"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Eighteen

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Raising his empty hands slowly John took a step back and flicked his eyes left and right to see where his people were, "Well, I'd be happy to listen to any ideas you have," he offered as he saw his people shift their positions slightly, "I mean there might not be any backup available for a while so we can try…"

"Try! Try!!! That is all you do, you try!" the still unnamed Romulan screamed at the marine, hearing the sound of weapons fire and explosions increase from over the hill he turned and scrambled up the slope.

Following, John reached the top just as the Romulan turned and aimed his rifle at him, "Human! Stay away from us. I would rather die with honor than trust your kind to watch my back! You waste my time and if you cannot support us with the army we need," what he was about to say next was lost in a bright flash of light and a roar of thunder as a substantial portion of the exposed area below exploded with a fury that sent an equally furiously hot wind howling across the open space pushing before it the loose rocks and dust in a brief storm that blinded everyone and seemed to suck the air from their lungs.

Falling flat on his back John blinked to get the dust out of his eyes as he rolled in what he hoped was the right direction to get away from the top of the hill. Opening his eyes after a moment he rubbed them for a second, but stopped as the sensation of scraping glass shards over his eyes brought him violently awake.

~ What the fuck! ~

"What did you do!" A voice screamed at him, "You used one of your bombs! What about my men!"

~ My bomb? Fast work! ~ Looking around he saw the Romulan clawing his way to the lip of the hillock and look over. Following his lead John looked over and saw the remnants of the Hydran advance in chaos, the trees for almost a kilometer in every direction had been flattened or singed by the blast and a massive fire was now burning in the forest. Below them the prepared positions the Rihan had been occupying were partly covered by the debris that had been flung their way, but it appeared most of them had been fortunate enough to survive. ~ Wha' was that!? ~

"My men! So this is your plan, kill the Hydrans and us, then you will have our world. I will 'NOT LET IT HAPPEN'!" the Rihan screamed as he launched himself at John.

~ Wha… ~ was about all he managed just as the crazed Romulan slammed into him and John was violently reminded of a very important fact about the typical Vulcanoid male. They were strong, at least three times as strong as the average Terran male. And a crazy one seemed to be a bit stronger.

"Ugh, ouch, fuck! Will. You. Get. Off!" John got out as they rolled down the hill.

Seizing what was probably going to be his only chance to get out of this brawl with his face and life intact John grabbed the Romulans pistol off his belt while his hands were busy elsewhere, namely trying to simultaneously throttle him and pound his face into a new hole in the ground. Arching his back he tried to throw the Romie off him as they rolled down hill.

Surprised and relieved as the maneuver unexpectedly worked John took a welcome deep breath and dug his heels in. Raising the disruptor pistol he aimed it at the Romulan as he slid to a stop. "Whoa, hold it!" he ordered, only to be ignored.

Picking up a rock the Romulan swung his arm back as if making to throw it. Realizing that a rock thrown by a Romulan could, and would, conceivably cave his skull in a hit, he did the only thing he could think of at that moment.

He pulled the trigger.

Watching as the now dead crazy Romulan toppled backwards and fell to the ground John took a deep breath, ~ These guys don't really have a decent stress screening system in place do they! ~ he thought sarcastically. Looking up from the corpse he saw a few of the other Romulans staring at him with traces of disbelief and anger. One of them, disregarding the weapon still trained on the body ran over and checked for life signs, "Admiral?"

~ Admiral? Whoops! ~

The planet of ch'Rihan was in chaos. The forces of the Hydrans lay siege with vast numbers, better weapons and control of the skies. They lacked one small thing however, that their enemies had. Passion. They fought for control of the world, yet the Rihannsu fought for their families, their friends, their lovers and their homeworld. They sacrificed their lives in the hope of staving off the Hydran threat, yet in the heart of the carnage, the center of the warzone people were the one commodity that was by far greater the single most important part of the war. People died, from admirals on the battle field to the elderly Rihanna who couldn't move his walking frame fast enough. People were the key and it was this notion they held in their hearts.

Of the many people involved in the great war that befell them, a minor few came together in the joys of Love, while others are split asunder as if struck by lightning. The very core of the values both the Rihannsu and Federation held dear were on the line against the Hydrans and these were the tests that one had to endure to survive; to become stronger for the challenges they faced. It was these trials that was taking place for one woman as she strove to survive the conflict that had enveloped her into its sickly web of hatred and destruction, greed and lust, thirst and hunger, life and death…

"Wait a minute!" she barked as Faylin brought up the rear of the group. Faylin steadied her weapon as the four d's stayed behind her, offering her deathly support in the most evil of ways. The single file line of Darkness, Death, Devil, and Destruction walked behind with leisure, the many facets of their capes puffed out behind them with style, and a morbid sense of grace.

"Wait a minute? She tells Marines to 'wait a minute'?" Destruction sighed. "That girl."

"She's mine." The Devil hissed.

Death waved nonchalantly in the air, rolling his eyes. "Everything is yours...... incoming." He brought his hand up in the air, constructing an invisible shield around McAlister.

Destruction smiled somewhat. "I always did love that shield Death." His emerald eyes rose to the small green glowing orb as it descended. "Ohhhh, it's a nasty bio/shrapnel one.....my favorite." The weapon exploded, right behind their favorite girl. Pieces of shrapnel appeared to bounce off her. They would have been dead, but the elements just dispirited and reappeared.

"That kinda stung." Destruction rubbed his cloaked butt.

"Whiner." Death looked over.

"Would you guys stop?" The Devil turned his attention back towards Faylin as she pumped three more rounds of phaser fire into an already dead Hydran. He grimaced somewhat. His expression changed, looking somewhat confused. "Death? How's Kreighoff?"

"Vic? He's fine. I'm still pissed he got promoted and I didn't." The pout that Death offered was not lost on the devil, who just grinned.

"He's much better at his job than you are." Darkness looked over, and nodded in agreement as Faylin fought her frustrations out of her. Another Hydran hit the ground; she tore at his suit, watching with fascination as the gas from the atmosphere worked their ways around the Hydran. "She's just not right in the head."

"Did you see how she blew Jonas out of the water? That Marine really needs to get some balls when dealing with her." The Devil's chest puffed out with pride.

"Well, geesh, you gave her balls the size of watermelons....how's anyone supposed to compete with that? You transformed her into a total witch." Destruction waved his hand and smiled as the ground before them erupted. "Besides, her sites are now set on another poor sap."

"Can you watch what your doing?" Death wined yet again. "That's the second time I've stepped on Hydran guts....it's gross." He lifted his foot, scowling at the mass of gunk on the bottom. "I just bought these things....."

The three others rolled their eyes. "And your death? Please player." The devil waved a hand at his mistress. She turned, narrowing her eyes at them. Staying silent, she turned back, focusing her attention on the path that destruction laid out for her to follow.

Destruction ripped up the ground again in front and behind him with a bored look on his hollow face. Death turned, and watched as a Marine tripped over a dirt pile. "Hey Destruction....care to tone it down a bit? You just caused a Marine to trip and phaser himself. I can't keep cleaning up your mess you leave behind. How about having some compassion for these people?" With a wave of his arm, he grabbed the Marine's soul by the throat, examining it with careful eyes. Pitching it upwards, he turned to look at Destruction with a single arched eyebrow.

Destruction's mouth hung open in disbelief. The Devil reached over, placing his index finger up under his partner's jaw and forced it shut. A flash of lighting from Destruction's eyes hit Death in the middle of the forehead. "Do I look like a fucking people person to you moron?"

"Aren't we a ray of damn sunshine?" Faylin sang out, keeping her eyes forward.

"Well, this shall lighten things up a little bit around here." The boney finger pointed to a red head that had seen more than her fare share of action. "I put ten souls on Faylin once she finds out who Kala is."

Destruction nodded. "Eh, I'm going for the red head. They are always more feistier."

"Usually. But then again, she's not dealing with a possessed she devil. No thanks to me." The Devil brushed at his crimson paisley vest as dust flew upwards.

Steven scanned the area, watching out for any Hydrans as he waited for the rest of the men to catch up. He had hardly seen any live Hydrans in the past few hours and with the number that was supposed to be on planet, it surprised him greatly. A slight buzzing sound reached his ears and he headed over to a pile of rubble to investigate

"Take a gander over there....." The devil turned his head in the direction of Jonas. "That's the guy...."

"The 'guy'?" Death questioned.

"Yes, Death. That's Jonas." Destruction just shook his head. "Are you a few bones short of a full skeleton today or something?"

The utter look of disdain that crossed Death's face made Darkness laugh out loud. He looked surprised, he clamped his gloved hand over his mouth and giggled with sheer delight.

Faylin looked back and spat. "Would you guys keep it down back there? Some of us are trying to fight a war...." She hoisted her phaser and shot.

"Cun...." Death stated with a hiss.

The Devil leaned over, smacking him on the cheek with his glove with an ancient English flair. "Have some respect."

With a flick of his wrist, he turned his attention back to Jonas. "Snap...the poor boy is about to realize something."

"Ohhhh....." Darkness's eyebrows shot up as all four elements stopped dead in their tracks...so to speak. "Snap? Death.....give me a break."

"Wait for it.........." The devil brought his hand up yet again.

As Steven got closer, he found the buzzing to be people talking, in Federation Standard no less. He climbed up the remains of the building to get a view of who it was. Boy was he in for a shock.

"Wait......................" Darkness's cape flew out behind him with a burst of dead wind.

Steven reached the top of the rubble and stopped suddenly, his jaw dropping like never before. Down the rubble and across a small courtyard stood the two women he hoped would never meet. The woman he loved and the Galaxy Engineer's sister. His heart sank at the thought of what Faylin, after she had a go at him earlier in the evening, would do

to the woman.

"Five bucks and my right testicle says he's going to shit himself." Death muttered.

The devil just smiled. "Here we go boys. Three, two, and....... one."

"Oh shit." he said quietly as he lowered his gaze in embarrassment. "Shit... shit... shit..." His legs became jelly and his heart pounded faster and faster as he found himself needing to sit down.

The four broke out in boisterous laughter, dark and sinister as they watched Steven's jaw.

"Gods...that was orgasmic." Death stated.

The other three stopped short and just stared at Death.

"Whhaaatttt?" He sighed, furrowing his brow and turned back to the work at hand. "It was."

"Sick." The Devil turned back to the scene with the lone Marine as the others circled around Faylin.

"Faith vs Truth, Part 1"

Tklenat J'oolak'k, brevet Commander, IHV Shield of Resolution

Main Bridge, IHV Shield of Resolution
=============================

Her reactor silenced, her weapons powerless and her shields down, the Shield of Resolution drifted helplessly over ch'Ricah, which once more looked like a blue-white pearl. The Hydran ship was silent except for the fear-spawned murmurs of her crew, and the shrill screams of her new Commander.

"WHAT'S HAPPENED? WHY ISN'T THE REACTOR WORKING?" Eyes wide, Tklenat J'oolak'k yelled at the bridge crew in the absolute darkness. The warship's circuitry didn't have a single ampere of power, and her temperature was falling quickly.

"Commander - the Federation's must have some form of Electromagnetic Pulse weapon our shielding couldn't handle. We're dead in space!

We're de..."

"DON'T YOU *DARE* SAY IT, SUB-LIEUTENANT! WE LIVE! AS DOES THE STARGOD THAT WILL DELIVER US!"

J'oolak'k struggled to control her breathing and regain her composure If needed, her faith and hers alone would save the Shield of Resolution from the weakness that Verati'ss had allowed to infect her... to corrupt her. Minutes stretched to small eternities in the silence, and the Commander could hear the whispers of prayers... and curses.

Both became screams when the Shield of Resolution was struck by Federation phaser fire.

Inertial dampeners offline, each member of the crew was thrust hard to the nearest surface to port as the Hydran carrier reeled from the Galaxy's sustained firepower. The Shield of Resolution began to list sickeningly towards the Rihansu homeworld when a series of smaller explosions erupted from within her fighter hold. As planned, the Galaxy's phasers pierced the carrier's hold and destroyed the bulk of her precious fighter wings.

Peeling herself from the bridge's deck, J'oolak'k felt her own fighter die as a cold chill raced up her spines. ~This can't be happening! We were delivered! It was written! WRITTEN!" Her three eyes, accustomed to the absolute darkness, recoiled when the lights flickered back on. The sound of emergency klaxons pierced the silence and the stabilizers once again allowed the Hydran crew to move freely.

"DAMAGE REPORT!"

"Commander - the fighter bay has experienced multiple direct hits.

Much of our ordnance was taken out by phaser fire. Launchers... are inoperable. Shield generators to aft are inoperable. Warp nacell two is dam..."

"WEAPONS? WHAT ABOUT THE WEAPONS?"

"Hellbore cannons... are still operational."

~Then we are not lost. This is... a test. The Stargod tests us!~ "TARGETS?"

"The heavy cruiser that struck us is heading bearing two-seven-zero mark fifteen - we can fire on her aft, but her shields are intact - the Hellbore cascade won't do much damage. There is another group at forty-three mark eighty-eight - a massive Federation dreadnought flanked by escort destroyers. She's been struck by Fusion-beam fire... and the Stargod persues her!"

J'oolak'k, wide eyed and breathing hard, knew what that once again, the great Fazzu-ur has shown the way. "FIRE ON THE DREADNOUGHT! ALL HELLBORES FIRE!"

Foam and spittle flew from the Commander's beak and a riteous glaze covered her three eyes as she beheld the target of her god's fury.

Ensign T'Jaden "TJ" Tagra, Engineering Officer, USS Miranda
Jacen McAlister, Civilian Bartender, USS Miranda, npc

Deck 39, Main Engineering

The Hydrans where learning, that wasn't a good sign. Their Hellbores had stopped firing at the Romulan and Federation ships and focused on the Klingon, Reman and Lyran. TJ tried to remodulate the shields, both modified and standard, but the T'Kith'Kin technology was to, well, alien.

Everything started popping, blowing out and sparking. Down on the main floor, it was chaos. People running and barking orders. TJ did what he could, but considering that his redesign was of no major use at the moment, he got up to head down and lend a hand. If the Hydrans became desperate, or just didn't give a shit, and started up with the Hellbores again, then he'd head back.

He started down the ladder when the ship rocked...hard.

He held on tightly, not wanting a repeat of last time. Unfortunately, that hope didn't have the will power to stop consoles from exploding and fellow crew from getting injured all over again. Klaxons blared as reports came in from all over. Then someone shouted about power being rerouted to Deck 14.

His mind racing, TJ slid down the ladder and ran over to the nearest operational console. He ran a scan for life-signs in his quarters. His Starfleet training screamed at him not to do something that was so personal and emotionally motivated. He had a duty after all.

But his duty to his mate, his Zhian'shee'tara, over powered his training and taught duty to Starfleet. Sometimes cultural duties did that. Being part Bajoran was all TJ really ever knew. His homeworld, Earth, was all he knew. Not knowing his Trill father left an emptiness in him. Granted, his mother did all she could to fill him with knowledge of the Trill, but not having a true connection left him feeling isolated. Now he had that connection and Prophets be damned, he was NOT going to lose it so easily.

The scans showed nothing.

He scanned for Jacen's commbadge. Nothing, internal sensors where fuzzy at best.

TJ felt his heart being ripped out. His world shrank as he collapsed to his knees. The Dominion War only touched him at San Francisco during The Raid. He missed the Shinzon Incident by sheer weeks due to his transfer. He'd been lucky, they both had been so lucky.

Then it hit him. The one thing that separated him and Jacen. The one thing that made them unique, Zhian'shee'tara Dor'vahla.

He reached out with his mind, following instinct. He never spoke, only used thought this time, Jacen? Do you hear me?

Nothing.

Dammit Smoothnose ANSWER ME!!!

Then it came, You don't have to yell you know. I thought you had work to do?

TJ smiled and laughed, not caring who saw. Spots, what's wrong? I can feel your emotions this time. TJ just focused himself, I couldn't find you on internal sensors. They said they had to reroute power to Deck 14. He could feel Jacen's emotions, knew how much he felt relieved that TJ thought of him during the height of battle, I'm fine. My commbadge was damaged just now by that last hit, mainly cuz I fell into a bulkhead, but I'm fine. I'm on Deck 13 helping with some fires, the suppression system is down again in this section.

TJ was up and verifying the problem. The entire system shorted out in that section and the surrounding two. He refocused on Jacen, I'm beyond relieved your alright. Finish what your doing and I'll finish down here. Jacen responded without hesitation, You do that. And when this is over, I plan on finding out how much fun this is in a more...naked situation. TJ just smirked, Freak.

TJ just heard Jacen's laughter fade away as his mind became his own again.

Repair crew where already being dispatched throughout the ship and TJ headed back to his post. He networked with several stations and helped reroute power, direct the repair crews and feed any available power to the shields. But if the feed from CIC was right, the Starbeast was dead and that just made his job a little easier.

Now if he could just find some extra power sitting around, then maybe he could get the shields and cannon up to full.

"Now if we can just get the Hydrans to fire a few Hellbores," he muttered. He stopped once he realized what he just said, never thinking he'd ever say that.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Nineteen

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Clutching his face in his hands, Steven didn't bother to stop the tears that started forming at the corner of his eyes. "Please Fay, don't do anything stupid." he whispered to the air.

"My princess does nothing stupid." Death whispered back.

Steven rose from his seat, prepared to go and talk to Faylin. Though he was nervous at the thought of walking up to the two women, he didn't think it wise to leave them alone with each other for too long. He started up the mount of rubble again and saw them both walking off towards the city center together, weapons drawn, scanning the area as they went. He climbed the last little bit and was about to go down the other side when the voice of Private VanDuren behind him made him stop.

"Hey el-tee," Amy called out. "Thought you were gonna wait for us?"

Steven wiped the last of the tears from his face and turned to greet her. Faylin and Kala would have to wait. "Just checking what was up here VanDuren." Steven smiled. "What took you so long?"

As Lieutenant Jonas descended the rubble, she relayed her news. "I found an old friend, as we made our way through one of the buildings. I think you might know her."

Steven looked from Amy to the newcomer as he reached Amy's position. He beamed a giant smile at the sight of Norma Jean. It had been too long since he had seen her. Not since he had been shot, before the Hydrans arrived. "Norma Jean!" he said throwing his arms wide.

Norma Jean looked up at the voice. She knew it, and smiled as soon as she saw Steven's beaming face. "Hey el-tee. I missed you." Despite the sling on her broken left arm, she walked over, placed the hand phaser into its holster on her belt and hugged him with her right arm. "Sir, this is Lieutenant Damon Rice." She indicated the male standing next to her. She turned to Damon, "Damon, this is my CO, Lieutenant Steven Jonas."

"Nice to meet you, Damon." Steven said extending his hand to the fair haired man.

Damon took Steven's hand in his and shook it firmly. He had heard a lot about the man before him and had wanted to meet him for some time, "Nice to meet you as well. If you don't mind my saying, I heard you were wounded and airlifted back up to the fleet."

Nitro stood watching the way ahead, his rifle at the ready as he scanned the nooks and crannies that lined the ruins of the street. Being on point had its responsibilities. The Hydrans could be anywhere, waiting to pick them off. And now that he and Amy had found Norma Jean and the other el-tee, there were more people to protect, and more to help keep an eye out for the Hydran scum.

Steven shot a glance at Norma Jean, cocking his head slightly. He saw her blush and turn her head away and couldn't help but smile. After the big argument that had happened earlier between him and Faylin, he didn't know where they stood anymore, but despite that he was glad that someone had found happiness on this rock. "I was, prior to the Hydrans arriving, but I returned some time ago."

Amy scooted over, her hair tied back in a ponytail as usual. "Sir," she started, then remembering that there were two Lieutenants now in the group, she corrected herself, "Sirs, Nitro wants to know how long we give the others before we go look for their worthless butts?" Just like Johnnie; she was impatient at just standing around when there were bucket loads of Hydrans to kill now that the fleet was back and hopefully taking care of any potential reinforcements that they might send down.

"It is illogical to assume that we are worthless just because we were detained." Vosak's deadpan voice carried across the small road to the assembled troops, as he and Kick appeared from a side alley.

Niklass just smiled. It was good to hear the banter after all the battles. It reminded him that they were a family first and foremost. A strange and fucked up family, but a family anyway.

Amy looked over and smiled. "What took you guys so long?" She poked her tongue out at her pointy eared comrade.

"Making facial expressions like that do nothing to improve your beauty, Amy!" He retorted back, giving everyone a good chuckle.

Amy turned red, but then joined in.

Even Steven, his thoughts still over the hill of rubble and down the street, joined in. Damn he had missed the guys. And girls, he corrected. Even in this hellhole of a war, they found time to make jokes.

As the laughter died down, and Damon introduced himself to Furji and Vosak, Steven looked each in the eyes and then indicated with hand gestures that they were to move out north; towards the Old market Squares that was supposed to be the rally point. Nitro and Amy took point, heading out in front of the rest, with Vosak and Steven bringing up the rear.

"Hi Norma Jean." Niklass called out quietly. "Haven't seen you since the checkpoint. How have you been?"

"Been good Kick. I helped out at the shelter, feeding the little Romulan kids," she glanced over at Damon and smiled, "and keeping the generators working. Killed many Hydrans?"

"I've seen my share bite the dust." he replied, switching his rifle to his left hand to reach for his water bottle.

Steven watched as the team made their way through the war torn streets. The area was devoid of living Hydrans and he had begun wondering if another team had been down the street before them. They walked in silence, save for the whispered talking between Norma Jean and Niklass, both seemingly eager to hear what the other had been up to. Steven on the other hand was getting a weird vibe about the place, but couldn't put his finger on it. Then it came to him. This had been the street he had been on when he had been shot those few weeks before, when Lia had saved his life. Yes that was what it was. And it scared him to think that he was back again.

Chaos erupted as a shot was heard and a beam of light came from a pile of rubble and caught one of their number in the chest; felling them. Return fire rang out from Amy and then Nitro as they tried to take out the Hydran that was camping out in the rubble off to the side. They had both missed him as they had scouted, but were not going to let him do any more damage. Seeing two scaly hands go up in surrender, they moved in to secure the Hydran.

Damon had been standing next to Norma when the shot rang out. He hadn't seen the Hydran until it had been too late. Norma Jean had however, seen him lining up the shot and dived in-front of Damon, to take the shot aimed at him.

As Norma Jean slipped to the ground, Damon knelt down and tried to stop the bleeding. It oozed from her chest as she gasped for breath, dripped from the corner of her mouth as she looked up at the man she loved. She knew her time was up and smiled weakly at Damon as she caressed his jaw with her blood soaked hand, "I love you." she whispered.

Tears flowed from Damon's eyes as he tried valiantly to save her. Though he knew there was nothing he could do. Looking into her loving eyes, he returned the words, "I love you too."

As Kick and Vosak secured the area and the two hard-assed marines secured the Hydran, Steven stood watching the events unfold, unable to move. He was shaken beyond belief. So in shock was he that his body refused to move, even though the impulses were firing off throughout his body, telling the limbs and muscles to do their jobs. There on the ground, not three feet from where Norma Jean lay, he could see a light patch in the earth, a smattering of reddish dirt. It was almost washed away now, but he knew in his gut that it was his. Blood. Spilled from his belly when the Hydran had attacked him, three weeks prior, in this very spot.

And then another player entered the area, one that no one could see but for Norma Jean as she lay on her deathbed, and surprisingly the man she loved more than anything; Damon.

"No! Stay away. You can't have her!" Damon said loudly as he saw the shrouded figure approach.

He took a step, the cape immersed his identity with everything, however, Death had a certain mannerism, a certain smell and a certain aura that could not and would not be denied. "It's time." His quiet voice and tone was chilling yet peaceful at the same time.

"I don't care! I love her and you can't have her!"

Steven looked around. He couldn't see who Damon was talking to, "Are you alright Damon?" he asked.

Damon didn't hear Steven; he was focused on the 'creature' before him trying to get at Norma Jean, "Leave her alone!"

"I'm not going anywhere. It is her time." Death hissed.

Steven looked from Damon, to the emptiness of the area where he was looking and then down to Norma Jean who was, in one of her last acts, looking over at the same empty area. Steven was puzzled, but then he had also seen Fay talking to nothing as well. Was there something there that only they could see? He was so confused!

Damon looked up at Death for a moment before speaking quietly. "You promise she will not feel any pain or misery?"

"She will not. I am but a shepherd. I take my flock to place where they belong. I will guide her, protect her soul and escort her." Death placed a hand on Damon's shoulder with a fatherly, gentle touch.

Damon nodded, before turning to Norma Jean, who was now looking at him. "I love you Norma" he leaned down and kissed her blood coated lips for the last time as she breathed her final breath and slipped into the everlasting sleep known as death.

One step forward, Death leaned forward to Norma. He pressed his hand tightly up against her heart, transcending her earthly flesh. Gently, he pulled the white glowing soul orb from her, her body slumped slightly in peace as he held the orb in his large, ominous hand.

"Will I see her again?" Damon asked, as the tears flowed.

"I do not know the time or place, but, we are all united at some point in time Damon." He took a step backwards, descending into a mist of black, the white orb floating freely, yet still protected in the mist as it rose to the dark of night.

Damon traced her face with his finger tips before turning towards her killer, the Hydran being held by VanDuren and Capolino, anger seething in his veins.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

As the first bare-handed punch hit the Hydran, Amy felt the power and anger of it ripple up her arm and she lost hold of the foul creature.

Damon didn't care that Amy had released it, for he was intent on giving it the same as it had given him: grief and pain.

Repeatedly he punched the creature, one fist after the other, each hit damaging the Hydran more and more. Its wails of pain went unnoticed by the grieving marine as he continued his assault. As the Mask flew from the Hydrans face and it began trying to draw breath, Damon paid it no concern as he slammed his now cut and bruised fists into its face.

A Phaser burst went off and the Hydran slumped, lifeless, to the ground, its chest now a hollow empty cavity.

Damon turned; ready to murder the bastard who had killed his prey.

Steven took a step backwards, at the sight of the hatred in his eyes. "Damon, I had to." he explained, "What you were doing does no one any good. It is not Starfleet's way; it is not my way and it sure as hell isn't your way."

"Who the hell are you to say what is and isn't my way?" Damon snarled.

Steven looked down at Norma Jean's corpse. "Would she have wanted you to do what you were doing?"

Damon looked from Steven to Norma Jean and back again. Shaking his head he made his way over to her, knelt down next to her and took her hand in his as the tears flowed again.

Steven wiped the tears from his eyes and looked down at the grieving lieutenant as his thoughts drifted to Faylin and what he'd do if she got shot.

As Amy took watch, Niklass made his way over to Lieutenant Rice and squeezed his shoulder in support. "She was a good soldier and a great technician. We will honor her in our prayers."

Johnnie stood watching the proceedings after Steven had stopped the el-tee's attack on the Hydran. He had thought about stepping in, since even though they were the enemy, no one deserved that kind of assault, but part of him had been glad that the Hydran was suffering. He had just begun to like the Maintenance Technician. She had a lot of guts and was a wizz on the Furies gear. And now she was dead. Yet another casualty of this god forsaken war. What was it now, 18 - 19 Furies dead? He had lost track a week ago.

A noise drew his attention and he climbed a debris hill to investigate.

"Sir," he called out, "There are two women fighting!"

Steven looked up suddenly. It couldn't be... Could it? "Does one of them have red hair?"

"Fiery red hair, sir!" He replied.

Steven motioned for him to return to the group, "Kick, you have command. I have to go deal with that." Seeing his expression, he explained, "Long story. I'll tell you later some time. Take Damon and Norma Jean's body to the rendezvous. I'll catch up when I can."

Niklass nodded. "Yes sir."

Steven turned in the direction that Nitro had been. He had to stop them from fighting. He was the cause, so it fell to him to stop it before it got any worse.

Down the road and over the embankment of rubble Faylin McAlister's voice could be heard clearly over the rise in weapons fire as a group stood, rifles trained on the Hydrans that began to swarm the streets of the western corner of the Square.

"So, you're the bitch Steven fucked?" Faylin's eyes opened as she scanned Kala up and down.

Kala turned her head slowly to look upon the face of the voice just as another grenade landed nearby, exploding in a shower of debris. Crouching down she frowned wondering what the hell this woman wanted at a time like this. I mean come on, who goes round in the middle of a war zone with their own personal vendetta?

Over the unnatural embankment made up of rubble the Hydrans massed at the end of the road. She and Michael had made it to the Old Market Square in the heart of Ki Baratan, unfortunately they were being followed by the biggest dam group of Hydrans she had ever seen. Luckily there had been a platoon of Federation marines in the square, a bunch of slightly bored marines at that. She did wonder momentarily if they were ever satisfied with their kill counts.

Now that they were here, they were pinned down. The Hydrans massed around the Square and for a time Kala wondered if this was the best of places to run to. Yet as the battle rose in fierceness she was relived to realize that they did have the upper hand. With a unit at each corner of the square and sharp shooters in the windows of what remained of the buildings, they were doing pretty well for themselves.

The Hydran kept coming, and they just kept knocking em down.

Her rifle trained on a group advancing up the street she shrugged at the comment from the raved haired woman and stood back up, poking her head just over the embankment for long enough to get a mark, she fired a salvo from her phaser rifle, her face stoic as she concentrated, she wasn't about to reply to such a remark at a time like this. She sighed inwardly, if it wasn't one conflict of a sort it was another. Shaking her head she pulled the trigger and fired again.

"Cat fight." Came the quiet reply from one of the four onlookers.

Kala scowled at the retort. Glancing behind her she saw the woman still standing there, puffing out her chest, wanting answers. Hadn't this woman ever heard of priorities? Talk about inappropriate! Sighing yet again she looked to Michael, quite frankly she didn't want him to hear any of this. He was a few meters away, looking through a hole in the rubble. She had to admit that he had surprised her over the last few hours. From the sap she met that could barley hold his weapon, let alone fire it, to a marksman of precision. It was uncanny and frankly scary the capabilities that war induced in the fight to stay alive. She hadn't seen him miss a shot for the last three hours. Not all were kill shots mind, he did have to try more than once on some occasions to make the bastards take their blows, but still, even if it was one of their feet, he hadn't missed a target. Scary!

Scrambling from her position she slid down the rubble and shale to be on a more even keel with the woman before her. Hitching her rifle on her shoulder she flicked on the safety catch on and then finally let her eyes wonder over the form of the bitch in front of her. Cocking her hip to the side in a mocking stance she smiled slightly. "What do you want?"

"Thought so." Without warning, Faylin brought her elbow up right under Kala's chin then pivoted violently, bringing her left hook right across Kala's porcelain cheek.

Her rifle flew from her grasp as she staggered backwards. Her body lurched to the side from the momentum of the hit and for a moment she stayed in that bent over position holding her jaw. Her face tingled, warm and fuzzy. She had not expected that. She wasn't sure what to say or even do at this point. Standing up to her full height she took a moment to compose herself and assess the situation.

Okay she had slept with the woman's boyfriend. She didn't know Steven was attached, and to a crazy bitch at that. But then if someone had slept with her man she would be pissed too. So okay, the hit was just, in a way. She deserved it. Kala knew how to take her blows. She nodded slightly to herself, "Look," she began, "I am sorry, I didn't know he was your boyfriend, he didn't tell me." she explained as she retrieved her rifle from where it had scuttled across the floor. Thinking that they were done she glanced back up at the fuming woman and balked slightly from the expression of pure hatred that emanated from her.

"Hey I said I was sorry. How was I supposed to know? It's not like he has a sign on him or anything. And besides isn't it him you should be having words with about this. He is after all the one who withheld important information. I didn't."

"Spare me the excuses whore." McAlister spat. "Why didn't you find someone else who was screwable? Why my....man?" A right hook connected with the other woman's gut.

~Oh no!~ Kala thought as she doubled over with the fist in her stomach. Gasping as the air was forced from her lungs she eventually grabbed the woman's wrist and pushed her backwards to the floor. She wasn't going to go all out on this woman, she was obviously upset and been through a lot, and some people just couldn't handle themselves at a time of stress. Keeping an eye on her as she once more picked up her weapon, holding her bruising belly she nodded crisply, "We're done." she stated in a low voice.

Faylin flew back, a puff of dust emitted from the spot she landed upon. A slight snarl later, McAlister was up on her feet in short order. More determined then ever to teach this woman a lesson. Hell, who would care....they could just blame their wounds on battling Hydrans.

"That's it?" McAlister drew her hand up, wiping the blood away from the corner of her mouth.

The Devil stepped forward, only to be held back by Darkness. "Let her fight her own fight." His tone was ominous.

Kala frowned, "Yes that's it." she replied getting slightly agitated and twitchy, "This is not the time or place." she scolded. "Now you have had your pot shots, and I have taken my blows. Neither of us can change what happened, what's done is done. Now that's it." she took a step forward, "I accept what has happened here for what it is. It's over and done. You touch me *again* and I'll take you out. You got that?"

Faylin's index finger sailed through the air, lightly landing on Kala's arm. "Touched ya, are you going to take me out now?" The arched eyebrow and innocent expression was almost humorous considering their surroundings. Faylin stood, the Hydran fighting had lulled somewhat, at least enough to finish what she had started.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-one

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Kala shook her head, "You have the maturity of a five year old." she countered shaking her head in disgust as she turned away. She wasn't going to let herself be goaded by this arrogant harpy. Flicking her rifle back up into her hands she began to ascend the rubble pile and return to her firing position.

"At least I don't have the body of a five year old!" Faylin spat as she kicked up some dirt with her foot. She lurched forward, pushing the woman back as hard as she could. A slight satisfied urge washed over her as the symmetry of the fall and the expression on Kala's face gelled. It was just down right pretty.

~You have to be kidding me!~ Kala moaned as she stumbled from the impact the stone made with her head. She winched as she brought her hand to her head and tenderly probed the smarting spot. That was gonna bruise like a bitch. Her lip curled as a low growl rumbled in her throat. She shook her head sinisterly as her eyes stared at the ground.

She chucked her rifle strap over her head and twisted the weapon round to rest across her spine. ~That's it!~ a voice full of anger raged with in Kala, she spun round fast her tornado movements causing the dust to rise around her.

In a flash, Faylin felt herself sailing back yet again. Sighing as she landed, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stumbled up. At this point, even in a war zone, when two women chose their battle, men are likely to sit back and enjoy the ride. However short it may be. McAlister leaned back, steeling her fists for a barrage of punches, kicks, and any other type assault that might come flying down the pike next. The JAG officer prayed that the class in defensive maneuvers would come in handy....or at least, she could remember enough to save her ass if this got any deeper.

Kala stepped back as the woman came in to assault her, blocking the blows with her arms in a well practiced manor. For a moment Kala actually stifled a yawn. She really wasn't afraid of the woman and her fighting skills, well they were all right, if one of them connected it might actually hurt, but not that much; Kala had been sparing with Klingons since she was 13 for crying out loud! After a few more blocks, Kala threw her body forward into the TAG officer, having enough of the seemingly paw like movements from her.

'Rot Ruh.' McAlister thought as the woman charged at her. Ducking to the side, she managed to avoid the she witch, but tripped over a damn mound of dirt Destruction had left there earlier. Falling with her face right in the dirt, she spit and sputtered as she rolled over. Faylin found herself face to face with the red head, as Kala was strattled on top of her. 'Lovely.' She winced as she felt the first blow to her left eye.

Kala didn't stop there, if this prissy little thing wanted a fight she would sure as hell give her one that she wouldn't forget! Might teach her a few things about picking a fight with a Klingon trained warrior!

"If you and that worthless prick are an item, why did it take him three days to mention your name huh?" Kala yelled as her iron left hook cracked Faylins jaw.

"If you meant sooooo much to him, why did he tell me about you *after* we screwed?" she shouted over the grunting of the woman.

"That's how worthless you are!" she shirked, "You're a fuckin' after thought!" she actually paused then to laugh at the stupid woman beneath her.

Bolting her back in a arching manner, she was able to bring one foot up, plant it on Kala's abdomen and push off and out from underneath her. At this point, Faylin's beauty was erased by bruises, swelling, and blood. Looking at her sparring partner, Faylin smiled.... Kala faired somewhat better, but not much at this point.

Staggering up, she charged, only to have someone grab her by the waist. Her body bent, her mind willing to charge, but what ever or whom ever was stopping her had more strength at this point. "I'm not finished with you bitch!" The raven haired woman bellowed. "I'll make it so you never sleep with taken men again!"

Kala staggered to her feet and wiped the blood from her cut lip, "Yeah," she replied her eyes narrowing on the woman, "you just fuckin try it and I'll fuck you up so much that you will be eating through a straw for the rest of your life." she approached the contained woman, venom in her stare, hatred laced in every footstep, "Believe me no amount of reconstruction surgery will be able to amend the damage that I will do to you." She paused a meter from her and tilted her head to one side, "Ya know I would recommend you a better surgeon than you obviously already have," she mockingly winced slightly at Faylin, "But ya see hon, I am naturally beautiful, in every situation," she emphatically gestured to their surroundings, "so you see sweetie pie, I don't have one. But good luck with that."

He had just been with a young marine as she laid on her death bed, yet another casualty of the damned war, and then the commotion nearby started which drew Steven's attention. And now he stood, holding Faylin by the waist, trying to keep her from trying to kill Kala. "Easy Fay, you need to calm down."

"Bite me!" She spat. "Let go of me....I want her!" She lurched again, attempting to break out of the strong vice like grip Steven held on her.

"What will getting her do for you? Will you get satisfaction? Or feel relief?" He said as calmly as he could as she strained to get free.

"Yes...." She spat yet again and lurched.

As no one reached out to contain Kala, seemingly forgetting her Klingon upbringing and the fact that she should kill Faylin for the challenge she had inadvertently begun with her first hit, she swiftly advanced and went to slug the cow.

Steven turned Fay away from the oncoming blow and took it on his shoulder. "Would the pair of you stop this now! You're acting like school girls fighting over the Team's Quarterback."

"Oh please Steven! She's the freaking tackle who sacked the quarterback! Let me go!" She wiggled against him some more, purely infuriated at this point. Glancing down, she noticed his foot, desiring to stomp on it, but chose not to.

"That may be, but at the moment, it is the other team we need to be targeting. And not our own players."

"So what?" She spat.

"I just saw one of my young marines die not ten minutes ago and you two were here bickering while she bled to death on the ground." He hoped that this was going to settle them down. It was the truth after all; one of his young charges had just died. And it had been heart wrenching to watch.

"Life sucks Steven. What do you want me to do about that?" Faylin settled, the grossness of her tone was shocking to everyone around her, except for four dark figures who just smiled at the nasty reply.

"I want you, to stop fighting and grow up. A young woman died, as her lover knelt helpless, unable to do anything for her and you fight each other. Your friends and comrades are fighting and dying out there and you two want to fight! Over me! It's ridiculous." He released her. "You know what... go ahead, kill each other. I'm sick of the

pettiness you are both displaying, and if you want to have any self respect left at the end of the war, you'd pick up your weapons and start killing the fucken Hydrans like everyone else." With that he turned and walked off to where Furji was leading the unit. And Faylin and Kala could both go to hell if they couldn't see past their giant egos.

"Yeah, it is ridiculous that I actually cared enough about you too Steven, isn't it?" Turning on her heel, she left the scene, the pain all over her body was nothing in relation to the pain she felt in her soul....or....what was once her soul.

Kala was left just standing alone, she looked into the wake of Steven and then to the direction Fay had stalked off in. "Firstly I would like to point out that I was defending myself…." she shouted into the air, "secondly … Oh who gives a fuck anyways!" Picking up her rifle she rejoined the troops, no one seemed to give a toss what she thought.

As the minutes ticked by till midnight, Ki Baratan sure as hell was not quiet. As Kala, Faylin and Steven returned to their respective positions, overlooking the roads that lead to the Square, several skirmishes broke out, though nothing major.

It was something else that stood out this night. The atmosphere grew tense with anticipation as they sat watching the roads, bathed in the lights from the assaults above; it was like you could almost touch it. There were people coming out from behind the protection of ruins, from underground, from the strangest of places. And not only soldiers, but civilians too.

They all had something in common; they were fighting to free Romulus of its conquerors. With the knowledge that the Fleet had returned and were fighting hard in the skies above, they all knew one thing: this would be the night on which they would launch the final assault against the Hydrans. In their attempt to drive them away, they gathered everything they could find, every piece of weaponry; from all the heights of technologies down to the rudimentary that the commoner had at his disposal, even if it was only a rake! Every capable man and woman arose to join the last stand.

This was it...right here, right now. If anything, this day would go down in history as the day where the Federation and it allies said, "No further!"

"Someone's getting their ass kicked up there."

Looking up at the sky in the general direction Tiffany was looking Artak grunted an agreement absently, "'bout time they showed up." was the only comment he made before returning his attention to the street before them. "I don't like it," the Sergeant said more to himself, indicating a couple of buildings down the street, he looked to the troops behind him and nodded, "before we move, level them if you would. They have far too good a vantage point for my liking."

"On it Sarge." the young Private said as he unlimbered the photon launcher and loaded a missile. Waiting for everyone to back off he took careful aim over the rubble he was laying on and fired.

With a loud whoosh the charge was propelled to a significant velocity and buried itself into the side of the building next door to the one Artak had been worried about. ~ They did warn me! ~ he thought as an explosion tore the building apart, as well as several either side, ~ his aim 'is' shite, but with that thing, it doesn't really matter! ~

Streaks of plasma fire erupted from several nearby buildings; trained on the area Artak and the heavy weapon specialist were crouching. Grabbing the back of the privates armor Artak dragged him down behind cover, "Fire, then 'Drop'!" he reminded the scared

Bolian.

"Got it Sarge."

~ Kids! ~ Aware they had stirred up a hornets nest of Hydrans he tapped his commbadge, "Artak to all units, covering fire, take the bastards out!" he ordered, looking at the private he nudged him, "Load up soldier, plenty more buildings where those ones came from." Watching as fire erupted from various locations; Federation, Romulan and just about any sort of weapon they had been able to find were in use by the people with him. These people were pissed, and they were about to start kicking back.

~ I would not want to be a Hydran today! ~ he decided.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-two

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

Waiting and watching a moment he let the troops shower the buildings before them with fire. They weren't specifically trying to hit anything, though killing a Hydran was always nice, their job was to draw the fire. Making them reveal their position just made them all the easier to kill.

Tapping the heavy weapon specialist on the back Artak pointed, "Right hand side, half way down. Anything beyond that is fair game," he ordered, "give me ten then start a little demolition going down there. Clear."

"Clear Sarge," laying out a handful of charges he got ready to lay down a barrage at the other end of the street.

Sliding back down the mound of rubble Artak joined the rabble there. Mostly Romulans, and civilian Romulans at that they were all gathered around a flat piece of rubble that was serving at their table. "Okay, covering fire has started," he said unnecessarily, "and the Hydrans are in retreat, pulling back, so let's keep them on the move." pointing at one Romulan whose name he hadn't remembered, "Take your people and get behind these buildings," indicating one street on the map, "be careful, there may well be Hydrans out and about, so use sewers or cellars, anything you can, blow holes in the walls if you need, but stay out of sight! Move in and fire at their rear, drive them into the square ahead." Looking to another Romulan he indicated a different street, "Same plan but this street, let's bottle the bastards up in this area here up ahead, then we can surround them and fry their asses. Move out."

"And us?" the only Romulan Senior Centurion present asked as the civilians left rapidly, "While these civilians do the dangerous house to house fighting what will we be doing?"

"They should be pretty safe." Artak reassured him, "Most of the Hydrans in our area seems to be on this street." pointing at the street that was currently the scene of a major fight before them, "Those guys will distract them a little, get them to spread out their forces and wonder where the hell we are."

"And just where the hell are we?" the Centurion asked, repeating the vernacular but obviously not understanding the reference.

~ Up shit creek with no frelling paddle! ~ Artak thought sourly, "We, are going to level this street," he said calmly, "no finesse, no fancy house to house and no hand to hand. We'll take out any building they're hiding in and let the graves registration unit figure out who they were later."

"Simple, direct and effective." the Centurion said with a smile, "a pity really, this is one of the oldest parts of the city."

"Would you rather go house to house to clear them out?" Artak asked.

"I'd rather find another launcher and help tear it down," he answered with a grin, "buildings can be rebuilt."

~ A man after my own heart! ~ "Once we start they should go running into the square up ahead, by then the civilians should be in a position to take some of them out, then we move in."

"Let's blow some buildings up then."

As men and women died, as buildings fell like a tower of playing cards, the officers of Starfleet and the people of ch'Rihan rose to repel the invading Hydran forces. Old men, young boys, women of all ages, they all turned out, armed by the resistance from the supplies hidden in the secret weapon caches. On they marched, across the city herding the Hydrans away from their city towards the oblivion that awaited them up in their fleet.

Rihannsu warriors stood side by side with Federation diplomats, young boys, not old enough to know the joys of dating or the rigors of military life stood next to their parents. It was spectacular display of unity, they marched ever on, shooting any Hydran they found. Hundreds died, but where one fell, two more rose to fill the gap. So eager were they to defeat the Hydrans and reclaim their planet that they were all, to a man (and woman) willing to die for their freedom. House rivalries were swept under the carpets, inter species differences were cast aside and they fought for their freedom, like many before them on all manner of battlefields throughout the galaxy.

A group of Rihannsu men, mostly experienced warriors with the odd young boy, led by a Starfleet marine moved through one small street, clearing the houses one by one. As they neared a cross roads, they spotted a dozen Hydrans entrenched behind some makeshift barricades on the other side of the street. Taking up cover, they fired upon the three-eyed beasts. Steven watched from his position as one and then a second Rihannsu warrior fell before their return fire. One Hydran, however was not firing, and in between shots, Steven noticed he was talking into a device similar to the Starfleet communicator. A moment later they were gone. Every one of the Hydrans had vanished.

"Keep vigilant. It may be a trick." Steven called out as the men fanned out watching in all directions.

Several streets over, a young woman contemplated what the war had cost…

The blood from her wounds had long since dried, its crust, a reminder to the story of that part of her life that had been created on this planet. As she caught first glimpse of the ultimate destruction she helped create, she glanced upwards at Destruction. His face, almost as grim as hers as he looked down from above her. His eyes sent her the realization that she was not the only one that had gotten hurt emotionally or physically. In some odd sense, Faylin thought that she saw a slim ere sadness in his violet eyes. Just a flash, just for a mere second in time......the woman thought......as she turned back slowly to the blood soaked war zone that had been home for so long.

Closing her eyes, a single, solitary tear caressed her cheek as her mind flooded with the memories that caused her to sell her soul for her survival. It all made sense now. Just how could she have survived a building falling on her? A gloved hand, wiped the tear away, causing McAlister to gasp. She just sold her soul. Her one and only prized possession that no one could take away, she sold it to live.

She felt raw emotion boil within her. He stood silently beside her as she shoved him away, repeatedly. He did not budge. His expression silently stoic, with a single turn downwards of his head, his eyes steeled against Faylin.

He said nothing, just shook his head back and forth in a negative way.

Yet, despite the destruction, two tiny hopes of life clung to her that she was not aware of yet. The Devil knew more than she did and more than Steven did. The tiny cells that fed off of the body he protected would be making their presence known soon…

"Do you know the Muffin Man?"

Ensign Zev Raynor - Terran Telepath
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

Location: UNKNOWN (Hydran Lab)

-----

<"Talk or I'll take your nose and I won't give it back.">

<"NO. Not my nose, anything but my nose.">

<"Then tell me what I want to to KNOW.">

<"Alright, alright I'll tell you... Do you know the Muffin man?">

<"The Muffin man?">

<"THE MUFFIN MAN!">

<"Yes, I know the muffin man... who lives on dreary lane?">

<"Well… she's married to the muffin man.">

<"The Muffin man?">

<"THE MUFFIN MAN!">

<"She's married to the muffin man..."> the Hydran pondered this for a moment before exiting the door.

"Stop recording," ordered the Hydran scientist, before turning to his commander. "And that's how the last 15 attempts at extracting information out of this prisoner has gone. Our mind probes have either completely failed or worse overloaded. He is unlike any other specimen we have captured to date."

"Interesting, go on."

"He was captured leading a small resistance cell of only a dozen or so Romulans. The cell managed to take out near seven hundred of our troops, 3 dozen ground vechiles, an entire squadron of fighters and a dozen other grounded transports and two temporary command centers. We were only able to bring them down by sending a huge to catch them, and-"

"And even then, we suffered losses disproportionate to what we faced. I read report, but that's not what you've called me here to discuss."

"No, I suppose not, but I think it is important to cover everything we can before we go into the truly interesting information. By running his facial features and genetic material, through our database we've been able to determine that his identity is Ensign Zev Raynor, a Starfleet Intelligence Officer who was serving aboard the USS Galaxy. But nothing in his file suggests that Zev Raynor could lead such a unit. He is a malcontent misbehaving clown who rarely can be bothered to show for even the most important assignments on time, if at all. He was even scrapped most recently at the last minute for a mission that would have taken him directly into our territory. Our clone agent aboard has confirmed all of this information during her observation of that crew. Also we can't seem to replicate him."

