"You Want Fries with That?"

Starring:
Allison Jimsdottir

"Welcome to Mc'Armory, My name is Allison, Would you like to try a #1 Phaser Special with all the trimming today?"

The burly Starfleet Marine scratched his jaw and studied the Menu-board behind the smiling blond girl in the window.

"Naw," he replied slowly scanning his options, "I'm looking for something with a little more firepower today....How's the Photonic Grenade launcher? Are the Power Packs fresh?"

Cute little Allison bobbed her head merrily sending her blond ponytail dancing, "Of course sir......we here at Mc'Armory charge our photon packs fresh daily."

"Cool.....Gimme that then and......hmmm...I guess add on a side of Plasma Mines, should make some good booby traps."

"Excellent choice sir. Mines come is packs of four, six, or our family pack of twelve."

The Marine considered the menu while he mulled that one over...."I dunno, I guess six would be fine....."

"If you get the family pack, there will be enough to share with your whole platoon." Alli prompted, the smile frozen on her lips.

The Marine shrugged, "Sure....what the hell. Gimme the twelve, and that'l be it."

Nodding perkily, Allison rang up the order on the Padd in front of her. "Zarky, Okay thats one Photonic Grenade launcher, and the Plasma mine family pack....you're order number 572, take this slip and we'll bring your order out to you shortly."

**NUMBER 568...YOUR ORDER IS READY...NUMBER 568**

The line at the Armory Pick-up window stretched out the door with various Marines and Security agents eagerly queing up to requisition weapons for the coming battle.

A hastily made banner hung over the Armory door proclaiming a TRIAD WAR SPECIAL, and a little pin on Allison's uniform said 'ASK ME ABOUT THE PHASER TWO FOR ONE SPECIAL"

Now normally Alli's job in Armory consisted mainly of scrubbing alien blood off of phaser rifles, and raiding crewquarters to repossess weapons that crew (usually Marines) had forgotten to return to the Armory.

Alli may be cute and friendly, but she was serious about late fees on her guns.

"Hi there....Welcome to Mc'Armory," she addressed the next person in line, "My name is Allison, Would you like to try a #1 Phaser Special with all the trimming today?"

The fake smile that had been plastered on her face was a little wearying, but Clarence the Manager insisted on 'Service with a Smile"

The Marine.....a hulking sloped brow neanderthal loomed over the window.

"Grog need gun! Grog need BIG Gun." he grunted.

"Grog need breath-mint" Alli gagged waving her hand to disperse the halitosis. "What exactly did you have in mind....."

"GROG NED GUN!" The bulk insisted slamming his fist down with a meaty 'thunk'.

"Okay...Like keep the fingers off my counter okay? " Alli let her smile slip, and examined the patch on the Marines uniform. "Heavy Weapons squad huh.....Like that figures."

"Grog like Big Guns....Guns go Boom!"

"Boom...gotcha.....Okay let me reccommend the Bazooka platter with optional clip on infrared sight."

"Boom Boom Boom.....Grog go Boom!"

"Right," Alli quickly punched in the order and handed over the receipt, "Order 573....Happy maiming!"

The big lug shuffled away, and Allison took a moment to spray some airfreshener around her window.

**ORDER 569 YOUR GUNS ARE READY. 569! **

"Welcome to Mc'Armory, How may I help you?"

"Phaser I.....Extra powerpacks....and a half dozen Photon Grenades."

"Sure thing sir...Would you lik to Supersize that Type I to a Type II?"

"Uh sure....go Ahead."

"There you go, Order 574.....Next please?"

"Yeah I'd like a Zenon-12 Assualt rifle to go."

Alli frowned. "Im sorry....we are all out of Zenon-12's. We're expecting some later this week so you can check back later?"

"Aw Man....." The Marine's face fell. "I was really looking forward to getting my hands on one...."

"Im sorry sir...maybe a Plasma Mortar would make you feel better?"

"No.....no," tears were forming in the corner of his eyes as he cast about in despair...." Its not the same y'know? I mena the Zenon-12's are so.....so special."

"There there." Alli patted the poor Marine on the shoulder. "Find a happy place sir."

"Dont wanna!"

"We have firepower-withdrawal councelors on call sir....would you like me to summon one?'

"I dunno." The Marine shuffled his feet like a lost schoolboy.

"What If I give you a lollipop?"

" k....."

"Sorry again, and check back later........NEXT!"

Next in line was a swaggering Marine Officer with a huge chip on his shoulder and a snarling glare.

"Can the salesman routine blondie, and just gimme my fucking guns." he snapped. The idea that a Marine had to actually requisition weapons from some teenybopper in the drive through window really chapped his hide.

Alli frowned deeply (although in a cute perky way) "Im sorry sir,I need something a little more specific than just......"

"Guns Blondie! Guns! Shut up and gimme my weapons you dumb Fleet-Monkey."

A pink tinge rose in Allisons normally pale, glitter speckled cheeks. "Now look Buck-o....I am like totally not going to take your attitude. You want to rephrase your request in the form of a polite statement, or you want to go to the back of the line?"

You could hear a pin drop in the sudden silence that filled the Armory. The long line of hulking Marines took a step backwards as their officer turned ten shades of purple, and the vein in his forehead began to throb menacingly.

Leaning in through the window, the officer's voice rose to a fevered screech. "YOU GAWDAMNED FLEET WEENIE SLUT. HOW DARE YOU TELL ME MY GAWDAMNED BUSINESS. I STAND ON A WALL TO KEEP YOUR FLEET ASS SAFE AT NIGHT. DONT FUCK WITH ME...IM A FUCKING MARINE!!!."

Allison didnt bat an eyebrow. "Dont mess with me......I got all the guns."

"YOU GOT ALL THE.........Huh?""

"Hel-Lo." Alli repeated shuffling her paperwork with a yawn. "I got all of the guns.......you want to get into this war with something more potent than a canopener? You wait at the end of the line."

"But...."

"Next please!" Alli tapped her new aluminum nails on the counter happily. "Welcome to Mc'Armory,I am the keeper of all the guns.....how may I help you?""

"Planning To Fight Back, Part 2"

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==

"Permission to go harass the Hydrans, Captain?" Arel Smith asked anxiously.

Before Jaal could answer someone interrupted...

"Uh, I have two questions, before you answer that," Thyago said, absentmindedly playing with a small, loose spring he had found. Unlike most of the other people in the room, who still had their guns, and, in some cases, were anxiously petting them like toy dogs, Thyago's phaser had been immediately taken from him when they stumbled upon other survivors. Of course, there was good reason for those with him to take it. During their journey, he had accidentally set it off and nearly shot Cowboy in the foot.

Afterwards, he had found the spring, and that left him content, for it was shiny and bouncy.

"Should we really attack them? 'Cause as far as they know, as best we can tell, they think they vented all these decks to space. Like, the primary air shafts are still sealed up there. Wouldn't attacking them let them know they failed and that there are still people down here, waiting to be slaughtered? And second, this relates to your middle objective, which was something along the lines of staying alive, there are at least a thousand civilians who were down here, and much less than a thousand guns. What do they do, where should they go? And eat. Sparky said we can't use the replicators, and, we're both hungry. I mean, it sounds like she's got an angry tiger in her stomach, ta ligado?"

Jaal looked at the engineer with disbelief clearly displayed on his face. He really couldn't believe he was being asked this. On the other hand, Thyago had displayed such cowardice on the last mission they were on together. "Yes," Jaal said sternly, "We 'should' attack them. Once the distress signal is sent, it should only be a matter of hours before someone gets here. Then we can eat after we're rescued. Besides, I'm sure there's a lounge or cafeteria we can raid down here somewhere. Any 'other' questions?"

"Sorry, Sparky, I tried," Thyago said, whispering quietly to Aina. Her stomach grumbled once more in response, a low, moaning whine, which sounded like a cat near death, lying in the street after being hit by a car. "Are you sure you don't have an alien symbiote in there? Seriously, I think its trying to communicate."

Aina looked at the engineer, the ridges in her nose increased in size from annoyance, as a she lashed out a half hearted punch on Thyago's arm.

"Yes," June sighed regretfully. "I've got a few questions. Starting with this one: why are you ignoring his question? Especially," she continued pointedly, "when he's right?"

"I think he's still mad at me 'cause I didn't want to get shot on the last mission we were on together, even though no one knows about that 'cause that mission log is classified for some reason," Thyago guessed.

Arel opened her mouth to say something, remembered Jordan's words to keep an open mind, and then shut it again. They wanted to do it their way - fine. But when she was burning in Grethor for being a coward with a full stomach, she was going to be very unhappy.

"Ah gotta agree with them, sir," Nathan added. "'Course we have a duty to fight back and do whatever we can to make the Hydrans' lives here a livin' Hell, but we ain't gonna do much good if we don't eat. And then there're the civilians Thyago was talkin' about. That's a lotta mouths to feed, and civilians ain't gonna take 'Wait 'til we've bloodied the Hydrans' noses up a bit' fer an answer when they start demandin' that we find 'em some food."

Captain Jaxom knew they were right. His thoughts were the rest of Starfleet would get there before anyone starved to death. "I figured the rest of the fleet would be here before anyone starved to death," he explained himself out loud.

"Nonono," Thyago said, "I just added that thing about being hungry at the end there 'cause I'm hungry and we can't use the replicators. I mean, its only been a few hours since the attack, and I'm a dancer, I know how to starve myself. The bigger thing was the over-a-thousand people, made of kids and old people and some sick and injured and at least one weird hunch-backed mouse-like creature. Surely you're not going to make them fight, right? 'Cause, you know, they're civilians, and stuff? I'm just saying calling attention to ourselves may not be the best thing, you know?"

Captain Jaxom's mouth twisted in thought.

"Well, there's a couple more things to consider", Artim said finally piping up, "First, the Hydrans had some ace up their sleeve to be able to sneak in so easy. I for one would like to know what that edge is and how we could exploit it. Secondly, well, we may have friends in places we don't realize..."

"Ah never figured you fer the religious type, Shorty," Cowboy joked.

"God is clearly on your side when you're my age flyboy," Artim quipped back.

"The edge they had is easy enough to answer," June replied. "We were betrayed. They suborned or replaced with clones or shapeshifters or something else, members of the Admiral's command staff. They were the only ones with the access codes to do what was done to the station so quickly, and for it to happen that smoothly, they were waiting for a specific time to do it in a systematic, organized fashion."

Jaal nodded, "We were thinking the same thing. There had to be insiders working against us."

The Trill rubbed his chin in thought for a few moments. They were right, they were 'all' right. There was too much going on for just a simple unprovoked attack on a Federation space station. They also had to do something about the other survivors and providing for them. Otherwise, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel for the Hydran boarding parties.

"All right," he said suddenly, "Group two will look for civilians and food stores and bring what they find to the lower decks. We can keep organized and pool resources that way. Group one, Smith's group, will use guerilla warfare tactics to keep the Hydran patrols off balance," Jaal looked at Arel now, "'Try' to keep it quiet and not give us away?"

Arel was unhappy. 'Keeping it quiet' meant lots of sneaking and other tactics that were generally difficult to work your honor around - unless you were an assassin of course. But if those were her orders. "Yes, Sir."

"I know you don't particularly 'like' those tactics, but that's what we have to use for now," Jaal tried to reassure her Klingon sensibilities. After all their years together on the Miranda, and their short time together on the Carthage, he knew what Smith was thinking.

Gathering food? Max thought indignantly. He wanted to fight, to avenge the people on the station who were slaughtered, the people he couldn't do anything for. Not go out and find take out for the masses. But the boss handed out the marching orders now, so he simply kept his mouth shut, his mouth a thin line of frustration and his fingers dancing on the handle of his sheathed K-Bar knife.

"Sir," the Medic in him suddenly came out and spoke, "if anyone has in their possession a Medkit or two, I'd appreciate it if I could have one of them. There are several wounded that need some kind of immediate care. I would really hate to have to battle both injury and infection."

"Miss Mason tells me there's an aid station down three levels in section Q. Take the wounded there and set up a camp," Jaal looked around at the newly assembled resistance team. "If any of you come across station personnel send them down there after making sure they aren't moles."

"Aye, sir," Max replied, then in a much lower voice to Nate, "Well guess I'll be playing doctor for a little bit."

Cowboy shrugged. "Yer a medic, Max, not a Marine," he replied, his voice equally low.

Max gave the pilot a mock look of hurt feelings, then smiled and looked back towards the Captain.

Nathan grinned and looked back at Captain Jaxom and the rest of the group. "Permission to go with Commander Smith's team, sir?" he asked. "Someone's gotta keep her outta trouble."

"I'll go with her too." Artim said as he checked the ammo status on his rifle "And before anyone asks, yes, I'm quite capable of fighting, just ask Sergent Thral on the Galaxy. Besides small people are better at sneaking.", Artim grinned with the last comment.

"I'm not that good with a phaser so perhaps I should go with those seeking food", Elrin added. His tail was clearly swishing nervously as his eyes dashed about expecting Hydrans to pop out of the nearest hatch.

"Fine," Jaal granted the request, "You, Carneiro..." he picked out others that would do the most good at the task he'd given them. "Smith, you take the rest and give the Hydrans trouble." He surveyed the group as they prepared their weapons and other equipment. "One other thing people."

They all stopped for a moment and looked at the Trill.

"Don't die. That's an order."

"Hope In Despair"

By

PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic (PC)
Ensign Jule Tejada, RN (NPC)
Lt, jg. Huele, RN (NPC)
PO2 Thrag, Logistics (NPC)

*Section Q, Field Hospital/Camp*

It was actually a great relief to Max to have to head up the field hospital and help coordinate with the intake of other survivors that were picked up along the way. It gave him a moment's pause to focus on what his job really was: Medicine. As Cowboy told him, he was a Medic, not a Marine.

So now he took the injured and other civilian survivors with him and found the first aid station in Section Q. Two nurses, Ensign Jule Tejada and Lt, jg. Huele were helping out with triaging the injured, while Petty Officer Thrag, a Ferengi with a mild disposition helped out with getting a head count and basically rounding up a scavenger party.

*Leave it to a Ferengi,* Max thought with mild humor. For his own part, he immediately began treating the most seriously injured: Thermal burns from the Hydran weapons fire, toxemia which was setting in from the same, broken bones, dehydration. It was a wonder that he was able to do as much as he could with as little as was available.

But that's what made him what he was: A Medic. The ones who got their hands dirty, the ones who responded first. He nodded as Thrag sent an update to him with what they found nearby and how many people would benefit from it. He was about to send back a reply when Huele called him over.

"He just went into arrest," advised the Bolian Nurse when Max arrived. "He's septic from the burns," she added, and Max took a good look at the patient. A Terran male, in his early twenties, burns over most of his body intermeshed with his uniform. The sudden and intense heat from the weapons discharge melted the material into his skin, adding to the burning process. Not to mention the addition of external toxins into the tissue and subsequently, the bloodstream.

There was no pulse, no spontaneous respirations, the Medical Tricorder confirming this patient just went south...permanently. "CPR, make sure that line is still patent," ordered Max, immediately in full Medic mode. There was no preamble, no preparation, no foreplay. When you're a medic, you're a medic; it's an automatic thing.

"EEG patterns have decreased by 20%," reported Nurse Tejada, who was checking to ensure that the IV in place was still delivering adequate amounts of colloidal fluid to the burn victim. It was the only vein they could find on the poor guy.

"Okay, do we have a cardiostimulator?" After getting a head shake, Max then said, "Let's continue CPR, we need to have this man intubated yesterday!" He hurried to a nearby medkit and searched for a hypospray. Next he checked to see if it was loaded with resuscitation meds, which miraculously it was. He looked the patient over. No Kelotane, no Dermaplast, nothing useful in the emergency kit except for a cardiac arrest package.

Max wanted to strangle whoever put these kits together, but banished the fleeting thought to worry about the bigger picture. "Leporazine is going in," he announced, even though no one was taking notes. He always kept a running count in his head, anyway. "Tejada, how's the rest of his body's functions?"

"Renal breakdown, hepatic degeneration, total integumentary failure, cerebral necrosis," She reported. That last did it for Max. He made a cutting gesture to stop all resuscitative efforts. "Black tag him, and move on to the next serious patient. This is a Mass Casualty Incident, and we will Triage as such." Max pulled a sheet over the young man's head.

