"Taking Charge"

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer

Liaison Department NPCs

Warrant Officer Gaius Vorkalen, Diplomatic Security Specialist (Risan)
Chief Yeoman Talvan, Leading Chief Petty Officer (Vulcan)
Legalman 2nd Class Igrilan Kival, JAG Aide (Andorian)
Diplomatic Specialist 2nd Class Mary-Grace Stuart, Diplomatic Aide (Terran)
Crewmember Ilista Tomali, Research Assistant (Bajoran)
Crewmember Diloz, Research Assistant (Denobulan)
Professor Margaret Bethune, Consultant (Terran)

---

It all seemed to happen in a blur. One moment, John Richardson was sitting around the conference table in the Liaison Department's conference room on deck 17. Red Alert Sounded? the CO relayed orders through the comm. system?.the Federation was at war.

War. Richardson couldn't believe what he had heard. Just like all Diplomatic Officers, his clearance was well above top secret. He had access to full daily intelligence briefs. Hell, he SUBMITTED daily diplomatic updates to the Intelligence Officer so that they were included in the briefs. This was unfathomable?

"Sir," mumbled WO Gaius Vorkalen, "what are your orders?"

Richardson's eyes closed as he shook his head momentarily. McAlister was called to a staff meeting, meaning that Richardson was the ranking officer on deck. Twenty-One years of Starfleet Marine Corps training kicked in, and the Liaison Corps Staff got their first glimpse of 'Gunny' Richardson.

"Gaius," said Richardson, his voice cool and crisp, "make sure that every person in this department is issued a Type-2 phaser, and I'll expect to see them within the next 5 minutes. I don't care if you have to strangle the NCO at the armory to get them."

"Aye aye, Sir!" barked Vorkalen as he walked purposefully out of the conference room.

Richardson began walking towards the door of the conference room and to the main office area, speaking loudly as he moved. "Chief Talvan, begin encryption of all diplomatic files, codename 'Zoo', and restrict access appropriately. Petty Officer Kival, I'll expect a brief for Lieutenant McAlister on the current use-of-force orders in 15 Mikes."

"Sir," Kival stammered, "15 minutes certainly isn't enough time for me to show my best-"

"No arguing, Petty Officer!" blasted Richardson, his body turning violently around to face Kival. " The process is simple, Mister. We're at Red Alert. Tora Tora Tora has just been sounded!. When I give a dat gum order, you follow it. Is that understood?"

Kival stood there, shocked. Normally, Richardson was one of the least formal members of the Liaison corps staff. The young Andorian had never seen this side of the man.

"Understood, Sir" Kival managed to mumble, still lost in his thoughts. He headed towards his desk to put together his brief.

Richardson entered the main area of the Liaison Corps offices with his aide, DS2 Stuart, his two crewmembers, and Professor Bethune walking closely behind. " Petty Officer Stuart, take Ilista and Diloz with you and put together a packet on our aggressors. I want to see the names of each government's key players, and any interesting legislation or diplomatic issues in the last 90 days. I'll expect it on my desk in 45 mikes. Move."

The three young ladies nodded their heads in unison, and followed Stuart into the main research room.In the middle of the office, Richardson stood alone with Professor Bethune.

"Doctor Bethune, I?this shouldn't have happened. I'm going to need to discuss what intelligence our people put together with you. I'm going to need a second opinion before I start briefing the senior staff."

Margaret Bethune looked at Richardson somberly. She had been a Starfleet Officer nearly 60 years prior, and could sympathize with the difficult position Richardson found himself in.

"We'll find answers, Doctor Richardson. Now war starts on a whim, and no war ends that way either. It is the job of this department to remind folks of that sometimes."

"Barking Dogs' Bite"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion
Battalion Commander

Major Pete Shaw
Battalion XO, 2nd Platoon CO

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

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

Pete walked down the corridor of of the Galaxy and turned into the Intelligence area. He ignored the protests and walked right up to the Chief Intelligence Officer's office door. He hit the chime as some anaylist was protesting in his ear.

Not so much as a pace behind him, For'kel followed as well. He wasn't particularly interested in the crewman's pleas next to them, and acted as if he didn't hear although he quite obviously did. In some ways, it was like zoning out before the big battle... your mind became fixated and locked on one goal.

Saul bolted right up as the door sled open. It was standard procedure that any unauthorized personnel who enters the Intelligence center is escorted by an intelligence crewman. That even included the ship's executive officer, as Iniara found out the last time she visited Saul, let alone some marine grunt. Shaw WAS technically escorted - Lali was running after him, begging him to wait at the door, and Seren followed them with mild interest. Saul noted with appreciation that the middle-aged Vulcan informatician had a phaser shoved into his belt.

First day back in the office and already trouble, he thought.Even Zev would have survived longer without incident.

"You're in violation of ship's protocol." Saul informed him, as he passed by him and exited the office, "And we're not sitting here. Come."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Pete said as the pair followed Saul. When they entered a small conference room, Pete started, "I hope all you intel people on this ship are not like that. She was quite annoying."

"Next time she'll be annoying with stun setting." Saul murmured. He led them onto the small meeting room by the entrance to the center, which was reserved for people who weren't too welcome. The marines, by their Normandy-like invasion into the privacy of the intelligence department, definitely were considered 'unwelcome'.

Saul's fake smile as the room's doors sled close behind them, was nothing but cordial.

"Gentlemen, you're new to the ship so I assume you weren't aware that free access to the intelligence center is restricted to intelligence personnel and Captain M'Kantu only. Now, how may I be of service?"

"We knew. And we wanted to make sure you knew where we stood on this whole intelligence gathering thing. It's simple really. We still take on the same belief that we did last time. And so help us if we find you have in fact installed these devices already or planning to."

That did not erase the smile off Saul's face.

"What is your job description?" He inquired.

"To shoot things, to kill things, to protect things, but NOT to spy on things," Pete simply replied. Fork was being quiet, which concerned Pete.

The intelligence chief also glanced at the Colonel, wondering when the Stagnorian is going to start playing good cop. At the moment, Forkel seemed intent on letting his XO play 'the missing link'.

"I am a member of Starfleet, fighting in the forces which guard the Federation and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense." Saul quoted. Hopefully the two marines recalled Starfleet's code of conduct. "Tell me Major, have you ever entered a battle without knowing what you're up against? Threat assessment, resistance assessment, enemy weaponry report, updated cartography, online tactical updates, information about the tactics and psyche of the opponent?"

"Yes, we have." For'kel iterated calmly, providing 'cover' as it were for his XO. "It's not the best way of doing things, and certainly not the way we prefer to do it, but we've 'been there and done that' as the Terran saying goes. You of all people should appreciate the fact that you never truly 'know' what you're up against until the battle occurs. That being said, the Marines are not a strategic intelligence gathering asset for a logical and well reasoned premise... we actively engage in combat. How many secrets would be lost if an enemy decided to take POW's? Analysts and active gatherers have a separation via handler for a reason, to prevent any part of the puzzle from knowing too much and jeopardizing the operation entirely."

For'kel was never a student in intelligence, but he knew the basic premises of cellular structures and had access to the general records in the LCARS. He, like anyone else, could deduce things. "Setting legal and treaty enforced restrictions aside, using combatant, front line troops as anything but scouting or tactical intelligence assets is a mistake. And we haven't yet touched the moral implications."

Saul nodded. Shalom good cop.

"Despite what you may think about us - or me - I don't view this entire ship nor the battalion as an extension of SFI. However, it is my job to make sure that you, the Captain of the ship, and the United Federation of Planets will know what they're up against. In my opinion, the more Major Shaw here knows about the enemy, the easier it is for him to kill things and protect things. That's MY job description, and it requires creative methods."

The intelligence chief leaned back in his chair. "I'm not going to make requests like I did on Romulus every Monday and Thursday, but I do ask you to keep an open mind and not reject my propositions automatically."

"The reasons your Romulus 'request' was rejected, as I've explained before, was because your objective was completely and totally at odds with the mission I was assigned." For'kel folded his hands together. "I'm not going to claim to be adept at intelligence, but 'my' mission was to organize and defend the planet of Romulus and her people from a foreign invader. 'You' of all people I would think would know about Romulan suspicions. There is something to be said for skills in public relations, even in the Marines... proving every stereotype correct would have severely hampered any of our efforts. The reason we were effective, simply, is because we earned their trust. That, above any impersonal intelligence your devices would have provided, is an advantage... one that I would think a good intelligence officer would be keen to exploit."

Pete stayed back, letting Fork take the lead. Pete wanted to list off a few dozen engagements where there had been little to nothing from SFI, but figured it wouldn't be a good idea. The Intel Chief seemed to think he was winning for saying he wasn't going to ask the marines to do the same thing he had wanted them to do on Romulus. Only time would tell him how wrong he was.

"Can't say I don't see your point, Colonel. I still think we've missed a golden chance to gain important information with minimal risk, but that's just an opinion and it isn't more valid than yours. So, I don't see any point on dwelling on the past."

"Well in that regard I think your people also have another saying. Those who fail to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it. I do not have the inclination to argue continuously and debate the subject repeatedly. Whatever is going to be said, should be said 'now'." For'kel looked over at Shaw and nodded, giving the go ahead for his argument.

"Let's make this clear," Pete finally said, "we will NEVER support an intelligence gathering mission. You have your own people for that. If you don't have the people here then call your boss. We are a marine unit. We are not some lap dog of Intelligence. And I swear, if we ever find anything, and I mean anything that looks like it's used to spy on us or using us to spy on the enemy without coming to us first, that you will not leave the room I find you in alive. I've been to prison and I have no qualm to going back."

Pete paused, "and if I remember right, Intelligence has its own ways to getting into places they are not welcome. So in reality, there should be no need to use our men."

Saul slanted his eyes toward the Colonel.

"When you lead your hound back to the kennels, Colonel, please explain to him in a language he can understand that I am not one of the things he thinks he is supposed to kill. What I *am* is the difference between heaps of disoriented, injured or dead marines and five platoons of healthy men with a couple of scratches after a successful mission. Totally denying any possible collaboration is a two way road. Consider that when you head back to the barracks."

He looked back at Shaw. The major was not familiar with Saul personally, so he did not know what a direct death threat meant for anyone who spent his adolescence on Utrecht III.

"A barking dog doesn't bite.", He added with a sly smirk.

"Are you suggesting you won't do your job if we don't go above and beyond ours?" For'kel crossed his arms. "Because Lieutenant, I'm sure your superiors would love hearing that, probably as much as a Court Martial tribunal would love hearing about how you let Starfleet officers, Marines or otherwise, die unnecessarily. Talk about a failure of your loyalty oath." Fork wasn't normally the type to threaten that kind of sanction... as a matter of fact the only other time it happened was against he who's name dare not be spoken. "Cooperation is a grand thing, Lieutenant. Like I said at Romulus, if in the course of ordinary operations we come across valuable intelligence, you're more than welcomed to it. Anything else will simply have to be decided on a case by case basis." After all their raids on Gendine, he come to realize a squad of Marines was a valuable asset to a number of Starfleet departments, security, tactical, or in this instance intelligence. "When you have a proposal worth considering, we will listen. Until then, it's best to avoid speaking in such scarcely shaded threats. A barking dog doesn't bite and all." Fork offered the same 'sly' smirk Saul had shot before.

"Good. That's all I am asking.", The intelligence chief replied.

"And how is us spying on someone, during a battle going to help us in said battle? Unless we have good intelligence before hand we wont know a damn thing. That is what you do. You and your creeps go before us and do your intelligence game. We send in a few scouts to find out exactly where their positions are. We then send in everyone. You see that progression? Intelligence, few scouts for last minute troop placements, marines. Not Marines, then scouts, then Marines," Pete said without yelling. He really wanted to reach across the table and strangle the man. But figured with a few witnesses he wouldn't be able to get away with it.

"Gathering intelligence during a battle - or a regular operation - will help you in the next battle, even if it doesn't have immediate Tactical value." Saul explained. "You're not a paperpusher, so I'm sure you don't think in strict terms of dry responsibility division. Think outside the box, or refer to your military history library for details about SAS or Sayeret Matkal, two elite military units from 20th. century Earth who excelled in intelligence-related OPS along with regular operations."

Saul spoke fast. He felt that he and the colonel reached some sort of fragile understanding, and didn't want it to be ruined. This was the point to leave the cards on the game table and walk away.

He stood up, elevating himself from the chair with his single healthy arm. "Gentlemen, I believe your message was delivered fully, and I wouldn't want to waste your time."

After the two marines left, he gathered his team and instructed them not to open the doors to anyone without his authorization, and definitely not open up to any other marines. He was about to order that no intelligence data will be provided to the marines when Lieutenant DarkSky rushed toward him, heralding a small PADD.

On the screen, there was a single word repeated three times, a word that dismissed any thoughts Saul had on making the marines' lives difficult.

His single healthy fist balled, knuckled turning white.

"It has finally began." He said, and anyone who was around during the battle of Havras knew what Saul was talking about.

"Silence is Golden...and Safe."

Lt Jebidiah Baile
CO 1st Platoon
USS Galaxy

&

Lt. (j.g.) Faylin McAlister
JAG - Liaison Corp
USS Galaxy

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

Welcoming a break from feeling not so groovy, McAlister thought it was in her best interest to announce the 'joyous' news to the father of her child. Smirking, she boldly walked into the barracks, avoiding the glances she recieved. "Where's Baile?" Her voice asked firmly to no one inparticular.

The marine looked up from the padd he was reading. "The El-tee?" He nodded briefly towards the hangar. "I think the El-tee came back a few hours ago."

"Great...." She stated with an overly sarcastic tone to her voice. Making her way into the hanger, Fay placed her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes, and surveyed the area around her. "Baile!"

"Ma'am." a voice behind her called out. "This is an off-limit area. Marines only."

"Okay...I'll leave if I can just locate Baile." She stated smirking still.

The flight engineer checked the padd in his hand. "He's booked a simulation, but if I were you I'd let him run it.. " he cautioned her in a low conspiratory voice.