"You told me that his first clone was completed a few hours ago."

"Yes but there are... difficulties when it comes to passing him off as the original. His genetic material alone cannot replicate his body, he been through some sort of special training or unusual growth development which we can't simulate in a lab. He would not pass through a medical exam without serious questions being raised. Furthermore the clone seems to possess an extra organ, which the original does not. Upon closer inspection we saw a space where this organ would been in the original, but as to how it was removed... that is beyond us. Aside from the space, there is no remaining evidence that something had been there, no hint of surgery or any known procedure to remove it."

"What are your recommendations?"

"At the very least we should properly evaluate his abilities to see what Starfleet agents are capable of... and possibly find out who this Muffin man is. It may be significant..."

---

When Madden finally spoke it was a burst of laughter in which he was almost crying.

And then went he finally stifled it enough, Raynor found out what Madden had managed to discover ~...Their going to waste time trying to find out who the Muffin man is...~

Raynor closed his eyes tightly, 'Oh god. Why? Never mind I don't to know...

anything else?'

~Yea... something about evaluating your abilities... no idea beyond that.~

'I think I can handle whatever half baked tests they throw at me...'

~Zevy boy... you don't know what their going to throw at you... plus you've already been beaten to shit... what makes you think you're in any condition to handle- ~

'I've been thrown into a room of women a couple of guys all of whom were in the middle of PMS. Whatever happens next, it will never top that.'

~...~

'...'

After a minute long pause Madden spoke, ~Alright you got me there... still it will amusing to watch you fail these upcoming trials... in mean time... I will be making use of this left over Dithparu body and try to find us an exit...~

Branwen woke up again, shivering. It was so damned cold in the cellar.

Mummy or daddy had not come to release her yet. She felt like she had been punished for ages this time, and she started to cry.

It hurt, and there was nobody around.

"Mummy!" She called out weakly. "Mummy, I'm sorry, I will be good."

In the darkness, gentle hands fell upon Branwen. The kind voice belonging to the hands reassured the young woman. "You're burning with fever, child. Rest....I will help you."

"No, it feels so good, but you will end up hurting me like the other green woman." Branwen was still half delirious. "I trusted her, she was nice. Like my mother sometimes. But she would betray me as well."

She shivered.

"No more words for now...." Anasta allowed her physical empathy to interact with the Marine's body. It was obvious she had infection raging inside from the wound on her arm. She could help fight the invading germs, but Anasta was still too weak to risk directly healing the human....

"Will you be my mother?" Bran looked at her with fever filled eyes.

She tried to crawl closer to the Emerald woman.

****

Outside

Man'darr was outside of the compound, taking in some much appreciated fresh air. The air inside had smelled of death and disease when the explosion was heard, sending debris flying into the air. Man'darr crouched and looked around, when he spotted the attackers nearly three hundred yards away. Man'darr squinted his eyes to get a better look at the attackers. Mortars, Man'darr thought, observing eight Hydrans operating a mortar launcher. A sensation of battle and adrenaline now filled Man'darr's body as he leapt to his feet and charged across the wasteland of what was left of the city with speed that only Capellan legs could provide.

****

Inside

Victor didn't like coming to the field hospital. It wasn't the smell of injury and death, or the cries of the wounded that was the problem, though. For him, it was the knowledge the so many of the patients would be affected by his presence, by what he did to those around him, and be unable to move away. These people had known enough fear and despair for a lifetime already - he didn't like making it worse for them. Today, now, though, he had to. Something was wrong. He'd forbidden someone something and they were foolishly trying to do it anyway. He couldn't allow that.

Leaving a trail of traumatized patients and fearful gazes behind him, Victor moved through the hospital, knowing where he was supposed to be going without really knowing, knowing that the one defying him was...

here. "London," he whispered, the words carrying around the room without seeming to originate directly from him as he took in the fragile form cradled in another woman's arms. "You never listen, do you?"

Anasta's eye s went to the large man in the doorway. He was huge! "She has hidden her injuries, and now her blood is tainted with infection."

Branwen smiled. She hardly recognized him; she just saw a comforting presence hovering over her.

Victor frowned and dropped to one knee to examine the infected shoulder injury and the newer injuries from the explosion. "Are you a doctor?" he asked Anasta while he examined the shoulder injury a second time. It didn't look better on a second glance. "Can she hear me? Will she know who I am?"

The Welsh girl giggled semi lucid for a moment. "Silly Victor." She looked at the Emerald woman. "He thinks he scares people, he's my big teddy bear brother. I adopt all my family; my own family is no good. I want you for a mummy, Victor for brother and Man'darr as husband."

Who, Victor wondered, or what, was a 'Man'darr' and why would London want to marry it? "Is she on pain medication?" he asked. "Or is she delirious?" Of course, with London sometimes she was like this when neither was the case. He started to run through his mental list of the drugs in his kit, none of which seemed to be appropriate. Everything he had was designed to get someone on their feet and keep them fighting, not fight an infection like this. He had a few pain meds that might be safe, but he wasn't certain that she ought to be taking them in her condition. Still, she seemed to know who he was....

Victor leaned forward, catching Bran's chin in his hand and holding it so she was looking into his eyes. Ignoring Anasta's protesting squawk, he asked, "You know who I am, don't you, London?"

Her eyes glazed over again and she was lost to reality. But instead of going back to her youth and the abuse of her parents, this time she was walking in the corridors of the galaxy and Victor was next to her.

She looked at him and smiled. "I am glad you are here."

"Do you listen to anything that I say?" the figure beside her asked, a familiar frown on its face and a chill cast to its words. "Why are you doing this?"

"Of course I do, you know I value you." Her dream figure said laughing. "Doing what?"

The man next to her deepened his frown. "Dying, London." The air around them seemed to grow colder and Bran felt a pressure in the air.

"You're trying to die, when I told you that you couldn't. Why are you doing that?"

"I'm not! Why would I want to die now, after all I survived? Now that I finally have everything to live for. Don't be silly, Victor."

Anasta looked at this man with distain and sought to intervene. "This does not help her. If the fever persists, she will weaken further. Is this what you want for her?"

"I'm never silly; you know that, London," he replied. The air grew colder and the feeling of pressure increased, until it was a physical sensation pressing against Bran, making her feel like she was walking in slow motion as she pushed her way through it. As they turned a corner, she looked away to make certain she wouldn't collide with anyone coming the opposite way, and when she looked back, something else was looking at her out of Victor's eyes. Something she knew on sight after losing so many patients to it during the eternity she'd been underground at the hospital. "Yes," Death whispered, his voice laced with the wails of damned souls howling in faint counterpoint to Death's words. "You are. You're trying to die right now."

Branwen pushed against the bulkhead and swallowed. Her physical body back on the planet moaned. "Please, you are scaring me."

****

Man'darr grabbed the Hydran Rifle as the Hydran soldier fired it, narrowly missing the large Capellan. He twisted it upwards and backwards, breaking the Hydrans grasp of the rifle and fire it, catching the surprised soldier point plank in the chest, sending him reeling backwards. Man'darr fended off the next soldier with a butt stroke of the rifle to the side of the Hydran's head. The Hydran was sent sprawling to the ground as Man'darr turned and fired the rifle again at another charging Hydran. Firing three more shots, three more Hydrans dropped to the ground. One Hydran caught him by surprise, grabbing Man'darr with its arms. "Big mistake," Man'darr replied, throwing his head back. The force of the impact caused the Hydran to stumble backwards a few steps. Man'darr then ripped the Methane Mask off of the Hydran who immediately collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

"So, you are a Capellan," the last Hydran judged.

"How astute of you, Hydran. "

"I've always wanted to face a Capellan in battle. I am Denthar, second-in-command of Hydran Special Forces on this wretched planet."

"Then you will get your wish," Man'darr replied, dropping the Hydran Rifle to the ground. "And I don't care who you are...you're just another dead Hydran to me!" Man'darr charged the Hydran who swung a massive fist at the charging Capellan, which swung over his head as Man'darr leaned forward with the Hydran's second fist slamming into Man'darr's injured side. With a roar from the pain of the assault and anger, Man'darr collided with the Hydran, lifting him off the ground, grabbing the Hydran and slamming him back to the ground. Adrenaline dulled out the pain at his side as the large Hydran Commander used his feet to push Man'darr off. As the Hydran got to his feet, a sharp pain shot through his head, along with a loud crack as the Hydran's right cranial plate was shattered and blackness overcame him as Man'darr's fist connected with the Hydran's temple in a full punch which sent the lifeless body of the Denthar back to the ground. With the battle over, Man'darr soon felt his side pulsing with intense pain from the struggle along with minor blood stains on the bandage where the wound was.

Man'darr dropped to his knees, taking in deep breaths as t he fight had taken a lot out of him in his weakened condition. After a few moments, Man'darr got back to his feet, grabbing the Mortar Hydran Ammo and rifles back to the Field Hospital, as they were in need of such weapons for defense should there be another attack. He hoped Branwen was not injured in the attack as he entered the field Hospital.

****

Inside

"Good," Death replied. "Be afraid. Be very afraid if that's what it takes to get you to listen to me." The pressure increased further, almost pinning Bran to the bulkhead with it's force, throbbing in a steady beat that part of her understood was a heartbeat, although hers or someone else's she couldn't say. "Do you remember what I told you?

Do you remember?"

"Uhm.. yes," She squeaked.

"What was it, London? What did I tell you?"

"I don't have permission to die." She whispered almost like a child.

"That's right. You don't have permission." Death leaned closer, his hand catching her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes, holding her there despite her attempt to turn away. "Do you understand that? Tell me you understand it, London."

"Yes, yes, I understand."

In the real world her eyes snapped open and she gasped. It took a few seconds before she was able to catch her breath. "Help me, I don't....

I don't want to die." She cried.

Victor held her chin for a moment longer, until her eyes focused on him. "You won't die, London," he told her, his voice merely his own now. "I won't give you permission to." He released Bran's chin and straightened up, glancing at Anasta. "She won't die," he repeated.

Anasta nodded, her eyes wary and wide. Her people may not be gifted with psionics, but they were quite familiar with the presence of darkness. This was more than a man. She made a ward against the presence of evil and put a protective arm around the Terran woman.

Victor noted the gesture but ignored it, turning back to Bran. "Listen to me London: I have some pain meds if one of them will help you think more clearly. Are you allergic to anything?"

"I don't think so." She clutched at his hand with her good arm while she still lay in Anasta's arms. "I'm scared Victor."

"Of course you are," Victor nodded as he sorted out one of his auto injectors, checked the date, and pressed it against Bran's good arm.

"I'm here. You're just not like you normally are when you don't see it," he finished over the hiss of the disposable hypo as it sent the painkiller into her system.

"H uh?" Branwen said. It was a very powerful drug, and it didn't take long for her mind to start to clear. "What... bloody hell, it hurts."

She mumbled.

"Pain does that," Victor observed, withdrawing enough that Anasta could pull Bran away from him. "That's how you know you're alive. It doesn't hurt anymore when you're dead."

Man'darr quickly placed the new-found weapons and ammo in a corner when he spotted Branwen on the ground. "Is she alright?" his voice seemed to boom through the devastated hospital.

"Dar!" She tried to sit up and put up a brave face. "Sure. Victor, this is my boyfriend." She said very proud. "He likes me."

"Being your boyfriend, one would hope so," Victor observed. He glanced at the Capellan. "She's lying - or letting the painkiller I just gave her do the talking. She isn't fine. She's let an injury become infected and it's spread to her bloodstream, in addition to the other injuries she just received in an explosion. The may be more beyond that, but I haven't checked her for them yet."

The painkillers were making her feel much better. She still tried to struggle to her feet, but there was no strength there. "I should be getting back to work. Lots of people are worse off than I am." Branwen mumbled.

Anasta shook her finger at Branwen in a scolding manner befitting a mother. "You are done for work now. Continue to push, and nothing will help you." Still, she watched the one named Victor, wary of his very presence.

"Yes Mum." Branwen tried to smile. "But it doesn't hurt so bad anymore. Maybe I could just take some antibiotics if I can find some."

"I am not carrying any" Victor said, frowning. "He looked over at Man'darr. "What about you?"

"I'm a fighter, not a doctor. I will go get one," Man'darr said standing, ignoring the pain at his side from his treated injury.

"Perhaps I can find Doctor Mathieson." Man'darr walked out of the room at a quick pace, looking for a nearby doctor. One way or another, he was going to find one.

===

The small Romulan woman was pale, and nervously glanced back at the hulking Capellan as she was ushered into the chamber. Seeing the prone Branwen lying on the cot, the physician made to approach the young woman and froze. Wide-eyed, gooseflesh worked to make her pale skin almost white as she looked... no... felt the tall figure in the semi-darkness. The wounded marine evoked sympathy. The large Ops lieutenant demanded respect. The other - something altogether darker.

Breathing quickly, the Romulan fought to regain her voice and courage.

"I'm Doctor t'Ailleane. The Lieutenant said someone was injured and required...treatment". Despite her efforts, she trembled and subconsciously backed into the looming Man'darr but her eyes never left the shadowy figure. In a shaky voice, she found the fortitude to ask.

"May I...?"

Branwen recognised the doctor. They had worked together briefly over the last couple of days.. "Of course. And don't mind Victor, he doesn't bite. I am not feeling too well. So I need some help if you have time."

t'Ailleane nodded and cautiously approached the wounded woman, but didn't take her eyes off the grim, dark human. Only when she reached Branwen did she fearfully look away and fumble in her kit for a medical scanner. As the small device hummed to life, the Romulan focused intensely on the Marine's wounds. "How did this happen, Lieutenant... and where?", she asked in a small voice choked with fear.

Branwen took her hand in her one good one. "It's okay, he will not hurt you. He's not really scary, it's all in your head."

The pale look on the Romulan doctor's face spoke of her thorough disbelief of those words. "I'll have to... take your word for that human, now... your injuries...?"

"My arm happened a few days ago when Man'darr was wounded something grazed my arm. The rest happened today, I was hurt in one of the explosions. I don't exactly know what's wrong. It doesn't feel so bad now."

For a minute the chamber was silent except for the sounds of breathing and the quiet droning of the medical scanner. When the scanner was deactivated, t'Ailleane bent down to Branwen and spoke to her softly.

"Lieutenant, your injuries are serious. You have a serious concussion that can be dealt with, three broken fingers that can be set, two broken ribs that can be made immobile." Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she disclosed the worst injury. "There is a large lymphoid organ under you right lung... I believe the human term is a 'spleen'. Because this organ has a number of ruptures, your autoimmune system has been compromised - you have an infection coursing through your blood."

The doctor reached into her kit and pulled an oblong, gleaming machine that she placed carefully just below Bran's chest. "I have the equipment to mend the tears in the lymphoid organ... that will stop the internal bleeding, but right now, there's nothing I can do about the infection. Your blood chemistry is... so... alien. Iron based.

Our anti-bacterials are copper-based for Rihannsu or Vulcan bloodtypes. There... may be a solution if your... ah... friends can help."

Man'darr stepped forward. "What do you need, doctor?"

"The hospitals and major clinics are being held by the Hydrans.

The... veterinary and zoological practices are not. Many of the native fauna on ch'Rihan are iron-based, and antibiotics for iron based bloodtypes should be found there."

"So you want me to go and find iron-based plants?"

The small woman shook her head impatiently. "No - medicine! Derived from a particular fungus." She took a few deep breaths to regain control over her fear and temper "It will be in hypospray form.

Humans know it as penicillin and its various sub-forms, I believe.

They're small - just take everything resembling the drugs I've described."

"Right, I'll be back soon," Man'darr stated moving over to the recent confinscated Hydran Weapons pile and picked up a Hydran rifle and heading out of the room and the hospital in a fast-paced jog. He immediately headed in the direction of a small veterinarian clinic he had see several time during patrols of the area.

Branwen was already beginning to feel weaker again. She lay against Anasta. The young woman found the emerald lady a great comfort.

==

Man'darr found the nearby veterinarian clinic. The building was heavily damaged with windows shattered. Upon entering the building, Man'darr found the place was a wreck. Bodies of dead Romulans littered the floor, obviously not a match for the invading Hydrans, being simple veterinarians. Man'darr entered the back area. He found most of the medicines shattered from the attack. He searched frantically through the cabinets and after a minute of se arching, he came across a half dozen small bottles containing clear liquids. He picked up one of the bottles, examining it closely--luckily he could under stand Rihannsu.

"Antibiotics," Man'darr said softly to himself, reading the label and then stuffing the bottle and other bottles into his pants. Man'darr then peered out of the building, seeing the area was clear and hustled into a full sprint as his side burned with the exertion and his legs pumped hard, carrying the large Capellan across the devastated cityscape. A few minutes later, Man'darr entered the field medical hospital and handed the Romulan doctor the medicine. "This was all that was left."

The Welsh woman was slipping back in unconsciousness by now. She vaguely heard her boyfriend come back, but she was too weak to answer.

Squinting at the label, the doctor read the tags and nodded. "This should do. I think." She loaded the liquid into a hypospray and jabbed it into the Marine's neck. "Her internal bleeding's stopped, but her fluids and electrolytes are perilously low. I'm going to infuse her circulatory system with saline to re-hydrate her. After that? Until we can bring her to a fully equipped medical facility, I'm afraid there's... nothing more we can do."

"Birds of Prey and Dogs of War"

Featuring
(Acting) Senator [Starfleet Lt.} Shiarriel t'Khnilamnae (Eric)
Crew of the Nierrh-class warbird "S'harrien"
Captain and Crew of the Klingon Bird of Prey "Dar'koch"

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

The seat felt .... odd.

Then again, serving as the Commander of a destroyer type Rihannsu warbird was odd enough as it was. She was a newer vessel compared to the aged yet ever reliable d'Deridex warbirds she had originally served aboard, with state of the art technology to mach her design.

As quick and maneuverable as the Defiant series, the Nierrh class mounted a markedly different armament. Fixed forward Disruptor cannon matched the sheer damage potential of the federation Pulse Phasers.

The torpedo launchers were also of a different design, again owing to the different parent technologies: 4 standard torpedo tubes marked the S'harrien's hull, two each fore and aft; these were joined by a 5th tube. Larger than the standard torp launchers, the assembly of this weapon was lined with a multitude of magnetic coils of a different type. Shiarrael especially enjoyed implementing this particular weapon.

"Helm, Hard over port. Weapons: target 4-7-Sierra. Engineering! … "

The dialog continued in much the same manner as this as the battle waged onwards and upwards.

As the S'harrien passed by a carrier her disruptors spit emerald death, the darts of energy splattering against the Hydran's shields.

Nearing the completion of her strafing run, the vessel's impulse thrust was cut and she spun about, her current momentum carrying her backwards. As soon as she was aligned properly, a globe of sickly yellowish-green energy burst forth from the nose on a direct course with the carrier. Her deadly payload dispensed, the S'harrien flipped about once more and sped off towards her next victim.

As the carrier exploded, a voice crackled over the S'harriens comm.

"That only counts as one!" The bridge of the klingon warbird Dar'koch came up on Shia's left hand command console. Shia merely smiled and turned to her bridge crew. To the right of the screen showing the Dar'koch;s captain was a small counter displaying tallied kills:

S'harrien – 34; Dar'koch – 18. An explosion could be seen to the left side of the S'harrien's bridge screen, the Dar'koch's count went up by

one:19

That was when the Starbeast died. "HAH!" the Dar'koch's captain exclaimed. "The Lyran's a worthy allies! They will be welcome in Sto'Vo'Kor!"

Shiarrael grinned, "the count begins anew, out of fairness to you and your honorable crew." This drew a victorious shout from behind the Dar'koch's captain, and the warbird sped ahead, the transmission closing. Shia nodded cooly to her crew.

Moments later the count stood for all to know: S'harrien – 8; Dar'koch – 3

na Hlai'vna: The Wild Bird - Part One

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

= IRW Hlai'vna =
= The Battle for Romulus =

With the Galae, Aerv tr'Ahalaen had seen more than his share of combat.

He had served with distinction, always in the fray and in the fire, always aware of the dark shadow of doom. It was strange for the Rihannsu Ambassador to the Federation then, to watch a battle unfold before him in peace, safe from all prying eyes under the most advanced cloak the skill of his people could muster.

He was aboard the Hlai'vna, a quick, nimble vessel designed to keep the Empress safe and hidden in times of war. It was a ship of smoke and shadows, meant not for combat but for deception. How anyone thought that the Ruler of the Rihannsu Empire would be aboard the flag ship was beyond him. Aerv tr'Ahalaen, more than most, studied the cultures around him with a keen eye - for this own people he could only say this: the Rihannsu were capable of doing anything...except for the obvious.

For now stood alone in a dark, empty room, studying a holographic tactical display. Shrouded in safety, he yearned for danger....

"We offered you command of a ship for this battle, Aerv tr'Ahalaen, and you declined. You have lost then the right to look so forlorn, have you not?"

The Ambassador looked up, startled first that someone had managed to sneak into his quarters undetected, and then stunned to find that the intruder was none other than the Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu. Without thought, driven by a life time of training, he knelt.

"Please, Aerv...rise. I do not come to you now as a Empress."

"Some kneel to the Empress," Aerv tr'Ahalaen replied, rising to his feet with his usual fluid grace, "Others kneel to the woman."

Kaidalin t'Vriesu laughed - it was a surprising sound, soft and fragile, and one that few ever heard. So it was true...she was not here as the ruler of an empire. Indeed, Kaidalin was dressed in a simple white jumpsuit, her dark hair tied in loose knot. She had abandoned the pomp and splendor of her office tonight.

"Flattery, Aerv?"

"Always," he answered with a smile, "However, given how you met with the Reman demand, it is not false."

t'Vriesu folded her slender arms across her abdomen and gave him a wry look. It was striking how much like a young woman she seemed all of a sudden, removed from the restraints that her title trust upon her.

"There was little else I could have done."

tr'Ahalaen shrugged, "Perhaps. However, in these dark times, it is not every Rihannsu who puts our people before personal pride. It is...comforting to know that there is, at least, one."

"Two," she reminded him with a nod in his direction, "There are at least two."

Aerv shook his head, "The Federation Council would have probably acted as they did with or without my plea to them. The Remans would not have. It was your gesture that made the difference, Your Hi...."

"Kaidalin," she interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand, "And you may be right. Still that does not change what you did. In fact, what I did, I did in a closed council. You acted so publicly that...I fear you will never escape that moment, Aerv. Any career you may have had in politics is over...you will forever be the hero who knelt before the Federation. It will be a badge of shame."

"And a proud shame it will be."

Kaidalin laughed again. "You do have a way with words. I am told it makes you dangerous. Are you dangerous?"

"Only when the whim takes me." He paused, and shook his head, struck for the first time by how surreal this conversation was....

"Kaidalin...how did you get here?"

"I crawled through the service tubes."

"You...you crawled, Your Highness?"

"You look shocked," the young woman remarked with an impish grin, "So shocked, in fact, that you have not thought it proper to offer the Empress of the Empire a drink."

"I...yes, well - would you like something to...."

"No. Please, Aerv, I was joking." She shook her head, "Do you think you could, for a moment, think of me less as the embodiment of an imperial power and more as a woman?"

"That will be quite difficult."

"If I were so inclined, Ambassador, I could take that as an insult."

"Kaidalin...this is highly...."

"Improper? I had heard that was your specialty. I hope you do not intent do disappoint. Anyway, enough games - tell me, how goes the battle?"

"As well as can be expected."

"Good. Well there is nothing either one of us can do to change the course of things now in motion. So come and sit with me, Aerv. I have come here because I wish to speak with you alone...to determine for myself who you are, and who you will be."

= End Log =

"Initiative"

Colonel Enaris Hagan
Acting CAG, USS Atlantia

"Splash two, Taurus Leader."

In the cockpit of his new fighter, Enaris Hagan glanced at his readouts. "Copy that, Virgo Three.. Good flying." He checked the reads. The Atlantia Fighter Division had been in the thick of battle for fifteen minutes now, and while he was still terrified about the idea of leading two-hundred sixteen fighters into combat, he had to admit, they were doing far better than he could have dreamed. He'd only lost six craft, and he knew at least three of those pilots were still alive.

The Atlantia had entered right at the forefront of the battle, forward phaser cannons blazing, tearing holes into the Triad forces, and her fighters had launched from the bays and tubes, swinging into action and bearing down on the enemy in force. Hagan had to admit he was impressed. Depiste the massive number of nuggets his wings held, they were flying well.

"Lichun Wing, swing towards the Reman command group; looks like those Scorps of theirs are taking quite a beating. See if you can't clear their backs up a little."

There were calls of acknowledgement from the squadron leaders of the one-seventy-fourth wing, and he watched as seventy-one fighters peeled clear of the battle and formed up, blasting through space towards the large Scimitars near the edge of the combat field.

"Professor, this is AWACS-3, we got a whole passel of new ships comin' in."

Hagan looked up to see about two dozen dilapidated vessels, mostly frieghters, dropping out of warp. "Identify."

The AWACS birds didn't have time to repond before the fleetwide speakers crackled to life.

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

Hagan's eyebrows shot up inside his helmet. Joral Anton used to be a member of Phoenix Squadron during the Dominion War. Last Hagan had heard, he'd been killed several months back. Apparently, some people simply couldn't stay dead.

He didn't really have time to worry about it though before a T'Kith'kin fighter dropped in his kill zone. Throwing his fighter into a wild dive, he flipped around the secondary hull of a nearby Excelsior, probably scaring the living hell out of the ship's bridge crew, and whipped back, coming right inside the enemy fighters face and blasting him to dust.

He watched as the field around ch'Rihan opened up, and the four attack squadrons so ordered dropped into the atmosphere to go after the shield generators. He smirked, and turned his head to make sure the Atlantia's three accompanying Iwo Jima's were launching their landing craft, along with the rest of Atlantia's battle group. Together, they constituted a full brigade of the half-million person Marine Expeditionary force that Starfleet had heading to the planet. Hagan checked his readouts, and decided that it was time to take some damn initiative. Hell, just by virtue of the size of his command, he was probably the senior pilot in space at the time, or at least close. He knew there were several Mrshalls onboard the ships of the fleet, but he was the man flying, and so that made it his call.

Opening his comm, Hagan called to all the fighters of Atlantia's battle group, a full corps in all. "Fifty-ninth fighter Corps, form up on me. Let's get those Marines down there, people. Interceptors, take point. Bombers, fan out as soon as we're below the shield. Spread by squadron and target military installations with fighter escort."

He aimed his fighter for the ever-growing hole in the planetary shield, and led his people in. Never had he felt so powerful - nearly six-hundred fifty fighters at his command, balled up like an iron fist. He smiled.

"Fantastic."

"Divine Intervention"

Commander Joral Anton
CAG, USS Miranda (MIA)

The twenty-three ships of Gnallerr's group barrelled through the Hydran flank, somehow managing to take out two enemy cruisers in their first charge, an unprecedented feat for a medium cruiser, a light cruiser, a pair of frigates, and several beat up stock freighters. The large cat in the center seat chuckeld ferally and turned his chair. "Friend Commander, I bleieve this is your moment."

Off to the side, leaning heavily on a well-worn cane, the fleet's only non-feline occupant tried to hide is apprehension. It had been a long time since Joral Anton had seen other Starfleet personnel, and he hadn't quite planned on returning to the fold quite so dramatically. He nodded to the young woman at the communications console. "Open a general hailing frequency to all allied vessels."

On screens across the Federation, Klingon, Rihannsu, and Reman fleets, the deformed face of a battered Bajoran popped up, and a raspy baritone echoed across their bridges.

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

["This is Admiral Murdock, commanding from the Miranda. We heard ye were dead, lad. Glad it didn't take. Welcome yuir friends to the party."] came the crackling accented tones of Starfleet's CinC through the speaker.

Joral smiled, a geniune smile, the one that relished the fight. No one would ever say that he was a well man. "You heard the man, Gnallerr. Shall we?"

Gnallerr growled deep in his throat. "Indeed. Bring us around; All ships, target two-two-zero. Launch fighters. May Lyra smile upon us."

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

Among the mighty host that was the allied fleet, the two dozen Lyran ships were no visible dent, and they were all old and worn-out vessels. However, the effect that they had on the surrounding battle was disproportionate to their numbers. The crews of the ships essentially ignored the T'Kith'kind and Breen vessels unless they had to, their pilots weaving through the battle aiming for one Hydran ship after another, vengeance burning in their hearts. For a group made up of mostly jury-rigged freighters, the effect was devestating on the Hydran forces.

Joral watched in delight as the tiny resistance group managed to annihilate an entire Hydran carrier. The shock that the Hydrans must be feeling right now filled him with pride. Their crimes against the Lyran people were now coming back upon them tenfold, and they were paying their debt in blood... lots of blood.

Joral knew that it couldn't last, though. There was literally no way that only two dozen archaic vessels could survive in this situation. Sooner or later, thier luck would change, and the Hydrans would wipe them out. Their only hope was that Heth'ba would arrive with the other half of the group, and soon.

That very thought running through the Bajoran's head seemed to be enough to change everything, and a startled Ensign Greb'tha spun around from her console, calling out to Gnallerr. "Sir, the Ti'grh has fallen!"

Joral closed his eyes. The loss of the light cruiser meant the deaths of over two-hundred Lyrans, and constituted about twelve percent of their total firepower. It could be enough to doom the entire armada.

He wasn't far from the mark. Within minutes, freighters started dropping off of scanners, and the frigate Leeu had also turned into dust.

Joral watched the smaller ship cease to exist. It wouldn't be long now.

Three blasts hit the ship in rapid succession, and the entire CIC crew went flying. Panels blasted clear, and there was a distinct caterwauling coming from somewhere.

Joral, ironically, was the first one up, despite being a cripple. He was also the first one to notice that something was terribly wrong... besides the usual chaos of battle. It didn't take long to figure out what.

Half scrambling, half hobbling, he made his way over to where Gnallerr had been standing, and nearly tripped over his friend sprawled on the floor.

The Bajoran dropped to the floor, doing what he could for the fallen Lyran Commander, but he knew little to nothing about felinoid physiology. Hell, he barely knew about his own. "Medics!"

As the medics bustled over, Gnallerr opened his eyes, looking up at Joral. "Friend Commander, you must take charge."

Joral's eyes went wide. "You're out of your mind. I'm a fighter pilot, not a fleet commander..."

Gnaller waved a paw, hushing him. "There is no one else. You can do this." The medics arrived, pushing the Bajoran out of the way and lifting Gnallerr onto an anti-grav stretcher. The last thing he said as the pushed him out was, "You have the conn, Commander."

Joral stood next to the situation table blank-faced for several second before another blast shook him from his reverie. He looked up to realize the entire CIC crew was staring at him. In a hollow voice, he said, "I have the conn."

Another few seconds went by before young Ensign Greb'tha came quietly up to his elbow. "What are your orders, Commander?"

Joral seemed to come abruptly alive. "Recall all our fighters into screening position, and order the freighters to form up on our aft quarter. Put the Pulnma in flanking position. And tell the fleet I have assumed command."

The CIC crew started rushing around the chamber, enacting his orders. "Let's tear these squidheads apart."

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

As Joral had expected, the Pulnma didn't last long. Within five minutes, the frigate had recieved a killing blow from a Hydran cruiser. The freighters had again scattered, but the small group had managed to take out another three Hydran ships first.

Joral looked at the situation table, and for the first time realized that Gnallerr's chrono was sitting on it. The seconds ticking by seemed interminably slow. It wasn't going to be long now.

"Commander! Hydran fighter-bomber trio heading straight in. They have Hellbores!"

Joral looked up at the sit-display. "Where the hell is our fighter screen?!?"

"Scatterred, Commander. They have troubles of their own."

He watched as the Hydrans came closer. Vaguely, he heard himself order supressing fire, but it was clearly too late. It like, after everything, Joral Anton was still going to be taken down by an enemy fighter...

Two of the fighters exploded in spectacular fireballs, and the third suddenyl veered off, only to meet the same fate. A small Rogue-class fighter burst through the debris, flying solo.

Joral spun around. "Identify that fighter!"

Greb'tha's paws flew over the controls. "It registers as fighter SF-1-07, Rogue Seven, callsign 'Serenity'."

Joral's jaw dropped. His entire crew's ass just got saved by his own rook. "Open a channel to her."

He picked up the comm headset, and heard the click of the comm system. "Lisnaar, where the hell is your frakking wingman?!?"

An angry but youthful voice came back over the comm. "You're my gorram wingman, and don't you ever forget that!"

In the middle of the inferno, Joral Anton was laughing. As the Lyran ship flew through the battle, a small Rogue V fighter formed up on its wing, clearing their backs as they went.

Greb'tha. meanwhile, had her eyes glued to the status display, and suddenly the whole CIC heard her let out a war-whoop. "Commander! They're here!!!"

Joral looked up, and realized that his one medium cruiser was no longer alone. Dropping out of warp on the other side of the battlefield were twenty-two Lyran ships. A voice came over the fleet-wide comm. "This is General Heth'ba of the Lyran Reistance Force. May we render our aide?"

Joral switched frequencies. "Dammit, Heth'ba, you're late! We got some squids to clean-up."

An amused voice came back. "Agreed, Friend Commander. Let us do our duty."

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

Unfortunately, the battle simply wasn't going the way they had planned. Heth'ba's late arrival, combined with the chaos of combat, had thrown things off. Joral's tiny group had never managed to make it across the field of combat to form up with their General, and eventually, Joral had stopped trying, instead concentrating on diminishing the Hydran carrier capacity.

It wasn't until much later that he realized that Heth'ba had planned it that way. Joral would never know what had caused her to change the plan, and what had happened that had made her arrive late, but when he went over the logs days later, he realized that her entire group had arrived damaged, and short by three ships. In the battle, she lost several, but a dozen or so were still left when Heth'ba did what she had come to do.

In the CIC, Joral watchecd in horror as Hethba's group formed up, making a suicidal dive for the massive Starbeast. There was no way they could survive that, and everyone knew it. Joral dived for the comms. "Raise Heth'ba, now!"

Greb'tha tapped her controls frantically. "I can't reach her, Commander! There's no response."

Time stood still, and the crew watched in terror as their counter-parts were torn apart. Finally, about a dozen ships, led by Heth'ba's cruiser, dived headlong into the maw of the beast.

There was a beat of about two seconds. Then a flash of light.

Blinded, the crew shielded their eyes, when they looked up again, the Beast was dead.

All they could do was carry on. Their tears would have to wait, but they would be many. They were now alone.

"Lament for Icarus, Act III, Scene 3"

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes
Commanding Officer, USS Icarus
And crew

As the starship Miranda came out of warp, there was to her starboard quarter a smaller vessel, battle scarred and seemingly held together only by fate's goodwill. As the Triad fleet turned to face the threat of the massive Allied fleet bearing down on them, thsi small vessel fired the first shots of the battle, destroying one of the disabled Breen ships in a spectacular fireball, and then powering into the middle of the fight.

Aboard the Icarus, Juan Holmes sat in his command chair, the anti-grav seat discarded. He probably should have kept it nearby in case he felt the need to 'walk', but there was no way he was going to have that abomination on his bridge. He glanced at the aft scanners as the rest of the fleet followed his lead, proud of his skeleton crew for having led the way with such a spectacular volley. As long as they were likely to die in the first five minutes, they might as well put on a good show in the meantime.

"Helm, left full. Concentrate all fire on the disabled vessels. Let the fresh ships take on the T'Kith'kin. I want to clear out as many Hydrans and Breen as we can before they come back on line."

From the port side, the Chief at communications called out. "Captain, hanger bay reports system-wide failure in the launch tube systems. They can't get the fighters out there."

"Dammit!"

Several of the more inexperianced personnel tunred in surprise. They'd never heard the CO curse before. "Get them out of the tubes and into the bay. We'll do it the old-fashioned way. Get those tubes fixed!"

He glanced at the chrono. T-plus forty seconds. It had taken less than a minute for something to go wrong. He slammed his hand down in irritation on the armrest...

And promtly felt it throb with new pain.

He looked around to see if anyone noticed, to see Ares looking at him in bemusement. "You know, with everything else, you should probably avoid breaking your hand, too."

"Oh shut up."

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

It had taken over ten minutes to get the fighters out into space, and by then, the Hydran and Breen ships were powered back up. Icarus alone had taken out over thirty capital ships before they had come back to life, though, and it had made a differance.

They were down to fewer than two-dozen torpedoes, and Holmes had ordered all torpeo fire halted until they needed them. The phasers were certainly powerful enough to make a differance for now.

"Hydran cruiser opening fire, bearing 046 mark 21."

"Helm, Intercept course. Mr. Knight, show them what happens when you sting a wounded animal."

"Aye, Captain."

For a ship that probably should have been destroyed several minutes earlier, the Icarus packed one hell of a punch, and the Hydrans regretted their decision nearly as soon as they had made it. The cruiser lost its port nacelle to the Starfleet ship's phaser cannon, and the explosion that followed was truly magnificent. The small contingent of remaining fighters from the Federation vessel swept in, taking out the Hydran fighter screen as they went.

"Captain!"

At the fore of the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Elaithin was hunched over her console. "About two dozen new contacts coming in... Lyran configurations..."

Holmes was certain he wasn't the only surprised one on the bridge, or in the fleet, for that matter. He didn't have time to ask the obvious question before the fleetwide comms crackled to life:

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

A hearty laugh escaped from his XO. The Icarus had spent two weeks on the Rihannsu-Lyran border after Joral's disappearance looking for signs of him, and Holmes was glad that there were others on the bridge who were glad to see that the fighter jock was alive.

The battle carried on, the new but potent force adding to the Allied ranks.

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

~The luck of Icarus is nothing short of miraculous,~ Holmes mused, truly shocked that he and his crew weren't dead yet. The Lyran forces had been decimated, and though they were certainly winning the battle, Starfleet and their allies were taking heavy losses. The very notion that an undercrewed and badly-damaged ship such as his could possibly have managed to keep from being among those losses was nothing short of amazing.

He watched as a hole opened in the massive Hydran planetary shield around ch'Rihan, and heard Admiral Murdock's voice come over the comm system:

"Flagship to all ships - there's a hole in the shield. Launch all troop landing craft. Fighter Groups and Destroyer wings, escort them in."

It was then that Juan Holmes made one of those instantaneous decisions that change a man's career, if not the course of history. He stood - somewhat surprising in and of itself - and turned to his long-time XO. "Commander Khoma, the ship is yours."

There was complete silence on the bridge. Ares finally broke it. "Pardon?"

Holmes ignored him, knowing he didn't have to repeat the order. He glanced at the still-terrified chief at comm. "Inform the launch bay to prep one of the standby Valkyries. I'm heading down."

Khoma's voice cut through the din of battle. "Captain, I'd sure like to know what in the hell you think you're doing."

Holmes smiled at his friend and first officer. "I'm a combat pilot, Ares. I belong in the air."

A moment passed between them, in which Ares had a strange premonition of what was coming. Holmes put a hand on his shoulder, looking him square in the face. "She's your ship now, old friend. Take good care of her. You've earned it."

With that, Juan Holmes left the bridge of the Icarus.

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

Within minutes, the deck crew was shocked to see the figure of their captain hobbling across the bay, wearing a flight suit and carrying his old flight helmet, the winged Phoenix of his old squadron still emblazoned on it. His intentions were clear, and no one made a move to stop him. He managed to climb onto the wing and into the cockpit of the waiting fighter entirely on his own, and two techs rushed up to help him strap in.

The tech sergeant to his left snapped off a salute, not sure what else to do in this situation. "Captain, the tubes are back online."

Holmes smiled an old roguish smile. "Good. Then lets get this bird out there, shall we?"

The canopy slid shut, and the deck crew rushed to move the fighter into the launch tube. Holmes looed in his aft scanner as the tube door closed, and saw the entire deck crew standing in line, saluting.

Somehow, the fact that they seemed to not expect him to come back alive was comforting.

He tapped the activation control, and the fighter rocketted into space.

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

Bringing hsi craft around, Holmes aimed directly for the planet, ignoring the battle around him. He dived through the ever-increasing hole in the shield, and activated his comm. "All fighters inter-atmosphere, this is Icarus Actual. I'm taking command. Bombers and accompanying escorts, continue your attack. All others, get the Marines on the cround, and then form up over Ki Baratan."

He took a deep breath, punching his accelerator.

"Let's show these people what vengeance really is."

"Homecoming"

Flight Officer Lisnaar Adami
Rogue Six (In Confinement)

In the Miranda's brig, a lone security officer stood watch, irritated as hell that he had now spent two major battles in a row in this position. In fact, he had spent much of the past four weeks at this post, and he was getting quite tired of it. It was a rae thing that Mirnnda's brig was occupied at all, much less continuously for a month, but these were not normal times.

Inside the sole occupied cell, Lisnaar Adami lie on her back, listening to the combat feed on the brig speaker. She rarely spoke anymore. She had woken up the first morning after her confinement screaming to be let out, just as she had the previous two. They let her carry on for about an hour before Lieutenants K'aa and West had come down to tell her that this time she was going to be held until they could get back to a Starbase and leave her off for a general Court Martial. Apparently, her chronic refusal to report for duty and the public nudity and drunkeness was more than Starfleet was willing to accept, and the cold-blooded murder of several Cardassians a few months earlier had finally coem out when Major 'Slim' was revealed.

Major mel'Thora had been by briefly to say that she'd do what she could, but that was the only visitor Lisnaar had immediately after the incident. She was pretty pissed off that Colonel Mitchell had never come by. After all, he'd known her since she was a little girl.

Normally, they would hav gotted rid of her in a matter of days. But only four days later, the battle had happened at ch'Rihan, and so they were stuck with her.

During the battle, she'd tried to get the git of a Petty Officer to let her out. She felt, rather justifiably in her eyes, that keeping a qualified fighter pilot in hack in the middle of a major battle was far more criminal than anything she'd done thus far.

The guard didn't agree, and she'd spent the whole battle with the speakers on, listening to her colleagues dying, and screaming at the guard to release her, to no avail.

She'd not spoken much since then, really. There was no point. A couple of the surviving pilots had come to see her after. Artu came every couple of days, which she found odd at first; they'd never been close before. It wasn't until later that someone told her that he'd been Joral's wingman before her, and as such had taken to keeping an eye on her when she wasn't looking.

Major Starburst, it turned out, was the CAG now - no one else was left. She had been by a few times, and apparently had tried to get Lisnaar released, but the young Bajoran was apparently not considered reliable anymore, and with the death of Captain Summers, and both Major mel'Thora and Colonel Mitchell missing, things were a tad hectic now. No one had time for a self-destructive pilot.

And so here she was, in the middle of another major battle, the most important of her career - assuming she still had one - and once again, she was stuck in hack, with a surly jackass of a guard. She didn't even try to get released this time. She had long since stopped caring. All she could do now was lie there and listen to people dying on the battle feed.

That lasted until she heard those fateful words over the comm:

"This is Commander Joral Anton, formerly of the USS Miranda, representing the Lyran Resistance Forces, to all allied vessels. We have come to offer our assistance."

Lisnaar sat bolt upright, eyes wide in shock. Joral! She had long-since given up any hope that her former wingman was alive. They had left him behind on the hell that was Lyra. The last time she had seen him, he had sent her running off into the smoke with some message, and the battle had swallowed him whole. Joy filled her heart, and she lept to her feet....

Just in time to remember where she was.

A new determination filled her. She had to get out there where she belonged.

"Guard! You have to let me out of here!"

The Petty Officer looked up. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly two weeks now.

"We've been over this before. You're not leaving. I have my orders."

"Please? I can't stay here. I have to be out there. Right now!"

His eyebrows went up. She'd never sounded quite this desparate before. Clearly something had changed, but he didn't really care what. He opened his mouth to deny her again, when she upped the ante.

"I'll do anything. Just let me out..."

The guard's mouth snapped shut. Anything? He looked his prisoner up and down. She was certainly an attrative young thing, and if what he'd been told about the performance in the cantina that had landed her here in the first place was even half true, 'anything' could be quite encompassing.

A smirk graced his features, and Lisnaar felt her stomach twist in a knot as he came closer. Somehow, she knew she shouldn't have said that.

The guard tapped the controls, and the forcefield dropped. "Anything? Alright. I'll let you out to go die, but you have to do something for me, first." He walked right up to her. "On your knees."

Lisnaar was appalled. She had really hoped she'd been wrong in that guess, but apparently she was right on the money. "We don't have time for that!"

"It's the only way you're getting out of here, Darlin'."

The Bajoran's face set in a stoney expression, and she dropped down to her knees, trying not to let tears well up. She reached up to his waist slowly.

And then stood up over the unconcious guard, his phaser in her hands. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to be quite so dumb as to leave it on his belt where she could get it. Reaching down, she went ahead and pulled down his pants, anyway. They might as well find him in the state that he wanted to be in before getting knocked out - it might give her at least some credibility.

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

Five minutes later, Lisnaar Adami ran out of the squadron locker room in full flight gear. She hadn't felt so invigorated in a hell of a long time. Looking around, she realized her fighter wasn't there. With all the damaged ones from the last battle, they must have decided to use hers as a replacement. Jogging along the deck, she saw Master Sergeant Frost shouting orders to the deck crew. "Chief!"

He turned towards her. "Flight Officer Lisnaar? Might I ask what your'e doing hereabouts? Last I heard, you were in hack."

She raised a wry eyebrow. "Shut it Chief. Grab me the least damaged fighter here, and get it ready to fly."

The Chief knew better than to argue with the young woman. Bajorans in general weren't worth fighting with, and so he starting calling out to the deck crew. "Ok people, get 1-07 on the deck!"

Lisnaar blinked a couple of times. There was no way she'd heard that right. Her fighter had to be out already...

Following Frost, she jogged around the edge of a Warhammer, and there was her fighter, all ready to fly. She looked at Frost. "Chief?"

The deck chief smiled warmly at her. "I had her warmed up and prepped for you... jsut in case."

Lisnaar let a tear roll down he cheek, and threw her arms around a surprised Chief. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou..."

Frost laughed, and pulled out of the hug. "Don't mention it, kid. I heard the boss's voice come over the squack box. Get moving."

She hugged him quickly one more time, then joged to her fighter, jumping up to the wing, and then landing neatly in the cockpit. As the canopy closed, she heard a small cheer, and looked over to see about a dozen of the deck crew pausing their work to applaud her. She threw a jaunty thumbs up, and then threw all power into the throttle, blasting clear of the bay.

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

The battle was about the most chaotic she had ever even heard of. Debris littered the space around ch'Rihan, and corpses floated about. She knew there was no way she'd find Rogue Squadron in this mess. The Lyran battle group however, was no problem. Their distinctive ships were right in the thick of things. What was left of them.

Forcing full power into her aft thrusters, she powered that direction, hoping no bogies would notice this one lone fighter flying through the middle of the battle and not engaging. She was nearly to Joral's cruiser, and wondering what she was going to say, when she saw them - three Hydran fighter-bombers heading straight towards the Lyran ship. Checking her sensor readings, she did the math; there was no way that cruiser could survive a Hellbore onslaught in its current condition.

In the Lyran CIC, a felenoid voice called out to Joral.

"Commander! Hydran fighter-bomber trio heading straight in. They have Hellbores!"

Joral looked up at the sit-display. "Where the hell is our fighter screen?!?"

"Scatterred, Commander. They have troubles of their own."

He watched as the Hydrans came closer. Vaguely, he heard himself order supressing fire, but it was clearly too late. It like, after everything, Joral Anton was still going to be taken down by an enemy fighter...

Two of the fighters exploded in spectacular fireballs, and the third suddenyl veered off, only to meet the same fate. A small Rogue-class fighter burst through the debris, flying solo.

Joral spun around. "Identify that fighter!"

Greb'tha's paws flew over the controls. "It registers as fighter SF-1-07, Rogue Seven, callsign 'Serenity'."

Joral's jaw dropped. His entire crew's ass just got saved by his own rook. "Open a channel to her."

He picked up the comm headset, and heard the click of the comm system. "Lisnaar, where the hell is your frakking wingman?!?"

An angry but youthful voice came back over the comm. "You're my gorram wingman, and don't you ever forget that!"

She heard his laughter and felt it fill her with more joy than she'd flet in a long time. As the Lyran fighter screen formed up on her lead, she smiled. Her wingman was home.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-three

***Location; somewhere on Hydran occupied Romulus***

It was strange how silent the land had fallen over the last few hours. Maybe the land had no more tears to shed over the wounds it had. Maybe the dying had finally gone across to the other side. Maybe.

Baile sat in silence and had done so for nearly four hours. He had just been sitting there, watching the skies, the city below him and the woman laying a few feet away from him. He didn't reflect much these days. The Baile of today was all about instinct and he missed it. He missed the moments of reflection.

His alien eyes stung slightly, but no worse than usual. What now? He knew partly what needed doing, but not how. The marine shrugged. That would come to him, sooner or later. He would cross that bridge when he got to it.