"Dinner for Two"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief Engineer
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

(Set not long after "Calling the Commanders Bluff" Pt 3)

*** USS Galaxy, Deck 8, Crew Quarters, 1900 hours ***

"And...?" Michael asked Dhani, who was sitting across from him at the dining table. He had prepared dinner this evening for the both of them and he was curious if Dhani had enjoyed it. He'd tried to some of the recipes his mother had given him years ago right before he joined the USS Galaxy as an Ensign.

Dhanishta smiled softly. Her mind had been else where. "It's lovely." she replied placing down her fork and lifting her gaze. Reaching out a hand across the table she took his and gently squeezed it, "You never told me that you could cook." Her attention was slightly split as she conversed; a gentle smile of regret crossed her features before she spoke again. "With this revelation perhaps I should finish off that kitchenette?" she asked as she gathered the empty plates to take to the recycler.

"Do that and I might even cook more often." Michael said and flashed a grin. "So, care to tell me more about how you three made First Contact with that new species? I thought that was THE highlight of your trip but yet you barely talked about it."

Dhanishta sighed as she stood up. "There's not really much to tell." she replied lethargically. Taking the plates to the replicator she recycled them and paused for a moment in contemplation before returning to the table to collect the rest of the items. "Basically we received a distress call and replied. We helped them back to their planet and they refused to let us go without thanking us properly." She visibly retreated as she recalled the memory of the dinner; that was the part that upset her the most, angered her and lingered in her memory to distract her.

Sitting down opposite Michael once more, she smiled gently, although it was not reflected in her eyes. "We went to the dinner after a tour of the City. The Prince took a shine to Kimberly and kidnapped her that evening, with the intentions of marrying her." she paused sighing gently, "We began to research the custom, apparently 'bride raiding' is normal. We began to devise a way to rescue her ? which we were allowed to do. And then everything went ? south." Dhani said with a thud as she let herself fall into the back of her chair with resignation. She closed her eyes against the drama that played out in her mind. It was all so stupid. She huffed silently, glad that she was back among her 'own kind'.

Michael's face grew more serious. Dhani had revealed enough for him to deduce that this First Contact situation had turned out bad. "How 'south' is 'south'? Don't tell me you three added another enemy to the list 'cause that's the least the Federation can use right now."

Dhani rolled her eyes and bit back the sudden rush of anger that pumped through her veins. "No." she replied bluntly, "As if we would!" She stood up swiftly, angrily, although she had no place to go. Her head was full of everything that had happened in the last month, made worse by the fact that she had just been hauled up in front Brian by Kim and made to explain the traumatic events of the last four years of her life. She pulled the table cloth off, ignoring the fact that Michael was leaning on it. She had to do something right now and throwing that into the recycler was the only thing she could think of. The apartment was clean; she had put the dishes away? Rolling up the stained cloth into a ball she stormed back to the replicator where she paused and took a deep breath before tossing it in.

"Kimberly had to swear allegiance to the faith of the New Rhea's, which happened to be a bastardized form of christianity. She refused on the basis that she is Wicca, and bang!" She said as she leaned against the wall. She turned to face him, a mixture of pain sadness and anger on her face, "They tried to burn her at the stake Mikey." she told him fighting back the emotions that swelled.

"The stake?" Michael asked surprised, not realizing that it his remark could be interpreted like he didn't know what 'the stake' meant. He knew from history lessens that the same thing had happened on Earth, but centuries ago. He'd always thought that any warp capable species would've grown beyond such medieval practices. That obviously had been a mistake.

"Yes!" she replied irritated, "You know, a large piece of wood shoved into the ground to which you are tied to, a bonfire built around you and promptly lit." she told him with eyebrows raised signifying her indigence at having to explain that. She rolled her eyes at him and turned away. He still knew nothing of what had transpired when she got back; the talk with the captain, being dragged to see Brian, not once but twice! Retreating from the dining area she slumped on the couch.

Michael frowned slightly. Dhani might be feeling upset but that didn't mean she could take it out on him. Though, in a way, he did understand why. It seemed to be Dhani's way to relieve stress. But that didn't make it right. "Hey, I knew that! Don't get mad on me for using a rhetorical question. I'm just as 'surprised' as you that they would actually put Kimberly on the stake."

Dhanishta waved a dismissing hand. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry." she mumbled. "It was," she paused and continued in a softer tone regret laced in her voice and features, "it was just really? unpleasant is all." She let her body slide to one side her head coming to rest on the arm of the couch. Hitching her legs up she curled them under herself and stuffed her toes between the cushions. "They weren't too impressed when they found out that I wasn't human either." She shrugged, "I've never come across that before." Her brow furrowed, "I guess it threw me a bit." she admitted, "Make that a lot." she added holding out her hand she gestured for Mikey to join her.

"Yeah, that much is clear." Michael let his arms rest on the table. She seemed to calm down a bit for which he was grateful. He sure didn't want another argument. The last one still being fresh in his memory. Finally he stood up and walked towards the couch where Dhani sat. "You showed your Klingon side way too soon, even for you."

"I didn't mean to take it out on you honey." she told him taking his hand in hers. Pushing herself up she made room for him to sit. "I'm just kinda preoccupied with it all; stressed out." She looked into his eyes apologetically and smiled softly, "Forgive me baby?" she asked gently, stroking his hand.

There she goes again. Using her woman's charm. It was like she knew his defenses wouldn't hold out for long when she did that. Despite that he tried to keep up a straight face. "It's okay. It's just that... Well, we haven't seen each other in a few weeks and I expected something different from our ?reunion?."

Dhanishta smiled gently, "Oh?" she remarked trying to push her feeling about all that had happened away so she could focus on her love, "And what would that be?" she enquired, already she had a sneaking feeling of what he was implying.

Michael couldn't hide a smile when Dhani asked that. There was a twinkle in his eyes when looked hers and he motioned her to come closer. "Imagine a Tropical island at sunset. Long beaches of pure white sand. Palm-trees everywhere. There's a warm breeze blowing. The island has a remote bay and there's only this one ship there, a large white Clipper..." Michael stopped to see what Dhani would say after hearing this.

"Okay." Dhani said shuffling closer and closing her eyes. She tried to focus on his words and let herself relax. Forget about what had happened with Brian and Kimberly, forget all the accusations and threats of loosing her job and just focus on that beautiful tropical beach. She had no idea where he was going with his narrative, as unusual as it was, and slightly out of the blue, she made herself walk across the sand, feel it between her toes, hear the ocean in the distance? Kimberly's voice: 'what happened with you and Lieutenant Suder?' The question, one of many that Kimberly had raised, thumped inside her skull pulling her from the remote beach and thrusting her right back into the memory of that morning in the Chiefs office.

"Keep going." Dhani whispered hoping that Michael wouldn't notice how tense her shoulders had gotten in the last three seconds.

"Uh-uh. That will spoil it all." He got up from the couch, still holding Dhani's hand. "Come, I want to show you something. Just hold on to that picture okay?"

Frowning Dhani stood up. "Okay?" she replied slowly taking his hand and following with slight trepidation. "What's going on?" she asked him as they walked across the room towards the bedroom?

"The Itch you can't Scratch"

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zev Raynor
Vice-Chief Intelligence Officer

USS Galaxy
Corridor

The song was stuck in Raynor's head.

He had wanted to push himself to his limits just before this all began... and Mann showed up... there were attacks... injuries... deaths... and he found himself getting giddy at the thought of facing Mann... Raynor had studied Mann so thoroughly... he knew what to go for... knew how to beat the bastard... at least in theory...

But there was more than that... he felt he knew what Mann went through... Raynor himself had been made into living weapon from birth... and only got out of it when his abilities were stripped from him... he knew the rage that you could never get out of your veins... the maddening chaos that gripped you so tightly that all you could do was lash out to try and quell it... he had also started slaughtering those he had come across in the corridors... slaughtering those who made him into that weapon...

He knew what it was like... eyes that refused the acknowledge your existence until you held their life in the palm of your hand... how you could only find meaning... and acknowledgment through the death and suffering of others... Better than anyone else on board... Raynor knew what Mann was going through...

And for all his understanding of that... he only knew a fraction of the pain... because there were others like him... in the beginning at least that's what he felt... Angosians in their foolish experiments made many of their... super soldiers... People who empathized with him in the beginning... but as time went on... that feeling withdrew... because he was on another level than them... different from them... because of his telepathy...

And on top of that... no one could see him... unless he wanted them to... and... again this was only Raynor's suspicion... he didn't want people to see what a monster he had become...

But, of course, there was the major difference... Raynor had been child when that happened... and at that point... suffered that kind of treatment all his life... the target knew what it was like before he became the weapon... and that was why... Raynor suspected... he didn't kill everyone in sight... He was at war with himself... struggling with himself... trying to prevent himself from getting any worse... And for periods of time he seemed to be winning... but sooner or later he would give in...

Then again, Raynor had been granted a short reprieve from that life, and while the Federation tend to treat its living weapons better... as time went on... he was becoming stronger and stronger... his abilities more and more varied... there would become a point in time where he could no longer hide himself as an average human...

That's why Raynor had tried to stop Mann himself... because he knew all of this. No one else came close to this understanding... save maybe Eve in the split second she decided to kiss him... but even she had decided, that his life was not worth saving...

Raynor on the other hand would have saved Mann... because Mann wanted to be saved... and that made the difference between Mann and the Monster he saw himself as... that was the deciding factor that would make Raynor to not only fight Mann alone, but bring him in... alive and intact...

But all that aside... he had been excited to finally find an opponent that could actual be a challenging fight where he could go all out... one on one... it was rare... he wanted a fight now but had no one to fight... at least no one worth the effort to fight...

He slammed his fist against a nearby display console... and watched as the glass shattered and the console shorted out from the blow... he looked at his hand, which looked untouched... not a scratch on it... not even the redding from impact... for a moment he questioned what he was becoming...

And then for an instant he didn't even care...

Then he realized what he was doing...

And checked his surroundings... no one was around... and with Mann and Eve having been running around this whole time no one was going to notice one more display totaled... Just a matter of 'fixing' a couple of records...

He hadn't done anything like that since before his time on the Galaxy... There was a war coming and there would be plenty of fighting yet to come... but that would bring no satisfaction... because the way their enemies were now... he would never face any single opponent in combat that could truly prove to be a challenge for him...

And thats what he needed right now to feel... mortal...

A challenge...

"Confessions"

Lt. Elaine O'Hare
NPC

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister
JAG
Chief Liaison Officer

Location: Sickbay

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

Sickbay. A stale environment with too many memories the detective thought as she leaned against the cool tile of wall. It was in this sickbay that she recovered from many battle wounds, where she gave birth to Gillian, where she watched many comrades die, where she took reports on domestic violence, assault, and a numerous plethera of criminal activities in search for the 'bad guy'.

Many hours were spent in this small waiting room as victims were healed for the physical trauma they experienced. Over the years, the many assignments, Elaine found herself back on the ship where it all started for her. Many years passed since her days as a 'meat truck'. Experience in the field had helped etch out the small lines of age in her face. Each case had dug the lines a little further into her Irish skin. The cases combined with raising a daughter that is as head strong as she was, could cause anyone to age not so gracefully.

Hoisting herself off the wall, O'Hare chose a seat. Hardened plastic...another thing she was accustomed to. Stale, replicated coffee, hardened plastic chairs, a worn PAD with the typical questions and brass wanting answers. Her life revolved around those four items. Sad.....Elaine thought.

"Lt. O'Hare?"

The flaming red tresses raised, locking her green eyes upon the doctor that looked a little on the rough end. "Yeah?" She retorted. Lines of protocol slurred in her years with the fleet, and she didn't care.

"She's out of surgery."

"Can I talk to her yet? I have some questions...." Without thought, the Lt. extracted her padd with her stylus in hand before her line of vision fell upon the medical officer and then smirked as she viewed his hand held up.

"Not yet. She's under anesthetic still and it will be an hour or more before she's fully awake. You are more than welcome to come back at that time....." He wished she would, for just her overall presence in the waiting room set other officers ill at ease.

"I'll wait." Elaine stated firmly, expertly backing up until the backs of her knees felt the plastic of the chair. She challenged him with her eyes as she sat.

"Fine." The young physician sighed as he realized he did not have the energy to confront her after the delicate back operation. Matthesion had did an excellent evaluation, to the point of being overly obsessive and it was all he could do not to shoo the doctor from the operating room.

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

An hour and a half had passed slowly, with O'Hare getting restless. She knew when she was being ignored....or, better yet brushed off. Standing and pacing, she finally had enough as she approached the receptionist. "I'm Lt. Elaine O'Hare...I've been waiting here for over three hours to question a patient. I'm attempting to find the idiot who beat her up...so if you don't mind...can you go and check with the doctor so I can speak to her?"

Glancing over his shoulder, the nurse received the nod from the doctor who had overheard the conversation.

"Bout freakin time...." Elaine muttered as she stepped through the open doors.

"She's at the end of the hall....room 8B."

"Thank you....."

The short walk was enough to give her shivers as she arrived at the room. Glass partisans separated the nurses' station from McAlister, so she could be visually monitored as well as digitally monitored. Stepping through, O'Hare put on her best concerned police officer look and patted McAlister's bandaged hand.

Fay's head rolled, instantly attempting a smile at the woman. They had bonded since McAlister came on board for some reason. Likely, they sported the same personality. "Laine....let me guess why you are here."

"Uh huh....getting the bad guy."

"I don't know who he is."

"Bull crap." O'Hare stated simply.

"I don't remember."

Sighing, Elaine took a seat in the guest chair by Fay's bed. A genuine look of concern of her face. "Fay, come on. You and I both know you know who did this to you." O'Hare motioned to her partner, who boldly stepped into the room. He leaned over to her, and she quietly whispered. "I want any evidence from the holodeck...record's of who used it, when they used it, I want the CSI investigative report on my desk when I get back. If you need to, contact Doctor Richardson....for some reason, he wants to lead the charge on this....although....I don't know how he got authorized to do so. Also....get her uniform...what's left of it from the doc, and the pictures they took from her initial assessment. Run them to the DNA lab, have them run an eval and see if there is any match in the Galaxy's crew database. Fortunately, we are on a ship and unless the idiot jumped out an airlock, they are here." She paused. "Oh, and take the measurements they took on the hand print bruise on her neck. Size it up generally with the crew, narrow down who might have that size of hand based on body structure."

"Yes, Ma'am." Nodding as she watched him depart, she raised an eyebrow at McAlister who was scowling deeply.

"Fay, if you don't tell me who did it, I have to piece together enough evidence to arrest him myself. You and I both know that the stunt your Diplomatic officer pulled with attempting to arrest Baile was not going to fly. Just because he was in the holodeck before the attack does not a suspect make."

"I know." She whispered hoarsely.

"So, on the record, who did this to you?"

"Baile."

McAlister nodded with appreciation. "Thank you Fay."

"What happens next?" She stated quizzically.

"You know what happens hon....." Elaine quietly answered while she stood.

"Elaine...."

"Yeah?"

"The doctor's don't think I'll walk again."

"Then, they don't know the McAlister I know.....get some rest kid....." She stated with a soft smile before leaving. For the most part, O'Hare knew Fay's inner strength....or she thought she did.

"Annual Waste of Time - Part 1"

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce - Chief of the Boat
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chief of the Boats Office ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

With the Galaxy class of starship being as big as it was, over six hundred metres long, over forty decks and over a thousand crew, Kimberly wasn't surprised that there were still many people she had yet to meet. The Chief of the Boat though was one person she had thought to have met face to face sooner. In hindsight, she had probably been at meetings, or other events, with the Master Chief, but right now she couldn't recall one of them where the two had actually been introduced to each other.

Sighing, Kimberly paused before walking into the Master Chiefs office and thought for a moment. Last year, she had quite literally done this under duress, though it had taken a seven foot tall Klingon to make her actually get around to doing so, for the first time in several years. And his legacy still lurked in her files though, a note in her service jacket that he had obviously placed there; a not so subtle reminder.