She lowered her voice. "If you were me? I'll fight my own battles....thank you." Pivoting once again, she found the holodeck and sighed. Fay had to admit that she was in no condition to enter, the safety of her little one came first. Leaning up against the wall, she waited until he emerged.

It didn't take long until the doors opened and a fully geared Baile stepped out. His face was painted dark and the black goggles covered the silver eyes that had replaced his own. He sniffed the air, stopped and turned around to look at Fay.

"Thought you'd like to know that your going to be a daddy." She stated smartly. "Have a good one."

The marine didn't say anything at first. He didn't even move. It took a few seconds before the words had registred and the synapses in his brain started to fire again. "You're saying that like it should be something I should care about..." he replied and turned around to walk back towards the barracks.

"Okay. Then I'll send you a document to sign away your parental rights."

"Whatever.. " he waved his hand in dismissal and continued walking.

Fay just shook her head before turning to head the opposite way. "At least one of us cares." She muttered.

Baile stopped and turned around. "Well.. I'm sorry.." he replied dryly. "Of course I'll help you.. I'll fetch your slippers and scratch your back.. how does that sound?" Truth be told he didn't really know what to say.

"Honestly? I'm just telling you out of common curtesy. I used you, got what I wanted....a child.... Know why I chose you Baile? Because I knew you wouldn't care about a child. Easy. Find a guy that doesn't care, and I'm on my own. So...thanks....for everything." She harshly spat as as her hand protectively went down to her abdomen.

"And here I thought it was because of my charming personality.." Baile chuckled.

"Spare me. It certainly wasn't for your personality...or your size." She hissed, eyeing him up and down.

"It's not long.. but it smells.. " he replied with a grin. Then the grin faded. "You should have chosen someone else, the caring part aside."

"Yeah, so I recall rather....regretibly." Fay sighed. "Everythings fine with the baby...genetically...that's all I'm concerned about. Besides.....mix a chameloid and a marine...and the kids bound to do great things."

She paused. "Maybe...... I've already set up future counseling appointments...that's a given."

He pulled off the hat and the goggles he wore. The light stung slightly in his eyes but it faded gradually as he tapped into his instincts. "I've been on steroids, geneering, gentherapy and God knows what else for the last ten years. You should have chosen someone else."

"What's done is done. And...you already stated you want nothing to do with the child...so why should you care?"

"I don't." He started walking towards her. Instincts of old started to wake up inside of him.

"Well....good..." Fay stated quietly, watching him as he approached her. Her eyes slightly widened at his approach.

"You know what I am." It was a statement.

"Yes....so?"

"Does anyone know that I'm the father?"

"No." Fay stated simply.

"Keep it that way. It will be in your best interest."

"Yeah, okay. Any other requests?"

"Lieutenant Branwen believes that there's a good person somewhere inside of me.. you and me both know better.. Try and play games with me and I will kill both of you. Is that understood?" Maybe not the most common request by a father to be, but then again he wasn't common.

"Spare me the macho crap...will you Baile? We know each other's kind...what we are capable of...what we do. At least respect me enough to not threaten me. Nothing's deadlier than a mother protecting her child. You attempt to kill me or this child, I will finish you....with child...or without."

"Respect you?" Baile replied. Strangely enough he didn't feel any anger, not the kind he had expected. "You come down here and throw it in my face, knowing I won't care, thinking you go it all figured out, got ME all figured out. You dragged me into your little games and if you had me figured out you would have known that is not a good thing to do. Now you're in my game and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about that. All you had to do was say - hey, knock me up." His finger released the safety on the rifle. "Instead you had to resort to tricks and games after which you tell me that I should respect you?! Respect is earned. Not demanded."

Her head raised definatly as she heard the safety click off. "I don't play games Slick. All I've heard from you is threats...threats that you are not willing to back up with any actions because of the protocol of Starfleet. Just like that safety you just unclasped. What are you going to do? Shoot me? Shoot the wall, shoot my kid? Or just wave it around to attempt to scare the poor defenseless little JAG? You are going to do nothing...cause if you did, you'd have so many people on you...." Fay stopped, realizing that it just was not work it any longer.

A mental switch flipped inside Baile's mind. The furnace in his soul flamed up, white and furious. His face didn't display any of it. It was calm, almost serene. The marine took a tiny step towards the holodeck doors which opened and then his arm blurred, catching Fay by the throat. He spun her around as if she was a ragdoll and threw her through the door arch and followed as fast as he possibly could. He moved in after her, his arms blurring with the speed he moved. The rifle was flung on his back, but the knife was now in his hand. Her body glowed in the darkness of the room and the blade of the knife seemed as if it was made of pure starlight. The tip of the blade found its mark underneath Fay's chin, causing a tiny drop of blood to trickle out. "Stella.. You're not the first mother I've killed.. nor will you be the last." he said flatly.

Blacking out was the easy part, for the force to which Baile threw her back was enough to render her motionless. She could not respond, except for ragged breath that came in spurts from her slightly opened mouth.

Killing her would be so easy. So very easy. He could see the soft spots. They glowed in front of his eyes, calling out to him. "I once warned you that if you played hardball with me you'd have to step up and see just how far away Kansas really is.. "

Her head moved slightly, rocking to the right, finally coming to rest against his arm. It fell backwards slightly, at the same time that her eyelids began to flutter revealing white orbs. A long, shallow breath escaped her drying lips. Blinking once, her dialated pupils outlined by soft green color presented themselves for a sheer second as Fay tried to speak. "Bai......" With no warning, her head flopped to the side opposite of her arm with her eyelids slowly closing.

"Consequential Evidence"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister
JAG

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer

Location: Marine Training Holodeck

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

Fay had been breathing, shallowly for the past thirty minutes. Each breath grew lighter than the last as she lay just inside the corner of the holodeck. Her body, usually graceful and lithe, was presently contorted in a gruesome manner. The extent of her injuries where unknown consciously to her. Subconsciously, her brain held the knowledge that her body was bruised and battered.

Her survival mechanisms were in motion, if just to keep the new mother alive to provide a warm chance for her infant to live. For a mere moment, the nerves in her left hand convulsed, permitting her fingers to twitch involuntarily, as if to signal help in some morose manner. Yet, all the movement just resulted in a gentle scratching of her nails up against the holodeck wall.

---

"Chief!" Richardson barked as he walked over to Talvan's desk in the center of the Liaison Department offices.

"Sir?" mumbled Talvan in an I'm-an-uninterested-Vulcan sort of way. "What can I do for you?"

"Chief, I was wondering if you've seen Lieutenant McAlister. I was supposed to meet with her five minutes ago, but she hasn't shown up. That's really not like her."

"True." said Talvan curtly. "I'll check right now Doctor." Talvan's fingers flew over the PADD he was holding. "She seems to be in the Marine Training Holodeck, Doctor...although..." Talvan paused momentarily, and his left eyebrow shot up in a look of curiosity. "Sir, the Holodeck is not currently in operation, nor has it been for the past 11 minutes. Lieutenant McAlister has not moved in that same period of time."

Richardson shook his head slowly. That certainly didn't make any sense. Why would she be in the SFMC training holodeck. He knew she was a martial arts enthusiast, but there were open spaces for that all over the ship.

"Chief, I'm going to go down there and see if she's alright." John moved quickly towards the doors of the office, but paused momentarily. "Oh, and Chief, could you find out who was using that holodeck last?

Talvan nodded his head. "I can sir, but it will take a few moments. I'll need to contact the SFMC administrative Sergeant for that information.

Richardson nodded appreciatively. "Thanks Chief. I'll be back in few minutes."

---

Another involuntary muscle twitch, this time in her right leg, caused McAlister to stir ever so slightly. With a feminine groan, her head moved ever so slightly to the left before the pain overcame her once again, causing her body to slump towards the wall. Her mind registered that a door of some sort had opened, yet she could not turn her neck or open her eyes for some reason. To call out for help, was not an option.

---

The doors to the Turbolift slid open and Richardson entered "Marine Country." John was greeted by a large painting of the Eagle, Galaxy, and Anchor insignia of the Starfleet Marine Corps. John smiled, fondly remembering the night on Qo'noS when then-Staff Sergeant Richardson had that honored symbol of brotherhood tattooed on his right bicep.

"Semper fi" Richardson whispered to himself as he exited the turbolift and made a sharp left. John exercised nightly in Marine Country with an NCO-friend from his Starfleet Academy days, so he knew the 'lay of the land' quite well. As John approached the holodeck, he was stopped by an armed Lance Corporal.

"I'm sorry Ensign, but this area is restricted to Marine personnel only."

Richardson cringed at the Marine's sarcastic use of his rank. Of course, Richardson conveyed his annoyance with a smile instead of an angry glare, and casually patted the young Marine on the shoulder.

"Well, thank you Lance Corporal." Said Richardson with a particular emphasis on the 'Lance' in 'Lance Corporal'. "While I certainly appreciate your viperous guard of this area, I just need to check the training holodeck for a friend of mine."

The Marine shook his head adamantly. "Sir, rules are-", the Marine stopped himself mid-sentence. "Sir, have I seen you down here for PT with SGT Williams?"

Richardson smiled at the young man. "Every night at 1800. The Sergeant and I served together with the 3 23rd."

The Marine nodded his head slowly, and quickly looked around the empty corridor. "Well sir, I don't think it would be an issue if I went with you to the holodeck. No one is supposed to be there now anyway."

"Outstanding!" said Richardson, and both men walked up to the holodeck doors. Richardson tapped control panel, and the doors slid open. Richardson's eyes widened in horror.

"CORPSMAN!" Shouted Richardson into the empty corridor. He turned quickly to the Marine escorting him. "Get me a fucking corpsman, Marine!!!"

The sound of his voice brought her around slightly. Her eyes still rested against their will under her eyelids that felt sealed shut. Executing the motion of swallowing, Fay found her tongue sticking slightly to the roof of her impoverished mouth. Taking in a gasp of air and dislodging the muscle, her lips cracked open as her tongue darted out to attempt to supply the barren skin with moisture.

The patchiness of death had started to invade her, first with her lips, then mouth, then vocal cords, making it difficult to speak any words with audible clarity. "Ja....Ja?" The letter was devoid of wetness, causing the sound to quietly cry dessicated within the hollowed walls of the room.

"Fay, Fay don't say anything. Just relax" said Richardson as he was crouched at McAllister's side. Richardson's field medical training wouldn't do him any good here. Faylin needed serious medical treatment. He looked behind him, but neither a Corpsman or the Lance Corporal were anywhere to be seen.

John placed his two fingers to Faylin's neck to try and read her pulse. It faint sporadic. That was it. John's right hand slammed into the comm badge on his chest.

"Richardson to sickbay, standby for an emergency medical transport.Lieutenant McAlister is in serious condition in the SFMC Training Holodeck!"

John hardly finished his sentence before Faylin disappeared from the emergency transport. A female voice spoke frantically through Richardson's comm badge. "We've got her, sir!"

John stood alone in holodeck, a mixture of anger and confusion. A few moments later the Lance Corporal ran into the holodeck with a corpsman in tow. Richardson simply waved them away, and both young men exited the room. John followed suit, and began walking quickly to the turbolift. He tapped his comm badge as he walked.

"Richardson to Chief Talvan"

"Talvan here Sir. I heard what happened to the Lieutenant."

Richardson thought he could hear a sincere tone of regret in the Vulcan's voice. "Chief, who was in that Holodeck with Faylin."

Talvan was quick to respond. "Sir, Marine 1st Lieutenant Baile was alone with her, Sir. He seems to have exited the holodeck, leaving the Lieutenant alone." Talvan paused. "It would be logical to assume he was the individual that attacked Ms. McAlister."

Richardson froze in the corridor. He had heard of this Lieutenant Baile, of course. A former member of the Crows; an exceptional soldier. His personal file read like something from a holo-novel.

The son of a bitch was going to burn.

Richardson was filled with an intoxicating rage. His hands shook with anger, and his vision blurred momentarily. He focused his thoughts and spoke loudly, hoping that any Marines walking down the corridors would hear his words

"Chief, have a security detail meet the Lieutenant and place him under arrest. I'll personally vouch to the security officer for the necessity of this action. Please forward all of the information you've found to the security offices If anyone needs me, I'll be in sickbay."

"Contingency Planning"

Major Pete Shaw - Battalion XO
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO

* * * * * Main Sickbay * * * * *

Looking over the PADD Kimberly scrolled down the long list quickly. Modern medicine meant that many ailments and injuries were easily treatable, and usually meant no more than a couple of hours of discomfort before the patient could be released, more serious issues could also be dealt with quickly, but the recovery took longer. The Major it seemed had, in his career in Starfleet certainly seen more than his fair share of action, and had managed to accumulate an impressive record of sprains, strains, broken bones, infections, combat injuries and radiation burns.

Raising an eyebrow as she read the list Kimberly found herself wondering briefly if there was a crew member aboard who had a spotless medical record, ~ Maybe some lowly crewman third class fresh aboard from training? ~ she contemplated.

"Well Major," she said aloud as she walked back to the biobed, "despite your hazardous profession and lengthy list of past injuries, I'm happy to say you're fit and cleared for duty." Smiling as she slid the PADD into the bed side holder she nodded to his jacket, "Go ahead and get dressed, but before you leave I was wondering if I may have a word with you in my office?"

"With or without the jacket," he grinned. "Sure, I will be right in."

Indicating a door on the far side of the ward, "Come on over when you're ready." She offered.

A few minutes later he was changed. He really hated physicals, but as she has obviously pointed out, he had a very hazardous job, something that Jenna had pointed out any number of times. He went the short distance to her office and went in, "so, what can I do for the CMO?"

"Have a seat," she offered politely as she moved to the replicator, "Drink?" she asked as she ordered herself a coffee.

He took the seat, "well, its 10 in the morning still... so a nice beer is out of the question, I will just take some 7-up Orange Juice," he told her getting a puzzled look back. "I programmed it into the computer, it will know."

Ordering the Majors drink she watched it materialise, looking over her shoulder as the hum faded, "So, how have you been settling in?" she asked.