The marine actually heard her wake up before her body stirred. Her breathing had changed ever so slightly. He turned to her, a dark shadow in the faint light from the fires in the city below them.

The battle that had raged within, behind her closed eyelids as she lay unconscious, was now over. For how long, was another matter. For the first time in what felt like years she felt the pain in her body. Everything that had happened since she arrived had been encapsulated in a numbing thrum of darkness that she couldn't escape. And even now, as she stole a weary eye around her, it seemed that the darkness was going to follow her, haunt her, for as long as it deemed was worthy.

"Baile?" she whispered, through chapped and dried lips, with a voice that was more her own than any other the Marine had heard from her.

"I'm here…" his low voice replied, but it held none of its usual sarcasm and irony. It simply sounded... tired.

His tone filled her with a sadness and joy at the same time. In her waking moments she gradually remembered the things that had transpired between them. Yet none of it seemed to matter, because he was still with her, watching over her.

His reasons for being at her side were most likely because of his wounds, his marine training, his resolve never to leave a man down. Yet to Dhani it felt like it was more than that. And after what she had put him through, she was humbled to see that he cared.

Slowly she moved her aching body, feeling every muscle inside scream out against the decision. Rolling haphazardly on to one side she raised her head and cast her face towards the sound of his voice. His energy had dimmed from what she recalled. He was a pale blue, one that was still electric in its tone, yet it flickered, slowly and rhythmically. Without realizing how, she just knew; he was dying. She was no longer the cause, thank the gods, it was his wounds that caused his heart to beat irregularly.

Emotion washed over her features as she reached out to him, her body still stiff; hampering her in her need to touch him, to make sure that he was really here and his voice wasn't a fabrication of those that still echoed in her mind.

"I should probably kill you." he said slowly, tired and worn out. When he saw her stiffen he shook his head slowly. "Don't worry… I won't. If I really wanted you dead you wouldn't have woken up again."

He had pulled the knife out of his leg but hadn't really bothered to take care of the wound. It had seemed pointless in doing so. Maybe defying the instincts inside would be his last contribution as a human? "How are you feeling?" he asked her finally.

A small smile crossed her lips for a moment at the concern he showed. And for a second she let out a half laugh, it was a welcome sound, "Like shit!" she replied, noticing the dried blood as it cracked over her top lip, stretching the skin underneath. The one good thing about not being able to see properly was that she would spend less time preening in front of the mirror. She cocked her head up; "You?" she enquired.

"I've been worse." he replied and shrugged. Maybe not entirely true but who cared? He turned his head to look at the fires below. "They're down there... The fighting died out about an hour ago... now it's just small skirmishes here and there left."

She nodded and turned her face towards the city. Many lights shone out in the darkness, yet she couldn't determine who was who. The devastation of the city was not something her vision allowed her to see, so all she could do was nod, as if she understood, yet not really knowing the full extent of the destruction.

Down the rolling hillside that the two sat upon while their energy gradually returned the city below was indeed aflame. Within the Square, what was left of the allied troops made their stand. The sound of phaser fire could still be heard echoing out into the night, yet it had lost its fury, its passion had dwindled.

In the square below, encamped in one of those desolate building, its walls crumbled from the explosions that had torn apart its beauty and grace, nestled in a corner were a pair of engineers…

In war, there are characters, and there are characters. Some do whatever they need to do to survive, some save your butt in a fire fight, some even command the respect of hordes of soldiers and some, well, some are just characters. Like these next two…

"THAT'S IT... NOOOO. GO BACK, YOU JUST HAD IT." The hyped up engineer said as his mate fiddled with the dial. Static filled his ears as he listened through the headphones to the sound coming through the transistor radio they were using. "YEP... THERE, THAT'S PERFECT" he said to the knob turner.

"You don't need to shout." The ginger haired engineer replied.

"WHAT?" the first replied, waving his arms near his ear to indicate he couldn't hear him speak.

"I said, you don't need to shout!" he said again.

"WHAT?" The man with the headphones said again.

Ginger yanked at the headphones. "I SAID; YOU DON'T NEED TO SHOUT!"

"Geez, you don't need to shout." the first replied again. "Take a listen to this..." He handed him the headphones.

"Damn, we gotta tell the others" He said after listening to the message.

Picking up their gear, the two short engineers took off towards the square, where so many had gathered.

"Oi," Ginger said to the nearest Romulan he could find. "We need to get this broadcast on that." he said as he pointed to the speaker sitting on the giant pole at the edge of the square.

"What message is this?" He asked. After letting him listen, the Romulan quickly took the duo to a small utility closet on the Eastern side of the crowded square.

"Plug it in here." He said.

Ginger did as he was asked and after they switched the power switch on, the message was broadcast throughout the square, and very quickly word spread to those that were still out in the streets.

The message blared out over the loudspeakers: "The Hydrans are in full retreat. Repeat... The Hydrans are in full retreat! Outposts on Rhynne and Leinarher Streets are reporting that the Hydrans transported away. Reports from other sectors are conclusive. The Hydrans are in full retreat. Repeat... The Hydrans are in full retreat! Outposts on Rhynne and ...."

The hush that enveloped the square as the message broadcasted on repeat was indescribable. All at once an almighty cheer erupted from the crowds within, their voices full of elation and relief. The last few skirmishes had not gone without their price, yet now it was over. The atmosphere that had descended and come to rest heavily upon the air, the anticipation and uncertainty; it broke with the news, replaced with wearily sighs of relief and howls of shear joy.

They had won.

Romulus was free.

"Do you hear that?" Dhanishta asked Baile as the two of them descended from the hill, each leaning on the other for support.

"The Hydrans have left." she whispered, a rise of emotion swept through her at the notion. A faint smile graced her lips for a moment as she contemplated what that meant. They could go home, at last. She could get a shower, clean clothes, finally feel some warmth instead of the rising dampness that had seeped into her bones chilling her to the core. She would be able to eat real food. In time she would hear people laughing and joking again as their memories of this conflict edged away from the harsh light of day as they were now. She would be reunited with her friends again, her sister and Michael.

It was so strange, she hadn't thought about any of them until now. Her eyes stung slightly with the formation of tears as she fought with the urge to run. She had to know, now that she had thought about them; she had to know if they were all okay. She would know if they weren't, wouldn't she? But then she hadn't given them a passing thought as she battled to exist here.

Dropping Bailes arm unexpectedly she began to run down the hill. The gradient caused her to slip at times, the uneven ground made her loose her footing and twist her ankle for what must have been the fifth time, yet she didn't stop. The only thought that her mind contained was Michael, pure and singular.

She ran as fast as her tired legs would carry her, Bailes words lost as the wind whistled past her ears. Her dark hair streamed out behind her, tears already streaked her face, mingling with the dirt and blood.

Heading for the mass of warm bodies that glowed against the backdrop of blackness she charged full pelt into them. Breathing hard she began to search screaming out Michaels name with urgency and fear. He could be anywhere, yet something told her he was here.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-four

***Location; Old Market Square Ki Baratan; Romulus***

Across the square Greg looked to Michael with a puzzled expression, "Hey, where are you think you're going Michael!? You're going the wrong way!"

Michael turned and slowly started walking backwards against the stream of people coming from the other direction. His face was covered with grey smudges of mud, a few cuts on his left cheek, and showed the signs of fatigue. He frowned and shook his head.

"I... I can't go Greg. Dhani...I have to find her."

Then he turned again and tried to find his way through the masses. He didn't have a clue where he was going. There was only that faint voice of Dhani in his mind, and the sense of urgency, that guided him.

It was like she was a fish swimming up-stream whilst trying to find a needle in a haystack. The mass of colors assaulted her eyes. She was blinded by them as they surrounded her, jostled her, knocking her from one broad shoulder to the next.

"MICHAEL!" she screamed against the raising tide that threatened to carry her away.

Reaching up on tip toes she tried to look above them. Squinting she looked for him, surely she would recognize his energy form,

it would call out to her, wouldn't it?

flash on and off like a light, wouldn't it?

But no she couldn't differentiate one bundle of glowing energy from the other. Closing her eyes she felt another tear role down her cheek. She had to find him, she knew he was here; he had to be… hadn't he? She just …

And then she FELT him.

Felt him stronger than she had ever before.

Her breath shortened, was it possible that he had felt her too? With her eyes closed she began to walk through the crowds. And then she began to run. No longer caring who she banged into along the way.

Their telepathic link acted like a compass and Michael was wise enough to trust it. Dhani had to be here, she was somewhere amongst all these people, he could feel it and the feeling became stronger with every step he took. The knowledge that he would see her again after a long three weeks, which had felt like an eternity for him, was driving him forward. His heart rate quickened and became stronger. In the end he started shouting her name despite it being drowned out by the crowd. He had to see her again, had to

hold her tightly in his arms never wanting to let go again.

But it was no use. He couldn't hear her, he couldn't see her. He could only feel her presence and hear her voice via their bond. The only chance he had on finding Dhani was just use that link and blindly walk into the direction which it 'pointed'.

Like a beacon he called out to her, showing her the way home, lighting her path back to him with his love and warmth. Yet she couldn't see him. She could only feel him, feel the beat of his heart, steady and slow. She would give everything to feel him in her arms, to hear the soft tones of his voice. To feel his lips against hers just once more. But more than that she longed to *see* his face. With her last breath she would still want him. And then something made her stop. Breathing hard against the surge of emotion in her chest she dared to open her eyes. The energy form before her, a beautiful violet laced with pure white, glowed and flickered before her.

"Michael?" she breathed inching forward.

Once Michael discerned Dhani walking towards him through the multitude of humanoid forms, he slowed down. She was only meters away from him now. Already he noticed the tears trickling down her cheeks and that triggered such an emotional response within him that Dhani just had to feel it. It was a mixed feeling of pain, sadness, warmth, and joy. It had been necessary that they'd parted ways on the T'Kengra, but seeing her this way....he wondered if he could've done it differently.

Dhanishta swallowed hard, reaching out a trembling hand she gasped as their finger tips met. She felt the warmth he contained, felt the roughness of the skin as her fingers lightly rested on his. Another tear made its way down the same path as the others had; through the dirt and grime that was plastered all over her face, yet this was a tear of joy.

Their fingers interlaced till their palms touched, drawing their bodies closer.

For some moments they just kept standing there and said nothing. It was like the universe grinded to a halt at that moment, allowing the two some precious moments together. Michael opened his eyes and looked at Dhani. He reached up with his right hand and gently wiped away the tears, then moved closer... Their lips touched and Michael kissed the woman he loved in the tenderest way he knew.

Her breath halted in her chest, emotion so raw, swirled within her. All the pain she felt for the things she had seen, the fear that was still in her eyes, still etched onto her features for what she had been through with Baile and the darkness that still coiled inside her; the darkness that she never wanted him to see within her. It was all there in her face, in her emotions; seeping into the link that they shared, like an umbilical cord that tied them together.

She could feel him too, all around her, every part of him within her, a torrent of anguish, relief, joy and sadness; it all flowed mingling into one swirling mass as their bodies drew closer, arms encircling each other. And as they kissed with a passion she wept with elation.

Pulling back from him her hands trailed up his neck, her hands resting to cup his cheeks. How she longed to see his face. She thought that she knew every inch of him, thought that she could paint his portrait with her eyes closed. Yet as she stood there staring at the gentle violet of his energy as it curled, flicking sparks out every time they touched, she was saddened to think that she couldn't. Her chin wobbled with the grief, "I was so scared." she admitted, her brow furrowing, "I was so lost!" she uttered before her face cracked and the tears of pain and sorrow, fear and regret, it shook her body. She lurched into his arms again, almost falling into them with her need to be saved.

He held her tightly, feeling her tremble in his arms. He stroked her hair as she rested in his arms, "It's okay." he said gently, "We're together now."

"I love you!" she mumbled softly into his shoulder as she cried, closing her eyes against the lights that danced, oh how they mocked her, tormented her with the prospect that she would never see his face again. She hated that.

His eyes closed tightly as he heard her words, a smile of happiness crossed his lips for the first time in weeks. Breaking the embrace he pushed her gently back and looked deeply into her eyes, wiping her tears away softly with his fingers, "I love you more."

Through her crying she noticed, only vaguely, how the energy seemed to ebb and flow all around like a leaf on the wind, before it slowly it descended to form just the outline of Michaels body. She nodded vaguely at him her eyes now focused on the light that washed over him. The energy

The energy trickled down almost as if it bled, pixilating as it flowed across his face, she watched transfixed as from underneath its silvery wake, his skin appeared. Every contour of his face distinct once more, from his forehead down to his cheekbones, that were a lot more defined than she remembered. Gone was the healthy glow he once had, replaced with yellowish skin that had a gaunt and haggard look to it. And then the light flowed over his nose to his lips, dry and chapped like her own, and on to his jaw, his chin covered with little black dots. Slowly, as if she went fast the image would disappear, she reached up and traced her thumb across his stubbled cheeks.

A smile of amazement, confusion and joy broke out across her face, yet fought with the frown, as she once more began to cry, so happy that she was overwhelmed with joy.

"I love you." she said once more, and was almost blinded as the energy around him sparkled with her words. She cupped his cheek with her hand, her elation clear in her face, "I LOVE YOU Michael McDowell!" she exclaimed pecking him on the lips.

And then she just stared into his eyes and smiled softly, he was like an anchor to her, and being with him really did make everything okay, she paused before she moved in so she could memorize his face, and this time she would never forget it. Leaning in she kissed him deeply, with a hunger and passion that if they hadn't been standing on the middle of a battle field would have them falling to the floor, if she could right now, if time permit, she would forevermore lay with him, feeling him, tasting him, drinking all of him in and she would never want for anything else. Her arms wrapped round his body, holding him close against her own. Her hands roamed his skin, from his backside, up this spin to the hair at the base of his neck.

The marine looked around him in a daze. Daylight was coming and with that the light he could no longer enjoy without pain. He was tired. Oh so very tired.

He had run god knew how many miles.

There were people around him. He could hear them… smell them... but to his eyes they were nothing but blurry shapes and figures dancing around him.

The war was over. The Hydrans were retreating as if the devil himself was in hot pursuit. Perhaps he was.

The aftermath of battles had always left a bitter taste in Baile. It was the ultimate anticlimax.

It was the fence one had to climb, not really knowing why - only that it had to be climbed and then getting over to the other side only to discover, after great effort, that all there was on the other side was another fence.

Maybe that was not the end of the world but what if all you knew - all you could do - was to climb fences?

He was dying. He knew that with a clarity that he normally only could see in the darkness of the night. Did he mind? Probably. But all of it felt distant. Like through a distorted lens. It was there but it just didn't make any sense.

The air was filled with the stenches of war. Stenches he was all too familiar with. Wars didn't end. They just... paused.

It didn't matter how fine a words the leaders spoke. The wars always returned.

The fences had to be climbed.

He sighed. A deep tired sigh filled with broken dreams and sorrow.

Suddenly he heard a distant drum start to beat. Thunder? Unable to comprehend he looked up to the sky but the only greeting from the sky was a painful light that pierced his brain. He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the darkness.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty-five

***Location; Old Market Square Ki Baratan; Romulus***

With her arms firmly wrapped around the one thing that made life worth living, that brought meaning to this existence, Dhanishta glowed with happiness, a beaming smile cemented on her face. As she held him close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against hers, his breath across her shoulder making her hair flutter in its wake, she opened her eyes, intent to look up to the heavens and thank whatever gods rested above for this act of mercy. Yet her eyes fell upon Baile before they even reached the top of the tree line.

For the first time since meeting him out in the forest she saw the dishevelled state he was in. The dried blood that coated everything he wore was mixed with the blackest mud she had ever seen. His shaved head was littered with scratches cuts and bruises. The rings that surrounded his amber eyes were darker then the nights sky.

And then her eyes widened, she felt her whole body flush with heat. Lurching forward, almost forgetting that Michael was still in her arms, she reached out to Baile, screaming his name in a fevered pitch over the sounds of those celebrating.

Completely bewildered Michael took a step back, grabbing hold of Dhanishta in his arms, searching her face, "Whaaaattttt?" his voice drawled out.

A voice called his name from afar. His ears registered it slowly, calling his attention through the haze in his mind. He turned around towards the sound, squinting against the light.

God. He had never been so tired in his whole life.

It wasn't the streets, littered with rubble he saw. Nor was it the burning houses around him. He didn't even see the survivors trying to find each other in a sort of sorrow filled joy. All he could see was three eyes. And in them he saw... fear? No... hate.

He had seen hate many a times. He had seen hate directed at humans but not at him. He had seen hate, pure and as dark as the night hurled at him like spears of damnation.

The hate he saw came at him like one of those spears. The Hydran hated him and feared him at the same time.

'What have I done to you to make you hate me like that?' He wondered silently to himself, not sure if he had said the words out loud or if they had stayed in the corners of his mind.

Dhanishta batted Michael's hands away, she understood his confusion, yet there wasn't time to explain. Her eyes never left Baile as she fought to free herself from the loving and concerned grip of Michael. He hadn't seen what was coming, how could he? How could she? She didn't know, but she saw it, and felt it and her eyes were already streaming with the pain it caused.

Baile never saw the weapon in the Hydran's hand. He never saw it fire.

It struck Baile he had not visited Maya's grave like he had promised. It bothered him for some reason.

Then something else struck him. The bolt of energy slammed into him with the force of a small truck. Baile's body twisted violently to the side from the force of the impact. Screams started rising around him but the rest of the world was fading.

"NOOOO!"

The scream that filled the air was full of so much anguish and pain. The struggle with Michael had lasted mere seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. Free from his grip Dhanishta proceeded to run across the square, yet it was like running through water; some force unseen held her back, forced the seconds to stretch on, the voices around her droned out, elongated by the twisted mind of time.

The marine stood still. His torso was still turned sharply to the side. Then, without even knowing it he smiled. It was a smile the world was not a part of. He smiled at irony. At fate. At Death whom he had served for so long.

He smiled at the ones that had messed him up in the Hydran Temple.

He smiled at everything and nothing.

Slowly the smile faded. His strength faded.

The world turned. Or was it him? He didn't know. He brought a hand up to his chest where it had started to hurt.

Blood.

His blood.

He smelled it on his fingertips. It even smelled different than it had done before. More... He lost the thought.

He tried to make the legs move, but they refused.

The battered, bruised and dying marine sank down on one knee. He sat there for a second, his head lowered against the ground.

He sank down on both knees, his strength, that incredible strength that had kept him going for, oh so many miles had finally left him.

He had always thought he would die on some unnamed planet somewhere, which all in all would have been fine. But maybe now, if the gods, in which he didn't believe, smiled at him, he would be buried next to Maya? Not that he deserved it, but the thought made him relax.

The massive shoulders slumped and he started to sway. He had only survived this long thanks to whatever had happened to him in the Temple. Had he been human he would have died the second the bolt struck him. He knew all that. Knew it from the bottom of his heart.

Still it would have been better to die instantly.

There was so much he hadn't done and so much he had done.

Slowly the marine closed his eyes one last time and fell on his side onto the broken ground.

And then in a flash she was at his side, dust clouds erupted from her feet as she slid to the ground, choking on tears and pain, the shock shaking her violently. She looked over his body screaming his name with such emotion that it burned her throat. She pawed at his body assessing where he was shot, thankful that her normal vision had returned yet at the same time cursing the tears that misted her eyes so much that she simply couldn't see through the blur. "I need a medic!" she screamed into the air as she brought a trembling bloodstained hand up to her lips to stifle the screams that erupted.

"MEDIC!" she shouted once more stealing a moment to glance back at the crowd that had formed. Pressing her hand firmly on the wound in the center of his chest she looked at his paled face and gently caressed his cheek, "Your gonna be fine Jebidiah." she said in a wobbling voice, hoping that he still had enough strength to hear her, "It's nothing… your gonna be fine…"

"MEDIC!"

Love arises unexpectedly. Bonds are formed through the most challenging situations. Love, hate, fear, joy, hope, despair; all of them emotions. Chemical reactions within the brain. We can no more switch them off than we can refrain from breathing. They are the things that make us inherently 'human'. Experience. It defines us, shapes us, changes our perspective, challenges us with its complexities. Without them we would be meaningless…

On the other side of the square, unaware of dying marine, Steven stood, surrounded by the remnants of the 188th Furies detachment, in the center of Ki Baratan, the cries for a medic in the distance lost as he looked upon the carnage. The Hydrans were defeated and were dead or, like the loudspeaker was saying, fleeing, yet despite all the cheering and whoops of joy that sounded, Steven didn't feel like celebrating. Much like Norma Jean, so many of his young charges lay dead in the streets, having been butchered by the Hydran onslaught. That it was over mattered not. He had lost part of his soul here. Lying with each and every marine from the 188th that lay in the gutters, on the streets, under rubble, wherever they were, those that were not going home, each held a piece of him.

They had been dedicated to the cause, trained well, better than most of the units that were deployed, - Cheron has seen to that, - and yet they had perished. Surrounded by their comrades they had fought and sadly were not coming home. He and Bran were going to have the unenviable task of writing the letters home to their families, praising the wonderful job their son or daughter had done for the unit. It wasn't something he was looking forward to.

And then there was Faylin. She had left him, a virtual low blow so to speak and it was eating him up inside. She had changed in the early hours of the morning and he had no idea what had triggered it. He felt his heart waiver at the mere thought of her.

Victory had come at too great a cost, so Steven believed. Sure, they had beaten a force with many times their number of soldiers, but the point was the defending forces had sacrificed too much for the hollow victory that he now felt. It would take the Rihannsu people years to fix all the damage caused by the Hydran war machine, yet it would be many, many more before the people of ch'Rihan would recover, both in spirit and in numbers.

Looking around at the cheering people he thought of what lay in the streets beyond, the rotting corpses, the blood and guts, the stench. It was all too much for the battle-hardened Marine to bear and despite years of training and many a long night drinking in the Marine Academy pub, he threw up on the ground.

"Break the Sword of Justice" -- pt. 4

(brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Brendan Mullen, Acting First Officer (NPC)
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Gwen Parri, Acting Chief Medical Officer
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
Ensign Lela Beral, OPS Officer

"We have unwelcome visitors."

The captain's response carried a weight far greater than just four words, and everyone on the bridge could feel it.

As could those beyond . .. .

"All right people!" Gwendolyn called out. "Action stations everybody.

Let's make sure everything runs move. Medics be at your post, and remember triage from the beginning. I know it's difficult playing God, but it is the only way we are going to get through this."

* * *

Back on the bridge, Marcus' fingers flew over the controls of the bridge's engineering station and then he smiled, "Captain, I can rig two type nine hazardous materials forcefields around two of the major junctions that the intruders are in if you want them!" Marcus shouted over the din of combat.

"If it'll stop any intruders, I'm all for it," Brian replied.

Threads of pure malice extended from the Exeter's phaser arrays, rushing toward their nearby targets. Two more escorts converged on the Ambassador class cruiser's location, and it still couldn't shake away the umbilical cord tying it to Escort beit four.

The surrounding allied vessels were knee deep in their own pond of troubles, and the Exeter was left alone like a single knight trying to drive away three nasty goblins. And one of those goblins had a lasso tied around the knight's neck.

"Captain!" Saul Bental exclaimed. "Permission to execute the Minavel 7 maneuver."

He knew that Captain Brian probably had no idea what that maneuver was, but he trusted Walker to know it by heart. If Saul estimated correctly the strength of the cord, the maneuver will bring them to a position where they could use the main phaser array to severe the cord, instead of Hawkins' PD batteries.

Up at the helm, a knowing smile spread across David's face. His fingers danced over his console, preparing to execute the maneuver, and as he finished inputting the command, he looked up at the viewscreen, waiting on Captain Elessidil's order.

"What the hell is-"

"Do it," Elessidil replied, interrupting Lt. Mullen mid-sentence. He'd really had enough of the other man's interference and presumptions.

Saul Bental grinned slyly as his fingers danced over the Tactical arch. The three-legged bastards wouldn't know what hit them.

***

Cargo Bay 3

When the second encounter with the Hydran fleet had begun, cargo bay three was mostly just a large empty room with random supplies and containers stacked neatly at various intervals.

That changed quickly.

How the Hydrans got through the Exeter's still functioning shields remained a mystery, but the object they'd affixed to the ship's hull had already begun transporting its occupants into the relatively empty bay. The Hydran invaders lost no time heading for the door that would lead them into the corridors beyond, where they would conquer the ship from the inside.

As the bridge responded to the threat, forcefields went up all around the bay and security teams quickly filled the surrounding areas, ready to defend against the Hydrans' advance. As the captain had suspected, the Hydrans didn't waste much time getting through the forcefields, and combat with the Exeter's crew erupted immediately.

"Break the Sword of Justice" -- pt. 5

(brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Brendan Mullen, Acting First Officer (NPC)
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Gwen Parri, Acting Chief Medical Officer
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
Ensign Lela Beral, OPS Officer

The Minavel 7 maneuver was one of those created by accident rather than by design, and its use was not recommended because it relied on an unpredictable series of twists and turns that many helmsmen were incapable of executing correctly. One of David's Academy classmates, a brash young man from New Texas, was particularly fond of performing the Minavel 7, especially when it was least expected. At the time he had hated the bastard for it, but now David could only smile as he realized that he probably wouldn't have the maneuver down as well as he did if not for him.

Barking out a short warning for the bridge crew to brace themselves, David tapped a button on his console. Suddenly the image on the viewscreen began to spin incoherently as the Exeter started into a sharp roll, and David struggled to keep his fingers on the correct buttons as the ship's inertial dampers strained against the massive G-forces created by the maneuver.

From an outside perspective, it looked as if the Exeter had suddenly gone into convulsions. It spun wildly, its impulse engines flaring slightly, before rolling and twisting about, the seemingly ungainly Ambassador-class starship suddenly capering through the void like a vessel half its age. The veteran dancer, nearly forced into retirement by injuries, had returned to the stage for one final number, and she was performing brilliantly.

At the back of the bridge, Saul removed his eyes from the whirling imagery coming through the view screen. Despite feeling slightly nauseated, he punched the final sequence of the maneuver.

Still moving the, the Exeter flung the cord in a complex pattern, and then suddenly the cord lined up with the ship's main phasers.

As planned.

An unearthly shout came through the Dutchman's throat as the ship cut through the cord, the tied knight wielding the sword of justice and severing the goblin's lasso. Sparkles spread and vanished in space as the cord split in two. But that wasn't all.

The escort which launched the cord was diverted from its original flying vector, its Hydran pilots caught unprepared. It was like a ship trying to negotiate a star's gravity well when someone suddenly turned off gravity.

The Exeter's beams didn't die. Instead, they intensified and passed the cord, stretching on and on. They reached the escort, and tore through shields and bioarmor until coming through the other side.

The knight pulled his bleeding sword from the dead goblin's corpse.

"Oh yea." The Tactical chief murmured, quite satisfied.

Grinning wildly, David brought the Exeter out of the Minavel 7 and smoothly shifted into a more orthodox set of combat maneuvers. He spared a quick moment to look around at the rest of the bridge crew, his grin only widening at the looks on their faces as they tried to recover from the disorientation. The queasiness etched across Mullen's face was particularly pleasing.

"Well done, Ensign," Elessidil noted, his voice a little tentative as he blinked his eyes widely a few times, trying to dispel the maneuver's effects. He was thankful he hadn't had time to eat anything recently.

A few moments after the second escort followed the fate of the first one, Lela got an idea.

"Captain, what about recalibrating inner sensors to search for unknown DNA code and than give an order to the transports to transport all found DNA off the ship? If we transport them directly on the hull, but from the outer side, we would not have to drop shields. Hopefully they can not survive in the space."

"They won't... I like it." Saul Bental chuckled from the Tactical arch. "Can we actually tag them for transport?"

Elessidil liked the idea too, but it died before he could even approve its implementation.

"They've already thought of that," Mullen chimed in, obviously not pleased with what he'd discovered from his readings from the auxiliary Ops station. "They have anti-transport devices in place. We can't lock onto anything, let alone guarantee who we'd be locking onto."

"Break the Sword of Justice" -- pt. 6

(brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Brendan Mullen, Acting First Officer (NPC)
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Gwen Parri, Acting Chief Medical Officer
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
Ensign Lela Beral, OPS Officer

"They've already thought of that," Mullen chimed in, obviously not pleased with what he'd discovered from his readings from the auxiliary Ops station. "They have anti-transport devices in place. We can't lock onto anything, let alone guarantee who we'd be locking onto."

"Possibly explains why they didn't beam onto the ship once they pierced the shields," Saul added.

Brian fought hard to keep from being overwhelmed with desperation. The Exeter had managed to hold its own so far against their attackers on the outside, but no one had expected a successful boarding.

Then a new idea came to him, one he wasn't sure he actually had the guts to enact.

"Lieutenant Gear, order all security forces to fall back to forty meters down the corridor from the bay. Ensign Beral, override automatic controls and lock the door from the corridor in the open position, then open the bay doors." Setting his jaw, Brian gave the next order. "On my mark, set force fields in place at forty meters and drop the bay's external containment field. We're going to de-pressurize the cargo bay."

Lieutenant Mullen's head whipped around from his console. "You can't do that! We have our own people in that area!"

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant," Brian firmly countered. "I'm giving our teams ten seconds to fall back behind those force fields."

"That's not enough time!" Mullen continued to argue, rising from his seat. "What if-"

"It will have to be enough time!" Elessidil interrupted. It had been difficult enough to convince himself to execute such a plan, he certainly didn't need to have to debate the issue with his first officer.

"Ensign Beral, don't you dare de-pressurize that bay!" Mullen shouted without even a shred of any semblance of regard for the captain's authority.

Brian shot up from the command chair. This time, he'd had enough.

"STAND DOWN LIEUTENANT BEFORE I HAVE YOU SHOT FOR INSUBORDINATION!"

For a second, time stood still on the bridge of the Exeter as the Captain and first officer locked glares.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Mullen noticed that not only Elessidil's wrath was directed at him. The annoying man at Tactical produced a nasty looking weapon, and his grin was not unlike the grin he had just before blowing up the first Romulan escort.

In fact, Saul Bental was quite surprised by the Captain's idea. If anything, it was more expected for the idea to come from Mullen, and for the Captain to counter it. But lines were drawn in the sand, and if anyone on the bridge knew where he stood it was Lieutenant Bental.

There were moments that made David happy that nobody on the bridge could see his face, and this was one of those moments. A wave of unease passed through him as the situation behind him had started to break down, and for perhaps half a heartbeat he wondered if placing Elessidil in command of the Exeter really was the best decision. Being new to the Galaxy, David knew next to nothing about most of its crew.

But Saul seemed to trust Elessidil implicitly, and that was enough for David. His decision made, the helmsman straightened in his seat and returned his focus to the battle surrounding the Exeter, allowing the situation behind him to play out in whichever manner fate decided.

Mullen looked about to the other faces on the bridge, a hint of uneasiness tempering his defiant stance. Had the situation been different, had Elessidil not stacked the deck in his own favor by filling the bridge with officers of his own choosing instead of officers from the Exeter's original crew -- officers who may very well have put their loyalty behind Mullen -- the scene could have played out much differently. But in this version of reality, he knew he'd been overruled.

Finally rid of Mullen's interference, at least for the moment, Brian turned his attention back to the situation with the Hydrans. "Ensign Beral, on my mark . . . ."

Several more seconds ticked away in Elessidil's head, then he did what he knew had to be done. "Now!"

Lela did not like the idea about decompression more than Mullen, she was sure, that she can overcome those inhibitors, but when she received an order from him not to obey the captain, she knew, what she has to do.

'To hell with Mullen, he has no right to oppose the captain in this way.

He should go to the court martial for this.'

But Lela improved the operation slightly. Just before she decompressed the area, she shut off the gravity generators beneath the Hydrans. She has to smile, when she imagined, how they at first lift off the ground, and before they could do something about that, they were sucked into space.

"All done sir, Hydrans are out. Should I close the bay?"

From a purely mechanical standpoint, the plan went exactly as planned.

When the containment field fell, the resulting depressurization sucked everything and everyone in the cargo bay and the corridor beyond out into space. Brian gave the order to raise the field again and re-pressurize the bay.

Then he silently prayed the plan had succeeded beyond its merely mechanical execution.

"Security, report."

Everyone waited to hear the final word from Security, but none more than the captain. It was something of a gamble; in that, Mullen had been right. But Brian also knew that if they didn't stop the Hydrans it would only be a matter of time before a lot more of the Exeter's young crew lost their lives.

"Sir," Lieutenant Gear began, still receiving information from the security teams. "One crewman didn't get behind the forcefield in time . . ."

Elessidil's heart sank. Some would argue that one life wasn't a bad price to pay for saving countless more, but from the vantage point of the command chair, Brian felt differently.

Rico grinned, filling in the rest of the information as he received it. ". . . he was able to hang onto the doorway from the corridor.

He made it."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Brian softly replied. On the outside, he was only grinning, but inside he was cheering.

"Something from the Lyrans," Lieutenant Mullen interrupted, noting a quick fleet-wide broadcast he was listening to after having slunk back to the auxiliary Ops station.

"Look!" someone called out.

All eyes turned to the main viewscreen and witnessed the immediate aftermath of the Starbeast's destruction.

"The Return" pt I

Captain Daren M'Kantu (Robert)
Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara (Kat)
Lt. Commander MacKenzie Todd (Kate)
Lieutenant Michael Jam(e)son (Noam)
Lieutenant 8-Ball Hunter (Kylee)
Lieutenant Raven Darkstar (Joe)
Lieutenant Valieria zh'Theran (Pat)
Lieutenant JG T'Rehn (NPC)
Ensign T'Liera (NPC)

--------------------
USS Galaxy
Deck 1, Bridge
(Early in the Battle)
----------------------

Daren frowned at the main screen and wished for the twelfth time that he had a cup of coffee. He could have had one - or five for that matter - there were plenty of replicators still working to have made one, but he'd passed on it before the battle. Few things, in his experience, were as disheartening to a crew as their CO hopping from one foot to the other in order to control his bladder while making the hundred life-or-death decisions a minute required by a combat command in an action like this one.

All around the Galaxy the Second Battle of Romulus was underway; it was the largest space battle since the Dominion War, and in truth, dwarfed many of those engagements. Romulans, Klingons, Remans, and Federation ships - including a number of vessels belonging to the home defense fleets of some Federation members, and at least two dozen ships that belonged to mercenary companies and private individuals who had volunteered their services in the battle - spun in a dance with those of the Hydrans and their allies like dueling schools of fish, or flocks of birds. And hovering in the background, awaiting the orders to unleash it once the Hydrans got over the initial surprise of the assault, was the looming presence of the Starbeast.

Lieutenant Valeria zh'Theran pressed her earpiece tightly against her head as she kept the other ear on the bridge. It was difficult to monitor so many communications, what with something like 2400 active starships in immediate local space - not to mention any transmissions that might seep through the shield around the planet, or the thousands of starfighters darting between the capital ships like angry bees.

Still, she waited, and she listened, until she had something to pass on.

"Anything on the scans to locate the source of the jamming, Lieutenant Hunter?" Daren asked with a frown.

8-Ball glared at her panel, willing it to display something useful instead of the irritating inconclusive results that it had shown since their return to the Romulus system. "Nothing yet, sir," she replied, proud that the shakiness she felt inside was not present in her words.

This was as bad as the first Battle of Romulus, maybe worse - there were certainly more ships present this time, more chances for someone to slip a beam or torpedo in and take out the Bridge - and her with it. Still. the faster she found the source of the jamming, the faster that the automated systems could come back on and make the chance that would happen that much smaller. "I'm concentrating on the T'Kith'Kin vessels now, sir. Most of the jamming signals at the Battle of Havras came from them, so they're the best bet for the ones responsible for this." She was *not* going to surrender her chance for a night of passion - any night of passion - to a damned cockroach, like the ones she'd squashed on the floor of the Big Man's bar as a child!

'Come out come out where ever you are...' Jamson stared at the viewscreen, his mind filled with thoughts of what was about to become.

The anticipation was eating him from the inside, and patience was never his strong suit. He preferred action, to follow his emotions and instincts even when they proved to be wrong. This has served him well for the majority of life, and helped him more than once, for the good and the bad.

Long had he dreamed of a glorious battle, since the days of the Dominion War. It was in that time that he excelled, by commanding his own vessel and taking part in some of the most ferocious and fearsome fights. Fighting was a way of life, and he was damn good at it, not baby sitting star bases and other ships. After so long of hiding in the shadows, the battle of Romulus and continuous part which was taking place, brought back all that was dormant inside the agonized man for years.

"All right, Lieutenant, but don't get trapped into ignoring other possible sources," Daren nodded. Eyeing a cluster of ships shifting position, he nodded towards the main screen. "Commander Todd, do something about those Hydran frigates coming around to make a run on the Exeter, please. Standard phasers and photons only - save the Cannon for the Hydran carrier at Point Seven-Nine."

"I caught them sir," MacKenzie said, "initiating first barrage with fore armaments." Mackenzie lined the cannons up on the target with a quick, gentle finesse. The Galaxy's phaser cannons and torpedoes danced over one another, bearing full force into the Hydran's hull.

The torpedos weakened the shield, punching small holes; she followed them with well placed phaser bolts, threading them through the small holes. The phasers lanced through the hulls, the first blast knocked out the propulsion controls of one of the ships; the second ship was cut nearly in half, several decks exposed to open space. On both a cascade of internal explosions were visible. A passing Klingon K'Vort-class ship picked them both off.

"Bloody Remans..." Jamson thought as he watched the blue points on his console running around. It represented all the ships in the fleet, with designations and numbers providing information. He never would have thought to have Remans on his side. He always imagined them on the opposite side, as a sworn enemy. He could have said the same thing about the Romulans, but that wasn't so strange after all. But unlike the Romulan dogs, or the detestable Cardies, or spoon heads if you may, Remans had honor and they were considered to be, fearless warriors. That alone, gave them enough points in Michael's odd species' scale.

-- Battle Bridge --

On the Battle Bridge, Iniara stabbed a finger at the carrier as the Galaxy made a turn, "Put everything we have on that carrier," she snapped out. "The more of them we take out now, the fewer fighters they'll get launched!"

"Aye, sir," came the calm reply from T'Liera, the Vulcan at Tactical.

She quickly tapped out a sequence of commands on her console. In response, the entire aft armaments of the Galaxy flared to life in a flurry of phaser beams and torpedo launches that cracked the Hydran open like an egg sending unlaunched fighters spilling out like unborn young before the parent vessel's explosion consumed them.

"Target destroyed, sir."

"Good, good." Iniara frowned as a second Hydran carrier appeared behind the wreckage of the first, its large bay doors already beginning to open. "Focus on the one coming to take its place. T'Rehn, shields status."

"Shields at eighty three percent and holding, sir," T'Rehn stated, her fingers doing their own dance across the Ops console. Meanwhile, T'Liera's fingers performed their own dance, causing the aft phaser banks and torpedo launchers to light up once more. The resultant wave of firepower tore through the half-open fighter bay and split the massive Hydran carrier almost in half.

"The Return" pt II

Captain Daren M'Kantu (Robert)
Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara (Kat)
Lt. Commander MacKenzie Todd (Kate)
Lieutenant Michael Jam(e)son (Noam)
Lieutenant 8-Ball Hunter (Kylee)
Lieutenant Raven Darkstar (Joe)
Lieutenant Valieria zh'Theran (Pat)
Lieutenant JG T'Rehn (NPC)
Ensign T'Liera (NPC)

--------------------
USS Galaxy
Deck 1, Bridge
(Later)
----------------------

-- Primary Bridge --

Part of Jamson's job was to monitor the fleet, along with helm and tactical. Many of the systems were not operational from the last battle, and it turned daily tasks that were once performed by pressing a single button, daunting. No one knew what happened, and time was running short. Without some of the systems running on automatic, and with no immediate help of the computers, in some cases, a lot of calculations and checking had to be done, by actually using one's brain and not relying on the ships' computers.

That affected everything onboard the ships and the entire fleet in general. From environmental systems to sensors. Most important, were the tactical systems. Officers were targeting the enemy by using old fashioned 'positioning and pointing' techniques. Something had to be done, or many wouldn't make it. It was already hard to watch the human resources numbers depleting slowly. There was a theory of the T'Kith'kin ships jamming signals and causing all this mess. If there was anything worse than Romulans, Vulcans and Bolians, it was bugs....

The suprise appearance of the Lyrans - even if they'd been a haphazard, rag-tag Fleet, and the destruction of the Starbeast (which had led to quite a bit of cheering on the Galaxy's bridge, and many others, Daren imagined) had set the tide of battle firmly in the allies favor. Not long after the hole had appeared in the shield over Romulus, fighters had brought it down entirely, and even now almost a million Allied ground troops were descending on the planet's surface.

They Hydrans, especially, were weak and demoralized, their ships fighting erratically - which merely threw the Breen and T'Kith'Kin forces into further confusion. There was an inescapable feeling across Galaxy's bridge - they were going to *win* this one.

8-Ball's face suddenly lit up like she'd opened her cabin doors and found four male exotic dancers with Romulan Ale and Chocolates waiting for her. "Got them!" she called out. "The systems jamming is coming from three T'Kith'Kin ships spread around the Hydran fleet equidistantly! I'm uploading positioning data to Tactical now!" Stop her from enjoying a hot night with a good man and a better drink would they? Not likely!

"Good," Daren snapped. "Upload the information to the Miranda - let's get those ships taken out now!"

-- Battle Bridge --

"Sir, the source of the jamming signal has been located," T'Liera called out as the data appeared on her display. "Three T'Kith'Kin ships positioned within the main Hydran fleet."

Iniara spun her chair about, practically leaping towards the Tactical console behind her. A wicked smile crossed her lips as she studied the display, while beside her T'Liera continued to systematically dispatch any enemy craft that ventured too close to the Galaxy. A split second later she felt the thrum of the engines shift as the ship changed course to intercept one of the three ships.

"T'Liera, maintain current course of action. Take out anything that gets too close," she told the Tactical officer. "T'Rehn, keep a constant check on the shields. No weak spots."

Sliding back into her seat, Iniara continued in a slightly louder voice. "Captain, we are prepared to defend the entire ship, should you wish to concentrate all forward firepower on the T'Kith'Kin vessel."

-- Primary Bridge --

"Sir...although we lack the time, I strongly suggest we avoid destroying the T'Kith'kin ships before we check our systems and shields. We are unsure of the nature of their jamming systems and sensors. We don't know what could happen if we destroy one of these ships... an explosion could neutralize some of the ships in the area"

Michael was quick to comment.

"I ran it through the combat trajectories already, Captain," MacKenzie said, never looking up from her displays as she ran the algorithms, her long fingers coasting over the console in front of her as though she was a concert pianist at a beautiful baby grand. "Using the specs from the last battle, destruction is within our risk parameters. I'm coordinating with the Battle Bridge as well as with the tactical officers on the other ships and clearing the space as much as possible."

"Maybe neutralizing them would prove to be a preferable option?"

Jamson asked, "Either way, I believe we need to scan the T'Kith'kin ships to determine our next course of action".

"No worries, Jamson, I'm doing my job," MacKenzie said, cracking half a smile, "Lieutenant Darkstar, forwarding flight plan request to helm now; Captain I am aligning targeting scanners; it'll be messy, but it'll get the job done and we'll make it in one piece. May not be pretty, but there's no time to worry about the artwork now."

"Have the Fleet CAG be certain that the fighters know to be clear of the area," Daren directed. "They're too small to withstand any possible feedback and they'll be dead in space if there is a backlash and they're caught in it. And double-check with our non-fleet allies to make certain that they get the message. I do not want to accidentally wipe out the people that came here to help us."

"Passing the word, Captain." Lieutenant zh'Theran replied, and promptly did so. While she was doing so, 'Commander Todd set about to neutralize the closest of the jamming vessels, starting off with a blast from the phaser cannon that shook the Galaxy's decks. Other ships moved in on the other targets.

That had been the Triad's last advantage in this fight, and their forces knew it.

"Captain.." zh'Theran called across the bridge. "Signal from the flagship - the Triad forces are retreating!" she yelled, exhibiting an exuberance she'd never before shown. "We've WON!"

Daren hadn't thought there could have been more cheering than when the Star Beast died.

He was wrong.

"Second Strike, Part IV"

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
LtJG Chris Daniels, CIC Coordinator

Something in the Lyran language blasted across the comm channels as the alien ships went into the belly of the beast - and then, in a synchronized operation, all twelve ships detonated thier warp cores, self destructing INSIDE the massive alien creature.

Once the screen's brightness went back to normal it was clear the beast was no longer a threat.

Jaal grinned a determined smile. "Time to go back on the offensive.

K'aa, target the nearest enemy ship and open fire until it's gone." It was a Breen cruiser whose shields had just failed thanks some of the smaller ships in the fleet.

The Miranda was a little cooked in spots but still had most of its functionality. In other words, it was a long, long way from being taken out.

[Bridge, CIC], Chris' voice came over the comm. The reason for his deflation by Admiral Murdock gone, he began to focus on the next issue. [Weapons systems at 90% functionality. One torp tube and a secondary phaser capacitor are offline, and we've lost one of the tac sensor quads, but other than that we are good to go. CIC's a little broken, but we're still able to track and communicate..and fire.]

There was no hiding the excited venom in the Lieutenant's last statement.

The acting captain was already plotting the course for the next nearest ship.

The hissing growl of the large reptilian manning the tactical station brought some current tactical data. "Ssss.... there'sss masssive confusssion in the Hydran fleet. Their firing patternsss are becoming more erratic. Ssssome of the sssmaller warcraft are breaking orbit and going to warp. Breen and T'Kith'Kin shipsss remain unaffected.

Hrrrsss... the Klingonsss have engaged the bulk of the Breen fleet.

The Rihansssu and Remansss continue to focussss on the Hydran flank."

[K'aa, I have a T'Kith'Kin formation of 4 ships off our front port quarter. Looks like the Starbeast blast damaged their shields. They're going for the Victory's formation. Recommend you take them down.

We're re-routing the Sao Paolo, Endeavor, and Sydney to support. Also, I have Hydran cruiser off our ass, do I still have the aft firing arcs?]

The reptilian examined the tactical display centered on the Miranda.

"Affirmative CIC - aft firing arcsss are yoursss." Free to focus only on the fore targets, K'aa made the best of the opportunity. Although the Hydrans were no longer feeding the main cannon with through Ensign Tagra's shield modification, the heavy cannon was still the best weapon to pierce the thick organic shells of the T'Kith'Kin's living starships.

Sure enough, four insectoid ships had been struck by the Starbeast and had lost a significant ammount of the flea-like shield generators with the impact. K'aa fired upon the targets with the main cannon and quantum torpedoes, and soon each T'Kith'Kin ship trailed chitinous shell, coral-like superstructure, and bright emerald plasma. The Endeavor and Sydney persued, while the Sao Paolo clung to the Miranda's course.

K'aa also kept a large yellow eye on the battle overview display.

"Captain, three Lyran heavy cruisersss have joined our attack vector - two to port and one to ssstarboard. Their Expanding Sssphere Generatorsss are online and are acting like a fighter defence - ssshould we continue focusssing on the T'Kith'Kin flank, or ssstrike clossser to their command cruisersss?"

Jaal checked his own tactical displays against the Miranda current condition.

They were odds he liked.

"Let's go for the throat," the Trill announced. "Set course for the command ship, attack speed. Dakota, let the rest of our attack group and the Lyrans know what we're doing." Jaxom had been involved in enough fighting to know when victory was close. Now that the starbeast was gone Starfleet and her allies had an advantage... now was the time to make use of it.

He quickly entered a list of targets. The Miranda would dive into the central command group of the enemy fleet dealing damage with the phaser canons and quantum torpedoes to bring down shields or cripple further any damaged ships. The rest of the attack group would follow and mop up while the Lyrans expanding sphere generators kept the enemy fighters off their backs.

As that was going on, Alex tracked the reports from the Galaxy on three T'Ktih'Kin ships that were broadcasting a systems-jamming field.

Miranda's systems had been shielded against the effects of it, as had several of the other newer vessels - the Intel officer suspected it was a side effect of the Atlantis technology that was being used in many ships now.

Yet another hint of an ancient connection between the Preservers and the T'Kith'Kin? Alex couldn't help but wonder - but it was damn sure a sign for another day.

Jaal also noted the USS Panther following the Miranda. It made him smile a little wider. It was the ship he's served on directly before coming to the Miranda five years prior.

[Bridge, CIC. Got a positive spike on a ship broadcast a command signal to the rest of the enemy fleet much like we are. All weapons ready. K'aa, you get that bastard and we'll cover you. Our fangs our out, let's use 'em]. Daniels held up his end of the deal by using the CIC controls to fire on several of the T'Kith'Kin and remaining Breen ships around them...leaving the prize for the bridge and the big guns.