Leaning on the wall outside the office for a moment, not really in a rush, she scanned the PADD in her hand. That Kol had placed a reminder there was one thing, but his Klingon perspective on life was showing in other ways (or a warped sense of humour). The reminder on her service file also had a notation on it for the computer to flag this years test scores and compare them to the previous scores. Failure to exceed last years scores would immediately notify the XO. ~ Okay, Kol isn't exactly in a position to do anything about this. ~ she thought, certainly not happy that the massive Klingon had met his demise in battle, but glad that she didn't have to face him about this again.

Whether Commander Iniara would have a similar outlook was not something she really wanted to find out either, especially with the situation they found themselves in now. If she didn't recertify she could find herself transferred off ship, and while the idea did have some appeal if would put a permanent mark on her record that could prevent her from service on an active duty ship forever.

Sighing once again Kimberly pushed off the wall and tapped the chime by the door, resigned to getting this done, ~ How did Shakespeare put it. 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends.' ~

Madden had watched the nervous Lieutenant in the medical blues for the past ten minutes or so; coming up from her rounds of the ship, she'd been on the Doc's heels since the turbo lift, and once it became clear that her office was their mutual destination, she lingered behind to determine the intentions. She'd never really been involved with Medical; they had a different style. Most of the times she worked with the nurses, medics and other enlisted staff in sickbay, it was with interpersonal issues and the like. Consequently, she hadn't seen much of the CMO outside of the senior staff briefings, and they had never been formally introduced. The fact that the Lieutenant was buzzing at her door could not be a good thing.

"Don't think she's going to answer," the Master Chief stated after Kimberly rang it a second time. She sipped her coffee, staring over the rim of the mug as the Doctor turned around.

"Master Chief." Kimberly said as she turned and saw who was behind her. Glancing back at the closed door she raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I thought you were in," angling her thumb at the door as she spoke.

"Was on my rounds. Walk almost the entire ship every day."

"That's a lot of mileage every day."

"Yes it is. About 12 miles of deck space. Lucky you found me now."

"Well, I would have found you eventually," the CMO assured the Chief. "But sounds like I'd have gotten my daily exercise doing it." She added with a smile. "Though if you walk the ship most days, that has to keep you pretty fit."

"I'm in fucking excellent shape," Madden said with a small smirk. "That's part of my job. Now, LT, what can I do for you? I know I haven't missed my yearly; I'm there like clockwork."

"You're one of the few senior staff my Department 'doesn't' have to chase when the annuals come around." Kimberly agreed with a thankful grin. "And that's a good example for all the other enlisted crew. It's the officers I'm forever chasing," she admitted. "But you're right, it's not your yearly I'm here about, it's mine."

"I may be part of the senior staff, Doctor, but I'm definitely not a senior officer, and there's the difference," Madden said, chuckling. "Now that I know I'm not in trouble, what do you need?"

Holding out the PADD she was carrying Kimberly offered it to the Chief. "It's time for Phaser and Hand to Hand recertification. Last year Commander Kol, our temporary and ever so cheerful XO at the time 'persuaded' me to get them done. Then he left a little note in my file for this year." Relinquishing the PADD to the Chief the CMO deflated slightly. "So, here I am. I asked around, and your name popped up as someone who might have the time and training to help me?" she asked, not sounding terribly enthusiastic about the thought.

"You won't be the first," Madden muttered, looking at the PADD as she sipped her coffee and moved into her office. "How would you quantify your abilities? Honestly?"

"Honestly? Well, my last year's scores are there, and that's the only gauge I have of them. I've never needed to use a phaser, or get into a fight, so based on those scores. mediocre at best." She admitted honestly as she followed the Master Chief into the office.

Madden lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, we'll see about that. How're you used to conducting this?"

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly shrugged. "Whatever's appropriate really." She said without enthusiasm.

"I mean, how do you usually do this? Holodeck? Shooting range?"

"Last year was, in all honesty, the first time I've had to do these tests in quite a while. The last time I actually used a phaser other than that was the Academy. And hand to hand is the same. Commander Henderson and I used the holodeck for a refresher before we did the hand to hand certification. Commander Kol just took me straight down the phaser range. So when I say whatever is appropriate I'll defer to your experience here."

"So you've been in Starfleet for twelve years and you've recertified all of once for hand to hand *and* phaser efficiency?"

"Master Chief, I'm a Doctor. Add to that my own personal beliefs and that means violence is not an option. If Commander Kol hadn't forced the issue last year I'd have quite happily ignored doing this again. I don't even have a phaser issued to me." She admitted.

"That's nothing unusual," Madden said, "for someone in the medical field. But, keep in mind there are crash packs in sickbay. You need to know how to operate all the material in there and operate it well. I think your central problem is that you're still thinking of phasers as weapon."

"Primarily they are." She agreed simply.

"They're a tool, Doctor, like a scalpel, a tricorder," she said, settling down behind her desk. "To be effective, they don't have to be deadly, but you have to know how to use them in order to keep it that way. Same with hand-to-hand."

"Agreed, they can be a useful tool, and again agreed, they do not have to be deadly. Personally however, I will not use a phaser, nor will I raise my hands to another sentient being." Burton said with a touch of finality.

"Annual Waste of Time - Part 2"

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce - Chief of the Boat
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chief of the Boats Office ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Agreed, they can be a useful tool, and again agreed, they do not have to be deadly. Personally however, I will not use a phaser, nor will I raise my hands to another sentient being." Burton said with a touch of finality.

Madden smirked, shaking her head. "Doctor, the species that we're dealing with now? You know what one of their most common tactics is, after they board a ship? They take out sickbay. They know us well enough that they'll aim for the blue uniforms. They'll go directly to the medical wards and they will do everything possible to kill and destroy everyone in there. What's worse Doctor? Not being able to protect the people you're there to protect, or risking the injury of another who's there to kill them?"

For a moment a look passed across the CMO's face, a medley of uncertainty, disgust, confusion and nausea. Then, shaking her head she looked the Master Chief in the eye. "That's a question I've been asked before." she admitted. "And honestly, if that situation arises I'll more than likely be too busy trying to save a life than take one. We have Security and Marines aboard so I'll trust them to do their jobs while I do mine."

"Believe me," Madden said, her tone taking that of a woman speaking from experience, "sometimes security and the marines can only do so much, especially when they're taken by surprise and horribly out numbered. These people don't care if you're not armed, Lieutenant. That's a fact. So say what you want, but passivity only holds to a point. If it comes down to you or your patient and the attacker? It doesn't matter what you say now, you'll do what you have to do. I've seen it, more times than I'd like to admit."

Thinking back, Kimberly recalled for a moment the instance on an away mission some time back, when she and Dhanishta had been stuck in a prison cell and the goon who had walked in. Feeling nauseous briefly she thought about the body on the floor, a body put there by her. Unable to deny that the Master Chief had a point, her attack on the man had been purely instinctive, even now she still couldn't recall the details of the brief fight. All she could recall clearly was seeing the body on the floor, one put there by her despite her personal feelings. Fight or flight, a basic human instinct, and when flight was not an option, there was fight.

Unable to contradict the Master Chief, her own experiences showing her that Humans still had their primitive instincts to kill when attacked Kimberly controlled her rebellious stomach. "I can't deny the sense of survival that lives in us all, and faced with the choice, I honestly have to say I don't know what will happen. But if the option is there to either kill or find an alternative, I have to say I will look for the alternative." giving the Master Chief a resigned look Kimberly bit her lip. "But I can't argue with you. But I can try to stay faithful to what I believe. What about you?" she asked curiously, "Would you prefer to fight, or look for an alternative?"

"Hell no," Madden said, actually laughing at the question. "Do I look like a Marine? I hate violence. I've been on the receiving end of it far too often and far too long. I've killed nineteen people, mostly Jem'Hadar during the Dominion War, but a couple of Cardassians too. I hate that, I hate that they turned me into one of them, even if just in a small way. But I protected my people. If I hadn't been there, they wouldn't have survived, and that's what's important to me."

"I understand what you're saying. And I do respect the position of protecting the lives of those around you. It's. I've made a choice, and for better or for worse I try to live with that choice." Looking at the Master Chief almost sadly Kimberly sighed. "Even with the best intentions, I just can't." hesitating briefly she shook her head. "It's not something I ever want to do again," she ended softly.

"Well. Again. Say what you will, but nonetheless, with the Fleet in the position it is now, it's important for everyone on the ship-- especially you officers-- to at least have an idea what you're doing. We'll approach it in a way that's more consistent with your position. I have some paperwork to finish up. Meet me on holodeck three in an hour?"

Nodding without any enthusiasm. "Holodeck Three, one hour." Kimberly repeated. "I'll be there."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Holodeck Three - Later ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Chief of the Boat lay on a bed in the holographic medical bay. It was one hundred percent to scale, everything exactly in its place: all instruments, all crash packs, all entrances and exits apparent or not. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, stretching her lower back gently as she stared up at the ceiling and listened to the thoughts of a pair of engineers in a Jeffery's tube somewhere.

She hadn't done this for some time: since early in her posting on DS5. While Madden had every confidence in her abilities as a teacher, even the best teacher could only get through if the pupil would allow. Given her earlier conversation with Doctor Burton, Madden wasn't entirely confident in the other woman's desire to learn. She'd still try to get through, to at least, give her some skill sets just in case, but... she was prepared for maximum resistance.

Madden turned her head slightly as she felt the doctor coming out of the turbolift. The holodeck doors pulled open about two minutes later.

Unenthusiastically, Kimberly had made her way down to the holodeck, this annual event was something she dreaded. Okay, Madden did have a point, the Hydrans didn't share most values half the humanoid races in the Federation did, and their outlook on things was completely different. Being in Starfleet, and being a pacifist was to many a contradiction, yet up to now there hadn't really been an issue. With the Hydrans though now making noises and with all the action the galaxy had seen recently.

"I hate this!" she muttered as she entered the holodeck. Looking around in some confusion as she walked in she frowned. "I thought we were going to just do the recertification tests?" she asked, "why the sickbay simulation?"

"I think we need to take a practical approach to recertification," Madden said, moving a little stiffly into a sitting position and then standing from the holographic bio bed. "Anyone can be trained to shoot at a target, doesn't mean they can apply it practically, especially if they have... reservations about it. Before we start, do you have any questions? About anything?"

"A multitude," Kimberly admitted as she wandered around the recreation of her work place, noting a thing or two that was out of date, "though if I think about them for a moment I can answer most myself." Pausing by one of the wall lockers labelled 'Emergency Kits' she opened it and eyed one of the type II phasers nestled in there. Pulling one out she sighed. "For now, I guess if I have any questions I'll ask as we go along. As for doing this 'practically', I assume you mean in a triage or combat situation where there are people in sickbay?" Flipping the phaser over she made sure that the holo phaser was set on its lowest setting.

"Put that aside, for a moment," Madden said. "Close the kit, and come back over by me. Before we start, we're going to try a little something called 'scared straight'. Computer. Play 'USS Antarres -- Hydran Attack'. Non-interactive."

The Antarres was an Intrepid class that had been attacked on the boarder just previous to the Triad's attack on Romulus. Although the ship survived, it did so with over 60% casualties and served as a key example of Hydran tactics: particularly when sickbay was involved. There was a full visual record of everything that had happened: every grisly detail.

"I hope you haven't eaten anything recently," Madden said, as the 'setting' repositioned from the Galaxy's med bay to one of the small class vessel. People materialized: definitely a triage setting. Casualties were being beamed in, red alert klaxons were going. The CMO was clearly identifiable, a Bolian woman, maybe only a little older than Burton, maybe a little bigger size wise. "Doctor Llas. A lot like you. Similar philosophies, actually; she might have been a little more willing to defend, but... it didn't do much for her, or for her patients, or for her ship."

She could sense the young doctor's reactions to the setting, the dread, the pounding of her heart. It was impossible to block out and Madden's psyche cringed, regretting this, but know it had to be shown.

"Sincerely, Ella"

Lt. Ella Grey

***

Dear Laura,

I'm sorry I haven't written in some time - when you read the rest of this letter you might understand why. Sometimes I feel my life would be perfect for one of those reality vids that you hate so much (excluding Survivor, of course). If only I walked around every day in a bikini ...

***

USS Galaxy

Ella shuffled into her quarters, rolling her shoulders and neck, kicking off her shoes.

She didn't have to look in a mirror to see how she looked - she could feel the grime on her face and knew from past experience that her hair would be hanging like limp noodles. Her uniform was smudged with grease and there was dirt under her nails - the price you paid for being a pilot with engineering skills. She was also pretty sure that the unpleasant scent of perspiration and fuel, and burnt hanging in the air was not just in her imagination.

It was a good thing that she wasn't running for cutest Galaxy officer because she would have lost and then some. She felt like something the Klingon dragged home -as her mother would have put it.

***

Dear Mom and Dad,

I hope to make it home for Christmas this year. I miss you both very much. I miss the house and the ocean. I think I'd kill for some of Laura's pumpkin pie right about now ...

***

Ella spent a few minutes making sure she'd be ready to go at a moment's notice before stripping off her dirty clothes and heading towards the shower. For once the spray of water didn't make her jump; maybe there was something to Victor's "sonic showers don't get you clean" theory after all although he had a lot less hair to dry than she did.

***

Dear 8-ball,

I'm thinking about dying my hair. Do you think I'd look good as a blonde?

***

The idea of fighting a war was strange, obviously not something Ella had thought about when enlisting. She wondered if her parents had back then. She wondered what they thought about it now actually. It wasn't that she thought that her parents didn't love her (although a cynical side that knew her father would be calculating the money he would be making from a growing demand of medical supplies) but Ella was sure that the idea of their only child fighting in a war was something so ... alien that they hadn't quite realized there was need to worry yet.

Ella could understand. Here she was on the brink of going to war and even she hadn't quite wrapped her head around it yet.

***

Dear Tiger,

I don't want to start this letter with another accusation, however, should I die during this war, I hope you'll think better of me ...

***

It would certainly help if there was something to do; if fighting a war was a strange concept then waiting for one was even more so. As an engineer, she'd always been busy before, during, and (especially) after a battle but as a pilot there was no more that could be done until it was time to fight. And so she stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and spent more time drying her hair than normal.

***

Dear Corran,

How many times were you restless before a battle? I wish it would just begin.

***

Ella dressed and then contemplated painting her toenails because although Laura had told her to always wear clean underwear (what if you were hit by a transport!), her mother's sage advice was to never be seen without a pedicure (what if you ran into So and So the Third with his gazillion spacebucks a year and your feet looked like they belonged to a troll).

In the end, Ella decided to sit down and write some letters.

She wrote a lengthy one to Laura, semi lengthy one to her parents, and then a not so lengthy one to 8-ball since the Vulcan had never been one to read for a long time and was even less likely to do so now that she was in a coma. Then Ella wrote a letter to Victor - the usual apology, plus declaration of love, both of which she felt would have made even a Romulan weep.

Next she wrote a letter to Corran and it somehow became the most truthful of her letters, the one that best relayed her "hopes, fears, and dreams." It was probably because they had shared their minds, even if unintentionally, to each other. It was likely that she knew Corran understood what she was about to face. She was sure that it was because a friend.

She tried to start a letter to Saul but soon scrapped it. Their "relationship" had never been about words and she knew that he wouldn't mind if her letters ever got sent. The next letter was the hardest to write and in the end it was another one that she deleted. As far as Curtis knew nothing had ever happened between them and she didn't want something like that to ever be revealed in a letter, if at all.

Finally because it would delay the time spent lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about war (and she was feeling a bit punchy) she ended with a letter to her ex fiancee.

***

Dear Thomas,

I am consoled by the fact that even if I should die in battle, you'll still be an asshole.

Sincerely, Ella

"Annual Waste of Time - Part 3"

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce - Chief of the Boat
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Holodeck Three ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I hope you haven't eaten anything recently," Madden said, as the 'setting' repositioned from the Galaxy's med bay to one of the small class vessel. People materialized: definitely a triage setting. Casualties were being beamed in, red alert klaxons were going. The CMO was clearly identifiable, a Bolian woman, maybe only a little older than Burton, maybe a little bigger size wise. "Doctor Llas. A lot like you. Similar philosophies, actually; she might have been a little more willing to defend, but... it didn't do much for her, or for her patients, or for her ship."

She could sense the young doctor's reactions to the setting, the dread, the pounding of her heart. It was impossible to block out and Madden's psyche cringed, regretting this, but know it had to be shown.