He took the drink as she handed it to him, "not to bad. Working with a lot fewer marines then I am used to, but we are doing some interesting things that will hopefully help in the upcoming conflicts." He paused and then looked back at her, "so, what can I do for you?"

Collecting the drinks she walked back and placed the cups on the table, shuddering slightly at the mention of 'upcoming conflicts', ~ Makes it sound like there's no option at all, can't anyone around here hope for the best? ~ she wondered silently. "Two things," she said as she sat, "Not about your physical though," she assured him, sipping the coffee, "I was going to come and have a chat with Colonel Arvelion, but since you're here anyway and time really is of the essence right now." Picking up a PADD she scanned it briefly and looked over it, "I assume before transferring aboard you looked over the roster for the Marines aboard, did you by any chance get to look at their medical notes you have on file?"

"Not really," he told her. "I try and stay away from those files. Why?"

"Well, it's partly about those that I would like to mention something. I'm well aware injuries in combat are a part of the job, indeed for most of your assignments more or less expected, it's the training injuries I'd like to discuss." Sliding a PADD across the desk she rotated it for him to see, "I know you're fairly new aboard, so this isn't your fault at all, and there's always a danger of injury during strenuous training, but we need to look at trying to cut this figure down."

"I am willing to try anything you have in mind, but we do have a job to do." He paused a second. "What's your idea?"

"I do appreciate the need for rigorous training Major, especially considering the nature of our missions and current threats, however, the humanoid body is a quirky machine, and needs some care. I can heal almost any injury you can inflict on yourselves in training, within reason of course," she added with a raised eyebrow, "and normally the Marine in question will be back on duty within a day or so at most. However, repeated use of dermal regenerators, osteogenic stimulators, neural stimulators and stimulants have a cumulative effect on most species."

"In English Doc," he told her, "I don't speak Medical."

"The body begins to forget how to heal itself properly," she explained simply. "Natural healing is important, without even realising it we damage our muscles, bones and body as a whole every single day, and as we sleep our bodies repair themselves." Taking a sip of coffee before continuing Kimberly leant back in her chair and relaxed a little, the Major at least was willing to listen it seemed, unlike previous marines on other ships who lived up to their nickname of 'Jarheads'. "If we use too much artificial healing the body begins to depend on it, and the natural healing process slows, resulting in increased fatigue, lowered strength, reduced endurance and an overall reduced efficiency."

"What do you suggest? Cause all of those points are something we don't want to deal with. We try and keep our Marines in top physical condition, and... top mental condition," he said almost as an after thought. "But we do have to push the marines, and we have to push them hard. We also can't have them sitting out for more then a day so they can heal. Any more then a day and marines start to get bored, their bodies become bored, and we just lost a week of training on that marine."

"I appreciate the need to push your people to ensure top performance," Kimberly agreed with a nod, "and considering what's happening and what everyone is preparing for I know it's only going to get more strenuous for most of us, however, putting it simply Major, there's few people on the list here," tapping the PADD again, "if they walk in over the next month with the same injuries over and over again, they could find themselves healing naturally, no quick fixes. It's either that," she added seeing the look on his face, "or they could well end up certified unfit for duty, and then they'll be off duty for much longer."

"No offence doctor," Pete started, "this is becoming a nuisance. I can't start taking people of training." He looked down the list.

Shaking her head Kimberly sighed, "I'm not trying to be deliberately annoying Major, nor am I trying to tell you or the Colonel how to do your jobs, but as the CMO I have to address this 'before' it becomes an issue to worry about. I'm not asking you to stop training, or to stop pushing them, but we need to address the training injuries, how I will have to leave up to you as they're your people and you're responsible for their training."

"Some of these injuries are preventable," he sighed. "I always tell people to stretch before a work out, not to eat too much, but it doesn't seem like people listen. We can start pushing it, and if you can keep me appraised as to who comes in with repetitive injuries we can take further actions. Some of these just shouldn't be happening. A pulled hamstring? Common, this guy's been a marines for five years. He shouldn't be getting pulled hamstrings."

"Agreed," Kimberly said with an accompanying nod, "some of the injuries here could be easily avoidable with a little care and a few precautions. On the note of healing and injuries, treating your people quickly and hopefully helping prevent some of this, the other matter I wanted to discuss was field medics."

"Field medics?"

"Well, as you know we were due a few transfers from the USS Miranda and one is Petty Officer Maxwell, his speciality is emergency trauma as you may know. After looking at his record I had the idea of putting him in charge of an EMT unit once he's aboard and we've had a talk." ~ Once I find the time, and if he's still alive, ~ she thought wistfully, recalling the briefing she had received on the current situation. "The point here is I'd like to arrange for someone to spend time with you and the marines, they'd train occasionally with you and the security teams, he and his team will then be on standby when you're on missions, or if needed accompany you, also, as he'll be with you during training, he can help try and reduce this list."

"Well, we do have some EMTs that have been trained by the core from day one. I am not to willing to have a Fleeter walk into combat situations." He paused and thought a few minutes. "Though I suppose trying it out couldn't hurt. I don't have final say, but I can speak with the Colonel about it."

"I know the situations you often get sent into are highly hazardous, but after what happened on ch'Rihan, there were damn few medics on the surface, and a lot of people came back with injuries any competent medtech could have treated with a field kit. I'm not suggesting they be trained to your standards, but enough so they can work with you, know enough to stay out of the way, or know when to run."

Pete shuddered at the thought of Romulus. "Yes, I remember that all to well Doctor," he said. He still had dreams of the firefights. If a Doctor found out they would probably diagnose him with a case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. "I agree on the pretence that they have to drill as reservists. Two weeks of solid drilling, after that one day a week, and months a month for a full week."

"That sounds good to start with. If you'd like to have a chat with the Colonel about all this, and Goddess willing I'll speak to Mr Maxwell once he's aboard or another volunteer, we can sort out the details once we get his okay if that's all right?" Kimberly asked, glad he was open to the idea.

"That works perfectly."

"Excellent, if the Colonel agrees I'll have someone report to you to arrange a training schedule." Glad that this meeting had gone well she relaxed a little, "Thank you for your time Major."

"Along Came A Kid...And A Fox"

With:

PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell
Lt. Thyago Carniero
Lt. Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
Ensign Artim Shivar
Pilot "Vixen" Elrin

This takes place prior to meeting up with Jaal Jaxom et al.....

For the umpteenth time, Max ran his K-Bar along the bulkhead. It was an unconscious act, just as he kept lunging ahead at every juncture, as if he expected something to be there. Cowboy and the Brazilian exchanged looks as they observed this behavior.

"Um... You know they tried to vent these decks to space, yes?" Thyago said, "I mean, like, just five minutes ago. We stopped them. Remember?"

Without looking, Max simply replied, "Uh-huh."

"Well, you're, um, being weird, ta me entendendo? 'Cause, like, they're not going to be down here after that."

Whatever world Max was in quickly disappeared and he now regarded Thyago with a sheepish expression. "I hear, ya. Sorry. Mind must've been on a little trip there. Hey don't these things have like a major engineering core or something like that?"

He shrugged. "There's probably a central engineering office."

"Well, I was thinking we should make our way there and see what damage we can do to the Hydrans. Is that possible?"

"Maybe, but Ah doubt it," Nathan chipped in. "Engineerin'd be one of the Hydrans' top priorities. They've prob'ly got more'n a few shock troops stationed down there just in case anyone lahk us decided to mosey on in and muck things up fer 'em."

"You got that right"

As if on cue two more officers rounded the corner though it must have seemed like the strangest pair ever to the uninitiated. The child-like Artim, still in civilian clothes clucthing a dead Hyrdans disruptor rifle in one arm while steadying him self on the fox-like Elrin's tail. The Miran had taken a glancing disruptor hit to his left knee which was still enough to have him limping as well as a dislocated shoulder.

Max quickly took his thumb off of the FIRE button on his hand phaser. "Whoa! Didn't expect anyone to be in this section."

"We had the same thought initially but, yeah, there were Hydrans, lots of em. Shot Artim here up pretty good. Managed to take down a couple but we had to run back up the duct we popped out of. Oh, I'm Elrin by the way but his kind call me Vixen,", the vulpinoid's eyes glancing at Cowboy as he spoke in a rather nervous tone.

"I'm Max, this is Thyago, and that's Cowboy," was the reply. Max didn't feel the need to say more as he was scanning the area around them for any more 'surprises'. He took note that the NCO that was with them had vanished a while back.

"How come the ten year old gets a gun?" Thyago asked, who, despite all they had been through so far, remained unarmed.

"Because he's not 10. Actually he's closer to 410. Ensign Artim Shivar, Galaxy." Artim replied gruffly still favoring the injured leg.

"Welcome to the party, kid," Max greeted gruffly. He turned to Thyago and tossed him a hand phaser. "I still have this Hydran fusion rifle so there. Now you're one of the boys, eh?"

Nathan leaned toward Thyago, pointing at the barrel of the phaser. "The burnin' ray of death comes outta this end, buddy," he joked. "Try not to point it at any of us when you start pushin' buttons."

"Oh, you laugh now," Thyago said, "but little do you know I actually failed basic marksmanship. Twice."

Somewhere in Max's mind, he wonders if it was such a hot idea to give the Brazilian his hand phaser. "Sure, tell me after I give you the gun," muttered Max.

Cowboy winced in agreement with the medic and turned to the newcomers again, taking a look at Artim. "Max, Ah know we don't have any medkits on hand, but is there anythin' you could do to help him out? He won't do us much good in that condition if we have to move quickly."

Max tore off one of his sleeves, turned it inside out, and wrapped it around the wounded knee of Artim. Next, he tried an acupressure technique he learned from his old friend, Roger Vernikoff. Applying a specific amount of pressure to two locations above and below the knee, a few moments passed before Artim was visibly relieved of most of the pain.

"It's not permanent, but it'll help for now. The sleeve is just to keep the wound from getting dirtier than it already is. If we can find a Medkit, even an emergency first aid one, that'll help a lot more."

"Thanks, but would someone be so kind as to pop my shoulder back in place, I've been a doctor long enough to know its dislocated.", Artim said as he tested out his knee. Still twinged a little but it would do. Hearing Artim's request, Elrin came over and looked at the injured shoulder for a moment and said,

"Um...what do I do?"

"Let the person who knows what he's doing do it, but thanks for offering." Artim replied with a slight grin.

Nodding, Max positioned himself perpendicular to Artim's arm. He grasped the arm above the elbow at the bicep, and just below the elbow, ensuring that the arm remained straight. "You might wanna bite down and hold your breath," he advised.

"I'll be fine", Artim replied

With a smooth practiced motion, Max quickly tugged, raised, and finally popped the shoulder back into its socket. "There you go, Doc," he said as Artim tested his arm out, "good as new. I'll send you the bill later."

After moving the arm around a bit and feeling vastly less pain, Artim nodded and said,"Not bad."

"I've been doing this for a long time, Artim. A few things are quite second nature to me now." Max didn't feel the need to add that he was a medical student. The very thought clouded his vision for a moment. Darla and Conner...

"Alright people, we need to keep moving. Thyago, Cowboy, any ideas?"

"Well, how about the computer core?" , Artim suggested as he hopped to his feet, slinging the Hydran weapon over his uninjured shoulder. "I mean, its only down a couple decks and I can't think of a place where we could do more good. Besides, something just wasn't right about how this attack went down. I mean, we had absolutely no warning and couldn't fight back. The answer to why might be down there.

"We could also try and get to the fighters." Elrin suggested half-heartedly. "We might be able to get away..."

"No good," Cowboy said, shaking his head. "Fighter bay's completely locked down. Ah tried to git down there mahself when this whole thing started, to try and help fight 'em off."

He nodded to the diminutive Artim. "Ah think Shorty's got a good idea with the computer core. If it's below us, the Hydrans prob'ly haven't gotten there, and we might be able to fix whatever they did to screw our systems up."

"Well, then let's get there," piped up Max, already looking for a way down.

"Yes sir," Nathan uttered, smirking back at the rest of the group as he followed the noncom.

"Hydran Interludes"

Deep Space 5
Aboard the Royal Hydran Light Cruiser Slarrardo

Prince Thufi XXXIV heaved great cleansing breaths, allowing the sweet green vapors of the methane filled bridge to fill his three lungs to capacity.

~~The pungent smell of success~~ the blobulous Hydran mused to himself as he settled lazily back into his command couch with a faint squeaking of leather.

"Propulsion, " He burped the command, "1/3 sublight, and come up leeward of the Federation Frigate.......Weapons, stand by on Hellbore and Fusion Cannons.....Shields doublefront."

"Aye Prince." The hulking crewman honked their aknowledgements, bending their fleshy bodies low over glowing control panels, casting strange shodows across the methane shrouded bridge. The RHS Slarrardo was not the biggest ship in the Hydran Armada, but Prince Thufi drove her like the expert seaman that he was. Though the hapless Prince was only 5,723rd in line for the throne, there was still a feeling of Royal pride in his handeling of the Light Cruiser.

It wasnt his fault the Royal Family of Hydrax was so huge.

The attack on Deep Space 5 had been a stunning success. More so than had been expected.

When the sleek blue hull of Slarrardo had dropped out of warp with the first wave, the Federation station was already crippled from within.

Merciless volleys of Hellbores and crackling Fusion cannons had only further sealed her fate, robbing her of power and life support.

RHS Slarrardo itself had the honor of transporting in the first waves of Royal Marines before withdrawing to establish a perimeter on the outskirts of the system.

Nothing was to be allowed in or out.

"Frigate at 10,000 Borples my Prince!" A crewman honked excitedly. "She's making a run for warp speed to escape."

"Hellbores in volley fire." Prince Thufi replied. "Wait for a shield breach and then send in the fighters....target weapons and propulsion."

The tactics were conservative perhaps. The Light Cruiser outgunned the Federation Frigate by half again, but after the defeat at Romulus, Thufi had learned not to take the bipeds for granted.

"Maintain range of 5,000 borples or more," he blorped. "We'll take this one down from long range."

