, but no one can understand her and the computer isn't processing whatever language it is she's speaking."

Nara's face fell as she watched Eve. She wasn't in battle. She wasn't trying to act like she knew how to be chief. She saw a friend who she knew was vulnerable (yet could tear your heart out if she had the

mind) and now was in a heart-breaking position. "I can think of one way to reach her, but as a last resort." Nara kneeled to show she wasn't a threat. "Eve?"

She looked out from behind the strange bed upon hearing the voice.

There was a quality to it she hadn't heard in what felt like ages: it was the same way Mother spoke when she had been little. This woman was dirty and her clothing was torn and burnt in many places. Was she of a lower class than the others?

Nara looked at Eve worried, "I'd really like to help you. I'd prefer doing it without using telepathy, but we'll do that if we need to."

Nara tried not to cringe at the idea. Would the guardian be broken too and kill Nara outright? Nara continued, "We need to look at you. See what's broken and fix it."

Eve watched at the invisible wall shimmered, letting the dirty woman inside before shimmering again. She kept behind the strange bed, but didn't scoot away when the dirty woman approached.

Nara sat cross legged and watched Eve. "A clue that you remember would be a good start."

"??? - ??" She didn't know if the dirty woman could understand her, but if she could, oh joy! Someone she could talk to!

Nara raised an eyebrow, "Oookay. Looks like we have to do this differently." She lowered her walls a bit, tickling at the surface of Eve's consciousness. She decided to test the waters, see if she could sense Eve through empathy.

She felt a tickle somewhere in her head and looked at the dirty woman with curiosity.

Nara whispered as she mind-spoke the same words. "What is on your mind?"

She looked around, hearing the words from all around, yet still not understanding. "??? - ??" she asked again.

Nara pursed her lips and tried something she never done, but somehow understood thanks to Cerin's assimilation type of teaching. She let her conscious flow a bit more into Eve's. As she did this, she tried to catch a glimpse of Eve's state of mind. She kept her emotions straight, calm and soothing. That in itself was a test to Nara.

Expressing herself exclusively with emotion. Words didn't do anything.

She was scared, scared and alone. Everything was strange, different!

Nothing was as it should be! And yet she could tell that this dirty woman was not mean.... she wasn't a bad person, but did that make her a nice person? She couldn't tell yet.

Nara swallowed and trying not to let the nervousness bleed into her projections, delved a bit deeper into Eve, seeking for some way she could communicate. She also tried to keep soothing thoughts projected to Eve. Trying to project she was trying to help. That she could be trusted. She tried to project her familiarity with Eve. She smiled as she projected the memory of Eve in the bar as Nara taught her how to flirt.

She recoiled at the image. Unfamiliar thoughts washed into her sight, as though this woman was trying to show her things that could happen?

Had happened? She shook her head, no these hadn't happened!

Nara drew back the memory and frowned deciding to just stick to the emotions. Just trying to project her intention to help. To let Eve know she wanted to help her feel better.

The images faded away, the warm feelings returning once again. She didn't know what this dirty woman wanted, but above all she wanted to be able to talk to someone! It was lonely not being understood.

Mind-speaking and speaking softly at once, "I want to understand, Eve.

I don't know how."

With a startling suddenness, both women found themselves ...

elsewhere: a flat plain of ash wastes greeted them, littered with all forms of biomechanical gadgetry.

Nara clenched her jaw, trying to keep calm for Eve's sake, but couldn't help but mutter, "Great. This again." She looked about. "Ok, a pretty clear visual clue as to her state. Guardian?"

A figure appeared a few feet away from the pair, one Nara was familiar with, though the previous incarnation had been more pristine, to say the least. Her armor was pitted and broken in multiple locations, and the evidencing of the mechanical workings of her powered armor was evident in several of those. "Greetings, Naranda. Many changes have transpired since we met, not all of them sanguine and none of them understood. Eve's mind is not capable of assimilating a new language in her current state - please take care of her while this situation resolves itself." With that, the Guardian vanished, not leaving Nara an opportunity to respond. However, at the feet of the Guardian's position a component came to life, a diode on one side blinking back and forth between green and red.

"You've got to stop doing that." Nara glanced at Eve before moving to look at the blinking, "Resolves itself?" Nara wondered if that meant suicide for Eve.

The device was small, roughly 2 CM in diameter and barely 1 MM in thickness, the red and green coming from the diode on the side facing up. She looked at it with curiosity reaching down to pick it up.

She looked at the thing for a few moments, looking so much like a tiny coin, before handing it to Nara - there was no mistaking body language in certain cases, and such was the case this time. Once it was handed over, she began to poke through some of the detritus scattered about them.

Nara watched Eve a moment before looking at the diode closer, turning it in her hand. "At least tell me what this is, Guardian. A bomb?"

There was no answer from the Guardian, but mere seconds later the light of the diode faded into nothingness. Nara's face relaxed but she held her breath. A moment later, she turned to look for Eve.

She was still there at Nara's feet, poking through various things.

Moments later, a wind began to blow, picking ash and dust up into the air, obscuring the view gradually, until naught could be seen but the other woman. When the ash storm faded from view, they were back in the Galaxy's Quarantine ward.

New Awakening Part 3

Featuring:

Naranda Roswell

and

Valentina Dmitrieva Kyznetsov
Akso known as Ensign Eve

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

Moments later, a wind began to blow, picking ash and dust up into the air, obscuring the view gradually, until naught could be seen but the other woman. When the ash storm faded from view, they were back in the Galaxy's Quarantine ward.

Nara sat a moment, watching Eve and trying to comprehend. She whispered the words the Guardian said that stuck with her, "Resolves itself." She sighed as she looked at Eve, "Basically there's nothing we can do but wait for whatever it is to fix itself?"

"Chip?" She said, inquisitively, looking at the dirty woman.

Nara gave a small smile. Finally! "What chip?"

She pointed her finger in the air and made a small circle.

Nara tried to keep the smile as she sighed, "Where is this chip?"

She shrugged and then cocked her head to the side, pondering.

Reaching forward she smudged her fingers in the soot still there on Nara's face and began carefully wiping it on the side of the biobed, forming a sickle over a hammer. "??????? ????," she said. Nara frowned and turned to look at the nurse before looking at the bed, "Ok. I used to do this." Nara remembered drawing in the dirt to talk to Saia when she was on Trill. Still, it was odd. "Tools?"

She shook her head and then pointed at herself. "??????? ????," she said again.

Nara sighed, "Show me..." She once again gently knocked on Eve's consciousness.

The world did not fade, however a flag could be seen flying over her head - a red field, upon which was sewn a gold colored emblem similar to the soot drawing on the side of the biobed. She pointed to herself and repeated the word. "??????? ????."

"Uh." Nara understood a bit now, "Ok. A flag." After a moment, Nara spoke up to the computer, "Computer, identify a flag. Red field with gold hammer and..." Nara thought a moment before the word came to mind, "sickle."

"The flag of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, a nation of Earth's late 19th and 20th's centuries."

"Uh huh." She looked at Eve again, "Ok. What about it?"

She began talking, anything and everything that came to mind, and when she garnered no meaningful response from Nara she shook her head and pondered.

"Valentina Dmitrieva Kyznetsov," she spoke slowly.

Nara brushed a bit of hair from her face, "Valentina...Is that your name?"

She pointed to herself. "Valentina," she repeated, and then pointed at Nara, her expression intently awaiting reciprocation.

Nara smirked with a bit of relief. They were getting somewhere. "Naranda."

Valentina knew better than to expect things to be so simple, not yet.

She didn't know how to talk to Naranda, but she was friendlier than everyone else, and felt like she actually wanted to help. But how?

Resting her head in her hands, she rubbed her face for a moment and then let her hands drop, her head resting on her knees. However, purely by coincidence, a small smudge of soot was left on Valentina's forehead, just above her left eyebrow. Circular in shape, it was about the same size as the device in the mindscape.

Nara moved closer, "Valentina, will you trust me? Let us help you?"

She cocked her head to the side but didn't retreat, curious as to what Naranda was trying to say.

She didn't miss the smudge, and the similarity to something she was curious about, but no need to get too antsy about it. First thing was to get Eve or Valentina rather on the biobed to scan her. Another question on her mind was why the name changed. Why wasn't she speaking Standard?

Nara stood and paced a bit running a hand through her hair. After a bit of time, she looked at Valentina and put a hand on the bed, creating an image of the girl lying down on the bed and projecting to her.

Valentina looked at the bed for a moment, a little puzzled before understanding presented itself. She nodded and carefully got up onto the strange bed, laying down in the manner indicated.

Nara sighed relieved and suddenly realized she jumped out of Engineering without a tricorder, but thankful for Medicals efficiency, there was on a tray nearby. She took it and scanned over the woman's body. Though it wasn't designed for engineering purposes, as with all tricorders there was an uplink with the main computer core and the medical databases, which included detailed scans and schematics of Eve's - now Valentina's - cybernetic devices. After a few moments the tricorder began to emit a trilling - not a particularly good one: one of the implants was malfunctioning. Nara squinted her eyes, trying to find the exact location of the implant the tricorder was indicating.

After narrowing down the resolution, it was shown to be just above Valentina's right ear, the flat sides facing fore and back - almost directly behind that smudge mark. Coincidence? Perhaps, but in this day and age one never could tell quite when a true coincidence actually occurred. Once the specific device had been targeted, the tricorder displayed the malfunctioning equipment - her in built Universal Translator. For some reason, the nanites within her systems were completely ignoring it, as if it hadn't been broken. Nara raised an eyebrow as she called out, "Nurse, I found what we need to fix."

She looked down at Valentina, "We have to fix this. We have to sedate you." Nara projected a sense of sleep, also a sense of sleeping so they can help her.

Given the exertions of not too long ago, being on a highly strung wire, and just plain mental stress, it wasn't surprising that she dropped off without any sedatives at all. There was a sense of security Valentina sensed about Naranda that made her think of her mother. Thus it was with such thoughts that she drifted to sleep.

Nara blinked, "Uh, well." Her brows screwed a bit. What an odd situation. She looked for the nurse again, "To get to it, I need to get beyond skin. I don't do cutting unless it's slashing in battle, so if you please."

Halloway nodded and deactivated the field, asking a passing orderly to reseal the screens once she was across, bringing a selection of medical implements. It took some doing - the situation of the device amid the surrounding organic material made removing it a careful and timely procedure. When all was said and done, the nurse held in her gloved hands the exact same device that had presented itself during the trip to the mindscape. "What does this do?"

"It's a built-in Universal Translator." Hey eyes squinting at the small device, she sighed as she was about to scan further. At that moment a call came in from Engineering to report things were going at a steady pace. After listening, Nara replied, "I'm still have something to finish here, so report in another hour."

Nara reached into her tool vest and was glad to have had some of her tools in there. They were precision tools, which with such a small device, she needed. She scanned the device with a pen like scanner.

After careful study, micro fractures were revealed, lacing through the small chip. More than likely it happened some time during the battle, but it was impossible to determine for sure. Actually repairing it would be a simple, if lengthy task. Nara gulped and started working on the chip with the tools she had. Her eyes squinted in concentration.

It took 30 minutes to track down each and every micro fracture, reset the neuro-pathway simulacrums, and in general restore the implant to what should be properly working order. After it looked like it was fixed, she blinked several times, not realizing how long she went without blinking. She stood a bit stiffly, not having bothered to pull over a stool. She handed the implant back to the nurse as she took a deep breath. "OK, let's see what we can see," she muttered to herself as she set about reversing the procedure for removing this meddlesome device. Nara wiped at her eyes a bit. Her mind reeled as she began to get antsy about returning to Engineering. She watched the nurse with an absent mind.

=1 hour later=

Halloway switched off the protoplaser and looked to Nara. "I think that's it, ma'am. Would you like to do the honors of waking her up?"

Nara had been rubbing the bridge of her nose as some ensign was lamenting the trouble of getting a good grip on isolinear chips as the nurse made her announcement. "Alright, Ensign. Find some rubber fingers if you have to. Roswell out." Nara walked back to the bed.

"Maybe you should."

Someone was shaking her. Thankfully they were waking her from an odd dream, but she didn't want to get up. "Five more minutes mother," she said sleepily, rolling over onto her side and curling up a bit.

Nara smiled a bit and bent a bit down to touch her shoulder, "Eve...Valentina?"

She rolled over and finally opened her eyes.... and it was as if it was all starting over again. Rolling off of the bed, Valentina made a beeline for what looked like a door, only to slam face first into an invisible wall. It felt tingly in an unpleasant way, and when she reached forward to touch it, it sparkled. Whirling around, she looked at the two women in the room with her. "Who are you? Where am I?"

Nara watched and kept her eyes on Valentina, "I'm Naranda. You're in a medical facility."

Valentina crept along the invisible wall towards the real wall, one she could see, off to her left. "What does that mean?" She queried, keeping as much space between herself and the others as possible.

"It means you were hurt and we helped you."

"How," She asked, looking down at herself. She was clad in an outfit similar to the other two, save for their blue colorings where hers was black. "Where is this place?"

Nara gulped. She wasn't a counselor. For all intents and purposes, her job was done. Yet, she didn't feel right leaving her friend, even if she had no idea who Nara was. "Ok, let's start with what you DO know.

Where do you think you should be?"

"I should be home," she said, sliding down to the floor. If this Naranda didn't know where she was supposed to be, how would she ever get back to her family?!

Nara knelt down again, but didn't move closer, "Where's home?"

"Moskva," she said. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

Nara frowned, "Uh, no. Not even sure where Moskva is. I would assume the Soviet...Union?"

Valentina looked at Naranda extremely perplexed. "How is it that you can talk to me, but you don't know Moskva?!" This was very confusing, to say the least.

Nara raised an eyebrow, "Good question I guess. Do you know who Eve is?"

Valentina shook her head. "Should I?"

Nara gave a diplomatic smile, "No." This was way beyond her expertise.

Her mother would be better for this. "I'm not exactly qualified to give you much information, but do know you're safe. No one wants to hurt you. We only want to help you." Nara looked over at the nurse, "I strongly suggest getting a counselor down here as soon as possible."

"Believe"

(Brevet) Cpt. Brian Elessidil
CO USS Exeter

Lt. Saul Bental
Acting Chief Tactical Officer
USS Exeter

[OOC: Occurs several hours prior to "Blitzkrieg".]

Saul exhaled deeply, his throat already dry after speaking too much.

He and Captain Elessidil were reviewing the final details of the battle which would commence in a matter of hours. The pre-battle staff briefing was due to start in twenty minutes, and Saul wanted the Captain to be totally up to date on the latest intelligence, tactics and battle plans. The Captain himself probably shared the sentiment, since he drank the gallons of information Saul poured on his head with great thirst and attention.

Saul allowed himself to land on a seat, and sent a tired smile toward the only other man in the room.

Brian was not an unintelligent man, but he hadn't seen or heard battle plans in such detail since his Tactical Theory and Analysis class at the Academy, and it was beginning to show. Hand to forehead, he leaned an elbow on the console in front of him, propping his head up before he slammed face first into the smooth surface and ended up spending the battle in sickbay. He allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes for a few moments as he gently applied thumb and fingers to his throbbing temples.

"I keep thinking this is all just a dream and I'm going to wake up any minute now," he quietly confessed, returning his tactical officer's smile upon opening his eyes. It wasn't much, but it was the first thing Brian had said to anyone about how he was holding up since he'd arrived on the Exeter what now seemed like ages ago. "Saul, I really appreciate you lending your expertise here," he said, shifting the subject away from himself after a momentary pause. "The crew really needs your experience. I really need your experience," he amended.

"You're welcome, but what expertise you're talking about? A good businessman knows when he's out of his league - and I am. In my profession, when you engage in battle it means you already lost. If it was any other person at the big chair, Captain Brian, I would request to put Hawkins on the Tactical arch instead of myself for the duration of the battle."

"There's more to expertise than mere technical knowledge," Brian countered in a tone tinged with exhaustion. "I need to know that the personal character behind the knowledge is just as reliable."

Saul raised a brow. 'Reliable' was one adjective he never expected to hear in the same sentence with his name.

"You, however," he added quickly, "seem to be doing that fourth pip justice. Reminds me of our chat about shifting jobs while we were heading for Vaden."

A slight chuckle escaped Elessidil's mouth. "An ocean for want of a drop of water," he said, quoting a source whose name he couldn't recall at the moment. He paused and sighed softly. "Don't know if I'm doing the pip justice or not; I just hope I can do this crew justice and get us out of this alive. Hmf...'course if I fail I guess the whole point is moot anyway."

"It's a big fleet out there. The Exeter won't make the difference between winning and losing, so if we'll implement solid standoff tactics instead of rushing into heroics, we should come out of this combat with your point well proven."

"Spoken like a true tactician," Brian noted. "The only heroic action I'm interested in is making sure this crew doesn't suffer any more losses. Or at least as few as possible."

"Good." Saul said. He had no intention of dying. Not for ch'Rihan, at least. "Speaking of the fourth pip... how does it feel? To finally get your own command, after all those years in service?"

"I think I'm still numb from the shock. Honestly, Saul, I've never aspired to a command of my own; few counselors ever do. I'm not sure this is a good test anyway. Regardless of what I or Captain M'Kantu or Starfleet think, this crew doesn't see this as my ship. Many of them still consider me an outsider." He paused in thought for a moment. "Maybe Lieutenant Mullen's right; maybe I'm not the right person to be sitting in The Chair," Brian admitted.

"Wait-- he actually TOLD you that?"

"He's only tolerated my presence from the moment we met, Saul. He's cocky and ambitious and he saw me as a threat, and now that that threat's become real, he's especially resentful. I guess the counselor in me recognizes that he's acting out of anger and self-doubt and I'm the logical target. But I'll be honest, he hasn't said anything that I haven't already pondered myself."

Saul clenched his fists.

"What an idiot. Too bad you didn't tell me this earlier. We could've taken him out of the picture. Now it's too late - the crew won't react well so close before the battle."

"They wouldn't take a move like that well no matter when it happened.

They've lost too much," Brian said, slowly shaking his head. "I've gone over and over the situation with him in my mind and even though it might make my life easier personally to get of him, it isn't what would be best for the crew. They look up to him, and despite his feelings toward me he's a capable officer; he just needs more experience." He sighed again, thinking back to the battle. "Captain Vogler could have put him in command but she chose not to. It does me no good to second guess her judgment on that now."

He paused again, unconsciously biting his lower as he thought. "But I guess it's not doing me any good to second guess myself either," he said in the subdued tone of a man who was once again battling one of his most powerful personal demons.

"No, it doesn't." Saul agreed. "Listen, it's one thing to be uncertain about yourself, or to laugh about it with a friend. It's another thing to plant a seed of doubt in your Captain's mind. I think the crew looks up to the wrong officer. The one they should look up to is the guy who rationally handles a first officer who is bordering insubordination. "

The Dutchman shook his head. He knew Brian as a sensitive and empathic person, and it irritated him to no end to see an unworthy asshole taking advantage of that.

"Now, a Captain who can handle someone like Mullen and stay calm, is a Captain who will stay calm under Hellebore fire. Consider THAT the next time you're starting to have doubts."

Brian half-smiled, if for no other reason than the vote of confidence that he knew he needed. "Next time I'm starting to have doubts I'll come to *you* for a counseling session, Lieutenant Saul."

Saul repaid his Captain with an exaggerated salute.

"Alright," Elessidil began, mustering some energy and restoring his focus on more urgent matters. "Let's get these plans nailed down."

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda

Deck 39, Main Engineering

T'Kith'Kin and Breen...there was the part of the equation he missed. While the modified shields could handle Hydran Hellbore's, its the other weapons he wasn't sure of. The T'Kith'Kin was the biggest X-factor because of thier organic technology, so that was going to be a touch and go process if it somehow hindered or nullified the shields.

He ran one final scan of the new network before the action started when the Hydran and Breen ships finally came back up. "Sometimes it pays to be persistant," he muttered to himself when the scans showed a problem with a power relay on Deck 26. Normally, he could overlook the relay and put a notation on the roster, but this time he couldn't do that. Prime reason, the relay fed power to at least two key areas and leaving it to chance to survive the pounding it'll eventually take. was a bet he couldn't take.

He headed down a level to grab his belt, kit and 'Plan B' then moved at a good pace to a cargo bay on Deck 45 for a replacement part. After another 5 minutes, he was on Deck 26 and ripping out the old relay. His PADD was tied into the station he had been working at on Deck39 and it let him know that the Breen and Hydran ships where close to repowering just as the Miranda fired its cannon.

He closed the hatch and restarted the power flow. Everything came up to specs and actually worked better than normal. His PADD beeped, informing him that the Triad ships where up and running. Hit entered a few commands and put the entire system on complete computer control for the time being. Between the CIC and the Cores, it would work and change faster than he would be able to.

As he headed back to Engineering, he changed his destination to Deck 42, Deflector Control. Oso had tied in the dish to the new system for the possibility of using the dish as a weapon, but nothing more came of it.

He aimed to change that.

The bare fact that they needed any and all possible weapons was his mentality. Graviton waves wouldn't burnout the dish...niether would modified light beams that could ionize an enemies shields. He toyed with the idea of an anti-graviton beam bouncing off the dish, but it sounded too much like a joke and he couldn't figure out how it would be effective.

Thankfully, he had all the programming in place that he needed, it just needed a few connections in place for the whole thing to take affect. It should only take fifteen minutes.

Should...one of those words that carried too much power. If things where only so simple.

"Lady Luck"

Cadet First Class Ezri Daniels
Engineering Midshipman, USS Miranda

Main Engineering, USS Miranda
-----------------------------

This whole pre-battle tension thing was starting to get to Ezzie.

For a girl who had spent most of her young life in a state of happy-go-lucky, this was a new and entirely uncomfortable concept for her. She had known this would happen...eventually...but when she had wanted the Miranda as her cadet cruise ship, an imminent war wasn't on the horizon. And somehow she got the feeling that it wouldn't be over anytime soon.

The family presence of two war "vets," her dad and brother had comforted her--wait, her brother?