The simulation progressed just as it would been expected to: the Hydran were coming, sickbay tried to fortify, but given the constant attacks on the ship, the shielding around the section falling fairly early. The security in the room tried to do what they could, but as the Hydrans broke through, it was apparent that wasn't much. The Doctor hesitated, too long. She couldn't get to the crash pack, neither could the others. They were caught out of position. The carnage was bad -- really bad.

"Computer, stop, reset to galaxy medbay image."

It disappeared, replaced with how it was when the doctor stepped in.

"Could Doctor Llas have saved the day? No. But it's the CMO's duty to lead, and they could have been better prepared rather than relying on the kindness of the enemy and the technological protections in place."

Looking as if she were ready to be sick Kimberly took a few breaths before answering. She had heard about the Antarres, though only in reports. She'd never seen the footage. Closing her eyes a moment she found herself involuntarily replaying the events she had just seen in her minds eye, "So your saying listen, learn, fight and survive is that it?" she asked without opening her eyes. "My beliefs may prevent me from raising my hand to another Master Chief, but my staff are under no such restraints, and nor would I expect them to be. Each and every one of them does these tests each year. We hold drills and training regularly, and while I may not actively participate a lot of the time as I am usually monitoring and overseeing the simulations, we 'do' follow the guideline set by Starfleet medical for combat action aboard ship."

Opening her eyes at last she looked at Madden finally, with an almost pained look on her face. "We try to be ready for something like that, the truth though, I doubt anyone could 'ever' be ready for something like that until it happens."

"At this point, Doctor, we have to be," Madden said. "Computer, play 'USS Zephyr -- Hydran Attack,' non-interactive."

The simulation came up, and began almost like the first, though this time, there were subtle differences. When the intrusion alert sounded, the CMO, a Bajoran woman, immediately sprung into action; the crash kits were taken out before there was even the hint that the Hydrans were at the threshold. Phasers were distributed to able-bodied patients as well as medical staff; the staff divided, immediately prepping for evacuation. While the evacuation had been in the beginning stages, it hadn't panned out. When the Hydrans did break through, the medical staff had divided, part evacuating patients while the others backed up the security personal to fend off the invasion. While many died, it wasn't a total massacre.

"The goal here," Madden said, as the image disappeared, "is to instil in you the confidence and ability to lead your crew. Like it or not, doctor, you *must* accept the fact that *you* are in a leadership position and this is a *military* vessel. These people are trained to take action based on the lead of their superior officer. You are that superior officer. If you take no action, they will take no action. You must lead. Marksmanship and hand-to-hand is about confidence and leadership as much as it is about violence and defence. We're going to focus on that first set of qualities; while we will make you a better shot and perhaps even give you a few skills for the Martian dark alleyway, my goal here is to turn this off," she gestured toward her heart, "and lead with this," she gestured toward her head, "when these dire, life-threatening situations come up."

"I know I'm in charge," Kimberly replied, perhaps a touch too defensively, "and yes, I know everyone looks to me to lead them and I'm doing that to the best of my abilities right now. For now, what say we just get the damn tests over with! Please." She added in a slightly less aggressive tone. "Contrary to what some people say, and I do hear the occasional mutter here and there, I do not want to die. Nor do I have a death wish. I simply have made a choice, now that's not gonna stop me from barking orders should the need arise, or telling someone else to grab a phaser and go use it. For me, I'll just be happy right now to throw a hologram around for a bit, then shoot him, then get out of here."

Sitting on a biobed she looked around, "I do understand, but, this is sickbay and I chose to work here to help save lives. I know there are others out there who don't share our codes of conduct, and I know part of Starfleets mandate is the protection of the Federation, but that's not all we are."

Madden arched an eyebrow. "A doctor's role is to protect the life of her patient," Madden stated. "Apparently I have stricter standard for what that entails."

"Not stricter, just a different point of view Chief." Kimberly said reasonably. "But I cannot disagree that the patients' life is paramount. Anyway, we can sit here and discuss this all day, we have differing opinions, which is clear. You obviously want me to be as prepared as possible and I cannot fault you for that, I just want you to understand that there are something that 'me' personally I am not prepared to do. I'm not saying I'll stop others from doing them. Ok."

"*Master* Chief," Madden corrected. "Okay. Let's run through it, see where you are. Computer, sickbay simulation, interactive."

Nodding at the correction Kimberly made a mental note to remember that, after all she corrected others about her name. Looking around as the sickbay suddenly filled with people Kimberly appraised the situation quickly. The red alert sirens were whooping away, and the deck shifted suddenly as the ship was either hit, or hit something. Whatever it was, it was flooding sickbay with a fair few casualties. Looking around she saw her alpha and beta shifts were moving around, treating and triaging people. Stepping over to the medic by the door with the triage tags in his hand she took his PADD from him and quickly scanned it. Accessing the Ops station as well she quickly scanned not only sickbays status but got a ship status as well.

~ Two Hydran light cruisers, damage to four decks on primary hull, casualties in engineering. ~ There was more and she swiftly read the updates. Passing the PADD back she stepped into the room and reminded herself yet again to get an assistant chief who could last longer than one month, ~Am I 'that' bad to work for?~ She wondered.

Leaving Vlad to organise the surgical teams, knowing full well he'd yell if he needed extra hands she did a quick survey of the room to assure herself no-one had been overlooked, then stepped over to a bio bed where a med-tech was struggling to stem a bleeding artery.

Nervous, but not because of the situation, Kimberly kept half an eye on her surroundings as she tended to do. In a crisis she was expected to be everywhere, advising, tending wounds, triaging and performing surgery. As CMO she had learned to delegate and try to be in as many places as needed. This time though, it wasn't the fear of loosing a patient that kept her scanning the room as she often did in triage situations, but a nervousness of what was probably going to come through the door, or wall, any time soon.

After a few more moments of simulated triage the whole ship shook so violently that several people were thrown to the floor, and the alert klaxons screamed again with the cry of 'Intruder Alert'. Picking herself up Kimberly helped her patient back onto the bed and looked to the tech, "Check the graft is still holding" she ordered, even as she turned away, "Arrietty!" she called out for her Nurse just as a lone Security officer ran into the room and looked around.

"Doctor, Hydrans have boarded, this deck and they're heading this way. We have to evacu." he was saying as he door behind him literally exploded. Ducking for cover as white hot shards flew across the room she watched as the unfortunate security officer was hurled across sickbay.

Hoping the holograms reacted as her own staff had been trained to do or otherwise this was gonna look pretty stupid, Kimberly raised her voice, "Intruder Alert! Incoming hostiles." she shouted at the top of her voice, "Computer, activate all EMH programs." Sounds of weapons fire could be heard from outside, phasers and disruptors. Most of her staff had gone to work getting patients out of the line of fire, into access crawl-ways or side wards, a few were being beamed out, a handful though were opening the crash kits, and phasers were appearing.

Looking at the handful who were preparing to defend the retreating patients Kimberly wondered briefly about using this scenario for her staff, she had similar ones, but none with Hydrans. Letting the thought fade as a massive volley of disruptors passed by the now destroyed door she looked down at the phaser that had been placed there a second ago by a medtech now crouched beside her.

Looking up as something filled the smoke filled hole in the wall she raised her phaser and felt her arm tremble slightly as she took aim. ~Hologram. Hologram.!!!~ She kept repeating to herself, reminding herself again and again this was just another test to be passed.

Purple disruptor bolts lanced into the room from several points, and a volley of phaser fire answered back at the hulking shape in the mist. Squeezing the trigger on her own phaser Kimberly let loose a stream of energy at the intruding hologram. It wasn't hard to miss, however, it didn't fall. Cursing at her own forgetfulness she called out loudly, "Increase phasers to setting nine!" she ordered, ~ That damn thick hide of theirs! ~ looking up from adjusting her phaser she saw the form of the Hydran step out of the mist.

For a second her mind took in the shapes and colours of its form, then took in the barrel of its disruptor that had been levelled in her direction, "Gos-se!" she managed to swear as she tried to roll out of the way. Feeling a warmth on her back she lay on the ground as the noises and lights of the fight faded to be replaced by the emotionless voice of the computer intoning "Simulation ended. You have died."

"Message In A Bottle"

Captain Jaal Jaxom (formerly CO: USS Carthage)
Midshipman Aina Mason
Dr. June M'Kantu

==DS5 Lower Decks==

"Okay ladies," Jaal addressed his companions, "Once we get that distress signal sent, I think we should try to disable as much of the station's computer system as we can. What are the chances we can find out the station's prefix code?"

June allowed herself a smile at that. "We don't need it. Not, at least, for some things. And besides, the traitors in Command will have changed it from the old one, anyway."

Jaal pursed his lips in thought and disappointment. He should have known better. "You're right," he conceded.

"As long as we have control of the data routers, I can work on getting the signal out. If Doctor M'Kantu can make sure that they can't stop us there, I can sort of do the rest," Aina told the small group. "But we still are going to have trouble with power. If the traitors there have any brains at all, they've shut off the power to the main comm array, easiest way to stop anyone from phoning home - pull the plug."

"True," Jaal agreed, "But they also have to communicate with the Hydran ships out there. The station's comm system is the easiest way to do that. Plus, they don't 'know' we're down here yet and won't know until the internal sensors for the lower third of the station come back online, if ever. Whatever is keeping them offline is a godsend."

"I wouldn't count on that lasting forever," June interjected. "It was a sloppy, brute force job, and I've already thought of at least three ways to work around it."

"I wonder why they haven't sent down someone to look," added Aina quietly. She looked at the two, "What about the possibility of the log buoy," suggested Aina.

"If it hasn't been jettisoned already," Jaal added. Every ship and space station operating in Federation territory had a log buoy. It was akin to the 'black box' on commercial craft and contained a log of everything that happened in case of emergencies. It was a valuable tool in investigations where such vessels had been destroyed with no survivors under mysterious circumstances.

"Hmmm...." June thought a moment. "Yes, that might work if we can get it launched. Of course, they'd just shoot it down again. Maybe..." She blinked. "No, I think we can do it with just the main com array. They've got to be using it to boost the signals from their ships back to the main fleet. We just need to hijack some of that bandwidth and send our own signal out mixed in with theirs. If we're lucky, they won't see it until it's gone out and there's nothing they can do."

"We'll have to bypass the main communications system and talk to the comms array directly - we'll that is the only way I can think off and not let anyone know. If we use the com system it will be logged and if they are intelligent anything not on a white list will be stopped. But if we can talk to the main comms trunk after the system, it's just data flowing through the array. But we would have to be at the array to do that. Anything before that is logged."

Aina's eyes opened wide as a smile crossed her face, "Why don't we get one of the Hydrans to send out our message?"

"It makes sense Mason but how?" Jaal asked. He wished he'd kept up with his studies in that field. Most of the last two years he'd been concentrating on command classes.

"Well, they are using the main comms trunk, we can access the main comms trunk. If I scan the comms traffic, after a while, I should be able to track down the control and navigation signals between flight control and the ships. I mean, this close to the station, the ships will be getting navigation and control data from the station. From there, it would take a while, I could get a worm into the system, it's start looking for..."

The expression on the Trill's face took a skeptical turn. "Don't you think you're getting a little carried away?" he asked, "It will take hours to analyze all that traffic. You'd be better off trying to hack one of the Hydran ships."

Aina's smile disappeared as she just nodded and gave a slight shrug. Captain Jaal Jaxom had been the head of Operations on the Miranda and wasn't a bad hacker himself - he was someone with far more experience than Aina when it came to system architecture. But Aina's training was for this - admittedly she was without a powerful starship system to back her up and much of her data and software was lost with the destruction of the Carthage, she felt she could do it. "You are probably right," returned the young midshipman.

Jaal thought hard for a moment. "Unless..." he started and thought some more, "There might be some shortcuts you can take... 'and' keep it undetected. That's the main thing. I'm betting they don't think anyone is coming. If we can keep that element of surprise it would definitely be in our favor."

"For the moment, I think we've still got it," June mused. "If not, and if they were smart, they would have turned the whole comm system off and would be using the ships that brought the troops to the station to relay messages. and since they haven't...."

Jaal was quiet a for a moment racking his brain. "What would happen if we sent a quick message out the regular way? Can we keep it untraced within the confines of the station? Once the message is out there's nothing they can do... even if they try jamming the frequencies. The jamming signals would never catch up to the initial transmission as they're sent out at the same speed."

Regular transmissions were sent at the speed of light. Sub-space transmissions were sent at about 50,000 times the speed of light. Jaal reasoned jamming signals had to be set up first to be totally effective. "Essentially we'd be firing a torpedo at a ship before it's shields could get up. Even if the shields get raised, once the torpedo is inside their perimeter, it still hits the hull."

"But right now, we can't get to the firing station," Aina continued the analogy. "But..., I might be able to do something. But, it still needs us to get to either the main array or for Doctor M'Kantu to make sure the data routers stay clear. Once it has been transmitted..."

Aina was deep in concentration and thought as she continued, "You can't stop the signal, Jaal. They can never stop the signal."

Her face showed her disbelief as she realized she called Captain Jaxom by his first name, "Uh...Captain, sorry."

Jaal considered Mason with a slightly raised eyebrow. He was surprised at his reaction. Normally cadets were read the riot act for such folly. Not today though. "We're all under an inordinate amount of stress. Don't worry about it."

He looked over Mason's shoulder at the display. "Now, if we need to get 'to' a comm array, that might prove ... difficult. I'd rather not have to venture into the upper regions of the station right now." The unspoken reason, of course, didn't need to be mentioned. "Unless I can take a task force and a couple of marine platoons with me."

"Oh," June smiled slyly as an idea came to her, "I don't think it's as bad as all that. We don't need to go all the way up-station to do that. All we really need to do is go back to where I was when Aina and I ran across each other's code..." she nodded to the younger woman, "which is the physical juncture hooking the station's computer core to the backup core. If we can get there, then we're set; all we have to do then is let Aina assemble the message and slip several worms containing it into the backup core's files, something that's not my field unless I have more time than we're going to get. Then I cause a disruption of the main com program, forcing them to reload from the backup core's files..." she trailed off and looked at Aina expectantly.

Aina looked at June, as she giggled, "Oooooh, that is so eeeeeevil. I like it!" Her face showed her admiration for the older woman, "I wouldn't have thought of that." Starting to fidget, Aina was anxious to get underway, in getting the message out - and to prove to the Hydrans that they can never beat the Federation.

Jaal considered June's idea. "Yeah, that'll work, let's get moving. We've already wasted too much time."

<Cue up Peter Gunn theme here...>

Once they reached the terminal June started as Captain Jaxom instructed, "We need to keep the message short and to the point... Something like, 'Survivors requesting aid, come and get us!'"

Aina shrugged, "We can add a little more than that. With over a trillion lines of code over five thousand separate files ain't nobody is ever going to find what we put in. If we keep it to text and I squirt it out, you could send War and Peace faster than you can blink, faster than you can say 'it."

"I can't say I'm familiar with that work," Jaal attempted some humor.

Aina nodded, shorter was better - what was needed in the message - HELP, DS5 Attacked by Hydrans, Lots of Survivors. "I could hide it in the sync'ing with the subspace relays, if I glitch it right..." Aina stopped herself, "It be easy to squirt it out as part of the fedds."

"The what?" June asked clearly not familiar with the acronym.

"The Federation Distress Safety System," the Trill explained, "Any signal sent on the fedds will have a priority one response on it. It's an automated distress alerting and locating system, every ship and station that will receive will have to respond and report it's reception. Starfleet will know in a few hours if we do that, but the Hydrans will no longer have secrecy on their side and they will know it, it could goad them into harsher action... which may or may not be a good thing. The important thing is the message will have highest priority."

Jaal licked his lips in thought. "Let's send this... 'SOS DS5 attacked by Hydrans. Suspecting insider help. Carthage and DS5 personnel still surviving and in process of fighting back. Send aid ASAP.' That should sum it up quite nicely. Sign it 'Love J, J, and A'."

Aina nodded to the orders given to her as she tapped controls at the junction point. Only because of June M'Kantu's magic codes could she even dream of doing this with out a long process of the computer system interrogating her and then afterwards a number of very serious looking senior officers interrogating her again.