He neednt have been so cautious.

The first volley of Hellbore bolts crackled over the Frigates screen, seeking out and exploding against the weakest shield face.

The frigates power flickered in the darkness, as she lost headway, and then was spun by the flash of micro-torpedoes crashing against her fallen shields.

"3rd Fighter Glorp reports direct hit on enemy engineering section." The science officer burpled.

Caught up in the excitement of the chase the XO turned to his Prince and bowed, "We've disabled them your Highness, shall we stand by with the Royal Marines for boarding?"

"Belay that." Thufi dismissed with a wave of three hands. "Most of the Regiment is still aboard the Federation Station, and we need to conserve our strength."

He quelled any dispute with a klorping glare. "This war is just begining my brave Glugs. Plenty of opportunity for glory to come."

He waited to let the words sink in before turning back to the glowing displays on his comand couch.

"Propulsion bring us about on the lowered Federation shield.......Transporters stand by with Tri-Cobalt space mine." Thufi pondered for a moment, "Beam it directly into their Engineering Room."

There was an excited series of blurbles as the crew leapt to obey, and Slarrardo spun her blue hull in space to deliver her deadly cargo.

A flash of brilliant white light cut across the green methane filled bridge of Slarrardo causing Thufi to blink his three eyes momentarily. ~~~Ah yes....the pungent smell of success.....~~~~

"Explain to me"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Eve
Intelligence Technical Officer

His steps echoed across the empty corridors of deck 39. The rhythm of his pace was irregular, probably due to the extra weight of the device that encased his left arm and the backpack that was connected to it with two capillaries.

He crossed the double doors, passed the security measurements successfully, and eventually ushered to the cell by the NCO on duty.

Inside lay a single bed, with what appeared like a broken man-size cybertoy on it. The toy turned her head, regarding him with her violet eyes. The shimmering of security restraints shimmered across her limbs and body explained why she did not get up.

Saul tried not to shudder as he saw just how grim Eve's state was. Stripped down to form fitting shorts and a sports bra, the damage to her body from the past 24 hours was painfully obvious. The synthetic skin shrouding her arms was all but gone, revealing damaged and inoperative bundles of artificial muscle, scorched silver bones, and the occasional crackle of discharge as a wavering strand of muscle brushed against her restraints. Her organic side wasn't much better. Bruises covered the majority of her exposed flesh was mottled with various shades of bruising, a combination of the decompression and that last battle in the shuttlebay. The internal damage had been repaired already, but the superficial was deemed by someone as 'placing the physician under unnecessary risk when the survival and health of the patient is no longer in question'.

This did not, however, bring even the slightest hint of compassion to his face.

"Eve."

"Yes, Sir." Her voice wasn't the usual chipper, nor her previous emotionless drone.

He stepped forward so she could see him. A sharp gesture toward the security guard made him vanish behind the force field, and Saul Bental activated the small device in his pocket. Anyone recording the conversation would enjoy some lovely white noise on playback.

"You betrayed me." He prompted. "You disobeyed a direct order from me. You disobeyed it after I explained the reason behind it to you, something I am not obliged to do. But I still did it, and you still disobeyed. And you were stupid enough to do it in front of a witness which has no reason whatsoever not to report the incident."

"I know." She knew if she said anything more he'd cut her off, regardless of the content of her statement.

Another officer would have felt struck by what Eve did, but not Saul. He used the words 'betrayal' and 'trust', but he knew that anyone could fail him at any moment. Zev, Nyoko, Captain M'Kantu, even Naranda - all of them could do something like Eve did at any moment. That is the way the universe worked.

It doesn't mean Saul was going to let his technical officer get away with it.

"I can see two alternative reasons for what you did." He continued, placing his hands on his hips in a typical command stance. "One, you weren't in control of yourself, which means you're unstable and extremely dangerous. Two, you were in control; You heard my command and heard the sense behind it, and chose to disregard it. By doing so, you practically said 'I hear what you say but I know better'. Guess what? You didn't. Just look at you now. If you think that Mann couldn't be stopped without you being in danger 'equal' or not, you're too foolish to serve on my staff."

He resisted adding 'And with Raynor on, that means a LOT.'. Unlike Zev, he knew when it was NOT the right time.

Eve closed her eyes. "I willfully disobeyed orders." That alone was probably enough to get her sent off somewhere where no one would find her. "I knew the risks involved with engaging Mann again, just as I knew there was a distinct likelihood of my not surviving an engagement with him."

Saul grimaced.

"Explain to me in simple words why you left that room when I told you not to."

"Given my standard combat protocols, the durability of my cybernetics systems, and our previous engagement, I believed that I was the only individual capable of taking Mann, short of the Marshal himself." She opened her eyes and looked into Saul's. "Given the information I had on hand and my operational capabilities at the time, I believed that if I were to engage Mann there would be less chance for him to engage in senseless slaughter. Less collateral damage. His attention would be engaged solely with eliminating me and everything else short of self preservation would be secondary."

"Did you think that I did not consider the advantages and disadvantages of sending you to engage Mann directly?" Saul demanded.

"Between yourself and Lieutenant Raynor, every possibility of every situation is considered." She was sure not to mention she felt that the more scatterbrained contingencies were almost always of Zev's creation. Saul was the levelheaded and realistic one. "Had the gravity remained in operation I'd like to say I would have stayed put, followed orders and gone back to bed. I can't say for certain because that didn't happen."

The intelligence chief said nothing, letting her boil in her own steaming soup bowl for a little while longer.

Eve continued "When the gravity went out I had a decision to make. Mann was hurting from his null atmosphere exposure, disabling gravity enabled him to continue to move with effectiveness. While our personnel are given instruction in zero-G operations it s more often for familiarization than practical application. I am intimately familiar with operating in zero-G, as well as capable of walking without grav boots." She detailed the magnetics within her limbs for a moment before continuing. "My ability to operate is unhindered, gravity or no. The decision was to let security and marshals engage Mann, and quite possibly fail. Or I could take the fight to him, distract him enough to open him up. Given the casualties and damage done already I could not in good conscience sit idly by."

Saul finally spoke as her words died. "Has it, at any point, occurred to you to say all these things to me and let me decide?"

Eve opened her mouth to reply but soon shut it. She really didn't have an answer for that question. Normally she ran in a 'servant' mindset, so to speak. Do what you're told and let other people do the thinking - that's their job not hers. She had willfully stepped out of her normal, proscribed pattern of behavior, a pattern that had worked well, and people had died because of her.

"I am not 'requesting' you to trust my judgment." Saul continued, seeing that he won't get an answer. "I am telling you to operate ONLY according to my judgment from now on. Not only because I am your direct commander and these are the rules - god knows this fleet has Admirals with the common sense of a retard Bolian Hill Ferret - but because your judgment and logic are flawed and inferior. Good conscience, you say?"

There were two PADDs attached to the side of his backpack with molecular bondage. He detached one of them, and pressed on it. Several faces appeared.

"These are the people who were injured or died as a direct result of your decision to operate alone. I heard you cried for Mann. Did you cry for them?"

Eve nodded. "I cried for them, and I felt pity on Sleitor. His life was not of his own choosing, he didn't want to be this way." She looked at the pictures, tears springing once again to her eyes. With her hands immobile she couldn't wipe them away, only let them fall. "Those are people I failed, and I cannot replace what was lost. Nor will I try to avoid the consequences of my actions."

"Screw the consequences. Why do I feel like I'm talking to a 17 years old Russian girl who think she's right but is ready to get slapped by dad?!"

He bent toward her. "You were a gamble. I put a nice sum on you because I thought the profits were worth the risks. I turned away peers who felt discomforted working with you; I sweet-talked the Captain after the Barzan incident; I am the only thing that stands between you and some very high-profile people at SFI tech-ops who want to dismantle you for reverse engineering. I knew that with your modifications and dual personality you could go haywire on me. But never, EVER did I think that you were going to just turn away on me and disobey a direct order."

"You're losing your memory if you think you're the only thing standing in SFI's way when it concerns dismantling me, Sir," Eve said. "You were before, I admit that, but now all SFI can do is make me run." She still didn't know the actual operational extent of her teleportal, but if her indications and readings were correct, judging by her two uses she could go a ways with a single hop.

"Unless you can beam several light years at once, you're displaying overconfidence again."

Saul wasn't going to reveal to her all the precautions he took, and intended on taking, to constrain Eve. He knew that she could easily release the restraints and beam away. He also knew that he could get her if he had to, just like he could have gotten Mann if not for his condition.

Miramon once told him that the most frightening people were those who remained calm. He was right.

"I bet on you and lost, Valentina. How could I - why should I - bet on you again?"

"Gambling ..." Eve sighed. "I can't guarantee my reactions to stimuli. No one can. I have never knowingly shirked in my duties to this vessel, my crewmates, Starfleet or the Federation, until yesterday." Closing her eyes she turned her face away from his. "As for betting on me? Knowing what I know now I probably wouldn't have in the first place."

"Is that so."

"When I first woke up I was fine. A little cold, sometimes heartless, but stable. Predictable. Ever since Romulus and then the Borg I've been ... unstable, emotional. I slaughtered hundreds of people on that Cube, and I tried to again yesterday with Sleitor.All in the name of protecting my ship, my family."

"You did it the wrong way. There are five strategies I can think of right now that would have higher chance at stopping Mann with much less risk. Most of them rely on your ability to track him, and I could use none of them because you walked out on me."

She nodded wordlessly. She couldn't dispute that.

"Valentina, assuming that no Borg are involved, is there any way you can assure me that you will never go on your own like that without talking to me first?"

Eve lay there in silence for several minutes before opening her eyes and looking back up at him. "I won't make a promise I can't keep," she said slowly. "But I'll do my best. And ... if you could do something for me in return?"

"What is it?"

"Don't call me Eve again, Sir."

"Taking Chances"

Ensign Sharzevashi zh'Rin

** Somewhere in the corridors of DS5 **

Sharzevashi zh'Rin stepped silently through the corridors of the station. It could have been abandoned for the lack of people, but she knew that was not the case. Most were dead, which she had discovered the hard way. If she were caught, she would likely be next among them. Suddenly she found herself wishing she'd taken the time to send at least a final message to her bondmates.

Now, she could not get any communications out, so even if she composed a message, none would ever see it.

Perhaps it had been foolish to leave her quarters, especially without changing back into uniform. Though, she had heard a patrol nearby, and felt departing would increase her chances of survival. As it was, she had barely made her escape ahead of the aliens. She did not recognize them, but it was clear confronting them in her current situation would be a sure path to death.

She made no sound as she moved on bare feet, and the pale gown of woven lavender davyon flowed behind her. Whether she'd find another living soul who wouldn't kill her on sight was a question predominant in her mind.

Atop her head, her antennae probed forward. She sensed the subtle rise in air temperature and ducked back. Moments later, a troop of armored soldiers trudged through the corridor that cut across the one she traveled. One stopped, looked in her direction, but then moved on. Shi let out the breath she'd been holding and thanked whatever deities might have been watching over her, and kept the alien from using a scanning device to seek her out.

Crouching low, Shi edged foward and looked after the soldiers. Making a quick decision, she started off in the direction from which they'd come. Her heart was in her throat as she moved, but she kept her focus. If only she had a phaser or a tricorder. Something to either help her defend herself or maybe find others who might still be alive.

Glancing around a corner, she spotted a turbolift. She approached cautiously, but paused before she could get close enough for the sensors to detect her presence and open the door. They'd be able to see that it was in use, and the idea of the turbolift doors opening into a group of waiting, armored aliens was about as unappealing as ideas could get.

The junction opening wasn't far from the turbolift, so she flitted through the shadows until she reached it. A subtle change in the air around her alerted her to the presence of more aliens. Working quickly, she popped open the hatch and slipped into the accessway. Pulling her gown in behind her, she pulled the hatch closed behind us. Closing her eyes, she gave a final tug and it clicked into place.

She waited for the panel to burst open as a dozen weapons pointed in at her. The time ticked on, and the panel stayed firmly closed. With a deep breath, Shi crawled back to the junction where ladders went up or down while accessways led to either side.

Where would any fellow crewmates go? The wrong choice would definitely lead to a bad place, but if she guessed correctly, she might find herself with comrades and a much better chance at surviving the ordeal.

She continued to the ladder for several long minutes, knowing that she would be truly terrible at the human games of chance. Though, in a hand of one of their card games, the final outcome was only ever a chance to live or die in extreme cases. She chewed her lip as she debated, weighing the options and the chances of where she might find others. Shalla would know, for certain. Things like that were her forte.

"Time to take a chance," Shi whispered to herself. And with that, she made her choice and hoped it was the right one.

"For the Glory of the Sovereignty..."

Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja,
Fleetmaster of the 1st Sovereign Echelon

Gral'Meshketh N'fth'nor,
Shipmaster of the IHV Light of Vindication

Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van,
Shipmaster of the IHV Hammer of Progress

with...
Qasar'Mereth Nal'ti'vey, War Coordinator, IHV Hammer of Progress
Qui'Meshketh Tar'ji'let, Tactical Officer, IHV Hammer of Progress
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, CO, Deep Space Five
Commander Delia Albert, Chief of Staff: Rear Admiral Proctor
Lt. Commander Hasmonian, Chief of Station Operations
Lt. Commander Jarn Narebi, Chief of Strategic Operations
Lieutenant Lela Narebi, Chief Science Officer
Lieutenant JG Sheila Harrison, Communications Officer
Lieutenant JG Brian Frost, Operations Officer

and mention of...
Qasar'Mereth J'oolak'k, Shipmaster of the IHV Shield of Resolution
Prince Thufi'nu'ak, Shipmaster of the RHS Slarrardo

****
CIC, IHV Light of Vindication

The Ulhazi were fools.

Gral N'fth'nor knew it now, as he had then. As he always had. Even when the Queen's Matriarch had insisted to the Supreme War Council that her plan would work, that it was, in her own words, "without fail," he had known that it was doomed to just such as that fate: Failure.