He had only been out of the Academy for a year and he was a battle hardened veteran? What kind of world was she walking headlong into?

She was as ready as she could be, watching the power system to make sure plasma energy continued to power the weapons as the battle went on. She shifted time to time, waiting for that first initial shock that was the ship taking her first hit. She just hoped that this time she didn't have to perform a miracle like she had when she grabbed that Ensign and held on for dear life when the Starbeast hit them. The thought distracted her for a moment...

***

10 days after the retreat
Cantina

-------

Chris and Ezzie had finally found time to get away from their jobs and grab lunch and talk. It had been awhile--before the battle, to be exact--since they had been able to sit down and just talk as

brother and sister. Ezzie had finally shaken off the first-battle shock, and now was apparently

becoming a big asset in Engineering.

"So, how's the attack plan coming?" She asked wispfully.

"Ehhh, still waiting to see if fleet will reinforce us...kinda hard to make a plan when you don't know what you're working with."

"I guess that makes sense." She smiled nervously.

For a few minutes she blathered on, as if she was verbally fidgeting. For Chris, it was easy to tell that something else was bothering her.

"What is it, Ez?"

She stared down at the ground, lightly kicking the toe of her shoe into the ground. Why could he always read when she was agitated? "I..saved someone...during the battle."

"So why do you look all despondent about it?"

She eyed him. "Cuz when the Starbeast hit us, Chris--it was like I wasn't in control of my own body. I grabbed him and held on. My shoulder should have been pulled out of its socket. But nothing happened at all. And--during it--"

"You heard a female voice didn't you?"

She looked surprised. "Yeah, why?"

He leaned in. "I heard the same thing last mission...and the one before. It's kept me alive twice." Chris' own words brought back the memories of being stabbed by the Romulan who didn't want to leave the Delta Quadrant planet, and the little matter of the K'aa-devil trying to kill him, Janeen, and just about everyone else. "What did she say to you?"

She shook her head. "Something about saving him, and having plans for later..." She trailed off.

Normally, she would remember a voice in her head, but this time, the words just weren't there.

Chris paused for a moment, then smiled. "Well, when all is said and done, you and I are gonna do some research into this mystery lady."

Ezzie smiled at that. Chris had always had that ability to put her at ease, even in the shittiest of situations. "Chris..I.." she tailed off and the nerves began to show.

"Hey!" He got a little stern with her. It seemed like he was doing this a lot between Ezzie, his troops and Janeen. "You be tough kid. It's going to be ugly, but we're going to win."

"Did the voice tell you that?"

"No, Ez. I know it, and I'm telling you--we're going to beat these bastards."

***

Present Day

-----------

Ezzie was kicked out of her daydream by the shudder of the deck below her feet. Instantly, chatter erupted around her from the various engineers. Just like that, the Second Battle of Romulus had begun.

And, quietly, she wished that whoever belonged to the voice bothering her family had one more little miracle in store for all of them.

"Doomsday" pt I

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smit
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

And an unknown follower....

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

The Undercity
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal

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

As promised, Elaithin met Shaw near the south entrance not long after their meeting. Arel and Jordan had returned from the latest scouting mission, as planned. Victor, of course, was always ready. A pair of Marines stood by Shaw, likely all that could be spared right now.

It was probably a bit large for a scouting party, but truthfully, Elaithin had a... feeling about this. And with this sort of thing, he always trusted his gut. Maybe even more, these days.

As he checked the power on his disruptor rifle, he quickly filled everyone in the anomalous scan that had turned up when Arel's and Shaw's scans had been compared. "So it looks like there's a one-way blind on this particular tunnel."

"Weird," Arel commented. "Who'd put something like that down here?"

"Exactly." the Bajoran nodded. "That kind of tech isn't down in a place like this without a damned good reason."

"Hopefully it's worth it. The thought of going down something like this is even creeping me out," Pete said as he looked at his two marines. "You two stay near the back. I will take point." They both nodded and moved towards the back.

"I'm with you." Elaithin nodded.

"If there are no objections to my presence, I would like to lend my services to this endeavor," Spa'an suggested, appearing wraithlike in his hooded robe from the shadows a little off to the group's side. "I believe my skills may be of use."

Jii shrugged, giving Shaw a quick look, who shrugged as well. "More the merrier, then." the Bajoran replied. "Good to have you with us, Spa'an."

"Vulcan neck pinches are always handy," Arel replied with a flicker of a smile.

Victor looked up from his preparations and studied the Vulcan for a moment wordlessly. It was true, of course; Vulcans were good to have around for that reason. Personally, he found their company better for another reason: his presence didn't affect them. Or if it did, no Vulcan had ever admitted it to him.

"Are we equipped for potential obstacles that exist past the barrier?"

he asked quietly. "I can deal with that, if needs be - but I cannot guarantee to do it quietly."

"I guarantee," Jordan said, softly, looking toward Victor, "nothing about this will be quiet."

Victor looked at her for a slightly uncomfortable length of time without making a sound. "Why?" he finally asked.

She shrugged slightly, staring ahead down the tunnel. "Just a feeling," she replied. "Whatever's done there, standing here and talking about it is only increasing the odds that our presence is revealed. We should be out. Now."

"All right." Victor slung his phaser rifle and flexed his hands, summoning a large, bulky weapon out of the Hazard Team suit's storage buffer, the lines and shape of it as the transport field formed matching only one weapon in Starfleet's arsenal: a Marine-issue Tetryon Pulse Launcher. "If we need this,:" he said quietly, hefting the pristine weapon – the Quartermaster Corps initial issue seals still evident on the trigger assembly, "everyone be warned that there will be some backblast from the weapon given the tight quarters." He methodically stripped the seals, and checked the weapon, before banishing it back to the suit's buffer. "I recommend all of you getting behind me – the shields built into the Hazard Team uniform should prevent any of you from being injured."

Pete caught the look from his two marines with him and shrugged. "Just don't shoot me, or I will be really really pissed," Pete told the Galaxy officer as they continued to head on. He pointed to one of his marines, get on point and get a light up there." The marine nodded and moved forward of the group and activated the lamp on his phaser rifle.

"I hear that." Jii quipped. "Allright, let's move out."

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

Later...

The team had gotten maybe halfway to thier objective when Jii called a five-minute stop. They'd been walking for hours, after all. Plus, Krieghoff was indicating he wanted to speak to him, quietly. "All right, folks. Five minutes."

The Bajoran went over to the Security officer, and quietly stepped to the side. "We're being followed, Mr. Kreighoff. I assume you noticed it too?"

"Yes, sir, We are being followed," Victor nodded in confirmation. "One person. Female. Not heavily laden. She has a bad habit of moving in too close when she's lost line-of-sight with us for more than a minute." He paused. "I wasn't certain anyone else had noticed."

"I've got good ears." the former Captain smirked. "Noise carries a lot in these tunnels, and I suspect our friend back there isn't used to doing her skulking herself."

"You know who it is?" Victor asked. "That makes things easier. Should I kill her? It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Oh, I've got a good idea." Jii confirmed. "If it's a problem, we'll deal with it. Right now, I want to see what she's doing."

"All right sir," Victor nodded. If it had been up to him, Victor would have killed the woman and been done with it. If the General wanted her left alive as part of a plan… well, that was fine too. It was easy to correct if it turned out to be a mistake, after all.

"Second Strike"

Acting Captain Jaal Jaxom
Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, Acting CTO
Commander Jack Dawson, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller
Lt. Colonel Alex McKeon

Murdock's orders came over the comm, Jaal added his own. "Lieutenant K'aa, let's open up strong." the Trill ordered. "Go with the cannon."

"Target, sssir?"

"Something big." Jaal grinned for the first time in three weeks. "And Jack, if we come across some a nice big chunk of burning debris, grab it with the tractor beam." Waste not want not the Trill thought.

During the Battle of Havras the Miranda had grabbed the severed warp nacelle of the Galaxy and used it destroy an enemy ship. It was a trick worth repeating if the opportunity presented itself.

Jack smiled. "My mom always taught me to speak softly and throw something big," he quipped. "I'll be on the look out, Captain," he said a little more seriously.

"Your mom was a smart woman," Jaal quipped back.

~Hmmm... something big... I believe you'll do nicely.~ K'aa locked the Miranda's main phaser cannon on the reactor of a large Dragoon-class Hydran carrier. With a compliment of over three-hundred fightercraft, and several long-range Hellbore cannons, she was a pearl amongst the Hydran stones.

~First, though... the Hellbore shield... we can't let Mister Tagra's hard work go to waste~ The Gorn activated the tactical controls and the Miranda was instantly cocooned with an amber-tinted secondary shield, one with unique properties. Shield in place, K'aa unleashed the firepower of the warship's main phaser cannon, and a blue beam of startling intensity lanced through the helpless carrier. The target shook at the same time as the Miranda, but the damage cascading from the Hydran fusion reactor rippled along her hull in blooms of crimson and white-tinted ochre.

The reptilian savored the image for a second, then made adjustments to fire upon the secondary and tertiary targets with the fore phaser array and torpedoes. The estimates for the SSP's duration were only five minutes, but five minutes was an eternity without shields or weapons. He also noted the slow reactions of the new ships in the system, they were sluggish, but they were moving despite the SSP effect. "T'kith T'Kin battlecruiserssss on our fore approaching to port on an attack vector, Captain. They're moving, but there's a ssswarm of Hydran craft between usss. We have two minutessss before they're in weaponssss range."

"Ramirez, keep our lowest profile towards those T'kith'kin," Jaxom ordered, "K'aa, can we shoot something at the Hydrans to distract the others?"

"Already on it Comm... Captain" John replied, correcting himself.

Altering the Miranda's flight profile hadn't been easy for John at first, but three years at the Helm of the massive Starship, and it had become like second nature for him. The hard part, was flying towards something that Tactical wanted to shoot at.

"Centering the cannon on another Hydran carrier - target Gamma Three", K'aa replied as his claws danced noisily on the tactical controls.

"Fore phassser arraysss and fore-port and fore-starboard launchersss targeted on carriersss Gamma Two and Gamma Four. That would eliminate a further six-hundred fightersss and create a... sssuitable dissstraction. Hrrrsss... T'kith T'K n battlecruiserssss Omega Sssix through Nine will be in weapon range in one-minute, forty sssecondsss... Ssstill no sign of target Alpha Prime... Firing weaponsss. "

Once again, the Miranda's bridge shook as the main cannon pierced the hull of a large, Hydran carrier - this time striking the fighter bays and slicing a large wound along her starboard armor. Small, cobalt-blue fighters spilled from the carrier's bay like pine needles caught in an autumn storm. From the Federation warship, bright orange vollies of quantum torpedoes accompanied by bright-blue phaser fire slammed into two more powerless carriers, each quickly breaking into a rash of large explosions and floating debris.

"Jack," Jaal called from the center seat while checking his own displays in the arms of the command chair, "grab some of those fighters with the tractor beam. If they aren't gonna use them, we will."

"Got it."

"Hydran ships are coming back online!" Alex called out from the Intelligence station. "Starbeast is moving to Attack Fleet one - looks like it has a taste for us!"

"Dusk til Dawn" - Part II

Khrystyne Carlisle (NPC)
Marine Combat Medic

"Has it really been three weeks? It doesn't feel like it. Not since the first Hydran dropships came out of the clouds on chariots of fire, anyhow.

My unit has been on the move ever since then, never staying in the same place longer than a few hours. We started out as a squad of fourteen; now we're eight if you include the two we rescued from a splashed AWACS on that first night, and we've lost contact with the rest of our platoon. I've hardly slept more than an hour or two a day, I'm sure of it. Always on the move..."

A sound carried in the echo of the niche from behind her, abruptly causing Khrystyne Carlisle to pause her personal log. Casting a concerned eye towards the tunnel entrance, she reached to her side to swing her medkit around so that she could scan its contents for a sedative out of habit, then silently berating herself for not realizing she had run out over a week ago.

Sorak and Shade had been out on the perimeter for going on two hours now.

The weaponsfire they'd all heard that prompted the two to recon the source had faded off not more than forty-five minutes previous, but that didn't negate the fact that they all knew they were alone and in the dark, separated by an unending sea of methane-breathing aliens bent on their ultimate and irrevocably final demise, and the final line on the other side of the hillock - the ocean.

Sixteen days ago, two of the three of them watched in dismay (except Chuckles - he was as usual, fascinated, being the model Vulcan he was) as spheres descended to a point in the upper atmosphere at equal distants apart and emitted intense beams of purple that inter-connected with each other in what could not be described as anything but an immense web of refracted light. Hanging over the capital city of Ki Baratan was its equal in import

- a massive ball of metal that imposed its dominance over all the others.

Khrystyne had watched its maw open every so often using her monoculars, swarms of light and flame spitting out of it to beat a hasty descent to the surface.

Someone in the squad thought it was a Tholian web, and bemoaned another enemy that had jumped on the bandwagon. History was more than forthcoming on the ages-old rivalry between the Romulans and Tholia. The source of the assuming voice was silenced by a glare from the Anuban XO, Shade. After almost three weeks in seclusion and isolation from the rest of the forces, morale was an issue, and not a single one of the remaining squad needed to be afflicted with more despondence than already existed due to the situation they unwittingly found themselves in.

History also showed there was a less than friendly relationship with them when it came to diplomacy with the Federation. The last extended contact with the xenophobic species was over ninety years previous during first contact with the now reintegrated Neyel. That hadn't turned out so well, diplomatically speaking.

If the Tholians had entered into unholy union with the Hydran/Breen/T`kith`kin alliance... The Federation was seriously fucked.

Behind Khrystyne, more soft moans escaped from the recessed alcoves of the inner chamber of the cavern. Turning her back to the narrower opening to the outside world and images of the others mucking about in the shell-shocked foliage for potential predators - Hydrans included - her thoughts turned to the bundles lying in a row several feet behind her. She just had to have faith in the guardian posted near the forefront of the entrance. One of the completely wrapped bundles, separate from the first row and off to a distant side, had attested to the efficiency of a silent trigger that had defended the locale quite vigorously. Khrystyne offered a modest thanks as she always did when she passed the remains of the Private that gave his life so that they could pass into the relative safety of the place they found themselves in.

She wondered if perhaps he was in a better place with the other seven bundles wrapped alongside him, for the dead were the only ones to have seen the end of this war, and she was weary of it all.

Another moan captured her attention, reminding her of what she could do with what skills and equipment she had remaining.

Sighing and rummaging through the remnants of her medical kit, she ignored the stained fingers, the ragged edges of her uniform cuffs, and sifted through the satchel, finally dislodging the only hypo she had left.

She didn't rush to the injured being's side; there was no need to. Rescue wasn't coming anytime soon, and the medicine she had would have to last.

"You shouldn't be wasting what you have left on him. He likely won't last another night."

"And I suppose you want it now? Finally realize how much that hurts?" The Marine combat medic held the instrument in her left hand with the tightness of a man clinging to his last possession, yet paused before injecting it in the Romulan pilot's neck. Her eyes fell to the other's shoulder wrap, matted with dark stains of scarlet blood at the base where the sling was cradled in his lap.

"Oh, I don't feel it much anymore." His other more visible hand patted the side of his head where another - more bloody and dried - bandage encircled it, covering one side completely, minus the blackened skin peaking out from under frayed edges. The ridges along his nasal bridge torn and reddened as they bent and twisted against the bandages. His one good eye swollen but now showing a visible dark iris against the reflecting light of the fire.

He leaned back against the wall where he had pulled himself up against earlier that morning, when the others had gone off to investigate.

"Phantom limb effect." She pocketed the hypo and reached across to lift the wrap over his shoulder. "You think its there, and your brain shuts down the fact that it's gone." She examined the stump of his arm where she had to remove the appendage from the elbow on down. So far there was no sign of infection.

"Nah. And anyways, phantom effect is pain in the missing limb. I've just learned to accept it. I intend to take one from a Hydran the first chance I get."

She sprayed an antiseptic on the wound and rewrapped it in fresh bandages, noticing the healing process was further along than she'd expected. Then again, she knew practically nothing about Bajoran physiology. "Don't expect to do a whole heck of a lot with what you've got left of yourself." Her eyes drew themselves to the blown apart leg that needed to be removed. "If we don't get supplies soon, you know that leg is going to have to come off, right?"

"We'll see about that. I've got a knack for recovery."

"Uh-huh." Carlisle shook her head, examining the rest of him with a skillful eye. Several broken ribs, a shattered vertebrae that wasn't paralytic just yet, one leg shattered beyond conventional repair, the other in need of major regeneration. One hand gone, the other missing a pair of fingers, an eye burned right out of its socket, half his head having followed right behind, and a severe fracture running like a fault line vertically down the back of his skull. He'd begun to bleed internally several days ago, but that seems to have stopped. She was worried about the leg, though. It'd blossomed with infection and pooled blood. He was on the line, and whether he agreed or not, she would have to do what she needed to to keep him alive. And that meant phasering off the leg just above the knee joint.

Problem was, she wasn't skilled enough to do it. They needed a real doctor.

"Believe me when I asy, Private, that it takes a lot more than a few broken blood vessels, bones, gangrene, and missing limbs to take me down. So long as I breathe, I'll fight. I've no intention of slipping into one of those bundles over there without one."

"You just might have that chance, Colonel Mitchell. We're running out of places to hide."

"We're going to get out of this one, Private. Count on it. And when we do, you and I are going to have drinks. Bet on it. It's a sure thing when it comes to me."

New Awakening Part 4

Featuring:

Naranda Roswell

and

Valentina Dmitrieva Kyznetsov
Also known as Ensign Eve

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

Valentina looked at Naranda extremely perplexed. "How is it that you can talk to me, but you don't know Moskva?!" This was very confusing, to say the least.

Nara raised an eyebrow, "Good question I guess. Do you know who Eve is?"

Valentina shook her head. "Should I?"

Nara gave a diplomatic smile, "No." This was way beyond her expertise. Her mother would be better for this. "I'm not exactly qualified to give you much information, but do know you're safe. No one wants to hurt you. We only want to help you." Nara looked over at the nurse, "I strongly suggest getting a counselor down here as soon as possible."

Halloway nodded and her hand was halfway up to her combadge when the most unexpected event occured.

That is, the Red Alert siren sounded.

Valentina nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the alarm, looking to Nara with fear in her eyes. "What does that mean?!"

Nara held up her hands and calmly explained, "It's just an alert. It means I need to get back to my job."

She watched the scared woman a second before looking at the nurse, "Am I dismissed?"

Halloway meanwhile was motioning to an orderly, and with a shimmering pop the field dropped. "I need you to do something for me, if you can," she said as she turned arround. "Could you drop her off at her quarters? I'd prefer she be here for observation, or an emergency shelter where there are people that she can connect with, but we don't have time to get her changed into a different uniform - the confusion that would cause!"

Nara thought for only a second. She felt caught, but clenched her teeth making a decision she was sure would come back to bite her. She nodded to the nurse and hit her commbadge, "Main Engineering, this is Lt. Roswell. I am still delayed. Get systems up. It's a red alert; you know what to do, so do it. I will be there soon." She closed the comm without allowing anyone to answer and looked at Valentina, "Do you trust me to take you to another room? It'll be much more comfortable."

Valentina was confused by all of this. Alerts, Engineering, and everything, thing she didn't grasp. The thought of a place more comfortable than her present location was verry apealing and so she nodded. "Where are we going?"

Nara was just as confused by Valentina as Valentina was by her surroundings. It was obvious it was some sort of amnesia. It wasn't even clear this woman understood she was on a starship. Let alone she lived on one. Nara tried to keep things as vague as possible. "A suite. You can sleep there, eat there." Nara reached for the woman's elbow to lead her. This didn't need to take long. Not being at her post during a red alert, while being, for all intents and purposes, acting cheif, would not bode well for her career. Best case scenerio it would delay promotion even more. Worst case, she'd get court marshalled or thrown off the ship. Nara couldn't help but think this was priority. It was a torn type of thing. She knew her duty. She ached and itched to get to it. But she felt no one else could handle Eve/Valentina as she needed to be.

Much like no one could take care of Saia. Not that Nara was doing a great job. Call her a control freak. She was.

Valentina Followed Nara's guidance obediently, being led out of the 'medical facility' and into the hall beyond. She remembered her first mad dash out of there, whenever that had been, and the chase that had ensued. She looked around, but didn't see any of the men with the flashlights ... or whatever they really were. "What is a suite?"

Curiosity tinged her voice now, though there were still undercurrents of fear and anxiety present.

Nara walked at a brisk pace, hoping Valentina would keep up. "A set of rooms I suppose is a good definition. It usually just has a bathroom and a bedroom. Some have livings rooms and a few have small kitchens.

It's actually called quarters, but I wasn't sure you would understand that. Looks like it didn't matter." Nara didn't mean to be rude, but watching her diplomatic skills was hard when all she was thinking about was Engineering and what mess she would see when she finally got there. And if Jilles would be standing there tapping his feet judgementally.

"Um .. ok." They came to what Valentina percieved as a dead end, and the doors whisked open upon their aproach, at which point she stopped in her tracks.

Nara stepped but stopped seeing Valentina stop, "Now what?" Nara swallowed and sighed, trying to keep her patience. "We need to get on so we can go to the deck the room is on."

Valentina nodded, still not understanding much of anything except they needed to step into a dead end to get to where they wanted to go.

Stepping forward slowly, she entered the small compartment, jumping when the door's hissed their closure.

Nara rubbed the bridge of her nose, suddenly realizing she had no idea what deck to go to. She spoke to the computer knowing the questions it would ensue from the amnesiac. "Computer, Ensign Eve's quarters. And what room assignment is that please?"

"Ensign Eve's quarters are located on Deck 8, section 16, number 872-16," the computer replied. Valentina, meanwhile, was getting more and more confused. Disembodied voices, magical doors and dead end closets, decks and quarters, sections and suites. What nnext?

Moments later the Turbolift opened to a similar looking corridor and Nara stepped out, took a few seconds to orient herself and began walking, "Should be this way, toward the end of the corridor."