It was almost ridiculously easy inserting the code and tweaking some other lines of code in the initializing sequences of the communications systems. After setting up the message, Aina turned with a smile to both Jaal and June - "Ok all done. As soon as the system is reset and has done the initial diags, the very first message, even before any queued messages will be our 'SOS'"

Next, June took over and caused the entire system to reset.

"Excellent work ladies," Jaal told them with a grin. "Now, we have some other things we need to do..."

TBC...

===

Up in the Command Deck a console give a despondent bleep as the main communications console went dark. Human and Hydran alike turned to look at the console.

The human in front tapped at the single control to initiate reboot of the system. The hydran in command of the deck glared as he turned and looked at the human, "Find out why the communications went down. I do not want excuses. Find out which pest caused this and why and exterminate them."

"Annual Waste of Time - Part 4"

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce - Chief of the Boat
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Holodeck Three ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Purple disruptor bolts lanced into the room from several points, and a volley of phaser fire answered back at the hulking shape in the mist. Squeezing the trigger on her own phaser Kimberly let loose a stream of energy at the intruding hologram. It wasn't hard to miss, however, it didn't fall. Cursing at her own forgetfulness she called out loudly, "Increase phasers to setting nine!" she ordered, ~ That damn thick hide of theirs! ~ looking up from adjusting her phaser she saw the form of the Hydran step out of the mist.

For a second her mind took in the shapes and colours of its form, then took in the barrel of its disruptor that had been levelled in her direction, "Gos-se!" she managed to swear as she tried to roll out of the way. Feeling a warmth on her back she lay on the ground as the noises and lights of the fight faded to be replaced by the emotionless voice of the computer intoning "Simulation ended. You have died."

Madden had been sitting off to the side; the computer simulation had been pre-programmed to ignore her presence in the room so she could better watch. As the simulation froze and then reset itself, leaving the doctor 'dead' on the floor, she couldn't help herself.

She started to laugh.

It started as a soft chuckle under her breath and then slowly became a full laugh. She didn't mean it to be mean, didn't mean it as a 'hard ass' manoeuvre, didn't mean it as anything, really. It was just a natural reaction. Perhaps a little bit of anxiety mixed with a whole lot of... well. It was just funny.

The Doctor's reaction to this was clear, she looked at the Master Chief was a barely concealed expression of horror as she pushed herself to a sitting position on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Madden said, through her laughter as she waved a hand. She almost composed herself, but it lasted only a microsecond, and then the woman almost fell out of her chair. She started coughing, pushed herself to her feet and moved to the replicator in the simulated CMO's office, then grabbed a glass of water.

Getting off the floor Kimberly followed the Master Chief, truth be told she realised as the Hydran had burst in her error, but had not corrected it before firing, but the Master Chiefs reaction was as disheartening as it was humiliating. Looking as down as she felt she stood in the doorway and waited for Madden to finish drinking. "Pretty dire then." She asked simply, she had anticipated many reactions but getting laughed at was not one, nor was it pleasant.

"I'm sorry," Madden said, fully composed now, save for a slight smirk. "I'd just thought that Commander Kol had... exaggerated in his report, that perhaps he was holding you to Klingon standard instead. But... oh, Doctor. You're terrible. Remind me never to get seriously wounded when we're being boarded."

Raising an eyebrow at that Kimberly felt anger mingle in with all her other turbulent emotions, "I may be poor in combat Master Chief, but as for worrying about being wounded I can assure you I am more than competent and qualified there." Dropping the holo phaser to the floor she ignored the thud it made as it fell.

Madden's face clouded a little and she shook her head, the doctor's words emphasized by her psychic expression that shouted at the Master Chief.

"Maybe." Madden cleared her throat then finished the glass of water. "But that all being said. I'm not sure what to do to help you. And you clearly need some help, but before *I* am going to be able to offer that to you, you need to completely change your attitude and get a sizable reality check. Your thoughts and emotions right now make it very clear that you're not prepared to do that right now. Consequently, nothing that I do will reach you or benefit anyone or anything other than our collective frustration levels and my developing headache. So. I'll just give in, because I certainly have more pressing things to deal with right now."

~ Well 'I' wasn't the one who wanted to go through this absurd exercise! ~ She thought angrily, only having wanted to do her recertification and get out. The Master Chiefs words rolled around her mind and one by one emotions popped up and faded, words like 'reality check' and 'attitude change' came and went, reminding her of previous arguments and debates. So much she wanted to say, so many things came to mind, but none seemed appropriate. The Master Chief was right in one regard, she had more pressing things to attend to as well and though she bitterly resented the attitude that came across with the words, and the implication she wasn't worth the time she simply shrugged in reply.

Before the Doctor could say anything, Madden glanced upward. "Computer, phaser certification range, Starfleet Training Program Gamma Epsilon Alpha-two." She looked at Kimberly. "You have to get a seventy percent or higher to pass. Afterward, we'll do hand to hand. It should take fifteen minutes, all told, and we can both get on with our daily lives."

"Fine. Computer, begin program in thirty seconds." Programming up a phaser she picked it up and turned to the target range without another word, not really wanting nor needing to say anything else right now. Picking off targets as they started appearing and scooted around before her she found, as she had with Kol that her hand was gripping the phaser so tight her knuckles ached. In all her years in the fleet she had used a phaser once, and even then that had been as a detonator to destroy a hazard to navigation.

Ignoring Madden and everything else she let her mind take over and her wrist flicked from target to target of its own accord. As she realised she was hitting more than she missed she found herself wondering what happened if she passed the basic requirements, but failed to live up to Kol's expectations, there were more than a few targets that winked out of sight before she hit them.

The Master Chief watched in silence, only breaking it upon the completion of the target practice and the shift to the hand-to-hand trial. She watched with a tight mouth drawn into a line, then called the results up on the padd.

Madden sighed softly.

"Congratulations, Doctor," she said. "Rounding up two tenths of a percent on your hand to hand -- you've passed. Barely. Think about what's happened today. And if you decide that it's worth putting aside some of your lofty ideals, come and see me."

Breathing a little faster and deeper than earlier Kimberly wiped several stray droplets of sweat from her brow, hand to hand was not her favourite thing in the universe and the last ten minutes had been sheer unadulterated torment as far as she was concerned. "Passed, great." she said tonelessly, for a moment she debated her response to the Master Chiefs last comment but then decided that that was enough for today, "no offence Master Chief but right now I doubt it. Thank you for your time and assistance."

Turning Kimberly headed for the door, grateful that for another year this onerous task was done, pausing before she left though she turned to face the senior NonCom, "There was a time Master Chief when thinking as I did was enough to get you shot for cowardice, or incarcerated for dereliction of duty. Neither happens in this day and age because peaceful options and opinions aren't dismissed out of hand. I know not everyone shares my views and I know it's a dangerous universe," shrugging, "who knows, maybe one day I will come and see you. But not today." Without waiting for a reply she turned and left.

"The Sound of Silence"

Lt. Jg Robert Mathieson, MD

Sickbay
======

The voices were legion, loud and unrelenting in their constant prodding of Robert Mathieson's psyche. Like green timber cut with a dull saw, the old man's frayed nerves drummed a steady, merciless tempo into the man's brain with each spoken and unspoken syllable.

"Doctor, could you please take a look at this?"

"Hey Doc - I know Risa's kinda exotic, but should this smell like this?"

"Bob - the patient in the third bed doesn't want to take the medication you prescribed. Says it's 'yukky'."

"Doctor, Lieutenant Burton needs the spot check on the protoplaser resupply parts done pronto."

"Doc, I didn't know the bat'leth could lop off a hand - I thought it was more of, y'know, a piercing weapon."

"Huhh... huhhh... all I did was return the phaser missing... huhhh... a powerpack. Huhh... huhhh... she... huhhh.... didn't have ... huhhh.... to do this, did she Doc?"

~Is this what humanity's medical is suited for human? Proctological removal of firearms and the petty whims of the masses?~ Talvath Raal's constant 'voice' prodded. ~I know nothing of these Hydrans, or Breen, or T'Kith'Kin, Doctor - but based on what I see of YOUR race, your war should be mercifully short. Is your 'Federation' used to servitude, or do you think it will be a while before you come to know your places?~

"Shutyerfrikkin'gobyefrikkin'troglodite"or some such statement was the usual retort, and unfortunately sometimes verbal instead mental. The staff on Delta shift knew the old man had gone through something more than a little unusual during 'the Romulan thing' - they all had - and assumed that his age was making him a little slower to adjust. The patients were simply scared that the man mending their bumps and briuses seemed to be having abusive conversations with himself.

It was hovering over the sleeping figure of the village idiot who had severed his own hand that Mathieson made a snap decision to preserve what little of his sanity remained. While other staff were preoccupied, and the remaining patients asleep, the old man emptied half the contents of the hypospray into his own arm.

Triptacedrin was developed during mankind's first war with the Klingon Empire, and it was sorely needed during that bloody conflict. A powerful narcotic, it was said that 30cc's could knock out an Algorian mammoth in seconds. With half a cc' coarsing through his system, Mathieson realized that the mammoth would probably have a pretty big smile on its face when it hit ground. The Englishman's world quickly became softer in sight, and altogether quieter in mind. The dead Vulcan's mind-scream was barely a whisper before it was drowned out by a blissful silence.

~... human! you don't know what i can offer during these times! don't ...ilence me! ..ot ow... ..uma... ope. war i... ....... . ...stan... ..ease!~

Then there was only the sounds of a sickbay. Humming scanners. Quiet consultations. Snoring and bitchy patients. Bliss. He could even stomach his old Kelvan friend Kylar Curran - Mister 'Big Picture' himself.

~Wonder what ever 'appened to 'im. Likeable bloke.~

His shift ended without further 'conversations' and when the old man left sickbay for his quarters smiling they assumed that his recovery from someone elses' katra being imposed on him had turned a corner, unaware that the additional 50cc's of Triptacedrin in his pocket may have been a contributing factor to his good mood. When he arrived at his quarters, all he saw was the small but comfortable bed where he would experience the sleep of the just.

Or the dead. Frankly, he didn't really care which.

A spot of music was played, sweet melodious music, to accompany him to that cave where Orpheus bestows his precious gifts on those mortals seeking them. The psychedelic feedback-laden guitar mastery of Jimi Hendrix echoed as strongly on the galaxy as they did hundreds of years ago...

If you can just get your mind together
Uh-then come on across to me
Well hold hands and then well watch the sunrise
From the bottom of the sea
But first, are you experienced?
Uh-have you ever been experienced-uh?
Well, I have
Not necessarily stoned, but... beautiful

"Planning To Fight Back, Part 2"

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==

"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, absentmindedly playing with a small, loose spring he had found. Unlike most of the other people in the room, who still had their guns, and, in some cases, were anxiously petting them like toy dogs, Thyago's phaser had been immediately taken from him when they stumbled upon other survivors. Of course, there was good reason for those with him to take it. During their journey, he had accidentally set it off and nearly shot Cowboy in the foot.

Afterwards, he had found the spring, and that left him content, for it was shiny and bouncy.

"Should we really attack them? 'Cause as far as they know, as best we can tell, they think they vented all these decks to space. Like, the primary air shafts are still sealed up there. Wouldn't attacking them let them know they failed and that there are still people down here, waiting to be slaughtered? And second, this relates to your middle objective, which was something along the lines of staying alive, there are at least a thousand civilians who were down here, and much less than a thousand guns. What do they do, where should they go? And eat. Sparky said we can't use the replicators, and, we're both hungry. I mean, it sounds like she's got an angry tiger in her stomach, ta ligado?"

Jaal looked at the engineer with disbelief clearly displayed on his face. He really couldn't believe he was being asked this. On the other hand, Thyago had displayed such cowardice on the last mission they were on together. "Yes," Jaal said sternly, "We 'should' attack them. Once the distress signal is sent, it should only be a matter of hours before someone gets here. Then we can eat after we're rescued. Besides, I'm sure there's a lounge or cafeteria we can raid down here somewhere. Any 'other' questions?"

"Sorry, Sparky, I tried," Thyago said, whispering quietly to Aina. Her stomach grumbled once more in response, a low, moaning whine, which sounded like a cat near death, lying in the street after being hit by a car. "Are you sure you don't have an alien symbiote in there? Seriously, I think its trying to communicate."

Aina looked at the engineer, the ridges in her nose increased in size from annoyance, as a she lashed out a half hearted punch on Thyago's arm.

"Yes," June sighed regretfully. "I've got a few questions. Starting with this one: why are you ignoring his question? Especially," she continued pointedly, "when he's right?"

"I think he's still mad at me 'cause I didn't want to get shot on the last mission we were on together, even though no one knows about that 'cause that mission log is classified for some reason," Thyago guessed.

Arel opened her mouth to say something, remembered Jordan's words to keep an open mind, and then shut it again. They wanted to do it their way - fine. But when she was burning in Grethor for being a coward with a full stomach, she was going to be very unhappy.

"Ah gotta agree with them, sir," Nathan added. "'Course we have a duty to fight back and do whatever we can to make the Hydrans' lives here a livin' Hell, but we ain't gonna do much good if we don't eat. And then there're the civilians Thyago was talkin' about. That's a lotta mouths to feed, and civilians ain't gonna take 'Wait 'til we've bloodied the Hydrans' noses up a bit' fer an answer when they start demandin' that we find 'em some food."

Captain Jaxom knew they were right. His thoughts were the rest of Starfleet would get there before anyone starved to death. "I figured the rest of the fleet would be here before anyone starved to death," he explained himself out loud.

"Nonono," Thyago said, "I just added that thing about being hungry at the end there 'cause I'm hungry and we can't use the replicators. I mean, its only been a few hours since the attack, and I'm a dancer, I know how to starve myself. The bigger thing was the over-a-thousand people, made of kids and old people and some sick and injured and at least one weird hunch-backed mouse-like creature. Surely you're not going to make them fight, right? 'Cause, you know, they're civilians, and stuff? I'm just saying calling attention to ourselves may not be the best thing, you know?"

"Well, there's a couple more things to consider", Artim said finally piping up, "First, the Hydrans had some ace up their sleeve to be able to sneak in so easy. I for one would like to know what that edge is and how we could exploit it. Secondly, well, we may have friends in places we don't realize..."

"Ah never figured you fer the religious type, Shorty," Cowboy joked.

"God is clearly on your side when you're my age flyboy", Artim quipped back.

"The edge they had is easy enough to answer," June replied. "We were betrayed. They suborned or replaced with clones or shapeshifters or something else, members of the Admiral's command staff. They were the only ones with the access codes to do what was done to the station so quickly, and for it to happen that smoothly, they were waiting for a specific time to do it in a systematic, organized fashion."

Jaal nodded, "We were thinking the same thing. There had to be insiders working against us."

The Trill rubbed his chin in thought for a few moments. They were right, they were 'all' right. There was too much going on for just a simple unprovoked attack on a Federation space station. They also had to do something about the other survivors and providing for them. Otherwise, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel for the Hydran boarding parties.

"All right," he said suddenly, "Group two will look for civilians and food stores and bring what they find to the lower decks. We can keep organized and pool resources that way. Group one, Smith's group, will use Guerilla warfare tactics to keep the Hydran patrols off balance," Jaal looked at Arel now, "'Try' to keep it quiet and not give us away?"

Arel was unhappy. 'Keeping it quiet' meant lots of sneaking and other tactics that were generally difficult to work your honor around - unless you were an assassin of course. But if those were her orders. "Yes, Sir."

Gathering food? Max thought indignantly. He wanted to fight, to avenge the people on the station who were slaughtered, the people he couldn't do anything for. Not go out and find take out for the masses. But the boss handed out the marching orders now, so he simply kept his mouth shut, his mouth a thin line of frustration and his fingers dancing on the handle of his sheathed K-Bar knife.

"Sir," the Medic in him suddenly came out and spoke, "if anyone has in their possession a Medkit or two, I'd appreciate it if I could have one of them. There are several wounded that need some kind of immediate care. I would really hate to have to battle both injury and infection."

"Miss Mason tells me there's an aid station down three levels in section Q. Take the wounded there and set up a camp," Jaal looked around at the newly assembled resistance team. "If any of you come across station personnel send them down there after making sure they aren't moles."