The Lyrans. The Lyrans had been their downfall. And their pride. The planetary commanders and the Ulhazim keepers of their Star-god had expected that once crushed, their old enemies would capitulate to defeat without a whimper. How wrong they had been.

The treacherous Lyrans, the long-distanced blood-cousins of the ferocious Kzinti warriors, had proven themselves more resilient than the Hydrans had initially thought. Though, without the help of the Hew-mon, Captain Holmes of Starfleet, they would never have become so bold.

It was N'fth'nor who had warned the Queen of the dangers of not killing Juan Holmes and replacing him with a T'Kith'Kin clone when they'd had the chance. It was N'fth'nor who had told the council the Ulhazi were blinded by their fanatic zeal and self-righteous sense of purpose. It was *him* who had insisted that they must first strike the heart of the Federation, not the Rihannan empire.

'But with the fall, comes the victory,' the Gral thought silently to himself. Although defeated at the Rihannan homeworld and disgraced by the Lyran armada, the alliance was still strong. Fresh clones were being produced en-mass now, thanks to advancements in the cloning and gestation processes. Under their new leader, Aval'thot Gor, the Breen (the more trustworthy of their allies) had increased their slave legions almost an hundred fold. And the T'Kith'Kin...

Well, that was another matter.

*Bugs,* that's what the hew-mons called them. And for once, N'fth'nor was apt to agree with them. He didn't trust them; he never had, and he never would. Something in his senses told him that the alliance was unequally balanced to their favor. That, and the fact that they had all but refused to share any of their more exotically advanced forms of the bio-technology from which they based their technologies. An ally that didn't share, he couldn't trust.

"Report!" he barked suddenly, startling the helmsman whom he was standing behind. The young female--a first-year Qui newly minted from the Sovereign Academy--suddenly straightened in her sensory pedestal, her two peripheral eyestalks remaining focused on the holochron display in front of her while flipping the mid-eye backwards toward N'fth'nor--lowered, of course. She dare not look him directly in the eyes, for he would take it as a direct challenge.

"Twenty-million klee and closing, Shipmaster," she reported succinctly, the curved beak of her maw chittering in precise military dialect. With her central eye still facing the Gral she bobbed her head slightly while adjusting the ship's course; she did not dare turn away her sight from him until he had made it clear that he no longer required her attention.

"Resume, Guider," he said, releasing her to continue her duties. At 20 million klee they would reach their objective in little more than 15 tricics. More than enough time, really. By that time, two of the Echelon's finest ships--the heavy carrier Hammer of Progress and the new escort carrier Shield of Resolution--would have disabled the hew-mon base's outer defenses and laid waste to the skeleton of ships left to defend it. And he, Gral N'fth'nor, Shipmaster of the Light of Vindication, the newest in the Hydran fleet, would sail unchallenged to claim his prize.

"Master," his Communications Officer interrupted. "Shipmaster Kedr'ni'van signals: The station was caught unaware and is now defenseless; defending ships are being pursued and dispatched. The Resolution has launched fighters, and the Slarrardo is preparing to secure priority targets."

*Slarrardo,* the Gral thought to himself, his yellowed beak clicking sharply with annoyance. The commander, Prince Thufi, was an unrequested annoyance for N'fth'nor. But the Monarchy had insisted that someone of Royal descent be involved in such a historic venture. It was their way. As much as he loathed the Prince's presence, he didn't have much say in the matter. It was made very clear to him by the War Council that if he were to be given command of the Vindication, even with his past records of command (and perhaps, because of), he would have to accept certain...stipulations.

'Let him run,' N'fth'nor thought. 'If he gets shot to pieces, one less heir to the throne to deal with.' Even if the Prince *was* more than 5,000th in succession.

No, he decided, he would not worry himself about such trivialities. 'Let her deal with it,' he thought, referring to his Fleetmaster. Though Thufi was royalty, he still had to answer to *her*, just as the Gral did. Just as everyone did.

"Signal Gral Kedr'ni'van," he commanded the communications officer. "Tell him--"

"Tell him to report his progress to me immediately when we exit Slipspace, Gral," a voice, full of command varnish, cut in. Immediately, all those standing on the central command dais, including N'fth'nor, bowed, lowering their eyes to the ground. "Qelereth," N'fth'nor responded, knowing he was tempting a strike from her for even speaking before she had requested it, "Excellent timing. I was about to signal you. We were to drop from Slipspace momentarily. Both the Progress and the Resolution have--"

Again, she cut him off. "I am aware of the current aspects of attack, *Shipmaster* Nor," she said acidly. It dawned on N'fth'nor that she had probably been standing in the command antechamber this whole time, watching, no--*spying*--him.

Moments, seeming eternities, passed in silence, the Gral and his deck officers still ceremoniously bowed in discomfort. The Qelereth said nothing, each steel-blue eye scanning the Light of Vindication's compact and ultra-efficient CIC. Nor dared to raise a peripheral eye--slowly, slowly, though--watching her. To say they had gotten off on bad footing was, as the hew-mons would say, "an understatement."

He respected her position--the *what* that she was--but wasn't yet sure of the *who.* Rumors in the Echelon had been buzzing, ever since her dramatic takeover of command of the Sovereign Fleet's prestigious 1st Echelon after the disaster at ch'Rihan. Some said she was simply an opportunist. Others believed she had used political favors. Still, darker rumors formed saying she was secretly an Ulhazim; a?fanatic.

Even others claimed she had surreptitiously forged her own pact with the T'Kith'Kin--to serve only their own twisted purposes.

Either way, he didn't trust her.

"In range of objective, Fleetmaster," the young Guider suddenly reported, breaking the tenuous silence. The Qelereth quickly strode over to the master display in the center of the command dais, releasing the crew from their protracted bowing.

N'fth'nor caught her eyes as she bobbed her central stalk his way. The fleet was hers to command, but she respected his place as Shipmaster. Quickly, he moved to a position opposite her at the master display table. "Plot Slipstream exit solutions, Guider," he instructed the Qui. Turning to his Deck Officer he quickly barked, "Action stations, all sections prepare for exit into battle conditions."

The DO clicked his razored beak loudly once in acknowledgment, then moved off, shouting orders to various Section Leaders.

"Exit vectors plotted, Master. Guidance stands-by to execute on your command."

Gral N'fth'nor's beak opened, then paused. Daringly he raised all three stalks eye-to-eye with the Qelereth, who held his gaze icily with her own. 'Make her *think*.' He derived a perverted satisfaction in making her guess his intentions. Then, just as she was about to say something, he quickly spoke, "Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja, the order is yours." That had surprised her.

"Execute," she clacked, still locked with Nor's gaze. "Execute," she repeated again, barely above a whisper.

The Gral finally broke eye contact, having stayed his ground without her reaching across and tearing his hearts out for borderline insubordination.

'And now the gambit begins,' he thought to himself.

****
CIC, IHV Hammer of Progress

Surely the Nerru'vir smiled on the Sovereignty this day.

And surely they smile on me as well, Gral Kedr'ni'van mused as he watched the chaos of battle unfolding on his master display. The Pantheon of Progress had often smiled on him in the last year since his humiliation over Mirusa VI, protecting and providing for him, despite the desecration that the degenerate Federation had committed upon one of their holy sites under his watch.

The Nerru'vir'im would always protect those who truly served the Sovereignty. And it was for that reason that he would always revere them. Progress knew no ambition, no treachery, no wrath. Only forward thought and forward action.

Returning home in disgrace, with the great carrier Hammer of Progress battered and in many ways broken, Kedr'ni'van had not expected to survive, much less retain his position as Shipmaster. But the War Council had praised his actions, spoken of how valiantly his ship had fought in defense of Hydran culture, and promoted him.

For the aging veteran, it had been even more humiliation, to reward such ignominious defeat. But his service was not at an end, and so he had continued, fighting past the disdain of his fellow shipmasters and remaking his name in combat during the Rihannan campaign. And in time, his thoughts progressed to the point of understanding the War Council's decision. He had given them the key to their opening gambit, and a powerful weapon to boot.

Admiral Proctor.

Glaring out the forward viewscreen at the approaching space station, the normally reserved Kedr'ni'van allowed himself a moment of unabashed pride. The emotion was all the more powerful for the fact that he normally denied it. Pride was the downfall of the decadent Federation... of Admiral Proctor herself.

Just as he had promised her, the time had come. He had passed his trials. Hers were only beginning.

"...And the Life of the Queen!"

Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja,
Fleetmaster of the 1st Sovereign Echelon

Gral'Meshketh N'fth'nor,
Shipmaster of the IHV Light of Vindication

Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van,
Shipmaster of the IHV Hammer of Progress

with...
Qasar'Mereth Nal'ti'vey, War Coordinator, IHV Hammer of Progress
Qui'Meshketh Tar'ji'let, Tactical Officer, IHV Hammer of Progress
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, CO, Deep Space Five
Commander Delia Albert, Chief of Staff: Rear Admiral Proctor
Lt. Commander Hasmonian, Chief of Station Operations
Lt. Commander Jarn Narebi, Chief of Strategic Operations
Lieutenant Lela Narebi, Chief Science Officer
Lieutenant JG Sheila Harrison, Communications Officer
Lieutenant JG Brian Frost, Operations Officer

and mention of...
Qasar'Mereth J'oolak'k, Shipmaster of the IHV Shield of Resolution
Prince Thufi'nu'ak, Shipmaster of the RHS Slarrardo

****
CIC, IHV Hammer of Progress

Glaring out the forward viewscreen at the approaching space station, the normally reserved Kedr'ni'van allowed himself a moment of unabashed pride. The emotion was all the more powerful for the fact that he normally denied it. Pride was the downfall of the decadent Federation... of Admiral Proctor herself.

Just as he had promised her, the time had come. He had passed his trials. Hers were only beginning.

"Shipmaster," Qasar Nal'ti'vey called for his attention. The War Coordinator turned away from her sensory pedestal at the aft of the command deck and bowed her three stalked eyes in deference to him. Kedr'ni'van turned to face her, and his beak stretched wide, the Hydran equivalent of a smile. Nal'ti'vey had just arrived, and had yet to learn that he did not enforce the rules of interaction, finding them a hinderance in combat.

"Report, Nal'ti'vey," he replied, "And be attentive to your station. Do not bow so low that your duty cleans the dirt from the deck."

"The Shield of Resolution reports that the infidel starfighters have been completely destroyed," the War Coordinator replied, her flesh turning a darker shade of purple, flushed with embarrassment at his admonition.

"Our plan progresses," Kedr'ni'van nodded in approval, turning away from her and back to his master display. "Inform Qasar J'oolak'k that the remainder of the Infidel forces belong to her... and to Prince Thufi'nu'ak."

"Shipmaster?" Qui Tar'ji'let, the tactical officer claimed his attention next, her tone questioning. On any other ship, her defiance would have seen her dead. But this was not any other this. This was the Hammer of Progress, named and flown in honor of the Nerru'vir'im. And like the Pantheon who had allowed a temple to fall to ruin so that their servant might grow, Kedr'ni'van did not allow his pride to deprive him of those who could help him.

"Go ahead," he replied, not even looking up from his plot, where he watched intently as a Federation ship, a Saber-Class Light Cruiser designated the USS Daisho, was transformed into a rapidly expanding cloud of flame and debris as the Royal Hydran Ship Slarrardo flashed past, hellbores blazing.

Qui Tar'ji'let turned her head to take him in, crouched over the master display. Kedr'ni'van was a mystery to her, a warrior paragon from another age. Wise beyond knowledge, cautious and slow to trust. Trust that she had somehow gained by being the only member of the Hammer's command team who had stayed with him after the disaster at Mirusa VI. But even as a confidant for him, she did not understand his actions now.

"Why do we not join the fight?"

"Because we do not have to. Our enemies now reap the harvest of their overconfidence," Kedr'ni'van explained, looking his young apprentice in her three eyes, as she deserved. "Even without the Prince, the Shield of Progress is more than enough to eliminate this pathetic defense."

"The true path here lies on the station. We cannot be distracted," he explained, eyes flickering up again, at the image of Deep Space Five. Let the zealot and the sycophant have their war. All glory to the Queen of Hydrax and the Star-gods, he thought sourly. Anything to move up a space in line.

Qasar'Mereth J'oolak'k and Prince Thufi'nu'ak. The dual thorns in his side. J'oolak'k, a simpering slave to the idiot Ulhazi, whose unthinking faith in the 'invincible' star-beasts had brought the invasion of ch'Rihan to ruin and one of their gods to death. And Thufi, who thought himself a war hero. How like the royalty to meddle in naval affairs.

They were nothing compared to a true servant of the Sovereignty. They were a burden. But they were his burden, and he would shoulder them, and make them useful. Kedr'ni'van's beak clicked shut in irritance. He was becoming distracted. Devoting himself more fully to the task at hand, he called out, "Range, Guider?"

"50 klee and closing, Shipmaster."

"Excellent. Take us to port, out of the sensor blind," Kedr'ni'van replied, and almost before the command had left his mouth he could feel the ship shifting. The Guider knew his duty. "Let them see us coming, for all the good it will do them now. Let them know the name the of their destroyer. Deck Officer, report on the status of the station."

"Shields, offline. Weapons systems, offline. Docking systems, offline. Communications, offline," the Gi manning that station reported, each 'offline' sounding out the inevitability of the station's fall.

"Tar'ji'let, would you like to join me in avenging Har'ja'fer?" he asked his weapons officer. This attack was personal for them. When last they had met Admiral Olivia Proctor, their science officer had been brutally cut down by the cowardly human, on top of her other crimes against the Nerru temple.

"If it is my duty, Shipmaster," she replied.

"Follow me. Nal'ti'vey, the Hammer is yours to wield. Bring us in to 10 klee and commence transport," he ordered, leading Tar'ji'let to the hatch at the aft of the command deck.

"As you command, Shipmaster," the War Coordinator replied, taking his place at the master display.

Kedr'ni'van's beak stretched in another smile as he left the command deck, this one far more predatory. Girded in battle armor, he and his apprentice joined the attack force. In one of his three hands was a far more literal hammer, symbol of Nerru'Shikhal the Waymaker, leader of the Nerru'vir.