Valentina could tell it was different, but how? There hadn't been any sensation of movement, and the concept of everything outside of the closet moving was as far beyond her imagination as was the possibility that the closet was a conveyance, able to take her to many different places. Still, she stepped outside with the same trepidation she had entered with, thankfull when the magical doors swished closed, hiding that disturbing chamber from her sight. As nara continued on, she followed, her mind numb. "Tina," she finally said.

"Huh?" Nara absently asked as she scanned the rooms that passed her view.

"Everyone used to call me Tina," she said quietly.

"You can call me Nara, Tina." Slowing, she looked both ways to see where the numbers went and decided turning left.

It wasn't much farther that they traveled before the apropriate numerals apeared, and at Tina's presence the doors swished open.

Within was the same location she had been before, back when she'd first run and they had made the light hurt her. But the men with the strange flashlight things weren't here, so it must be OK now. "This is mine?" She asked as she stepped inside.

Nara nodded, "Yes. Everything in here. Will you be ok now? I'll show you how to lock the door, but I need to get to work. You'll need to stay in here until someone comes to help you. Likely a counselor."

"I think so," Tina said, unsure of just about everything. She settled down on the bed and pulled the blanket about her, as if trying to hide from the verry terrifying truth of reality.

Nara looked at her a moment, "I'll come check on you when I can. This is trite, but everything WILL be alright. Just stay here and wait this out. Then someone will come and we'll help you." She turned and pressed a few buttons. "It'll lock behind me. If you need anything, press this call button. I have it going to the Counseling department."

A muffled "ok" came as she peered out from under the blanket to watch Nara indicate the button, a comfortingly large blue one, one Tina didn't think she'd have any trouble finding if she really needed it.

"Nara!" she called out just as Nara stepped out the doorway. When she had the woman's attention, "Thank you," she spoke softly, a small smile on her lips - the first she'd displayed since her first awakening.

Nara nodded and gave a small smile back, "You're welcome. Try to get some rest." Then she made her way back to Engineering in as quick as a way possible, knowing she should had been there several minutes ago.

"Fire the Hammer"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

Steven looked down at the control panel and then up at Dhani before shrugging his shoulders. "I know Hydran as well as I know Quantum Singularity Fluctuation Mechanics." he stated, using the first complex term he could think of. "Though this area looks like a visual targeting representation, but I don't know for sure."

Dhanishta followed his finger and nodded slowly. "That looks like the main control panel." she suggested unsure.

"Could be, but we have no way of knowing for sure." Steven replied, his eyes being drawn to the now dead Hydrans leaning up against what Steven guessed was the Captain's chair.

Opening her back pack, Dhanishta removed the data padd she had brought. It contained a brief on the Hydran language, yet as she read it and compared it to the signs before her she became more confused.

Steven looked around. The creepy walls seemed more alive in here than out in the hallway and Steven hoped that they didn't suddenly come alive and attack. Dead Hydrans littered the room, necks snapped, phaser blast holes in the chest, puncture wounds from a knife, it was all there to see. That and several consoles all covered in Hydran writing. If only he knew their language, they'd have fired the weapon by now and escaped from the stinking death trap that the Hydrans called a ship.

"Trying to decode this shit this way, is going to take forever." Dhani moaned, her face scrunching up with frustration. "It doesn't make any sense!" she griped indicating the padd. "The language is more complex than the Klingons realized, that or they have really crap translators." She scratched her head irritated.

"This is pointless." she shouted throwing the padd across the bridge, only for it to bounce off the squishy walls and land on the floor with a soft thud. "I am an engineer, not a god dammed translator!" she cursed and hit the panel before her.

Damn that's going to leave a mark, Steven though as he watched Dhani hit the console. If that was how Dhani felt, he wondered if she knew that the only thing Steven was capable of translating to Hydran was death. It looked like the mission was a bust, but at least they had taken out the bridge crew. That would put them back for a while. Of course, if it was weeks before the Fleet arrived to reengage the Hydrans, they'd have fixed that little problem and thus undo everything Dhani and he had done.

Steven looked from Dhani, who had a massive scowl on her face, to the console beside them and then to the PADD sitting on the spongy floor on the other side of the room. "What if we just start pressing buttons?" Steven asked after a minute.

Dhanishta's frown lines depended as she stared at him and his ridiculous suggestion. "That is the most ludicrous thing you have said since we came here. How am I supposed to know what to press? I don't even know where to start. If I just start randomly pressing buttons who knows what alarms that could set off. Were you born stupid or did you have to work at it?" she criticized her voice pitching.

"Well, that there," he indicated what he assumed was the helm control with a pointed finger, "looks like it might be helm control. We could try and turn the ship, rather than actually targeting, since we aren't likely to figure it out quickly."

"If I can't figure out where the targeting device is, how the hell am I supposed to work out which buttons control the helm?" Dhani snapped back. Sighing she turned back to the panel. How hard could it really be? Besides they had to do something, they couldn't just sit here and do nothing. The plan was not flawed, and she would never admit to herself being flawed either. They could do this, they had to do this, the rest of the quadrant was depending on them, or more accurately her pride was depending on her, "Pass me the padd. I'll give it another shot." she said a little more calmly.

"Yep, quick and dirty, but it might work." He said with a smile.

"Yeah, just like your move on my sister." Dhanishta commented dryly as she focused her attentions back to the console layout. She cocked her head to one side, trying to get into the mind of a Hydran; if she were a Hydran where would she put the 'start' button?

"Excuse me? What has your sister got to do with any of this?" Steven replied, feeling the venom fill his voice. He started over to the PADD, hoping to cool off as he retrieved it.

"Nothing really." Dhani replied just as icily. She breathed deeply trying to keep her cool. She knew that she was frustrated, with the situation, with Jonas, with her own lack of knowledge. The latter pissed her off the most. She hated not knowing everything; she hated feeling useless when she knew that she was the one that was supposed to know how to work this.

"Well not that it is any of your business, but guess what.... It's NONE of your business." He said as he dropped the PADD into her hands.

Dhani slammed the padd on the desk and whirled round to face him, the chair she sat in seemed to spring up as her weight shifted on it. "Quite frankly it is my business when you screw around with my twin sister!" she stood up advancing on him, "You may not understand the bond between siblings but when you fuck with her you fuck with me!" she informed him aggressively, "Do you understand that or do you need a demonstration of my sincerity?"

He wished he could be down on the planet, with Faylin and the marines. He just didn't think they were going to survive this mission. "How about we drop this, and focus on causing as much damage as possible?"

"Fine with me!" Dhani replied her eyes narrowing on him. She snatched the padd off the desk and began to transcribe the pictograms again. The anger she felt seemed to spur her on, it gave her a new drive. Right now she wanted no more that to find the weapons control and shoot the hell out of every Hydran ship that she could see. It was beginning to make more sense second time round, even though she still didn't have a clue what she was looking at, the information was beginning to match up.

"Got it." she hissed after a few minutes of silence. A smug smile crossed her face as her fingers began to tap on the control panels. "Be prepared for company."

Slowly the enormous bioship began to turn in the relative quite of space. Against the black backdrop the weapons platforms aboard the Hammer of Absolution hummed back into existence, lights across the bow of the ship flickered to life and then the darkness was punctured as the hellbore cannons tore through the vacuum…

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part One

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

It had been twenty-one days since the Hydrans took Romulas. Most that had been left behind, trapped in the fury of war had made it underground to relative safety. Yet there were some who remained on the surface, remained trapped, eking out an existence. Supplies to the front line became scarce, as the front line no longer had a definite boundary. They had tried, in vein, to protect the capitol Ki Baratan. Yet that mission had failed long ago during the first week of occupation when the ground troops descended in their masses.

There were simply not enough of them to defend or protect the capitol. So many ran in fear as the first wave crescendoed across the land, so many shot dead before they had time to scream.

The fighting on the surface was harsh. There wasn't one woodland track, street, ally or heath that one could walk through without seeing firsthand the destruction, the blood, the decaying bodies of men, woman and children; the blade of the Hydran penetrated not only the heart of the planet but its people too. The scars of this war would be everlasting.

Not a single thought had gone to how the Romulans would rebuild their home once they regained it; all their energies were poured, heart, body and soul into fighting to retake it. But so much had been destroyed in their efforts to keep the upper hand against such a vicious enemy. They did not differentiate between the young and the old; everything on two legs was a viable target in the Hydrans eyes, everything; homes, factories government buildings, all of them were just targets to destroy. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the commoners as to why such hatred was centered towards their home and families.

Maybe someday they would find out why the Hydran sort to destroy all they held dear, maybe, if they took the time to flick back through the pages of their history books they would understand that their ethos of deception, slavery and conquest was perhaps partly to blame. Yet that would be if any books were left once this was over, and who exactly rose up out of the ashes once the smoke cleared.

For those that fought it was brutal. The stress put upon the Starfleet officers to continue, to hold on and not surrender. Every day the death toll rose just that little bit more. With every encounter, every skirmish, another notch was carved into the preverbal belt of the enemy, it became harder and harder to see any glimmer of hope. Every victory over the Hydran, no matter how large, left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.

The wind whistled through the trees across a hill top, the birds ruffled their feathers against the harsh chill of the night. An animal in the distance howled, yet even the sound of the undergrowth could not detract from the sounds of battle. It seemed that in every corner of this planet a conflict raged. A t'liss flew on the breeze, its direction changing with the flow of the undercurrent. It hovered, its wings beating upon the air for only a second before it dived into the tall grasses and made its first catch of the night.

Below, nestled in that same hill, was a bunker. Dug out of the frozen dirt by many hands, fashioned in the military way. Deep inside a lamp burned brightly on a make shift table, Captain Rogers sat hunched over, peering at a map of the city.

"It's zero hundred hours Captain, shouldn't you get some rest Sir?" a soft voice penetrated the silence.

Rogers nodded as he took a pin and placed it in the map, "How are our troops doing in the East?" he asked, not having registered what his Lieutenant had said, just noting her presence behind him.

The Bolian woman sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked over his and to the map upon the table. She shook her head in the shadows, she understood his resolve to keep going, but they just didn't have the numbers any more. Their platoon had been sixty strong the day they step foot on Romulas. Now, however, there were only thirty or so. And that number kept dropping.

"News from the East is not good sir." she replied, "Comm. traffic is sketchy at best. As soon as we find a channel to broadcast on the Hydran manage to scramble it." it had been that way all month, the first two weeks hadn't been so bad, they had managed to orchestrate several crushing maneuvers on the Hydran with the use of the communications device. But they had obviously conned on to what they were doing. "The last thing we managed to get from them was that they had found a 'nest'."

Rogers turned sharply to face her, his shadow dancing along the dirt walls, "Did they engage?" he demanded.

She simply shrugged and shook her head slowly, "I don't know Sir." she replied in an even tone.

From beyond the alcove that served as a doorway to the 'Command hole' the sound of boots could be heard as they thudded on the dirt ground.

"It's been fucking weeks and they are still aren't back! Fuckin wankers the lot of them! Ya know what I'm gonna do when and *if* they come back?"

"What's that Tin-Can?"

"I'll take them all out, that's what I'll bloody do!"

The voices faded from Rogers' ears as they passed the arch, not that he even heard them. They were all suffering in some way down here, under the ground. He knew that there were pockets of resistance dotted all around the capitol, his troops regularly reported coming into contact with others that they did not recognize from their hovel here, yet the encounters were brief, and the information, like communications, were patchy.

Living underground for almost an entire month took its toll in more ways than one. Rogers felt the deprivation of the simple things, the fresh air and the 'sun' light on his skin. Even on a Starship he got that light and along with it that feeling of being alive.

It wasn't just the mundane things that got him and his troops down; it was the more important things like food. Rogers couldn't remember the last time he had a filling meal. The rations had dwindled and for the last few days he had passed off his share to the soldiers, they needed it more than he did. They needed their bodies to be strong and nourished, even if it was with a regurgitated freeze-dried cardboard substitute.

Slowly he sat back down at the desk, pouring over the map once more, rubbing his three week old stubbled chin as his weary brown eyes assimilated what he put before them. He had marked with pins the locations he knew pockets of Hydrans to be and the key targets that he knew they had taken. Yet without proper intelligence he was unable to make a decision, he was totally lost down here. No eyes, no ears, no voice. Totally cut off from everything. Completely confused, hunger gnawed at him, sleep deprivation turned him into a zombie; unable to think, unable to feel, totally numb from the brain down and the only thought that plagued his tattered mind, overpowered the dedication to perform his job, was the lives of the men and women that surrounded him.

Guilt pummeled his every waking hour, guilt for the lives that death had already taken and the perpetual question that lingered within him; was their sacrifice worth it? If he had the chance to make those decisions again, send them to their deaths again, knowing that was what would happen, would he do it?

He knew that as a Captain, as the one in charge, the one that held all their lives on the knife edge, the answer should be 'yes'. He should be clear in his reasoning, determined in his follow through, his moral should be high, he should lead his men with unbridled enthusiasm, yet he couldn't honestly answer that question. He no longer knew what was right, if their presence here was making any difference to the war effort. His faith in their cause, in the Federation itself was wavering. He refused to let his men be pawns, yet that was all they were. The stress of command, the shear pressure beat upon him hard, and without even registering that Leonora was still present he bent over the table and wept.

He wept for the pain he felt, the helplessness he felt, for all that he had lost, for all the men he had betrayed. For it was he that was supposed to protect them, they were under his command; they were as close and as dear to him as his own children. And that was something else that punctured a hole in his heart, made his breath still and his chest ach, for somewhere deep within he knew that he would never see his children again. And he no longer knew if Romulus was really worth leaving his wife a widow and his children fatherless.

Was there anything that was worth the life of a father and a husband?

"Get Your Hands Dirty" - Part I

U.S.S. Miranda

Featuring:

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic

A bunch of random NPC's who will mostly die the old "Red Shirt" Death :-P

Timeline: The beginning of the Second Battle of Romulus, 8 days after Max's meeting with Dr. D'Bari

Deck 23, MedLab 2

Max was finishing up his rundown for the field kit he put together. Dr. D'Bari had given him permission to go mobile and triage/treat in the field on the condition that he returned immediately to sickbay if too many wounded came in. He felt in top form. He was itching to get out of sickbay and do what he did best - get his hands dirty. He knew he wasn't going off ship, but it was enough that he can first respond.

Satisfied that he had all that he needed, he turned to the two new corpsmen he recruited to help out (with Dr. D'Bari's permission, of course).

"We're going to go through the triage system," began Max. "There are four levels of triage a mass casualty incident, and trust me, this qualifies if there ever was one."

Max paused to see that he did indeed have the newbies attention. One was a short human from Mars colony named Jurgen Stadler, a Crewman Apprentice. The other a tall Hispanic woman from Earth's Puerto Rico named Arelis Moreno, also a Crewman Apprentice. They both came on board just a couple of weeks ago right out of Starfleet Medical 'A' School o finish out their rotations. Being that fleet was getting short on medical personnel, it only seemed logical that they do their finals in a combat setting.

Max appraised these youngsters. They barely looked older than 18. In fact, they both were just 18 years old, enlisting in Starfleet at the age of 17. They had rudimentary knowledge of basic combat medicine, but he wondered if they would hold up in the real thing. He remembers his days on the civilian freighter, how many times he traded his dermal stimulator and bandage pads for a phaser when the chips were down. He never liked having to fight, but knew it was a necessity. Would these kids feel the same?

Max began his quick lesson of field triage.

"Now, keeping in mind these four levels, we have the following: black tag, red tag, yellow tag, and green tag."

The doors to MedLab 2 parted and a flustered Crewman Hank Ayers came rushing in. Max didn't expect anyone else to be joining his little party.

"Hey, Ayers, what gives," asked Max.

"Doc wanted me to give you guys a hand, figured you might need the help," Ayers responded, now catching his breath. "She said you were giving a briefing here, and I didn't want to miss anything."

Max thought for a second. "You've had 'B' training, right?" He was referring to the Starfleet Medical 'B' School, which went into deeper coverage of field/combat medicine.

"Yeah, I did. So what'd I miss?"

"Well, I was starting into my quick review of the field triage system, but being that you should already know that, replicate yourself a field kit and then get back."

Ayers gave Max a look, but thought better of what he was going to say and simply walked off to the replicator.

Max turned his attention back to the two rookies, paying no mind to Ayers attitude. He had a not so pleasant run in with Ayers right after he assumed his new role as Paramedic, and he's dealt with that type before and learned to simply ignore it until they become insubordinate. He knew of Ayers' history as well, busted from Petty Officer 3rd for running his mouth to someone with brass on their shoulders. A Lieutenant, Max thought. In fact, if it weren't for the personnel shortages, Ayers would probably be on some freighter patching up boo-boos and the like.

Although that would be a step up for him because freighters usually don't have docs on board, Max thought.

Shaking his head and putting on a smile for the benefit of the two students, he continued.

"Black tags are simple," said Max, holding a square transponder with a thick black line across the center. "If they are not breathing, check for vitals using your medical tricorder. If there are minimal readings, attempt Tri-Ox/Vasopressin/epinephrine administration. If no response, they're dead. Black tag 'em with the appropriate transponder and you move on."

Besides being handy for trips to environments like the surface of Vulcan, Tri-Ox has the ability to stimulate spontaneous respiration in a patient who is has respiratory depression. Add Vasopressin, and you give the vasoconstriction. With Epineprhine, you increase the potential for contractility.

"Next we have red tags." Max held up an almost identical transponder, only this one had a res stripe across the center, and there was a red LED in the center. It also looked a bit thicker than the "black tag". "These are people who respond to the resuscitation cocktail, but are in dire need of immediate invasive or sustaining care. You tag them with these and a prearranged intraship transport will commence to designated medical intake areas. Sickbay will not be the only medical intake, but it will be the command center for us. We are simply staging here-" Max waved his arm outward, indicating the MedLab "-for ease of access both upward and downward. In the event of turbolift failure, we use Jeffries Tubes or any other crawlspace we can find. In case of transporter failure, well guess what - you're it for that red tag. you are sufficiently equipped with what you need for red tags in those backpacks."

Max chose backpacks for the medkits, which can hold a mini transporter and enough materials in it's transport matrix to treat up to 30 major patients.

"Next up are the yellow tags. These people have significant injury, but can wait for definitive care. Try to get them to a safe location near you and tag 'em all for later transfer. Finally-" Max started, but was interrupted by Ayers lumbering back to the group with his field medpack.

"Hey, you done yet, Mr. Paramedic?" Ayers was practically sneering when he said that.

Max didn't have time for this and decided to put Ayers in his place and fast. There wasn't going to be any time or place for anyone's bullshit when the battle starts.

"Let me make one thing clear, Crewman. This is my detail. That means that everyone here is under my direction. That includes you. I can give two shits that you've been here for a couple of years. I can also give two shits what you think of me or the position that I'm in. We all have a job to do here, and we are ALL going to do it, do I make myself CLEAR, MISTER??" Max became very dark and his eyes almost seemed to glow like onyx cast aglow in two moons. This was the point where people who knew Max backed off. But Ayers happened to be one of the dumb fucks who didn't.

"Hey, pal I don't take orders from Fast-Tracks, I earned my stripes," spat Ayers, pointing to his collar pip.

"I didn't know people earned their rank backwards," Max said, entirely cool and without a hint of sarcasm.

Ayers was about to say something else, when the PA announced 'Battlestations'. He looked at Max and with a hint of threat in his voice said, "We'll finish this later."

"No we won't. The only thing we will be doing is sitting in Dr. D'Bari's office and talking about your transfer, because as far as I'm concerned, I've had enough of your nasty ass attitude. Right now, we don't have time for this." Max quickly chose between the two Crewman Apprentices, who were both wide eyed watching the entire exchange between the older and senior techs. "Stadler, you go with Ayers. Moreno, you're with me. Ayers, you check in with me every 15 minutes. All red taggers can go to Sickbay. MedLab 1 will be the overflow on my notification. Understood?"

Ayers looked side wise at Max and mumbled something like 'whatever'.

Max moved to the doors with his MedPack.

"Move out. Moreno, we're going below to the Engineering deck."

"Yessir," said Moreno and left with Max.

Ayers shook his head and mumbled to himself. Stadler looked at Ayers and seemed to have a question but was scared to ask.

"What's on your mind, rookie," asked Ayers, not exactly being friendly.

"Well, Mr. Maxwell didn't tell us what a green tag was," asked Stadler, obviously nervous.

Ayers snorted and answered, "That would be your walking wounded, which is pretty much what everyone is going to be. This field triage shit is an absolute waste of time. C'mon, let's head to one of the forward decks and wait there. Might as well enjoy the view, while we wait."

Ayers had no idea what kind of front row seat he was going to get.

"Confrontation, Part 3"

Vaebn (NPC - Stuart)
RNI Operative

****

Ki Baratan
ch'Rihan

****

The hole in the window, from the shady Rihanna's missed shot on him not a handful on minutes before, let the chill night air fill the room, causing Vaebn to shiver. This was not how he had pictured his death. And especially not being killed in front of his daughter. Tears started forming as he realized that she was about to witness the death of her father. Wiping them away, he stood tall, hoping to show her that he was a proud headstrong man who wasn't afraid of death.

"I love you, Sindari." he said to his daughter as he looked into her eyes.

"Oh what a lovely sentiment. And where have you been for her in the past three years? I've been her father." Khaiell said, a smirk on his face.

"Just shut up and get on with it." Deletham said. His eyes had been darting around the room for some way out of their situation.

"OUCH!" Khaiell shouted as Sindari bit his arm.

Sindari dived for the ground after biting him. She was scared for her daddy and her uncle and hoped it was enough to help them.

Vaebn reached for the knife in his pocket and threw with all his might at the Hydran, the shaft stabbing deep into his mask and head. As his body slipped to the ground, Khaiell moved his disruptor around to shoot the girl.

Deletham reached behind Vaebn and retrieved the second disruptor, the one Vaebn had taken from the dead Gorn bodyguard. he raised it and fired, scoring a direct hit to Khaiell's own weapon. The weapon went skidding along the ground as Khaiell looked up at the brothers.