"Aye, sir," Max replied, then in a much lower voice to Nate, "Well guess I'll be playing doctor for a little bit."

Cowboy shrugged. "Yer a medic, Max, not a Marine," he replied, his voice equally low.

Max gave the pilot a mock look of hurt feelings, then smiled and looked back towards the Captain.

Nathan grinned and looked back at Captain Jaxom and the rest of the group. "Permission to go with Commander Smith's team, sir?" he asked. "Someone's gotta keep her outta trouble."

"I'll go with her too." Artim said as he checked the ammo status on his rifle "And before anyone asks, yes, I'm quite capable of fighting, just ask Sergent Thral on the Galaxy. Besides small people are better at sneaking.", Artim grinned with the last comment.

"I'm not that good with a phaser so perhaps I should go with those seeking food", Elrin added. His tail was clearly swishing nervously as his eyes dashed about expecting Hydrans to pop out of the nearest hatch.

"Good, then we have our groups. Let's get to work people," Jaal said. And DS5's new resistance was formed.

~You know that thing I slipped into the DS5 planning JP that no one noticed? Yeah, this is where I pay it off. And, yes, this is my title.~

Thyago Carneiro

"Dude, that's totally crappy," Thyago said as he inspected the work of one of his volunteers. There were gaps where he had moved too quickly, and giant melted globs when he had moved too slowly. "I thought you said you knew how to weld, Jimbo."

"My name is John," the man corrected quietly, then answered, "I knew how in high school."

Thyago looked him over, unable to decide how long ago that was. "Well, you gotta move more evenly. This isn't gonna hold. I mean, I could kick this off with my shoe, entende?"

"Entende?"

"Um, understand," Thyago translated sheepishly, realizing that he slipped into his native tongue often.

"No," John said, "What is this for anyway?"

Thyago looked back at the other three volunteers he had wrangled. Their welding lamps were lit and glowing, and liquid metal sparks rained down from where the electric arc met the metal. They were all lined up against the bay door, each with a seventy-five pound angle iron. "You remember that little windstorm about an hour ago, Jimmy?"

"John."

"Sorry. That little windstorm? That was the Hydros--"

"Hydrans."

"That was them trying to vent all our air into space. Now, we stopped them, que e bom. And they don't yet know they failed, as far as we can tell, que e bom, tambem. But, eventually, they are going to find out, and I don't want the Hymens--"

"Hydrans."

"Dude, Joe, stop interrupting me. I get enough of this from Tex."

"John."

"No, his name is Tex."

"No, I meant I'm John."

"Oh. Anyways. I don't want them to find out and try again, not with nearly a hundred-fifty povos in this cargo bay. All they would have to do is open the door and, bam, all dead. So, we're sealing it shut."

"BAAAAAAAN!" That loud erruption was from neither Thyago nor John. That was the large, hunchbacked rodent-like creature with snaggled teeth and crossed eyes that stood next to them.

"Okay, so what is he doing?" John asked, referring to the alien.

"Oh, Mickey?"

"Mickey?"

"Yeah," Thyago said, "Mickey the large, hunchbacked, cross-eyed, snaggle-toothed mouse.....like creature."

John looked at the Brazilian with a very uncertain face. "Uh, okay."

"I don't know," Thyago said, answering John's original question, "He just started following me around. I think he likes the way I smell or something."

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"He doesn't speak?"

"He doesn't have a translator. I don't know why. I don't think what he does say qualifies as language anyway. I think he's 'special,'" Thyago said, holding up his fingers as quotation marks around the word 'special.'

"Ah."

"Like, I mean he's retarded."

"Yes, I-- yes, I knew what you meant."

"BAAAAAAAN!" Mickey shouted gleefully.

"Not that that prevents him from communicating. He says lots of things. Watch. Hey, Mickey, what do hydrogen and oxygen do to form water?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Bond, yes. And the coolest British spy ever was?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Bond, James Bond. I agree completely. And, when you toke up, what do you use?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"A bong, yes, some people do--"

"Okay, I get it," John said quietly, growing tired of the joke. But, Thyago could not be stopped so easily.

"And what about that girl over there did I find so hot?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Her bod, yes. Muita bonita. And this guy is who?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Bob, yes--"

"My name is John!" John erupted, but neither Thyago nor the mouse-like creature were phased sudden display of anger.

"Oh, sorry, Mick, he say's his name is John. You lose, I'm sorry."

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Look, maybe I should just get back to welding," John offered.

"Yes, you do that. And go steady, this time. Good welds only," Thyago said, "because bad welds are what?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Yes, bad. Life-threateningly bad. Entende?"

"Yeah, okay," John said, dropping his mask and returning to his welding. Immediately, his electric arc lit up, and the sparks began to fly, which was enough, fortunately for John, to remove Thyago and his new friend from John's world.

"Okay, Mickey," Thyago said, "Lets go annoy the guy passing out food until he gives us some. Because food is the what?"

"BAAAAAAAN!"

"Yes, food is the bomb."

OOC: Occurs as the Hydrans invade the station.

"Take Me To Your Leader"

Commander Veziran Solas
Aide to Rear Admiral Proctor

****
Deep Space Five
0609 hours
****

Veziran Solas sighed and cracked her knuckles, slowly placing her hands finger-by-finger on the full-size keyboard before her. It was an old style keyboard, the kind that had been in use since Earth's 19th century. Nowadays the thing was considered clumsy, inefficient, and horrifically outdated, but Veziran loved it anyway.

She'd first used this style of keyboard over two hundred years ago, back when Earth was barely considered a player in the realm of galactic politics and the Federation was nothing more than a pipe dream, and she had grown to like the feel of such devices. The smoothness of the keys, the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping sound they made when pressed, the fact that each key represented a single letter or character within the group, unlike some of the more modern forms of data entry that relied on a collapsed keyboard or no keyboard at all... It wasn't the most efficient method of data entry by any stretch of the imagination, but it was comforting to use, and that was why Veziran had refused to give it up.

The particular model on Veziran's desk was a bit of an oddity. With far more than the 130 keys found on standard 22nd Century keyboards, half a meter across and just as deep, Veziran's keyboard was quite a sight. Every key had a tiny holodisplay embedded in it that projected an image onto the glossy, transparent aluminum surface of the key itself, allowing a near infinite number of possibilities when it came to configuring the thing. Despite its somewhat archaic appearance the keyboard had its fair share of modern touches; the entire thing had been designed to mesh seamlessly with other Federation technology, both in terms of look and function. Made from a single sheet of durasteel with a completely sealed interior, the keyboard was guaranteed to last at least two hundred years before maintenance was required, which seemed like a reasonable life span in the El-Aurian's eyes. It was also capable of interfacing with any type of Federation computer, from the station's main computer core all the way down to a small padd or tricorder, should such a setup be necessary.

Not that it had been in the past half century since she had obtained the keyboard, but it was always good to be prepared.

"Computer, begin logon processes, authorization Solas-Alpha-Alpha-One-Niner-Delta-Tango-Seven," she called out, her fingers suddenly flying over the keyboard as she tapped out a complex series of strokes on the still blank keys: the second half of her login credentials.

"Access granted," the computer responded in its bland voice. Veziran ceased her key tapping as the screen before her popped to life, streams of information already running across its surface. "Good morning, Commander Solas."

"And good morning to you too," she replied in a whisper. Squinting at the tiny streams of colored text shooting by on the screen, Veziran idly tapped three fingers on the keyboard, waiting for the computer to finish synchronizing her messages and loading the day's required paperwork. The console chirped pleasantly after several seconds, indicating that it was ready for use. Beneath her fingers, the previously blank keys began to glow softly, the holodisplays automatically powering on and displaying a default layout.

Humming softly to herself, Veziran began to pore through the morning's messages, quickly prioritizing the work-related ones and marking the few personal ones to deal with later. Having completed that she made a quick check of Admiral Proctor's calendar, confirmed that the woman had no appointments until her meeting with Ambassador J'aeln at 1100 hours, and then moved on to her document queue.

It never ceased to amaze Veziran how much paperwork the average Starfleet officer dealt with on a daily basis. Being as old as she was and having had three distinct Starfleet careers, Veziran had had more than enough first-hand experience with the constant increase in paperwork over the centuries.

"Two hundred years ago we didn't even have aides," she mumbled, calling up the report at the top of the list. For some reason it had been marked urgent, though it was nothing more than the Delta Shift security briefing, which needed nothing more than Proctor's signature before it could be filed.

Veziran sighed, flagging the report as 'signature ready' before moving to the next one, a decommissioning report on the USS Bonestell. She frowned, wondering why this had even been sent to her inbox. Sure, she'd spent a brief amount of time aboard the aging science vessel in the recent past, back when she and a handful of other station personnel had been captured by Orion pirates and sold to some bizarre fishing operation on the Ivor colony. That had been an interesting trip...and there had been mountains of paperwork and reports filed in relation to the incident once she and the other captives had been rescued. But that didn't explain why now, half a year later, a report on that old piece of junk ship had made it across her desk.

"Whatever," she muttered, typing a quick reply to the report's author. "Request...clarification..." she continued, repeating the words as she tapped them out, "...does...this...really...concern...the Admiral..."

The next report was significantly more interesting...or at least, it would be to the Admiral. Not bothering to read or even open the daily report on June M'Kantu's comings and goings, Veziran changed its priority to high and transferred it to one of the oversized padds on her desk. In truth she could care less about a lengthy report on a single civilian's daily activities about the station, but Proctor was no doubt salivating over these tiny morsels of information, bits and pieces that she might someday be able to use against her nemesis, Captain Daren M'Kantu himself.

Veziran couldn't help but laugh out loud at that mental image. Shaking her head slightly, her messy brown hair rustling softly with the motion, she advanced to the next report.

The screen flickered, then returned to the M'Kantu report. Veziran frowned, once more tapping the tiny square key displaying 'advance' on its softly glowing surface.

The screen flickered again, then went out. "What the--" But before she could get out any more words, the screen came to life again, displaying an image that looked nothing like the reports she had been reviewing.

Veziran snorted. She was not in the mood to deal with this, even if the image of a humanoid hand with a single finger raised in salute was relatively harmless. If this was someone's idea of a practical joke...

"Computer, identify source of this image."

In response, the screen flickered once again, a string of text now joining the picture of the middle finger. "'Seconds until Hydr--' What the hell! Computer, what is going on?"

The computer gave no response. Veziran slapped at her keyboard, trying to elicit some sort of reply from the machine. The keyboard beeped angrily, the current display flickering out, only to be replaced with the image of a countdown clock displayed on each of the nearly two hundred keys of her keyboard.

Fifty seconds.

Veziran growled in frustration, realizing that once again at well over 450 years of age, she might be getting too old for this. She jabbed at her commbadge. "Solas to Admiral Proctor." Nothing. "Solas to Station Ops." Nothing. "Solas to Main Bridge. Solas to anyone."

Thirty eight seconds.

If this was indeed real and not some elaborate hoax by some jerk who was about to spend the rest of their worthless life in a penal colony, others would have to be warned. Pushing away from her desk Veziran stood, crossed the small room to the exit, and nearly ran right into the door. Taking a step back she tried again, this time waving her hand in front of the door to try and activate the motion sensor. When that didn't work she pressed the manual open button on the door's control panel. And when that didn't work she hauled back and kicked the thing, booted foot slamming loudly into the door. She cursed loudly as pain shot up her leg and back down through her foot.

Twenty three seconds. Twenty three seconds and a jammed toe.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" she exclaimed, her mounting level of frustration causing her to regress back to lower forms of Earth vernacular. Briefly she considered manually overriding the door and forcing it open, but a quick glance at the screen on her desk indicated she didn't have time for that.

Nineteen seconds.

She cursed again, realizing that for better or for worse, she was stuck here for the time being. Stuck in her tiny stupid little office with no real weapons, only a handful of padds, a couple dozen isolinear chips, some furniture, and one ridiculously oversized keyboard.

And the keyboard was pretty heavy...

"No. No no no no no," she repeated moving away from the keyboard. That thing was too valuable and practical and awesome to use as a weapon against some ugly three-legged Hydran foot soldier. She would just have to think of something else.

Ten seconds.

She could use that heavy vase...

She could try and escape through the ceiling...

She could hide...

Four seconds.

Three.

Two.

One.

As if on cue the station shuddered violently, causing Veziran to lose her footing and fall against her desk. The station shuddered again, the motion accompanied this time by the blaring noise of the station's red alert klaxons. She cursed for a third time, rubbing her side where it had hit the corner of the desk. A knot was quickly forming; there would be a nice bruise there in a day or two...assuming she lived that long, of course.

"Definitely too old for this!" Veziran exclaimed, pulling herself up and staggering back towards the door. She knew enough of the Hydrans to know that she had to get out, find a place to hide, and fast. Remaining in her office was all but a death sentence.

Opening the door's access panel she began to fiddle with the manual release controls. To her dismay it seemed that all of the override codes had been locked out. Whoever did this was rather thorough, she mused as she grabbed the release handle and pumped it several times. Nothing. Rolling her eyes, she tried it again.

This time the stubborn door complied, popping open with a loud hiss. A flash of movement through the narrow crack caught her attention, and before she could react Veziran found herself staring straight down the barrel of a very large gun. Shocked, the El-Aurian stumbled backward, tripped over her own feet and landed unceremoniously on her rear end.

A pair of fleshy purplish hands forced their way into the crack and effortlessly forced the doors open, revealing the largest Hydran Veziran had ever seen. Of course, never having seen a Hydran in the flesh, Veziran had no way of knowing that said Hydran was more than a little on the small side for his race.

Gi'Mereth Th'Fet'Thal gazed down the barrel of the gun at the biped. Human, he thought, or humanoid at the least. Female. Unlike the females of his homeworld she was tiny and weak, he concluded, leveling his gun at her torso. Not worth his time.

"Shit, wait!" Veziran screeched, holding her hands before her in a sign of surrender. "Don't shoot! I'm worth more to you alive!"

Th'Fet'Thal grunted, but lowered his weapon slightly, giving the puny female a closer look. She didn't appear to be anything special, but the rank device fastened to her uniform... He was still young, but the Gi'Mereth had been taught to recognize the ranks of his enemies, the Federation Starfleet included. Three gold circles meant the female was what they called a 'commander', roughly equivalent to a Qasar'Mereth. Perhaps the female would be of some use, at least as a hostage. If nothing else, the snapping of her bones as he reduced her to a pile of component parts would provide at least a few moments of entertainment later.

He grunted again, lowering his weapon yet still keeping it ready. "Stand, Starfleet."

Without hesitation Veziran did as she was told, keeping her hands up as she got to her feet. The Hydran had recognized her rank, she concluded, and probably thought she would be a good bargaining chip. Or torture subject. Either way, it meant that for the moment she was still alive. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

She looked up at him, wondering just how she was going to get out of this situation. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she opened her mouth to speak. "Uhm...take me to your leader?"

"Silent Treatment"

Ella Grey
Corran Rex

The decks were quiet even for - what was programmed to be - three in the morning.

Ella Grey walked slowly, free to meander now that the killing spree was over. She ran her fingers along the wall and stopped occasionally to regard computer panels that she could remember repairing once upon a time.

She wasn't surprised when she found herself at Corran's door. He had been on her mind lately - truthfully, in ways that she wasn't too happy about - and she guessed that she had avoided this conversation for long enough.

Ella gave an old fashioned knock and when he didn't answer she tried Corran's old security code. The door slid open and she wondered briefly if he'd kept it that way for her or if he'd simply forgotten before stepping inside.

His living room was different. Some areas were overrun with items like books or computer PADDS and in others it was damn near immaculate. Some of his decor had either been moved or changed or there were spaces that seemed deliberately empty. Corran didn't realize it, but his quarters had become even more of a reflection of his increasingly scattered psyche. Each portions of the rooms looked as though they'd been done by a completely different person.

On the whole, the room reminded her of when her mother had hired some interior designers to spruce up the Grey home and it had come out looking like a mash of conflicting designs - tiny little pockets of personality, none of them cohesive.

It hadn't occurred till then that he might not be alone and Ella stopped to listen. Not hearing anything she stepped around some random pieces of clothing strewn in the hall and into his bedroom. They were, she noted, all male clothing. And unless Corran had proclivities he'd never shared with her, she took that to be a good sign.