Now, Admiral, we will see who the vermin is.

****
Starbase Operations, Deep Space Five

Meanwhile, in the central command center of Deep Space Five, a heavy silence filled the room. None of the seven officers in the room spoke, made mute by the complete and utter helplessness of their situation. Even the normally gregarious 'Commander Hasmonian found himself unable to so much as grunt.

"Admiral? Should we be doing something?" Lieutenant Sheila Harrison, the communications officer, asked. Her voice wavered, it was so choked with fear. The hissing of the static from her earpiece was the only noise in the room.

Olivia Proctor, for perhaps the first time in her life, had nothing to say. No demands. No orders. No threats. She simply stared in disbelief at the image of the Hydran Heavy Carrier, the familiar hammer and starburst symbol etched on its bow.

"The Hydran ship has stopped moving, Admiral," Commander Delia Albert, her chief of staff, stated obviously. They all watched the enemy ship stop moving, hanging ominously over them in space.

Brian Frost, the operations chief, stood up so quickly that he knocked his seat over. The clattering shattered the silence, and everyone in the room turned to stare at him. "I... uh... shouldn't we... ah... have phasers?"

The words had barely left his mouth when flashes of blinding violet light filled the room, resolving themselves into Gral Kedr'ni'van, Qui Tar'ji'let, and six members of the Hydran Sovereign Guard. The veteran shipmaster shouted, before he had even finished being reconstructed, "For the glory of the Sovereignty!" Swinging his mighty hammer, he crushed the life from Commander Albert with a single, terrible blow.

"And the life of the Queen!" Lieutenant Commander Jarn Narebi joined the Hydran attackers in their cheer, leveling his phaser at the station's science officer, an unjoined Trill named Lela Narebi, his wife of many years.

"Huh...Husband?!" Lela stamered, trying to force a response. But her body just refused to move, refused to recognize what was happening to her. They had been happy together for so many years. How was this happening?

But there was no recognition in Jarn's cold eyes. "What husband?" he deadpanned, before vaporizing her and the chair she sat on. The carnage continued as the Sovereign Guard set about butchering what remained of the Admiral's staff. Sheila Harrison fell to the deck, her neck twisted at an odd angle. Frost, who had broken the silence moments before, shrieked as he was run through by the war spear of Qui Tar'ji'let.

The sounds of the slaughter cleared, leaving Admiral Proctor alone with the Hydran boarding party and their sleeper agent. The corpse of Hasmonian, unfortunate enough to have been standing in the middle of the four guardsmen, was now unrecognizable.

Leveling his hammer at the still speechless Proctor, Gral Kedr'ni'van grimly pronounced her doom. "The die has been cast, Admiral. The fates have spoken. Do you remember these words? The wheel of progress has made its full revolution. You will pay for your crimes and tremble before the unyielding, uncaring justice of Nerru'Nadat the Vindicator."

Proctor, at last recognizing the alien she had insisted was no more than mud beneath her spit-shined boots, shuddered. "You..." she finally managed.

Kedr'ni'van allowed himself another, predatory, smile and threw her own words back at her. "Do not fear, Admiral. I'm sure you will be a very nice handbag."

Livia Proctor shuddered again.

****
CIC, IHV Light of Vindication

Glorious. Kedr'ni'van was true to his training and his word: The infidel station was powerless against the armada's assault. The Federation were such fools, the Qelereth thought; their ships, though swift and agile, were no match for the heavy weaponry and massed fighter tactics of the Hydran arsenal. Mr'en'sja could feel the words of the ship's blazon ring in her mind and in her soul: Light of Vindication. Truly, this day, vindication would be theirs.

"Space normalized, Shipmaster," the Qui Guider informed from her sensory pedestal. Though low in rank, she was adept and nimble at the Vindication's complex guidance controls--she moved the ship to the periphery of the battlespace, the command cruiser's massive flank overshadowing the dorsal spines of space station Deep Space 5.

From the plot display, she watched on as both the Hammer of Progress, commanded by the more experienced Kedr'ni'van, and the Shield of Resolution both released multiple phalanxes of fighter craft--swarming masses that made quick work of overpowering the Starfleet capital ships.

The Qelereth also watched as the Slarrardo--such an oddly-named ship for one of the Royal Guard--made multiple speed-runs, ducking, weaving, and cutting up ship and station with its multitudinous array of Hellbore cannons. How typical, she thought. The Prince was bent to prove his mettle, pushing his light frigate to the points of its tolerances. No matter, she would not blink if he was lost to his own foolishness. Still... he had a purpose to serve.

"Signal the Hammer of Progress, Gral Nor," she commanded suddenly. "I wish to speak with Kedr'ni'van personally."

For the second time since she had set foots on his CIC, N'fth'nor paused. 'If only,' he thought. If only. If it hadn't been for the mess at Rel'kessan, and later with the Dithparu, *he* would be commanding this Echelon. "As you command, Fleetmaster," he replied instead. With a flick of one of his tendriled fingers, he signaled the comm. to open a channel to the Hammer of Progress.

The image of a young female Hydran in the uniform of a Qasar'Mereth, insignia of a war coordinator proudly emblazoned on the sleeves, appeared on the screen, instead of the expected commander. ?Nal'ti'vey bowed her head respectfully to the Fleetmaster. ?"Apologies, Fleetmaster. ?Gral Kedr'ni'van is currently on the station awaiting your pleasure."

Sja tempered the growl that threatened to escape her maw. Deliberately, she spoke to the Vindication's communications officer. "Redirect." A moment later the image blinked, stabilized, and formed into that of the rugged face of Gral Kedr'ni'van. "Shipmaster Van, you are away from your charge. Teach your Qasar to handle priority communications succinctly, or I shall have her bonded." With that out of the way, she thrust all three eyes forward, almost touching the holochron display. "Status, Gral."

On the screen, Kedr'ni'van lowered his eyes reverently as well. ?His disdain for the nuances of protocol could only go so far. ?Responding quickly, he grabbed Admiral Proctor and pulled the boxy woman into sight of the Qelereth. ?"Our purpose here is accomplished, Fleetmaster. ?The message," he jerked the Starfleet leader, and tears began to stream down her face, "has been acquired. ?I await your presence onboard, so that I may deliver the infidel to you."

Upon forcing herself to look at the Qelereth, Proctor began to sob. ?Disgusted, Kedr'ni'van shoved the blubbering fool to the deck. ?"Silence in the presence of the Fleetmaster, decadent filth," he snarled.

"Await my transport, Gral. Command your Dreyu fighters to sweep the station and destroy any infidel survivors. No one but this...*Admiral*," she formed the hew-mon word as best she could, "I will arrive in a few Tricics. Sja out." The holochron blinked out.

"The Queen's gambit has begun," she said, raising her voice so all in the CIC could hear her. "For the glory of the Sovereignty," she called.

"And the life of the Queen!" they all echoed.

"Let's Talk About Sex, Baby"

1st. Lieutenant Branwen London
Marine Psychologist

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer

Bran knocked on Saul's office door then poked her head around. "is it safe to come in for a small innocent marine?" She joked.

"Question is, is it safe for me to let you in?" Came the retort as the doors parted. "Come in, Branwen."

At first glance the room appeared just as she recalled it from her last visit, which was quite a long time ago. But then, something small and furry buzzed cheerfully through the air, apparently carrying some sort of ring attached to its tail. Then, when Saul stood up, she saw the second irregularity - there was a white backpack resting on one of the shelf, and from it extended two tubes that were connected to a white device enfolding Saul's left arm.

"It's good to see you." He said, gesturing at Lali to close the office's doors.

"Hey, what happened to you?" She came forward. "And what is that!'

"That's Thing."

"Thing?"

Saul extended his healthy hand. Thing changed its random course and hovered over his palm, its two black beady eyes curiously watching Branwen.

"It's from Barzan. One of a kind." Saul said proudly, then slanted his eyes toward the backpack. "As for what happened to me, Manslaughter happened."

"Thing? Couldn't you think of another name." She grinned. "Yeah I heard you guys caught him. Should you be working, Saul?"

"Hey, Thing didn't protested." Saul chuckled, then turned serious, "As for work, I would prefer to let the arm heal, but with the invasion it's just not an option."

"you should train your subordinates to be able to take over if needed, you know." Bran said playfully. "And not waste your energy fighting with marines."

"YOU train them" Saul replied, gesturing at the empty seat on the other side of the desk. "And train your bosses, too. They really are a couple of boneheads. Forkel at least tries to appear civil, but that Shaw fellow actually threatened to kill me! There are armies in the Galaxy where doing so would get him dead. Want something to drink?"

"They are learning." She said softly. "Believe me, they are not so bad when you get to know them. And even the major listened to me the other day. It is hard for them as well coming from another tradition. They let me do my job better then Baile actually. Looking after the mental health ofthe marines. Maybe you could give them a second chance as well?"

"Gave them. And then they burst into CIC without authorization, shamed my people and threaten me. As far as I'm concerned they are a couple of dumb privates with officer ranks on."

He didn't know why he told Branwen all that. With his crew, he tried to maintain a respected appearance. It was the only way to keep reasonable working relations without burning bridges, and the Dutch merchant realized it. They weren't the first people he despised and yet kept doing business with.

Perhaps it was because Branwen was supposed to be the one who suffered the most from Forkel and Shaw, and yet she defended them.

"You're naive." He added as he knelt by the replicator. It was much harder to handle with only one arm, but Saul recalled what she liked and with some effort was able to replicate it.

"You're being naive again." He said as he brought her the cup. "But it's still cute."

"I am not naive any longer." She flared at him. "These days I am a realist. Come on Saul, we are on the same ship, we have to work together for the good of the federation and star fleet. And let me do that. You shouldn't be using your arms right now."

"I understand that." Saul said, moving aside, "Your CO's, apparently, don't. Let me ask you something - what is your job description?"

"Mostly staff psychologist these days. It takes up most of my time."

"Shaw said that his job description is to 'To shoot things, to kill things'." He also said 'to protect things' but that wasn't the point. "Perhaps it's good to unleash such people on the enemy, but after that don't complain that 'fleeters' don't like marines too much."

"he probably said that to piss you off. I talked to him recently and he even apologized to me. You have to know how to approach them. If he was that bad, I would declare him unfit for duty."

"And he would chase you through half the ship with phaser fire, I suspect." Saul shook his head. "Don't let them buy you with pretty words, Branwen."

Thing, noticing how his owner was irritated, began to orbit around Saul's head as though it was a planet. The Dutchman chuckled, and tried to wave the creature off, but only managed to scrap the metallic ring coming out of the fluffy creature's tail.

"Bloody flying raccoon with no arms and legs." Saul muttered, then grinned. "But never mind Shaw or Forkel, you're much more interesting. How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. And I cannot be bought, you know that." She was even giving Man'dar a hard time when she thought he wasn't treating the troups right. "I am learning." She blushed. "You know, can you ehm... you know....tell me about sex?"

"Say again?"

"Well you know...." Bran started.

The door was flung open, and Lali's head appeared through it.

"Saul, did you read Doctor Richardson's diplomatic report? I t-- "

The Indian girl stopped abruptly when she realized that both Saul and Branwen's faces were in a lovely shade of scarlet.

"I'll... I'll come back later."

"Don't bother, I'll come to you." Saul murmured. The door closed again.

"Where were we? Errr... what, what would you like to know?"

"Well you know...everything." Came out as a whisper.

"I don't know how Capellans do these, um, things." Saul scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

This was definitely top five on his 'unlikely Galaxy events', right after 8-Ball joining a Vulcan monastery, Counsellor Brian hitting on that loud blond teen from security, and Faylin McAlister having a quiet day.

"... I don't know what Nara told you, but I'm no expert either. I suppose... the best thing is just to let things flow and not halt or restrain yourself. Don't be stressed, and take the time to explore what he enjoys more and what he enjoys less."

God, he sounded like a sexual education school teacher. Too much time in that uniform.

"The problem is that sex before marriage is forbidden in my religion."

"So does mine." Saul shrugged.

Another blush. "Is kissing and you know fondling... sex? I guess you had so many women, you should know."

She managed to kick him off-balance again. "What? Oh... heh, where did you get that idea? No, Bran, I didn't 'have' so many women, and most of them... were a 'very short relationship', let's say."

Saul realized that every woman he spent more than a month with was on board the Galaxy, in the past or presently.

"Anyway, a religion which doesn't allow you to kiss or hug the one you love is not worth believing in." Saul said. He used the same argument with his cousin Arieh, when the latter was studying toward becoming a Rabbi. "I suppose you should define your own borderlines, but don't be too hard on yourself. Or on him."

"I can touch and stuff I guess, after marriage. Privately I think it is a dumb rule but I have broken so many church rules already the last couple of months." She smiled.

"Then what's another, you say. I think the purpose of that rule is to avoid unmarried women getting pregnant, and that's a problem which was solved four centuries ago." Saul said. Then, his forehead furrowed. "Wait - are you going to marry him?"

"He hasn't asked yet." She said. "That's for the man to do. But yes, I want to. He is interested in me. You of all people should know how rare that is." She tried to make it a joke. "And he is nice."

"I don't think it's so unlikely that people would be interested in you. You're sweet, smart and pretty. Sure, you can get annoying, but show me a girl that isn't."

"Hmmmm." She said. "Well I kind of screwed up last night. I know I did but I didn't know what to say different you know."

"What happened?"

"Well he was playful I think and then he carried me to the bedroom and I asked him to please not rape me. Dar took that the wrong way."

"Is there a right way to take it? You might as well have broken his jaw." Saul shook his head. Every now and then Branwen reminded him exactly why he leaned toward Nara. Perhaps it originated from her being religious - the foolishness of religious people and their stupid way of life always drove him crazy. Not that his princess was perfect, but when they were in an intimate situation where she didn't want to go on... well, she certainly didn't say anything about rape.

Maybe it was because she was a rape victim herself.

"Do you trust him?" Saul asked.