A klicking growl spoke of K'aa's pleasure as he locked all fore weapons on the massive T'Kith'Kin command ship and powered the tractor/repulsor. "I have targeted what passssess for their engineering section. Our lasst transssphassic torpedoesss armed, fore phassser array and main cannon at the ready awaiting your command, Captain. Hrsss... our claws are ready... and there are inssssects to prey upon."

Jaal leaned forward in the command chair, held his hand out in front of him and slowly balled it tightly into a fist then gave it a shake.

He gritted his teeth together and gave the word.

"Fire."

The crowning jewel in Starfleet's armada unleashed the full power of its offensive weapon systems. The transphasic torpedo was the cherry on top of the triple decker ice cream sundae. The T'Kith'Kin command ship, wounded already by "debris" from the Starbeast... simply ceased to exist in a maelstrom of energy.

Down in the CIC, Chris had had to turn away from the holotable as the nearby ships exploded in a brilliance of light. When he turned around, he smiled and keyed his headset to the Bridge. He tried to hide the excitement in his voice, but odds are he didn't do a good job.

[Bridge! Reports show that the Triad fleet is a mess! The Breen are bugging out already, the Hydrans are in disarray around the planet, and the T'Kith'Kin Fleet is trying to regroup and get the hell out of here beyond the battlespace. Allied forces are moving in to remove the remainder of the shield and landing ground forces.] What the bridge didn't see was Chris turn to say what he said next. Even though it was intended for Admiral Murdock, it sounded just as good over the Bridge speakers.

[You got 'em Sir!]

"WE got'em Lieutenant," Commander Jaxom answered. "New course, best speed to Romulus. Now we mop up what's left around the planet and get our people back."

"A moment, Captain." K'aa hissed from Tactical, his large eyes never leaving the display before him. "Many of the T'Kith'Kin shield-creaturesss were dissslodged fully intact and operational during the battle. Cargo-bay two isss empty, and I have a containment field in effect - permisssion to beam one aboard? The learning potential issss ssignigicant."

Jaal's eyes narrowed in thought. Here was an excellent opportunity for some intelligence gathering on the enemy. "If it means that much to ya, take two. Make sure they're thoroughly contained."

Alex practically looked giddy at the notion.

"Understood sssir". The clicking of K'aa's claws on his controls increased as the neccessary commands and safety protocols were given.

"They're aboard Captain, and Commander Ssspaan'sss people have been informed." The Gorn's tapping became louder still as he hovered over sensor display. "I now have ssseveral Hydran ground targetsss on tactical for your consssideration."

Jaal's display flickered to a schematic display of the enemy military intsallations on ch'Rihan, each target listed according to its relative power output. "Hrssss... it'sss sssafe to asssume that without fleet sssuport, the ground armor and infantry ssshould fold quickly - but ssshould more...sssss... firm rhetoric be required, the main cannon isss once again fully charged."

The Trill tapped firing coordinates into the chair's arm panel, "I think at this point we'll 'start' with the firm rhetoric. You have the coordinates for the first strike." He turned to face the other side of the bridge, "Dakota, start a search for Starfleet commbadge signals."

It took several minutes for the Miranda to achieve the correct orbit for the ground assault, during which K'aa labored over the tactical intel coming through the fore scanners. The targets had to be of strategic importance – something that could cripple the Hydran infantry but not harm the Rihansu infrastructure or POW's. Not for the first time, the Gorn blessed the recent upgrade to the starship's tactical sensor net. When the Miranda reached the correct coordinates, he had three prime targets from a list of dozens.

"Commencing bombardment on Ground Target One – a command and communication nexusss". A now familiar rattling of the deck plates began a dirge for the Hydran occupational forces, followed by the high-pitched squeal of the forward torpedo launcher. The pace of the assault lacked the adrenaline-fueled rush of starship combat – the targeting was exactingly precise, the targets immobile, and lacked the shields necessary to withstand the overwhelming firepower of a Type XX cannon. In a span of ten minutes, a munitions supply hub and armor maintenance facility joined the communication nexus as craters on the surface of ch'Rihan.

For the first time in hours, the Gorn lieutenant stood to his full height and looked away from the displays at his station. "Our… opening argumentssss have been made Captain – all three targetsss have been dessstroyed."

["There's no enemy ships left orbiting Romulus. They're either destroyed, retreating, or being chased off by the rest of the fleet."] Lieutenant Daniels' voice came over the comm from the CIC.

Dakota spun in her chair and announced," Jaal, I'm picking up several commbadge signals in various parts of the Romulan capitol city, aside from all the troops that've been landing over the last two hours."

"Dakota, start contacting those people. We'll get a beam-up que started with the wounded having priority." Jaal settled back in the chair but not too comfortably. There was still a lot of work to do.

Jack's hands played over the two console screens in front of him. The ship was no worse for the wear, but rerouting the power to the systems he needed it to go to was proving to be a bit of a challenge. Moments later, wearing a huge grin, he announced, "I've got the power rerouted to the transporters, Dakota, so whenever you're ready to start beaming people up, I've got all on stand-by including the cargo transporters if need be."

"Well then," Jaxom said, leaning back in the chair. "Let's bring our people home.. and give the Romulans back theirs. You did good today, people. All of us did."

"Doomsday" pt IV

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smith
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Admiral Sela

-----------------------------
The Undercity
"Doomsday" Complex
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal
-----------------------------

Arel raised the rifle, sighted her target, and pulled the trigger.

While it was true that she was better in hand to hand combat and blades, the security officer still felt she was handy with a gun. She pulled the trigger again.

"And to answer your question, Lieutenant," Jii noted, after watching Arel take down the two approaching guards with clean headshots. "Avoid any terminals for now. Just kill the Hydrans, and let's try to leave a prisoner or two. Then we can either figure out how to shut this damn thing off safely, or the Admiral back there can tell us how."

"I don't *know* how to turn it off, Elaithin." Sela muttered bitterly.

"I wasn't even sure the damn thing was real before today."

"You'll forgive me, Sela, if I don't quite believe that." the Bajoran snorted. "Three teams. Jordan, Sela, you're with me. Arel, Kreighoff, Spa'an, you take the left catwalk and circle down. Pete, you and your Marines take the stairwell to the ground floor here. My team will flank around from the right catwalk. Go."

"Aye sir," Pete said as he pointed to his Marines. "Let's go," he ordered and then charged into the stairwell and quickly took out the unsuspecting Hydrans. "Standard zigzag, move," Pete said as he then took point and the three quickly moved down till they where on the bottom floor. "Clear them out, no prisoners."

"Mine," Arel called out before either Kreighoff or Spa'an could take the lead.

Following closely behind, Spa'an moved fleetly, phaser in hand and his keen eyes trained on the path ahead. A moment later, it appeared they had been spotted, as a blast of disruptor fire shot past just over the Vulcan's head. In an instant, Spa'an whirled around and sought out the source of the blast somewhere below. It took only a few milliseconds for him to lock his eyes on the Hydran aggressor and only a millisecond more for him to raise his phaser and dispatch the creature with a couple well-placed shots of his own.

"I recommend all haste," he said to Smith and Kreighoff as he fell in line behind them and resumed course. "Others are sure to spot us very soon." As usual, his tone was firm but calm, even though he knew they could be easily overwhelmed if enough of the Hydrans began firing on them.

Jordan paused, staying in place for half a moment as she stared toward the device and listened to the two other groups moving out, their phaser blasts unveiling their positions, though they kept moving, taking the fire and slowly knocking out the Hydran defenses. Shaw and his Marines were drawing the bulk of the attention, though she knew it wouldn't be too long before Kreighoff and his... unusual situation took over. Again, she was reminded of Slim, and Jordan realized that man alone could likely take the bulk of the resistance in this space.

Which was just fine with her. He could do that-- they had other things they needed to handle, not the least of which was the planet killer right in the middle of the open area.

Pulling her eyes from the events in front of her, events she was barely seeing, Jordan looked to her husband, who was standing, saying something, but his voice was less in the shape of words and more akin to simple sounds muffled behind wads of cotton in her ears. She set a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes.

"A moment," she stated, voice soft, perhaps not even a voice.

In a solid chess gambit, especially in one where one player has significantly fewer pieces, the best strategy was to focus the advantaged player on a different piece of the board: make him think something else no less threatening is happening when really, the strategy laid elsewhere. For example, 'checking' with a queen/rook combination before making the mate with little more than the king and a couple well-placed pawns.

"We can't do it all. Let them play their role."

Jii nodded in understanding at her simple statement - it was part of the shorthand that couples married so long, who'd been to hell and back, had. They needed very few words to understand each other. Still, even waiting didn't mean their own path would be clear - as evidenced by the trio (why did everything have to be in threes with them?) of Hydrans that were coming their way. Elaithin and Sela sighted them simultaneously, just as Jii pushed Jordan behind him. He hardly needed to; she was more than capable of protecting herself. Instinctive habit, however, was harder to ignore than even the glare she continued to cast even after the three Hydrans were on the ground.

--

On their side of things, Arel, Kreighoff and Spa'an had their hands full. True to the Vulcan's prediction, more of the Hydrans had sighted the group and were starting to open fire.

For awhile, Spa'an continued to fire back, taking out a few along the way, but he found it becoming progressively more challenging to find opportunities to return fire without being hit. Crouching along the catwalk behind a protrusion in the mechanical infrastructure, he decided to try a means of eliminating their Hydran foes more efficiently than one-by-one. A grenade of some sort would have been useful, but he hadn't come prepared to battle large groups, so he had to improvise, something Vulcans were pretty good at when push came to shove. Setting his phaser to overload, he waited as the resulting whine increased in pitch and volume... waiting... waiting... and then at just the right moment, he reached out from his position of cover and launched it into the cluster of Hydrans below. A flash and an explosion later, he'd relieved some of the pressure on himself and his two companions.

"Commander," he then said, addressing Arel matter-of-factly, "it would appear that I am now without a weapon. I am correct to assume that you have perhaps come prepared with more than one of your own?" He knew the woman well enough to know that as someone designed to fight by training and by temperament, she wasn't likely to put herself in a potentially life-threatening situation without ensuring that no matter what, if she went down, she would go down with phasers a-blazing. He hoped her generosity could match her preparedness.

She passed him a small phaser. "I have some knives too if you want."

"This will suffice."

Victor followed Spa'an and Arel on silent feet, an angel of death hovering over them to send a lance of fire over their heads or to their sides and strike down an opponent that was too close or out of position for them to return fire on. Occasionally, he spun and fired across the open space to take down a Hydran that menaced one of the Elathins or a member of the Marine contingent, the phaser bolts striking like guardian thunderbolts hurled by the Divine, and vanishing as quickly.

"Doomsday" pt V

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smith
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Admiral Sela

-----------------------------
The Undercity
"Doomsday" Complex
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal
-----------------------------

It was maybe half a minute before Jordan pushed herself up and took the phaser rifle, pulling the Romulan Admiral up with her. Sela seemed so surprised by the human woman's action she forgot to protest and before she knew it, was following the Elaithins along the right-most point of the large open space. The bulk of their Hydrans were moving off toward the Marines and the Arel, Spa'an and Kreighoff those that weren't, Jii picked off easily, something that caught the attention of those hurrying toward the other flank, but that did so too late. Jordan had already set the (slightly illegal, slightly

classified) EX-743s; they hit their coordinates with the shimmer of a microtransporter before bursting, tearing through Hydran flesh in a flurry of purple mist and horrible sounds.

First rule of the Starfleet Intelligence Operative: come prepared.

Second rule: improvise if necessary.

"Our primary objective should be getting to the controls," Jordan said, moving, though something caught her eye over the Admiral's head.

She aimed fast and fired, the Admiral dropped to the floor just as the dampener in the rock above exploded. With the snap of ozone, it was almost as though something physically lifted in the room. It was pure luck she'd seen it-- it was all but camouflaged into the stone, but it must have been nicked during the brief firefight in the area, set just a hair off, just enough to make her look at it twice. "Especially now the dampeners are gone." She looked at her husband, cocked a grin.

"You'd think the Hydrans could do something more sophisticated than a class triangulation dampening field."

Sela's expression was one of confusion, anger and fear as she righted herself and looked at the smaller human woman. "I fail to--"

"Even if I can't make you tell me how to deactivate this thing,"

Jordan said, "we might still have a shot because I'll be able to use my handy dandy tricorder."

"It is Romulan tech--"

"Don't worry," Jordan said, "Third rule of an Intelligence Operative:

improvise to ensure preparedness. I tapped into the closest SFI transmitter before the Hydrans blew it to shit. You think my people on Romulus were just looking into the Hydrans? I can read your technology better than my own." She looked at Jii who had thrown himself behind the cover with them now, his face smudged with dirt and sweat, his expression telling them he had positioning information.

"Course, that's not saying much, I'll probably still blow us to kingdom come. I'm a ghost, not an engineer."

Sela quietly wondered for a moment whether any of these people were ever going to let her finish a sentence. She already had a strong desire to kill all of them, if the fate of her home world wasn't dependent on their actions. That feeling was not lessening with time.

"Fair enough," she mumbled. "Go for the console in the center of that bank over there." The Romulan woman added, pointing at a grouping of interfaces that had the scrawling Rihanna script all over them.

"See?" Jii asked mock-pleasantly. Well, not too mock, as he enjoyed watching Sela squirm probably a lot more than he should. "That wasn't so hard."

Jordan smirked as they moved their position. "Never underestimate,"

she murmured to her husband, "the effect of a well-worded bluff."

--

Back in the stairwell the three Marines where pinned down with a half a dozen Hydrans in cover shooting at them. "Sir, we need to get out of here... they rush us and we are fucked. Only reason I don't think they have yet is they don't know out numbers."

"Or how crazy we are," the other marine piped in.

"I know. Unless you two want to act as a meat shield for me, I am out of ideas till one of the other teams can distract them somehow...

unless. Either one of you have a flash bomb left?"

"One... wh... ahh," the marine said backup up a little and arming it.

"Fire in the hole," he said as he tossed the flash bomb near the Hydrans and the three Marines quickly piled out of the stairwell and took up new defensive positions.

"Take them out," Pete ordered as he popped a Hydran who was still stunned from the granade. "Remind me to award you the Boy Scout Medal of Honor."

"Sir, that isn't a real Medal."

"It is now," Pete replied with a grin. Just as Pete said that a Hydran jumped him from behind. Without thinking Pete quickly tossed the larger thing over his shoulder and took out his knife before slitting it's throat. "And that is how you kill a big bug," he said as he wiped some of their purple blood off his face. "Lets clear up the rest of these uglies."

A few minutes later they had cleared the bottom level and waited for the rest of the teams to catch up. "You know, I really expected to see Commander Smith down here first. I could just see her jumping and landing in the middle of the Hydrans and making them beg for forgiveness." The other two Marines just laughed.

--

Between the three teams, they cleared the room with relative speed despite the significant advantage the Hydrans seemed to have had. Jii suspected that these had largely been Hydran engineers and tech types

- most of the combat personnel would be topside, assisting in pacification efforts. The Resistance had been very good about requiring the Hydrans to up their manpower levels in the city. After the dampening field shut down and the tricorders allowed the teams not only to track positions of Hydrans but also each other and to communicate amongst one another, the poor beasties didn't have a chance.

"Army? We don't need to stinkin' army," one of Shaw's marines said, as they met at the device in the center. The marines were a mess, all three wounded, though none threatening, their blood mixing with that of the Hydrans. Kreighoff was nearly painted purple, and Arel wasn't much better off-- they must have pulled their knives (or in the former's case, his bare hands). Spa'an looked a little better off, but that might simply have been because he was Vulcan and simply wore battle better. After all, at their base they, too, were a violent species.

That, and they seemed to have a preternatural ability to remain clean.

Jii had always wondered about that.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Victor reported quietly. "None of the Hydrans permitted themselves to be captured alive."

Elaithin had to admit, he found the dour man's solemn declaration somewhat amusing. But then, this entire experience had made him feel more alive than he had for quite some time. Elaithin Jii was a man of peace, an explorer, a husband, a father... but in his heart of hearts, in the deep part of ourselves that we never confess except for in the long, dark nights... he was a soldier, a defender, a protector, a man of war. And when necessarry, a killer, too. It was what he was. It was what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to be. He knew all of that now.

He clapped Kreighoff's shoulder jovially - "Don't worry about it, Lieutenant. It happens."

"They likely would have held us back anyway," Jordan muttered as she continued to explore the device: they'd gotten there first while the others cleaned out the rest of the Hydran forces, Jii standing watch as his wife went over the controls of the device, first with her hands and eyes, then with her tricorder, and now on her own again. Sela was little help, though she would offer the occasional poor translation of the 200-year-old Romulan decorating the Doomsday machine. Jordan quickly learned she had a better grasp of the more classical form of the written language than the Admiral did. "From what I can tell, they didn't have much better idea of how to handle this thing than we do." She nodded toward the Hydran technology that sat half-way attached into an access point. "Well... careful of that, I don't know..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed an inlay. Reaching forward, she slid the tip of her index finger into it and popped it open.

A panel came up. The screen was dark, but there was Romulan writing in white.

Jii scanned the screen as it came up, but there were several words he didn't recognize. He'd always been much better at speaking alien languages - particularly Romulan - than reading them. "Does that say something about what's going on?"

"Federation transponders detected," Jordan murmured in translation.

She leaned closer, examining the controls before pressing another button. The screen blinked, and then a holographic projection of the space around the planet burst into life above the device. They looked up at it.

Without looking down at the panel, his eyes looking up in the direction of the sky, Victor reported in his quiet, penetrating voice, "The Fleet has returned."

"Yeah," Jii said as Jordan pressed another key, bringing up and orbital sensor reading that showed contacts - a LOT of them - in near-Romulus space. A fair number of them were showing Federation, Klingon, and Romulan transponder codes - and Hydran, T'Kith'Kin, Breen, Reman, and Lyran as well. "Looks like it's a hell of a party."

the Bajoran noted, fixing a stare at Sela. "Told you Murdock would come."

Sela, as was becoming common for her, didn't reply verbally.

"Um... I may be a simple Marine, but what does that mean?" Pete said pointing to a screen.

They all looked toward where Shaw pointed. Romulan numerical notations were quickly clicking down.

"That's a countdown," Sela said, "the number of Federation transponders must have set off the fail-safe's in the doomsday device."

"Great," Pete said. "The cavalry comes and we still get blown up. Why didn't it activate the first time we where here?"

"It could be because the Hydrans got further than we thought they did, or it could be the addition of Klingon forces, or Prophets know,"

Jordan said, snapping her tricorder closed. "But according to that, we have less than an hour to figure out how to turn this off before we go out in a ball of flames and take all of them," she pointed at the holographic projection, "out with us."

"Or it could be because of that." Elaithin pointed out. A massive signal on the sensor screen had suddenly winked out, along with about a dozen of the Lyran signals. "That had to have been the Starbeast.

They took it out somehow. And if we're picking this up, the planetary shield's got to be down, too. That means there's probably some hellacious fighting up on the surface."

Shaw's marines look at each other and checked their weapons before looking ready for another fight. "Not yet space cowboys," Pete said.

"Do another sweep and make sure no Hydrans are still around, or trying to get back down here. Then we can head up and teach the Hydrans some manners."

"Aye sir," the two marines replied as they jogged off to do another sweep.

"Alright, let's shut this thing down then," Jii replied, looking out the timer again, and feeling the basso pulse of energy running through the large column in the center of the room as it continued to power up. "And fast."

"Doomsday" pt VI

Elaithin Jii
Jordan Elaithin
Commander Arel Smith
Lt. Commander Spa'an
Major Peter Shaw
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Admiral Sela

-----------------------------
The Undercity
"Doomsday" Complex
Ki Baratan, Romulus
21 Days after the Withdrawal
-----------------------------

-- 45 minutes later --

"I'm picking up Federation transmissions from the surface," Arel said, looking toward the group. They had taken off every panel in the device, exposing the internal workings, carefully inputting it into the tricorders, networking them, and running careful simulations.

Each simulation ended in 'boom.' And they were running out of time.

"Dammit." Elaithin muttered, slamming his hand on a console. "This thing couldn't come with a damn off switch?"

"Coming with a switch would make it too damned easy, and end our streak of close calls... can't we maybe just pull the power supply or make it think there is no more threat... like change its failsafe to something else... like the Borg?"

Spa'an raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Having exhausted most, if not all, of the logical options, it may be advisable to attempt to employ random chance in our favor. The worst possible outcome would be that we fail and die, which is precisely what will happen if we do nothing."

Vulcans were so re-assuring.

Jordan brushed sweat drenched bangs from her forehead before she looked toward the clock. Three minutes.

"You need to tell us, now," Jordan stated toward Admiral Sela, her voice stony and dark, though her eyes flashed. "Romulan secrecy and paranoia be damned, you need to tell us. Now."

"I told you, Mrs. Elaithin, I don't have any answers for you," Sela said.

Victor frowned. He wasn't going to let this happen again, not again.

Never again. No more planets cracking open like overripe eggs to spill their molten yolk into the void. Nie weider. A dull ache started in the back of his head.

"Bullshit!" Jordan pushed herself up toward the Romulan woman, grabbing her hard and whirling the woman around to hit against the nearest stone wall.

Victor's frown deepened and he closed his eyes to blink away the hints of green that threatened to sweep over his vision. The air in the room seemed to grow denser, as if something was pressing down on it, compressing it.

She was only dimly aware of Kreighoff's change some dozen feet away, and it was only on the must upper levels of her conscious mind -- the part that felt… different, since the return. Focused far more intently on her present situation, Jordan shrugged away her husband's hand, hitting the Romulan woman up against the wall once again.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you were never informed of the nature of this device?" she shouted. "That you were never told how to not only arm but how to disarm it? I've been working with people like you my entire career and you need to tell me NOW!"

"Jordan!" Jii yelled, mostly for effect. Frankly, he didn't care at this point whether the Romulan Admiral got her ass thrown down that big hole in the middle of the room.

"I don't know!" Sela shouted. "Yes, they told us it was down here, yes they told us how to arm it, but they never told us how to take it down."

The tension and pressure in the air grew until it was almost palpable, and the people nearest Victor found themselves starting to edge away, as if something were gently pushing at them, telling them to back away from him.

"You're lying!"

"I'm not!" the other woman exclaimed. "No one knows how to disarm it for fear that we would be compromised by someone like you!"

"I am not dying, again, on *this* fucking planet!" Jordan shouted.

"You have until three, Admiral, and do not think I won't kill you."

"Jordan, stop it!" Arel yelled at the woman.

"She'll do it." Jii said calmly. "My wife's been through a lot lately, Sela. You should probably say something."

Victor's brilliant green eyes opened and he stared at the planet-killing device in front of him as people yelled around him. It was an instrument of death and he knew its purpose, knew its design, because it was nothing more than a herald for what he was and had Become when last he watched a world die.

"One."

"Colonel!"

"It is more than your own life that hangs in the balance, Admiral,"

Spa'an noted in the very Vulcan-esque tone he knew Sela despised. "If you wish to be remembered as a hero to your people, this is your opportunity."

Death considered the device. This world would be a greater glory to watch die than the last had... but he wasn't interested in that glory.

Not any more. Nie weider. The words pounded into his brain over and over like hammer blows: Nie. Never. Weider. Again. Nie weider. Never Again.

"Two."

"Jordan, don--" Jii started. Sela might still have information, much as he hated to admit it.

Death gathered himself, eyes locked on the point at which the device would fire, sending the beam of energy into the center of the planet to destroy it. That was where he would need to be, where he would hold the power of the device. It was strong - perhaps stronger than he was now, - but he would fight it, hold it, stop it, even if only for an instant. Perhaps the others could stop it while he did. Perhaps the General's One could stop it if he held it for her. He gathered himself for the moment....

With surprising strength, Jordan swung the Romulan woman around, perhaps with the intention of throwing her aside out of anger rather than toward causing her too much harm. Instead, she misjudged the distance between them and the Doomsday device.

The Romulan admiral crashed into one of the panels with a loud and painful sounding thud. There was a snap, a crackle, and the smell of ozone. Sela moaned in pain as she slid down onto the dirt floor.

The holographic display flickered and then shorted out all together.

There were three dull 'beeps' that permeated the air around them. The clock went down another second, then froze as the entire device audibly powered down.

The group stood there, looking at one another, their breath held.

"Fuckin' a," one of Shaw's smart-mouthed marine breathed, "I need to change my skivvies."

"Hunh," Jii observed, and looked to where Krieghoff was standing next to him. "See why I love that woman, Lieutenant?"

For just a second, something other than Victor looked back at him, and then, with a blink, was gone, taking the increasing sense of pressure in the room with it. "Perhaps," he agreed slowly. "But, I think, it is more important that you never forget why than it is for me to understand. She is not the One for me."

"Hah, no. I don't think you'd get along."

Jordan looked toward the two men as she leaned against the wall, then back toward the Romulan admiral who, though still conscious, would be feeling that particular event for quite awhile. Jordan could feel the electricity down her back, the warm glow of the amulet where it rested against the skin of her chest, tucked safely underneath the loose cotton shirt. She couldn't seem to catch her breath: her vision was blurred, images trailing behind one another, catching, fragmenting like a poor quality transmission. Closing her eyes, she tried to regain her bearings, and when she opened them again, reality seemed to have set together, though the lightheadedness hadn't fully dissipated.

"Um... why the hell did that work? Not that I am grateful for the chance to live another hour... but still," Pete asked as he slumped down on the ground.

"It would appear that random chance did ultimately work in our favor,"

Spa'an answered. "Though there was perhaps more randomness and more chance than we could have predicted."

"Frantic luck," Jordan murmured with half a smile. Her eyes swept over the people around her; the relief shared between them was almost visible. "We should go meet the cavalry," she said toward her husband, "and get ourselves off this rock, back to where we belong."

The unmistakable sound of transporter signals filled the room then, and as each member of Elaithin's team reached for their weapons, they were surprised to find themselves surrounded...

Not by Hydrans, but by Starfleet Marines.

"Captain Elaithin?" an older human man stepped forward, in a General's field uniform. "General Hammond, of the 1st Division."

"We've met." the Bajoran chuckled. "Though we're a long way from Xanthe, General."

"Indeed." the Marine replied. "Colonel Arvelion told us you were down here, investigating some sort of doomsday device. When this facility suddenly appeared on our scans, we immediately came to assist..." he trailed, looking around the room. "Though it doesn't look like you need it."

"No, we..." Jii started, giving his wife a knowing look. "It's taken care of, General." he reported simply.

"Allright then. You'll have to excuse me - I've got about a million Marines, Klingons, Romulans and Remans up on the surface, and those boy sdamn sure need some guidance. Admiral Sela, 'Colonel Arvelion's already retaken the capitol building, if you'd like to return there."

"I would." the de-facto leader of the Romulan military acknowledged.

"As for the rest of you.. " Hammond continued. "Well. I'd say you've done enough. We'll take you to base camp, and you can get back to orbit. All you people deserve the break."

"If it's all the same to you, General," Elaithin replied immediately, having no need to consult the rest of his team, "We'd rather come with you and see this through."

"Suit yourself." the General shrugged, and called for transport to the surface.

As the caverns dissolved around him, Elaithin knew there would still be fighting this day - but the battle, truly, was already won. The Romulans would have thier world returned to them, and the Triad would be sent packing - if thier ships hadn't already left orbit, they would be soon.

So the question then, really.. was what did you do when the world doesn't end?

"Victory"

Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, CinC, Starfleet

---------------------
USS Miranda
Combat Information Center
Deck 16
-----------------------

Victor shook his head - almost in awe - as the Starbeast's destruction filled the holotank.

A suicide run into the Starbeast itself - it was something he'd considered only as a last resort. It was a tactic few Federation commanders would endorse, and not one Murdock ever had.

But the "Old Man" of Starfleet couldn't deny that it had worked.

"Godspeed, lads." Victor murmured, and then raised his voice to address everyone else. "Allright, folks - the Lyrans have bought us our victory. Now let's make sure we get it. Priority targets - " he immediately started rattling off orders and targets, moving the fleet into action.

Galaxy had identified the source of the systems jamming, even as CIC got confirmation on the identity of the T'Kith'Kin flagship - the ones, Murdock suspected, were really coordinating enemy movements.

The Hydrans had been all but demoralized by the destruction of the Starbeast, and the destruction of the T'Kith'kin and Hydran flagships, not even twenty minutes later, had thorougly broken the enemy's resolve.

"Bridge! Reports show that the Triad fleet is a mess! The Breen are bugging out already, the Hydrans are in disarray around the planet, and the T'Kith'Kin Fleet is trying to regroup and get the hell out of here beyond the battlespace. Allied forces are moving in to remove the remainder of the shield and landing ground forces." Daniels then turned to the Admiral after reporting to the bridge. "You got 'em Sir!"

["WE got'em Lieutenant."] Jaxom corrected over the speaker.

Victor smiled broadly at young Mr. Daniels' proclamation of victory, even if Jaxom had corrected the Lieutenant before he could.

"Aye, that we did." the Admiral acknowledged, extending a hand towards the young Lieutenant as the cheering and congratulations began across CIC. Daniels shook the Admiral's hand - almost in awe, prompting the Scotsman to laugh and clap him on the shoulder. "Now we've got tae finish it."

"We're picking up an energy buildup under Ki Baratan..." one of the sensor techs reported, causing a premature ending to the cheering.

"What is it?" Murdock asked.

"Unknown, Admiral." 'Colonel Dawson responded. "Speculation is it's some sort of doomsday device.. wait one?"

"Wait one?" Murdock asked incredulously "Lass, ye canna drop a bombshell like that and then.."

"Confirmed." she interrupted. "The energy signatures powering down.

Somebody's dealt with it."

As Murdock fixed a stare on the holographic representation of the planet in front of him, he couldn't help a sneaking suspicion that he knew just was was involved.

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

Later

Orbital strikes, started by the Miranda, had quickly destroyed all of the Triad command and control bunkers on the planet's surface.

Deprived of space and air support, the few remaining Hydran, T'Kith'Kin and Breen found themselves quickly outnumbered, not only by the Allied gound forces , but by the people of Romulus, who'd also finally risen up in force to overthrow thier opressors.

Only seven hours after the Triad fleet had departed orbit, the last major Hydran unit surrendered in Ki Baratan, official surrendering the planet to 'Colonel For'kel Arvelion of the 101st SFMC Battalion, based off of the USS Miranda.

Eight hours later, 'Colonel Arvelion, General Hammond, Admiral Sela, and former Captain Elaithin Jii formally returned the planet to Empress Kaidalin t'Vreisu, Ambassador Aerv tr'Ahalaen, Senator tr'Khianalmae (both elder and younger), and Admiral Donatra.

Significantly worse for wear, perhaps, but Romulus had been returned to it's people, and the Hydran Armada had been broken.

"A Superior Weapon"

[Backpost] (Takes Place Three Days Prior to 'Doomsday')

Principal Characters
Atole Tekri
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

Romulus
18 days after withdrawal

Sneaking behind the enemy's lines was a difficult task, even under the cover of the Tal'Shiar's latest technology, the cloaking infiltration suit. The infiltration team had to move slow over the battlefield, and redo their route when the sensor grids of the enemies were too strong.

Hours later, they were over the lines.

What they had with them was to galvanize the superpowers.

That is, if they made it.

Atole Tekri was trusted with the package, a small recorder and disk. In it held the atrocities of the Tal'Anathar Valley Massacre.

It was her idea to arrange the drop-off, her idea to give it to the humans first before the Tal'Shiar. For the most part, her team went along with the idea, with the tacit approval of their leader, Arturo Rantar.

It was this particular person that was key. He was related to the Galaxy. Her connection to the ship would help.

****

Death was certain that the General or his wife, or Commander Smith would be upset with him for being where he was as opposed to sleeping.

Probably all three of them.

He would endure their irritation and their frustration though, because he couldn't explain to them why he was here, doing what he was doing.

The General's wife might understand, but the others... no.

Every one of them relaxed in their own way. One meditated. One practiced weapon forms and glowered at people. One lost themselves in work and the arms of the One he had lost and found again. That left only him, of the four. Only him without a way to relax. Ordinarily he would dance, but Angelienia wasn't here, so that release was denied him. That left only one thing he could do, only one way to relax and find peace with

himself: he had to let his mask fall away and allow himself be what he was born to be.

He had to hunt.

As the dying scream of the Hydran in his hands faded away, and the small park became silent again, Death reflected that he was fortunate in one

regard: there was no lack of game.

****

Krieghoff's 'relaxation' was what tipped the three Tal'Shiar agents off to his location. There were a trail of bodies, all concealed in trees and bluffs so that Hydrans could not spot them. Arturo Rantar had a scathing review of Victor's work; though he thought the human as a natural assassin, he didn't atomize his victims and there were too many identifiable dead in the area. If the Tal'Shiar didn't spot him, Hydrans would have first.

Approaching Victor, however, had to be naturally cautious. When they spotted Victor, the team held back in their cloaking suits. Rik'u, the team's interrogator and surveillance handler, send a low band frequency to Victor's comm.-badge.

Arturo spoke into a mouthpiece, his voice scrambled, "I know you have spotted us. We have spotted your... handiwork. We are on your side, but first identify yourself."

Death frowned for a moment at the words, dropped the Hydran, and lifted his head. "Surely you know?" he whispered, as he straightened and made a slow turn around in a circle, studying the surrounding terrain.

"Everyone knows what I am. Even the Hydrans knew... at the last."

Having turned past the group of Tal Shiar agents in his rotation, Death paused and turned back, his eyes seeming to seek out Tekri's position.

Although they didn't lock on her exactly, it was clear he was looking in her direction for something that was just outside his ability to perceive. "Do you need me to remind you?"

Atole hand signaled to Rantar frantically. She knew that face! Feral, calculated, the image of death made real. Atole suppressed a shudder in her throat, since she once had this person stalk her while on the Galaxy. She signed, "Let me talk to him." Arturo nodded his head. She was clear to go.

"This is Centurion Atole Tekri." She announced in her most authoritative voice, a shield from the fear that tingled in her stomach, "You can, as you humans say, cut the crap, Lieutenant Junior Grade Victor Krieghoff of the USS Galaxy. We are here to convey a message, nothing more. Now do not be alarmed. We will reveal ourselves."

"What?!?" Arturo Rantar signaled.

Tekri silenced him with a dismissive wave of the hand. Boldly. She approached Death, her only sound the soft, undisguised padding of her feet on the grass. Flicking a button on her wrist controller, her body phased out of its subspace cloak, summoning the Romulan spymistress back into reality. Her midnight black cloak suit was skintight, her disruptor rifle slung on her left shoulder. Her fear of Victor set aside for the meeting, she then waved her hand. Two Romulan males then decloaked, both kneeling down with disruptor rifles scanning the surrounding ranges.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Atole quipped. She found that humans appreciated gallows humor.

Death smiled; the expression stopping just short of being inhuman.

"We're not friends." He tilted his head to one side and studied her for a moment. "Wasn't I going to kill you?" he asked abruptly. "Is that why I remember you?"

Atole found it strange to humor Victor's other side. Her comrades were not as amused, but it wasn't for them to judge. A quick stare her way kept the grumbling old veteran Rantar and the detestable Rik'u from saying anymore. "Your feigned ignorance is noted. I was one of your prey, and if you were as good as James claimed I would be dead."

"Ah...." Death let the word trail off. "That's right. I told the father I wouldn't. Not unless you gave me reason to." His smile reappeared. "Is that why you're here? To give me a reason?"

Atole fired back, "Odd, I don't see why you need any more excuses to kill... or targets." She looked distastefully at the Hydran's corpse, "If the Tal'Shiar could find you, with limited resources and no support, how long until you think the Hydrans will find you? You cannot push your luck like this, Victor. Enough Hydran sentries dead and they will make a concerted effort to find you. When they do, your efforts to make a legend of yourself, as small as it is, will be for nothing. You will be demystified in front of a firing squad. Is that what you want?"

"What makes you think that I don't want the Hydrans to find me?" Death whispered. "Did you consider that? Do you really think I killed all those Hydrans in a pattern like that, one that pointed here, to this spot, without a reason?" He laughed softly, the sound interlaced with the cries of the damned. "But that's not why you're here, is it? Say what you came to say."

"Then I ask you this... do you want to take an action that matters?" She drew a playback device from her breast pocket, and presented it to Victor, "How do you feel about the needless deaths of others?"

Death looked down at the device in her hand for a moment, and then frowned. "Everything dies," he told her. "Stars, planets, cultures, individuals...." He closed his eyes, his frown deepened, and the air around Atole shifted in some way, became less heavy, less threatening and when his eyes opened again, it was not an elemental force looking out of them, but only a man. "What needless deaths?" Victor asked.

Atole answered, "You will see, though I hardly believe a sociopath like yourself would understand. Go ahead. Watch it. Feel something in that soul you humans claim to have, and you will see why you must send this back to your people as soon as possible."

Victor stared at her for a moment before he took the device. "I didn't think you understood what I was before," he told Atole quietly as he started the playback. "You still don't. Pray that you never give me reason to show you." He looked down at the small screen and watched the recording all the way through without speaking, then backed it up and watched it again, still without speaking a word.

After the second playback he switched off the device and pocketed it.

"Where?" he asked simply.

"Tal'Anathar Valley." Rantar stated.

"What was the Hydran unit responsible? I can find out the name, but if you know it, it will save time."

"Easy enough." Rantar said, "It was the 882nd Hydran Mobile Suppressions Units. They are based just outside the Valley." He halted Victor with a stare and a sharp word, "But we are not here to give you another hunting ground, Starfleet. We have something bigger for you to do. You must get this transmission to your superiors off planet. The propaganda use for this is immeasurable. It will be worth more than our little efforts. Can you send this to the right people?"

Victor met the Romulan's eyes. "I can't kill every Hydran on the planet.

Not without killing the planet, too... and that isn't acceptable. This,"

he tapped the pocked where the recording was stored and smiled chillingly, not quite the thing he'd been when they arrived, but more it than man for a second, "will kill more Hydrans than I could ever do with any weapon I'm willing to use. Of course I'll turn it over to the right hands. It is... a superior weapon."

"Good." Atole Tekri cracked a smile of approval.

The squad's leader, Arturo, flashed a half dozen hand gestures towards the team. Rik'u was the first to cloak, a thoroughly disgusted look on his face when he saw the human. Then Arturo himself disappeared, his cloak generator a whirring hiss as his body was wrapped in a subspace field.

Atole flashed one hand gesture. The imprints of the other Romulan's feet on the ground didn't move.

"Hurry," Rik'u impatiently hissed in invisible form.

Her face tensed up in disapproval while glancing in the general direction of her invisible comrade. She slowly unzipped the front of her cloaksuit, moving it down to near her navel. There was skin underneath, not much else, for the cloaksuits were skintight and needed to be to work properly. Its utility was not for the bashful even when worn, but partially unzipped it teased and exposed. Her hand slinked into the suit, its movements parting more cloth, near critical in its scandalous exposure of her form...

And just as fast, the hand came out, and her zipper fastened up again.

She had pulled out a piece of paper, and presented it to Victor.

"I need a favour from you, Starfleet." Atole Tekri didn't want Victor to know she was on the verge of begging. She kept a detached tone, but it faltered, "I want you to deliver this to James. It is..." She looked away from Victor sadly, "...the location of our daughter... in case I die." Then her soul was cast in flint, "And tell him what you saw of me was something he could have whenever he wanted. He was a fool to reject me."

Victor looked at the paper for a moment, nodded once, and took it. "I will see that he gets the message."

Rik'u's sensibilities were offended for the last time. "Only a whore can have affections for an alien." He swore in native Rihannsu.

Atole's response was a dirty look in Rik'u's direction, but in it she followed it up with a cocky smirk. Arturo could only chuckle with the raspy, all-knowing laugh of a man with experience. Galling the younger, xenophobic Tal'Shiar interrogator, Rik'u swore, "What is so funny, old man?"

As Atole Tekri disappeared into her subspace cloak, Arturo let the younger officer in on the secret, in whispers to his ear, in native Rihannsu. "I know how you look at her, and your desire for lust grows like your prick. I cannot fault you, for even in my old age I would be honored to be her mate, but there is a difference between you and I."

Rik'u challenged with the sureness of youth, "And what is that? Yours cannot get up in the morning while mine is proud and ready?"

Arturo countered, "You're proud and ready... but unused. That message for her human lover was also for you." He patted Rik'u on the shoulder.

The younger agent, heated with anger, wanted to fire back at the old man, but had nothing to say. Arturo knew this and laughed, "Worry not, my friend. You will learn with experience that women do not want to be treated like objects of desire, and they most certainly do not like to be called whores."

Rik'u snarled, "Shut up, old man. Let's leave before you become disruptor bait for a drunken Hydran."

Victor looked around the empty clearing as he stowed Atole's message away. "There is," he said quietly, "a still-functioning broadcast power substation underneath this section of the park; part of the city's power distribution grid. I have temporarily disconnected it from the power grid, altered the contact points, and rerouted the broadcast emitters to generate a feedback loop so that it will explode once power is restored.

The explosion will obliterate this park and everything in it - something that I intend to do when the Hydrans following the trail of bodies I left them arrive. I don't know what the energy backlash will do to the personal cloaking devices that you're wearing, but given the size of the explosion that I expect, you may want to evacuate outside a four block radius at a minimum."

Atole nodded. With a push of a button on her wrist, her body disappeared in a shimmering swirl of bent light. Soon there was no trace of her.

"Thank you for the tip. We were just leaving."

"I promised not to kill you without reason," Victor replied to the empty air. "But mistakes sometimes happen. Run far and fast, and pray that you never give me a reason to turn a superior weapon on you."

"na Hlai'vna: The Wild Bird - Part Two"

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

= IRW Hlai'vna =
= The Battle for Romulus =

"I learned something from you, tr'Ahalaen," the Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu said, her dark eyes bright in the dim starlight that flooded the room, "You with all your reading from other cultures."

Aerv leaned back and said nothing, waiting for the woman sitting beside him to go on. He was not quite sure when he had begun to think of Kaidalin as Kaidalin herself and not the head of the Romulan Empire.

Though he had known she was young, he had thought the Empress beyond youth. Her beauty had always been more regal than feminine, her ideas and opinions had always, before now, felt like so much propaganda and doctrine. He was surprised to find that she was a person, even though he had of course known this before.

It was the tragedy of modern politics, perhaps, the humanity of the people who governed was lost to their subjects. It was obscured by slander, hidden behind veils by advisors and tacticians. And so young women like Kaidalin t'Vriesu became little more than distant titles, the passionate devotion and intelligence of their lovely eyes shimming unseen. It was a shame that things were so, tr'Ahalaen reflected, for Kaidalin could be such a comfort to her people in these times...if politics would let her.

"And I found that a human - someone by the name of Maugham - once

wrote: 'if a nation values anything more than freedom, it will lose its freedom; and the irony of it is that if it is comfort or money that it values more, it will lose that too'. Do you see? Pride, Aerv. For so long we have valued our pride - our personal pride - more than anything else, that we have begun to lose sight of the other things that make us who we are. Pride, not mnhei'sahe, has become our ruling passion. And so we had to surrender our pride, to come here now and turn the tide."

Aerv chuckled, "You had to come along just when I was beginning to lose faith in the Art of the Universe."

"Perhaps you should be better at keeping your faith."

tr'Ahalaen bowed slightly, acknowledging a point well made.

"Why did you turn down a ship to command in this battle, Aerv? Any crew would have been honored to have a Blade lead them."

"They would have been honored," the Ambassador agreed, "And soon afterwards, they would have been dead. A crew and their commander, even when there is tension among them, share a bond - it allows for trust, loyalty, faith. I would not have had these things simply for having a title."

"Do I not have these things from you simply because of my title?"

"No. Before tonight, you had my obedience and my life." Aerv smiled, "But in my experience, to gain lasting and true bonds from other people, one must storm hearts, not castles. 'It is a permanent victory'."

"And what of personal glory?"

tr'Ahalaen laughed. "That I already have."

"So it works," the Empress whispered, a strange mixture of surprise and awe dripping from her tone.

"What works?"

Kaidalin rose to her feet and began walking the length of the room.

"Do you know the legend of the Hlai'vna?"

"The Wild Bird. The Mad Queen, of course."

"Mad?" t'Vriesu laughed bitterly, "Those who call her mad for having renounced the throne for her books and poems...well, they never wore a crown, Aerv. They say that her own sister, when she became Empress, cursed Hlai'vna for the burden that had been thrust upon her.

"But still, Hlai'vna was a remarkable woman," t'Vriesu continued, "And the universe does not yet appreciate that...and perhaps it never will.

Yet We have inherited her letters to her sister who had just taken the throne. The Senate was a new thing and yet already there was fighting among the various Houses; politics was becoming more important than the will of the people. Hlai'vna feared for the imperial line - she felt a weapon was needed, a weapon that could protect the Rihannsu from the Rihannsu themselves. A weapon that the Empress could wield as long as the Empress was true. The Wild Bird forged a Blade for her sister...one that would be inherited by every ruler of the Empire."

Aerv leaned forward, quite mesmerized by the tale. "I had heard nothing of this."

t'Vriesu laughed. "But you have, tr'Ahalaen. You *are* that blade.

This honor that was bestowed upon you - your title - the Blade of the Declared - Hlai'vna was the one who suggested it. It is a title carried by twenty-seven Rihannsu in every generation - mostly it is given publicly through the Senate and sometimes it is given in secret.

She smiled, "It is not given because of deeds and heroics - though that is how we often make it seem - but is given because of the character of the man, the mind of the woman - it is given to patriots, it is given to those who We judge are true to the Declared above all else. It is given to those with mnhei'sahe. After the title is given, We scatter the Blades across the Empire, driving them as far from the Senate and its politics as possible."

"That is why I have only ever met one other Blade."

t'Vriesu nodded.

"And it was you who arranged for me to become an Ambassador to the Federation."

"Yes. Aerv, the Blades exist so that an Empress, in a time of dire need when she besieged by a Senate driven by their own selfish desires, can call upon them. The Blades are symbols and heroes to our people - their voices carry weight, and the Empress can use them to steer the people in the direction that she sees fit."

"No," tr'Ahalaen realized, the truth dawning on him, "Not in the direction the Empress sees fit...the direction that is the best for the Rihannsu. After all, if we are patriots...."

"Then your allegiance lies with the Declared, not with the throne,"

t'Vriesu finished, "You see the genius of Hlai'vna. The Blades are double-edged, they cut both ways, and they force not only the Senate but also the Empress who would use them to be true."

"And you believe you are the one meant to wield the Blade of the Declared?"

"I am the hand that the Blade was meant for...and these are dark times.

I do not know where else to turn, tr'Ahalaen. So I ask you now...I beg you now...stand with me at the turn of the tide."

For a small eternity, Aerv tr'Ahalaen said nothing, looking at the young woman before him, gazing into her very soul with his obsidian eyes.

And then he knelt before his queen, for what felt like the first time, just as the news of victory broke and the Hlai'vna flew towards its home.

= End Log =

“The Lion's Offensive: Part 2”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
And Lieutenant T'lan

Location: USS Galaxy
Soundtrack: “Sonne” By Rammstein

James was not Death. He never claimed to be.

But what grandious claim he could even dare near to capture was that of its herald.

James Corgan had seen a lot of blood and death in is tenure with Starfleet. He had been there during the Battle of Sector 001 during the Borg Invasion, anointed in the blood of his enemy, marked and never the same man again. He was there for the march of hell to Cardassia, seeing the bloodiest of the fighting. He was there even in peacetime, to see the Borg come again, to face the deadliest hunters of the Galaxy, and to revisit the Breen, the Hydran, the Cardassian and the T'Kith'Kin. The Battle of Hattra, The Seige of Chin'Toka Prime, Incursion Zero, and the Battle of Havras.

In a ship full of experienced crewmen and women, he was one of the most battle experienced, so when the ship went to red alert and fought, he was in security central.

He was waiting for a disaster.

While the bridges were the nerve centres of the ship outside, Security lorded the halls within. In front of James, on an island, projected a transparent 3D image of the Starship, a wire frame intersecting bulwarks, hallways and jefferies tubes in delicate strands. Golden will-o-wisps representing the security teams were clustered into small fire teams, and dispersed in the gossamer webs in even intervals, with some concentrations stronger than others in key areas; the bridge, engineering, the computer core, shuttlebay and ships weapon structures.

With enough of his staff on Romulus to leave his department undermanned, James was proud of the organizational talents afforded to him by his subordinates to somehow orchestrate a masterful defense with less resources.

All he needed was a disaster to use them.

Not that he wanted to, but in a battle this size, there was no way to avoid it. There was going to be a fight in space, a fight to the planet, and a fight right on it. James accepted this as fact and reality.

The thoughts of his daughter planetside was motivation, but it was compartmentalized and set aside for later. The thoughts of his rogue former Captain on the Thunderchild were set aside. His beloved Mika, his pain in the ass secretary and the problems she caused, and his best deputy T'lan, all his thoughts on those that were closest to him went from primary to a far away terciary adjuct in his mind.

Though he didn't want it, he knew he a disaster was waiting to happen.

After all, he heralded death, didn't he?