Vaebn dived over the huge table and made a beeline for the traitor. "Go stand with your uncle, Sindari."

Reaching him, Vaebn raised his fists. "How dare you threaten my family." He swung at Khaiell, who was anticipating the move and managed to block it effectively. The same happened with the next few consecutive punches, until one slipped past and slammed into his chest. Winded, the traitor took a step back his arms out in front of him in a futile attempt to ward off any further attacks. Vaebn didn't let up but kept raining punches down on him.

"Close your eyes and cover your ears, baby" Deletham whispered into Sindari's ear. "I don't want you to see what daddy is about to do."

She complied and closed her eyes.

Vaebn was slamming his now raw fists into the pitiful Rihanna with wild abandon, as he slowly forced him towards the window. Finally he stopped as the bloody mess that was Khaiell rose to a standing position. "Is that all you got?" He asked through clenched teeth.

Vaebn shook his head, grabbed the man's arm. "I hope you meet lots of your new brothers in hell, Khaiell. Cause that's where you are going now." He pulled with all his might and spun the traitor towards the weakened window, watching in satisfaction as he slammed into it shattering it into a million pieces as his body continued through and began it's descent to the ground, some ten floors below.

His body was sore all over, but the adrenalin was flowing and he hastily ripped his shirt and made a couple of bandages for his hands.

Deletham tapped Sindari on the shoulder and she looked up at him. Deletham just pointed at Vaebn and she turned to see her daddy walking over to her. Jumping to her feet, she ran to him, her arms wide.

Vaebn took her into his embrace and held her tight. "I missed you baby." he said as he spun her around in his arms.

"I missed you too daddy." she replied as she kissed him on the cheek.

They needed to get out of there as quickly as possible, but Deletham let them have their embrace for a moment longer. Who knew how many other Hydrans were nearby. Picking up their disruptors, he placed his into its holder before walking over to the reunited family. "We need to get out of here." he said, "I have a safe house not far from here."

Vaebn nodded. "Now that I have you in my life again, it is time to rebuild the tr'Jaihen house to its rightful place in Rihannsu society."

Deletham nodded in response.

"But first, we need to get you to safety, hon," he said, giving Sindari a slight squeeze, "and then we take our city back." Vaebn finished as the trio turned for the door.

"Doomsday" pt II

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smit
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

And an unknown follower...

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

The Undercity
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal

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

"Coming up on it," Pete reported from point as he swept his phaser across his horizon again. "Still clear up here."

Arel kept her phaser ready. "This is it, Captain."

Jii looked around, fighting the wince at the mention of his old rank.

Some people, it seemed, just weren't going to break habits - or let him forget it. One or the other. The wall was, it seemed, an ordinary, unassuming tunnel. Old brick and mortar, small rodents, the smell of sewage... Little too easy, too perfect. At least, knowing what they did with the scans. Walking by on his own, he wouldn't have given any of it a second thought. "Jordan, you have the holographic disruptor?"

It was one of the "toys" he'd picked up months ago, on his journey across known space to get his wife back. One of those stops had included "appropriating" some SFI tech from a safe house. He'd meant to give it back... really.

"I knew I forgot something," she mumbled, glancing at her husband with a soft smile as she moved up the group, closer to him, raising the handy little piece of SFI technology from her pack. "When you have one primary responsibility, Jii, you don't shuck it..."

"All right." He nodded. "Put it... there," Jii said, indicating a point on the base of the wall. Jordan was already heading in the direction easily calibrating the piece of equipment she was discovering she had more than a passing familiarity with. "Everyone be ready."

"On mark," Jordan said, settling it and pressed the arming sensor, moving quickly, but carefully away. "Mark."

There was a brief flash as the disruption field engaged, disrupting any holograms in the area. With it, the holographic blind faded away, revealing another, shorter and more modern looking tunnel. Of course, modern was a relative term...

"I could have done that just as easily with a grenade or phaser," Pete said with a grin as he scanned their new surroundings. "And I really need to learn not to be surprised about these kinds of things when Romulans are involved."

"It would be a good lesson," Jordan said, glancing at the man, matching his expression with a slight detachment. "Don't worry, Pete.

There will be

plenty of time for the big booms and impressive explosions in not too long."

"Looks old," Arel commented.

"Judging from the style and materials of its construction, approximately two hundred years by Federation time," Spa'an confirmed.

"Though all of this

could be an elaborate, though less technologically sophisticated, deception."

"Two hundred years?" Pete asked. "That would put it at the early points of the Federation if not early Earth-Romulan conflict era?"

"More the latter," Jordan said with a frown as she studied her tricorder. The readings were... less than desirable.

"Places like this rarely change much," Victor observed quietly as he studied the area. "There are underground tunnels for mass transport vehicles that no one has seen, much less ridden through, in that long or longer on Earth and a dozen other worlds. Sewage tunnels are even more common. I had to map fifty miles of tunnels like this on Cardassia just after the war under the capitol city, and I know there were probably as many more that I never found."

Elaithin felt a twinge in his gut at the mention of Cardassia - he'd been there too, with the Galaxy, right after the Dominion War. He'd seen the carnage that the Jem'Hadar had wreaked on his people's former oppressors.

He'd almost died there, too, after a near-fatal disruptor shot from a member of the so-called "Cardassian Liberation Front" - members of the old guard who'd violently objected to the Allied presence on their world.

It wasn't a happy memory.

They started proceeding forward down the tunnels. Spa'an heard it first.

Coming to an unexpected halt, the Vulcan focused his highly acute sense of hearing further ahead. "It would appear this tunnel is still very much in use," he said in slightly muted tone. "There is activity ahead...and quite a lot of it. If we are to continue in this direction I advise we do so cautiously, as whomever or whatever is the source of the sounds outnumbers us considerably."

It was the smell that tipped Jii off. "Methane." he said aloud. "The Hydrans are definitely in there. Arel, Jordan, can you pick up anything on your tricorders?"

"No," Arel replied.

" They've definitely put a sensor mask around the area," Jordan said, "it started back at the blind."

"All right." Jii nodded. "We go in quietly. Me and Krieghoff first, Arel, you and Pete next. Then Jordan and Spa'an, and Montoya and Alvarez."

They entered through the door, finding themselves on a catwalk overlooking a large - extremely large - round room, approximately the size of a Coliseum he'd once seen in Rome, back on Earth.

200-year-old Romulan technology decorated the walls, attached to much newer Hydran technology. A huge column spread down from the ceiling, disappearing into a massive pit in the center of the floor.

And there were Hydrans *everywhere*.

"Prophets," Jii muttered under his breath. "What *is* that thing?"

"Nothing good," Jordan said, closing the useless tricorder and reattaching it to her belt, moving up to get a better look. In almost two decades of intelligence work, she had seen a lot of things. This was a new one.

"Thank you, Colonel Obvious." he muttered under his breath back at his wife.

"I believe it is a deep-core probe, although this particular design and configuration is unfamiliar to me," Spa'an replied. He turned to Jii. "If its purpose is to allow the Hydrans to access the planet's core, as would be logical to assume, Romulus could be in greater danger than anyone suspected." It was almost an art, the way a Vulcan could express concern while remaining true to the philosophy of emotional mastery.

"It's older than that." Jii concluded. "The Hydrans couldn't have built this in twenty-one days - The Romulans put his here."

Victor looked at the device and knew without needing any explanation what it was, and what it was for. The principles would be different, but the results would be the same if it were allowed to activate: this world would die, just as Jhorjah had. Unless he stopped it.

"Like I said," Jordan followed, looking at the Vulcan, "it's nothing good."

"Mr. Krieghoff?" Jii interrupted, cutting off the speculation that was getting them nowhere. "Bring our friend here, would you? Gently, if you don't mind?"

"Yes, sir. Gently it is." Victor nodded as he slung his phaser rifle and eased back into the tunnels. Two steps into the tunnel and he was lost in the shadows, another step and he was one with the darkness and lost to sight.

"I wonder if she knows how bad a tail she makes," Jordan said toward her husband. "It's almost sad."

"This isn't her game." he shrugged. "She's a plotter, a schemer, or a warrior. Doing the footwork? I doubt if she ever has before."

A moment later, Krieghoff returned - hand wrapped tightly around Admiral Sela's forearm. "Tell your henchman to unhand me, Elaithin."

"Get Your Hands Dirty" - Part II

U.S.S. Miranda

Featuring:

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic

A bunch of random NPC's who will mostly die the old "Red Shirt" Death :-P

Timeline: The beginning of the Second Battle of Romulus

Somewhere near Engineering

The duo felt the ship shudder yet again, and had to brace themselves against the bulkhead.

"Were we hit," asked Crewman Apprentice Arelis Moreno, the apprehension showing in her light latin accent.

"No," Max replied coolly. "That was the main cannon firing. The shudder will be much more violent if we get hit. Just keep your bearings and try not to get hurt. Watch your surroundings."

Moreno nodded her understanding. They continued along the cooridor until Max signaled for them to stop.

"We'll post here until we start hearing damage reports or injury reports. You should go review your treatment modalities while we wait, although time may be short on that being that the fight already started."

Moreno simply nodded and remained silent for a moment. Then she turned to Max, a question obviously on her mind.

"What about green tags, you never got to that part?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Max, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "They're the walking wounded. You know, bumps bruises, nothing major that needs treatment in Sickbay or the Medical Intake sites. In fact, we recruit them to help us out with basic first aid and such. They're great because they can actually help each other and pretty much free us up for the more seriously injured."

Moreno nodded in understanding. Then had another question: "You've been doing this for a long time, I guess?"

Max gave a full smile and nodded.

"For a little over 10 years now. Was a street medic back on earth in New York, did time on a freighter, and was on a Medical Ship for a bit, too. I have to say they were all great experiences in their own right, but nothing like here...well maybe the Frieghter I was on comes close. We've been in combat zones a few times, treating indigenous peoples as best we could, even though my Xenobiology isn't as good as it should be."

Max could see that he was making an impression on this young woman. He hoped that things didn't go awry so that he could maybe take her under his wing and bring her along in her medical studies.

Moreno was about 5'8", her obviously thick long hair tied in a tight bun. She had caramel skin and almond eyes. In some deep corner of himself, Max allowed a small bit of attraction to this woman, but immediately reminded himself that right now was not the time for such thoughts, and besides, she was too young for him anyway.

He chided himself for the negative thought, but felt it was best to keep it professional and banished the entire idea altogether.

They heard the pulses of quantum torpedoes firing and both knew it was about to get thick really soon. Max decided to get out of the corridor and into one of the chambers. They found a utility room a few paces from where they were standing. Only a few crewman were inside who only took passing notice to their presence (or intrusion depending on who was looking).

"I figured if any group needed to run the corridors, we wouldn't be in the way here, and there doesn't seem to be much going on here-" This brought a sharp disapproving glance from one of the diagnostic techs in the room. "I'm going to check in with Ayers and see that he hasn't fallen into a Jeffries Tube or something." This brought a giggle out of Moreno, which Max also thought was cute.

The medic tapped his combadge and called to Ayers.

"Ayers here," was the slightly annoyed response.

"What's your position," asked Max, ignoring it.

"We're in the Saucer section, forward section. Figured we'd have the best access up here in case shit starts happening."

More like the best view, thought Max derisively. "Ok, keep frosty up there and be ready to move."

"Yeah. Ayers, out."

I'm really gonna have a sit down with that guy. I know I'm letting him get under my skin, but I'm not going to have that shitty attitude when he's working with me.

Filing the thought for later action, Max was about to say somethng when he was knocked off of his feet. He scrambled up to find Moreno bracing herself against a panel. Looking around the room, he saw the various techs and crewman were in various (and somewhat comical) states of disarray, but no one seriously injured.

"Okay, we're up. Max to Damage Control Coordination, standing by for injury reports and location deployment..."

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Stage One

The Underground "Hospital"
ch'Rihan

Pain. It tore at every corner of his body, lancing through his limbs. It stabbed at his eyes. It held him in place, the force of it greater than anything he could possibly endure.

He tried to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a weak moan.

"Doctor. Doctor!" A voice, shrill and high-pitched, cut through the fog of his thoughts.

"What is it?"

"Doctor, he's coming around!"

More voices assaulted him from all directions. He tried to scream again, the sound dying in his throat with a gurgle. Hands pressed at his body, holding him against the table on which he lay. He could feel the surface with his own hands: cool, smooth, sturdy. Where was this place?

"Wh...fff..." Speech failed him once more and he groaned incoherently.

"Keep him steady..." The voice was deep, obviously male, and sounded calm. He could make out a vague humanoid shape in the fog, but not enough to identify the man. "Nurse, hand me that hypospray."

His body tensed. Was he in a hospital? Was he a prisoner of war? Was he going to die; or worse yet, was he already dead? Was this disjointed cacophony of voices to be his only companion for all eternity? He groaned once more, trying in vain to struggle against his captors.

"Release him." A woman's voice this time. The words were delivered in a smooth, perfectly accented contralto that radiated calm and confidence.

"I cannot," he heard the doctor begin.

"It is not a request, doctor."

Recognition cut through his thoughts suddenly, the familiarity of the voice finally coming to him. He could hear the doctor and his aides grumbling their protest as he continued to struggle against them. After several moments he felt the hands release him, and heard the doctor's voice once more.

"Watch him closely, Arrain."

"You need not worry, doctor," the smooth contralto replied. "I would give my life for his."

"Very well. I will hold you to that." The sharp sound of footsteps on stone receded soon after, fading into the background.

"Ar...Arrain," he breathed, the simple sounds taking so much out of him.

"Sir. I'm here, sir." A hand touched his shoulder, gently this time, reassuring.

His eyelids fluttered weakly, bright light stabbing his pupils as he struggled to focus. Another figure appeared in the fog, one which he recognized immediately. Squinting, he blinked several times, allowing his vision to slowly focus on his companion. The long, narrow face and high cheekbones instantly classified her as a member of the Rihannsu elite. Long, jet black hair swept to one side cast half her face in shadow-- the side she always hid from view, he remembered.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand from the table, reaching for the flawed face that suddenly seemed to him like the most beautiful face in the galaxy. "Arrain...t'Rehu..." he whispered hoarsely. "Wh...how are we..."

"You should drink some water, sir," she replied, a hint of alarm dancing across her caramel brown eyes before her Rihannsu discipline took over, concealing the aberrant emotion. He felt her hand leave his shoulder and she stepped away from him, only to return holding a small silverish cup. Shifting it to one hand she slipped her other hand behind his head, lifting him up slightly so that he could drink.

He grabbed at the cup, uncoordinated fingers almost dropping it, but with her help he was able to get it to his mouth. Smooth, cold liquid slid down his throat, revitalizing him in ways he never thought possible. He swallowed again, gulping greedily at the water, his overwhelming thirst taking over.

"Not so fast," she admonished, gently pulling the cup from his lips and setting it aside. "You'll get sick."

He coughed, a bit of moisture sputtering from his mouth. Licking his lips to savor the cool taste he looked up at her once more. "Where are we? How are we here? The last I remember was..."

"The fire," she finished for him, gently lowering his head back to the table and taking a step back. "We collided with two Hydran ships, causing a cascading series of explosions. The impact didn't destroy us immediately."

She paused, her voice dropping to barely a whisper as her composure fell away, revealing the raw emotions underneath. Memories of another fire surfaced briefly, a fire from long ago, a fire that had taken many of her crewmates and left her permanently scarred over much of her body. "Riov t'Kalderak died instantly, as did erei'Arrain tr'Lhoell. Arrain t'Tei and yourself were thrown backwards into my console. I thought you were also dead, so I assumed command, ordered the crew to abandon ship, and carried you both into one of the escape pods."

"t'Tei was dead before we landed on the surface. I tried to pull you out of the wreckage, sir, but..." Her voice caught in her throat and she turned away, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Arrain..." He reached out, laying a hand on her arm. "Nuhir."

Stunned by his use of her first name she looked back at him, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to stop them but the Starfleet doctors are so different from our own and they wouldn't...they couldn't..."

"What happened?" he demanded, his heart beginning to thud in his chest as nervousness took over. "Tell me."

"It's...it's your legs, sir. You were trapped and the men that found us...had to..."

"No," he breathed, the inevitable revelation knocking into his chest with the force of a wrecking ball. "It can't...show me...you have to..." He grabbed at her arm, trying to pull himself up. She responded instantly, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders and carefully pulling him into a sitting position, using her own body to support his weight.

He was covered from waist down in a faded brown wool blanket, but the outlines of his legs were clearly visible beneath the heavy fabric. "No, it can't..." he sputtered, tugging at the blanket until it fell away from his body, sliding into a pile on the floor.

A low moan escaped his lips as he took in the sight of his ruined body. His trousers, which he always kept obsessively clean and pressed, were torn roughly off at mid-thigh and splattered with a dark green that was very obviously his own dried blood. His legs were wrapped completely in white gauze from that point down, flecked with more green blood, and ended far sooner than they should have.

"No. No..." he repeated his denials, trying to move the shortened appendages. "But I can still feel them...how..." His left leg twitched erratically with the effort, the knee joint bending just far enough for the short stump below to thump loudly against the table. "I can still..."

Tears began to fill his eyes and he sobbed wildly, tugging at her arm, his fingers digging painfully into bruised flesh as he gave himself over to his emotions. He barely noticed when she shifted under his weight, moving to cradle him in her arms as a mother would do to a wounded child. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he could hear her repeating quietly as she held him steady.

Soon after, exhaustion claimed him and he drifted once more into unconsciousness.

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Stage Two

Auxiliary Repair Bay
Deck 51, USS Miranda

"Gods damned Hydrans!" Ilithyia shouted, the sound of her voice echoing through the empty repair bay. She looked up at the high ceiling in disgust. "And gods damned politicians!"

The Deltan woman plopped heavily onto a nearby storage crate, folding her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. She slumped forward, fixing her angry gaze onto the floor.

Thw whole mess had begun with those stupid politicians, the ones who had decreed from on high that a pitifully small contingent of Starfleet ships would be sent to help the Romulans with their Hydran problem.

They had been vastly outnumbered, of course. People had died in droves, ships were lost, fighters were lost.

Rogue One had been lost.

Rogue One. *Her* Rogue One.

Ilithyia had poured her life and soul into that craft, turning a hodgepodge group of repair technicians and support staff into a well-oiled machine that kept Rogue One running in perfect form. Better than perfect, actually.

And then that bitch of an Andorian had to go and get herself shot down over Romulus. Probably got herself killed, too. Served her right for destroying such a beautiful piece of work.

And leaving her with that damned cat.

"This wasn't what I signed up for," Ilithyia muttered to herself, burying her face in her hands. "Gods, just get me out of this mess. I'll go home. I promise. I won't re-up, I'll just take my discharge papers and go home."

She sighed, leaning back, looking up at the ceiling once more. "Oh, and bring mel Thora home so I can give her back her cat. Please."

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Stage Four
XO's Office
Deck 8, USS Galaxy

"Computer, begin recording log.

"First Officer's log, stardate 60611.8.

"Repairs are progressing well. Engineering reports that shields are at ninety five percent efficiency; the most badly damaged shield generators still need additional repair to bring that number to one hundred percent. Life support has been restored in all sections, and all hull breaches have been repaired. Phasers will be one hundred percent operational by end of Beta shift.

"Tactical continues to analyze data obtained from the battle. Lieutenant Commander Todd tells me that much...has been learned...

"Oh, *hell*." Iniara sighed heavily.

"Computer, end recording and delete."

Leaning forward in her chair, Iniara propped both elbows on the glassy surface of her desk, resting her chin in her hands. After a long pause she groaned, leaned back and wiped a hand across her face, then let both arms drop limply to her sides. The chair reclined with her weight, slowly angling backwards until it stopped. She blinked a few times, eyes coming into focus with a spot on the opposite wall, concentrating on the molding between wall and ceiling as if it was suddenly the most significant thing in the galaxy.

"Damnit. Computer, begin personal log."

Another sigh. "This is the personal log of Tarin Iniara. Stardate 60611.8.

"It's been a while since I made a personal log entry. Nearly three weeks in fact; I don't know exactly how long, but this is my first personal log since the battle.

"The battle." A short pause.

"Prophets, I can't keep holding all this in." Another pause, this one slightly longer.

"I don't know why I'm here. Honestly. There's a part of me that goes on duty, does the work, day after day, because that's what I'm trained to do. But there's this part of me that just can't accept what's happening here.

"Is this what depression feels like? Or despair? Or is my need to whine about things I can't change suddenly getting out of control? Hell if I know. I may be half Betazoid, but I am definitely not a counselor. Never was good at that mind crap.

"I should have stayed on Bajor. No...I should have stayed on Betazed, gone to university like a good little daughter of the Seventh House, and made my family proud. Maybe get married, start a family, join the Medara Philharmonic....you know, whatever. Stick to the path that was laid out before me. At least I was good at something then.

"Prophets, it seems so long ago. When did I get so old?

"Damnit, Iniara. Damnit damnit damnit. There's no sense in talking about that life like it's ever going to happen. You're never going to fall in love again, never going to get married, never going to have children. OK?"

Another pause, this one nearly half a minute in length.

"OK. My place is here, on this ship. I am beholden to this crew. My crew. It is my duty to stand for them. To die for them, if it comes to that. I sent enough of them to their deaths with my mistakes; I should be willing to return the favor.

"Damnit. I'm still not sure I belong here, though. I should talk to a counselor."

A final short pause. "Hah. Right. I've rambled on long enough. Computer, end log...and save to private folder."

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Stage Five
Enlisted Barracks
Deck 36, USS Miranda

Time is a strange thing.

Of course, the Tall Ones don't think we can sense or measure time, but we can. How little they give us credit for.

It has been some time since I last saw my mother, or my brothers, or my sisters. I cannot say how long in concrete terms, because we measure time differently. But it has been so long since I saw my mother, or my brothers, or my sisters, that when I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I can hardly smell their scents.

Time to us is a great water. When the great water washes smells away, when it covers the old smells with the new smells, we know that time has passed.