"Yes, yes of course." Bran looked at him.

"Then assume that he is not going to do anything against your will. And if he does something you don't want him to do, just tell him to stop. Delicately. If he won't, then believe me that I'll deliver his Capellan balls to you on a plate before that day ends. But I'm sure it won't happen."

She grinned. "That thing with the female doctor a while back has me confused you know. She bend my will. Maybe it made me a bit too suspicious. I do love him, you know. He is cute."

"Are you teasing me now, ms. London?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, mr Bental." She said with a perfectly straight face.

Saul snorted. "Then go ahead and make it up to him. I'm sure you'll do well with the kissing and all without my training."

"Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek. "You see you are still my knight in shining armor, although more big brotherly these days. And you, don't break my bosses!" Bran gave him a stern look.

"Yes, milady." Saul bowed his head slightly.

And, every now and then, Branwen reminded him exactly why he became so fond of her he nearly turn Nara away. Marine or not, she was sweet and delicate; Ladilike. And that broad smile would launch any knight to charge at an incoming army.

"Fractures and Fibs"

Lt. Jg Faylin McAlister, JAG
Lt. Jg Robert Mathieson, MD

Suckbay, USS Galaxy
================

"Fer th' love o' Christ! Wot bleedin' berk did this?"

The Cockney laced question was, of course, left unanswered. Faylin McAlister was in no condition to make passing comment on her injuries, but her battered body spoke volumes to the trained eye.

"Lower two thoracic an' and upper three lumbar vertibrae're crushed. Looks like damage t' the anterior reticulospinal tract, both medial an' lateral reticulospinal." Mathieson observed to the attending nurses as he squinted at the biobed's readout. "Significant parietal hemmoragin' on th' skull t'boot. This lass' s' had better days. Let's get 25cc's o' Acetycholine in 'er fer starts an' 5 cc's o' Triptacedrin. Patterson - crank out th' Neural Transducer an' align it over 'er Conus medullaris quicklike. If we're lucky she'll walk out o' 'ere."

Sue Patterson, Delta Shift's Head Nurse and chief babysitter for the short Englishman, was mesmerized by the bloodwork from the patient. "Bob - htere's something you'd better see. Let's attune the biobed's scanners for soft tissue readouts about six centimeters above the spinal damage."

Robert Mathieson knew better than question a head nurse who knew her stuff. A small adjustment to the scanner brough into focus a small but disturbing mass in the center of McAllister's abdomen.

"Magnify 200, centered on th' mass."

The curvature of the spine was unmistakeable, as were the two small eyes and fin-like arms of the embryo. "Pregnant. Well, that's a kicker 'ain't it? Nix th' Triptacedrin an' load 'er with 20cc's o' Anesthezine." It was then that the doctor noticed the distinct purple-red hand pattern of briused flesh over the JAG's throat, and a razor thin cut at the tip of her chin.

"Jaysus! This fekkin' ship gets squirlier by th' fekkin' minute."

Her head slightly rolled to the left, her eyes not able to open with nothing but a short gasping breath escaping her lips. "Helllp me." She whispered out harshly.

"We're on it lass, rest easy", the doctor muttered, looking over Faylin's throat and making certain the soft tissue and cartilage damage didn't impede her breathing. The woman's biosigns were strong but erratic, stress and shock being the likeley culprits. "Good that ye're awake... let's keep it that way, eh? Now, how'd a nice girl like yersel' manage t' wind up in the den o' depravity that's me sickbay? Interrupt Vic Kriegoff's super-secret dance lessons?"

"The only dance I know Kriegoff can execute is the dance with the Devil." Fay attempted to chuckle at her own joke, but only managed to say "Owww."

"Easy. Ye're in no condition fer bein' a comedian", Mathieson said as he saw the woman's biosigns jump. "I've got a good idea where the bad man touched ye, but we're needin' t' know wo th' bleedin' bad man is."

"I don't remember what happened....I think this bump on my head has something to do with that..." Fay rasped out. Which, was a lie. She perfectly knew what happened to her. It's what happens when you back a wolf into a corner, then proceed to poke the animal with a stick. It attacks....and justifiably so. Just like Baile did. Fay backed him into a corner, and he attacked. The incident was as much her fault as his. She was just not on top of her game, she didn't expect the physical retaliation. As she closed her eyes, Faylin McAlister realized that her days as a killer were truly over. She had made a mistake, and once a mistake had been made, others would surely follow.

~She lies, human. You know it~, the voice of Talvath Raal murmered in Robert Mathieson's mind, and the doctor couldn't refute the dead man's observation.

"Bedridden Deceit"

Faylin McAlister, Esq.
Lieutenant j.g., JAG Corps
Staff Judge Advocate

&

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer

Location: Sickbay
------------------------------

Time had passed, how much, Fay did not know. Opening her eyes solidly, she blinked several times, realizing that she was not permitted to move much. She was however, able to look at Richardson and was somewhat amused by his befuddled expression.

"What?" She managed to mutter.

John set down the PADD he was reading and gave Fay a lopsided smile.

"I wouldn't try to move too much, Fay. Doc' said that you're not going anywhere for the time being." Richardson paused, and his smile crept slowly down his face. "How are you doing?"

"I've been told my back is broken and I have several superficial injuries.... other than that.... not much medically."

John forced a tight grin, and mumbled "good", before staring off for a moment. The grin faded again, and Richardson rested shuffled slightly in his chair.

"Faylin," John said, his voice again taking on a serious tone, "do you remember what happened to you in the Marine Training Holodeck?"

"No, I don't remember." Fay lied simply.

"Ok." Richardson paused deliberately, and nodded his head for effect. "Would you mind talking to me about what happened, or anything you do remember?"

Faylin paused briefly, searching for her words. "All I remember is being in the Marine barracks, then waking up here and having a nurse tell me that I was attacked. Do we know who did it?"

John nodded his head somberly. He was finding it hard to believe that Faylin had no recollection of Baile being alone in the room with her. According to the ship's logs, Fay went down to the training room alone, and one would assume with the intent of meeting Baile.

"Well, no, we're not completely sure." Richardson lied. "The Admin Sergeant in the Marine barracks say that Lieutenant Baile was in the room last. Do you remember him attacking you?"

"Richardson.....I have numerous enemies. Most of which would love the opportunity to beat me to a pulp daily." Fay responded with a sarcastic, yet painful smile.

Richardson didn't smile back. "Faylin, that's not what I was asking." Richardson sighed and shook his head. It was obvious that the Galaxy's resident defense attorney was dodging his questions. He went straight to the point.

"Fay, I ordered 1st Lieutenant Baile arrested 2 hours ago. He is in the Brig, awaiting advice from counsel."

Faylin's face did little to hide the shock of Richardson's words. "Are you kidding me? You ordered Baile arrested? On what grounds?"

John's left eyebrow shot upwards, amazed at Faylin's defense of her attacker. 'This scumbag nearly beat her to death, and she's surprised I had him arrested?' John thought.

"On the grounds that shipboard records show him leaving the holodeck with you inside." Richardson said defensively. "He was the person with you last, and therefore it was logical for me to assume that, after finding finding you beat to a bloody pulp, he was the guy who did it."

"Let me get this straight. Because Baile was in the area where I was found, you are charging him with my assault? You have no right I'm afraid."

Richardson's face lit up with anger. "I had EVERY right, Lieutenant. Baile's rec -" John stopped talking and abruptly stood up, turning his back to the bedridden McAlister. His hands were clinched, his knuckles turning white with anger. 'This isn't her fault' John reminded himself.

John picked up the PADD he had been reading and sat back down next to Faylin.

"Look...I served for 21 years in the Starfleet Marine Corps. That's my entire adult life, Fay. Understand that I've spent countless hours training in Holodecks..." Richardson's hands flew across his PADD, and an image started playing silently. "... holodecks that are installed with monitoring equipment to provide documentary evidence for any mishaps that occur during a training cycle."

John directed his PADD in Faylin's viewing direction. "We had every right to arrest him, Fay."

Faylin closed her eyes before she could see the video from Richardson's PADD.

"During a training cycle...that does not mean it would record anything if something occurred outside the normal parameters of use. Another point."She paused, wincing as the pain entered her head. "Digital documentation is not allowed in court if the person did not know the device was being used. Marine or not. What you have gathered is circumstantial evidence. If it, and I will not allow it, went before a panel of judges, the charges would get thrown out. And I would look like an utter idiot because I am the JAG in charge of the legal workings of this barge."

She paused again, briefly. " And don't even start into me on the subject of conflict of interest. Your job is diplomacy, my job is law. Do your job, and leave the legalities to the lawyers and the criminal investigators...Doctor."

John was at a complete loss for words. "Faylin..." he began earnestly, but stopped speaking. His PADD was playing back the digital footage from the Marine Training Holodeck, violently detailing Baile as the attacker. This evidence was anything but 'circumstantial'. What she was saying didn't make any sense.

John began tapping away on his PADD, detailing every point of her argument he could remember. "Get some sleep, Fay." John said distantly as he got up to leave. "We'll talk more about this later. Petty Officer Stuart is going to come down and make sure they're taking care of you"

"Whatever." She hissed before closing her eyes with an angry sigh.

"Fa ra ra ra ra."

Starring :
Allison Jimsdottir

Being the cutest darn crewmember aboard the USS Galaxy was not an easy job.

While looking at the cute impish features of young Allison Jimsdottir, one would rightly assume that the job came easy to her.

(After all, being naturally blessed with sparkling blond hair and bright blue eyes, not to mention a winning personality, its hard to picture a more perfect choice for the position.)

However, cuteness took discipline, hard work, and a great deal of exfoliation.

"Girliness is next to Godliness." Allison sighed as she sunk deeper into the plush leather chair in the USS Galaxy Beauty Salon located on Deck 26.

MADAME FiFi's Salon was one of those lesser known places aboard the starship that if you happened upon while turning a corner it would initially surprise you.

However, if you thought a bout it a bit,it made sense.

It is a well known fact that Starfleet was in the habit of hiring only the most beautiful and well proportioned of society. Crews consisted of supermodels in form fitting spandez uniforms full of rugged jawlines and heaving bosoms.

Naturally,as a result there was a big call for someone to maintain all that perfect hair, and well applied makeup for the crew.

After all, it wouldnt do for the Klingons to storm the ship, and find the gallant defenders with their roots showing, or Botox shots not up to date.

(Not that Allison had roots to show mind you. She was a natural blond.)

"Next finger please....you give now." The stern Asian woman demanded with a thick accent as she worked on filing Alli's fake nails. The paragon of cute-ness was reclining in a salon chair while the aforementioned cosmetologist busied herself on Alli's manicure.

"Here you go Bing," The young girl from Iceland replied, readjusting her hands daintily, " Like do me a favor and mind the cuticles this time, last time I had a nasty hangnail and I was like ohmygawd, I totally like have a hangnail y'know?"

Bing, the manicurist was unimpressed. "You hord stirr....you no move finger....I firing now."

"Filing."

"Thats what I say.....I firing your finger....fire fire fire."

Smiling from behind the cucumber slices that covered her eyes Alli didnt argue. The angry lady that ran the salon could be a bit testy at times, but Hel-lo could she could deliver a zarky manicure.

"Which nairs you want this time? Acriric or Aruminum?"

"Aruminum?" Alli repeated not understanding

"Aruminum...Aruminum....Trasparent Aruminum.....very hard very strong....no need reprace rong time."

"Oh", Alli nodded, "Transparent Aluminum nails....like sure.....sounds zarky. Can you still get them glitter speckled?"

"Sure sure. Gritter specked okay." Bing bobbed her tiny head and bent to her work. "Take fifteen minutes.......you hord still and no move. I make you pretty pretty. Boys go crazy."

"You Rock Bing."

"Sure sure....I rock....you move too much."

Across the salon, Allisons Horta roomate, affectionaltely known as Mary Poppins, was getting her own beauty treatment.

Now normally an alien composed of living rock, that resembled a huge ball of mashed up pepperoni pizza would not normally be one to be concerned about her looks, but since rooming with the high-strung earthgirl, 'Mary' had taken to experimentation with the occasional preening.

Sipping a cocktail of molten lead and silicates (with a little titanium umbrella in it) The Horta allowed a team of ladies to run a rumbling powersander over her nooks and cranies, sending off shards of dust in a shower of sparks.

Exfoliation was hard work on a Horta.

"Like, totally looking hot Mary." Allison took her cucumbers off long enough to gague her roomies progress. "I'll bet you'll be the cutest rock at the spring formal."

"I'll be the only rock at the dance luv.....we silicates are not known for our propensity to boogie."

"Failure of the species if you ask me." Alli yawned earning herself a disapporving stare from Bing.

"Hord Still!"

"Hold still....gotcha." Alli peeled the cucumbers off her eys and idly watched the hustle and bustle inside the salon.

Quite a few ladies were getting their nails redone as she was......Transparent aluminum seemd to be all the rage currently.

A Klingon was soaking her impressive feet in some sort of bath, and against the far wall an army of cosmetologists hovered over a Bolian who had a sudden urge to 'go blond'.

It really wasnt a combination that worked in Alli's expert opinion.

~~Like some girls cant handle being blond.~~ she mused with a toss of her own pale locks. ~~Its like a serious responsibility to be this cute, an undertaking that one should not enter into lightly.......Oooh are those cookies?~~~

Alli happily munched on a tiny mint-chip, at peace with the world.

"Ok Dai, I finish now." The asian manicurist gave her nails one final admiring look. "Your fingers rook rovely. Top notch. Number one."

Beaming impishly, Allison waggled her fingers experimentally admiring how they sparkled in the neon lights. "Zarky Bing. These are kick ass."

"Sure sure." The older lady bowed slightly, "I kick ass finger person. You reccomend friends."

"Absolutely." her client experimentally tapped the nails on the counter enjoying the happy little metallic clicking sound they made.

"Y'know Bing-a-Ling.....These are totaly gonna rock for playing my guitar. I normally use my nails for picks, but always have to worry about breaking them y'know?"

clickclickclickclickclck

"Yeah....these are gonna be sweet....you totally need to come listen to me play next week for amateur night Bing. Its gonna wail!"