~”There!”~ James saw movement in the corner of his vision. Part of the Galaxy's shields were down, leaving a gap in the massive starship's invisible sides. On his three dimensional display, a flood of red dots, all marked as 'unknown lifeforms' took advantage of the breach. They were landing from decks 23 to 25, small fireteams, data concluding they were from a small raider taking potshots at a weakened element on the shields.

“Commander Corgan to security teams Zulu and Foxtrot. Respond to nearest threat. Contain and eliminate. Over and out.” He said matter of factly. It was a small threat. No reason to panic yet.

Lieutenant T'lan rushed into the room, her polaron rifle clattering against her hip. She was dressed in full battle armour, her helmet hiding every feature but the eyebrows of her Vulcanoid heritage, the formless suit crushing down everything else. While her prudence was well advised, James disdained the use of bulky battle armour, a habit of his professional upbringing as a light trooper and sniper. Being Vulcan, T'lan didn't show emotion often, which gave what little she did have more impact. She was showing worry, knit into her brow and blazed into her hazelnut eyes. She was showing a lot of 'worry' lately. Flattered as James was, he didn't like the idea of his deputy worrying over him.

“Sir.” T'lan saluted.

He returned her salute, “Lieutenant, good to see you. Looks like we have our first guests.”

The 3D image of the ship showed another red lined gap in the shields. More enemy troops poured into deck nine. “Commander Corgan to Squad Lima. Respond to threat, contain, eliminate. Over.” He turned back to T'lan, a smile escaping his face, “This is the easy part, Lieutenant. They can't even beam into key areas yet and we're containing their boarding parties. Lets see where it goes from here.”

As if hit by a left from a prizefighter, the Galaxy bucked, its hull plating groaning with stress. The lights flickered and he heard a pop and sizzle from his left, feeling the sparks sting on his cheek. Instinctively ensigns jerked away from the destroyed console. James ignored the distraction, watching the 3D display skirmist the golden wisps with the red ones. A third front opened up on the port side of deck 14, more red troops came in. “Corgan to Squad Tango. Respond to new threat. Squad Beta, intersect between Tango and Lima, back up the first one that waivers. Over and out.”

T'lan looked over the display. She zoomed into a section of the ship containing the wisp representations of a security detatchment, “Sir, if this Squad moves forward, they can outflank the third incursion and advance against the first. It would dispatch both threats in under five minutes.”

Though his Vulcan deputy had a sound mind, James shook his head, “No. Look. They're all in relatively separate sections of the ship, but in unimportant areas. It's opportunistic raiding at a glance, but if you look closely...” He was stopped by another punch to the ship; it felt like a hellbore by the kinetic force. T'lan and James had to hold onto the display table to keep from falling on their backs. Shortly after that attack, the display showed another invasion, troops landing near the warp pylons.

T'lan restored the map. “Sir, they're too dispersed. We can overwhelm them.”

Her logic co-insided with James urge to wipe out the enemy, but part of him wanted to hold back. Doubt was laced into him, he was unsure what to do next as the red dots kept adding. There was one desire, to hunt the enemy, to kill!

He was always taught to hunt and kill, not quit until the enemy was all dead and gone. It was his way since he was first introduced to war. Charge in recklessly, his life forfeit, belonging to someone else, his body borrowed while his grim task was done. That was his way, always his way. Why not charge the enemy? It was there to be killed, his forces were superior, he could kill them. Why was he containing them when the threat could be over in a stroke, dead so that he could deal with the next one? What kept him back? Where was his guts and bravery.

Sacrifice was needed. Everyone told him that. The easiest way was to go through, and all it would cost him were a few deputies.

But his instincts were also telling him not to blindly kill the enemy. Something was wrong. Overwhelming force could destroy them all, and leave him to fight the next one.

How many times could he do that with his own force, before he was depleted? Five, ten boardings, maybe even more if the ship held out. Each fight would wittle his forces down, one man, five, ten or more. Hundreds of the enemy could die, hundreds from hundreds of ships, and more waiting to take their turn fighting onboard a Federation capital ship. Each wave would die in droves, but the next would come.

Each wave would take a man or two more. Then it would add up to a platoon, a squad, even whole detatchments.

There would be nothing left, and the enemy would be waiting, in their thousands.

This was not right.

“We're being probed.” James grumbled, “Watch how the enemy moves. Their forces couldn't even take on what i'm throwing at them now. We can't let the enemy goad us into sending all of our forces against a few raids. Wait until a disaster hits. They'll be there, and so will we. We have to keep containing, T'lan. If we spread out too quickly or concentrate in the wrong place, we won't be able to respond if they take the vital areas.”

He expected T'lan to fight back with her logic, crafting some flawless explanation as to why he was wrong and illogical like the rest of his impulsive species, but none of it came. T'lan was a pristine mirror of Vulcan tranquility. It struck James as odd; T'lan had a bad habit of being his best friend and his toughest antagonist. This meant he also knew when she was going to agree with him, which was now. He was just waiting for the verbal confirmation.

It didn't come. A warning klaxon shrilled from all around him, red flashes searing in his eyes.

He looked at the offending screen.

His disaster came.

“No...” James breathed.

“SIR!” T'lan screamed, “Engineering is evacuating! All personnel are leaving the area!”

“That's our cue!” James boomed, “Load up, Squad Alpha! You're with me! T'lan, take the Betas and come with us! Transporter room, on the double!”

Abandoning his former post, James led squads alpha and beta out of the security office, leaving the monitoring to a Lieutenant he patted on the shoulder. The younger officer watched the projected 3D map and the incoming horde of enemy contacts with fear.

There were more red contacts, two clusters of them, and they were aimed like dagger thrusts at the escaping trail of white contacts.

*****

USS Thunderchild

*****

Commander Mathis was thoroughly convinced that his new superior officer was, officially, out of his mind.

He had the calculations from his best three at warp propulsion, navigation and stellar cartography take the whole sum of fifteen minutes, all the which the three intellects spent their time arguing like a heated high school debate until in one moment's time their ideas coalesed into something tangible. The final minute was then spent on the calculation itself, and with three big brains in unison agreeing to what they said was a sound idea, Mathis had his warp calculations on a PADD and ready for Captain Albrecht's approval.

Why he had to bother was anyone's guess. Mathis was not a theoretical mathematician, he was a security specialist before he went to command school. Captain Albrecht was a fasttracked commanding officer straight from the academy, with some specialization in ops. What did they both know about Albrecht's gutsy plan that they could surmise from this complex layout of mathematical equations? It would be like a squirrel trying to appreciate Mozart's 7th Symphony.

Albrecht insisted on such insanities. He was a captain unto himself, lord of all and truster of none. It was his command style to micromanage everything, even if he couldn't understand half the stuff he micromanaged. It was one of the many reasons why Mathis hated his job.

He hated it even more when it had the potential to end his life.

An errant disruptor beam rattled the ship, and Mathis braced himself on the wall. Not many of those shots came when the ship was in a support position, one Albrecht wanted to change.

It was an insane plan, and Mathis wanted nothing of it. Holding that thought, he accessed the turbolift and ordered it to take him to the bridge.

It was despite the insanities of the plan that Mathis still wanted to go through with it. He was curious to find out if it did work. The only reason he came to the Thunderchild was because he heard of Captain Albrecht's reputation, one of being gutsy, decisive and bold. It was a rare quantity in the captains of pre-Dominion War Starfleet. They were traits Mathis admired.

But did it have to be so... stupid? In his time with Albrecht, he found the Captain mistaken boldness and decisiveness for brash recklessness. His ideas went against the very thought processes of normally sane men.

The turbolift swooshed open, disgorging the XO.

What did he really want? The victory and glory Albrecht promised?

Did he want to be the loyal officer that backed his Captain to the hilt?

Or did he want to live?

“Sir, the calculations you requested.” Said the hulking black XO.

Albrecht accepted the PADD from Mathis. He gave it a scan, watched the readouts scroll across his vision, and handed the PADD back. It was enough for lip service; even Mathis with his limited math abilities knew Albrecht didn't really pay much attention. “It will work.” The Captain of the Thunderchild declared, “Hand it to the helm officer and prepare to standby on my order.”

Mathis handed the PADD to Lieutenant Sorkir. Like the South African XO, Sorkir was a new acquisition from Vulcan. It took only a second's glance at the PADD for the Vulcan helm officer to look, understand, and begin to key in the proper commands.

“Captain.” Sorkir stated, and how Mathis lamented the Vulcan's lack of emotional appeal that would have strengthened his argument, “I would be negligent not to tell you that even with these calculations, we could miss our destination. It is difficult to time warp travel jumps in this manner. We could make the jump, or we could be a lightyear behind, or we could collide into our destination. We would also need to shift our position to make the proper jump, and any movement out of position would alert our fleet. We would be overridden and stopped. I would not recommend this course of action.”

Albrecht responded, “And if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked. Instead I am ordering you to prepare this jump. You'll need to do it in five seconds, or else Admiral Murdock will stop us. Make it so, Lieutenant. You're the only one that can do it.” He glowered at the Vulcan with so much promise of misfortune behind it, “Don't make any mistakes. Do it now.”

Mathis imagined the Vulcan's ears sagging. “Yes Sir.” Sorkir finished keying in the commands, “Standing by. Shifting our position in three... two... one... go.”

“Good.” Albrecht said confidently, “Get ready. We're about to become legends, people.”

The viewscreen's starfield blurred as the ship made a hard right. In the background, ships tumbled and weaved in and out of firing ranges, their beams criss crossing like a stellar lightshow, eminating from twirling specks in the sky. The Thunderchild aimed its nose at a narrow patch, right near the centre of the formation, between two clusters of fleets. He could see their yellow and gray forms, even unmagnified.

In the centre was the Starbeast, the biggest blob in the far off field. They were aimed right for it.

“In position!” Sorkir rang out.

“Engage!” Albrecht ordered.

The Thunderchild galloped into a split second warp jump, disappearing from the sensor screens of the fleet. The ship vanished.

Albrecht's gamble was all in that moment.

"Who Wants to Live Forever" Part Twenty- six

***Location; Old Market Square Ki Baratan; Romulus***

The crowd cheered loudly at the victory over the Hydrans. Weeks had passed, yet to those standing around, it seemed like months. And to Maiek, it had felt like a lot more. He stood amongst his Rihannsu brothers and sisters and their Federation comrades, for now, with hatred towards them thrust aside, they were indeed comrades.

The Hydrans had fled like the cowards they were. And the destruction and loss of life they left behind weighed heavily upon his heart. The city was in ruins and he doubted he had a business to go back to once the clean-up was finished. But for the moment he stood, surrounded by so many others, arms raised in joy as they cheered their victory. It did not matter that his people were a proud, arrogant race, or that still some thought that the Federation were only here for their own needs and desires, and not for the safety and security of the Rihannsu Star Empire. They had won the day and as they stood watching the Hydran ships fleeing, they reveled in the greatness that was the battle they had just fought for their freedom.

Standing near the western edge of the great square, Maiek watched as many, many people crammed into the square, hoping to stand in the spot that defined their defense of ch'Rihan. Maiek didn't care for that. He just wanted to see his family again. He had been forced to leave them as he went off to defend the city and had not heard from them for weeks. A hand clamped onto his shoulder and he turned to see who it was.

An older Rihanna, whom he didn't know, stood there, weapon strapped to his back, grinning at their success. He returned the gesture by placing his own hand on the man's shoulder and nodded, the hint of a great beaming smile on his gaunt face. The old timer released his grip and moved on to congratulate other survivors. Victory was theirs this day, yet Maiek couldn't help but wonder the cost they now had to bear as they began the rebuilding phase. Much of the city, and he surmised, the rest of the planet, was in ruins, thousands, if not hundreds of thousands were now dead or unaccounted for, and worst of all, the necessities that the masses needed to survive; food, water, shelter, were going to be hard to find throughout the war ravaged city. Especially as the winter months came about.

He spotted a young boy lying on the ground off near a pile of rubble and headed in his direction. The boy lay unmoving, his neck at an odd angle. The young boy, not more than 5 or 6, lay in clothes that had seen better days, his small hand clutching a knife covered in what Maiek knew to be Hydran blood. The cost of survival had been so great, that a young boy had to stand up and fight. It made him sick in his stomach. Maiek removed his jacket and moved to cover his little body. As the jacket touched the child, his head, which until now had been resting on a rock, rolled forward, exposing his face to those around. Maiek's heart skipped several beats as he got the shock of his life.

It was his own son; Raul.

Maiek sank to his knees at his son's side, unblinking as he tried to comprehend the knowledge that this was his son that lay before him, dead. Tears streamed down his face, streaking his dirt covered cheeks. He didn't care to wipe them away as he sat there. The cheers of the crowd slipped away as his shaking hand tried to trace the contours of his son's face. Anger welled up in his slender form as he struggled to figure out how anyone could kill a little child. It just wasn't right, not even for such a strange species as the Hydrans.

"Maiek," a voice called out from the crowd, "I see your wife on the other side of the square."

He nodded, though didn't know, or care if the owner of the voice noticed. His wife was alive. That was something at least. Though he didn't want her to see Raul in his current state, he didn't want to leave his little body here either. Carefully placing his hands under the boy's back and legs; he lifted him off the ground and began to walk into the center of the square, tears still streaming down his face.

His steps wavered as he walked, his body weak from days with little in the way of food. He had lost a lot of weight in the days gone, though, like many of his species, he hadn't had much to lose, and his bones were beginning to show through where little amounts of body mass should be. The thought of how brave his son must have been to try and fight back against a Hydran gave him the strength he needed.

The crowd around him hushed as he walked amongst them. They parted before him like in the story of the parting of the sea as was written in that ancient Earth book, though for the life of him he couldn't remember its name. Their joy seeped away at the sight that approached them, many deciding to bow their heads in respect as the old Rihanna made his way carrying the young boy.

Avihl's cries for her son had been lost in the ether, drowned within the sounds of elation that crescendoed through the square, how was it that joy could outweigh such desperation? Her mouth was dry, her throat hoarse from screaming, her face full of anguish, her tired eyes aflame with the urgency to find her child, her body yearning with the need to feel him safe in her arms. He had been ripped from her by the surging horde of Rihannsu as they strove to send the Hydrans to their deaths, and she had not seen him since. Avilh was worried for him; he was only small, and so scared. She was his mother; she should be able to protect him no matter what.

Up ahead of her, a disturbance drew her attention. A solitary Rihanna walked carrying something. And as he walked, the crowds were parting for him in reverence. For a moment she assumed he was a holy man, bringing peace to the masses. Scanning the crowd she was shocked by the expressions that now adorned their faces; grief, sorrow, regret, horror, despair.

And then she saw *his* face and knew what it was that he carried; what her husband Maiek carried. The pang that filled her chest, the intuition that she had been pushing to one side as paranoia arose within her, it came to smack her in the face.

"No." she breathed as her blood ran cold, her breath catching in her throat, her body jarring with the pain that drove through her heart, "No, no, NOOOOOOOOO!"

She stepped back from the image. Unable to talk as her mind registered what her eyes saw. She screamed, tears falling from her eyes before she even registered they had welled. Her whole body shook as he inched his way to her. And then he faltered.

"My baby! My baby! MY BABY…………….."

She screamed out until her voice broke. Her knees gave way and she sunk to the ground, her body racked with hitching sobs that rose up from the depths of her being, her hands clawed at the dirt with the need to hold on to something, anything!

Maiek saw his wife and life long companion collapse to her knees, as she bawled her eyes out at the sight approaching her. He wanted to comfort her and would do so once he reached her, but he had to reach her first and his strength was waning fast. Even the thoughts of Raul's bravery were not enough to stave off the inevitable. Then he stumbled, nearly dropping his son. A hand reached out from the crowd and steadied him. Maiek nodded his thanks and carried on, determined to reach her. He stumbled again and this time two different sets of hands, one a Rihanna and the other Federation, kept him upright.

A proud Rihanna would probably wave them off and repeatedly be forced to try and stand after falling, but the war had robbed him of his pride, and all that was left was his love of his family and his people. And as he took one shaky step after another, he was grateful for every hand that helped him along. Once more, he stumbled, this time to a knee. A single Federation marine stepped from the crowd, and knelt before him.

"May I carry him for you?" he asked, his streaked face showing as much concern as Maiek would have seen on a close friend.

Maiek shook his head. It was something he had to do. "No, I must do this myself for he is my son."

Damon nodded. He knew loss, much like the man before him, having lost the love of his life not a few hours previous. "At least let me assist you."

Maiek nodded. "I would be grateful."

Damon wrapped his arm around the older Rihanna and helped him to his feet. Then as the man made his way to the woman crying on the ground, whom he could only assume was his wife, Damon held him upright.

Avilh watched through red, tear streaked eyes as the unknown Terran helped her husband walk. She had never seen him looking so frail and weak, and she feared for his life. She couldn't lose him too. Not so soon after losing her son. It was abhorrent to think of such a thing. As he knelt before her, she reached out a hand and touched his scrawny face.

Maiek struggled with every step and sank to his knees in front of Avilh. She was still crying like he had never seen before, and Maiek reached out a hand and brushed away the tears from her face. He was drained, but had enough strength to look up at the marine and nod his thanks before sliding Raul's body to the ground and wrapping his arms around his wife to hold her.

Avilh scooped up the body of her fallen son, bringing him to her breast she cradled him in her arms, rocking him back and forth, gently caressing his face as she had the very moment he was born. She wept with grief that flooded from her, unrelenting and unyielding.

Today, on this day of days, the Rihannsu people regained a little of that which they lost in the past month, but for one family, who had spent the better part of three decades trying to conceive a child, nothing else mattered but the knowledge that their one bright spark in the world was now gone forever. And as the crowd watched on, Maiek and Avilh held each other and wept openly over the covered body of their one and only son.

They were neither the first nor the last weeping couple, crying over a lost son or daughter on ch'Rihan. Many more sons and daughters of ch'Rihan lay dead in the ruins of the city known as Ki Baratan, and scattered throughout the many, many Rihannsu corpses, the bodies of the Starfleet officers, warrants, enlisted and marine personnel, lay, all whom had given their lives to protect a world not their own; the capital world of their former greatest enemy. They all paid the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the safety of the Rihannsu Star Empire, the Federation and the entire Alpha Quadrant from the likes of the Hydrans and the Triad.

Not that any of that mattered to Maiek, who had lost a large piece of himself on the battlefield. It would be many, many years before he would recover from the events of the defense of ch'Rihan.

(OOC NOTE – I know that the following is lengthy, and duly apologies for that. Yet I implore you all to read through this. There were nine writers including myself that all worked together to bring this epic to your eyes. Many of them taking on the challenge to write NPC's for the various scenes, one writer in particular didn't even bring his main character into this, as she was aboard the ship. So this following listing is as much for archiving purposes as it is for reflection and tributes. Here you will find a list of all the characters portrayed, dedications and thank yous', credit goes where credits due. I might also note now some things that may well be of use to you whilst reading this; a comfy chair, a stiff drink – or a cuppa tea, perhaps both if you feel so inclined, and for those of you with a more sensitive side; a box of tissues.)

"Who Wants to Live Forever: Credits"

In order of appearance;
(Main characters tagged with a *)

~There's no time for us,~

Captain Rogers did in fact make it back home to his wife and two sons, Sebastian and Christian. However with the fall of the troops in the East, Captain Rogers and what remained of his original Platoon, were ambushed when they retreated from the bunker. From the original sixty men, and woman, that he led into battle, only 24 of them walked away. To add further insult to injury, Rogers lost his lieutenant that same fateful day, and he took her death the hardest. Blaming himself for every single loss from his unit, the scars of this conflict forever etched into his mind and conscience, he found solace in the bottle and when he received commendations for his efforts in the conflict, it was one more kind word too many, one more recognition of all the tragedy, one more reminder of what had happened; one more reminder of his failure. Shortly after the conflict was over he resigned and left Starfleet. His wife has not seen him in months and his whereabouts are still unknown......

~There's no place for us,~

Lieutenant Leonora (NPC written by Dru)

Lieutenant Leonora died in battle, killed in action like so many others. Her name was added to the ever increasing KIA list, and later on to a memorial plaque that would eventually be placed upon Romulus to remind them of the sacrifices made to ensure their freedom and the safety of the galaxy.

~What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?~

Private T.C (Tin Can) (NPC written by Dru)

Private Tin-Can survived to scrape through another day. He did not carry out his earlier vow to kill the Fleet when they returned, he, like everyone else, was just as grateful when they did return. If not loud mouthed about the time they took in doing so. He returned with what was left of his platoon once relief aid arrived to start clearing the dead and salvaging what there was to rebuild Romulus. This war over, he began to ready himself for the next, ensuring all the while that stories of the 'Fight for Romulus' were embellished when told over a bottle or two, which wasn't an uncommon sight for the rough marine.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Private K'ymri (NPC written by Dru)

Private K'ymri also survived through what was the first conflict he served in. He was promoted upon his return to his ship and with one life ticked off the list, went on to see how he could test the other eight.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Private Hawkins (NPC inspired by Rob Snow, written by Dru)

Private Hawkins died in the arms of 2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas during the conflict. His name was added to the plaque, forever to live in memory, and when memory fades; by name only.

~There's no chance for us,~

*2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, Marine SFMC, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Seven Jonas did indeed survive the battle for ch'Rihan, at least physically. It had been one hell of a ride for the bastard half-breed, with many twists and turns along the way, but nothing compared to the loss of life he witnessed and the loss of the woman he loved. Though not dead, Faylin was lost to him, now, it seemed, and he had no idea how he could go about getting her back. Or, with the changes that it seemed had come over on that day of days, whether he really wanted her back in his life. Steven just wished that whatever came next would be quick and he could get back up to the Galaxy and take stock of the battered and bruised body, mind and spirit that made up Steven Jonas. Cause life was never going to be the same again.

~It's all decided for us,~

*Corporal Pierre Basset, Marine Sniper, SFMC, USS Miranda

Corporal Basset indeed survived his first non-sim conflict. It was the worst sight he had ever seen, but it was a good way to break into the world of Marine combat. He assisted in the salvage and clean up of the planet as much as he could before returning to the USS Miranda where he continues his duties as a Marine Sniper.

~This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us,~

Private Amy VanDuren, Marine SFMC USS Galaxy (NPC written by Stuart)

The Hydran killing machine survived yet another war, her third in her short time as a marine, yet she found herself haunted by her many comrades that perished upon the soil of Romulus. Forever will they be in her thoughts. She got back to the Galaxy in one piece, the thought that so many Hydrans did not make it off Romulus due to her actions, gave her the mental boost she needed to carry on with her duties as a marine with the Furies.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Private Jenkins (NPC written by Stuart)

Starfleet lost one of it's jokers during the battle for Romulus. Always one for practical jokes on his comrades, Jenkins was a well liked and loved demolitions expert who strove to be the best he could in his chosen field. Sadly he perished in an exchange of weapons fire in the last moments of the battle to free the Romulan race from the clutches of the evil tripods. Even in death he brings smiles to the masses; as they found, when his body was recovered with the cheekiest grin on his face. He was a good friend to all he knew and his humor and joyful attitude will be forever missed. God bless you Jenkins.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Private Patterson (NPC written by Stuart)

Lenny Patterson survived the battle for Romulus with minor cuts and bruises. He is forever haunted by the death of his best mate, Jenkins, but takes solace in the knowledge that Jenkins was avenged by Lenny's own hands. He keeps Jenkins' dog-tags around his neck to honor his fallen comrade and buddy.

~Who dares to love forever?~

*Lietuenant Erastus Ampete, Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

Erastus survived, though precisely how she could never say for certain. The time spent on Romulus had turned her world upside down. Everything she thought she knew had been challenged, even at the most basic - and hence deepest - levels. The confusion has made her short-tempered, though she hardly could be said to have noticed the change in her attitude. Now, she is simply glad for the prospect of returning to the USS Miranda and seeing Jaal again.

~Then love must die!~

*2nd lieutenant Branwen London, XO Marines, SFMC USS Galaxy

Branwen didn't really understand what was happening in those last hours. She kept slipping in and out of consciousness. She knew the others would take care of her, especially Man'Darr, Anasta and Victor. So somehow she felt safe. There was no pain, there was only peace. Whatever happened would be good.

~So touch my tears with your lips,~

*Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG USS Galaxy

Ensign Faylin McAlister's experiences on the planet will haunt her for the rest of her life in more ways than one. The Devil changed her that one fateful day, the effects of that drastic soulful change would be impossible to erase. No matter how hard she would try, He would always be around, tempting her with the darkness, sweet desires, and seductions of the evilness that is contained within us all. She took the eternal bait, sold her soul for survival, and will live with the ultimate consequence. Which, it itself, has yet to be revealed…

~Touch my world with your fingertips,~

Dr. Robinson (NPC written by Dru)

Dr. Robinson and his team also survived yet another bloody encounter. War was not new to the ageing doctor and neither was triage. The things he saw, the loss of life, would be firmly placed into the box of memories, sealed with a warning message; do not open, *ever*! His job was thankless at times. No one really remembers who saved their life, his face and efforts lost in the unconscious haze that is the fine line between this world and the next. For some he was a god incarnate, to others he was the apparition of an angel, the last vision from this world before they slipped into the next, as painless as Robinson could make it. He summarized that it wasn't particularly a handsome image, down right ugly to be truthful, yet it was not a thought he inclined to deliberate for too long. Life waits not for the dead, time moves on and those alive must find a way to move past the trauma, for else despair and desperation takes hold, and that is much worse than death. Shortly after the conflict was over he was offered a position at Starfleet Academy teaching a course in Military Medicine. With the possibility of War looming he took the offer to ensure that his skills were passed down to a new generation of Medics, and that perhaps, with new techniques more lives would be saved in the field.

~And we can have forever,~

Dr. Ali (NPC written by Dru)

Dr. Ali also survived the conflict and she too was promoted, taking up Dr. Robinsons' position on his old ship.

~And we can have forever,~

Private Lila (NPC written by Dru)

Private Lila was reported missing in action. Her body was never found.

~Forever is our today,~

Romulan Civilian Avilh I'Ramnau tr'Ehhelih (NPC written by Dru & Stuart)

Avilh survived the battle for her home and was reunited with her husband. Yet with the death of her only son, another war raged within her and that would never be won. Life was never the same, there was always that empty space, an empty hand with no one to fill it, an empty place at the dinner table, and once her home was rebuilt; empty rooms. The sound of his voice, his laughter; all of him was ripped away from her and there would be nothing that could replace him. Yet another life snuffed out before it had chance to shine in the grey skies of Romulus. His place in her heart would forever remain hollow.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Little Raul, Romulan boy (NPC written by Stuart)

Raul died tragically in the rampaging of his planet. His body was laid to rest once the dust had settled. His six years of life was by far too short, and his passing would be felt by his parents for the rest of their mortal lives. In the tragic aftermath of war, there were many that suffered, many families that were ripped apart. Yet through so much turmoil what was one more tear? Just another drop in the ocean.

~Who wants to live forever?~

Ensign Varris (NPC written by Matthew)

Ensign Nathan Varis later died in the heat of battle after having helped fix the radio assembly. His name was added to the long lists of KIA for the conflict. He left behind a wife and child on the USS Miranda. They will miss him deeply.

~Forever is our today,~

Ensign Johnston Davis, Science Officer, USS Hood (NPC written by Stuart)

Johnston Davis was a proud man. He loved his job and Starfleet with a passion and could always be found in his science lab working on new and wonderful things. He was a strong willed individual and was the first to sign up to protect the Romulans as the Hydran war machine edged closer to Romulus. He died courageously standing alone against the horde of Hydrans that threatened to overwhelm one of the aid stations while trying to give the others more time to get the injured out. He was successful, but at the cost of his own life. One of the lives that was saved due to his sacrifice, a science teacher from the south of the city, has promised to ask that the school's science building be

renamed the "Johnston Davis Science Academy" in honor of his bravery. Johnston is survived by his sister Jude and his estranged wife Sally.

~Who waits forever anyway?~

Private Cob (NPC written by Dru)

Private Cob did not make it back to the rendezvous point once his unit retreated from the bunker. His body was later found, and along with all the others; laid to rest in the overflowing morgues on Romulus. He was given a full Starfleet burial in space during a mass funeral, his heavily pregnant wife could not attend. The loss of his wit, his crooked smile, his inappropriate jokes, all of the characteristics that made Private Cob one of the funniest and romantic men alive was felt by his wife, Saline. Just weeks after the 'Battle for Romulus' she gave birth to their first child, and dutifully named him after his heroic father; Aaron Cob Jr.

~Spend all your time waiting~

The Lieutenant (NPC written by Robert Snow)

The Lieutenant was another casualty of a war that served no purpose. A death that went unnoticed by almost everyone. Another name for a plaque, another faceless file for a report, to be read out once at a memorial, and then forgotten. No family, no friends. Just a soldier who couldn't take the stress of combat. Who made some bad choices and paid for them with his life. Lieutenant Marc Alphonse; thirty six standard years old, Terran, Starfleet marine. KIA - Body not recovered. ch'Rihan. R.I.P.

~For that second chance~

Sergeant Artak (NPC written by Robert Snow)

Sergeant Artak received a field promotion to Lieutenant for saving the lives of those under his command when his Lieutenant was killed in action. Not knowing what happened to the officer he ordered a retreat to a more defensible position. Holding until

re-enforcements arrived he led the survivors into battle against the Hydrans. Privately, he often wondered if he had done the right thing. Killing an officer on the battle field was nothing new to marines. It was something that had happened for centuries. But living with it after was an entirely private thing. Lieutenant Artak spent years after walking away from the field of battle on ch'Rihan and the memories there, seeing the face of the

man he had killed, simply for panicking. The faces and the voices of the dead of ch'Rihan would be with him always, one especially, lurking in the dark corners of his mind. But in time, he would make friends with them.

~For a break that would make it okay~

Corporal Tiffany (NPC written by Robert Snow)

Corporal Tiffany survived ch'Rihan. Annoyingly cheerful when not under fire she knew something had happened to the Lieutenant when Artak ordered her away, but there are times that being deaf dumb and blind, save your life. This had been one of those times. She will spend the next few years serving under her new Lieutenant and trying to help him deal with something he'll never talk of. She knows though, and she thinks he knows she knows. Since neither one of them will admit that the other knows they know, they end up living in confusion as well as living together. She keeps him away from the guns when he feels down and he keeps her out of trouble when she's feeling happy. It's one of those relationships that bizarrely seems to work.

~There's always some reason~

Sergeant Yeager (NPC written by Robert Snow)

Yeager found God on ch'Rihan. Which 'one' though, he will spend the rest of his life figuring out. Becoming an ecumenical priest he remained in the marines as a field chaplain and continued to serve with his friends. Spending time with Buddhists, Zen Masters, Bajoran Vedeks, Vulcan Monks and many others gave him a very broad outlook on life. He had no idea what happened to the Lieutenant on that last day. Shane had pumped him so full of drugs all he was thinking of at the time was 'Kill the Hydrans' so he did. In time Yeager would leave the fleet and start his own Ecumenical order, open to anyone they aim to spend an eternity learning the face of God. Some say there are more worthwhile pursuits. Others wish him luck.

~To feel not good enough~

Shane - Private Shane Damphousse (NPC written by Robert Snow)

Shane, like many others in this war came out changed. Though he saw little fighting he did see the aftermath of more fighting than many others. Only a field paramedic he was called upon to save life after life, and make many difficult choices. In the absence of a

qualified Doctor or surgeon he attempted procedures he had not been trained in, and more often than not, people died in his hands. Despite counseling, and several commendations for the lives he did save he could never forget the lives that passed through his hands, nor could he forget the dead. It will take years for him to come to terms with the decisions he made on ch'Rihan. And even longer to forgive himself for the lives he could not save.

~And it's hard at the end of the day~

*Mr. Michael McDowell Civilian Engineering Specialist USS Galaxy

Michael is one of the very few who lived through the horrors of the last war without serious physical injuries, save for some deep cuts and bruises. However, he paid in a different way for his decision to stay and fight for the Federation. At the end of war, the continual psychological stress and sleep deprivation had turned him into a zombie. He spent the last few days before beam out to the Galaxy in a field hospital, with Dhanishta at his side. His recovery went slow but improved significantly after he returned to his ship.

~I need some distraction~

Lieutenant (JG) Chandrakala Eshe, Starfleet exchange engineering officer, IKS T'Kengra (APC written by Dru)

The horrors of war were nothing new to Kala Eshe. Having served on the T'Kengra during the dominion she saw her fair share of suffering. Yet the Klingons had a very different outlook on death and she has been lucky enough to grow up with that philosophy. The future for Kala was, as it always had been, uncertain. The most troubling thing she felt was the transformation within her twin sister, and that was something that would stay with her for some time. Life was not peachy in the Eshe family. And things would have to be resolved, yet how and when that would happen, only time could tell.

~Oh beautiful release~

*1st Lieutenant Jebadiah Baile, USS Galaxy, CO Furies Marine Detachment

Maybe it had been better if Romulus had become the bane of Jebidiah Baile. But as it turned out it wasn't his time yet. It was never explained how he got to the sector that he had escaped from, much less how he got away from the Hydrans. His own explanation was that he didn't remember any of it. He went back to the Furies a changed man. Onboard the Galaxy he would later meet a person that would change his life and he would change that person's life in return. But that's a story for another time…

~Memory seeps from my veins~

*Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering USS Galaxy

Dhanishta spent the last few days of her time on Romulus in the Field Hospital at Michaels side. Though not greatly injured, he was mentally scared, the trauma and shock took its toll on his body. Sitting by his bedside, holding his hand while he recovered Dhanishta had time to reflect. She had changed much over the last few years, nothing had scared her more then the thought of loosing the people she loved. This was a new experience for the young engineer, for never before had she developed such bonds with her colleagues, never before had she something to loose. What was even more terrifying was the transformation within her while she fought. She had always felt a darkness within her, yet she had been able to rise above it. Just what was within her was yet to be confronted, and what it meant for her, for Michael, for them and for the Galaxy was yet to be determined…

~Let me be empty~

'John' - Starfleet Marine, and his team (NPC's written by Robert Snow)

John had a bad day. Killing the crazed Romulan had started a situation that had spiraled out of control quickly. He soon found himself facing the Romulans and the surviving Hydrans in a bizarre three way battle. The Hydrans managed to pin everyone down, while the Romulans managed to halt the advance of the Hydrans. John and his people ran as soon as an opening presented itself. Unfortunately everyone else quickly followed. Making it back to the downed shuttle John and only two others made their escape in the damaged craft, only to be shot down by Hydran weapon fire. Surviving the second crash of the unfortunate shuttle, John was quickly torn apart by the rampaging Romulans. No one would ever know what happened on this tiny piece of land, nor the effect it would have on so many. Missed by many, prayed for by friends he will ultimately be added to the wall of honor. Another memory; Captain John Caffrey - MIA - ch'Rihan, Presumed Dead. Forevermore, rest in peace.

~And weightless and maybe~

Romulan soldiers and Unnamed Romulan Admiral (NPC's written by Robert Snow)

These are the ghosts of this battle. Forgotten by their own, hunted by Hydrans, attacked by Humans who were supposed to be helping and poisoned by radiation from a Hydran weapon they will slowly go insane. Taking many of their friends with them into the spiraling pit of despair and darkness. These shadows would become radicals, terrorists. Determined to kill anyone who is not of their own kind. Humans especially will be a

favored target. With their naturally long lives they have time to wait and time to plan. One day, they will have a plan, and on that day, they will be someone to be feared.

~Ill find some peace tonight~

Darkness (NPC written by Michal)

Darkness was content not to be recognized for his contributions on the planet. He still participates in wars and skirmishes on a consultant basis, having retired shortly after the war. Since his retirement, he enjoys various vacation spots on Risa with a few companions of ill repute from the pleasure planet when he is afforded the chance to do so. When not vacationing, his time is spent as a Professor of Dark Science at Damian University near the sixth layer of hell.

~In the arms of an angel~

Death (NPC written by Michal)

As a reward for his hard work on the planet during the war, Death was awarded the Silver Starburst Metal of Underworld Achievement. He continued his ways of providing transport of souls newly minted for the afterlife. Always careful in his handling, he still to this day curses Krieghoff on a daily basis for the man's ability to transcend Death's skills and hog all the attention.

~Fly away from here~

Devil (NPC written by Michal)

Still practicing evil to this day, the Devil has settled down into married life with somewhat reluctant abandonment. Much to his joy, however, he has been blessed with twins, of whom he affectionately named Aidan and Liam at the request of his friend Death. The two are growing fast, quickly taking to their father's interests in playing evil. Every Saturday evening since the war, the Devil holds a weekly poker night with Death, Destruction, and Darkness. They relive their adventures, and speak often with affection of a certain Ensign they had the pleasure in getting to know during the war.

~From this dark cold hotel room~

Destruction (NPC written by Michal)

As Death received a commendation for his achievement during the war, Destruction was reprimanded by the Low Council of Underworld Ambassadors for his overzealous behavior on the planet. He was ordered to pay restitution to the families of the lives he unnecessarily stole by the ways that he humored himself while on the planet. Restitution came in the form of creating interesting forms of memorials on various planets that remembered the fallen soldiers of all races that he unnecessarily took from life. Also, he was ordered to replace Death's A.Testoni Nevogese leather loafers, much to his chagrin.

~And the endlessness that you fear~

Private First Class Norma Jean (NPC written by Stuart)

Norma Jean was a rose in amongst the thorns. Blessed with beauty, brains and the ability to strip and reassemble a LAAV and have her purring like a kitty in under three hours, Norma Jean stood out from all the rest of the Furies. Her dedication and trustworthiness were at the core of her very being. She found herself wanting, during the grueling combat on Romulus, yet, with the help of a stranger, a Romulan woman, and the newfound love of a Lieutenant from the USS Hood, she climbed back up to the high caliber Soldier and Maintenance tech the Furies all knew her for. Sadly, Norma Jean lost her life trying to protect the man she loved, as the war against the Hydrans was drawing to a close. She is survived by the man she loved, Lieutenant Damon Rice and her little sister Emily, whom is studying Medicine at the Academy. She will be sorely missed by each and every surviving member of the 188th 'Furies' Detachment. Peace, Love, and God speed on your journey to heaven.

~You are pulled from the wreckage~

2nd Lieutenant Damon Rice, Marine (NPC written by Stuart)

Damon will forever be scared by his time on ch'Rihan. Not only did he lead his mean successfully on many missions but he also found love with the most amazing woman, only to lose her to a cowardly Hydran. He keeps the memory of their short time

together close to the surface always, never forgetting how easy it is to lose the things that matter the most. Damon returned to Romulus two years later on a peaceful co-operative mission to develop better defensive systems aimed at protecting all the species of the galaxy from attack. He has vowed never to marry to honor the memory of Norma Jean Riley.

~Of your silent reverie~

Corproal Johnnie 'Nitro' Capolino (NPC written by Stuart)

Johnnie sailed though the war with only minor cuts and bruises. He survived every piece of combat he was involved in and often joked that he could take the whole Hydran army on by himself. Though never one to shirk his responsibilities, he found the constant death and destruction revolting at times, especially when he saw that Romulan man carrying the dead young boy across the courtyard to the boy's mother. Surprisingly, he found himself crying at the scene, but was never going to confirm that fact if asked. Denial was the better response as far as he was concerned.

~You're in the arms of the angel~

Corporal Vosak (NPC written by Stuart)

Vosak survived the war unscathed. He found no luck, good or bad, never complained, and always had a comment or two on the nature of everything. His calm demeanor helped steady the troops against the onslaught of the Hydran soldiers. His dry humor was refreshing for those that knew him and often quite frightening for those that didn't. He survived the war and continues to work within the Furies.

~May you find some comfort here~

Sgt Major Nicklass 'Kick' Furji (NPC written by Stuart)

Niklass Furji lived up to his reputation, leading successful mission after successful mission as the Hydrans tried to wrestle control of ch'Rihan from the Rihannsu people. Not one to give up, he valiantly stood up to the hordes and prevailed time and again. His steadfast determination, and never give up attitude boosted the morale of the defending Rihannsu and Federation people. Despite the losses his boys suffered, their commitment to his leadership never wavered. He returns to the Galaxy with his head held high, though the loss of Norma Jean Riley would be a sore point for him for years to come.

~So tired of the straight line~

Young Bolian Private (NPC written by Rob Snow)

Private R'Surns survived the battle, somehow. Despite his seeming inability to hit what he was aiming at he provided fire support for the advancing troops right up to the point when a Hydran surprised his fire team by firing on them from behind. Panicking, R'Surns used his launcher to kill the Hydran, and with it his own team who were caught in the back-blast. Knocked out by the blast R'Surns awoke many hours later covered by the dead. Several Romulans, unfamiliar with Bolian physiology assumed mistakenly that he was dead and placed him with the corpses of the fallen. Sickened and panicking he crawled out from among the bodies and soon found that he had been left for dead. For some time he wandered the ruined streets of Ki'Baratan, dazed and unsure of what to do next. Days later when he finally managed to access a computer he realized he had been listed as MIA - possible KIA. Very much alive and happy to be forgotten R'Surns turned his back on the fleet and went his own way. Missing presumed dead.

~And everywhere you turn~

Romulan Civilian Volunteer # 1 (NPC written by Rob Snow)

Tarshel, a simple assistant legal intercessor before the invasion of ch'Rihan became a minor notable after the invasion. Caught on several holocams leading a charge into a Hydran position she joined the military once the invasion was over and chose to continue to defend the Romulan Empire. Rising in the ranks due to the fortunate coverage of her charge she will spend many years serving the Empire as a loyal soldier. Always remembering those who helped her in the fight for freedom she will never forget the friends she made among the Federation forces. Friendships that will shape her career and her life for many years.

~There's vultures and thieves at your back~

Romulan Civilian Volunteer # 2 (NPC written by Rob Snow)

Narell and his team were not as fortunate as some. Sweeping the area assigned to them they unfortunately triggered a series of mines that had been set by the Hydrans. Never even knowing what killed them the entire squad was vaporised by disruptor mines in an instant. Narell was listed among the multitudes of Rihan that were never accounted for. One of thousands who took up arms and fought for their freedom against the tyranny of opression. Missing presumed dead.

~And the storm keeps on twisting~

Senior Romulan Centurion (NPC written by Rob Snow)

Centurion Asyr happily blew up significant parts of Ki'Baratan. And himself along with it. A faulty warhead prematurely detonated in the launcher he was using, taking him and his fire team out. Unfortunately no one realized this at the time, as they were all too busy advancing on the Hydrans. Asyr and his team were only missed once the battle was over and everyone gathered to assess the damage and search for the wounded. Their position was assumed to have been hit by enemy fire. On the spot where they died, in the crater that marked their final resting place a one of many memorials was set up to remember those who gave their lives fighting for the freedom of ch'Rihan.

~You keep on building the lies~

Hyped Up Greedy Engineer (NPC written by Stuart)

Hyped Up Greedy Engineer or HUGE as he is often called, survived the war. It was that simple. He hardly fired his weapon at all in combat and always found the most comfortable beds to sleep in. He avoided responsibility like the plague and went so far as to invent a malady called "White Scarlet Horsehair Fever" to get out of being asked to go on missions. All in all he hid whenever he could and ran whenever he couldn't hide. Meeting up with GEL late in the piece, he found an old transistor radio and managed to get it working. (And by that, he means that he got GEL to do all the work for him while he took the credit.) HUGE is still in the Fleet, somewhere, cowering in a Jeffries tube somewhere on some ship. No one knows where he came from or where he ended up. All they know is that he was the biggest pussy on ch'Rihan during the war.

~That you make up for all that you lack~

Ginger Haired Engineering Lackey (NPC written by Stuart)

The Ginger-haired Engineering Lackey (commonly referred to as GEL) found himself deployed to ch'Rihan due to a technical problem with the BuPers computer system that listed him as a Sniper on loan from the 122nd Battalion. The technical glitch, it seemed was not an isolated incident, but has also caused famed member of the USS Galaxy crew, Leo Streely, to be bestowed with the rank of Captain. Whether he wanted to be deployed or not, GEL found himself on the surface of ch'Rihan and had to make the most out of a difficult situation. Given a sniper rifle, GEL tried his best to make his unit proud, but was found to have a mysterious condition known as White Scarlet Horsehair Fever, though the origins of said malady have not yet been identified. Finally away from his rifle, GEL excelled at keeping the machines and generators running, aided by the sexy marine technician Norma Jean Riley. After spending time helping HUGE get the transistor radio working, he subsequently learned that Norma Jean had perished during combat that day. He will miss her tight uniform-covered big bouncy bosom, eh miss *her*, dearly.

~It don't make no difference~

Lt. Commander Greg 'Dinky Toy' Harwich (NPC written by Martin – shortest appearance ever)

After the war, 'Commander Harwich returned to the USS Kofi Annan where he picked up his hobby of collecting little cars called 'Dinky Toys' again. Unfortunately, he lost an arm in the last skirmish he participated in. That said, he is one of the first who would acknowledge how lucky he is to survive it all.

~Escaping one last time~

Maiek i'Ramnau tr'Ehhelih, Romulan- Father of Raul (NPC written by Stuart)

Maiek was hailed a hero by the Rihannsu people for his leadership and strategic planning which lead to many successful missions, despite having dropped out of the military early on in his life. Despite all the attention, Maiek will never rise to the level that the people want, for he lost a large part of himself in the last day of the war with the fining of his son dead on the side of the street. Raul, his 6 year old son, was his pride and joy and he and his wife Avilh saddened that after so long trying for a child, they will never again have another offspring of their own. A couple of years from now, as Avilh and Maiek sit watching their four adopted children (there had been many orphaned children as a

result of the war) play in the garden, Maiek often thinks wistfully of his son Raul and what he would have been like had he survived the war.

~Its easier to believe in this sweet madness oh~

Storyboard created, Edited and Directed by Dru.

Assistant Director and Editor: Stuart.

Assistant Editors: Rob Snow and Martin.

~This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees~

With Thanks to:

The authors of the Mission: 'Barbarians at the Gates'; Pat, Ian, Kate, M.J., Cliff and Juan.

This mission has been an absolute joy to read and write. The shear amount of creative writing has been amazing. And throughout this series I have realized one thing: You only get out of it what you put into it. Myself and those that joined me to bring "Who Wants to Live Forever" before your eyes have put a lot of effort into it. I am humbled by the writers that joined me; I have been floored time and time again by what they have contributed to this series. Each one of them has surpassed themselves and none of that would have been possible without the Mission. So to that end I thank the authors of the Mission, for without them this would not have been possible. I thank them for letting us, the writers, shape the way of what is to come and for giving us such fantastic starting blocks and gentle direction throughout it.

Thank-you!

D~

~In the arms of the angel~

With Special Thanks to the Writers:

Firstly to Martin, who through MSN chats and exchange of music sparked off this idea for the 24 hour epic last stand on Romulus. Without him, and his mention of Queen, this series would never have happened. I would be lost without him, his friendship and most of all his character, McDowell. He kept me on the edge on my seat through out the JP's we wrote with Dhani and Michael, hovering on the knife edge waiting, wondering what was going to transpire between the two. It was a total joy to write with him, as always our writing flowed seamlessly and I have to remind myself just how much of a challenge it is for him, as English is not his first language, yet because of the way he writes; I always forget. To Martin, thank you for the music, the anticipation and for just being you.

To Jolla and Matthew who crossed the divide between the sister ships and joined us in the telling of this epic. Matthew wrote Piere beautifully and took the reader on a visual journey through out the earlier scenes. Not only that, he also created Ensign Varris; showing us his diversity as a writer.

Jolla's earlier pieces of Era's incarceration within the mental institute were utterly inspiring. They kept me and I am sure many others, glued to the screen to see what the next chapter in the young woman's journey would be. Her writing from within the hospital with Bran was again spellbinding. She has such a way with words, a flare for the visual and emotional, totally brilliant.

Mieke totally surprised me through out this series and with what she has written since. In this episode she has given us a huge insight into the character of Branwen, exploring the Marine Psychologists mind and past through compelling reading.

Robert Snow, well, as always my rock of strength and reason! He has proved to me time and time again the versatility he contains within, not just writing one NPC, but creating what feels like hundreds, bringing each of them to life as individuals. His clips left me reeling, literally screaming out 'He did *not* just do that!', and also laughing my head off, ~Admiral? Woops!~ There are *so* many notable quotes from his fingertips that I don't think we would be able to fit them onto the site!

Jonas, WOW… Jonas. What more can I say? A hell of a lot actually! I adore him! Writing with Jonas has brought out something within myself that I didn't know existed. He completely floored me with what he wrote, how much he wrote and the unbelievable quality of his writing. I love Bailes style, I love his quips and jokes; again another writer that would fill the entire site with quotes. To write with Jonas is like watching a talented artist paint; poetry in motion, its thrilling, breath taking and totally humbling.