When I left my family so long ago, it was the Blue One that became my caretaker. The Tall One that was my mother's caretaker called the Blue One "Amoor-meaw". Amoor-meaw was very tall, taller than most of the Tall Ones I had seen. Amoor-meaw did not smell like male, or female, so I could not classify it. The only reason I remember it so distinctly is because its smell has not been long gone from me.

It put me in a box with walls I could see through, and took me to a different place. Before I could fully appreciate the smells of the different place, I was given over to a Pale One that Amoor-meaw called "Don-an", and who clearly smelled like a male. Amoor-meaw told Don-an that I was "Ba-ku". I tried to inform them that my name sounded nothing like "Ba-ku", but clearly they did not understand my words. I gave up trying to communicate with them after they bared their teeth at me, which I took to be a gesture of hostility. I have since come to learn that such a gesture has a vastly different meaning to the Tall Ones, but at that time I was young and cowardly and their unusual expressions frightened me.

I spent much time with Don-an in his territory, and he seemed content to share the area with me. Over time I grew to know all the dark spots in this place, and replaced all his smells with my own. Amoor-meaw would appear sometimes. I assumed this pleased Don-an, as he was always baring his teeth at me just before Amoor-meaw arrived.

One day, as I was busying myself with some small tubes of cloth I had found, the whole world shook. Terrible noises came from above and I hid in the darkest spot I could find, fearful that my time had come. It could have been a short time or the longest eternity by the Tall Ones' measuring, but the shaking did stop.

After that, I never saw Don-an again.

Amoor-meaw took me away then, to the place it had taken me before. I soon realized this was its territory. It was much smaller than Don-an's, and it shared the space with a Tall One (Giant One is probably more appropriate here, as he is the largest Tall One I have ever seen) with shiny green skin and who it called "Urrawn-dek". Urrawn-dek gave off almost no smell that I could identify.

Sharing their much smaller territory, I soon came to realize that Amoor-meaw and Urrawn-dek must be members of a servant class. I could smell neither male nor female on them; they were no doubt members of a class that did not reproduce and only existed to serve the ruling classes, the ones like Don-an who could in fact reproduce. Though, despite their lower social standing I had no complaints regarding my care while I shared their area. I may even have begun to enjoy their company.

Unfortunately, they have since left. Their departure coincided with another incident of the trembling ground and the terrible screaming noises. This time it was so bad that I was at one point knocked from my hiding spot below Amoor-meaw's sleeping platform and into the clear wall that separated its territory from the dark place beyond.

It hurt. It hurt like nothing I have ever felt before, and I cried. I cried for a long time, hoping that someone would find me and help me. But Amoor-meaw and Urrawn-dek never returned.

By the time I was found by a Tall One, the pain had subsided. My throat was so dry and my stomach so empty that I could hardly introduce myself to the Hairless One that found me. She took me away to an even smaller territory that she apparently shared with three other Tall Ones, two of them Pale Ones like what Don-an had been. I found this strange because the Hairless One (who introduced herself at one point as "Elee-ye-ah") smelled very female, and the remaining three Tall Ones were also obviously female. Here was a pack of four fertile females, sharing a territory smaller than that which belonged to Amoor-meaw and Urrawn-dek. Perhaps the structure of the Tall Ones' society places the males in luxury, while the females are simply breeding stock?

Yet none of them seem to have mates. I am not sure what to make of this arrangement.

At first I could not help but rebel against Elee-ye-ah and her pack. I tried to inquire as to the location of Amoor-meaw and Urrawn-dek, and I once asked Elee-ye-ah to return me to their care (a somewhat rude gesture which I regrettably found necessary at the time) but Elee-ye-ah also did not understand my language. When I tired of that I simply hid, content to appear only when food was prepared for me.

Some time has passed. I know it has not been long because I can still remember the smell of Amoor-meaw, and the sudden absence of smells will trigger a memory of Urrawn-dek. While I miss them, I know somehow that they will never return, that Don-an too will never return. I have accepted this. It saddens me, but I have accepted it. Now I must move on.

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Final Stage
Saber Squadron Locker Room
Deck 39, USS Galaxy

The room was quiet, almost eerily so. Considering the barely controlled chaos that was taking place just down the hall in the main Fighter Bay, Aristi found it quite odd that the squadron's locker room could be so silent. Then again, having been a member of Saber Squadron for just over a day, she hadn't yet learned the distinction (or the lack thereof) between 'controlled chaos', 'big problems', 'complete insanity', and 'just an ordinary day'.

It had taken her three weeks to fully realize that this was where she truly belonged. Aristi was one of those rare people who could truthfully say they loved their job and couldn't imagine being anywhere else. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she had always wondered if she should have chosen a slightly different path.

It had taken her three weeks and the death of a friend for her to realize that upstairs at the helm of a starship she was decently useful, but down here, strapped into a fighter, she could truly make a difference.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Anna Lewis, Vanguard Squadron pilot and one of Aristi's best friends aboard Galaxy, had lost her life in the skies above Romulus. And it had taken Aristi three weeks of hell to get over that loss. She'd spent the better part of six days in denial, unable to accept the fact that Anna's fighter had been destroyed, and that she hadn't just been shot down and was somewhere down on the planet waiting for a rescue. Her denial had turned to anger then, and she'd been utterly unapproachable for two full days. Looking back, it was a miracle Lieutenant Darkstar hadn't reprimanded her for insubordination, conduct unbecoming an officer, or just a plain bitchy attitude.

After that she had begun to pray. Praying to the God of her adoptive parents, and to the spirits of her Cardassian ancestors. And had any of them mysteriously responded to her pleas, she would have been prepared to bargain away her soul for a chance at revenge. When nothing had changed she had sunk into a fit of depression, spending all her time off duty in her quarters. Then finally, one day, she awoke with a new sense of purpose. She accepted the loss of her friend, accepted the fact that they were facing nearly unsurmountable odds in this conflict, and accepted the fact that finally, she knew what she had to do with her life.

Major Rex had been a bit reluctant to satisfy her request to transfer to the SFFC. But when she had satisfied his own request-- namely, to take and pass the Level 9 pilot's exam on the spot-- he had been a bit more accomodating. Without much fanfare he'd assigned her to Saber Squadron and then sent her to the Quartermaster to get some gear.

And now less than a day later here she was, sitting in the quietest room on Deck 39 in the midst of the controlled chaos. She hadn't yet learned that 'controlled chaos' was nothing more than a synonym for 'just an ordinary day'. But, as she pulled on her brand new pair of bulky pilots' boots and closed up the fasteners on her dove grey flight jacket, she knew that someday she would. This was her home now.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Two

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Leonora inclined her head as she watched her Captain. Her heart went out to him. He was exhausted, pushing himself past his tolerance limits in attempt to secure all their safety. She understood how alone he felt, for she felt it too. Watching him day and night for the past few weeks, unbound, unrelenting in his task to try to win this war all by himself, to save as many lives as possible, she had seen this coming from way back then. She respected her Captain, yet somehow she knew it would come to this.

He was good man and a good leader. Yet in the last few weeks she had seen the fire in his heart die. She had watched all traces of hope burn out from his eyes, like the energy from his body it dwindled. She was used to him asking her advice, back up on the ship he would utilize her, but here he had turned into a dictator making every decision, piling more and more weight onto his own shoulders.

He had lost his way in the darkness, forgotten those that were here to support him, to aid him in making those tough decisions. What was more heart wrenching for Leonora was that she knew he took it upon himself to make those choices, for he did not wish her or anyone else for that matter, to be subjected to the purgatory of knowing that you sent a man, or in this case a whole platoon of men, to die.

In essence he suffered to save not only her life but her soul too. Slowly she stepped forward until she was standing behind him. Placing her hand on his shoulder she was silently amazed when he did not shrug her away. Her jaw dropped when he placed his own hand around hers and squeezed it. A soft smile crossed her blue lips as she stood behind his weeping form, finally she felt of worth to him, even if it was only this gesture in the darkness.

His body jerked as his grief came to him in waves, yet she couldn't think of anything else to do. No words would be able to comfort him; nothing could console a Captain that had lost half of his men. She felt their loss too, yet it was different for her. They were her comrades in arms, she did not have the responsibility and ultimately the accountability that Rogers had. Looking up she stared at the dirt ceiling, feeling her eyes stinging as tears welled. ~When would this war end? When can we go home?~ She questioned the heavens beyond the mud, grit and soil.

Above that dirt ceiling suspended with felled logs, the wind picked up rustling the leaves on the trees, their branches swayed wildly as the clouds rolled through the sky like a dark knight on a demonic steed.

Soldiers were spread out around the simple bunker, dug in foxholes, protected by sensor sheaths. Sharing blankets, they huddled as close together as their manhood and sexual harassment laws would permit. What rations were available were shared, along with bad jokes, told softly as they waited for the word.

In the light of Romulus' twin planet, that could be said, served as a moon, K'ymri took up his position. He had a rather rude awakening a few minutes previous when TC had returned from his latest mission. Tin Can took perverse pleasure in kicking the Caitian awake, although this time K'ymri had also received a rifle butt to the head, followed by the boot combined with a long sentence; which the universal translator had serious trouble recreating in his native tongue. K'ymri there for assumed that whatever the Private had to say it was not of any importance, just like most things that spilled from TC's mouth.

Stretching out in the twilight he yawned, his sharp fangs reflecting the soft lighting. Four hours on, four hours broken sleep; took its toll on the young officer. Begrudgingly he retrieved the binoculars from the spot the previous Private had left them and brought up them up to his eyes. The rims were cold, having been resting there for some time. Lucky for him his skin was covered in soft warm fur, so the cold didn't bother him as much as it did the rest of them.

Looking up at the dark sky his ears flattened against his head, the grayness of the clouds could only be noticed when the occasional explosion in the distance, the bright actinic bursts of energy from a weapon emplacement or bomb, lit up the sky for a fraction. He found it uncanny that the rumors of everything here being predominantly grey were true. His mind flittered back to the fallen Romulan soldiers he had seen eight hours previously. Their skin, their clothes, the building they created; all of them, stony grey. He wondered who else was out there, looking up at that same sky, fighting the same fight tonight.

Descending from the bunker secluded in the hills on the outskirts of Ki Baratan, the clouds cast creepy shadows as they moved along the land and down into the valley below. The wind grew damp as the clouds darkened just that little bit more, threatening a downpour to add to the grimness.

Hawkins shifted his gaze back to the ground before him and away from the dark swirling masses above. "Looks like a storm is brewing." he murmured faintly as he settled himself into a crouching position in a crater behind a low wall.

He had been lucky enough to spend the last few nights in the Romulan mansion; it had been nice to sleep in something other than dirt clad rags that everyone else had sweated in. Although part of him felt guilty for having that opportunity, when so many others had to sleep in the sewers or out here under the stars. It was in that mansion that he had come across Lieutenant Jonas, and from that meeting found himself here, at two am in the freezing early morning mist of the city.

Curling his arms around his rifle, pulling it into him almost hugging it for warmth, he perched and waited for Jonas to give the signal, feeling the rising damp infiltrate the fibers of his clothing, chilling him to the core.

Steven watched through his night vision goggles as the men and women that had volunteered got into position. Reports had a whole platoon of Hydrans heading their way, and with the weapons, ammo and grenades that the re-armament had given them, they were keen to take out as many of the tripods as possible. Giving the sergeant the signal to keep hidden, Steven climbed the rubble to take a peek at the oncoming soldiers.

Having seen the Hydrans up close on the Hydran ship and then that big brute a couple of weeks before, Steven knew just how ugly they looked. Seeing a whole platoon of them marching towards their location sent a chill down his spine, one which only eased at the thought that every one of those fuckers were going to die today.

Crawling back down, he signaled to the men to stay hidden until they were all in view.

Reaching his spot, he looked at the marine next to him and smiled. "Like lambs to the slaughter."

Pierre moved slowly through the tall rubble, working to get himself into the perfect position for when the attack began. He was low, crawling through the broken building to get to the blown out wall that looked down on where he could hear the Hydrans moving through. The group had grabbed him up out of his last observation position for this little mission to keep the Hydrans away from the tunnel systems.

The building he was in was tall, over looking the whole street below. He had found no one in the building as he had made his way through it. It was rather.... creepy. He was under orders to hold his fire until the main group fired first. No need to startle the enemy before they could get as much fire on them as possible. Comm. traffic was a no-go, as usual, so Pierre had to wait patiently as he got to his spot. A nice chunk of the wall had been taken out, leaving him the perfect spot to pick off the little bastards from.

He moved to sit with one knee propped up and the other leg cross-legged under him to give him a good steady firing spot away from the dim light that streamed in through the hole. Back in the shadows, no one would be able to see him from the street. Pierre thumbed a few controls on the side of his rifle and his monocular over his right eye and zoomed in on the enemy formation. He rested his cheek on the stock of the rifle, steadying his eyes so he could aim better. It was like having the best scope in the galaxy strapped to his eye.

Corporal Basset waited patiently, moving the cross-hairs over target after target, picking out his first kill.

Steven waited as they were in the designated kill zone and signaled for the grenades to be thrown. Watching as a dozen or so were lobbed over to the Hydrans, he thought of how many were about to meet their maker. As the grenades went off, sending Hydrans, those that survived the blasts, scattering, Steven rose up and began firing on them. It didn't matter that they might be dying, or if they weren't even soldiers. They were Hydrans, and on Romulan soil. That was enough.

Spotting a couple trying to flee to one side, Steven fired at them, scoring a hit to the chest of one, while the other seemingly brushed off any wounds and took off.

Basset saw the large flares from the grenades flash brilliantly and knew that was definitely a sign. The target he had been aiming at was currently tumbling through the air in several pieces at the moment. Pierre moved the rifle quickly to the next one that was skittering for cover behind some rubble. He grinned wickedly as he squeezed the trigger. The custom rifle unleashed a whisper, a quiet sizzle, as a dart sized streak of light lanced away from the emitter assembly. Even with the tiny manifestation of energy, the phaser rifle still had just as much punch as a compression phaser rifle. Pierre watched the Hydran atomize into nothingness and quickly moved to the next target, tracking a running tripod as it moved through his field of vision.

"The Five Stages"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO, USS Galaxy
Major Amuramia mel Thora, Rogue Leader, USS Miranda
Pilot Aristi Ferguson, Saber Squadron, USS Galaxy
erei'Riov Colius tr'Vrentath, XO, IRV D'Decius
Arrain Nuhir t'Rehu, Ops Chief, IRV D'Decius
Sergeant Ilithyia, Rogue One Crew Chief, USS Miranda

and introducing Baku the cat

Stage Three
Resistance Camp
ch'Rihan

Mia stared deep into the bowl she held before her. In the darkness of the underground city, she couldn't see much. At least she could be grateful for that.

Spooning another mouthful of the viscous substance into her mouth (she wasn't sure it could properly be called food), Mia squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to swallow. The smell alone was enough to make her gag, and the taste wasn't much better. But when the food finally reached her stomach and her body began to digest it, that's when the real problem would begin.

There was just something about Rihannsu food that didn't agree with her system. It made her violently ill for at least an hour after each meal, but at least it was nourishment. It was better than starving to death.

As someone who had gone up against hundreds of hostiles and still lived to tell the tale, Mia mel Thora never dreamed that her ultimate demise would be brought about by food.

Groaning, the Andorian shen pushed another spoonful of food into her mouth and swallowed. A wave of nausea passed over her almost immediately. She doubled over and clutched feebly at her stomach, willing herself to keep the food down, the metal bowl slipping out of her hands and clattering noisily to the ground between her feet.

After several seconds the feeling passed enough that she could sit up properly. Looking down at the bowl, Mia noticed that it when it had landed, most of its contents had been spattered all over her boots and pants. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she attempted to scrape the mess off with the edge of the bowl. She gave up soon after and dropped the bowl to the ground again, then sighed quietly.

"Guardians," she began, her voice quiet in the empty cave. "If you are testing me, I am quite impressed."

She paused, eyes focusing on her hands, examining them in the darkness. The skin hung loosely from her bones, and in the darkness the shadows were even deeper, making the digits appear abnormally thin, almost emaciated. She brushed a hand across her cheek, suddenly realizing that she hadn't seen her own reflection in weeks. If her hands looked this bad, what must her face look like?

Letting her hand drop, Mia contemplated the ground once more. When she spoke again her voice was even quieter, a touch of melancholy coloring her words. "I want to go home. I don't want to die down here, hungry and alone. I want to live, to breathe free air, to smell the challorn flowers of my home, to see the Andorian sunrise..."

She lifted her gaze to the cave's low, uneven roof. "Guardians, I am not yet Whole. Your humble servant requests that she be allowed to correct this before you call her home. Hear my tiny voice, I beg of you."

But what if they didn't? Or worse yet, what if they heard yet chose to ignore her plea? What if she never made it off this planet, what if she was now condemned to die along with all the people who had once called this place home?

At least she would die a warrior's death, fighting for her life, for her beliefs, on this ruined planet with the artificial purple sky.

But no matter what, she would still die alone.

"Break the Sword of Justice" -- pt. 1

(brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Gwen Parri, Acting Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant John Barrett, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant J.G. Rico Gear, Asst. Chief Security Officer
Ensign David Walker, Chief Navigation Officer
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Asst. Chief Engineer
Ensign Bliss Hawkins, Tactical Officer

Captain Elessidil stepped onto the bridge -- his bridge -- with all the confidence and strength of character he could muster. Everyone had a part to play in the battle which was soon to begin and despite his personal concerns, his was to lead.

And lead he would.

"Lieutenant Barrett," he said via comm to the Exeter's chief engineer, "you and the rest of your department have done an amazing job getting this bridge functional again. Rest assured your efforts have been noted."

::Thank you, Sir,:: the obviously appreciative young officer replied.

::We're ready to go down here.::

"Ensign Walker, what's our position?"

"We're coming at them fast and hard, Captain, just like Admiral Murdock planned," replied David Walker from the helm. He kept his eyes focused intently on the viewscreen and his console, almost feeling the Exeter's engines rumble as they propelled them toward the Hydrans.

"Sickbay, what's your status?" Brian asked of the one department he hoped he would need as little as possible.

"Everything is functional Sir. And medical personnel is ready." Gwen's confident voice came over the system. She prayed casualties would be light.

But her people were ready to deal with anything.

Marcus stepped onto the Exeter's bridge and went over to the bridge's engineering and damage control station and keyed it up before opening a channel, "Lieutenant, I'm at the engineering station here on the bridge..the spectrum is green, sir," said the acting assistant chief of engineering as he sat down at the station.

Rico flexed his forearm as he sat at one of the bridge stations. The vein popped up and then went away with with of his fist. There wasn't much he could do here... just wait. "Captain, security is on standby, some teams are concentrated near sick bay and the shuttle docks ready to deal with wounded and should we need it we are aligned on all routes to the escape pods". He glanced up at the ship schematic momentarily before switching back to his arm. He could get a needle in there, easy.

As Brian received readiness reports from the various departments, Lieutenant Mullen entered the bridge. He said nothing as he took his seat, though Elessidil felt his presence immediately. It would remain to be seen if he'd made that attitude adjustment Brian had requested.

A pair of eyes were fixed on the Lieutenant's back. Even though he didn't have a shred of telepathy, Mullen turned around to face the source of discomfort.

He met the icy gaze of Lieutenant Bental. He got full reports from Ensign Sfamnun about the Lieutenant's training sessions. It was pretty obvious that Elessidil confided with this man, which didn't make Mullen like him a hell of a lot more.

The Tactical chief smirked mischievously at the executive officer - the kind of smug smile which many intelligence officers had, which literally meant 'I know more than you, buddy'. Then, he looked down at his console.

"Message from Admiral Murdock... patching through." Saul said.

The Fleet Admiral's voice came next. "All ships, this is Admiral Murdock." he began. "Disable those ships while they're defenseless.

All fighters concentrate on disabling Hydran launch bays. Don't kill unless ye have to. All ships, weapons free. Fire at will."

"Exeter's long range weapons are armed and ready, Captain." Saul stated as the Admiral's voice faded. He watched Walker's back as he waited for the Captain's next order.

He was ready.

"Red alert," Mullen ordered.

Elessidil took a deep breath on behalf of the entire crew. "Okay everyone, it's time to do this again. This time, let's make sure they're the ones retreating from the system."

"Break the Sword of Justice" -- pt. 2

(brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Gwen Parri, Acting Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant John Barrett, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant J.G. Rico Gear, Asst. Chief Security Officer
Ensign David Walker, Chief Navigation Officer
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Asst. Chief Engineer
Ensign Bliss Hawkins, Tactical Officer

Rico spun on his seat and watched the senior staff about him. If there was excitement to be had it was here on the bridge. He glanced at the many faces, some familiar others not so much but all had one thing in common, their faces glistened with sweat. Had his job been anything but uneventful maybe he would be sweating too. He put an elbow on the console and a number of beeps spat at him. He quickly removed it before anyone noticed.

There was something decidedly un- counselor- and even un- Betazoid-like in the feeling Brian had toward this battle. The first encounter with the Hydrans had been a necessary evil, one that he had secretly hoped would somehow be avoided.

This time however, it was personal.

The losses the Exeter sustained and the personal toll they took on everyone aboard left a taste for revenge in everyone's souls.

Counselor Elessidil would have worked to defuse that reaction.

Captain Elessidil shared it.

The only silver lining from that first battle was that they had learned some things about their own vulnerabilities and how the Hydrans would exploit them. Some advance planning and preparation and the hard work and expertise of the crew would make sure things didn't play out the same way this time.

Marcus let a snarl of triumph cross his face as the augmented strategic shield reinforcements are in place snapped online that helped to prevent the power relays from being fried because he refused to crawl all over the place again to replace them. "Captain, the strat-shield reinforcements are in place and holding steady, but I'm keeping an eye on them at any rate and the moment that they start to flicker, I'll start the bypass the next second." Marcus shouted over the din at the Brevet-Captain.

"Excellent, Ensign," Brian responded. "Fool us once, shame on you; fool us twice, shame on us," he muttered, applying the ancient aphorism toward the Hydrans and their unexpected knowledge of the weak points of an Ambassador class starship. "Mister Walker, take us around the left flank of Hydran carrier group. Mister Bental, take out every fighter bay you can before the Hydran fleet gets mobilized again and they start to launch."