Wiping her hands on a small towel, the asian woman shook her head, "You sure tark arot. How you breath right with so much tarking?"

"Har har," Alli stuck out her tongue, "I'll have you know......"

***ATTENTION GALAXY CREWMEN*** the overhead intercom crackled across Allison's reply, ***WAR HAS BROKEN OUT WITH THE TRIAD GOVERNMENTS, ALL CREW REPORT TO ACTION STATIOSN FOR DETAILED UPDATES....THAT IS ALL.***

"Well foozlesticks." Alli scrunched her face in dismay.....not really sure what a Triad was, but sure that 'war' would mean long hours back at the armory. "Buncha grubby mongoloid Marines wanting to check out all the photon cannons and not cleaning them up afterwards.......grumble grumble." Running for the door closely followed by the newly polished form of Mary Poppin's, Alli tossed a farewell over her shoulder. "Thanks for the nails Bing.....dont forget the concert....."

"Sure sure Arrison.....you go now.....go save Garaxy kay?"

"Always"

"It's Complicated"

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer

Featuring

Warrant Officer Gaius Vorkalen, Diplomatic Security Specialist (Risan)
Legalman 2nd Class Igrilan Kival, JAG Aide (Andorian)
Diplomatic Specialist 2nd Class Mary-Grace Stuart, Diplomatic Aide (Terran)

---Liaison Corps Offices, Deck 17---

=/\= LN2 Kival to Dr. Richardson, I've got the brief ready. =/\=

=/\= Ok Kival. I'll meet you and WO Vorkalen in the conference room in 5 minutes. =/\=

=/\= Understood. Sir. Kival out. =/\=

John sat in his office, tapping out notes alongside the PADD displaying his latest intelligence brief. The exact job description of a "Diplomatic Officer" is?vague, to say the least. While the John is the person that arranges the logistics of any official diplomatic meetings; those chores are maybe 5% of his overall job.

For the most part, a diplomatic officer is expected to be an guru on all things non-Starfleet; an odd mixture of political scientist, sociologist, and interplanetary affairs expert. And, as *Galaxy *races towards Corvallis, John was splitting his time between proofing a memo on current Breen political conflicts and worrying about his friend, Faylin McAlister.

She was lying seriously injured in sickbay; nearly beaten to death by her sometimes-sexual partner Jebidiah Baile. John found Fay pummeled in the Marine Training Holodeck after the Lieutenant missed a meeting with him earlier in the day. The entire savage attack was recorded by the holodeck's safety system, although Faylin claims that such evidence is circumstantial and non-admissible as evidence.

John, for his part, looked extremely stressed as his office doors slid open. He wasn't wearing his duty jacket, as it had been stained with blood when he found Fay not 3 hours earlier. He instead wore his duty vest, with a standard issue type-2 phaser attached to his left hip. He had three PADDS tucked under his left arm as he walked towards the conference room.

"Sir!" shouted Mary-Grace Stuart in Richardson's general direction. Richardson stopped walking and turned towards her. "Sir" she repeated "I've put together the information you asked for, and I sent it to your desk for review."

"Yeah?it looked good, Mary-Grace." John said distantly. "Mary-Grace, why aren't you in sickbay with LT McAlister?"

"Well," she stammered, looking at the her boss innocently. "I figured I could be of more use down here, Doc."

John walked close to Mary-Grace, making sure that they're conversation wouldn't be overheard. Richardson always found it bad form to reprimand someone publicly.

"Petty Officer, I wasn't suggesting that you keep the Lieutenant company. I was ordering you to. Any work you could do from this office, you can do in sickbay." John paused for a moment, remembering his own lonely days in a field hospital on Betazed. "We don't leave our people alone when they're injured. Someone from this department will be with her 24-7 until she's released. Understood?"

Stuart learned the "Richardson lessons" quickly. The only acceptable answer to questions that follow "understood?" were, "Yes, Sir". She responded in turn, and headed back up to sickbay to watch over the sleeping McAlister.

John continued towards the Liaison Department's conference room, and took one last look over his notes before walking inside.

----

"Attention on Deck!" Igrilan Kival shouted, and both he and WO Gaius Vorkalen stood rigidly at the position of attention. Vorkalen was a former security NCO and "mercenary to the idealists of the galaxy" who insisted on Liaison Corps staff following naval tradition. His 6'4, 280 pound Risan frame was perhaps as much of a motivation for the staff for abide by these ancient procedures as the single black pip on his red uniform collar.

"Seats!" said Richardson simply, the appropriate response when ordering personnel at attention to sit down in their chairs. "What have you got me, Igrilan?"

"Well Sir, I do believe that Ms. McAlister must have been somewhat delirious when she told you that video would be inadmissible as evidence. I went through all the pertinent Starfleet regulations and even reviewed the court case that set precedent for such evidence. I see no reason why it couldn't be used in a court-martial."

Kival slid PADDs to Richardson and Vorkalen, and both read his brief quietly. Gaius was the first to speak.

"John, I think she's lying to you. I went and asked around with some of the Marines I've given DSS lessons to. They told me some crazy stuff about Baile. I-" Vorkalen stopped talking abruptly and looked over at Kival. "Thanks for the brief Petty Officer. It's really great work. You're dismissed."

"Thank you sir!" blurted Kival, proud to finally get some positive praise. He picked up his materials and left the room. It was only after the doors 'swooshed' closed that Gaius began speaking again.

"John, I hear that Fay and this Baile character were lovers. I didn't want to say anything in front of our people, but evidently it's somewhat common knowledge among the crew."

"Well," said John softly, "That's actually the first I've heard of it."

Richardson sat silent in his chair. He and McAlister had also spent a few nights together, although both Fay and John closely guarded that bit of knowledge. They regarded each other as close friends, and both respected the ?unique?relationship they shared. While John was aware that they weren't "exclusive", per se, he was very surprised in her poor choice of men.

"This certainly complicates things, doesn't it Gaius? I think she lied to me. I think she wanted me to drop this case to protect her lover."

Vorkalen ran his hands through his beard, his bright gray eyes alive with thought. "She can do a lot to keep this from going to trial, John. I mean, she's the damn Staff Judge Advocate."

Gaius sighed loudly and shook his head. "John, I left Starfleet after 10 good years to fight in the Bajoran resistance. So when those poor bastards got out of the heel of the Cardassians, it seemed only natural that I should lend my services to the Maquis. I got myself arrested, spent two years in jail? when Starfleet needed people in the Dominion War, they commuted my sentence and let me serve again."

Gaius pointed at his rank insignia, and then to the spot on John's right arm tattooed with the SFMC Eagle, Galaxy, and Anchor. "This uniform means a lot to people like you and me. Let's make sure that Jebidiah Baile doesn't ever have the honor of wearing it again."

"Planning To Fight Back, Part 1"

Captain Jaal Jaxom (formerly CO USS Carthage)
Dr. June M'Kantu
Cmdr. Arel Smith
PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell
Midshipman Aina Mason
Lieutenant Nathan Everett
Lieutenant Thyago Carneiro
Ensign Artim Shivar
& Others...

==DS5 Lower Decks==

Captain Jaxom looked around at the assembled personnel. Some he knew well, some he just knew, and some he didn't know at all. All their expressions said the same thing... they didn't intend to give up DS5 without a fight.

They'd managed to find some refuge in the lowest decks of the massive space station. For whatever reason, the lower third of DS5 was not showing up on the station's internal scans. It was both a blessing and a curse at times. The enemy could not see them, but in turn, they could not see the enemy. Sure, individual tricorders helped but their range was limited.

Aina was worried, scared and being hungry didn't help. Internal sensors were down, so they could move around with some impunity - using station power was another thing entirely. They'd been on the run for less than a day and with the escape from the Carthage, they hadn't any food or drink with them. And to use a replicator would be a flashing light that people were down here, her stomach growled as Jaal called for people to get together to discuss what was needed.

It was a lucky break, meeting up with a Captain. And Jaal Jaxom, to boot! Max felt a little better, as someone with much more experience in these matters could give them direction. He was starting to feel the fatigue, the weariness, the lack of sleep. But he knew that he needed to be very alert for what the Captain had to say. He looked at his compatriots: Thyago, Nate, Artim....and that walking fox.

"All right people," Jaal started the meeting getting everyone's attention, "Our first priority is to gain control of a comm-array and get a distress signal out. Secondly, we need to stay alive long enough for help to arrive. Thirdly, we need to harass the Hydrans in as many ways as possible."

He let those three objectives sink into to people's minds before going on. "June, Mason, and I will concentrate on getting the distress signal out. Smith," He looked towards his XO, "Your team will use hit and run tactics to keep the Hydrans that come down this far off our backs. Don't stay in one place too long. If they get a bead on our location, they'll try and vent the section to space again." Jaal looked to the Klingon twins that served as the Carthage's ops manager and chief flight controller, "Net'wa, Vam'wa, your team will head up a few decks and set traps and cause the Hydrans all the problems you can."

He addressed the whole group again, "Until re-enforcements arrive it's unrealistic to think we can retake the station ourselves. We 'can' however, get a good headstart on it. Questions?"

June considered asking a few questions for a moment, but decided against it. Ever since she'd checked the group out with a hijacked sensor node and determined that they were simply too much of a mish-mash of different races, specialties, and ranks to possibly be a Hydran infiltration team sent to look for her, she'd been mostly keeping quiet and observing. She didn't want to be in charge of this -something that would only get good people killed since she wasn't Daren, who could be an explorer one minute and a warrior the next -and there was a distinct possibility that if she sounded like she knew what she was doing, she'd find herself there. It was better, she decided, to wait and see what everyone else asked first.

"Do you want prisoners?" Arel asked, her tone making it clear that she really didn't want to take any.

"I hope he doesn't," muttered Max, clearly understanding Arel's intent. He wanted to personally thank the Hydrans for the screams he knew he'd have to hear for quite some time to come.

"While a prisoner might yield some useful information we really don't have the means to properly hold or interrogate one," Jaal explained evenly. He's like nothing more than to tear into one of those three-eyed bastards himself for the carnage and violence they'd caused since their invasion attempt at Romulus. "Perhaps when the cavalry gets here we can grab a couple."

Arel smiled. "I doubt there will be any left by then, Sir."

Captain Jaxom flashed an almost imperceptible smile at his XO. She knew he shared her opinion on the matter.

Without realizing it, Max smiled and tentatively fingered his sheathed K-Bar. He turned to Nate. "Looks like we can officially take the muzzle off, now."

"Hallelujah," the fighter pilot muttered, nodding to Max. He glanced over at Arel and grinned. "Try to leave some fer us, huh?"

Arel snorted. "What are you going to do, Cowboy? Talk them to death?"

"Talk is cheap, Commander," interjected Max. "But the trail we left speaks volumes." He smiled a predatory smile at her.

"Yeah, you shoulda seen the ones Ah dealt with before Ah met up with Thyago and Max," Nathan added, only slightly defensively. "You woulda been proud."

The XO raised an eyebrow that seemed to say that she was not impressed. She would have to tell Rena later - if she survived that was - that'd her ex was too easy to bait. "Permission to go harass the Hydrans, Captain?"

Before Jaal could answer someone interrupted...

"Uh, I have two questions, before you answer that," Thyago said,

"Deliverence"

Qasar'Mereth J'oolak'k, Shipmaster of the IHV Shield of Resolution

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

The star-filled horizon behind the massive Federation station bloomed into a colorful, ever-changing kaleidescope of amber Federation phasers and pale-white photon and quantum torpedoes outnumbered by a brilliant cobalt-blue glow cast by fusion cannons and the bright orange born of Hellbore fire. Accenting the colors of the battle was the emerald shine of rapid gatling-phaser fire. Each stream of green death came from a Hydran starfighter, each pilot eager to avenge the defeat over ch'Rihan.

The new Master of the Shield of Resolution was no different than the pilots she commanded in this - the defeat was a 'strategic disaster' brought about by Federation desperation and Llyran trickery according to the fools that suckled the teat of an unpious royalty.

J'oolak'k also knew more... that day saw the death of a god.

Her god.

Her three lungs threatened to burst that day, and her eyestalks had glued open as they witnessed the unholy sight. Nobody in the fleet expected the Lyrans to engage in a sizeable force, let alone a suicide run against the Stargod. It had turned the tide of the battle, and in less than forty z'ii emerald ch'Rihan, the promised reward of the Faithful, was stipped from them.

The Ulazhi bore the brunt of the Royalty's anger, but many truths had become evident that day - certainly not the least was the superiority of Starflet's fighter craft and squadron tactics. Sheer numbers alone had allowed the Hydran wings to dominate when in the past it had been done with skill and an unmatched technology. The archtraitor Alklaatu Verati'ss (may he wallow in his damnation) was correct in his observation that the fighter losses were unacceptable... almost unimaginable.

Despite the Stargod's unjust destruction it's blessings continued to grace J'oolak'k fortunes, and she received command of the hull that bore her fighter squadrons. After ch'Rihan she, and her crew, worked like slaves to learn the ways of their enemies. Tactics modified and re-invented. Traditions made obsolete. Command had not been idle either - new fightercraft updated with better targeting and defensive scanners, Breen coolant systems and t'Kith'Kin chaff dispensers replaced the old.

Stanting firm on the bridge of the Shield of Resolution, J'oolak'k couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy towards the carrier's new Wing Commander. The Hydran fighter wings were performing flawlessly, decimating the Federation defenders quickly and almost to a man. There was the occasional straggler who sought glory and retribution for the dying station by ramming the Shield's ancient hull, but her upgraded gatling defences quickly made the efforts less than a foolish dream.

Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja's leadership so far was impeccible, and the Queen's gambit proceeding flawlessly... but so did ch'Rihan up to the point of the Llyran's arrival. Then, the Hydran Armada basked in the glorious presence of a sacred being.

Now, they slaked their thirst merely on the sweet nectar of riteous and terrible vengeance.

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