Michal, OMG! Again another writer that has had me completely transfixed to my computer screen, screaming out in laughter, shivering with cold chills… I am completely in awe of her skills and at the speed she can write. She has taken Faylin through so much in such a short space of time, and I admit it has been difficult at times to keep up with her. The storylines she has created before this mission and the one that she has weaved into this are so amazing that words do fail me. The character of Faylin has been through so much; love triangles, the death of her daughter, falling in love with Steven and to then fall apart. Her creation of the four D's was absolutely wonderful. She had me laughing my head off with their humor and transfixed in silence with the depth of her character.

No one has surprised me more than Stuart. He has done some wonderful work with Michal in the story to their two characters, taking an average marine and really juicing him up with a love interest like never before. Yet as a writer he has shown his incredible skill, bringing to life the NPC Marine group with what was a touching and emotional scene of Norma Jeans death. But what knocked me off my chair, had my breath catching in my throat, hand covering my mouth, eyes misting and chest swelling with pride, admiration, shock and joy was the clip of the finale, part 26. He took the brief and created something so powerfully moving, more than I could have ever expected, surpassing all expectations to bring this series to a close. It was the exact note I wanted this series to end on and I could never have done it as well as he.

I take a moment to applaud everyone that joined in this series, all of them have taken so much of their time, poured in so much of their heart into it, and the shear volume of effort they all put in leaves me in total awe. They have raised the bar to new heights, taken me and I hope the rest of you, on an emotional journey. To that end I nominate them all for simmer of the mission, although Stuart does steal first place in my heart for the wonderful close to the series.

D~

~Fly away from here~

Lyrics from 'Who wants to live forever' by Queen

~From this dark cold hotel room~

And 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan

~And the endlessness that you fear~

Dedicated to our fallen heroes, to name but a few;

Commander Kol: (Obituary written by Stuart)

The Klingons have a saying. "Today is a good day to die." And indeed for one warrior, who proudly lead his men on the field of combat, the saying held true. Kol, the former Executive Officer of the USS Galaxy, and Saber Squadron leader, died fighting against the Hydran armada as they threatened the safety of the Rihannsu people and the entire Alpha quadrant. Bravely, with little ammo or shielding left, Kol sacrificed his life, and destroyed a Hydran cruiser in the process. His actions strengthened the resolve of the entire squadron and upon returning to the fight they took it to the Hydrans in his name. May he be welcomed into Sto-vo-kor by Kahless with songs proclaiming his brave deeds and many a tankard of bloodwine.

~You are pulled from the wreckage~

Captain Christopher Summers: (Obituary written by Stuart)

A great leader of men, with many years of service under his belt, he took on the reigns of the mighty USS Miranda and began the first steps to forging a new and exciting chapter in its existence. Having taken command of the Fleet, he bravely defended ch'Rihan while outnumbered and out gunned. He died during the first attack against the Hydran armada. He is survived by his estranged wife Allison and their daughter Lieutenant Commander Rachael Summers.

~Of your silent reverie~

Captain Margarethe Vogler: (Obituary written by Brian)

A veteran and decorated Starfleet officer for nearly forty years, Captain Vogler was killed during the first encounter with the Hydran fleet at Romulus. She commanded several other starships prior to her most recent assignment as CO of the USS Exeter, and participated in numerous key battles during the Dominion War and following the Borg

incursion at Wolf 359. Known for her strong and often brassy personality, Captain Vogler was also highly-regarded by her peers, her superiors and her subordinates for her courage and tenacity, but particularly for her ability in shaping new Academy graduates into skilled and confident officers. Her loss will be felt by many in Starfleet, but none moreso than those who served under her final command aboard the Exeter.

~You're in the arms of the angel~

Commander Marc Reardon (Obituary written by Brian)

Marc Reardon was assigned as First Officer of the USS Exeter following three years as First Officer of the USS Minnesota. Hand-picked by Captain Vogler, Commander Reardon was considered by some to be an up-and-coming officer, one who it was expected would be ready for his own command after serving under Vogler's tutelage for a few years. Commander Reardon was killed in battle with they Hydran fleet at Romulus; he is survived by his wife, two children, his parents, and three sisters.

~May you find some comfort here~

For all our fallen brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, friends and loved ones who gave their most precious gift; their life, to save the galaxy from tyranny. May we find peace in the knowledge that the heart of the Federation and its Allies beats in unity for peace, truth and justice.

For those who have fallen in times past and present, for the millions who gave their life in one War or another, who laid down their life for a just cause; I implore those here to tip your hats, charge your glasses, rise up and salute those that gave of themselves, whether with their blood or their service to ensure your freedom.

So please now make this pledge, this vow, and say together with clarity, resolution and honor, in one voice:

"WE WILL REMEMBER THEM"

~You're in the arms of the angel~

For those that perished on Romulus on that fateful day, and for those that died in the heavens beyond and for all those that survived:

~May you find some comfort here.~

"Where do we go from here?"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO - USS Galaxy

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

Stepping around a damage control crew as they hurried to another assignment Kimberly continued to her own destination quietly, mostly ignoring the crew around her as she passed them. For days now it had been an almost constant stream of triage, surgery and adrenaline. Now the battles were done there was the inevitable aftermath.

Engineers were scurrying about the great ship, once again going about their relentless duty to keep the mighty vessel operational, repairing the battle damage and refitting the ship in preparation for its next assignment. You couldn't turn around recently without tripping over an engineer or someone from ops fixing this, tweaking that or replacing something. It was as if there was no part of the ship that didn't require their attention at the moment.

~ Not surprising really considering what we've had thrown at us these last few weeks. Hellbores, hullbreaches and carnage. ~

Someone had said earlier that they had made history here. That they had done something that would be remembered for a long time to come. She had been tempted to reply with a quote that had come to mind, one she couldn't remember who said it originally, but seemed very appropriate. You do not make history. You can only hope to survive it.

They had survived, well, most of them had.

"Typical," she heard as she passed an open doorway. Looking in as she passed she saw a handful of techs man handling a large computer unit into place, "Frelling officers get to call all the shots, they get all the glory, then we get to clean up the mess that's left." The tech right under the console griped.

Walking on she shook her head sadly, ~ Not all the mess. ~ she thought as she continued. Turning into a cargo bay she lowered the lights slightly to a dimmer setting as she entered and looked over the many body bags that were laid out in neat rows. ~ Only the technological mess. Here's the medical aftermath ~ she thought sombrely to herself.

Picking up a PADD from beside the door she slowly moved through the rows. The bay was cool, and each corpse had a small stasis generator on it to preserve them. The cool pale blue glow surrounding each body only added to the chill in the room, the cold colour doing nothing to warm the room or the task at hand. Checking each and every corpse she verified the data tag attached around their neck and made sure a valid death certificate had been filed. Performing perhaps the one duty any CMO loathed she signed off each and every death certificate, checked each persons file for religious or cultural traditions that were to be performed or observed.

Working almost non stop she started at one end of the bay and slowly worked her way across, not even realising when the ship slipped quietly from gamma into delta shift, not even noticing that as she methodically worked the tears that slipped from her eyes occasionally as she read the name of someone whose face she could recall in life.

Pausing around four in the morning she walked over to the replicator in the bay and ordered some water, shivering slightly as she drank the cool liquid she realised how eerie it was in the bay, how quiet. So many voices that will never be heard again. Shaking her head she remembered something else she had heard a long time ago.

~ I believe that when we leave a place, part of it goes with us and part of us remains. Go anywhere, when it is quiet, and just listen. After a while, you will hear the echoes of all our conversations. Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls for as long as this place remains. ~

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

Deck 40, Main Engineering

With the defeat of the Triad Fleet; re-taking Romulus and returning it to the Romulan Star Empire, TJ finally sent a signal to CIC that he was powering down the modifications to stand-by status.

That's when the fun began. Repairs galore awaited him and every other availible 'Tech Head' and he knew full well that Dawson would be up long hours putting his ship back together just long enough for her to get to a starbase or Atlantis. He didn't mind. Hell, why should he? After the little trip to the Delta Quadrant, he was used to it. And besides, with the thrill of victory, his energy level would be up for a while, so he needed a constructive outlet.

He gathered up a replacement spanner and an extra PADD before he headed out to Deck 13. The fire suppresion system was finally getting looked at and a crew was there already going over the various conduits, taps and what not.

Jacen was helping Medical after the Triad left. Last time he spoke to him, he was heading back to thier quarters for a quick nap and a change of cloths before going to the Cantina to see where he would be needed.

TJ saw Cadet Daniels running around, he still needed to thank her, even after nearly a month after saving him. Either she was avoiding him or thier paths just never crossed. Ah well, he'll get to it when it's timing was right.

He headed out of Engineering to the nearest lift. It was going to be a long couple of days, but he planned on meeting them with a smile.

"Heretic Hero"

by
Praetor Hitan tr'Chandrix,
Head of Rihannsu Government

Proconsul Omar,
Head of the Romulan Senate and Tal Shiar Agent

Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer, USS Galaxy

The rebellion had been quashed almost as fast as it had started. After the Starfleet ships had taken the Praetor's ship under their protection, the first thing that had been done was an immediate transport of Hazard and Marine recon specialists to the ship when scans had detected weapons-fire and explosive decompression in key areas of the ship.

Once the personnel began to beam into the unprotected sections of the ship and launch an aggressive disarming of those who were not 'agreeable' to the demand to cease-fire, the rest had dropped their initiative. Most tried to blend into the 'winning side' after noticing the half dozen ships drop out of warp alongside the bird of prey. For the most part, they failed to convince anyone. Romulan self-preservation generally wins out over everything else when in the lower ranks and faced with an open airlock.

Deals are made, as they always were in their society, and only a select few were spared the brig, and offered an uncertain future, depending on how many were left of their people.

The insurrection had not been led or initiated by Proconsul Omar; he had also had his life attempted upon, as well as just about every Senator on board. Though it was likely that one of them financed the revolt and faked the attempt on his or her own life to escape culpability in the event of failure.

Hitan still simmered as to who it was on the government seat who had been that impetuous. The Tal Shiar was more than likely involved. It only served to reinforce the current Praetor's resolve in denying the obsolete agency their petitions to rejoin the upper ranks of government structure and insinuate themselves as the favoured within the Praetorate. Oh, no... he'd bury them forever. They'd been the source for more wars, conflict, deception, and power-grabs than any other agency in Rihannsu history, and perhaps rivalled the Federation's Section 31.

Once ch'Rihan was liberated, he'd forsake the Tal Shiar, decimate their ranks, hunt them down, and erase them from history. They would befall the same justice Section 31 had at the hands of the loyalist Federationists.

Complete dissolution and evisceration from all matters of import within all sectors of government. They deserved nothing less for what he knew to be their final desperate act at a grab for power.

They would find nothing but sand at the pinnacle of their venture. All of which would pass through their stained fingers. And then they would plummet back to the earth. Let them taste humility.

On that basis, the Praetor had refused to see anyone, even the Starfleet officers who had arrived to escort his ship back to the fleet. Oh, he'd been told of the defeat of the Hydran forces. Even now, the rest of the entrenched invaders were being routed off the planet. It would not be an easy task, but his people would prevail. He'd make sure of it.

Still, he would not be seen as 'in bed' with the Federation forces. His whole tenure as Praetor of the Rihannsu Empire was stunted with obscure and rare imperfections that no one person should live through. They say that a good leader is one that not only makes the hard decisions that need to be done, but one that takes the blame for when things go awry as well.

Well, Hitan tr'Chandrix was going to be raked through the coals no matter the outcome. Federation saviors? How revolting.

[Praetor, we're entering communications range of ch'Rihan.] The underlying current of joy was more than evident in the centurion's voice; video feeds routed through the Federation vessels on their secure channels had presented the image of the dessicated and eviscerated Starbeast drifting into lazy orbit about the planet and its moon. The Hydran forces were being beaten back at the surprising appearance of the Lyran forces that showed up unannounced.

Hitan ran his hands through his greying hairs at the edge of his hairline, sagging into his chair as he did so. Romulan forces were decimated, with no chance of repelling a pack of Targ, let alone any division of the forces that now surrounded his planet in place of the Hydrans.

Had he traded one conqueror for another?

****

Pant. Pant. Pant.

Breathe deep. The end is nigh.

The others are here, but they won't stop me. They can't. I'm what Earthers would call the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. I go to commune with Ulazhi and the Stargod's children.

****

The IRV Llaiir Jorrah arrived at the Rihannsu Outer Rim borders shortly after the majority of the enemy forces had been routed and sent into retreat. His homeworld hung dark against the backdrop of stars and mottled shapes trespassing over it. A great rent in the surface overshone all others as the day side came around into view from the bridge of the aged Bird of Prey. Hitan stood upon the dais overseeing the bridge, his face set in stone at the appearance of his once bright world gone dim, diseased with rot and oozing sores where the once bright jewel now lay blackened and wrecked. The immense land mass where his ship had earlier gone into warp within the gravity well lay bare its sickened soul. It would take generations to return his world to the beauty it once beheld as its residence in the heavens of lesser cultures. He would not live to see it, but he would live long enough to see his people return to their regal and noble natures. They did not relinquish their world once, he would see to it that it would not happen now, either.

"Open communications. All frequencies and subspace bands."

****

In the guest quarters one deck down, Kylar Curran had assembled the remnants of one of the servo-motors that had given him limited mobility since almost losing his ability to walk almost three months ago. During the fire-fight on board the ship, there'd been more than one Romulan who'd taken a disliking to the Federation presence, regardless of whatever aid had been offered to recover their planet and system from the Hydran aspect of the Triad. Still, Curran had made an effort to join the battle on the side of the Praetor, as it was Hitan who he'd sworn Federation and Starfleet aid to, not the populatin at large. Though, to the Kelvan, Hitan *was* Romulus.

Not the varied disgruntled inhabitants nursing a wounded pride at having to cede to his leader's wishes.

Still, he'd been assigned temporary quarters until he could be returned to his station on Romulus. He had an obligation to fulfill, and now that he had composed and fulfilled another, his former took precedence once again.

He felt content now. He would die with dignity and faith restored.

The communications grid crackled to life beside him, and he cast an eye, still bright blue with ice-cold pupils, at the terminal. Furrowing his brow at the snowed image, he lay the servo down on the table beside him and leaned over to fine-tune the signal.

"...fellow Rihannsu, your determination and sacrifice has succeeded in driving off the invading forces from orbit. Fight, my countrymen, look to each other for support in this important time. This time infused with the blood and courage of our people. Pick up anything nearby. A branch from a tree, a spanner, a rock... and take it to those that will not leave our homeland!"

Kylar tilted his head, trying to read the terminal dials. His Rihannsu was a touch on the rusty side, so it took him a little longer than expected to translate the scrawling symbols to access the EQ to clear up the signal.

"Your Praetor has come home to lead you to final victory, my people. What was ours once will be again, for I decree that the treaty with the Federation has been satisfied and their services are no longer required.

They may return to their own systems unmolested immediately. All Federation citizens on ch'Rihan soil are to be returned..."

Kylar's features froze in a visage of mixed emotion and turmoil. He needed to be back on ch'Rihan. This would not do. Ignoring the pain in his side, he half-ran, half-dragged himself to the bulkhead and banged on it, calling to anyone that would listen.

****

The demon tries to ply its serpent tongue on me. It knows I come for it.

Its lies of victory scream falsehoods and blasphemy.

The blood tastes sickly sweet, the last one I took had a strong heart and will. Ulazhi will grow stronger with the nectar, but I hear her calling for the elixir. Time is waning.

The beast that walks within me whispers its nurturing chords of love and promises for when I complete my mission. My teeth clatter against each other.

diediediediediediediedie

Thank the goddess for the faith she has in me, and for delivering one of her prize matrons to assist and encourage me, keeping my focus when obstacles were met. I am about to face my true test, as I feel the resistance on my approach. It is near.

sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff

I stop, crouching on all fours, feeling the tentacles of the Stargod caress me. It has come to offer its support. I am growing into a demi-god, as I feel strength and power course through my veins. I fully believe nothing can stop me.

sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff

There! I've caught its scent. The Stargod offers itself up, reaching out from above my shoulders as I crawl to my prey, and strangle the demonspawn.

Nothing left to save it now.

****

"Close com-" The doors to the gangway that lead to the next deck down parted, and Hitan heard a curdled response from somewhere behind him.

Turning for what seemed an eternity, he caught out of the corner of his eye wavering tentacles reaching out in all directions to take hold of all nearby Rihannsu officers on the Bridge of the IRV Llaiir Jorrah, to shake them like ragdolls before throwing them aside like they were only in the way.

Before he could snap off an order to disarm or destroy the intruder, a dark tentacle, a wisp of dirty cinnamon and rotten garbage wafted by his nose shortly before he heard it crunch in response to the impact. The Praetor felt blood erupt down over his mouth even has he was thrown over the back of the chair that had spun around with him.

Something dark and hideous bounded across the bridge deck, knocking out lighted consoles and anything that moved that were in-themselves promptly killed. Hitan tried to scramble to the phaser niche embedded into the side of his command chair, but whatever it was that had invaded the bridge module jumped high into the air and landed on the side of the chair, staring down at the Praetor with a pair of glowing red eyes and a long swirling tongue that dripped blood from a razor-tipped beak that had emerged from withing the creature's humanoid-shaped maw, opening impossibly wide as it screamed a high-pitched wail that rent through his eardums. More of his blood dripped out from the drums, he knew.

He threw out a fist, and it was caught in one tentacle. Same went for the other. Its tongue snakes out, saliva dripping in Hitan's eyes, and the death stench is overpowering.

****

I taste the demon's blood, and Ulazhi's truth overwhelms me. Its blood taste is incredible! I want the creature to understand the pain it has caused my Goddess, so I twist the Stargod's children around its hands and legs, satisfied on feeling the snap of bone.

****

Hitan winced at the bones cracking in his hands and limbs, but resists the urge to cry out. Hopefully the communications bands had not closed, for this would surely galvanize his people. Then he looks into the creature's primal eyes, and knows his end is coming.

****

Do it! Killkillkillkillkillkill it! Eat it maim it feed me feed me

Without hesitation, the Messenger extends its beak outward, and rams it into Hitan's chest, tearing and chewing at the meat and bone until they separate into bloody strips, which the creature pulls out in strands, chucking its head back and swallowing in chunks as it tossed its beak back. One more plunge, and out came the Praetor's heart. The Messenger held the heart in its maw for all of the remaining seconds of the Romulan leader's life, then released the demon's hands.

helpmehelpmehelpmeohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodswhathaveidone

The creature stumbles back, squealing, its head shaking back and forth, body convulsing. The bloodied heart, bit in half with the seizures, tumbled to the deck. The Messenger cries out for its Goddess, but there is no answer as its body shifts and metamorphises. The beast has left him.

And has left Kylar Curran behind in its wake, nothing but a shell of the

former incarnation, save for a disruptor blast on his left side. He is

soon surrounded by other Rihannsu, and taken into custody rather unceremoniously.

****

"How did you know?"

The dark figure, watching on a monitor the events that occurred on the Bridge, chuckled at the Proconsul, who himself was unsure of what had just happened.

"I'm the Praetor. I know everything. You should know that by now, Omar. I told you once before that I am never undefended."

Hitan tr'Chandrix stepped out from the shadows and poured the two of them each a snifter of Ale. "I suppose I'll have a harder time finding another decoy with most of the planetary resources depleted, and an inability to handsomely pay one for the job because of."

The Proconsul nodded his head slightly, never taking his eyes off Hitan.

Deposing him would not be as easy as he'd thought. And that he believed Hitan knew it.  

"Picking Up the Pieces"

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

=Full Circle=
=Romulus=

The shuttle landed. Conservator Nara was waiting for the young human woman, who disembarked and immediately avoided her gaze. Nara led one of Romulus' few fully funded scientific think tanks, and had quickly agreed to meet Elissa... even so far from the beating heart of Romulan politics. It seemed politics were still on holiday, so soon after the storm had passed.

"Ensign."

"Conservator."

"I hear talk of your service aboard the Exeter."

"I did nothing special. How could you possible have heard anything?"

Nara shrugged. "I was lying in an attempt to disarm you and let you trust me enough not to avert your eyes. It is bad for your health to wear your shame like a crown." Without missing a beat, Nara smiled her way and put on an air of excitement. "So, are you being promoted?"

Elissa shook her head. "Nice tact. Actually, I'm being transferred to the Galaxy."

"Good for you."

"Thank you."

"Don't. I didn't actually mean it. Starships are trouble."

For a while, they'd walked through the village, talking about how the battle had concluded. The monster had been slain, the enemy defeated, the good guys triumphant. It had the ring of a fairy tale to it, but Ensign Elissa Skylark did not feel any victory in her heart, other than the hope of soon returning to the work she was meant to do. Those thoughts faded as they arrived at their destination.

Remembering her etiquette, Elissa turned to the Romulan. "I'd like to thank you for seeing me on such short notice." She stepped through the skeletal threshold of Sorval's estate. Not much of it had survived the assault.

"Nonsense," the Romulan woman said, waving her hand. Both of them stood, looking it over. Both had known him, as a scientist and as a man, and the silence that descended formed a tenuous bond between them.

Nara had been one of his largest critics, if only to push his work to greater reward, and even now in this place she wasn't willing to admit total defeat. A stalemate was the best her pride would allow. "I know what serving on a starship does to your free time. It's why I've never left Romulus."

"But you're missing so much," Elissa argued in her more plaintive voice.

"And for that, I am eternally grateful."

Skylark grimaced and nodded, and crossed her arms as she studied the floor. Coming back here was not something she'd looked forward to doing, but she knew she had to. It was not the scientist in her that had made it imperative, but something else. Something far more elemental. That made it unbearable for her to keep any shame she'd felt a secret. She had failed Sorval, and the Romulans in this village, and yet here was Nara, who had not only agreed to meet her here, but had encouraged Elissa to come.

"All of us die for a reason, even if that reason never becomes clear.

It is hubris that makes us think we can know all things, especially our role in this life," Nara explained. "Sorval died shielding you. And now, you get to continue his legacy." She lifted up a deceptively small padd. "His life's work is on here. The elements were kind enough to spare it."

Elissa looked down at the padd, then in Nara's eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

"Take it."

"I'm... I'm honored." She accepted it with both hands.

"It's not an honor. It's a burden. Your burden." It was not Nara's way to forgive, any more than it was her way to yield to opposition. "I trust you'll know what to do with it, what with your skill with the Iconian dig. Or was that luck? It would certainly take a genius to make sense of anything Sorval ever did." She stared intently at Elissa.

"You can go now."

"We'll talk again?"

"Probably not. Maybe. If he was on to something. Which my experience would lead me to believe is not the case. Even then, enough of us resent the Federation for our own supplication. You can blame your new friend for that."

Elissa shook her head, smiling. She had grown quite immune to the Romulan tendency to make everything more subtle and complicated than it needed to be. There was enough common ground between them, however, because they did share a language. The vocabulary of science was immutable and pure. "We'll talk again."

Nara smirked. "Starfleet. Always the optimists."

"On our best days, anyway."

=End Log=

"Against All Odds" Part One

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

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

(Ki Baratan)

With fire support from orbital bombardment, fighter strikes, and with the arrival of fresh, numerous, battle ready troops with domestic support and a thirst to recapture their homes, Romulus was back within Allied hands in a matter of hours. Most of the Breen had given up rather than face anihilation. The T'Kith'kin died hard, but died eventually, and the Hydrans no longer had the hunger for combat after witnessing their God's destruction. Entire Divisions and Armies gave up at a time, leaving only isolated pockets of fanatical resistance.

Resistance which was in short order contained and being crushed.

The fighting in Ki Baratan was officially to come to a close at this ceremony. A quarter of a million enemy troops, all kinds of enemy technology, and with them any chance of retaking the planet were to be surrendered. This party consisted of a Breen equivalent to a Lieutenant General, a Hydran General, and two Hydran Brigadier Generals who all had control of forces in and around the city.

And they were surrendering to a Lieutenant Colonel. A Terran might call it poetic justice... the ironing as they say, was delicious.

Wait that wasn't right... oh well, he'd been awake for days, he was hurting, tired, dirty, and had watched too many people die behind enemy lines for a hellish three weeks.

For'kel believed firmly that politics should remain outside the perview of warriors. His indoctrination in xeno-military history demonstrated that almost without fail when warriors became politicians, their armies served their political means, and when the state was formed solely around the military, neither lasted very long. With their respective forces nearly crushed, the Stagnorian couldn't help but wonder what kind of upheavels on all sides would result from this.

Next to him stood La'tren... one of the rare Romulans to have achieved his rank through work with only moderate political considerations. The need to coordinate efforts meant For'kel was operationally in charge, despite La'tren's senior rank. Still, as much as politics and war shouldn't mix, they did... as symbolism was key to both. To the Romulans in particular, For'kel had come to know symbolism was beyond important. It was something that, despite all their differences, his people and they shared. "Generals." For'kel acted as if he hadn't just been through hell in a hand basket. "Your soldiers will relinquish all arms in an orderly, peaceful, and verifiable fashion. All equipment on planet 'remains' on planet in current condition, which will be verified by Romulan officials. You and your soldiers will adhere to and obey all orders and rules set forth, and dutifully respond to any directions given by allied soldiers without hesitation. You and your men will be treated in conditions as indicated by accepted inter-stellar norms and in accordance with the articles of war. Any violation of these terms will be punished in a manner befitting the violation, and these terms are non-negotiable. Agreed?"

One could swear the Breen looked disappointed. It was obvious they'd hoped for a chance to negotiate. For'kel could only sympathize... he certainly wouldn't want to be in their shoes. "Agreed." The creature vocalized.

"Agreed." His Hydran comrade chirp-echoed. For'kel passed a PADD, the formal surrender document detailing all the conditions set forth. "If you understand these terms as presented, sign it."

The opposite side looked over everything. There was some translation work, and eventually the signitures and thumb print came. The Breen went to pass the document back to For'kel.

"Oh no." The objection came as the Stagnorian anticipated this. Reception of a surrender was in fact probably one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed on a combatant commander, but again, symbolism mattered. The Hydrans, and by proxy the Breen, had convinced themselves the Romulans were an inferior race. He sure as hell wasn't going to give them the satisfaction... and the Romulans had been humiliated enough to deserve some revenge. "He..." For'kel thumbed at the senior Hydran officer. "Will present it to General La'tren."

They hesitated. Even La'tren looked dumb-founded by the gesture. It wasn't without precedent mind you, but in his Romulan sensibility, he'd clearly expected For'kel to take the honor.

And using his same Romulan sensibilities, he sure as hell wasn't about to argue the point.

And there, surrounded by the ruined city-scape of an embattled capitol, the official recognition of defeat had been administered, and to a Romulan general. One who himself had grown from fairly modest means to, as history would record, become one of the people of the hour at a time his world needed him most.

As they both headed back to his staff hover-car, For'kel couldn't help but take a look around at the rubble... the city that had been destroyed during the course of a war in which the goal was it's possession. It was what his people had bled, killed, and died for... perhaps if someone stared at the ashes long enough, they could see the opportunity, the hope in a better future, that he did.

"Against All Odds" Part Two 'The Return Trip'

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

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

(Hopper)

The ride home would be quick... even faster as For'kel spent the time in reflection. He had a nice collection of 'war trophies' as it were. He'd been favored with a pair of ceremonial blades... one from La'tren, a gift between allies (For'kel had given to him a copy of the 'Wanted, dead or alive' file where he, along with just about every other member of the resistance with any prominence was mentioned), and one from the Empress herself upon the return of the Palace to Romulan control. There were others, the original hit list for one, but it was a picture that drew his attention right now.

(The Imperial Palace)

Every part of his body was aching, sore, and more then one place was just damned painful. None the less, For'kel was in the hover car by La'tren's side. "We should start assigning search and rescue, burial, and clean up details, just to make sure things get under way."

"Consider it done." La'tren gave a nod. "It has been... enlightening... fighting along side you Colonel."

For'kel smirked. "You too General, you too." For'kel watched the area whiz by, patrols mopping up holdouts and capturing large stockpiles of enemy equipment. "We sure the palace is secure?"

The 101st (Or what was left of it) had effectively liberated the Palace, clearing a corridor for reinforcements. For'kel however had made sure to issue orders that the Marines were not to actually enter the building until he had arrived, and even then not until Romulan forces had done so. It was a face saving measure, a show of respect, and most importantly a needed rallying symbol. It served more of a strategic purpose than a tactical one.

By the time they arrived, the Romulans had already entered the palace and done the combing. There was still some time before the Romulans' and Jii's respective delegations arrived. What hurt could there be in guaranteeing security measures were in place?

The staff car came to a stop as they passed the protective curtain. Engineers were already hard at work in restoring the capitol to it's former glory. The roads as they were had been cleared of debris, and repairs were slowly but surely transforming the burned out buildings and bombed structures. It was a rather impressive feat just to watch...

Too bad he didn't come to Romulus just to watch.

"I should report in to what's left of our Command structure." La'tren ordered the vehicle to stop. "It has been an honor to serve with you, Colonel."

"Likewise La'tren." They gave each other a hearty handshake. "Take care of yourself."

For'kel got out, and watched as the vehicle began a circutuitous path on it's way back out. The Imperial Palace was amazingly large, and amazingly stunning. As if it's sheer scale wasn't impressive enough, it seemed small, refined details went into every square inch. It was larger then any residential building, save maybe some skyscrapers, that he'd ever seen before.

The trip up the stairs was especially a pain in the ass, but as they were still waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, it seemed they had plenty of ti... "Well well, look at who is finally on her feet!"

Lieutenant Dana Collins turned around, a broad grin on her face. "You didn't expect me to let you have all the fun, did you?"

"More like I didn't expect you to be as lazy as you've been." He teased. "So... ever see the inside of the Romulan Imperial Palace?"

"Left that off the guided tour I'm afraid." Dana smirked back.

"It would be a shame to turn it back over to the Empress without first insuring her safety." For'kel saluted the Romulan guards at the door. "Let's go."

"In there?" She chuckled, shaking her head. "You really have let this whole thing go to your head."

"Stop giving me lip Marine." For'kel looked back dead seriously before they both started laughing. "You coming or not?"

"Would be difficult to explain to your wife that you got through the whole war only to die by some sort of trap." Relenting, she began following. "Besides, what gal would turn down the chance to play Princess?"

Exhausted didn't really describe how tired he was, falling far short, but none the less they ought to be here for the official turn over. It was one of those once in a lifetime things after all. For'kel just wanted to get whatever rock it was in his boot out first. Finding the closest thing to a chair... more like a really small sofa with a really 'really' high back. The most elaborate piece of seating he ever did see.

Dana watched on. "Fork..."

"Wait a minute." The Stagnorian murmured, untying his boot.

"For'kel..."

"One minute." He upended the boot, shaking out a loose pebble.

"For'kel!"

"Just one damned minute!"

Then she snapped a photograph, catching him in a classic 'deer in headlights' stare.

"What was that for?"

"Look behind you." She replied while chuckling. This would make a hell of a momento. "That's the imperial throne!"

"Shit!" He jumped out, looking back. Fortunately nobody was around... they might have a hissy-fit if they saw a Federation Marine on the royal throne. "Okay, let's pretend that didn't occur."

"Not going to happen." Dana said teasingly, hiding the camera.

"Why didn't you say something?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder what it is your wife sees in you, For'kel Arvelion."

"Phyrric Victory"

Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, Currently Unassigned

CIC, ACTO Office, Deck 7, USS Miranda
=============================

~Mammals, it would seem, have selective memories~ Th'Khiss K'aa reflected, peering down over the guardrail at the grinning tactical staff below, still flush from the victory of the Second Battle of Romulus. Most spirits were high, despite the tremendous hammering the Miranda received from both the Hydran Starbeast and the T'Kith'Kin bio-plasma weapons. Though the dead were mourned and the injured worried over, victory had tempered the losses to something more tolerable than what defeat had doled out.

The Gorn brooded on the losses from the two fleet battles, and obsessed over what could have been done – and what *should* have been done. The first battle had been a hard, costly lesson, and Captain Summers – a leader whose legend was forged over years of exploration, diplomacy and battle – had paid for the Federation's lack of preparedness with his life.

Turning from the guardrail, K'aa returned to his office but didn't sit in the chair that had been returned to it – his kneeling platform, more comfortable to Gorn anatomy, had already been removed. Rather than sitting in the uncomfortable, human-designed furniture, he paced and reflected on the battles to prepare his tactical analysis – his last official task as Assistant Chief Tactical Officer.

The Second Battle was a triumph, but had elements that disturbed the reptilian. The Triad fleet was driven off, and the Hydran and Breen had incurred significant losses. Even the T'Kith'Kin, with their living starships, had experienced an unprecedented loss of warships, but many had been crushed by the Starbeast's vain attempt to repair itself. K'aa's solution to use a modified tractor beam had worked, but required the firepower of escorts to be effective. Further, almost a quarter of the T'Kith'Kin fleet hadn't even fired a single volley, something that wouldn't be popular with the command staff once he reported it.

The last thought caused K'aa to grimace. Of course, *he* wouldn't be reporting it – that would be left to his replacement.

Pacing, he reflected on his own personal experience during the battle, and wondered if anything he had said or done had resulted in him being removed from Tactical. It was K'aa's second battle on the Miranda's bridge, and the Gorn hissed contentedly with no small measure of pride that his eyes had witnessed defeat for the Hydrans, Breen, T'Kith'Kin and the Borg Collective, and that his claws had unleashed firepower that even the largest of Gorn heavy cruisers would envy. The tactical decisions had been sound, and the strategies effective – but his professional reward, left in his personal directory from Starfleet Command, left a bitter, rancid taste in his mouth.

REASSIGNED FROM TACTICAL: USS MIRANDA – NEW POST PENDING

Looking around the small, Spartan office, the reptilian also reflected on the amount time he had spent here – the decisions he had made, the policies he had put into effect, and the work he had done. He also considered the people he worked with – principally Lieutenant t'Khnialmnae, Chief Aerk, and Chris Daniels. The accomplishments they made since Commander Hammond's crippling injury had made Miranda's new CIC an very effective unit – coordinating a fleet of over five-hundred warships over ch'Rihan bore that testament.

Those days, however, were seas already sailed – a new wind had risen and determined that Th'Khiss K'aa would serve elsewhere.

Despite the temperature setting, the Gorn felt cold and, not for the first time since boarding the Miranda, unsettled. Something else, something… sinister had happened over ch'Rihan's skies that he could feel only as a frigid tingling up his spine and a deep, cold emptiness in the pit of his stomach no amount of hot food could warm or fill.

Something from his past writhed, and growled, and screamed in a sickening triumph of its own.

Snorting, K'aa shook his large head to dismiss the icy feeling of dread and disappointment. This office was his no more – he'd finish the analysis in his quarters where he could drape the Chilkat blanket over his shoulders to drive off the chill. It was a better place for contemplation, and there was much for K'aa to dwell on.

His synopsis.

His career.

Foremost in his brooding mind though, was the thought of the late Christopher Summers now resting honorably amongst his ancestors, and the T'Kith'Kin – who K'aa felt were the true authors of the legendary Captain's fall.

"Finally...A Light at the End of the Tunnel"
by
Commander Kisha Ventar, CoSurg
Commander Rayna Lamar, Security Guard

(Days before Victory)

Rayna's wrist was hurting and she felt feverish. She kept trying to keep up with the group she was with but to no avail. She just had to sit down and rest. They started ahead without her. Rayna figured that she'd catch up once she rested. With the lack of substantial food and water and a fever, she felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground...against the wall. The woman kneeled down and checked her out, "I'll stay here with her. You all go on without us." They left the food rations with them.

(Few hours after Victory)

Word spread quickly and the group she was with came back along with a few others to give them the good news. Rayna seemed to not be any worse but she wasn't getting better either. "Now that we've won, we'll be able to get off this God-forsaken planet."

Rayna was happy too. This meant that she could get back to her kids. "I agree. I'm more than ready to go."

"How's your wrist?" Rayna shrugged, "It hurts like hell but I'll live." They all left to rejoin the others.

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

Kisha Ventar was exhausted. This had been a very stressful mission. Some were injured and they lost some . Kisha had heard that Murdock was on the Miranda. It had been a long time since they had seen each other or even talked with each other.

Kisha rested, reminiscing about the good old days when it was the four of them...Murdock, Maab, Ventar and Frankel. A tear formed at the corner of her eye. Except for Maab, they were all together and yet not together at all.

Kisha pushed her feelings aside. There was no time, the war needed to be finished. She reported back to sickbay to check up on her patients when a big cheer broke out on the ship. The beast was defeated and everyone was ready to celebrate.

She was sure that her job wasn't over yet as there were still those on the planet that might be injured. She wouldn't be resting until everyone was back on the ship, safe and sound.

"Evaluations"

(Brevet) Captain Brian Elessidil
CO, USS Exeter

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Acting Chief of Tactical, USS Exeter

In the day following the Triad's defeat and the final expulsion of the Hydrans from Romulus, Brian Elessidil took stock of all that had transpired, and particularly how it impacted the USS Exeter and its crew. Unlike the first battle with the Hydrans, the Exeter came out of this encounter with few casualties, a blessing Brian attributed to a number of factors, not the least of which was the capable cadre of officers who had lent their expertise to bolster the ship's native crew.

Standing in the empty conference room, he surveyed the serene face of Romulus below and the surrounding space, space that looked oddly desolate without the thousands of ships that had occupied it so very recently.

"So was it luck?" he asked Lt. Bental, whom he'd summoned initially to discuss post-battle assessments, a conversation that quickly gave way to simply general reflection on everything, including himself. His gaze still fixed outside the ship, he still wondered if Captain Vogler had made the right decision in having him assume command. "Certainly the Lyrans' arrival was. Think we would have held out without them?"

"There's no such thing, 'luck'." Saul told him. "Just too many factors to calculate a-priori. We would've held without them, but the battle would go longer and with many more deaths on both sides. The Exeter would've survived anyhow, I'm pretty certain."

Brian thought about that for a few seconds. "Maybe. We barely made it the first time. A protracted fight this time could've gone a lot worse." Even now that things *had* turned out okay, the thought still bothered him. "And once again, the Hydrans managed to catch us off guard," he added, turning to face Saul. "I'm talking about the Exeter. Had they come aboard in larger numbers, or even at a different part of the ship, we might not be having this conversation right now."

Saul folded his arms. "We did not have intelligence on that specific type of shield-piercing boarder vessel. Just like they didn't have any intelligence about some of our tricks such as the counter-Hellbore shield modulation. As I said, all factor not known a-priori."

He didn't think that Brian was trying to blame intelligence or him personally, so he let his arms drop to the sides.

"What's your point?" he inquired.

Elessidil sighed lightly and took a seat opposite Saul at the conference table. "I mean I can't seem to shake the feeling that we were a hair's width from disaster, Saul. And..." He hesitated in thought again for a moment, unsure if he should or even wanted to let his guard down. "...and I can't help but wonder if a more capable commander would somehow have done better," he finally admitted, setting aside the role of captain and of counselor and just being a person for the moment, something he hadn't had an opportunity to do in what felt like forever. "We only lost seven people this time around, which in terms of raw statistics is pretty good; but for me, it feels like seven people too many."

"You forget something. Two things, in fact."

Brian raised an eyebrow in interest.

"First, me and you caused the death of many more people. People with three legs. The boarding party, the crew of the three starships we destroyed, and probably many more in the fighters Bliss wiped out and in ships that we hit but not finished. Me and you will have to live with those deaths on our shoulders, too. I don't have a problem with it, though."

"No, I realize that," Brian replied, nodding slightly. "But existential inconsistency aside, I guess defense is a different matter. Sitting in that chair, you're expected to defend by whatever means necessary and to prevent every casualty possible of your own.

But you know what I mean," he added with a casual wave of his hand, not wishing to sound pedantic.

"Coming to the second point, I watched you on the bridge, Brian. You were into it. You didn't hesitate to wipe out the boarding party in the possible cost of our men's lives. I don't know if *I* would've dared to do the same. You took a decision, you made a judgment call, and considering that none of your men died as a result of your order it means your decision turned out well."

Saul shrugged his shoulders. "You know, I'm an amateur merchant. I toy with stocks and trades and such..."

That was quite an understatement - Saul was most likely the richest person on the Galaxy, following his little Ferengi stocks trick back after the terrorist attack on Leran Manev, and had capital, stocks and investments spread across the Alpha and Beta quadrants.

"...and when you dabble with trading, it's the same. You make a decision, and you don't know if you'll make a fine profit or pawn your underwear to compensate for the loss. But if you're a good businessmen, eventually the profits grow larger than the losses."

The Dutchman smiled. "So you can consider the results of the combat beginner's luck if you want. Me, I think you're one command merchant I'd love to do business with again."

Elessidil paused in thought again. He didn't entirely disagree with Saul, after all, Brian had first ventured into the command realm when he tested for bridge certification over four years ago and had learned a lot about command leadership and himself ever since. But this time, the buck stopped with him. It wasn't just another bridge watch. He wasn't only the Second Officer. This time, he was the Captain, and that felt a whole lot different.

"Probably should have handled Mullen differently," he muttered.

"Hm...still haven't figured out what to do about him. Aside from his popularity with the crew, I really thought putting him in the First Officer position would give him the opportunity he craved. Guess I underestimated his ambition."

"It has nothing to do with ambition." Saul replied. "He felt threatened by the outsider. It's his turf - 'who are we to tell him what to do?'. If they'd drop an outsider strategic operations officer on top of my head, I'd probably react pretty bad too." Although not as foolishly and openly as Mullen had, Saul added mentally.

"Of course he felt threatened, but it was his ambition that caused him to perceive a threat where none really existed. But you know, as much as he pissed me off, I feel like I understood him. I guess once a counselor, always a counselor," he chuckled. "He wanted to prove himself, he felt that he deserved more than what Captain Vogler gave him; and he genuinely cared about the crew. I've actually toyed with the idea of recommending he be made First Officer permanently -- heh, he'd probably be pissed that I didn't recommend him for Captain -- but the more I think about it, the more I think he just isn't ready.

Having some leadership skills and concern for your crew is one thing, but in my estimation if you can't conquer your own ego, you're not ready. More experienced men and women than Mullen have been corrupted by the power of command because they haven't learned to control their own ambition. If he can learn that lesson, I think he'll have a shot at it."

"He has time. Starfleet doesn't promote on skill and good intentions, I'm afraid. So as long as he's a Lieutenant, I doubt anyone will consider making him an XO permanently. And after his display before and during the battle, I wouldn't recommend him for anything."

It was obvious that Saul didn't have much appreciation for the Exeter's acting First officer.

"Yes, you're right about that," Brian agreed. "You know why he was so concerned about my decision to de-pressurize the cargo bay?" he asked, a note of empathy creeping into his voice. "His fiancee was part of the security detail." A small smile crossed his lips. "When he grows up, his heart will serve him well."

The Dutchman did not seem convinced. "You only prove that I'm right.

You know what *I* would do, if you tried to de-pressurize Nara?"

"What?"

Saul smirked. "I'd talk you out of it."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that any time soon," Brian replied.

Then he smirked back. "But if it does, I wouldn't bet on it."

"March of the ARCs"
by
2nd LT Greg Ward
CO of SAS-779, USS Galaxy

Major V.G. Drax
CO of 458th Marine Strike Unit, USS Beowulf-A

Major John J. McCandless
CO of 131st Marine Special Forces Unit, USS Eagle
and their assorted squads.

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

"Alright people we've got a hole in that planetary shields, start your apporach!!" shouted Tech Sergeat Carol "Foe-Hammer" Rowely from her station behind the controls of a new Raptor-class assault shuttles which could be considered an analog to the old Earth Navy's EA-6 Prowler which was a variant of the A-6 Intruder. The Raptors were designed to be apart of the new Battlestar-class of Command Carriers but they were cleared for this operation.

The first wave of Raptors and Pelicans were composed of the various marine units from over sixty ships at least including no more than the entire ARC units from across the boards as Greg ward noted as he stepped away from where he was standing behind Foe-Hammer while cradling his BR-55 Battle Rifle as he strode over to where Grace was manning the ECO station. "Report, Grace." Greg said over the din of weapons fire that could be heard from outside the ship.

"The sensors read that other than a few hundred surviving enemy fightercraft, we've got ourselves a clear passage onto the planet, sir." Grace said as she stood in as Raptor Zero One's Electronic Countermeasures Officer. Grace never once took her eyes off of the unique DRADIS Sensor network as the hundreds of transports and fighters flew down to Romulas. "So much for you avoiding stepping foot on chi'Rhian huh, boss?" Grace said in a slightly teasing tone.

Greg simply grunted in a nonverbal response as he turned to the other members of his squad. "Alright people, get your asses up and loaded, we hit the ground in less than a minute in the capital city. As you know from the unit briefing back on the Eagle, we'll be working with all of the other ARC units currently active, so I expect utter professionalism no matter what, ladies and gentlemen!" Greg said

A few moments later, as their fighter escorts flew past them overhead, hundreds if not thousands of marines hit the ground running especially in Raptor Zero One which had it's access door opening as it started it's landing cycle at which point as Second Lieutenant Greg Ward stepped out onto the wing of the shuttle before jumping down to the ground and firing his BR-55 at a Breen soldier which had crested a burnt grass knoll near the forced landing zone with a portable torp launcher and the hard fighting started in earnest.

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

A while later, Greg was in one of the commerace section of the capital in the remains of a outdoor cafe with two other unit COs in Drax from the Beowulf and McCandless from the Eagle. Greg knew Drax from their mutal time from both the Beowulf and from when Drax was apart of the 779 while it was still under Butch Flowers' command while McCandless was a "scrub" who had earned his rank on Xanthe a few years prior while apart of the USS Iwo Jima.

Right now the command group had a holo-map of the surrounding area hovering above it's projector on the table as a strange young Lance Corporal with the equally strange name of Slayton Chani read details off of her PADD. "Blue Team from the Beowulf's marine unit found two breen muntions piles in grid zeta by twenty one by three gamma. The weapons secured were mostly Breen in origin but they reported a large amount of romulan and federation weapons. Also, in grid theta by tweleve by nine marines from the starship Whitestar found what appears to be an acting prison zone with both federation and romulan personal in it. According to an Ensign Re'mal from the USS Hood that the Breen had intended to use them as a slave workforce or something to that affect until we showed up." Chani said as she held set the PADD on the table, finishing her report.

"It seems that everything is well in hand, any signs of marine section commanders from the other ships, Corporal?" McCandless asked as he got done inserting a new power cell into his M90.

"Aff sir, it seems that while Lieutenant Gaar'val from the Icarus is still unknown all of the other marine commander have been accounted for with the expection of a First Lieutenant Baile, he is still listed as MIA." Chani said, drawing the information from memory.

Drax rubbed his chin as his usual scowl settled over his craggy features, "I think I should take a couple of squads over to the palace and check in with Colonel Arvelion, Wolf." Drax said to Greg leaving the half-trill to nod absently before looking up and saluting his fellow ARC who then strode away from the area.

Greg then turned to McCandless and Chani, "Come on, we still got six sections of this city to check and double check for triad forces. Fox Hound and one thirty one, start a standard sweep of grids theta fourteen through twenty at once. When we leave this planet I want to make sure that we don't leave any dirt under the carpet!" the half-trill said as he shouldered his battle rifle and lead the way out of the cafe and back into the thick of things.

((OCC: And now, a celebration of our modern mythos. We hope you enjoy! -B))

"World's Finest, Part 1 - We All Fall Down"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

=The Cornfield=

The burning smell was the first thing she noticed, before she opened her eyes. They fluttered open and she squinted at the bright morning light, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. Sitting up, the young blond woman looked around her, and jumped up in surprise. All around her the earth was scorched and torn up. It looked like a meteor crater. Judging from the size, something no larger than 100 pounds falling at a rate of...

Earth's gravitic constant.

She frowned. What an odd thought to be having. Of course she was on Earth. Where else would she be? Clearly, this was a cornfield. What she couldn't figure out was what she was doing lying in the middle of it in a crater. She looked down at her clothing, which struck her as odd.

She wore a blue fleece sweater and a burgundy knee-high skirt. It was torn and in disrepair in any number of places, but her skin seemed fine beneath it. The outfit seemed out of place and time. Was it hers? She was wearing it, so it must be.

A mechanical sound interrupted her thoughts and she turned to look toward it. A pickup truck, burning fossil fuels, was moving quickly over the field toward her. It came to a stop not 2 meters away. An old woman jumped out of the driver seat and ran over to her. "Oh my god, Kara, are you all right?"

Kara. The name didn't feel right. "Who are you?"

"Why I'm... I'm Martha, dear. Don't you recognize me?"

She shook her head.

"You look so cold. Hold on."

The young woman watched her go back to the truck and pull something from underneath the canvas in it's bed. A large, red blanket. The woman came back over and threw it around Kara's shoulders. "I don't know what's wrong, dear, but don't worry, we'll figure it out. I can try to help you remember."