"Yes Captain," Saul replied, perhaps a little too formally. Earlier that day, he contemplated on ways to establish 'Captain Brian''s leadership, and referring to him by his title was one of the methods he came up with.

"Left flank, Captain, aye," David answered easily, his fingers flying over the helm controls as he input the coordinates and sent the Exeter streaming toward the Hydran carrier group. He was already memorizing the carriers' positions and mentally calculating several possible evasion routes should things get hairy.

Rico watched his console as the ship spun around and hurtled back towards the Hyrans. The Exeter was to the fore again after a quick drink of water. Sure Rico had his concerns; this was a makeshift crew, some here were battle hard yet many more were unseasoned. He himself, although at 27 hadn't the amount of experience one would think, yet he backed himself and he hoped the others had too.

"Nearest Hydran escort within weapons range in fifteen seconds," Saul informed coolly while quickly preparing a list of targets. Images of Hydran starship fuselages flickered on the tactical arch, each falling in place.

"We drew their attention - two wings of fighters are heading our way,"

he added.

How could he be so calm? If any of these fighters decide to play 'Commander Kol', and somehow evade the PD weapons, he'll be dead for all eternities. How could he speak so clearly as though he was playing some sort of slow simulation game?

Saul simply shook his head. PD was Bliss' problem, and he hoped she knew her stuff.

As if on cue, Ensign Bliss Hawkins spoke up. She shot the tactical chief a grin as she flexed her fingers over the PD controls. The responsibility for keeping the fighters off Exeter's back was hers, and she was ready for it. The PD phasers and ECCM were ready to follow her commands.

"Point defense on line...weapons are free."

David's eyes shifted slightly, taking in the positions of the incoming Hydran fighters. He was already plotting several maneuvers based on their formations and on what he knew about Hydran fighter tactics, each designed to offer Bliss and the point defense weapons as many opportune shots as possible while offering the Exeter's weak points protection from the fighters' heavy weaponry. He held off on deploying them, however, awaiting orders from Captain Elessidil.

Everything was moving efficiently and Brian knew it was because of the people on this bridge and throughout the ship. Silently grateful, he gave the next order, confident things would go differently this time.

At least as confident as he could be.

"Ensign Hawkins, keep a defensive posture with the fighters; do what you have to do to protect our vulnerable spots. Mister Bental, Mister Walker, focus our offense and maneuvers toward the escorts, don't get distracted by the fighters. I'd rather deal with twenty fighters now than two hundred later."

"Saul, fire at will."

"Emergence of the true self"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG
USS GALAXY

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

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

Being released from her confines was so.....orgasmic. Faylin sat, nursing the coffee that she had retrieved with just a glance at a Marine and started humming to herself. Feeling the touch on her shoulder, she looked sideways and smiled. "Hey.....taking a break?"

Steven nodded. "I've got a few minutes before I need to get back out there. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. May I?" He indicated the seat next to her.

"Yeah...what's on your mind?"

Steeven took a seat and smiled. "Well, you know how I feel about you... and I wanted to ask if you wanted to move in together when we get back to the Galaxy?"

Faylin took a drink of her coffee before glancing over at him. "No."

Came the curt reply. Her mind started reeling with all sorts of excuses. She was not ready, that's the biggest deal. He was around her alot, even on the planet and Faylin felt her need to breath deeply being squashed. Her private things, would no longer be private.

Mementos of years before would be discarded, out of revelations of the complexity of a past relationship coming to light. She was not ready to give them up....they were a part of her still.

"Okay," Steven said quietly, "care to explain why you feel that way?"

"Look, Steven. You know how I feel about you. So, why isn't that good enough for right now?"

"It is. I just thought you might like to have someone around on a more permanent basis."

"It's been going at warp speed....let's slow it down..okay?" Which was the truth. She found herself not being true to her. She found herself being true to some one she didn't know....the old Faylin was battling the new Faylin.

"Yeah, sure." Steven looked at the wall, his eyes unfocused as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.

"You did nothing wrong." She saw his far off look, half of her wanted to comfort him, the other half wanted to tell him to grow up. "I'm just not in a good place right now to be committing to something so serious."

"Is it Olivia's death? Or do you just not see yourself growing old with someone like me?" It was one of those things that just happened, speaking before the brain could say 'don't say that you dickhead' and Steven regretted saying it as soon as he had said it.

"I don't see myself growing old with anyone Steven. It's just not in

my cards. And, as far as Olivia's death is concerned. Drop it. I

have a hard enough time dealing with it without every one's 'concern'"

She turned, finished her coffee and stood up. "See you later....I have things to attend to."

"Have a nice time." He replied. He shook his head softly at her retreating form. He never seemed to be able to understand woman.

He never had, and it seemed that he still didn't. He did realize that she had a lot on her plate, but the simple fact was that he loved her, and he thought she loved him. It wasn't like he was asking her to marry him, just try living together.

"Inner Demons" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering, USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

Steven didn't know if the Hydran hellbore had done any damage to the ship Dhani had aimed at, nor did he care as two Hydrans stormed the bridge. Why they'd only sent two was beyond Steven's comprehension, but raising his rifle, he took out the first with a well aimed headshot. The second required two shots to neutralize. As the body fell to the now littered floor, Steven turned to Dhani. "Can you set that to autofire? Cause they are likely to send a few more Hydrans at us at any minute."

Dhanishta's face was a picture of concentration, her eyes flittering from the main screen to the controls and then the data padd, back and forth in quick succession as she managed by the skin of her teeth to maneuver the ship, fire its hellbore canon and secondary weapons and actually use the targeting sensor; all at the same time! It was inevitable that her reply would be a little less than polite, "Do you think you can crawl up your own slimy ass and play the flute at the same time?!" she retorted, angered by the break in her concentration.

"You're the god dammed marine, this is your element! Give me something to fix over this any day, and hey you wanna swap? I sure as hell don't mind taking over trigger time. But between you and me I don't think your man enough to handle a stick!" she said flippantly as her fingers did a halting, hesitating dance over the controls. She was glad that she had a good eye for where things were. It was beginning to be guess work now, though she had found the main controls, the others were like a mystery bonus prize. For all she knew this one was a self destruct button… but what's life without a little risk hey?

He had pushed his anger, towards the engineer and her comments about him, to one side, and focusing on ensuring that they would survive the encounter. If and when they made it out alive, he'd let her take a swing at him as she seemed to want to do. Heck, he wanted to take a swing at himself for the stupid mistake. Waiting the few minutes she needed, he kept an eye on the door while simultaneously trying to recall where the nearest escape pods were located. Down the hall, then a left and another left, or was that a right?

"Woohoo!" Dhani exclaimed sitting back in the chair, "Look at that baby burn." She smiled at her accomplish. She had been quite arrogant in her planning for this mission, believing that the five of them could take on anything, believing that *she* could take on anything. Yet when they finally got to their destination and she looked at what she was dealing with she was shocked, her faith in her own abilities seriously wavered. It hadn't been easy to say the least. And for a while she thought that they really weren't gonna make it. Yet through determination and sheer pig headedness she had done it. And so she gave herself an almightily pat on the back and let her ego expand to fill the room, engineers really were miracle workers!

She could sense Jonas' eagerness to get the hell off this ship, what with all his pacing behind her, but Dhani was just getting started. A menacing smile crossed her lips as she spread out her fingers and brought them to rest on the panel below. "Just a few more." she said slowly.

Activating the targeting sensors again she took a moment to scan for the juiciest target. They couldn't let all this fire power go to waste now that they had control over it. They had to do more than just blow off one pot shot and hope it singed something important.

Nah, they really weren't going any time soon, besides Jonas' could use the work out.

Something sinister crept into the skin of the engineer. The shear amount of pleasure on her face as she fired shot after shot at the Hydran ships in orbit was astounding. Dhanishta wasn't a 'Hawk, she wasn't a 'Dove' either for that matter. Yet to look at her now, one would think that she was a gun crazy, psychopathic, demented cold hearted killer. And with each confirmed hit, her lust for blood grew…

Despite his eagerness to get the hell out of dodge, the thought of giving the Hydrans as much damage as possible gave him a buzz. So he ignored her comments, and watched the door, waiting for the Hydrans he knew would be coming as soon as the first hellbore shot hit the ship he and Dhani were on. And they would fire back, Steven had no doubt about that. It might take them a little time to warm up the hellbore, but they would eventually retaliate.

The one part of the plan, that they had not thought of, as far as Steven had seen was were they would go once they made it to an escape pod. The Klingon ship was long gone, the Fleet god, knows where, and shit-loads of Hydran vessels orbiting ch'Rihan. The planet was the likely destination, but Steven wondered just how many of the Marines and other Starfleet personnel were alive down there. Was Faylin alive? Bran? Lia and Tokka, Shade and Flatline? One could only hope that they were alive and fighting back.

The main visual screen flicked to life, showing a bridge similar to the one they were currently standing on. A burly Hydran, sat in the center chair, saying something that Steven, and if she had been paying attention, Dhani, didn't understand. Steven smiled and stepped in front on the Hammer's central chair, clearly showing himself to the smug Hydran. He raised his hand and gave the Hydran the bird. "Don't fuck with the Federation!" he said, not knowing if the Hydran would understand, before raising his rifle and shooting the screen, ending the connection to the other Hydran ship.

"We're gonna have company sooner than you think, Dhani." Steven said loudly. A moment later the first return salvo hit the Hammer of Absolution.

Dhanishta braced for the impact, holding on to the panel in front of her she gritted her teeth as the ship rocked and juddered, they were after all a sitting duck waiting for the preverbal truck to flatten them. Yet before she wiped off the tire marks she was gonna make sure that they were out of action for when the Federation returned, call it a 'welcome back' gift. Ya never know she might actually see that old captain of hers smile.

Bringing the ship round to face the onslaught from the carrier she grinned as she leveled the cannon, aimed at their bridge and let it rip. She looked up at the screen hoping to view the carnage, yet it was shattered. ~When did that happen?~ she questioned frowning. Shrugging her shoulders she looked back down at the readouts. She hadn't completely figured out what all the buttons did, nor had she become a wizard at reading Hydran in the last twenty minutes, but she had enough common sense to realize that the flashing writing across the display, coupled with the loud claxon that went off, most likely, if not defiantly, indicated that something major was wrong and it was probably time to leave.

After the third or fourth shot, Steven had had enough and walked over to Dhani. "We're leaving now!" he said. When she didn't respond, he placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her. "Did you hear me?"

She shrugged him off brusquely. There were still more of them out there. There was a whole god dammed armada out there! Yet Dhani felt compelled to quell it, to destroy them all. Leaving now would be like killing her comrades on the Galaxy, killing the people on the planet below. She couldn't let that happen. She had to do more damage; she had to wipe them all out. They deserved it after all.

Her demeanor changed swiftly; the amused look of pleasure fell from her face, replaced with a more urgent expression. This wasn't enough. They had to do more. Charging the weapons again she ignored the warning signs, ignored the claxon that wailed constantly, ignored the protests from Jonas, determined to continue.

He shook her shoulder trying to snap her attention away from the console. "We have to get out of here now!"

"NO!" Dhani shouted, only now registering his presence. "We are not going, not yet." she screamed at him turning her back to him she tried to focus on what she was doing.

Dhani was busy working her magic with the console, but Steven knew that they didn't have much time before the ship was destroyed. So he reached for her arm. He didn't want to cause her to do something she'd regret, but they had to get to the escape pods.

Dhani pulled her arm back again, her eyes darting to him for a second to give him a penetrating glare.

Forcefully, Steven wrapped his hand around her left arm, meaning to drag her away. She was obviously off in her own little world, not even aware of what was happening around her. What she did next was something Steven did not expect.

At first she tried to yank her arm back again, but he held on to her arm with a firm grip, his stubby fingernails digging into her skin, leaving indents. Completely aggravated Dhani lunged towards his arm; a low growl escaped from her throat as he bared her teeth and sunk them into the soft pink flesh.

"What the hell?" Steven shouted as the pain from her teeth biting into his flesh rippled up his arm. He yanked his hand away from the mad woman sending her tumbling.

The force at which he withdrew his hand caused Dhani to fall from the chair. She didn't have time to brace for the impact. Bouncing off the floor with nothing but dented pride and a temper she stood up quickly and hollered at Jonas. Advancing on him, now completely enraged she raised her hand. Her thoughts were unclear as she fumed before him, so vexed that she could just jump up and down on him till all his bones were crushed. Yet luckily for them both another blast centered on the bridge knocked them both flying.

Steven stood nursing his bleeding hand staring viciously at her. "Are you mad?" Then another blast hit the ship near their bridge, sending him flying.

With the wind knocked out of her Dhani sat slightly dazed near the far wall of the bridge. As she opened her eyes and assessed that nothing was broken or damaged; perhaps bruised, yet that was of no consequence. What did draw her attention and caused her to groan loudly with dismay was the fact that the control panel was flickering wildly and smoking. That brought the end to that little argument she guessed.

Begrudgingly she stood and crossed the room to where Jonas lay, offering him a hand to stand up, and also in peace offering. She cast him a small, embarrassed smile of apology.

Steven was wary of her motives but reached up and took her hand. Once standing he pulled out a handkerchief and bound it round his hand. Women! Were they all insane?

"Inner Demons" Part Two

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering, USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

Steven took the lead as they made their way to the door to the bridge and the hallway outside. Though she had been able to take out six Hydrans so easily, in the small corridors her hand to hand abilities would not likely be up to scratch, and coupled with his marine training; Steven took the lead. "Ready?"

The timid, scared woman that had stepped onto a hostile ship with a hardened battle experience marine had long gone. Dhanishta simply smiled, that smile which was so out of place on her face. Stepping forward in front of Jonas, taking his position, she nodded to him as she reached the door. Waiting a beat she then pressed the indent beside the door and crouched as it opened. Checking the left, she waited for him to check the right before she ran through the door; there was no point in dawdling now, the Hydran knew there were there, the rest of their fleet knew that they were there! Already the other ships in the Hydran fleet had begun to fire upon the Hammer, it was going to make their escape all that much more, her eyes lit up…..exciting!

The adrenaline pumped through her blood as she slowed to a jog down the halls. It was like trying to run on a trampoline, what with the soft floors and the fact that every few minutes the ship rocked with another impact. It made her giddy to think of the Hydrans running round like headless chickens as their own kind blew them to bits. Although it also reminded her of a time when the Galaxy was fired upon by one of their own, that time that happened, yet didn't. She shook the paradox from her thoughts; this was no time to reminisce.

As they rounded another bend in the hall Dhanishta cursed and quickly backtracked. And then like a rabbit, she paused, quick stepped forwards and then backwards as she made up her mind to carry on or to use some sense and wait for Jonas to catch up and give her covering fire.

Casting an eye back down the hall she nodded to Jonas who wasn't that far behind her after all. She thought she had lost him when she sprinted out of the bridge, so much for her leadership skills and team work ethics. Shrugging the thoughts away she turned her head back to the approaching pissed off Hydrans.

Sod it, kamikaze it was.

Steven heard the Hydrans before Dhani saw them, and sped up, but didn't make it to her position before they opened fire. His abdomen hurt like it was on fire, but the adrenaline that coursed through him allowed him to ignore the pain. Finally reaching her, he fired several shots in their direction. "Are you always this crazy, woman?"

"Much…" Dhani paused between shots, "much… worse…" she teased trailing off as she somersaulted to the other side of the corridor. Crouching down she depressed the trigger on her rifle, letting the busts lance out in droves.

Firing again, he saw one go down, to be replaced by two more, who were no doubt just as eager to deal to the intruders as they were of getting away. The ship shook again and knowing there wasn't going to be much time left before the ship breached, Steven wished he had another grenade to use against them. Sadly he was out; the Klingons had regrettably not had much of those sorts of weapons in storage.

The escape pods were just down the hall, right in front of where the Hydrans stood, and Steven couldn't see a way to them. Dhani was slightly further down the hall, hiding behind an extruding piece of the bioform material that made up the ship. He was going to have to find a way to her and then forward another couple of meters to the escape pods.

For a moment Dhani's attention crossed the divide between them and focused on Jonas. It was almost as if something hit her and for a few seconds was slightly stunned. She kept her finger on the trigger yet she no longer aimed as her eyes closed tightly against the rush of feelings.

Steven looked over at Dhani. She wasn't firing at the Hydrans, but rather staring straight at him. He didn't know what was going on, but he fired again, hoping to give Dhani more time to recover from whatever it was. Steven didn't think either of them would survive for long by themselves. He needed her, just as she needed him. There was another who needed him, but now wasn't the time to think about that. She would have to wait until he and Dhani could get out of here.

All of it was a jumble as she tried to process what was going on. After a while it hit her, she could *feel* Jonas. It was strange, all this time fighting with him and beside him, and only now did she connect with him. She could hear him, his anxiety was thick and choking, like stale air. She frowned as more emotions flooded her mind. Even stranger was the fact that she recognized one; love… it was a bizarre concept to think of at a time like this, completely contradictory. She opened her eyes and staggered back, falling on her butt as a Hydran lunged at her; her aim had been a little too far to the right, no kill counts for hitting the wall!

Steven saw the Hydran approach the engineer too late and fired when he could. As he lined up the shot, the Hydran lunged at Dhani. He fired and saw with satisfaction as the Hydran slumped over.

Rectifying her situation for her, she nodded her thanks to Jonas, probably the first time that she had done that since they met. She could feel his urgency now and see it in his expression. Turning back to the swarm of Hydrans that oozed from the hall before them she finally realized why he was so twitchy.

Standing up fully, so she had a better view, and therefore aim, she began to flood the hall with covering fire.

~Get behind me~ she told Jonas telepathically. She had no idea if he would hear her, but since she could feel him, she hoped that it kinda went both ways.

Steven blinked at the intrusion into his mind. Last time he had been a little miffed at the whole thing, but after he and Nara had shared the connection that they had, he wasn't startled by Dhani's 'voice' in his head. Nodding, he dived into a roll and came up behind her. Raising his rifle, he fired again down the hallway allowing Dhani time to load another power cell.

Once he was safely in behind her she crouched back down. There wasn't much room behind the little outcrop of biowall that she was using for cover, but she wasn't planning to be there long. Maneuvering behind him as quickly as she could, so she wouldn't get her ass vaporized, she lay down on the floor. "I'm going in, cover me and when I get to their position I'll cover you. You then get to the escape pods. Jettison all of them, but ours. Once done give me a sign and cover me so I can join you." she whispered staring at him intently to see if her liked her plan.

Steven shrugged. He didn't have anything better in mind so he was game. "Yeah, sure, just let me reload before you go."

Dhani nodded, "No problem." she replied. She was a little bit worried now, popping her head out she saw the mass of legs before them. Shit there was a lot…. She glanced back up at Jonas as he began to stand up, oh how she would like it if he had said 'no I'll go you stay here'. Dhani composed herself, the adrenaline in her system must be dissipating, running out or something id she was starting to get scared again.

Steven stood and plastered the hallway with fire. He wasn't aiming so much as pushing them back enough for Dhani to move.

There was no time to be afraid. As he began his onslaught Dhani crawled along her belly as fast as she could. Before she was even half way her arms began to ach. She didn't have as much upper body strength as she used to. She cursed Suder in that moment, before their fight and her coma, this would have been a piece of cake. But now she was beginning to struggle. Felling the burn she cringed, her face wincing with pain as she pushed her tiring body through its pain barrier.

Steven smiled as Dhani made it to where she was intending to go. Now it was his turn. At least that was the plan. Steadying himself to run, he reacted slowly to the sound of skin tearing as a scaly Hydran hand punched through the bioform wall and grabbed at his throat. Steven struggled against the more powerful grip, while still trying to fire down the hallway.

Now in position Dhani didn't wait a beat to open fire on the Hydrans. There were so many of them all packed tightly together, almost as if they didn't realize that she and Jonas were there. For a moment she looked at one of their faces trying to decipher the expression it adorned. Behind the face she saw the mass swell from all directions. There was a bend in the corridor not too far ahead and she couldn't fathom why they were all just standing in the hallway and not using the logistics of the ship to better their advantage against her and Jonas.

Steven finally managed to twist around enough to see where the hand was broaching the wall and fired at it's stump. The grip lessened enough for him to break free and make the dash towards Dhani. "That was close." he said as he passed.

She nodded but did not respond, she did not want to loose her concentration. There wasn't much need to aim at this point in time; it was like a blood bath. All she had to do was stand there and strafe the corridor from side to side and watch the pile of moaning chattering, squeaking Hydrans grow larger.

It suddenly dawned on her, "They are trying to get to the escape pods." she said ducking down to reload her burnt out power cell, "We have to stop them." she told him.

"Pass me the PADD would you?" He asked Dhani, knowing that he wouldn't know what the buttons on the escape pod control did.

Responding Dhani pulled out the padd from her waste band and handed it to him. "This one," she indicated the padd and the picture is displayed, "this one and then that one… I think." she added standing back up to shoot a Hydran that was scrambling over the others to get to them.

"Thanks." He tucked the PADD into his belt and prepared to make the last dash to the escape pods. Nodding that he was ready, he waited for Dhani.

Nodding Dhani once again pointed and pulled the trigger. Moving out from her spot and into the open she kept her finger firm as she daringly inched forward while Jonas ran behind her to the other side of the hall where the escape pods were located.

Steven dived into the alcove and pulled out the PADD trying to figure out how to get the escape pod ready.

She lost sight of him as he disappeared into the doors alcove, not that it mattered, she had her own things to focus on, mainly not getting shot as she had absolutely no cover. Stepping forward again, her rifle low at her side, she paused as her feet connected with the pile of dead bodies. For a second she glanced down at them. Nausea washed over her and she felt her stomach turn. Looking back up, wanting to hold her nose even though she couldn't smell them, the mask she wore protected her from the environment in that respect, she froze.