He was in the bedroom, it turned out, seated Vulcan-style on the bed itself. He was, apparently, meditating. "Hello, Ella." he said quietly.

She did not note that he had not even opened his eyes before he'd said it.

Ella looked at him and the words, the explanations, and how they were going to form on her fingers went away. She crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed and then bit back a swear word when he looked away with a guilty expression.

Corran felt himself... embarrassed. He didn't understand what was happening to him - how he could suddenly read minds. Thankfully, what he mostly got was annoying, low-level mental 'chatter', something he was already used to.

What had happened with Ella in sickbay, however - that was something else entirely.

She'd seen him for the monster that he really was.

She frowned. Scream at a guy because of an accidental forced mind meld and he thought it was the end of the world. Ella pursed her lips and then moved her head to one side as she considered.

He must have caught something leaking from her mind because he inhaled sharply a moment before she moved to straddle his lap. His eyes were wide with surprise, always an expression she had loved to sneak from him, and then he tried to push her off saying something about 'not right' and 'dark side' and she listened carefully before giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

And then Ella pulled off her shirt, put her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow that said he'd better get busy.

A better man would have, perhaps, chosen to push her away, to take the noble route and all that.

Corran Rex simply accepted - rather enthusiastically once properly convinced - the comfort that Ella Grey had to offer.

Afterwards, they lay together in his quarters. Corran was amazed at the depths of emotion she felt for him, coming from her. He'd thought that, perhaps she hated him when things had ended.

She sat up so that he could see her sign; the new implant had not been completed yet. ~~You touched a part of me that I wasn't ready to share. And on top of the attack, your memories ... it was all a little overwhelming. I've never hated you~~

"You should." he interrupted hoarsely, cutting her off. It was a little hard to make out her hands in the dim lighting of the room, but the highlights played off of her hands enough for him to make out her words.

Ella gave him a look and crossed her arms.

"How can you not?" he started, and Ella was wondering, just for a moment, if he was actually talking to her or someone else. "I hate myself, Ella. I've never - I haven't felt anything like this in my life, ever. I was dealing, but - you KNOW. You SAW what I did, what I WAS!"

She shrugged. ~~And you saw what I did, what I AM.~~

"You weren't responsible for that." Corran replied sharply.

Ella could have easily retorted that he wasn't responsible for what his symbiont's prior host had done but knew that with the way he and Rex were bonded that in his mind there was no difference. ~~Of course not. I meant the later part. Anyway, you're not a monster, Corran.~~

"How can I not be?" he asked after an all-too-long moment of silence. "I remember it, Ella, every minute. I remember the.. joy I took, in hunting those girls down. Thirty-two of them, Ella, and I remember every single look of terror on their faces, and every syllable of every pleading word. I remember the sound of their screams, and the feel of their warm blood on my hands. Tell me how I can remember all that, and then tell me I'm not a monster."

He turned away from her as he stood. It was petty, he knew, to be so obvious about turning away from her only means of communication.

She cleared her throat, and when he didn't turn, considered lobbing a pillow at his head. That, of course, would be childish, immature, and ... oh, the hell with it.

His pillow hit it's target.

Corran turned around, his absolute shock at so ridiculous a thing clearly evident on his face.

~~It's rude to walk away from a conversation~~ Ella signed sweetly.

Corran just snorted.

~~Corran, I'm sure you remember having an ethics conversation somewhere in your life about the difference between thinking and doing. You can remember all you want, you can say that it was you because part of you was him, blah blah blah, but in the end are you going to up and murder thirty women just because you remember doing it? Jesus, my Romulan katra was an assassin and you don't see me going to kill people left and right. And having been the victim for far too many times then I'd care to think about, I think that I'm qualified to judge who is and who is not a monster.~~

Ella paused to shake out her hands which had begun to cramp slightly. ~~So ... there.~~

Corran sighed softly as he sank back down onto the bed next to her.

A long time passed before either one of them spoke again, as he considered all of her words. When he broke the silence, his voice was still hollow, defeated. ~I know all of that, ~ he thought silently. ~But it doesn't make it feel any different.~

Ella nodded and then laid her head on his shoulder. He probably never would feel completely guilt free but she hoped that he'd at least get it into his thick skull that she didn't see him as a monster.

It never occurred to Ella that he hadn't actually spoken the thought aloud.

"Stay here tonight, with me?" he finally asked, his voice nearly breaking with hesitation. "I'd.. I'd like to not be alone for once."

She answered by kissing his cheek lightly and taking his hand.

"Avenge Me"

Lieutenant J.G. Faylin McAlister
JAG

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer

Location: Sick bay

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

Modern medicine was an oxymoron if the woman had ever heard of one. Having McAlister restrained to keep from injuring her back as it healed was a death sentence to anyone that was ordered to care for her. Nurses avoided the bad tempered woman, purposely skittering past her in an attempt to avoid another request for something to do or someone to talk to.

Sighing, Fay flung the data padd to the small stand beside her bed. She had enough, albeit it had only been a few days since she arrived, she was ready to get back to work...even if it meant being in a wheelchair. She still had no feeling in her legs, which pissed her off even more. Picking up another padd, she continued on her list of revenge ideas aimed straight at Baile.

"Number 26.....trap him in a garbage compactor with a giant squid...."

she muttered to herself.

"Fay-Fay?"

The corner of the hall was obscured by a dark-green curtain. Behind it, for two hours now, Saul's left arm was was being given a periodic treatment by the Galaxy's Doctors in order to prevent it from deteriorating any further while being held in the protective encasement. A small side entrance led to that corner directly, so Saul had no idea that he was lying meters from his ex-lover.

"Saul...." She half eeked out with a somewhat plastered grin on her face.

A short negotiation with the Doctor ended in the curtain being shifted aside. Saul lifted himself off the bed, and slung the backpack over one shoulder before approaching the bed Faylin was lying on.

"What happened to you?" He inquired softly.

"I didn't duck." Fay stated with another wry grin. Pain killers were a wonderful thing....yet as she spoke, a small tear of reality crested in the corner of her left eye and fell. "I'm getting rusty. How are you?"

"Didn't duck either." He replied. "What did you have to duck from? And don't tell me you ran into a door because I'll make sure it'll actually happen."

"A door would actually feel better." She stated quietly. "Saul...I...." Fay paused for a long moment, looking deeply into his eyes, attempting to tell him with a look not to press her for information she did not want to give. "I need you to do something for me."

"Talk to me."

"I need you to find a way to take someone out, without physically touching them. And if someone can make someone's life hell without touching them, it's you." Her eyes narrowed and flashed with that all too familiar revenge anger.

'Ah', Saul thought, 'I should have seen that coming'. Fay-Fay got into trouble with a man, again. she was lucky until now - Jonas must have had a temper taken right out of the frozen glaciers of Bolarus II, and Saul did not allow himself to get hurt by her. The new guy, however, was not so forgiving.

"Who was it?"

"Baile....he did this to me." Her eyes drifted to the nurse as the curtain parted. What her eyes saw before her broke her heart, the titanium frame rested beside her bed, opposite of Saul's position.

"Faylin.....we need to take the final measurements."

Biting her lip, Fay pivoted her head and looked directly at Saul and said nothing.

It took the Dutchman a second to comprehend what he was seeing, but when he did, any thoughts about waving away yet another one of Faylin's attempt to pit the men in her life against each other was discarded.

"Let's wait until the emergency stabilized and then we'll see what we can do, OK?" He said in a hushed tone.

If Baile was lucky, he'll be dead by then.

~Recovery~

Major backpost, to Manslaughter

Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin - Chief of Astrophysics
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Main Sickbay ? Recovery Ward~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For a ship of the line with a state of the art security system, a highly trained security team and crack contingent of marines aboard, there had been a distressing amount of dead and wounded entering sickbay. Considering they weren?t in an active combat situation it should have been relatively quiet, instead though there?d been massive trauma, literal decapitation and one poor soul literally ripped to pieces.

Shuddering at the memory of that particular sight which had greeted her on the autopsy table, she found herself wondering about the state of mind of someone who could do that to another sentient being.

Peeling off the surgical cap from her most recent autopsy, not there had been much to say. Cause of death was pretty evident as the lack of a head was a pretty telling cause of death. Though she had to leave the file open until the missing cranium was located.

Thinking about her recent bouts of surgery, one marathon session aimed at saving the mangled arm of Lieutenant Bental who had also fallen foul of the lunatic aboard, his arm having been shattered in several places, nearly ripped off and then the shattered ends forced back in, and Lieutenant Kara?nin, who was still enjoying the hospitality of post op. Walking across the ward to her senior Nurse she looked over her shoulder.

?Boss,? Arrietty greeted Kimberly quietly, How?s??? she asked, nodding toward the surgical bay.

Shaking her head, ?Not much to say really, brute force trauma. Cause of death obvious. Forensics have all the samples so hopefully something might help. ? Looking around she raised an eyebrow, ?Lieutenant Bental??

?His patches and grafts were holding nicely and his condition was stable, he? s out in the main ward.? She said as she passed a PADD over, ?Doctor Slen transferred him a short time back.? Holding up another PADD for Kimberly, ? The latest obs from Lieutenant Kara?nin,? she offered.

Scanning the readings Kimberly hummed a few times as she read. The Lieutenants physiology had proven a little troublesome in the operating room, the extra limbs and digits had meant more muscles to contend with and repair. Add to that a handful of shattered bones, massive blood loss a literal chunk of his chest missing the surgery had not been an easy one. Plus his wings, which had meant a hastily replicated op table based on a pattern from his homeworld being installed in record time.

~ Must remember to thank Ops for that. ~ She reminded herself.

Thankful that biosynthetics had such an incredibly low rejection rate she noted the scans on the PADD with satisfaction. Repairing the missing tissue on his torso would under normal circumstances not be very difficult, but the added complication of his wings, and the fact that his muscles across his chest provided extra power for them had made the repair more time consuming and complicated. Though she was satisfied that all the necessary tendons and muscles were repaired, only time and careful therapy would return his flight capabilities any time soon.

Looking down at his arm where the deep gash had threatened to exsanguinate him she flushed slightly as she remembered the surgical session, in her haste to repair the severed artery and mend the deeply gashed tissue she had nearly planned the cross connection of several tendons and muscles that had been damaged, the thought of his opposed thumbs working the wrong way sent a red flush up her cheeks. Fortunately she had realised her error even as she finished the arterial repair, and the mental slip had gone completely unnoticed, but she had made a decision there and then to at least have the computer simulation on permanent standby when feasible from now on. Some physiologies were more confusing than others, and the musculature of the Fruna?lin was one of them.

?He should be coming around soon,? Kimberly warned Arrietty, ?assuming his ribs show no sign of osteonecrosis and the grafts are holding we?ll move him out into the main ward.?

?Yes Ma?am.?

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

Cutter awoke to spinning lights. Two identical lights touching each other, moving in a slow orbit, their surfaces skimming across the other like Siamese twins joined at the hip. He blinked and the orbit restarted, and he was confused, because time was not discontinuous in that way.

He blinked once more, his eyelids taking several moments to reopen fully. Again, the orbit restarted. But, then he realized the lights were not moving at all, he only felt they were.

His body was numb. His mind was slowed, sluggish.

The lights above him had started to merge, and he realized how blurry they were before. He hadn?t noticed it then, but they were so much clearer now. Or, it, rather.

There was only one light.

Where was he?

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

?Also, have another unit of Hemolog brought up, and get the lab working to synthesize us another batch of typed blood for the Lieutenant, his pressure is still a little lower than I?d like.?

?On it,? Arrietty replied, making a note on her PADD, ?anything else?? Nodding, ?Kelotane, 10cc?s every four hours to the graft on his chest for a day.?

?Daaruk? el aal?? the patient spoke softly from his bed. He attempted to lift his head, but seemed to fail, as his eyes rolled back and he immediately laid back down. He repeated, ?Daruk???

Tapping her comm badge Kimberly looked confused for a moment and then looked to Arrietty who appeared just as confused. ?Check the UT is connected and if a level four check says its okay call Ops.? She instructed her nurse as she moved up beside the astrophysicist.

?Daa ts?at?orelmuii??

?Lieutenant Kara?nin, can you hear me?? she asked gently as she stood beside him. Checking the restraining field was on she leaned toward him but not right over him, ?the restraining field is just so you don?t make any sudden moves when you wake up, just a simple precaution. Can you understand??

He sighed, and began to speak again, but stopped. Kimberly could see his tongue moving up to make another ?d? before he realized he had not yet mentally switched languages. ?What happened?? he finally asked.

?Something I was hoping you might be able to tell me,? she asked, relieved he had switched to Standard. Making a note to check up on his language and why the UT hadn?t picked up on it she spoke slowly, ?you were beamed in here some time back having been on the wrong end of a fight. I?ll give you a run down on how you are in a moment, but first, what?s the last thing you remember??

He thought, which appeared to be difficult, given his drug induced haze, like trudging through a marsh. ?We were attacked. Saul Bental, Tarik, and I. By, um, I don?t know who. I never got a good look. Male. Human. Or human enough. Hair, normal coloured,? he said, and shrugged. ?He killed Tarik in an instant and then... he, uh, dived at me and missed. I tried to call for help, but got up and he grabbed for my communicator and it cut my arm. ?I fell back, and then... well, then immediately that woman,? he said ?woman ? with quite a bit of disdain. He obviously knew her and had little respect for her. ?That woman was on me immediately, checking my pulse, when I was clearly alive and conscious, and then I watched her stumble around ineffectively until she remembered she could call for an emergency transport. I don?t know why she wasn?t attacked. After he attacked me, I saw him chase after Saul, but then she showed up and he was gone and Saul was on the ground.? Listening to his recollections of the events that had put him here she made a note to check for possible concussion, from what she had been told Nara Roswell had arrived and found them on the floor, with no sign of the assailant.

~ Shock, concussion, memory lapse? Check when he?s more awake. ~ She decided. Aloud though, ?well whoever your attacker was he managed to do some damage but nothing we haven?t been able to repair,? she assured him gently, ?you are going to have to rest for a while I?m afraid before you?re back on your feet. I imagine security will want a statement from you, but that can wait for a moment until you?re ready?

"That was my statement," he said flatly.

?Very well Lieutenant, however Security will wish to speak to you once you? re out of post ?op and your heads a little clearer.?

"Your anaesthesia may be slowing my thinking, but it is not clouding my memory."

?Perhaps Lieutenant, but I think from a procedural standpoint they?d prefer a statement made without any undue influences. I will pass on what you said as soon as we?re finished though.? Checking the bio-monitors above his head Kimberly sat on a stool beside him, ?you?re going to be with us for a little while but you should be up and around fairly soon. Other than your arm and chest how are you feeling?? She enquired gently.

He squinted at her, then rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, grumpily. Wondering whether he was telling the truth or just being stubborn like many of the crew Kimberly sighed softly, ?Okay then, well for now we?ll move you into the main ward shortly, but you?ll have to refrain from stretching your wings I?m afraid until your pectoral muscles have healed properly. We?ve a proper bed from your home replicated and waiting in the main ward, but if you get uncomfortable at any point speak to myself or a nurse and we?ll help, okay.?

He gave no response, merely grunted.

Checking his vitals one more time Kimberly stood and waved to a pair of orderlies, ?Is there anything you need?? she asked as they brought over a grav-stretcher.

"No," he grumbled, growing more grumpy as the anaesthesia wore off. Nodding she stepped back to allow the orderlies to move in, ?Well if there is anything let us know.?

"Assessing the strain"

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counselling Officer

*Miramon Terrik's Quarters, Deck 8, USS Galaxy - 2012hrs*

As was his typical custom, the Bajoran counsellor was simply sat on the sofa that adorned the space closest to the large transparent aluminium viewport that was all that separated the austere but comfortable room for the cold, silent vacuum of space. Since he had finished his paperwork earlier than he had anticipated, it had been a simple thing to slip away from his office in order to take a little time to relax. One sonic shower later and a hot cup of Juma tea, and all was well. So to speak, at any rate.

Things had been more and more difficult lately, moreso beyond the bulkheads of the Galaxy than within it, but such did little to ease the internal pressures that were being placed upon the crew as a whole. As far as he was concerned, they were all very much in need of some time to simply relax. But no, that was never something that was afforded them. And thus, there was a crew of many hundreds all feeling tired and perhaps demoralised from the recent actions in which the Galaxy had engaged. If not in combat, there was political intrigue to deal with, not to mention the constant threat of conflict escalation that would only serve to further endanger the lives of the crew.