Sensing the woman's trepidation, she smiled weakly. "Thank you. I have no idea what I'm doing here." She looked over to a small bag lying on the ground near the crater. "Is that mine?" Walking over, Kara picked it up. She looked inside. It seemed strange that there was only one outfit inside, and stranger still that it was made up of some thin, yet sturdy material. It looked less like an outfit and more like a costume.

A strange symbol adorned the front of it. Very bright colors. An old memory stirred within her. She'd seen it before.

Martha walked over. "It's definitely yours." She pushed the clothing aside and took out a piece of paper. "Well, this explains a little. A plane ticket. It's been stamped. Round trip to Gotham, sweetheart."

"Gotham? Where am I now?"

"Kansas. Oh, my poor girl, you don't remember a thing. You must have fallen out of the plane. That explains this." She pointed at the crater, still smoking.

"I fell... out? I'm still alive. How is that even possible?" She was about 100 pounds. She was in the crater. But any such fall would have instantly killed her, and would not have created anything like this.

"Come with me, dear. The house is nearby. Then, maybe, we can help jog your memory. You'll be flying again before long."

"I don't think I trust planes any more."

Martha smiled. "Well, it's not like you need them anyway."

The girl's eyebrow arched. "Yes. It seems much more efficient to simply beam to Gotham."

"Beam, dear?"

"You know, teleport. And while we're on the subject, why are you using an oil-burning engine? That seems completely inefficient and even dangerous. Fuel has a tendency to explode, you know."

The old woman put her fists on her waist and shook her head. "I may be out of my league on this one."

* * *

=The Cave=

The air was was cold and damp when he woke; it felt old and heavy - as if, in this place, nature itself was burdened with frightening secrets.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that he was in some kind of cave. He knew, instinctively, that this was some kind of hidden place, carved into the very heart of the Earth for him. But then who was he....

"Master Bruce?"

Yes...Bruce. That was his name. Still he could not see who had spoken, and so he tried to sit up only to fall back down into bed, surprised by his own pain.

"That is what happens when you jump off high buildings, Sir. I should have thought you would have learned that by now." An aged man with a kind smile approached him, carrying a silver platter with food on it.

Breakfast. A servant then.... "A few broken ribs is all. Could have been much worse, Sir, much worse. I do so wish you would be a little more careful."

"Who...who are you?"

The man seemed taken aback by the question. Setting the tray aside, he walked up to Bruce. "Alfred, Master Bruce.... As you feeling quite all right?"

"And I am Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

"Yes, Sir," the look of concern on the man's face grew more severe with each passing moment, "Sir, perhaps...."

This was not going anywhere that the man who had just woken - who for some reason could not think of himself as Bruce - wanted it to go.

Instinct told him to avoid the appearance to weakness. He had learned that at a very young age...but not here.... "Do not worry, Alfred," he replied, managing a charming smile, "Just...a moment of disorientation."

"You're sure, Sir?"

"Absolutely. I just cannot remember why I jumped."

"Well...the same reason Batman always jumps, I imagine."

Bruce nodded slowly, "Ah...of course. The same reason as always."

Alfred smiled, "Come now, Master Bruce. I have some breakfast for you...never mind that it is four in the afternoon. And you had best get dressed, Sir. Bruce Wayne has company."

"Really?"

"Yes...Kara is here to see you, Sir."

"Good," the man nodded, appearing quite sure of himself, "Excellent. I have been expecting her." He fixed his dark eyes on the servant, watching carefully for his reaction, "She...has some business with Batman."

"I don't doubt that she does. Now breakfast...."

"Later. I have to see...Kara?"

Alfred sighed, "Very good, Sir." The old man paused, then smiled at him, "Why do we fall, Master Bruce?"

Bruce paused. Obviously, the servant was expecting some specific response...this might be some kind of code. Then he remembered....

"Why? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up again."

"Quite so, Master Bruce. Quite so."

"Life Goes On"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Executive Officer
with
Counselor V'Lot (NPC)

------------------
Counseling Offices
Deck 14
------------------

"Counselor."

The singular word was enough to bring the Vulcan woman to whom it was addressed out of her thoughts. She looked up towards the origin of the sound, the broken remnants of a small vase in her hands.

"Iniara." V'Lot smiled, setting the jagged pieces of ceramic onto her desk.

The normally pristine surface seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust or dirt. Probably all that's left of that vase, Iniara thought as her eyes drifted from the woman to the desk, and then back to the woman again.

"Please, come in. Have a seat."

"Thank you," Iniara replied quietly. She slid onto the office's sofa, carefully avoiding the half that wasn't still covered in the moist black earth from an overturned plant.

V'Lot righted her own chair, taking a moment to pick off several ceramic fragments that dotted the sand-colored seat. Gracefully lowering herself into the chair she brushed back her long auburn hair and straightened the jacket of her duty uniform. Despite the relative chaos of their surroundings, Iniara couldn't help but notice the Vulcan's movements were as deliberate and precise as ever.

"I did not expect to see you here today, Iniara."

Iniara crossed her arms across her chest, raising one eyebrow in deliberate imitation of the classic Vulcan gesture. "And why not? We meet at this time every week."

Now it was V'Lot's turn to raise an eyebrow, examining the Galaxy's XO with a bit of a critical eye. The expression that settled on her face was uncharacteristically serious for the normally friendly counselor. "That is true. Yet the most recent battle is less than twenty six hours behind us.

Due to this you are no doubt quite busy."

"Well, yeah..." Iniara shrugged. "Of course. But I've been coming to this office at this time once a week for the past six months. Why would I change the routine now?"

V'Lot allowed the rhetorical question to hang in the air for several seconds. Then, without warning she smiled broadly, her shoulders relaxing as her entire body language changed. "I am glad to hear that from you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The Iniara I met so many months ago, the Iniara who was so consumed by her fanatic desire to walk again, would never have left her duties during such a time as this in order to tend to her own well-being. Yet here you are, engaging in what six months ago you would have called 'a pointless waste of time'."

"Life goes on, Counselor. We go into battle, the ship gets torn up, people die, we repair, and then we go back and do it all over again. Can't forget about the mundane stuff we deal with every day on top of the regular 'save the universe again' stuff, because it's got to be dealt with one way or the other. It's routine, plain and simple. Life goes on," Iniara concluded, emphasizing the last three words.

V'Lot's expression changed again, a different sort of smile crossing her lips. It was the sort of smile that Iniara had come to know well, the one that said 'I know you're holding something back' and 'just wait, I'll figure out what it is'. The woman's facial expressions were easier to read than most humans Iniara had known; she found that an odd trait for a counselor to possess.

"I have the feeling it is more than that."

And there it is, Iniara mused to herself, resisting the urge to groan. "Of course it's more than that," she replied after a moment. "You're coercing me with drugs."

From a pocket in her uniform Iniara withdrew an empty hypospray ampule, leaning forward to set it on the edge of V'Lot's desk. "Every week I come here, we talk, and then I exchange the empty ampule for a full one." The transparent cylinder made a tiny clinking noise as it contacted the hard surface of the desk, rolling briefly until it came to rest against a nearby PADD. "And it looks like your desk is off-kilter."

"I would not describe our arrangement as such," V'Lot replied, ignoring the comment about her desk, "yet that might be one perspective on the situation.

Are the drugs still working well?"

"Yes, wonderfully. There's almost zero bleed-through of stray thoughts, I can touch people without absorbing everything at the top of their minds, and I'm no longer having to meditate for an hour before bed. It's keeping the nightmares and random flashes of memory at bay, too...which is really all I wanted. All that other stuff," here she waved a hand through the air, "is just a bonus."

"That is good to hear."

"Yeah, I know. So...drugs? Please?"

V'Lot did not reply.

"What?" Iniara suddenly snapped, concern clearly written across her features as she tried to decipher the hidden message in V'Lot's sudden silence. "What happened?"

V'Lot sighed. "I am sorry, but the ship's reserves of betasynine were contaminated during the battle, and the only machine which can synthesize the compound is badly damaged and nonfunctional."

"So that means..."

"No betasynine can be produced until the synthesizer is repaired. The necessary replacement parts are awaiting our arrival at Deep Space Five."

"Isn't there something else you can give me?"

"Regrettably, betasynine is the only inhibitor compound compatible with your unique physiology."

"Yeah, I remember that now." Iniara grimaced, recalling memories of the spectrum of bizarre side effects from all the other neural inhibitors she had tried. "Damn. So no drugs for me, huh."

"That is correct."

"No point in me being here, then, is there?"

"I am sorry, Iniara. I truly am."

"Not your fault, Counselor," Iniara replied, sighing deeply as she stood and turned towards the door. "Life goes on, I guess."

"World's Finest, Part 2 - All the King's Men"

Lhohnu t'Noramei
Aide to Ambassador tr'Ahalaen

= USS Galaxy =

When her home world had fallen, Lhohnu t'Noramei had known no fear.

Though she had spent most of the Battle for Romulus alone in a room by herself, useless aboard an alien ship which was engaged in combat, she had not been scared. The dark, craven hopelessness that had gripped so many of her people, had held no sway over the heart of this shy, timid young woman.

To say it out loud now sounded cliche - and, of course, Lhohnu would never have dared to tell anyone this anyway - but she had always known, always believed, that nothing would happen to her, that Romulus would be safe, that the universe would right itself once again.

She had known things would be so because she knew that Aerv tr'Ahalaen would not allow them to be otherwise. Beaten as a child, rejected and scorned by her people, Lhohnu t'Noramei did not believe in much - but she believed in Aerv tr'Ahalaen. It did not occur to her that he was just a man, that he did not write the fate of the Rihannsu - she did not think about these things. Her complete trust in one man, so obviously foolish to many, was not a matter of philosopy or logic; it was a matter of faith.

So her certainty in the goodness of a man shrouded in shadow went unquestioned by her gentle heart. She held on to him in the same way that mortals hang on to beliefs that let us live our lives: that the sun will rise tomorrow, that after winter there will be spring, that though there will be death, there will be life also....

In short, Lhohnu t'Noramei, who had never had much, had always had one constant in her life...and that was enough to keep her content, to keep her from fear and despair....

And then they told her he was gone.

"Gone? What do you mean he is gone?"

Vrih Himne, the other Rihannsu aide on the ship, gave her a kind smile.

It was more than she had expected of him. "tr'Ahalaen had gone to the surface, to visit his family, and apparently met with the a Starfleet Officer there. An Elissa Skylark. They got on a transporter pad to beam up and then...they just disappeared."

"Disappeared."

"Well...everyone disappears on a transporter pad. That is not what I mean," Vrih explained, "They were just - well, they were there, and then they were gone. They are checking the transporters for malfunctions...."

"They?"

"Everyone. Lhohnu, they say that the Empress has sent some of her best men to look into it and Starfleet is doing everything it can.... The transporters are fine. tr'Ahalaen is just...."

"Gone," Lhohnu whispered.

"Yes." Vrih replied with a sigh. Then he tried to give her a smile that struggled to be reassuring, "They will find them."

"Okay," Lhohnu said, stepping away from her colleague and retreating back into her room, "Okay then. Let me know if you hear anything."

"Sure. Listen, Lhohnu...you going to be all right?"

"No," the young woman said quietly, her remarkable eyes fixed firmly to the ground, "No. I...I'm afraid. Aerv tr'Ahalaen has fallen...."

= End Log =

"Barbarians at the Gates": Epilogue

Flt. Admiral Victor Murdock
Elaithin Jii
K. Jordan Elaithin
Commander Jaal Jaxom

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

Shuttlecraft McCain

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

The shuttle seemed preternaturally quiet.

After the day's blood and death and war, sitting in a Starfleet shuttlecraft to be ferried up to the flagship - which was, Elaithin Jii noted with some

pride, at present the starship Miranda - seemed almost surreal.

Almost.

He didn't know how long Murdock had known that he was on Romulus, but the Admiral had wasted no time sending for Elaithin after Romulan forces had taken official possession of the capitol. Jii and Jordan had turned their prisoner, Keller, and all the evidence they had of the Tal Shi'ar plot over to Kerec, who it seemed was going to have one hell of a career with Romulan Naval Intelligence now.

Copies, of course, had been kept for Jii to turn over to Starfleet.

Protocol said that he should have kept Keller in Starfleet custody..

but seeing as Jii wasn't technically Starfleet right now, he felt no guilt in not obeying that particular rule. And the Romulans would give Keller the fate he deserved far more than Starfleet would.

Quietly, his hand found Jordan's as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for just a moment.

She felt her husband's warmth as their fingers interlaced and she opened her eyes, turning her head to look toward him; she'd spent the ride thus far with her focus directed toward the window, as far from the inside of the cabin space as possible. But though she stared out toward space, she saw little beyond her eyelids, and had decided to simply close them and drift in silent internal abyss for a few moments before hell broke lose.

It followed that she had to return to Miranda eventually; she had to see all she had left behind, all those that had moved on after she did so. It followed that, eventually, the chaos of the past three weeks would dissolve itself and she would return either to the White Space or to the ruins of her old life she now had to recreate, rebuild.

Logically, it made sense.

That didn't mean she was looking forward to it.

She had been dead for just over eight months now, in many of their minds, though her Return happened some six or seven weeks earlier.

Jordan squeezed Jii's hand tighter than she intended to, feeling the tightness in her throat and in her chest.

"I don't want to do this," she whispered, softly, her dark hazel eyes heavy with threatening tears. "It's too big, I don't know how to do this."

She wanted nothing more than to crawl into his embrace and stay there for eternity, never moving, never separating herself from him.

She wanted nothing more than to go directly to Bajor. Have her parents bring the twins to them. To never leave.To stay on safe, easy, stable, solid ground. But somewhere deep knew that wasn't possible.

"It's all right, baby." he said quietly. "We're going back - we're going home, to the Miranda."

"Is it still home?" she asked. "Or is it something else?" Her face creased in thought as she looked back out the window as the ship began to come into view, the shuttlecraft easing closer. The part of her that knew these things understood how mindblowingly fast they were moving there in the vacuum of space, but in perspective, it seemed to be so slow, so careful. "Is it home even if you don't live there?"

Jii's breath froze slightly in his chest as he caught sight of his ..

former... ship. "Yes." he whispered. "Even if you never go back but to visit."

There was a bit of nervousness in his chest, now. He didn't know what Murdock wanted of him... and at this point, he somewhat doubted it was going to be good. There was no telling what his and Jordan's future held, other than a return to Earth, and their children, and then back to Bajor. If they could sort out the bounty hunter problem, of course.

Of course.. such thoughts were moot, now, depending on what Murdock wanted.

There was a slight thud as the shuttle touched down to the deck. The rear hatch opened and, Jordan in hand, Jii set foot on the flight deck of the Starship Miranda for the first time in eight months.

It was like stepping foot in heaven.

The smell of the deck, the metallic tang to the air, the feeling of business as techs rushed to and fro working on fighters and shuttles and the loading of unloading of cargo shuttles. The dirty uniforms of the ratings working the deck, the yells across the bay..

All of it. It was *Starfleet*

It was home.

He had precious little time to enjoy it, however, as Jaal Jaxom's fist connected with his jaw, sending the tall Bajoran tumbling to the deck.

Jii winced at the pain and rubbed at his jaw as he looked up, meeting eyes with his former first officer. "Good to see you too, Jaal."

Jaxom extended a hand to help Elaithin up. "You had that coming, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Jii replied, taking the offered hand to help lift himself back up. "You hit like a boxer."

"I'll take that as a compliment." the Trill snorted, and then looked to where Jordan had been watching the entire display - first with astonishment, and then with bemusement. "Jordan." he acknowledged, moving forward to embrace her. "I'm glad you're alive, even if I don't understand it."

She returned the hug with a wan smile. "I don't think I do either, Jaal. But it's good to see you."

She returned to Elaithin's side, and just for a moment, Jaal thought how out of place the both of them looked, out of uniform. "All right then, come with me. The Old Man wants to see you."

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

Deck Sixteen - Officer's Quarters

"Don't worry, hon, I'll be back."

Jordan blinked and looked up, then over toward her husband. They were standing in front of a pair of doors now -- officer's quarters read the plaque. He had his hand over hers as it was wrapped tightly around his arm, and his expression was a concerned mix of emotions.

She looked to her other side and the security junior lieutenant who she vaguely recognized, though from when and where she couldn't say:

it could easily have been from when she saw him five minutes ago is it could be from her previous existence on this ship.

"It won't take long." Jii assured her, though he had an unpleasant look on his face. Still, he understood the precautions - Murdock was the CinC now, and Jordan was a bit of an enigma. Jaal, standing next to him, looked uncomfortable at the idea as well. "I'll be back. Just stay here."

He carefully, physically unwrapped her fingers from around his forearm before he touched her shoulders, kissed her forehead and then turned down the corridor.

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

Deck Sixteen
Flag Officer's Ready Room
Adjacent to CIC

"Not coming?" Jii raised an eyebrow as Jaal stopped outside of the door.

"Nope." the Trill shook his head. "You get to go to the principal's office all by yourself."

Jii just snorted, and hit the door chime.

The door opened unceremoniously, and Murdock's scots-accented voice wafted through. "C'mon in, lad. We've got some things to talk about."

"I'll bet we do." Jii replied as the doors closed behind him. The office was a mirror image of the one sixteen decks up, though he noted, a little bit larger. Taking the seat opposite the desk the Admiral was sitting at, both men stared silently across the table for a moment. Murdock spoke first.

"I get why ye left, lad. I felt the same when I lost Jamie, and the Cheyenne." the Admiral started, referencing events almost twenty years past. "But I threw m'self into my work instead, and this ship is the result o' that. But I do understand it."

"But?"

"But ye let yuir crew down, son. Ye acted like ye were the only one who lost someone when Jordan died. They lost her, too - and then ye took their Captain away. That was a mistake."

"I agree." Jii said honestly. "It wasn't the right way to go about things. But I wasn't in my right mind at that moment, either. Not after all the insanity on the ship, everything that happened on the Indefatigable.. it wasn't pretty, Victor. None of it was, and I made the only choice I was capable of making at the time. And, on the other hand, leaving.. did let me get Jordan back."

"Aye, and I'd dearly love to hear THAT explanation, lad."

Jii let out a small laugh. "It was the Prophets, Victor. I went high and low, all over the quadrant - "

"Yes, I know." Murdock acknowledged. Jii wasn't aware, but Murdock had expended considerable effort keeping Jii from getting arrested by Temporal Investigations over much of his journey.

"And all along, the answer was at home. I had an Orb experience, with the Orb of Destiny, at one of the Monastaries where the Orbs are kept." Jii continued. "I.. saw the Prophets. I know it sounds crazy, but they gave me a choice. I made it, and Jordan was given back to me."

"I'd think ye WERE crazy, if I didn't know Ben Sisko." Murdock replied, shaking his head. "And if that's what happened, I'm thinkin maybe ye should be havin a few conversations with him."

"Maybe so." Jii nodded.

"I want her checked out." Murdock said flatly. "I'm not doubtin ye, lad, but this is awfully convienient. Miranda's medical and psych people are goin' ta go over her with a fine tooth-comb before I'll let her back to active duty."

"No disrespect, Victor, but you don't give us orders anymore." Jii replied. "I quit Starfleet. Resigned my commission. And Jordan.. well, she was dead. I think that breaks her service agreement."

"I must've lost the paperwork." the Scotsman replied, his eyes glinting a moment before turning serious again. "Ye owe me, lad. Both of ye. Either ye go back tae work, or.." the Admiral trailed.

"Or what, exactly?" Elaithin asked flatly.

"Or I send ye to Garos II. I'd hate to throw ye in a penal colony, but that's yuir only other choice. Ye've been off the reservation for awhile now. And ye haven't exactly been behavin yuirself. Ye did good work, down on Romulus with this Keller situation. Turning him over to RNI was even a smart play. But I can't have people of yuir caliber running around and mucking things up all over the quadrant. So it's the uniform, or Garos. Yuir choice, son."

"You wouldn't dare, Old Man. "

"I dare ye to bet me."

"No." Jii replied passionately. "I can't go back to that life, Victor.

I want it - Prophets know, I want it, but they'll never accept me again."

"There's always prison, lad." Murdock replied, just as fast.

"You're a bastard."

"Aye. No denyin' that."

"Aye."

Elaithin slumped back down into the chair, and looked at the Admiral quizzically. "You'd really throw me in prison if I don't put the uniform back on?"

"In a heartbeat, an' without a second thought." Murdock replied with certainty. "I'm an engineer by nature, lad. Ye don't throw a good part away just because it's had some problems. Ye fix it, and ye put it back to doing what it's made for. And ye're of a lot more use to me in that chair than in a cell. What happened here at Romulus wasn't the end of this thing with the Triad, son. Not by a longshot."

"And yet little green friend gets to stay off the reservation?"

"Who says she's off the reservation? Race's just got a wide degree of latitude takin' care of a special problem of mine. She'll be home in no time." the Scotsman shrugged, and continued. "And myself aside, it'd be real easy for ye to go ridin' off into the sunset. Figure out whatever it is that ye haven't told me about yuir wife bein back from the dead - dinna look at me like that lad, I'm not stupid - and not deal with all the problems you created leavin the way ye did. So forget me. Ye owe it to every last one of them to pay yuir penance.

And ye owe to Summers. The man took yuir place, and he died for it.

Don't make those people loose a second Captain in the space of a year."

Jii had no reply to that, but he hadn't said yes, just yet. "I need to talk to my wife."

"I'll give ye two hours." Murdock said. "But that's all, lad. And then I need an answer."

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

Deck Sixteen - Officer's Quarters

"Mrs. Elaithin," the junior lieutenant said, physically asserting his presence by thumbing the keypad. The door slid open with his touch.

"If you would please enter, you have been restricted to quarters pending medical investigation."

"I'm sorry?" she murmured, looking to him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but we're not in the habit of permitting the dead free reign on our ships if we can help it. Please, ma'am..."

She silently obliged, half on autopilot, stepping through the threshold and looking around the dimly lit quarters. The doors slid closed behind her and the electronic locking mechanism set into place.

They could only be opened by security now, or the proper authorization code. She was a prisoner, though she didn't blame them in the least. And, she supposed she should be thankful; they weren't being cruel about it, though that was likely because of who her husband was and the pull they had with Murdock.

The fog had set in the moment the shuttlecraft piloted through, into the bay. There was no place like home, she supposed-- the familiarity of the ship was almost paralyzing. Jordan found herself lost in a sea of memories as her husband coaxed her from the shuttle. She could barely even see past all the ghosts of her long dead past, all flying toward her, into her at a dizzying and overwhelming rate of speed.

She blinked. She was sitting in a chair now, a glass of water in her hand as she stared out the window toward the void of space, the drifting debris, the other vessels. How much time passed, she couldn't say. She wondered how many dead were out there, on both side, their bodies frozen in the black wasteland. The Federation would collect its dead, those whose bodies weren't obliterated by the explosions of their vessels. But what would happen to the physical forms of their enemies? She'd never before thought to ask.

"What?" she asked, speaking aloud, turning her head toward the room.

Jordan stood slowly, carefully setting the glass of water on the edge of the table as she moved on through the living area, into the bedroom portion. The smaller room looked like the bedroom for any pair of married officers on a ship of the line-- quite a bit smaller than the Captain's quarters but still generous enough to accommodate two people.

This room was dark-- pitch black save for the faint ambient light drifting through the window and for a small spec of glowing blue.

"It's the Eye," she stated, slowly approaching the blue light before finding her face there-- a mirror, her reflection. The amulet around her neck was bright. She touched it, first in the mirror and then in reality, feeling it under her fingertips, and pressed against her chest. She turned away from the mirror, leaning back against it.

"Jordan, you have to rest now." A pause. "What does that mean...?"

Suddenly, it was a though the room turned into a vacuum. The energy of the space pulled inward toward the glowing Eye of an amulet resting around the woman's neck. It held there a fraction of a half of a second, wrapping around her body before it burst out, cascading through the quarters and out into the corridor. The massive surge of energy pushed out, blowing conduits and bursting lights, leaving behind it darkness, smoke, and the smell of burning bioneural gel for almost a hundred yards up and down the deck.

The body collapsed to the floor, unseeing human eyes closed, though from around her neck, the blue light burned in a wait that would not be long.

"Jordan!" Jii cried out, coming in just as the lights had gone, and catching only the tail end of the display.

Not now - not again!, his mind cried out as he rushed to his fallen wife, checker her vitals. Thank the Prophets, she was breathing.

She was still, deathly still for a long moment before her hand suddenly snapped up, grabbing his wrist, and her eyes opened, catching his.

"Don't worry, Jii, she's peaceful." The voice was barely her own, more a breezy whisper that carried only the hint of his wife's language. Blue had brushed over the irises of her eyes and the room seemed to freeze, almost as though time stopped, or perhaps had simply slowed to a nearly immeasurable level. All was kissed with the glint of the jewel around her neck, glowing with a swirling light: it was the first moment Jii had ever really seen it, and looking directly there, it was as though the jewel contained the energies of the Prophet's gateway, or the Orb of Prophecy and Change. Her other hand settled upon his Pagh. "But you are not."

The light wrapped around him then, and he tried, instinctively, to pull away but to no avail. He was momentarily blinded by its brightness, and when his sight returned, he and Jordan stood facing each other in the White Space. She looked different, was dressed in long flowing robes of ancient Bajoran vedeks.

For the first time, then, Elaithin Jii began to understand what the price of his wife's return had been. The connection he felt, looking at her now, was not to Jordan, his wife...

But to the Prophets themselves.

Oracle, her old Intel handle... was no longer just a name. She was now an Oracle in fact, an oracle of the Prophets of Bajor, those who inhabited the Celestial Temple. Speaking like this, Jordan no longer spoke with her own voice.

She spoke with Thiers.

And these days.. when the Prophets spoke, Elaithin Jii was the kind of man who listened.

"You must agree to the terms to be set forth," she spoke, her voice the same soft duality as before. "It is True Home at the feet of the Celestial Temple that shall remain the place of rest... but it is the ship beyond, in this space, that shall be the place of life and purpose. Here is where the Knight belongs. Here is where he shall stay."

"Here, on the Miranda?" he asked, puzzled. "But why *here*? Why *me*?"

"The Repair of a broken thing cannot make it the same it was before.

Prices are paid and values shifted. To you a warning was offered, and the price was agreed. Here is Oracle. Myth. Protector. Avenger.

Voice and Compass. To keep the Knight on course. Do not deny who you are. Doing so denies the existence of destiny. Instead, embrace that which you are offered. All has its purpose."

"And this is mine." Jii acknowledged, noting that his clothing had changed, here in the White Space. He was in uniform again, the four pips of a Starfleet Captain heavy on his collar, the commbadge, with it's emblem of Starfleet shining brightly on his chest. "This is the path, then?"

"The Eye of the Oracle sees what needs to be seen. When Oracle speaks, listen. The path will be shown to you. But you must be prepared and it must be remembered: that which is given can be taken and returned. Life from dust, light from light."

The flash happened again, and he was back in his quarters, holding Jordan. They were as pristine as they'd been earlier, and Jordan was foggily coming awake.

The only difference was, his uniform remained. Tangible proof of what had occurred.

"What..?" Jordan started, and Jii shushed her quietly.

"Just another choice." he whispered quietly, and put her to bed.

Certain she was asleep, he went to the other room, and then tapped his commbadge for a connection to Murdock, comforted by the reassuring weight of it on his chest.

It felt good to be back in uniform.

Damned good.

"Alright, Old Man. You want me, you've got me." he said simply.

["Knew ye'd see it my way, son."] Murdock crackled back over the comm, mirth in his voice.

"It won't be easy, you know."

["When it's worth it, it never is."] the Admiral said solemnly, and then issued Jii his first order. ["Now get up to the bridge o' yuir ship and take command, son. And take this ship back to Earth.

Darren'll keep an eye on things here, but we're taking the bulk of the fleet out of Romulan territory 'fore they start gettin' twitchy."

"Roger that. Elaithin out." he replied, and closed the comm.

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

Deck One, Bridge
USS Miranda

No one noticed him coming onto the bridge, at first. His booted feet thudded on the carpeted decking, until he stopped at the tactical rating, taking a look around. Repair crews were deep into their work on the bridge, as were the rest of the standard crew.

Lieutenant t'Khianalmae, back in Starfleet uniform, did a double-take when she realized who was standing text to her - and she saw the pips first. "Captain on Deck!" she shouted by reflex.

"As you were." Elaithin replied, seeing the stares of the various officers and crew. Unsuprisingly, many wore open expressions of shock

- all save for Jaal, and that kid from Intel - what was his name, McKeon? Jii suspected most of them had never even known he'd come aboard. He spoke loud enough for all to hear - not hard, considering the drop-dead silence that was on the bridge right now. "Commander Harris," he began as he walked down the port ramp, towards the center of the bridge. "All hands, if you please."

"Aye, sir." Dakota immediately replied, with a wide smile. The bosun's whistle traveled through the Miranda's corridors, and all across the ship, crewman stopped for the announcement.

"This is Captain Elaithin Jii," he began, and had to admit, he took comfort in using the right rank again. "Per the directives of Admiral Murdock, I officially resume command of this vessel as of 13:42 hours, on this Stardate. 'Commander Harris, please note the change of command in the ship's log."

"Aye, s.. Captain."

"All of you should be proud here, of what this ship accomplished these last weeks. We've won the trust of the Romulans, even if all of their government doesn't think the same. More than that - you did what was right, and you did it fearlessly, and tirelessly. Alongside the rest of this fleet, this crew has proved themselves mighty. I've always known it, but now all of you have proved it, and I am honored to be your Captain once more."

"We paid a heavy price for this victory, in blood, sweat, and tears. I only met Captain Summers once, but it was a meeting I always remembered. For those of you who served under him, the loss, I imagine, is even harder to bear. As are the losses of everyone who gave their lives for this planet. So we remember then, what we fight for. It's not for treaties, or for the Federation, or anything else.

At the end of the day, we're fighting for each other. For the men and women serving next to each other, and for our friends and family members aboard this ship. For I time, I forgot part of that. I promise you all, now, that I won't ever forget it again." He gave the cut signal to Harris, and then met eyes with Jaal.

A lot passed between the two men in that glance, and they both nodded, and took their seats.

Captain Elaithin leaned forward in the Captain's Chair, and adressed the man at the newly-replaced helm. "Set a course for Earth, Mr.

Ramirez. Take us home."

Get Your Hands Dirty (Conclusion)

Featuring Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic
And various NPC's who will die the old "Red Shirt" death :-p

Part III

USS Miranda

Somewhere near Engineering...

[Who will save those who save us?]

Unknown Author...

One of the worst things that a team of Medics has to worry about is having to treat their own partners. Crewman Arelis Moreno was no exception to this rule. Although she actually thought that she would be the one to have gotten hurt with the multiple impacts the ship suffered, Max was unlucky enough to be the one closer to the outer bulkhead when part of the ceiling collapsed and knocked him to the ground, pinning him. Arelis was quick enough to report to Damage Control their situation and request help from Sickbay. both had their hands full, although Damage control would see about getting some of the walking wounded who were not immediately needed in thier departments. She held "Max" Maxwell's hand as he gasped for air, the heavy bulkhead laying on top of him. She noticed that Max had regained consciousness.

"Hey, boss," she said, trying to smile, "does this mean we work overtime to cover your ass?"

Max smiled. Over the past hour of running around and treating/rescuing/pronouncing had allowed the two Medics to become comfortable around each other and the banter now was automatic.

His face betraying his attempt to hide how much pain he was in, Max still managed to give Arelis back some of the sarcasm that was now commonplace between them.

"Not only that, but you have to do my laundry, too."

"Sorry I don't do underwear, sir," said Arelis wryly.

"Who says I wear Underwear," Max got out as he winked, which wound up looking like the grimace of someone who ate spoiled Hasperat (with extra spice).

Arelis smiled again, and caressed Max's forehead, wiping the sweat off of it in the process.

"I'm not going to lie, Max. You've got some internal bleeding. The ship's internal transporters are not available right now, and I don't know how I'm going to get this shit off of you."

"What about Ayers and that kid," asked Max Arelis thinned her lips and gave up the news.

"Well, that really fucking sucks. Ayers was an asshole, but was still a body that could do the job at least at some basic minimum. I really feel sorry for the kid...he was too young to die, I think."

Ayers and his partner were riding a turbolift in the forward section of the primary hull, when one of the weapons impacts knocked out power to the 'lift...and it fell with them inside to the bottom of the shaft, killing them instantly. They never had a chance.

Max was really wanting for something to at least dull the pain now starting to build in his torso. he knew one of his lungs were collapsed. He didn't think he was bleeding as he wasn't coughing up blood. What he didn't know was that Arelis Moreno thought quick enough to decompress his chest, thereby allowing the pressure from the air building up in his chest to be relieved.

[Just like when I was in that fucking accident,] thought Max. His trip back to New York almost cost him his legs. But he survived thanks to great Medics who responded fast enough and has 90% use of his legs. The rest of the load is made up by the implants that serve as a back-up whenever his muscles spasm or his nerves are slow to transmit the "orders" to his legs. The implants have neurotransmitters synthesized from his own body, thereby allowing them to have practically an infinite supply and not requiring frequent maintenance. An annual physical usually suffices to pinpoint any trouble spots.

Max tried to turn his head but was met with only pain in his neck, his body tensing in response. He evaluated his own situation: Legs - working; arms - working but it felt like the left arm was at some kind of odd angle, neck - the pain again, only this time worse...definitely some kind of injury to the muscles in his neck, maybe a tear.

"Did we lose our med kits," inquired Max.

"Your's is pinned under you, so I can't get to it, but I think I sill have some Injectable Poly-Profen here."

Arelis searched her bag (depleted from the numberous people they have

treated) and found two ampules of the painkiller. She loaded one into the hypospray and injected Max with it. He winced from the burning

sensation that went with the non steroidal concoction. But started

feeling a bit better as far as general pain went.

Finished with the medication administration, Arelis reeavluated Max with the med tricorder. The decompression was working fine, Max was receiving as much oxygen as possible from breathing normally, but just to be safe, she placed a hypoinfuser on his arm, which delivered Tri-Ox directly into his Arteries, improving his oxygenation. He didn't look as grey as he did before. They have been in that corridor for approimately 15-20 minutes. The ship's rumblings had become less frequent. Arelis wondered if they left the fight....or if maybe the fight was finally over.

She focused on Max's visage. He was rugged looking but had kind eyes, which didn't seem to undress her, but rather appraise her taking in her total worth. She too had thoughts about Max, somehow he appealed to her. She knew that as an NCO he was not exactly supposed to date subordinates, but she really didn't care. She wanted him more and more, which increased her anxiety about someone coming by to help, to save him. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to tell him, to let him know how she was feeling. But the adult that she had become reigned in those thoughts, reminding her that she was here to do a job, and her boss lying on the deck with part of the bulkhead pinning him might not really appreciate the moment.

[Oh, fuck him if he can't take a joke,] she thought.

"Max, I need to tell you something."

Max felt a slight bit of apprehension for he knew what was coming, he could see it in Arelis' almond eyes, the glint that was now present.

He opened his mouth to tell her to stow it, that he didn't need this right now. His pain [the emotional pain] started to rush in threatened to overwhelm him, but she simply bent down quickly and kissed him softly on the lips, caressing his face.

If one could truly feel what it's like to have a fire put out by cool soothing water, it may very well be what Max felt at that moment. His sudden anger was extinguished as quickly as it had come on in response to Arelis' obvious attraction to him. There was only one thing he could do. Bearing the pain, he inclined his head and returned the sweet kiss, letting himself go and happily caressing her tongue as she slowly probed his lips, then the inside of his mouth with hers.

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

Approximately 15 minutes later...

Several crewmen and a few officers were almost done lifting the piece of bulkhead off of Max, allowing him to breathe much easier, his chest no longer bearing so much weight from above. He was expressionless, his professional mask in full effect. Before the "rescue party" found them, He had to talk to Arelis about what was obviously going on, and how they should proceed.

"But I really can't hide how and what I'm feeling for you," pleaded Arelis.

"I'm not asking you to," was Max's response. "I just want us to be friends first and foremost. I need to get beyond just my feelings and actually know that this is right. I'm not saying we can't spend time together...just that it should really be qulity time. You know..."

Max thought about the right words to put in here. "Find out what things we like to do together, learn to read each other. Be able to remain professional about things...like this little situation right now," indicating the piece of heavy steel that was still pinning him.

"I guess we can try it that way, get to really know each other better." Max did not miss the flash of mischief in the young woman's eyes...nor did he even try to dismiss the very obvious intent of that mischievious look. He simply smiled a warm broad smile to his companion and nodded as best he could.

"Ok, then Arelis. Dinner, when I get out of Sickbay, will probably be at my place?"

"I hope you like barbecue?"

"Like it? You can't keep me away with a Marine Battalion and a Borg quad. Now, where's that Damage Control team?"

Now with the rescue effected and the crewman maneuvering him onto an antigrav gurney, Arelis tapped her combadge and requested use of intra-ship transporter to move Max to one of the alternate Sickbays.

While she stood by for response, one of the crewman was filling them in on what was going on, about how the Lyrans came in like the calvary, how they self sacrificed themselves to destroy the Starbeast, and how the Hydrans, and T'Kith'Kin ran with their tails between their legs.

"The Breen bugged out before anyone could really catch up to them,"

regaled Crewman Saul Lindhman, an Engineering Technician who helped get him on the gurney. "We won, man! We won!"

Max's wisdom told him that this particular battle was won, but that it wasn't over between the Alliance and the Triad. He only smiled at the crewman and imparted some words he thought right for the moment.

"Fuck, yeah."

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

MedLab 2 (alternate sickbay for overflow/critical step down casualties)

Max was able to move his neck a bit more, the muscular tear on the right side of his neck healed for the most part, but he would have to be on bed rest for most of his internal injuries to finish healing.

He turned to see Dr. D'Bari frowning over him as he laid on the Bio-Bed.

"I knew this was going to happen. I really should just keep you in Sickbay and let that be the end of it.," Dr. Anjoli D'Bari scolded.

"Doc," started Max but the good doctor wasn't done with him.

"I mean really. who's going to train the new Medic Response Team?

Who's going to manage the Medics in training we have here if the next time you don't get so lucky?"

Max just realized what Dr. D'Bari was formally making clear.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to make sure that I live long enough for that, then."

"Well, we'll talk about this more later. For now, you'll be release in a few hours to your quarters where you are to convelesce. I believe Crewman Moreno would be albe to look after you during her off hours?"

Max eyes widened in momentary surprised but said nothing. Instead, he smiled. Dr. D'Bari has always seemed to have that very perceptive aura about herself.

"I have to get back to Main Sickbay, but I'll check in on you later, Max."

"Sure thing, Doc." Max didn't see the nurse approach him from the opposite side, so he couldn't do much about the mild sedative that was now being hyposprayed into his shoulder.

[Guess I should take a nap for a few,] he thought. He slept for another 6 hours, and awoke to see Arelis Moreno waiting for him.

"Ready to go home, Max," she asked.

"Only if you're coming," he said through his smile.

Arelis cocked her head slightly to the left and touched Max's left cheek, following the bone to the side of his head. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Wash Over"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell
Saia (APC)

*****USS Galaxy*****

Nara was finally able to make her way to get Saia. She made no time to go change or clean up or even go to sickbay to patch up a few cuts and burns.

They were minor.

The children were in a cargo bay waiting to be picked up. Sad reality was some of them would be dropped off at the Space Station. They were orphans now.

Saia would symphasize, but she already had a caretaker. Even if the relationship between the two was anything but nurturing.

Nara didn't get a kid jumping into her arms like the other adults. She spotted Saia in the corner of the room, sulking. Nara talked absently with a counselor. It was all rote and Nara didn't care to hear it. She just wanted to get Saia and go home. Mid-sentence, she nodded and said, "Thank you," and made her way to Saia.

Saia gathered her school bag silently and walked out toward the door.

Nara watched and followed. In the corridor, Nara tried to coax her, "Saia...Are you ok?"

"Why would you care?"

"I do. Simple as that."

The rest of the walk was silent. Once in the door of their quarters, Saia went straight to her room, closing the door. Nara stood at the entrance after it closed and saw or heard no sign of Branwen. She sighed seeing some slight damage to the quarters that would be dealt with later. Her posture slumped. The mask and adrenaline began to fade as she let herself sink to her knees, not bothering to try making it to the couch. She wasn't that weak physically, but she was exhausted in other ways. She leaned against the wall as things flooded her mind. Things she had to put away as she worked.

Worrying about Saia. About Saul. About Branwen.

Wondering what became of Ella and Dhani. The pressure of being in charge.

Life and death decisions. Seeing her shipmates die and wondering if she could had prevented it.

Her sooty hands went up to her already smeared face as she brought her knees up, hugging them with the other hand.

"Will you cry?"

Nara's tragic reverie was interrupted by Saia's voice. It wasn't consoling, yet not completely cold. It sounded purely curious. Nara looked over and shrugged, "I have plenty to cry over." Another five minutes of letting the thoughts consume her, and she would be crying.

Saia just walked over and sat crosslegged, leaning against the coffee-table leg, watching Nara.

After a few moments, Nara smirked tiredly, "But I likely won't with you watching me."

"I'd like to see it." Saia took on a very serene persona. It would make one wonder if she spent too much time with counselors, namely Miramon.

"Have you gone sadistic?"

Saia shrugged, "Are we allowed to cry?"

Nara just nodded. "Sorry I made you think it's not." After a moment of the two looking at each other, Nara continued, "I have a lot of things to be sorry for, Saia. I've failed you. I promise to try better."

Saia looked at her as if she didn't believe her.

"You'll see. Now can I PLEASE have a hug? I've been worried sick over you."

Nara didn't dare say in the back of her mind. Saia would understand later the point of putting emotions on back burner while on duty. For now, Nara needed her to simply know she loved her enough to worry.

Saia sighed and dropped the defiant face. She needed a hug too.

Nara ended up sobbing as she clung to Saia, whispering, "So sorry."

Saia opened her mouth to say something about being smothered, but she decided Nara needed this.

"What happens on Romulus, stays on Romulus"

Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG, USS Galaxy
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas, Marine SFMC, USS Galaxy

Location: Romulus before transport to USS Galaxy

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

"What?"

"I saw you two talking while down on the planet. You didn't do anything stupid, like hurt her, did you?" he asked calmly.

"You mean after the fight? I didn't do anything to your 'girlfriend'

Steven." Faylin knew the next comment was going to sting, piss him off, and what ever negative emotion it would stir in him. "We compared notes on our experiences, and came to the same conclusion. You lack some very basic skills."

Her hands crossed her chest as her right hip slid out a little.

Steven closed his eyes, trying to take it all in. Shaking his head, he replied, "You know you have some serious problems right? You aren't right, up here." He tapped his forehead.

"I don't have problems Steven. I make problems. Want one?" Her left eye's bruising from the fight with Kala had made her look overly pale, however, the biting comment placed a crimson color in her cheeks.

Steven's blood was beginning to boil, fueled by a growing feeling that she was just using him. "GROW UP FAYLIN! You are such an arrogant, selfish bitch. Why don't you just get a life!" He wasn't about to stop now. "Oh wait, you don't have one. You just sleep with guys and then discard them like cheap pieces of crap. It makes me sick!"

He was close, the anger she saw rising in him was turning on his gentle nature. She was surprised actually. "Find your balls on the battlefield I take it?"

"Obviously not as much as you have!" He retorted.

The slight sly smile that she expressed coiled up like a snake ready to strike. Her eyes exhibited the laziness of superiority in them.

Faylin stretched her neck muscles, battling took the best out of her, leaving the garbage of bitterness. Reaching out, she grabbed him in the crotch. "Why yes, they did grow a bit." Bringing her hand back, she turned. "I think we're done. You don't...do it for me anymore.

I'm bored."

"Bored... you're bored. I'm the one who's getting the shaft here.

It's a bit hard not to, when the other person doesn't even seem to try in the relationship. I haven't seen you show any *real* passion in the last two weeks. Heck, I've seen more passion between two Andorian Mud Rats than you've shown to me. Why don't you just go back to whoever it is that you really want to be with, cause as far as I can tell, it isn't me you want to be with!"

"Your right about that Steven, however, he already has a girlfriend.

Besides, last time I checked, we weren't in an exclusive relationship.

Kala won in that regards.......why don't you go make friendly with her Steven? You haven't cheated on her with me yet."

"Grow up Faylin. You're like a jealous school girl. Get a life woman!"

"Or." Faylin held up her index finger. "I could always go and see what interested you in her. We hit it off rather well while fighting Hydrans. She is a hot little number Steven."

"Go ahead. Have fun. I don't care anymore." Steven replied, even though the thought of seeing them together turned him on. "You know, you have so many secrets and hidden agendas that I'm glad that you don't want to be with me. It will make my life easier knowing that I don't have to worry about all these stupid mood swings and talking to yourself... Yes, I saw you talking to the emptiness of the air while you were with Kala."

"I was not talking to 'air' Steven." Was all she offered.

"I love you. But I can't live with all this crap you keep lumping on me. You said it was going to be a mission to peg you down for a relationship. What you didn't say, was that you weren't even gonna try. If you'd said that at the beginning, I would have stayed away.

I would have left you to your pitiful existence, alone, with no one to love you or care for you. Heck even Olivia left you!" Steven stopped. He had gone too far with that last comment. "I'm sorry Faylin. I didn't mean to say that."

McAlister just stood there, dumbfounded. Her face froze, except for her lips that were quivering with unadulterated rage. Normally, tears would flow freely from her eyes, yet, they remained dry. She was still technically security, her phaser at her side. Glancing down, she noticed it really for the first time, and the power it wielded.

Glancing back up, her eyes remained dry, her face stoic as he noticed where she was glancing to. The voice that was usually Faylin's was replaced by a voice much darker. "Get away from me.....now."

"I'm sorry, Fay. I didn't ..."

"I said leave!" She paused coming closer to him. "And don't you dare ever come around me again."

Eyes downcast, Steven walked to the door of the awaiting shuttle. He turned back for a moment, "I'm sorry. Goodbye Fay." Steven Jonas walked around her and out of her life.

She watched him go as the anger at his comment started to snuff out any feeling she had for him. Clearing her throat, she turned her focus on locating the correct shuttle that she needed to head back to the Galaxy.

"It's the Little Things"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
The Devil
Death

"Actions are the seed of fate deeds grow into destiny." Harry Truman

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

The sweet release of death had come, filling the elements to a full potential that made them sigh with ultimate contentment. However, something was amiss in all this truthful peace. He watched her as she sat, her overly evil nature she wore like a second skin. A skin, that she wanted to shed in a most desperate manner.

"What do I have to do?"

"For?" The Devil responded in jest.

"For my soul back! I don't like being this dark."

He simply smirked. "Well, you chose it, didn't you? Everything comes at a price. You want your soul back, you have to pay me for it."

"With what? Money? I don't have much."

The Devil snorted in laughter, this was not lost on Faylin, who somewhat recoiled at being made fun of. "No....."

"What then?" Her anger started to rise, so easy to now these days.

She did not know who she was.

"Oh, something sweet." Death shot him a look of hunger yet again.

Rolling his eyes, he spoke to his companion. "Are you ever full?"

"No." Came the curt reply.

Turning his focus back on Faylin, he stood, bringing his cloak out around him, shrouding his face and body in total darkness. His demeanor changed, the only scent that filled the air was one of evil.

Pure and simple. She rose of the couch, not matching his level of darkness or height. She walked over, keeping her hands at her side, with determination on her face.

"I want my soul back."

"Pay me."

"With what????"

"Pay me." The response darkened.

"With what?" Faylin paused. "What? I have nothing anymore. You took away Olivia, you took away my joy, my Steven...everything is gone you pathetic excuse for a Devil." Instantly, she regretted stating that as the room went pitch dark.

The shroud dropped to the floor, disappearing into a pile as the he identified himself to her truly. A black mist crawled across the floor, forcing Faylin to look down with curiosity. However, the flashing heat from the being now in front of her cause her to retch backwards in fear. Bringing her hand up to shield her face from the intense heat, McAlister could not look at him.

"Pay me........." His eyes black, the form of his body engulfed in dancing flames.

"WITH WHAT? I HAVE NOTHING!" McAlister screamed. "TAKE IT....take what ever you want from me. Everything is gone! Gone!"

"You have something I want...."

"Then, take it.....take whatever you want, and give me back my soul."

Weariness hit the woman, causing her to close her eyes. As she blinded herself, Death stood approaching Faylin to feed off of her yet again. Opening her eyes slightly, she felt his cold, skeleton hand reach out to touch her. Something deep within her told her to run, flee as fast as she could. Cries from within her, warning her that this was truly not what she wanted.

Backing up, she was stopped by the heated touch of the Devil. He held her by both her upper arms, the room still pitch black except for the illumination coming from his flames, and Death's icy stare as he still approached.

Death touched the spot he needed to, with a look of sheer abandonment.

The Devil continued to hold her steady. Faylin stood, no emotion as of yet, until she felt two snaps from deep within her.

Feeling release on her arms, she slowly spun around as Death evaporated around her. Cocking his head to the side as he shrouded himself with his cloak, he spoke simply. "Your soul is set free Faylin."