Her whole body just went numb as she stared at the image before her. It wasn't Hydran.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Three

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Shot after shot nailed the little demon scum as they tried to move forward and return fire. Most of them probably didn't even realize that their attackers had high ground cover. That was until a blast of energy shot through the hole in the wall back towards him, missing by only a foot or so.

Pierre ducked down low and crawled over away from the opening to a large shattered window. He slowly popped his head up to look over before he raised the rifle up. The fighting below was fiercely heated, but the Hyrdans were taking the most damage in the ambush.

Basset steadied the rifle on the edge of the window as he opened fire again. This was why he loved being a sniper...

Amy blasted away at every Hydran that came into her field of view. She had lost count of how many she had killed in the past three weeks, but knew it was quite high. Not that she was competing against anyone in particular. She just wanted to send them all to hell. Firing at yet another that entered her line of sight, Amy saw that he - or was it a she, not that it really mattered, - was missing an arm. Lining him up in her scope she went to squeeze the trigger, but stopped as a phaser blast lanced out from the second story of one of the nearby buildings. It was that damned Basset stealing her kills again! She was going to have to have a word with him after this.

Finding no available targets Amy VanDuren turned to look at the returned lieutenant. She hardly knew Jonas, being in first platoon to his second, but it was good to see him back in action again. Especially with Baile still missing in action and London constantly helping out in the medical area of the underground city. She had seen him hanging out with a Raven haired woman several times in the underground city and she wondered if they were an item. Spotting a Hydran rising up the mound of rubble before Steven, she aimed and fired, scoring a direct hit to its head. With satisfaction she watched as it keeled over and tumbled down the hill past the lieutenant.

Steven hadn't seen the Hydran approaching his position but felt the phaser pass nearby as the Private took her shot. As the Hydran tumbled past, he turned to her and nodded his thanks.

Amy smiled and nodded back before running off to find more of the tripods to kill.

Pierre sat in his crow's nest watching as the ambush worked to on the last few Hydrans that were left. The one thing he couldn't understand is that there had seemed to be more when the fire-fight started. His Phaser rifle spat once more, the streak of energy lancing out from the darkness around the building and dropping another Hydran stupid enough to pop it's beaked little gullet out from behind the cover. But something just didn't make sense... There was a small number of Hydrans still missing from the original numbers.

Pierre let the others take on the rest of the group as he surveyed the area for the others. Had they run? Were they trying to flank the main group? He slowly surveyed the area around the fire fight until he saw the darkened figure of a Hydran moving through a cluster of rubble. The figure moved just behind cover before Pierre could take the shot. He was right. A small number of Hydrans were trying to flank the main body on the left.

Basset adjusted the position of his phaser rifle quickly to better stabilize his shots. He watched the area the Hydrans had been at, waiting for any sign of movement. Suddenly a group of four Hyrdans rushed from their cover towards the other Starfleet Personnel. This was getting hairier then he figured it would be.

His rifle opened fire in quick controlled shots as he took down two Hydrans before they could get a shot off. One of the little tripod bastards winged one of the marines, Pierre couldn't tell who, but that was only a split second before the Hydran dissolved into atoms and scattered across the city. The last attacker was taken out by one of the other marines, dropping the bugger as it tired to retreat. Pierre looked around again slowly, trying to find any more targets.

Amy watched as another group of Hydrans tried to get in on the action, heading inbound from the East on several vehicles that she couldn't make out to clearly. Turning her weapon in their direction she began firing, hoping to take out the headlights of the lead vehicle, or even perhaps the driver.

Steven too had heard the sound of the approaching vehicles and had quickly dispatched the last Hydran that he could see. Turning, he saw the telltale haze of exhausted methane gas floating up from the vehicles, much, he assumed, in the same way that Terrans breathed out Carbon Dioxide. That had been one of the many nuggets of seemingly useless bits of information his sister and acting mother had taught him. Being a school teacher and all. And until now he had thought it useless. He gave orders for some of the men to form up, and fire at will on the oncoming Hydrans while the rest finished off the last dregs of the Hydran platoon that they had ambushed.

He raised his rifle, like the men and women around him and fired repeatedly at the lead vehicle. Their shots were ineffective, seemingly doing no damage whatsoever to the strong metal that made up the shell of the big transport. Turning to look at the tired, worn faces of the assembled Marines, Steven wondered briefly why they followed a bastard like him. Shaking the thought away, he looked over at Jenkins and Patterson, the two demolitions experts they had with them, "Jenkins, got anything that might dent it?"

Jenkins nodded and turned to Patterson to get the required materials from him. Standing at the front of the group, he flipped a switch on the device he was holding and threw it like a frisbe towards the vehicles.

Steven watched it skid and bounce and finally come to a stop near a small rock. Moments passed before the lead vehicle approached the device. Steven didn't know whether the driver had not seen it or didn't see it as a threat, but either way, the vehicle kept coming and after passing over the device, it exploded in a mighty blast.

Flames leapt up around the vehicle as it rolled forward, screams echoing out into the cold night as the Hydrans inside roasted, yet on the vehicle came, unaffected by the death of the driver. The men and women of the unit Steven was leading scattered in all directions as the burning hulk of a transport ship careered past the marines into the middle of the pile of dead Hydrans.

Many of the Marines watched as the burning vehicle came to a stop. The distraction proved costly for many as their inattention on the second and third vehicles gave the Hydrans within ample opportunity to get out and get to cover, before opening up with their weapons against the Marines. Many were cut down where they stood. Others lay about moaning at the wounds they received from the Hydran weapons.

As the last little bastard tripod from the ambushed group of hydrans atomized into nothingness, a flaming vehicle plowed right through where it had just been, careening off course as it burned, hitting some rubble and rolling over onto it side. A few flaming Hydrans rolled out of the vehicle and Pierre smiled as he decided to save power and let them burn. Instead, he turned his attention to the path it had come from, seeing as it would have had to pass right through the other marines. Peirre got up from where he was at and looked out the window, using his monocular to look over the battlefield. The marines were scattering another mass of Hydrans debarked their transports and took up cover. Pierre swore a series of French curses into the night air as he knew that this spot wouldn't give him a firing position on the new enemy location.

Pierre took off like a bullet. The stairs were not far and he could get to the roof quickly to get the best firing position of all. He ran through the rooms at a dead sprint, hurdling obstacles in his way as he made a bee line for the stairwell. In his flight he hadn't seen the lone dark figure that was moving in the distance, until an energy blast almost took off his right leg in mid hurdle. Pierre fell to the ground and lay still for a moment. He heard

rustling off in the distance as he slowly and silently low crawled to get behind cover. The little fucker was coming to check the body.

Pierre got behind a desk and got to a kneeling position quickly, sticking his head up in the darkness to see any movement. The little tripod was steadily headed towards him. Peirre sighed deeply. His sprang upwards and leveled the rifle the crosshair fell over the target and he ripped off a blast. The Phaser Pulse struck the target just as its weapon fired, sending the incoming fire wide of Pierrs's position. The sniper grinned and stood again, thankfully that had been the only one... He had just been in too much of a hurry to notice the blurred life form readings on his monocular readout.

He took off again through the building, still vaulting over anything in his way and sprinting up the staircase 5 steps at a time in massive strides until he burst out onto the roof. He ran over to the edge of the building where the fighting was at. He could see the flashes illuminating the darkness of the night. Pierre dove the last little bit, sliding on his leg along the roof, his foot stopping him when he hit the edge of the building. He spun quickly and set up his rifle, looking over the battlefield to see where the Hydrans were at. He adjusted the settings on his rifle slightly and took aim at the thickest grouping of the tripods. He took a second to steady himself. The tripod did a great job, but he was breathing too hard. He had to compensate for it. He gritted his teeth together as he took the first shot, blowing the head off of one that was firing from behind cover. The good thing about the building he was in was that it gave him a side shot of the entire field. The

Hydrans were taking cover from the marines in front of them and didn't think about anything coming in from the side. Their entire flank was left ripe for the picking, and it was time for Peirre to reap what the freakish little bastards had sowed...

Another almighty explosion shook the ground as the Hydrans began their counter attack. It appeared that they had demolition experts of their own. Everything in the blast radius shook, several already damaged buildings just collapsed, concertinaed into a heap of rubble sending plumes of dirt and grit filled smoke into the atmosphere. For Hawkins the rest of the battle became a blur as he fell to the ground. The noise was deafening, his ears began to ring as he laid face up, struggling to breathe. A pang of pain rippled through his chest, a tear rolled down his smudged cheeks as he blinked, trying to focus on the only thing he could see; the sky.

Through his rapidly tunneling vision he saw a figure looming over him, yet he couldn't quite make out who it was. The dark blob spoke; he knew that, he could feel the voice vibrating though the ground, was he shouting? He blinked once more, squinting hard to force his eyes to bring the man before him into focus. Slowly his hearing came back, though it was like cotton wool was stuffed into his ears. The muffled voice spoke again and this time he heard it clearly enough to understand.

"Your gonna be fine mate, just hang in there."

Taking in a sharp breath he licked his lips, begging moisture to come into his mouth so he could speak.

"Just hold on man!"

Hawkins blinked again, yet slower this time. He felt his eye lids getting heavy and temptation to just let them close and go to sleep was overwhelming.

It hit him then. The words finally registering as his brain fought to keep up with what was happening. This was it. This was the end of it. The battle was over. At least for him. He had said those words, he knew what they meant. He tired to move but couldn't. He tried to speak, but couldn't. His body wasn't registering anything from his brain, and he didn't have the strength to fight it. As the blob moved beside him, calling for help, screaming with an urgency that if Hawkins had any feeling left in his body, would have made his hairs stand up on end, twist a knot in his stomach and make him weep for his mother like a child.

Yet he didn't have any feeling in his body any more and all awareness of his surroundings was quickly slipping away. So he looked back up at the sky and realized something quite profound; there are many more shades of grey than any other colour …

Steven looked at the chaos around him. "Shit!"

"The Assault"

The Crew of the Vigilant

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

(Bridge, USS Vigilant)

Na'sav watched the rather impressive formations arrayed against them. Apparently Fleet Admiral Murdock wasn't the only one to secure new friends. The looming fight promised to be a spectacular one as far as fights go. The storied T'kith'kin fleet was what caught his particular attention. Their much vaunted warships would make excellent first targets... and there was a heavy cruiser that had the Vigilant's sights printed on it.

If it were up to him, they would encircle and destroy the enemy here, and keep on going until they completely eliminate the threat posed by their enemies. You couldn't attack someone if your fleet and starbases were destroyed. Those weren't their orders however, and orders had to be followed. The goal was to disable the ships, not destroy them... regardless of what he thought. It wasn't so much about 'killing' the enemy as it was depriving them of the assets of their vessels... even disabled vessels could be repaired and returned to service.

"Thirty seconds until weapons range." Sorena announced from the helm. Their fast attack squadron consisted of six Birds of Prey, the Vigilant, and an older Romulan Frigate named Me'hov.

"We're receiving targeting information from Miranda now." Iannella reported. Na'sav was glad to have her... aside from her brilliance with tactical systems, she knew all the strange ways he had of wording orders, a whole string of which was about to flow.

"Have the K'lage and Pa'dus take target one. The Jo'veg and the Cra'huk can take target two. The Fo'lok and the Resik can tage target three. We'll take target four with the Me'hov. Inform all ships to break once we're in weapons range."

"All vessels acknowledge, sir." A young man at the Ops-two console responded.

"Entering weapons range, Admiral Murdock's plan seems to be working." Iannella offered a small smile of relief. At least things would go fast.

The squadron broke up, two ships each attacking a pre-determined target. The Vigilant herself was gunning for a Hydran cruiser which seemed to be a command ship for the task force opposing them. In theory the Vigilant would knock out the ship, and their Romulan counterpart would be on guard incase one of it's friends managed to escape the effect of the pulse and made an attack.

Sorena expertly navigated the ship into position. Na'sav gave the order to 'clear all guns', and Iannella fired precisely aimed pulses and beams at the hapless cruiser. In just a few shots her sub-light propulsion, communications, weapons, and defensive systems were downed. She was useless for anything more then retreating really.

It wasn't enough for the Romulans, or the Klingons for that matter. The Klingons however destroyed their targets in such a fashion as to make it seem they 'were' out to disable the enemy ships. The Romulan Frigate just launched a trio of Plasma torpedoes and blew to pieces the already crippled vessel.

Such a blatant disregard had to atleast be pointed out. "Get me the Me'hov."

"Sub-Commander Telek on speaker sir."

The fighting didn't stop just because Na'sav was on the speaker with his Romulan counter-part. Sorena moved them on to another target, a T'Kith'kin Light Cruiser which seemed to be better off even after a few hits then it's Hydran or Breen counterparts with some of it's systems still functioning, while Iannella aimed a pair of Quantum torpedoes and another pulse volley. "Telek..." Na'sav folded his hands habitually, keeping his tone civil. "Our orders are to 'disable' the enemy vessels."

Telek's response wasn't nearly as cordial. "Don't tell me how to do my job Starfleet, and I won't tell you how to do yours!"

Na'sav sighed. He wasn't about to fight with the man. One enemy at a time was a good rule for a reason. He'd just send a report to Admiral Murdock and let the higher-ups handle it after all was said and done. Frankly, the Hydrans especially had earned it.

The light cruiser was listing to starboard, a result of many of the menuvering thrusters being knocked out and a frantic attempt at evasive action restricted by the proximity of it's comrades. The Romulan frigate followed up with rapid Disruptor blasts to it's command center and a quartet of plasma torpedoes.

And they were only fifty seconds into the five minute window.

The next target to come up was none less then what must have been the Hydran version of a battleship. It was huge, and in place of the fighter bays it's carrier cousins had seemed to house defense-breeching caliber weapons. Sufficing to say if they allowed this ship to become operational again, it would cause problems. He was about to give an order when the sillhouette of a T'Kith'kin destroyer came into view, a solid hit jostling the Defiant class ship.

"Break off our attack run, pursue that destroyer! Let Sub-Commander Telek he has my blessing to take on the Battleship." One of them had to play guard after all, and it seemed like the drive for vengence in Telek was keeping his ship from effectively doing that.

What followed was a minute and a half of jockying for position and exchanging weapons fire. The Vigilant managed to keep the advantage thanks to their faster response times, and the Defiant Class' massive forward firepower. The Destroyer dove, Iannella managed to get a good phaser burst on her starboard side before she pulled up. Correcting course, Sorena stayed in the dive a split second longer, allowing the Vigilant to pull up and strike at the destroyer's ventral with another solid burst. The enemy banked hard to port, a few errant shots of the Vigilant's impacting against a group of enemy fighters, and retaliated with a hard hit to her port side. The shields took the entirety of the hit though, which was more then could be said for the T'kith'kin vessel as Iannella trained a pair of Quantum torpedoes on their weakened Starboard section.

The resulting damage proved just how badly wounded the T'Kith'kin ship was... fire eminating from her insides along with internal atmosphere. She now stood out like a sore thumb, even following a fantastically tight turn to starboard. When the Vigilant followed, it became all too clear what the enemy's plan was... they were driving for the protection of the bigger guns of one of the T'Kith'kin heavy cruisers.

For a second Na'sav considered calling off the chase. They 'had' wounded the frigate after all, and he didn't want to get pulled into a protracted fire-fight with a heavy cruiser and end up missing the opportunity to truly havoc the disabled fleets. Then again, he was taught that once a fight was engaged, you stuck with it, for a bunch of reasons.

"Sorena, take us above the destroyer and ready for a reversal. I want to use that destroyer to protect us from that cruiser."

The Vulcan woman gave a firm nod, the Vigilant racing to close the gap, flying 'upside down' as a casual observer would say. It was a classic space race... if it was timed just right they'd get the kill 'and' would escape most of the blasts eminating from the heavy cruiser. If they pulled the trigger too soon, they'd get clobbered. If they waited too long, they'd have to break off and the destroyer would get away.

Na'sav watched the readings on his left hand side pannel. Biting his lip, he made the call. "Now!"

Sorena brought the destroyer into their firing arc. Iannella fired ruthlessly with the vaunted phaser cannons she had at her disposal. The already damaged destroyer didn't take much more, ablaze before the Vigilant went verticle, diving past the burning hulk and racing to obscure itself from the T'Kith'kin cruiser among the disabled ships of the fleet. The Heavy Cruiser fired repeatedly, but without a solid lock. Vigilant rocked once, twice, but soon was effectively 'gone'.

A little under three-minutes.

"Shields at eighty percent." Iannella's assistant, a newly minted Warrant Officer that was part of the Vigilant's training detachment called from Tactical-two.

"Take us back to the Me'hov. Nelly hit every damned thing you can along the way."

It would be a ten second dash to the Me'hov, and true to the orders Iannella made the time count. She'd hit the primary command center of one Breen destroyer, and inadvertantly the power core of the second in formation, destroying it and damaging it's neighbors. At least in her case it was truly unintended, but an accident that a simple 'oops' would cure for now.

"The Me'hov is under attack." Sorena offered in an unnervingly impassive tone. Sure enough, on-screen a T'Kith'kin frigate with a four-fighter flight was hammering away on the Romulan vessel. She did everything she could to shake them... twisting, turning, firing... but it was obvious the older designed vessel was outgunned.

Na'sav cursed under his breath. He 'should' have seen it coming... the good old 'pick'n roll'... one of the ships luring him away so another could swoop in and get a kill. He'd done it himself often enough to know what had happened... it was obvious, if it wasn't before, that the T'Kith'Kin certainly deserved respect for their combat abilities. The Frigate turned about as they closed in, just in time for Iannella to give them a pair of quantum torpedoes and a long burst of phaser pulses broadside. Heavily damaged, it limped away, the fighters providing an annoying screen, for easier pickings elsewhere. Three of the four fighters were shot down as they passed, the last moving beyond range too quickly.

"The Me'hov has sustained extensive damage." The one science officer on the bridge reported. "Their going to go critical in twenty seconds."

"Beam her survivors aboard." Na'sav wringed his hands as he ordered.

"We'd have to lower or resynchronize our sh..."

"I know, lower them." If he was lucky, that damaged frigate would come back to try and hit them while their shields were down, and give the Vigilant another easy kill in the process. If he was really 'un' lucky, a T'Kith'kin capital ship was a lot closer than he thought and would rip them a new one.

Today was a really lucky day. The shields went down, twenty-eight survivors beamed aboard, and were even raised back up 'just' as the frigate had fired. The T'Kith'kin officer in charge probably regretted making the decision as soon as he saw the splashes of weapons fire strike Vigilant's shields. He ended up not regretting it for long, pulses of phaser fire seeing to that.

Two minute warning, and everyone aboard was determined to see that it was used as productively as possible. Beam, pulse, and torpedo streamed from the tiny ship at the heaviest vessels the Breen and Hydran fielded in their section of the line. Two smaller carriers were hit, one destroyed as stored ordinance ignited in a rather brilliant display. A Breen Battle-Group flagship was crippled beyond repair, half a dozen cruisers were neutralized, as were a quartet of smaller destroyers and frigates hurriedly targeted as time was running out. Eighteen other ships were 'hit' by the Vigilant, but not disabled, left operable if weakened as the effect of the sub-space pulse was set to dwindle.

"Ensign, give the orders to our squadron to regroup back with out lines. I want a status report."

Ianella had one ready. "Ship's shields are at seventy-percent. We're down to a dozen torpedoes, no reports of casualties or significant battle damage. We're over two-dozen Romulans heavy... squadron lost the Pa'dus in addition to the Me'hov. All other ships are reporting status nominal, with only the K'lage reporting minor battle damage."

And then there were six.

"Have the K'lage form up with us. Recharge our phasers and shields as best you can before they come at us again. Pass our successes onto Miranda's CIC and request additional orders."

"Diversion"

Corporal Tas Aliete- SFMC (NPC)
Corpsman (2) Elizabeth Ronnel (NPC)
Private First Class Seph Derin (NPC)
And supporting Romulans

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

(Romulus)

Seph scratched the back of his head as the Risian kept walkng. They'd been doing nothing 'but' moving for almost a month now. How he missed the long, easy days and soft warm beaches of his native Risa. The beautiful people with beautiful smiles and wonderful lives to live in relative ease... he definitely was a long ways away from home.

"So we there yet?"

"No." Corporal Tas Aliete replied, the Trill finding his Risian counterpart rather annoying at times. It was especially in moments like this when it became 'truly' evident. The man had a knack for talking way too much, and complaints were listed on top of that. "Now shush up." They did have a mission to complete after all, a simple and small part of a larger plan. Hydran troops had been building barracks to house the long-term occupation forces. According to Colonel Arvelion, the structures were simple, made for easy construction, and for comfort 'filled' with highly flamable, highly explosive methane gas. The instructions the Colonel gave were clear... a level 7 phaser blast was enough to puncture the wall and superheat the metal so that it ignited the gas inside. One big boom would result.

Why he was being sent on such a mission with just six... three Marines and three Romulans, was beyond him. This had the potential to be more then just a simple diversionary attack... hell a few fire-teams and you could pretty much iradicate a Hydran base of operations. It made him wonder exactly what this was a diversionary attack for.

Elizabeth Ronnel, or 'Doc Ronnie' as she was called since this mess had begun, was just out of advanced training, having never been in combat before her posting on the Miranda. A Paramedic by training, she'd only scored average makmanship ratings while in training. She'd never thought she'd end up a Corpsman, attached to the Marines, but here she was. She'd gone on a number of raids with just about every officer in the 101st 'and' a couple with Romulan units in need of a medic. How she managed to survive till now was still something of a miracle in her eyes. One that wasn't lost on her... hell she was there when Lieutenant Collins went down, and if the L-T could go down, she was sure her time would be fast approaching. Best not to dwell on it.

A dozen grenades, three standard Starfleet phaser-rifles, and three older but well serviced Romulan disruptor-rifles marked the primary weapons available to the ad-hoc squad. Tas was determined to break his team down into pairs, have them pick their targets, and fire two or three shots each. The base was a forward operations post of sorts, with fifteen buildings, nine of which were barracks. If they were fast and accurate, the six of them should be able to set all nine ablaze...