The ground opened up between the Devil's feet. A small orb, no larger than an orange, lifted up from the depths of hell. It's glow, a soft cream colored rose, was still untouched by evil hands. As she watched it rise to the level of the Devil's had, her eyes met his with a gratefulness that could not be described.

With grace, the being grabbed the JAG officer by the throat, she felt her mouth forced open as the beating orb entered her, settling finally on the place that souls rest. As the orb cracked in half and it's shell disappeared, the same cream colored rose illumination filtered out throughout her body.

Instantly, her porcelain soft complexion returned. The transformation back to the true Faylin had just finished. Taking his hand away he stood quietly. "Good bye." His haunting voice chilled her to her very core as he swept himself from the room.

Slumping to the floor, she held her belly as her brain gave her the grave reality of the whole situation. Once vitality and life were able to be housed there, no longer. Her womb carried within it, two boys. Who, if given the chance, would have been named Liam and Aidan.

Liam,`would have had his mother's olive skin, dark eyes, and dark straight hair. He would carry his father's reckless abandonment for life, however, have his mother's soft touch for the first time he would have held his son. He would have grown to be a fighter pilot.

Reckless and crude, yet entirely skilled in his craft as he would light up the sky with fire as he protected the next generation of Starfleet from the rogues that defiled their main purpose.

Aidan, the sturdier of the two, would sport his fathers thick auburn hair and bright green eyes. He would posses his father's quiet ability to rain down hell on whomever crossed his path with a style and grace that came from his mother. He would follow in his mother's footsteps as a JAG. He would be known as an eagle among pigeons in relation to his knowledge of law and his ability to craft tales that resulted in justice for anyone that needed him.

The two boys, turned men would have made their mother and father proud. Taking the best characterise from both Faylin and Steven, and weaving those characteristics into a tapestry of emotion and style that only those parents could provide their offspring.

Steven, would have come back to her, settling down with Faylin. With overwhelming patience, he would take what was best within him, turning her into a proper woman despite the cruelness that she carried in her heart. Eventually, the two would grow old, watching their grandchildren play in the flower field opposite the tiny pub they would restore that had been Faylin's parents pub in Edinburgh.

However, as events turn, things happen that are unexpected. McAlister gained back her soul, but lost her future that was destined for her, if she would have just been content with herself. Now, along with gaining her soul, she lost her ability to continue her line. She missed out on having her legacy born before her eyes. Steven missed out on the chance to become the father he yearned to become.

Starfleet, missed out on the leader that would take over control of the pilots on a vital mission in the Alpha Sector, that, in the end, won the war slated for the next generation to fight. The JAG Headquarters, would never know the best attorney to come to them.

Several Starfleet Ambassadors, that were found guilty without his justice behind them, would be the catalyst that started the above mentioned intergalactic war.

Just outside, in the void of space silently floating beside the Galaxy and Miranda, Death gently held Aidan and Liam close to his breast as he escorted them to meet their adoptive father in Hell.

The destiny that had been set for Faylin, Steven, Starfleet, and the next generation, had been drastically changed. If it was for the better, that was to be determined..................

"Dark Pride"

LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

Deck 7, CIC

--Takes place after the battle and before K'aa gets fired...

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

It was over.

For the first time in a few long, hairy hours, Chris was able to take a deep breath. Now one hour past the defeat of the Triad fleet, the space around Romulus had been cleared and the ship had stood down from Red Alert to a “Heightened Yellow Alert.” Which meant his CIC controllers could finally stand down.

Chris keyed up his headset. “Bridge, CIC is going off comm…we'll pick you back up if need be.”

[Confirmed, CIC, catch you later]. Janeen's voice ended as she dutifully cut the hours old comm-link between the bridge speakers and Chris' mouth. Chris couldn't help but smile at the thought of his girlfriend, sitting at the Ops Station, hopefully smiling back at his voice coming over the comm. No doubt, she would have her own stories to tell, and he longed to hear them under a warm blanket and little clothing. All that really mattered to him right now were that her and Ezzie had made it through unscathed. Relieved, he pulled the device that had become his third ear and second voice over the last day and set it in a holster on the wall.

The CIC was still abuzz with activity, as fleet coordination set up patrols around the ch'Rihan system and the Marine liaisons worked the ground mop-up, but the ship centric activities were more concerned with damage assessment and powering down the weapons; mundane tasks that did not require constant oversight.

Chris began to walk to the far end of the floor and observed. The CIC itself would have to be fixed. That would come in time. The new addition to the ship had done its job as advertised and then some. Every tactical department in the fleet now was raving about how they wanted one.

That didn't matter too much to him as did the performance of his people. As he reached the observation railing and stood next to two all-too-familiar Captains, he beamed with pride as he looked out on the battle coordination crew. They had overcome their first defeat as a team, and the loss of three kids, to deliver one of the best performances they had ever mustered, drills included. In a time of war, they became the all seeing eyes and ears of the mighty Miranda, and at times, the righteous fist of justice as well. Not too bad for a department which only a few months prior had been in a bit of civil unrest.

The righteous fist of justice. He reflected on that for a minute. He had delivered many Hydrans and T'Kith'Kin to whatever God they believed in. Directly, he had fired upon their ships, sending them to horrible deaths from plasma burns, crushing debris, warp core overloads, or vacuum exposure. Husbands, sons, brothers, mothers, daughters, sisters, nieces, nephews…all of them he had killed, be it by the force of directed energy weapons, or the sheer explosive force of a torpedo. And how many countless others had he signed the death warrant for, relaying that information to K'aa and then allowing his Gorn friend to execute the sentence?

The only thing that bothered him about the situation was that he wasn't bothered at all. After the first battle, his outlook on combat changed dramatically. Until now, he had been neutral towards it all; it was his job to destroy the enemy. After the first battle, when he learned of his dead crewmen, all that had changed. It had become personal to him. He WANTED to avenge those young crewmen. He didn't need firing authority during the battle, he WANTED it so as to give the Hydrans a personal taste of what they had reaped. He WANTED to kill them, with a fire and a passion so foreign to him that he had no basis for comparison. Kelly Marcos had commented that she had seen a sneer on his face when he pushed the trigger. She was probably right. Something had come over him during the past few hours that he had never felt before.

And at one point he had nearly advocated a war crime. Where had that come from?

He had just experienced his first case of blood lust—and deep down in a corner of his psyche that

he didn't talk about and he couldn't explain, he had kinda liked it. It had made him feel alive,

firing the weapons and watching those ships disintegrate. More alive than anything in awhile—save for Janeen. He had been emboldened by the firepower at his fingertips, and after having his first drink of the elixir of enemy blood, he longed to taste it again.

Was this linked to the voice that he and Ezzie had been hearing? He couldn't be sure. Whatever female was inhabiting his head from time to time had revealed no intentions, no clear definitions of purpose, no raison d'etre. All he knew is that if his sister was hearing it as well, he couldn't be going insane. Little did he know that his journeys with the voice in his head hadn't even truly begun yet.

But for now, things were calm again. And he took the time to enjoy the peace.

"World's Finest, Part 3 - Put Your Whole Self In"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

=The Manor=

Kara paced impatiently in the lobby, bag on her shoulder. She looked around the spooky mansion. There was something very old and very powerful about this place... and it was a feeling that did seem to promise answers... and she had so many questions.

An antique candle-holder drew her attention, and the young blond woman gazed into the fire as she held the light up to her face. The room was poorly lit. Maybe it was on purpose, maybe no one had ever truly taken the time to live in this place.

Go to Gotham, Martha had said. Talk to Bruce. He'd clear things up.

It made perfect sense. But none at all to Kara. Why go to Gotham? Why talk to Bruce? She had seemed so sad to her, too. Kara felt as if the woman had not wanted her to go. Martha had talked about her son, about how he had been gone for so long. She mentioned him as if Kara should know him, but as far as she could remember, she could not recall ever knowing a Kal-El.

The old woman was clearly senile. Kept on raving about Kara's special abilities, about how she was from a dead planet and, while here, could do amazing things. It seemed a bit crude, but the only term she could come up with to describe the poor woman's rant was... well, batshit crazy. All of this madness, and it had made her very angry, so very...

The metal bent in her grasp. She'd only squeezed a little and it had practically folded. The light danced as if it's life depended on it.

Panicking, she looked around the room. The old butler had not yet returned, no one was in sight. Cautiously, she held the antique in both hands and bent it back into an upright position. The metal creaked in protest. Biting her lip, she set it on the table. It stood upright.

Good as new. Except for the fingerprints. Old piece of junk.

"Kara, my dear," a smooth, confident voice called out from behind her, "It is so good to see you. It really has been too long."

She spun on her foot. She knew this man, knew his voice. Finally, something familiar in this crazy world. Kara smiled. "Bruce?"

He smiled at her... but she could not help but wonder if the man's fluid stride been broken by hesitation and surprise for just a moment before then? He walked up to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"You look fantastic," he remarked, drawing back... his eyes though, were puzzled....

"Thank you. You look a little hurt, though. Are you alright? Umm, B-Bruce, this may sound unusual, but I have to talk to you about something that may sound just a little..." she bobbed her head back and forth and made a strained expression, "crazy." She followed him into the mansion's study, where a well-tended fireplace made their shadows dance on the wall.

"I fell," he whispered softly, his attention focused on Kara's sparkling blue eyes, as if he were searching for something within them. "I...

fell." He cleared his throat, "Of course, Kara, any thing for you. But please, sit down... Would you like Alfred to get you something?"

She sat down and put her bag in her lap. His familiarity assured her the answers would be found here. It had become just a little easier to respond when someone called her Kara, and it felt like everything would finally be clear. "Oh, um. Sure, raktagino would be fine." She waved the question off. He seemed a little spooked too. "You fell? Fell how, exactly?"

"Two raktaginos please, Alfred," Bruce told the old man hovering behind him, before turning back to Kara, "The thing is that I have no memory of...."

Alfred cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I am sorry to interrupt... but what was it that you asked for, Sir?"

"Two raktaginos."

Kara eyed the old man suspiciously. She waited until he left, then turned back to Bruce. "You'd think he never heard of coffee before."

She shook her head. "I think I fell too... but..."

Bruce shook his head. "No... I did not fall. Alfred said I jumped. I jumped. You... seeing you made me think of falling for some reason.

No. I must have jumped."

She swallowed, and her next words felt so very foolish. "From a mile off the ground, maybe?"

He shook his head and sat back in his chair. "I have no idea." He said nothing for a moment, then asked, "Tell me...what do you want with the Batman?"

She blinked. Maybe the old woman wasn't being completely crazy. Maybe everyone was. Maybe Kara was the only sane one. "With the whowhatnow?

Does that have anything to do with... uh, Supergirl?"

"Supergirl?"

She placed her bag on the table and pulled out the costume. "It's supposed to fit me. I have no idea how." She lowered her voice. "Do you have one too?"

"Begging your pardon, Master Bruce... but I think this has gone on long enough. Obviously, there is something very wrong with you... with your memory," the servant glanced at Kara, "With both of you. I think that these," Alfred said, pulling the covers the trolley to reveal two costumes, "Will jog your memories a little."

She frowned. "The skirt on that one's even shorter." She glanced at Bruce and Alfred, then peered into the other room, straining to listen.

The day had grown very dark very quickly, and this place seemed even less welcoming. The costumes kept her gaze, and she felt herself slipping just a little more, the room going grey as her mind wandered.

Kara was surprised to hear screams, suddenly. She jumped. Bruce was studying her. Was it her imagination. She blinked a few times, and then tried to clear her mind. She turned and stared into the fireplace.

The flames danced rhythmically.

Kara closed her eyes, and the world felt suddenly small. The screams were back. "They're in danger..." she whispered, straining to focus on the sounds and taking a step forward.

It was a sound that was very familiar to her. Maybe this was what she did. Why, then, did she suddenly feel such a pervasive guilt at the sound. She stood frozen in place, listening to the screams. The two men didn't seem to notice. She glanced around... there was a light in the clouds outside the window, and in it another symbol. Like the one on Bruce's armor.

"Master Bruce, they're signaling you."

Wayne nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "On screen, Alfred."

"Sir?"

Kara looked back at Bruce. His words, the anticipation. It felt very familiar. She was remembering! "I can hear them," she said. She grabbed the newer costume, hands shaking. "We have to save them." She felt her chest flutter, could hear her own heartbeat. This felt right, somehow. She felt right.

Alfred touched Wayne's elbow, "Put it on, Sir. Become Batman."

With a hesitant hand, Bruce reached for the costume. "Body armor?"

"Of course, Sir. Unlike Kara, you are a mere mortal."

A shadow fell over Bruce's eyes, the whites of them seeming to glow in dark room. "Well...that is a comforting thought. Come then, Kara," he said, seized by the moment, compelled by an need to react with certainty that felt like it had been part of him as long as he had existed. "To the Bat Cave." He grabbed the costume and stalked toward the grandfather clock against the far wall.

"Unlike Kara?" she asked, frantic, following the suddenly grim figure nonetheless, keeping up with his quick pace. "Who am I? Who are you?

Now hold on!" She boomed, and felt hot with anger.

He looked over his shoulder, a grim smile. Her eyes glowed red and

furious. "It is all about the Elements, Kara. I... I am Shadow. And

you are Fire."

"Justice Without Force is Powerless"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG USS Galaxy

Location: McAlister's Office

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

Sitting silently at her desk, the tapping of her nail against the desk signified that Faylin was thinking. Thinking of how to rid herself of a little problem named T'Rei. The woman had evidence that pinpointed the Terran for the murder of her little girl. Ordinary justice would not be called for in an instance such as this. This situation would need justice that only a person in her type of position could call for.

The tapping ceased, as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips. Her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she tasted the liquid slide down her throat. She had people at her disposal, people that she trusted with such as task. To rest assured her bidding was done with no traces back to her had usually been easy. One does not advance the ranks of certain positions without being there once themselves. There was a certain path that one took. Ways around things were presented, and taken, for the advantage of the JAG officer.

Setting her mug down, McAlister still racked her brain. The proper thing to do was to bring the evidence to the Chief of Security and work closely with him to handle this particular situation. That's the protocol. However, protocol did not take into account that the JAG officer would have a personal vendetta against the woman that was to be charged with a little girl's murder. Faylin knew what was honestly behind the motive to murder her little girl, just as she knew the real reason why her parents were taken in front of her eyes and by whom.

It was time to call in a few favors to execute justice the 'Inner Sanctum' way. IS justice was quick, swift, and most deadly in most cases. Starfleet law had a way of lagging, permitting certain freedoms to guilty parties that members of IS did not agree with in the least sense of the word. The attorney had been a member for a few years at this point, yet she was highly regarded in the elite circle of the Starfleet legal underground.

She smiled. That was the reason she was able to get the Lt. off so easily. In more ways than one. Bad girls, had a habit of attracting bad boys. One look between them at the initial meeting, and everyone knew that flick of passion was for more than just each other's bodies.

Straightening in her seat, she reluctantly left the memories of the past to the past. Saul had moved on, and in a way, so had she...maybe. However, nothing could completely erase the underhanded and craft fully seductive ways of Faylin McAlister. But with him, it was more. What she felt for him had yet to be told, if ever. It was ingrained in her core, much to the delight and horror of those around her.

The time had come to put an end to a problem. Tapping the console, she innocently left a message for an intel officer due to arrive on the ship sometime soon. The contents were innocent, a welcome to the Galaxy wording, yet for her and the other officer, the cryptic true meaning of the note was appreciated on several levels.

Standing, she came around her desk, opening the cabinet that contained her crystal starships. On the very bottom shelf in the back, she drew out an item that she thought needed dusted off and placed on her desk.

It sat right beside the black crystal Panther, and her opinion, had been in the back for far to long. It was a magnificent piece, large and crying out for attention. The immediate release from it's glass cage pleased the creature as it beamed several prisms of light across Faylin's office. She smiled as she studied the figure.

The wing span was impressive, as well as the plated ridged back and long tail that wrapped around the creature at it's base. Placing it gently on the corner of her desk, she caressed the head and fangs of the mystical dragon. It's position was one just prior to flight.

It's head up towards the sky, and each wing spread as in release of freedom. It was off to battle, the wing span and look one of sheer determination. Near the bottom, a small inscription was engraved on

it's tail. "Justice without force is powerless."

Truth be told, the mysteries surrounding Faylin had yet to be revealed in all their honesty. The woman had many facets to her past and present. The past, only one person knew who she was. The man at HQ guarded that information closely, for if it was brought into light, it would end her life in a most gruesome fashion.....the way she had ended so many lives the years before.

The flurry of new activity had sickened her somewhat. Once 'they' had found out that her reason for leaving her past activities was deceased, they had started to entice her with offers of what ever she desired to come back to them. With hesitation, Faylin accepted and was welcomed with open arms with the main goal of using their resources to introduce T'Rei to her personal close friend.....Death.

Death never seemed to escaped the officer, where ever she went; it followed. It did not permit her to fully experience love without loss, hate without loss, and general everyday life without the hint of loss in the future. At one point in her life, Faylin McAlister accepted the risks that went along with her job. It was something that she would never rid herself of, even if she wanted to. Her past activities linked themselves to her present like a ball and chain that would not be removed until her own death.

That ball and chain restricted her to hold on to anything for very long, especially relationships. In her heart, she longed to settle down, it was something that she was willing to start fighting for..........if.......

"World's Finest, Part 4 - Into the Woods"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

=The Cave=

In the darkness, he was far more striking. Kara had thought that simply wearing these strange uniforms was only symbolic. Officers declaring their loyalties and their ranks. Truth. Justice. Lofty ideals.

In the time it had taken him to descend into his lair, she had already made the change. The speed at which she had moved had surprised her, as if this place was a breeding ground for temporal anomaly. Special abilities, indeed. She watched him don the final piece of his uniform, the cape and cowl. He turned toward her, and the cape billowed around him like a thing alive. Eyes white with reightous fire, muscles rippling with taut anticipation, his frightening countenance seemingly came from within, as if his true self had been hiding all along.

Maybe Bruce wasn't as charming as she'd thought. Maybe he had a dark side he kept from wary eyes. Maybe only his enemies were meant to see this.

Her trust in him was shaken, if only for an instant. Then, she realized that it had never been fully complete. She'd allowed a sense of familiarity, through some need of hers, to take precedent, before letting his actions speak for themselves.

For his part, Bruce simply stopped moving when he saw her and let out a deep breath. A smallest hint of a smile danced across his half-hidden features. He began to say something, then paused, his eyes drifting over the entirety of her slender form - her scandalously short skirt, her bare midriff, only to settle back on her striking eyes. Flaxen hair, glowing skin, bejeweled eyes - she was a golden presence, shining bright even in the dull darkness of his cave.

"You look...."

She crossed her arms, covering the symbol and its accents. Shaking her head, she tried to walk past him quickly. "I feel naked. Let's go save some people before I change my mind."

"Hey," Bruce said, grabbing her arm as she walked past and pulled her back, holding her puzzled, bright eyes with his own shadowy gaze for a moment before letting her go. He gave her a wry smile, "I like your cape."

She looked him over. The chest muscles had more definition at this range. Maybe these costumes weren't so bad. She bit her lip, and looked from shoulder to shoulder, down to his hand, which still rested on her shoulder. "Umm... and I like your arm blades. We can admire aesthetic later." She took a step back, and he let his arm fall, along with his expression. Kara smiled brightly. "I hope that grimace is part of the act."

He kept her gaze. "What act?"

She started to tap her feet. "People. Danger. Batmobile." She pointed, not even bothering to look at it. "Vigilant much?"

Bruce turned to look at the monster of a vehicle and sighed, "Ah - of course. Yes...well, there is one problem. Do you know how to... well, pilot that thing?"

* * *

=The City=

Destro ran, nearly slipping on the patch of black ice.

His lungs screamed, desperately folding in on themselves, sucking air in and then shoving it out again in an attempt to put out the molten lava scorching through his legs. He choked on the thick, tangible air of Gotham. Cars streaked past him, horns blaring. Heedlessly, he continued to run. Every stride forward was fuel for the fire building in his legs, demanding more from his pounding hurting heart.

Finally, coming upon a dark alley, Destro allowed himself to stop, letting his giant frame slump against a cold brick wall. Soon he would have to begin to run again. The Bat was relentless. Worse, he - if that thing was even human - was insane. Even as he had been running away from the bank his accomplices were robbing, he had seen the Bat drive his car through a wall to get to them. The Bat was mad. There was no other explanation for it.

Now Destro Maximilian - or 'the Comrade' as he called himself - was not a particularly smart creature. He had relied on his giant form to get him through most of his life - and it had worked. Most people were too scared of him to see that he was a coward. So usually, he would have stuck with the job - actually tried to rob the bank - but he had heard his boss talk about how this was a distraction, how it was meant to keep Batman away from the smuggling operation about to begin soon. Now Destro was many things... bait and fodder, however, he was not. So just before the hold up had started, he'd turned tail and run.

There was no way the Bat would find him now. He had come far enough, that he was probably safe....

Then, from the shadows, came a hoarse, deadly voice laced with furious amusement. "Going somewhere?"

* * *

Meanwhile...

Candy and Dulce watched angrily as Destro had thrown his gun to the ground and run out the door. A bit surprised when the Batman pursued, they were quick to turn this situation to their favor. They were already getting paid. Now it was time to collect the bonus. Candy grinned. "Who knew it would be so easy, Dulce? Shall we help these fat cats lose some weight?"

"Si, Candy. Public service." They both leveled their rifles toward the tellers. "Back to work, grunts! Anyone moves, they get shot!"

Kara sat back in the passenger seat, listening to the exchange. She spoke into the car's radio. "You just left? What about the bystanders?

And the two scary women with the bright wigs?"

"I don't hit women." Radio static.

"Great." She pushed the big button on the side, and the passenger door slid open. Dulce turned to face the newcomer, and watched a delicate hand appear, followed by Kara. Her cape swirled as she stood to face them. "Now, let's be reasonable about this. We don't want anyone to get hurt." Her voice shook, but she did her best to hide it.

Candy leaned toward her partner and whispered under her breath.

"Fraggin' Supergirl!"

"Yo se," Dulce hissed back.

Kara crossed her arms. "I can hear you."

"What the hell..." Candy tossed her gun aside and ran toward Kara.

Dodging the swing, Kara curled her hand into a fist and slugged the ridiculous woman in the gut. Candy's feet left the ground with an "oof!" She backpedaled and scowled at Supergirl. "Bit.."

Lunging at her, Kara tackled the woman to the ground. "Do I call you names? That's so completely tasteless. And your hair is hideous."

Despite the woman's size, she seemed incredibly weak. Kara lifted her by her collar into the air. "Surrender."

Candy spit in her eye.

"Ugh!" She threw the woman into the Batmobile door, knocking her unconscious. The airbag inflated and trapped her limp form nicely.

Supergirl smiled. "Almost makes up for the hydrocarbon emissions."

A man appeared from the bank vault, with two large bags slung over his shoulder. "Girls, girls. All you two had to do was...." he saw Kara, smiling triumphantly with her arms on her waist, and dropped the bags.

Dashing forward, he grabbed a young girl from the frightened crowd, pulling out a weapon and aiming it at her head. "Stay back!"

She froze. Not again. Please, God...

"Not again," she breathed.

The man smirked. "That's what I thought."

The world shattered. "Not. Again!" she screamed, her face twisted in a ferocity she had never quite felt before. Her eyes glowed with unbridled crimson fury, and the man screamed.

Then, gone before it could completely register for most, there was a blur of darkness as a shadow fell from the ceiling, grabbed the screaming thug and soared back up at inhuman speed, pulling the man away from the fire streaming from Supergirl's furious gaze.

Even though the man was dangling in midair, with only Batman's strength between him and a bone shattering fall, the man continued to scream - not out of fear but in pain. His hand was nearly burned to the bone, possibly useless forever but....

"You'll live," Batman snarled, "How disappointing."

But the man kept screaming, yelling now, begging for Batman to save him from Supergirl.

"Now you have gone and insulted me," the Bat whispered dangerously, before slamming his metal cowl into the thug's face, knocking him about before lowering them both to the ground. Ignoring everything, Bruce walked up to Kara, who was standing still, as if stunned.

The world wavered before her unwavering eyes. What had happened, and her memory of it, had split realities. The man had taken the form of a monstrous creature. The bank was gone. She was outside, in the dirt, watching the monster take the girl and leaving fire in it's wake. This place was alien. It was not home... it was the furthest she'd ever been, in some ways. But it was real, and it was true.

She closed her eyes and fell to her knees. Something was wrong with this world. Kara was wrong. She knew it in her heart, but more importantly she knew it in her mind. The answers were almost within her grasp, but as her rage died and confusion set in, she felt it slipping.

Things moved about her, she could sense the women escaping, could see the motive that had played into their actions, the distraction that they were. A distraction from what?

A shadow eclipsed her from behind. "Are you all right?"

Kara's breath escaped her. She opened her eyes and focused, letting the emotion slide away, grasping for something concrete. She looked at her hands. She knew these to be her hands. She would start there.

Bruce knelt before her and gently raised his hand to her chin, making her look up at him and staring into her eyes for a moment. Whatever he saw in those deep blue oceans, seemed to answer his question. "Good,"

he whispered quietly, "Lets go home."

"Home? Are you insane?" She pushed his hand aside and stood up.

"There's more going on here than a simple robbery." She turned, took one step toward the Batmobile, shook her head and walked toward the door.

"I'll get to the bottom of this."

"I already have," he said, rising to his feet and resuming his 'Batman'

voice, "So We are going to go back and make a plan."

"Fine." She sniffed disapprovingly at the hole in the wall. "I'm driving this time."

"Perceptions of a Quad"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG, USS Galaxy

2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine, USS Galaxy

****

Bental's Quarters

****

Faylin expelled another breath, this time longer than the last. "All this is getting to me....would you like to go get a drink in Ten Forward?"

"I'm pretty full." Saul lied, "But sure, I'll escort you, got nothing better to do.". Another lie.

McAlister chuckled. Her whole body just felt sore from battling on the planet. Hell, even her eyelids felt heavy. She rubbed her neck with her hand as Saul disappeared, then a moment later, reappeared.

Grabbing the hand he offered, she smiled softly as she felt hoisted up to a standing position.

* * * Ten Forward * * *

It had been a rough night, trying to sleep, but finding no solace in his bed. A drink in Ten forward had been in order. The stronger the better. And as he entered, he had spotted Nara sitting at the bar. It had been ages since they had had a drink, so he walked on over.

Nara sat drinking orange juice. Common human drink. Saul's favorite, in fact. She was doing good to avoid synthenol. Well, she wasn't FEELING good about it, but her slump seemed to had passed. Or was overcome by the weight of weariness after the battle. She ate, drank and worked going through the motions. She tried to sleep, but that never came easily. It was more fitful dozing than anything.

"Hey stranger." he called out.

Looking up, she gave a small smile, "Hey."

"Not on the hard stuff?" Steven asked as he saw the drink in front of her. Motioning over the bartender, he ordered a drink. "Give me something strong and make it a double."

After the bartender left, she replied, "I decided to try and be an adult.

Hard stuff kind of defeats the purpose."

Steven heard the door open and turned to see who it was. Faylin McAlister entered the bar. And she was not alone. She had company.

His form was caught by her memory out of the corner of the JAG officer's eye. And, he was here with....."Interesting." Was all that rolled off Faylin's tongue.

"Not sure if you want to know this," Steven said, "but your man just walked in with the woman who keeps screwing with me and my life."

Nara looked at him strangely and then turned. She watched the two a moment and turned back, looking at her glass, confusion and restraint showing on her face.

10-4ward was not a good place to kill someone.

Steven saw the expression on her face. "I feel like doing that too."

He offered a smile.

"Maybe it's work related."

Faylin's lips curled slightly at the sight of the two sitting at the bar.

Nodding her head, she slightly sighed. Part of her really, really just wanted to stick it to Steven. And, when she viewed Nara's gaze, McAlister had to shake her head. Animosity was such an interesting word.

"Hello Steven, Nara." Smiling pleasantly, she turned her focus on the bartender, not paying hid to the sudden spin Saul took on his heels.

Apparently, he was too deep in thoughts to notice either Nara or Jonas - not a regular condition for the usually alert Dutchman.

"Hi." The slight tilt of her head and her big brown eyes proclaimed an innocence that drew people to her. "Can I please have a caramel vanilla chai? Oh..." The sweet smile grew larger. "If you can sprinkle some cinnamon on top of that....that would just make my evening."

Glancing sideways, she noted the amber fluid in the short glass that Steven was starting to nurse. "I see we are having a rather stiff drink Jonas?"

"So what of it?" Steven retorted, "I'm allowed to have a strong drink if I want to."

She waved her hand, closing her eyelids for a moment. "I find no need in it honestly. However, different people deal with their problems in different ways I gather." The tea arrived, specifically as Faylin had ordered it. Looking over at Bental, she purred like an engine on a finely tuned 1967 Dodge Charger. "Where would you like to sit Panther?"

Saul just gestured in the general direction of the tables, eyes fixed on Nara. Then, he looked down slightly, realizing what the golden liquid in her glass was.

"Hey." Was all he could say.

Nara smiled slightly realizing what was going on. It was quite obvious. She looked up at Saul. "Hey. We'll talk later?"

"Sure thing." He said, fingers brushing through her hair for a moment. It was only when he turned to join Faylin at her table that the concern about her seeing him with the JAG man-eater was replaced by the realization that she was sitting at the bar with Jonas. Add this to the fact that the two of them took a trip alone to ch'Rihan's surface before all hell broke loose--

"Let me know if you want me to trade places with Mr. veteran." He told Faylin as he landed into his chair.

Glancing sideways at Saul, she spoke. "When hell freezes over." Her dark eyes narrowed at her intended target of hate for what he had said to her earlier. Steven Jonas.

Nara looked at Jonas and raised an eyebrow, "Well this is so far from awkward." A smirk showed her sarcasm.

"Yeah sorry." Steven replied. "I wasn't expecting to see her again."

Nara shrugged, "Seems to me she's taunting you. And using my boyfriend to do it."

"Well, we were getting on fine, sharing a bed, killing Hydrans, the lot, and then the day the fleet returned, she changed suddenly and didn't want anything to do with me." He tried to smile, but there was nothing to smile about.

Nara pursed her lips and sighed sympathetically. "She's been through a lot.

I can't imagine how I'd react and how many minds I'd end up screwing with from my own being whacked out if I lost Saia."

Faylin steeled herself against the eyeballing that she was observing between Steven and Nara then, turned her attention back to Saul for a moment.

Steven watched Saul and Fay out of the corner of his eye, the irritation clear on his face. If it wasn't bad enough what happened earlier, she had to go and flaunt a new man in front of him. And in front of the man's partner no less. It was despicable. Pathetic even. Steven sculled the last of the drink and ordered another.

* * *

After a brief conversation, Saul went to pick up their orders. Faylin remained sitting by the table, stirring the liquid in her cup while pondering the complete coolness of everyone concerned. The quietness was a welcome companion for once, until a figure stood to the side of her, blocking her light.

"Yes?"

"Why do you have to such a bitch all the time?" Steven asked as he stood next to Faylin's table.

Meanwhile, Nara was left alone and saw Saul approach the bar. She sighed.

She walked over to stand beside Saul. Partly because she had missed him and partly to say, "Ya think we're just pawns in some lover's war?"

"I don't think Faylin knew she'll find Lieutenant Jonas here, if that's what you're asking." Saul told her, smiling warmly. "Otherwise..."

Nara nodded, "I do feel sorry for her, but Jonas shouldn't have to be the scape goat for her anger over losing her daughter." It would be obvious Nara didn't consider Steven very romantically. She still referred to him by his last name.

He made the order, then turned to see how things developed at the table.

From the short distance he was at, it didn't look good at all.

Arching a single eyebrow, she slowly lowered the cup of chai and regarded him for a moment. Part of her, a very small tiny part wanted to reach up, pull him to her and kiss him for all his was bloody worth. However, with all that she had just gone through, the knowledge of losing her sons now clear, and the comment he made to her earlier, she came back with the only retort she could fathem.

Standing, she placed her hands on her hips. "Why do you have to be such a jerk Steven? Saying that Olivia left me because I'm 'bitchy'?

How utterly cruel can you get? My daughter was murdered and taken from me. Have you no heart at all?"

"Look, I was all enraged at what you were saying and it just slipped out. I said I was sorry about that. And I truly am. I just don't get what has come over you in the past few days. You've been mega mean and bitchy and it's driving me up the wall. Is it cause I asked if you wanted to move in together? Cause I only wanted to be able to spend more time with you."

She brought her hand up and waved it. "Please......"

"And did you really have to punch Kala?"

"It's called putting a slut in her place Steven. You sleep with someone after our date, after we said we'd go exclusive and you expect me to welcome her in with open arms? Have you lost it?"

Steven laughed. "When were we exclusive? Cause I don't recall us ever talking about that. We were just going to try and make our own history. Unless that means we are exclusive, cause I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to relationship terminology."

"Look, bottom line, you slept with someone while we were together, then, you also proceed to tell me that I have no passion. All you would have to do is ask that man over there and he'll tell you I have more passion in my little toe then you have contained in that body of yours. And then, on top of it all, you go and tell me that my daughter left me. Words can not describe the wrath I wish to impart on your person. Your judgement, in relation to comments concerning your opinion of my person, is lacking severely in morality and ethics." Her eyes grew wide, the last of her little speech was just down right wordy. "I'll rephrase that part in lay mans terms if you couldn't understand it." She stated simply.

"Down on the planet, you were laying into her fairly hard. I know, cause I was there. Do you have no self control?"

"I have perfect self control. Right now, if you knew the self control I am exhibiting right now over something, it would blow-your-mind.

Let's speak about self control Jonas. You still didn't answer my question from earlier. Did you think of me while you were screwing her?"

"I already told you that I just remember waking up and not what I was thinking of when it occurred. How many times do I have to apologize for it?"

"I'm still counting." Her voice icy as she sat and took a drink of her chai.

"You know what's funny?" Steven asked calmly.

"What? What is so funny to you Steven? I'm dying to hear this."

"It happened nearly a month ago now and after our initial difficulties, we had almost 2 weeks together without so much of a whimper about this and then the fleet returns and bam, you go mental at me and at her! What gives?"

"I'm a woman. And as one I have a right to change my mind, to think on things then go off weeks or months, or even years later. If you have a problem with that, and I'm sure you do....you can stuff it up your ass. Anything else you feel you need to say before I tell you to bugger off yet again? Come on Steven. Certainly there is one more hurtful thing you want to say to me. Come on....give me your best shot Marine. Let's hear it."

"You just don't get it do you?" Steven said with a shake of his head.

"I have never wanted to hurt you. I am in love. With you! That is the plain and honest truth, but obviously that's too much for you to handle."

"Oh, I get it. I get that for you, love is sleeping with someone else.

Love is....love is telling someone that they lack passion. Love is......according to Steven Jonas....telling a woman that just lost her child....that she is the reason the child was murdered and taken away from her. If that's love, according to you Steven, I want no part of it at all." Her head swung to the ground, then up as she stared at him. "Do you honestly think you could hurt me anymore than you have Steven? You couldn't, unless you were to take my.......my soul." Faylin grew deathly quiet, before taking a long look at Saul who just returned with a plate in each hand.

Her finger rose slightly, pointing at Nara as a tear formed in her left eye. Her gaze never left the Intel officer. "Don't.....don't you ever, ever treat her like he has treated me Saul." Turning back to Jonas, she closed her eyes before opening them. The moisture they held dripped down her cheek. "No one deserves that."

Grabbing her padd off the table, she took a minute and looked at the three around her. Saul, Nara, and Steven. Faylin shook her head, lowered it, and started to walk at a quickened pace out the door.

Saul placed the plates down on the table, and grimaced at Faylin's back.

"So she was using me to get to you, eh?" He shook his head with mock disappointment, without looking directly at Jonas. "That's how she operates."

Steven looked at Saul for a moment. "So it seems." He turned to see Nara looking in their direction and smiled. "I think I'm going to go and get some sleep. See you guys later."

Saul waited politely until Steven vanished, then took Nara's hands and held them.

"I hope, princess, that you weren't taking any notes from those two..."

Nara looked up and smiled at him, "Certainly not." Her face grew serious, "I wouldn't take offense if you went to talk to her." From all she didn't know of Saul, of all the mysteries he beheld, she trusted him. It wavered, but in the end, she realized there was never reason to be jealous. She could tell by how he looked at her.

"Loop"

Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Soundtrack & Lyrics: 'Loop' - Tsubasa Chronicle Future Soundscape I

***

While this town is covered by twilight,

The morning sun is shining down somewhere else in this world.

As that flower withers away in your hand, A little seed probably falls into the ground somewhere else.

If a trodden soil can be called a path,

Then can shutting my eyes be called love?

***

Saul and Nara walked out of Ten forward, holding hands. One year ago, he would never agree to walk hand in hand with a fellow officer down these corridors, and now he was the one who took HER hand after Jonas left.

He glanced sideways at her stubborn, pretty face. That cheekbone begged to be kissed, but he wasn't going to do any of that in the corridor yet. He still had much to learn from 8-Ball and Fay-Fay.

"What did you do after I left for the Exeter?" He asked. It wasn't the first time he vanished on her without warning. The last time he did it was when he joined the Vaden covert operation, but there were other times beforehand.

"Saved the world." She smirked as she looked at him, "Or tried. Ella and Dhani came up missing, so guess who was in charge of Engineering?"

"Excellent." Saul smiled broadly. "I always thought you should give command a try. How was it?"

"I have a LOT of poor ensigns to apologize to." Her smile was frozen pretty much in place. He had taken her hand and seem unashamed of it. She had missed him. When she had time to miss anyone. "Thing I like about you, Saul, is you have a wonderful habit of coming back. Alive."

"You know me. I have no intention of dying. It's bad for the business. You've done a pretty good job survivng yourself, and..."

He stopped, to take a better look into her beautiful brown eyes. "And for that, Nara, I'm truly thankful.", He admitted.

Said eyes sparkled as she looked at him, "Me too." Of course he knew she meant she was grateful he kept come back alive.

"I have no idea how we do it, Nara." Saul continued, as if he didn't hear her words. "It's truly a miracle, when you think of it. If I had remained on Utrecht, or you on Sakaria, or if things went different on Havras, Mirusa, Trill, or DS5..."

****

If our star was flat, the two of us wouldn't have met, We would be running without slowing down, as if from each other.

No matter how far apart we are now,

We will surely face each other again, in this revolving miracle.

****

"Oh." She pursed her lips unsure how to go about it, but considering Eve was on his team, maybe he already knew, so that would be a good way to bring it up, "You've heard about Eve?"

"It was the second thing I read after I got back to my room." The first thing was the casualty report, but Saul didn't want to tell her that. She, Nyoko, and a handful of others he cared for were still alive; And that's more than he could ask for. "Though the details were sketchy. What happened to her?"

"She thinks she's someone named Valentina...some Russian names that escape me at the moment. Things improved greatly once we fixed the Universal Translater embedded in her. I'm not even sure she understands where she is or what time she's in."

"Makes sense."

"Oh? How's that?"

"She has a unique story behind her, Eve." Saul said, his stare wandering elsewhere. He almost called Eve 'Chava', but caught himself at the last moment. "She's heavily augmented, you know, and how she got these augmentations is a... rather unique story, one I'm not sure she's eager for everyone to know. I know it sounds strange, but perhaps for the first time in decades she's truly her."

His lips thinned. "I've got to go see her. It's my fault."

Nara looked at him, "I know her quite well too. She told me how she got the cybernetics. She told me how she has no previous memory. Now you're telling me, she's reverted back to the girl they kidnapped and the Eve that had been in existence since they brought her in as such is gone?"

"Possibly." Though, as much as Saul knew, Eve's background wasn't supposed to be on the billboards. "How do you know?"

Nara just gave a sweet smirk, "Seems I have some secrets too Mr. Saul Bental." She winked at him. She did hope he had some kind of code of covertness. One that says 'If you can't share, don't pry into other's secrets.' She wouldn't tell him either way, and doubted he would try to bribe her.

"You do realize my job IS to pry into other people's secrets?" Saul returned the wink. "Anyway, I'll visit her. Tomorrow the latest."

"I do want to visit her as well. See if she'll let me scan her more precisely. I have a theory I want to check on." She didn't mention that the Guardian told her something to make her think that the cybernetics were actually repairing themselves. She wanted to see if they were and how well they were doing. IF she could. "Not to mention, I'm very concerned for her. A counselor was supposed to go see her, but..." she sighed, "Well, not that I'm famalair to this Valentina person." After a moment as they silently walked, "But she's famailar to me. She's my friend, Saul. And as lethal as she is, I think she needs me. Or maybe I'm having delusions of granduer. Either way."

"She needs a friend. Friends." Saul corrected himself. "Think of it. Everyone she knew is gone, never to return. Totally fresh and clean start. Clean like a laser wound."

Clean slate, like he tried to give himself when he fled Utrecht. And he almost succeeded. Almost.

"And she needs to be told." Saul added.

Nara frowned as she looked at him, "She's not Eve."

Saul hummed a song Nara never heard. She had no way of knowing that it was a Japanese song Nyoko taught him a while back. Japanese always sounded funny in his ears, but the meaning of the words...

"Ima wa donna ni hanarete mo meguru kiseki no tochuu ni mata mukaiau no darou." He said, as though haunted.

"Saul?"

"Yes?"

"You ok?"

"Sure."

"Then what were the creepy random humming and words...that somehow the UT didn't catch...about?"

"Just the ending of a song."

He turned to face her once more, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Have you ever been kissed in a starship's corridor, Naranda Sol Roswell?"

She was looking rather concerned about the random humming and speaking, but shook her head.

"No."

Saul leaned forward, and corrected that.

****

Because our star revolves without stopping, The sceneries outside the tiny opened window, And the flower I loved, we will surely face each other again, In this revolving miracle, in this sprouting season, We will surely face each other again.

"World's Finest, Interlude - And Now, a Word"

= Unknown Location =

= Latinum-Lane Transmission =

= (Brought to you by Sluggo Cola. Give Sluggo a Chugg-o!) =

Lheud of the Aphuxa Clan grinned happily at the camera as it zoomed in on him, tossing his long hair back to flirt with it. Lheud loved the camera. It was kind to him. It always had been - it was the camera that had helped Lheud become an icon to his people - an underwear model, a successful actor and now (after a little trouble with debt) the host of his own talk show. But then, why shouldn't the camera have been generous to him? He was, after all, the prettiest Nausicaan of them all.

With a tortured smile - for that was the only kind of smile that any of his people ever really managed - the great Lheud faced his audience, which included some of the most prominent members of the galaxy's underbelly, and said, "Good to see you back, Viewer, to another special edition of one of the highest rated of all black market, underworld

shows: 'Gut Check'. I'm your host, Lheud of Aphuxa."

"And today on our show, we have for you the hottest entertainment sensation of this century. His show is so morally questionable, even our network won't run it. It is so illegal, that it is broadcast from a hidden ship that is always moving around, at the edge of civilization. And yet, people everywhere pay premium rates to watch as he and his mysterious partners in show business, toy with the lives of people. A warm round of applause for Nahuel the Vorta!"

Nahuel the Vorta came forward to roaring applause (which was just a little annoying for Lheud, since it was louder than any reception he had ever gotten). The Vorta was a small man with a triangular face, vivid green eyes, and short, wiry blonde hair. As always, the 'Narrator', as the man called himself, was dressed in long, flowing robes of the Vulcan fashion.

Lheud rose to meet him. "Welcome, Narrator."

"The pleasure is all mine, of course," the Vorta responded with a sickly sweet smile, "It's so... so wonderful to be here."

As they sat, the Nausicaan asked coyly. "I don't suppose you'll be willing to tell us where the Event Horizon is now?"

Nahuel laughed the sincere, fake laugh that only the Vorta had truly mastered. "No, I'm afraid that is quite out of the question. I will tell you though that it was a long trip, and the Orion girls I had with me have me rather exhausted."

Lheud chuckled, "Well, you mustn't be used to leaving your own ship.

This is your first interview ever, isn't it?"

"Yes, Lheud, it is at that."

"So why now, what is different this time in your show's history that you have decided to make an appearance in public?"

Nahuel sighed sadly, "Ah, my dear Lheud, if it were up to me, I would be happy to meet with the people of the universe, and give them the gift of... well, me. Unfortunately, the network of my providers is banned by so many worlds. Vulcan, Earth... all of the Federation, in fact.... They seem to think that my program is a little barbaric.

Censorship, of course, is not."

"I thought that was partly because people die on your show. You kill your own actors."

The Vorta shrugged, "Only sometimes - and only when they fail to complete the objectives laid before them. I give all my characters a fighting chance. As for Death... well, that is a part of life and, you know, all great art does imitate life."

"But how do you find your actors then? How do you convince them to be on your show?"

"Fame and fortune, my friend, attract many souls. And once we reprogram their minds a little, they stop protesting. And who out there," he waved dismissively outward, "wanted to see yet more reruns of the BDA? Beautiful but Deadly Andorian, for those species out there with short memories. It was a modest hit, for it's day. But the Network Providers recognized the need to move in a Brave and Bold new direction."

"And just who are these mysterious kingpins of the underworld media?

Inquiring minds want to know."

"They prefer not to bring attention to themselves. And since they are paying my salary, I am more than happy to honor that wish."

"I see. So why don't you tell the audience about this new season of yours?"

"Ah... certainly," Nahuel replied, brightening instantly, as all his sorrow at being misunderstood fell away in an instant, "This season is shaping up to be the best one we've ever had. I finally get the ask the one true question."

The Nausicaan frowned at his guest. "The one true question?"

"Yes. Isn't it exciting?"

"I suppose so," Lheud answered uncertainly, "What is the one true question?"

"The one true question? Why it is simple - well, simple but elusive.

You see, the one true question is simply this: what is the nature of your faith?"

"What?"

"The nature of your faith," Nahuel repeated, "You see... people obsess over, fight over and debate the things that they believe in. They ask themselves about the nature of love, the reasons for misery, and so on.

People keep trying to choose between good and evil. However, none of those answers lead one to the truth."

"Well," the Nausicaan chortled, "I can agree with that. You eat, you fight, you bump uglies, you die. That, my friend, is the truth."

The Vorta gave him a poisonous smile. "Yes... well, you see, that is the truth for you only because of how you answer the one true question.

At the end of the day, you see, there are two kinds of beings in the universe. Those who believe in possibilities, in things unseen... and those who only believe in things they can see, in science, in demonstrable facts.... This is what is at the core of a person. That

- more than anything else - defines who you are, defines all your opinions. Your gods and your demons."

By now, Lheud was so confused by what the Vorta was saying, he decided to stop listening and simply take comfort in the fact that he was having a really good hair day.

Nahuel, however, kept talking. "What do such questions have to do with this story you are watching unfold on my show now? Why bother with philosophy at a time when a Man, nay, a Bat, strikes with fear at evil men's hearts, and a Woman with Burning Eyes charges, unstoppable, into battle?

"Well - let me tell you what this story is about and maybe some of you will understand."

Lheud, who was off wondering if he would be able to convince the Vorta to let him borrow one of the Orion girls the Vorta had, simply nodded.

Nahuel stood and approached the cameras, the glint of inspiration in his eyes.

"This season's story is about Aerv tr'Ahalaen. A man of the Old Ways, from a culture that thrives on passion, devotion, honor and intrigue.

I have given him a totem, a symbol... but no powers. His world is more real now, in this unreal place, than it has ever been." He sliced his arm through the air like a sword, imagining his words cutting as sharp.

"This story is about Elissa Skylark. A woman of science, part of a discipline that values logic, precision, explanations and facts. I have made her a goddess. She can look through walls. She can fly with the birds. She can crush diamonds. Wonder is within her grasp," he exalted, clenching his fist before him. The arm fell to his side as his deprecating voice fell in reverie. "And yet she is blind to it because she is searching for explanations."

He spun on his foot and addressed the host once more. "But more than anything else, this story is about the true question. You see, both of them, quite obviously, have come up with different answers to it. The nature of their faiths is very, very different. However, each of them is incomplete. Neither answer to the true question is perfect... and by being together, in the situations I am putting them in, they will learn that. They will appreciate each other more, learn from each other, and grow. This season, in essence, is a love story."

Lheud perked up at that. "There is going to be live sex on your show?"

Nahuel sighed. "Perhaps, perhaps not. That is not what I meant by a love story, Nausicaan. What is love but our relationship with people who help us realize ourselves? That is what my two characters share - the potential to be great lovers by helping each other become complete.

And those who watch my show, those who fall in love with it, will also, perhaps, grow and learn. Through me, my viewers will become complete. I am, after all, the Narrator."

"So what you're saying is that there may be sex on your show this year?"

Nahuel sighed and bowed his head, utterly defeated. "Yes, yes - it is entirely possible. So stay tuned. The best is yet to come."

= End Transmission =

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