And then he saw something he certainly didn't expect. T'Kith'kin... and Breen? Here? And worse yet, working with the Hydrans! Tas was torn... he 'should' head back and report this development in, but after a quick check he realized by now the Colonel's plan was underway anyway. There'd be nobody to report this 'to' even if he opted to take that route... and if they didn't accomplish the mission, this Battalion, with all it's new found friends, would end up on it's way to attack the other groups. No, the Trill realized they were in too deep to stop now.

Seph and his Romulan shadow made the longest trek, taking up a spot in one of the bombed-out ruins opposite the base. Ironically it was the Hydrans themselves who created the natural cover they'd be relying on to pull this off by destroying the buildings nearest to the base so snipers couldn't do exactly what the mixed group was about to do. Tas' pair settled in the middle, the Trill fine tuning the sighting systems on his rifle to guarantee quick and accurate follow up shots. Even Elizabeth, who absolutely 'hated' the idea of being herself a participant in a fire fight, had her rifle out and pointed at a building. She 'could' hit the broadside of a barn, and the fact was she hated the idea of being killed even more than she hated the idea of killing.

The base's shield was down. A convoy of T'Kith'kin and Breen troops and vehicles were entering, obviously to reinforce the Hydran troops and in preparation of an offensive. Tas did his best to count what he could for intel purposes, but as soon as the opportunity arose, they all took it.

Six shots, six hits against four buildings. Good to the Colonel's word, there was a flash blaze and then the sound of an explosion. The expertly trained Breen, T'Kith'kin, and Hydran troops 'not' in their bunks immediately took up firing positions, waiting to see where those blasts had come from in the sensor hostile environment that had become this part of the city. Another volley, this time three buildings, including a hover-vehicle garage exploded in flames. They'd done everything they could, by now the armored hover-tanks were being crewed and turned around, and the ready infantry had begun returning fire at the phaser flashes. One of the Romulans went down, the latest death, as the group 'ran' for all they were worth to pre-decided rendezvous coordinates.

Even as they ran, they could hear the unsentient screams of flaming Hydrans running from their barracks. In their panic, many ran into other buildings, likewise igniting them and creating even more of a problem. Faced with the loss of the base, or pursuing a few Marines they'd likely kill anyway, the Breen and T'Kith'kin began exterminating those Hydrans they couldn't help, and ready the base for a follow up attack.

The follow up attack would never come, but it certainly had the desired effect of pinning down a lot of valuable enemy soldiers.

“Inner Demons” Part Three

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering, USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon, SFMC, USS Galaxy

****

IHV Hammer of Absolution

****

(Set three days after the Romulan and Federation Fleet withdrawal from the 'Fight for Romulus')

Standing in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by dead bodies, more Hydran approaching, Jonas trying to figure out the code to the escape pods somewhere behind her; Dhani froze, her weapon dropping slightly in her grip, her finger slowly releasing off the trigger as she stared at a mental image.

Before her stood a child; that same child from her nightmares. Her breathing quickened, her heart rate speeding up as she stared, mesmerized by the pools of ebony the porcelain face had for eyes. So many nights she had seen this face, so many times she had felt the girls fear. So many times she had felt the euphoria of murdering her. And so many times she had awoken struck with guilt for feeling that way, for knowing that the nightmare was a memory and not a terror from her subconscious.

And now that girl stood before her very eyes, the carnage of the dead Hydrans as her back drop. Never before had Dhani see the face other than in her mind or dreams. Never before had she appeared as she was now, mingling into reality as if she had always been there.

Unbeknown to Dhani she had in fact always been with her, from the moment she was conceived, the image of the child and her painful death along with so many others was etched into the forming foetus of Dhanishta Eshe.

Stunned by the sudden apparition, terrified of the emotion and feeling that memory invoked Dhani did nothing but stare, dumb struck, as the Hydrans came.

~They all deserve it…~

A soft silky voice slithered inside her mind.

~Kill them all~

Dhanishta took a step back, repulsed by the words and the feeling behind them. So cold, so bitter, full of anger and pain; full of evil. That voice was new and disturbing, far beyond anything that was happening here. Far beyond the things she had already done, the atrocities she had committed were nothing in comparison to the memory of just how she had murdered that child.

Shaking her head to clear the image she tried to focus on what she was doing. Focus on protecting Jonas while he struggled to get them passage to safety. Raising the rifle again she aimed at the approaching Hydran, not even flinching as a blast whizzed past her face, so close to her that it singed the stray strands of her hair that had come loose. Fact was she just hadn't seen it, nor did she feel it, or even realize how close to death she was in that moment.

She took aim, the Hydran was in the crosshairs, yet so was the girl.

Steven studied the Hydran markings on the control panel. God how he wished he had paid more attention in the Foreign Language classes at the Academy. If not for that pretty redhead in the third row, he might have a better understanding of just what made languages work. He closed his eyes for a moment, to calm his frayed nerves and took another crack. Spotting a symbol on the PADD, Steven found the activation control and pressed it. The panel lit up with the pods still attached, which from what he could see looked like all but one. Someone had already been here and used a pod.

Forcing her eyes closed she took a breath, every second counted, if she didn't pull herself together she would be joining the image in purgatory.

Yet as she opened her eyes once more, ready to take aim on the Hydran, ready to fire, the image that came into view assaulted her with its senseless violence and cruelty. Blood splattered the wall, it dripped, a pool forming by her feet, seeping from the body of a small boy, only a few years older than the girl. His lifeless motionless body just lay there superimposed over the pile of fallen Hydrans.

She took another step back, as if that alone would remove the images that permanently stained her brain.

Inside she felt the urge to turn and run. Only part of her, the part that was still conscious, knew she had to stay and fight. Yet how could she fight? How could she kill another being? After the lives she had ruined, the murder of helpless children. These Hydran had families too, she was taking more lives and ripping them open for the vultures to pick at.

Pressing each pod on the display, he pressed the button with the squiggly lines that opened the hatch of the pod. Watching as the timer, at least he assumed it was a counter, count down, the door sealed itself and then he heard the sounds of an engine firing and the pod disappeared from the display. Highlighting the rest of the pods, except for one last one, he pressed that same button again and watched as the counter wound down.

Something inside her lurched, something deep within fought to break out. That voice rang again, that line that she had been telling herself since this war began. That feeling came once again, all the memories from before, for the girl and the boy were only one of many, the voice screaming out as if in defense of those actions; ~THEY ALL DESERVED IT!~

Dhani raised the rifle, pointing it at the girl, she fired. Feeling the lust within her, unable to ignore it, she felt giddy as she took another shot. The anger sprung from nowhere and she surged forwards, screaming loudly as she ran into the swarming mass of three armed tripods. Scrambling over the dead bodies, with no respect for the dead, she let rip shooting wildly, hitting anything that came near with the butt of the rifle. Brandishing it like a club she smashed it down upon the masses and hollered as loudly as she could.

And then once more she came to a halt. Eyes stinging, bile rose in her stomach, unable to stop it she bent over and wretched. Stumbling back as another wave of Hydrans descended the corridor, hell bent on their own prevail, she fell over the bodies and slid back on the floor.

Reaching for her weapon she stood, fumbling to get into position she stared up at the Hydran and the image of the memory. The girl advanced through the pile of dead Hydran, her little white face staring intently at her.

“We deserved it didn't we? So why have you stopped shooting?” the image shouted angrily.

That was it. The rifle fell from Dhani's hand the shock routing her to the spot, her vision tunneled on the advancing child and for the first time she was petrified. Her bladder lost all control and she literally wet herself as the girls face came closer and closer screaming at her till her mouth opened so wide that all Dhani could see was the blackness within as the memory swallowed her.

"I think we are ready to go." Steven said as he turned to see Dhani drop her rifle. At first he feared that she might have been shot, but he quickly dismissed that as he couldn't see any blood on her. He took a step towards her, and saw a bunch of Hydrans descending on her like vultures. Steven ran for Dhani and throwing caution to the wind, he dived into the Hydran masses knocking them about. Steven felt a twinge in his still sore abdomen, but paid it no heed as he tried to climb off the Hydran bodies he had just jumped onto.

Steven rose to his feet and extracted his weapon from under a Hydran, whose neck seemed stuck at an odd angle. He looked at Dhani who had not moved an inch. Just crouched there on the floor. Steven shook the cobwebs from his head and fired at the Hydrans he saw still trying to come forward.

"Dhani?" He called out.

Hunched on the floor the petite engineer didn't respond, at least not to his question. Her body shook violently, the blood draining from her face leaving it a shade of white that was just not natural for someone alive. The bile rose again in her throat and she began to hyperventilate. She could see nothing but the blackness, it surrounded her, penetrated her very being and from around her all she could hear was the wailing of the dammed souls she had taken from this existence and sent into a realm of limbo. They all screamed at her, curses flew, so many that she couldn't hear a single one, just a continuous thrum of noise assaulting her mind with its rise in pitch and fury.

She babbled incoherently, more to herself than at the voices in her mind. Yet there was one that seemed to stand out from the rest. The same voice from before, yet now it was softer, it was like it was hers again, just like the rambling thoughts of anyone's subconscious. She swallowed hard lifting her head slightly, turning her ear to the sounds around her. The explosions weaved there way back into focus mixing with the voices of the dead, still too jumbled to distinguish. Her vision gradually came back, yet it was not as it was before. The darkness was illuminated by streams of colour, all intercity sewn together. Pinks and blues, purples, green and red, they all stood out, defined and distinct, yet at the same time they spilled out to one another.

She closed her eyes again and retreated from it. Drawing herself into a small ball she began to weep against the confusion and the pain that was rising in her head. The voices whispering, screaming, shouting, it seemed with every passing second more and more joined the chorus, and she didn't know how to shut them out.

Seeing little in response but for her babbling a bunch on nonsense, he slipped the rifle's strap over his shoulder, stepped over to her and picked her up off the soft spongy floor. Bending down he wrapped his hands around her and hefted her to his shoulder. His hands felt wet to the touch, but he didn't pay it any mind as he walked over to the control and touched the button one last time.

A whirring sound filled the room and Steven had to press the button again to try and open the escape pod. Finally with a hiss it opened and he pushed Dhani in. Her head hit the top of the pod as she slipped in and he cursed his stupidity. Climbing in after her, he waited for the pod door to close and send them as far from the ship as possible.

Slowly the pod door closed and Steven heard the engine fire as he cradled Dhani's head in his arms.

She made no movement in his surprisingly gentle embrace; her chest rose and fell with an irregularity, yet to the untrained eye it was unnoticeable. Her eyes were the only things that indicated a problem, staring out, unfocused, twitching from left to right as if she were reading a book, entirely black.

Steven looked down at Dhani for a moment, she looked almost peaceful, like a little child. Well almost. Her eyes, as dark as night freaked him out. He didn't recall them being that colour, and the twitching gave him the chills. Yet, surprisingly they were mesmerizing at the same time, drawing him in, focusing his attention deep within the deep pit that was her black eyes. It took all his mental effort to draw his gaze away.

The pod rocketed away from the Hammer of Absolution like a bullet from a gun, fleeing certain destruction at the hands of the Hydrans. The small window in the door of the escape pod showed the Hammer in the final throes of life as weapons fire from the other Hydran vessels tore at the hull of the huge cruiser. Though it meant killing a lot of beings, Steven didn't seem to care that Hydrans died aboard the ship as the other ships blew it apart.

As the ship finally succumbed to the weapons fire, the Hammer of Absolution blew up in a flash of fire, sending bits of the ship flying in all directions. The little escape pod shook as the shockwave hurtled past, sending it towards the heavenly body known to the Federation as Romulus.

"Never Forget.....You Are Mine."

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG

Lt. Saul Bental
Intellegence

"Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments.

The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief.

It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace... but we would be hollow... Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead." Joss Wheadon

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{Romulus-Hospital}

McAlister sat, half slumped over on a cot after Steven's proposition of moving in together. Smirking, she realized that he just did not get her. He was grasping at straws, and she knew it. Reclining on the cot, she closed her eyes, transporting herself to another place and time....................................

Faylin hid behind the bedroom sliding door, a slight mischievous smile cemented itself on her pouting mouth. Playfulness dotted her eyes as they danced from the door to the bed....if they made it that far...back to the door. Her ears perked as she heard him enter the living area. He expected her to still be at headquarters, pregnant with work related duties. He was about to find out....she was waiting for him stealthily. The anticipation was causing her to feel warm, extremely so as she felt her heart rate accelerate with each passing slow minute. It was hell...waiting for him, yet she knew the release of having him to herself for just a while was so worth it. Closing her eyes, she jumped a little as her mind found itself concentrating on his foot steps. In the short time they were a couple....she had grown to recognize the exact weight and pace of his foot step.

And it eventually came, a brisk rhythm belonging to a man whose regular pace was fast. From the semi-transparent window she caught a glimpse of him, wearing a pair of dark Koredoir pants and a brown jacket, and carrying the eternal black PADD underneath his armpit.

'The sack of secrets', she called it between herself, and she always wondered if he could legally take it out of Starfleet Intelligence Command.

Why, if he ever get charged for taking out classified data, his lawyer will need to work pretty hard, wouldn't she?

As the doors slid open, she jumped out in front of him and smiled at his shocked expression. "RAH!!!!" Bringing her hands up, her fingers attempted to tickle his rib cage, but not with much success.

He grabbed her wrists, automatically switching to a fighting chance.

Then, he finally recognize who was stalking him.

"Oh, Fay-Fay!"

"Saul....." Faylin pouted as she put her hands on her hips. "Your no fun...." The pout grew larger as she swung her eyes up to his level, pleading with him for a little fun.

He bowed forward, planting a delicate kiss on her nose. "That's because during the day I have to maintain my secret identity as the driest intel analyst. Please forgive?"

She sighed, before going out before him into the living area.

Replicating a glass of sweet tea, she plopped herself down on the sofa. Her eyes were intently watching his every move....tracking him like a hunter. He was delicious to look at, Faylin never tiring of savoring his every bodily movement. Saul Bental was a fine feast for the eyes, making every muscle movement like an expertly aged wine waiting to be savored by the palette. Tilting her head to the side, her eyes narrowed, attempting to get him to notice her. "Saul........"

McAlister bit her rose stained bottom lip. She sat, anticipating at his next move. He had a way of instantly turning on her, creating a wave of passionate longing in the mental sense as well as the physical. He always found a way to excite the living hell out of her, just with a single look.

Finally, he came toward her, with measured steps. The black PADD made its way to the glass table, and leaving it there seemed to have the same effect of stripping. His face was undecipherable.

A slow steady smile met her mouth as she felt her heart beat accelerate. 'Here he.....god......' Was all she could manage to think as he advanced. Her eyes kept on his, the passion, chemistry, and heat was bubbling to the surface between them as it always had.

Faylin sighed....a fat explosion of her breath letting the anticipation escape into the atmosphere somewhat.

He stopped right in front of her. There was a moment where everything stood still. Then, he bent forward, hands reaching forward and gently holding her below the arms. She could feel the tips of his thumbs against her breasts, and she knew the touch wasn't coincidental.

"You, Faylin McAlister." He told her, "are the sexiest thing on planet earth."

Playfully, she shoved his hands away from her. Standing up abruptly, she arched an eyebrow. "That's it? That's all I get? The sexiest thing on planet earth?" Her grin grew wickedly passionate. "Saul Bental. I...." Faylin took her finger at placed it on the top of his jaw, drawing it down to trace the base of his neck as she spoke. "Am the sexiest thing in the universe. And you know it." She took a step forward, playing with the top button on his shirt. Faylin inhaled, taking him all in. It was taking all her better judgement not to leap up into his arms and show him how much she found him irresistible.

However, the last time they did that, she had to spend a week just cleaning up the mess.

Tilting her head to the side slowly, McAlister nailed her gaze on him.

Turning her back towards him, she walked over and grabbed her tea off the table where she left it earlier. She kept her back to him, attempting to be disinterested in him. She knew that's what drove him insane. Steadying her eyes on the wall, a slight soft expression crossed her face. She began counting....'one.........two.........three.......' Her eyebrows knitted, usually he was on top of her by this point. Turning around, her eyes shifted around, he was no where to be seen. This was different. Biting her lower lip, she found herself cursing the day that she first met him. He was one sneaky male. "Babe?" Nothing.

"Panther??" Nothing. Faylin sighed. Panther was the nickname she called him, because she believed he held on the mysteries of the large cat, yet looked so good just walking. He hated when she called him that, so it was more of a show of force from her than anything else.

Perhaps if she pissed him off enough, he'd pounce on her. "I'm not in the mood for this...." The sing song voice was dark as she walked over to the curtains, bringing her right hand up and swatting each one. Rolling her eyes, Faylin swayed her hips to the other side of the room. If he was in here, she was going to give him a show. He deserved to sweat it out. The living arrangement was small, soooo, she made up her mind to do something in each room.

She cleared her throat, making a passionate plea.

"Saul........I...I've missed you so much....I just, mmmmm, can't contain myself any longer." She stripped out of her white shirt, leaving in a soft pile on the floor. *Nothing* 'Crap, it's not working.' McAlister thought as she wondered into the bedroom.

Faylin looked around the bedroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Saul was no ordinary man. The soft padding of her feet went to check the bathroom. Nope, he wasn't in there. So, the bedroom had to be it. "Okay...I think I'm just going to lay down for a while." Where ever he was....she hoped he was getting to her. "I'm just going to go change. Let's see...what to wear." Faylin flipped open the small space in her closet just for her, suddenly saddened at the events that were going to take place later when she was positive he was asleep.

For now, all she could do was have one last tryst with him before........

"Red one? Naw....too slutty." She tossed it in the corner. "Pink one? Nope." That too, went flying through the air. "Blue, negative." Finally, she smiled as her light hand rested on something new. "Ah, this one.....this one is brand new." She shut her mouth, knowing his imagination was working over time as she went into the bathroom, ordered the illumination up, and started to dress herself.

"I like the blue." She heard him whisper as soon as the door closed behind her. Arms wrapped her, and she was delighted to realize that there were no sleeves - or any other piece of cloth - to come between her and her panther.

"I don't think we ever made love in this particular room, Fay-Fay." He hissed, blowing air in her ear.

She slowly closed her eyes, letting the pent up passion she felt release against him as he hissed in her ear. That was it, the one spot that drove her instantly to a fevered pitch. McAlister opened her eyes lazily, giving him her best 'come hither' look, flaring the match between them further. Silence parted the room as he waited for her response. Really, there was no response needed as she parted her lips. The two could read each other from a world apart. Yet, as she closed her mouth, the yearning to tell him something permitted a certain sadness to leak into her liquid brown eyes.

Shaking it off, she brought her hands upwards around his neck, her fingers finding that welcoming thick mass of chocolate curls at the base of his neck that she just loved to loose herself in. A knowing look crossed her face as her fingers locked into a position. Their tenseness told him that Faylin craved his touch. "My memories I keep of our particular after hours activities can not recall any a fore mentioned meetings in this room Panther." A moment between them, then in a rush of activity, she yanked his head back, tilting hers to the side. "You're mine........and you never forget it." It was a last declaration to lover as she fervently found his lips with a passion she had never brought to the surface. Inside, her mind screamed with protest in what she knew had to be done.

He took a step forward, pinning her against the cold wall. "And you're mine." He replied eagerly, as he closed the distance between her naked body and his.

* * *

McAlister found herself looking at him in his sleep. He was always a light sleeper, a memento from darker eras in his life, and she just prayed she'd be able to leave without waking him. It was the last time she would ever have a chance to just study him as he was still.

He was always in a flurry of activity, from the moment he got up in the morning, until he went to bed. And, even then, he could appear active in his sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed. The bed they had shared so many times. Faylin brought her hand up, and laid it gently on his. His hand was wide, long fingered, and artistic. So many times, those fingers.........retracting her hand from his, she closed her eyes and looked away. Turning back, Faylin wanted to wake him up to tell him of what she had gotten herself into. He could help her....he was a very strong man, emotionally and intellectually. He had learned how to temper his strength with tenderness in their relationship. A relationship that was ending way too soon in her humble opinion.

"Oh Saul........I'm sorry." She whispered. That was all she could offer him, all her mind could wrap around their passion, chemistry, and heat. It was a sorry excuse for leaving, he deserved so much more. Perhaps, one day, he would find it. It......it just wouldn't be with her. A tear slid down her cheek as she quietly sniffed. It was time for her to go, for the last time. Grabbing her duffel bag that contained her things, she brought herself to the door of the bedroom.

Forcing herself, she looked back. "Bye Panther......." Tilting her head down, she left the silence of his scent, his passion, his essence behind her.

Duty was ever so cruel.

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Present Day:

Opening her eyes, she turned and her side as her gaze sunk to the floor. Her mind was soggy, forcing her to wonder why...in all places...memories of Saul would assault her, much like the Hydrans were doing. It wasn't fair. She was happy with Jonas, so much so, that it was scary. He was safe, secure, loving, and everything Bental was not. Steven meant support. Saul meant passion and secrets.

Why couldn't both of them be wrapped up in one man? They signified both extremes. Faylin had been faithful to Steven, despite his little tryst. A hint of anger sprung up like a coiled spring within her.

Her mouth, slowly fell downwards as the memory of his admission hit her like a ton of bricks once again. At least....with the Intelligence officer....they had been faithful to each other the short time they were together. Their relationship, in a nut shell, had been like a match igniting. Her and Steven's relationship had been the slow burn of the match after it had been lit.

Faylin's gaze held to the floor as she felt the magnetic pull and push that made her head swing in a negative manner. 'Damn it.' The woman muttered to herself. The battle that raged within her was starting again. The battle between prudent good and mistress evil. The darkness she felt as she raised her head somewhat and tilted it to the left was starting to overwhelm her. It was welcomed, yet pushed. She pushed away, it pushed back with memories of passion, lust, and having the ultimate power over men. It warmed her, called her, beckoned her to come back and be cradled in it's immense dramatic storyline.

Her head raised ever so slowly now as her hair slowly fell back down her back. An ever so slight darkness made her eyes appear mischievously dangerous as Faylin realized slowly....Steven Jonas was losing the battle for the stability of her soul.

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