Despite even his normally relaxed and passive state of mind, Miramon could well feel the fatigue setting in - whenever the rest of the crew started feeling the tension, the counsellors were always there to try and set their minds at ease, but often enough, it was impossible to escape the truth of their collective circumstances when you had a good few others reminding you of such at each and every counselling session you conducted. Difficult, then, to find some measure of peace amidst the chaos, even though they had something of an interim point at the moment.

As a Bajoran, there were several things that he found particularly bittersweet. Since the T'Kith'Kin had occupied Cardassia, he supposed that was something that his people ought to celebrate - their oppressors had finally met their just desserts at the hands of someone stronger than themselves. Okay, things hadn't precisely been good for the Cardassians since the Dominion Wars, but even so, this was different. Still, Miramon liked to think that he had a more enlightened perspective on matters. After all, a large number of Cardassians had done little to participate in the occupation of Bajor, and the consequential suffering of its people. And that enemies of the Federation had captured Cardassia made matter worse - it was, after all, not out of the realm of possibility that his homeworld might be in danger now.

In the dispassionate sense, though, he knew full well that it would be pointless concerning himself with potential threat until it progressed into reality, and the consequences then had to be dealt with. Miramon was too much of a pragmatist for that, but there was always that nagging thought at the back of his mind that served as a gentle distraction. At moments like this, when he had no pressing concerns to attend to, it moved right to the forefront of his mind, and was difficult to shake off.

His normally focused expression looked a little glazed as he stared off into space with little attention being paid to the circumstances in hand, beyond the gentle motion of his hand as he stroked the feline that was sat contentedly on his lap, clearly enjoying the attention that was being paid to it, despite lacking the mental attentiveness that normally accompanied such gestures. Despite being ironically allergic to his pet cat, Miramon often found Ziggy's presence to be quite relaxing - which was occasionally useful in counselling sessions, presuming that the aforementioned cat was amenable to the attentions of someone not familiar to her.

Otherwise, the distraught individual really only got worked up further at the rather deep scratches on their ankles or hands. But Miramon had to make his contribution to productive medical practice aboard the ship somehow, right?

It was perhaps a little odd that Miramon ought to focus his attention on past events when their ship was torn between assisting the efforts to relieve the siege at Corvallis, and the odd goings-on at Deep Space 5, which had, to his knowledge, but recently been obliterated. Sometimes he had to wonder, considering it, where Starfleet's priorities were - conducting a potentially fruitless search-and-rescue turned salvage operation, or giving the Breen a whipping they richly deserved and liberating a planet that desperately needed it. If it was his choice, they'd have gone to Corvallis straight off. After all, no world deserved the same fate as Cardassia Prime had received, whatever Miramon's private thoughts regarding his people's old adversaries.

He offered a gently wry smile to the empty room in general, partially amused by the folly of it all. He wasn't one to feel anger or frustration amidst such circumstances - he simply preferred to give way to personal amusement that mingled despair at the hope of ever finding a soul filled with common sense in the near vicinity with the simple understanding that sometimes you just had to wait out the storm and see what got washed away by it, and what became exposed as a consequence. Inevitably, that all depended on who came out of the conflict on top of things.

Standing up from his position on the sofa, gently knocking his ginger cat to the floor as he did so, the Bajoran proceeded to spend the next few moments brushing away remnants of fur from his uniform with his hand, then headed out of his quarters. The morbidity of his thoughts wasn't going to help him sleep when the time came, and certainly he wanted to see some improvements to his mood if he was to walk into work in the morning without getting rapidly exasperated with his patients.

A little physical exercise, then, was clearly in order. Then maybe he would be in a good state of mind to interact with the rest of the crew. At the very least, he could always go and bug Saul. Few things were better in remedial terms than the opportunity to exasperate someone who oft spent his every waking moment doing just that to everyone else.

"Patching Up (on DS5)"

PO2 Maxwell (PC) (Eric)
Lt, jg. Huele, RN (NPC) (Bolian)
Ens. Peter Pepper (NPC, Cliff)

==Field Hospital/Medical and Civilian Intake, Section Q, Lower Decks, DS5==

Eight more dead, several who cannot be moved, and many who would be useless in a firefight if one broke out. Max was trying to think about the situation medically, but couldn't help thinking about the tactical issue, as well. He used the medical tricorder that came with one of the first aid kits on a young Crewman who was presenting with yet another toxic poisoning from the Hydran weapons fire.

"Feeling nauseous." Max asked as he took note of the electrolyte imbalance and the pharmacological interventions he used. The drugs only slowed the progression of the toxins released by the necrosis and breakdown of skin, fat and muscle.

"That...and worse, doc..." the Crewman croaked out. Max figured the kid couldn't have been over 19 years old, and still new to the 'Fleet. He felt pity for the young man, but everyone knew coming in that the worst case scenario could happen at anytime. And this situation certainly rated as worst case.

"I'm feeling nauseous myself," Pepper piped up leaning against a bio bed. Ensign Peter Pepper had been aboard DS 5 for nearly a year, since he'd graduated from Starfleet Medical. How he came to be in the medical field was beyond him as every time he saw blood he just about passed out. That little tidbit was probably how he managed to get assigned to the lowest level aid station on DS5.

Max turned and ran the tricorder over the pre-puke stage Ensign. "Well besides a little stress induced GI upset, I don't see anything that requires an immediate intervention. You want some Phenergan or Scopalamine? Maybe a mild sedative for your nerves?" Max asked a bit too sarcastically. He couldn't stand rookie docs that were ready to lose it on their first MCI.

"Don't worry about me," Pepper replied weakly, "I'll get it together."

"Right," Max said dismissively. "Well, give me a hand with a few of these patients. What's your name again?"

"Peter Pepper," Peter replied. He usually dreaded telling people his whole name. It normally got them going on rants about picking peppers and how many could be picked in any given time. Fortunately, at the moment, everyone present was too busy concentrating on work to make jokes.

"Right, right," Max said absentmindedly, thinking hard. "Your new name is 'Chuck', as in up-chuck."

Peter frowned. Now the joke would be 'How much wood could Up-Chuck chuck if Up-Chuck could chuck wood.' The ensign sighed.

"It's an EMS tradition. Every new guy gets a nickname based on the first impression they gave to their peers."

"Yeah... I know," Peter answered rolling his eyes in dismay. 'Why me,' he mouthed silently. "Are you serious though?"

"I really don't care. That's your new name," Max advised sternly, his sudden demeanor and posture clearly indicating that he would not entertain any further argument.

Peter sighed silently again.

"Now, let's finish with the black tags and get on with the reds and yellows. I want these people treated and packaged, ready to go when the Calvary gets here." Whenever they actually get here, the cynical part of Max cajoled.

"As you wish maaaster," Peter replied in his best Igor imitation. For someone who had no tolerance for looking at real blood, he sure knew his horror movies.

"Another Crazy Angosian?" Pt 1 of 2

Faylin McAlister, Jag Officer
Cianan Tierney, Combat Medic

[Galaxy Counseling Office]

Entering the counseling office meant one thing. She was in a cranky mood. It was required of her due to her previous career field. Sitting down and taking in the aroma of mental illness as it floated through the air, Faylin found herself muttering. "Geesh....kill people and they mark you for life..."

Glancing over, she sighed and picked up a data PADD containing the ezine Good Shipkeeping. It was a spinoff of Good Housekeeping with so called 'useful' articles on how to make Starfleet regulated quarters appear bigger with the use of alien artifacts. Arching her eyebrow, she sighed louder this time and crossed her legs.

**

[Galaxy Private Quarters]

Cian?n stood in front of the mirror and briefly didn?t recognize the eyes to be his own. He took a long inhale, closed his eyes and then reopened them. The gray familiar sheen stared back. The combat medic ran his hands over his bare chest and over his shaved head. The eyes should have been a distant memory, but alas none of his memories were distant.

Cian?n was 18 the last time he saw the hazel eyes. The last shine stared back at him towards the middle of the Tarsian War. The Angosians were pacifists by nature, but as violence spread throughout their planet the government resorted to genetic, chemical, and psychological engineering to create a master race of soldiers designed to bring peace back to the planet. Cian?n was one of those soldiers. The hazel eyes were one of many that haunted him from the past. They belonged to his 74th casualty.

Years later the Federation accepted Angosia III into their fold, but only with the stipulation that the soldiers who had been condemned as criminals to one of Angosia III?s five moons, were reintegrated into society. With constant biological and psychological conditioning most could enter back into society. Cian?n was one such case. While the dreams still haunted him, he was able to lead a somewhat normal existence. It may have helped that his particular conditioning related to medicine and as such was spared the brutal bloodthirsty reprogramming that many endured.

Federation and Angosian psychologists and psychiatrists could not promise the visions would go away, but they did provide Cian?n with powerful tools to combat the episodes. The tools included a barrage of therapy, meditation, medication and reprogramming. The soldier urges were suppressed, but the memories could not be erased.

Looking over his shoulder he saw the fine details of the PADD that rested on his bunk. They contained the classified notes from past counselors. He was ordered to deliver them for continued ?reprogramming.? He shook his head and sighed.

Cian?n pulled on a gray t-shirt and turned from the mirror. He grabbed the PADD and headed to the Counseling Office. Cian?n earlier analyzed the vessel and its contingent. There were enough psychologists, therapists and psychiatrists to go around.

[Galaxy Counseling Office]

Walking into the main Counseling Offices, it was a pretty typical and sterile environment. The room was easy on the eyes and ears, but his olfactory senses were still tickled. He walked over to a reception area and quietly spoke with a young woman doing intake. She smiled politely and asked him to take a seat.

Cian?n turned back and noticed the place was fairly empty. He sat down and nodded to an attractive blond.

Arching a single eyebrow in response at his gesture, she turned half her attention back to the magazine in her hand. It was a blond day, she had felt it. Blonds had more fun supposedly, however, in Fay's case, she had fun no matter what color her hair was. Glancing sideways quickly, she noticed he was still looking at her. Winking in a swift manner, Fay went back to looking at her data.

Cian?n looked around the room and the voice of his last psychotherapist echoed in his mind, ?reach out to others Cian?n to find a way to fit in, don?t close yourself to the world.? He cleared his throat slightly.

?Cian?n Tierney,? he introduced himself to the stranger.

"Faylin McAlister. Pleasure to meet you. Tell me Cian?n, do you believe in lust at first site?"

One of the drawbacks to his reprogramming was his seemingly lack of sexual response. He was taught to ignore instinctual reactions. Not that he had not experienced sex, he tried it twice to see what it was like ? once with a woman and once with a man. There were major differences and to him there was little feeling involved. The soldier shrugged, ?why you horny??

"Not particularly. I just thought I'd grab your attention. Men that look rather bored perk up when I ask them that. You looked a little bored, so I asked.

What do you do here?" Holding his gaze, she placed the PADD down on the small end table beside her.

Cian?n?s right lip curled a rare smile, it was brief yet nonetheless a smile. ?Here as in this Counseling Office? I try to keep the voices in my mind quiet so I don?t kill anyone.? He was partially joking, though his psychotherapists might comment on the literal meaning of his words. ?Here as in the ship, I?m a medic.?

She leaned over slightly, offering him a slight subtle smirk. "I find that if you do what the voices tell you, they leave you alone for a while. At least, they do in my case." Leaning back, she bit her bottom lip, studying him for a moment. "I'm the resident evil.....The JAG officer...."

Cian?n hated courts ? they sentenced him to serve the rest of his life rotting in the prison orbiting Angosia III. Memories flooded him and he took a second to push them away. During the Tarsian War the law occurred at the moment of the crime. It was swift, vengeful and non-negotiable. ?Someone?s gotta hold the big stick.? He said.

"And I....my dear medic....have held quite a few big sticks." She stated haphazardly. Hearing her name, Fay's head whipped upwards before turning sharply to the medic. "Up for dinner sometime?"

Cian?n nodded, it wasn?t instinctive it was purposeful. This Faylin McAlister seemed alright. ?You cook??

"I cook all sorts of things. I've even been known to capture my own prey for dinner. Although....there is one beast that I have not had the pleasure of wetting my palette with.....yet." She left it at that, inwardly wondering how she could hide the gaudy evidence. For no one other than this particular beast would wear purple glitter and skeleton earrings. Not to hear that snap of gum would be wonderful.....the problem was that once she was gone, everyone would deem Fay a suspect just due to her back ground. "Being an ex assassin sucks....." She muttered.

"Another Crazy Angosian?" Pt 2 of 2

Brian Elessidil, Chief Counselor
Cianan Tierney, Combat Medic

[Galaxy Counseling Office]

Cian?n shook his head slightly not exactly sure what to make of Faylin. She wasn?t particularly heinous and seemed to be someone to which he could relate, particularly her last comment about being in a position that wasn?t always liked.

Sitting empty in the waiting area Cian?n closed his eyes and breathed carefully. For the most part the Angosian was in control over his thoughts. He was ordered to control them and as a soldier obeyed. He was told by the last psychologist who seemed to understand him more than others that he needed to suppress his obsessions not because of an order, but because he believed it was for the better.

Cian?n didn?t quite see the difference. The soldier was fairly black and white when it came to most aspects of his life.

The Angosian continued to breathe and put the psychic walls up that were constructed through training while on Vulcan. It helped himself listen to more than his instinct of self-preservation. It helped him to get past just following orders for the sake of following orders.

Calmed, Cian?n opened his eyes. It was back to the sterile environment. He had been in many counseling centers, laboratories, clinics, hospitals, wards?prisons. They were all alike in many ways, full of people with maladies, something that needed to be fixed. Cian?n was told by a physician that he needed to be fixed and was ordered to continuous medical and psychological treatment. The Angosian wasn?t as convinced, but went along with it.

Cian?n did his homework, it was in his nature to anticipate surprises. He read about the Chief Counselor. He was a Betazoid. Cian?n had only encountered one Betazoid who was not a Counselor, but a fellow marine. He had low empathic abilities and still Cian?n managed to give him an occasional headache. It?s not that Cian?n tried ? he couldn?t control his thoughts as well until after the training he received on Vulcan.

Vulcan was a completely mysterious place to Cian?n. Here was a soldier that had been programmed to listen only to instinct put on a planet of people programmed to listen only to calculated logic. At first the Angosian was just happy the Vulcans didn?t want to talk about how he was feeling, his obsessions, his inner most thoughts. With time Cian?n learned how to transmit his true emotion through touch telepathy and meditation. He could send a single emotion to an empath with deep concentration. Cian?n couldn?t decode many of the emotions he experienced, for many it was the first time or brought back a hidden memory from his youth that was nearly obliterated with conditioning.

It was first the sound, then the smell and finally the sight that gave away the presence of the Counselor. Cian?n?s enhanced abilities calculated the pressure of the footpath, the sound of the gait to determine the height and weight of the man. Next the smell rounded the corner. It wasn?t a displeasing odor. It was a mix of the Starfleet uniform and the Counselor?s personal scent. The sounds and smells would be etched into Cian?n?s photographic memory.

Finally the Counselor turned the corner and Cian?n stood.

?Sir, Cian?n Tierney reporting for evaluation, sir.? The marine stood taught.

Brian, in his usual friendly greeting, extended a hand. "Welcome to the Galaxy, Corporal Tierney. Heh - and relax. I think we can get by without the formalities for now. Please, come in and have a seat." As he turned to lead the other man into his office, Brian could tell Tierney was not the usual officer, though he already knew that from reviewing the Angosian's bio. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

?No thank you, sir.? Cian?n said pausing for a moment and then sitting down. His back remained rigid.

"Okay then," the counselor began, taking a seat across from Tierney's, "let's get down to business. I understand you've been through a lot of psychological examinations in your career, so I'm sure you know how things work. You talk about how you feel, I reflect back my analysis, we talk through it, et cetera, et cetera. There's a lot of information in your file, so I don't want to bore you with simply rehashing all that. What I'd like to do is start with how you're adjusting to your new assignment and what challenges or concerns that presents for you. Fair enough?" As he finished his sentence, Brian could already feel the first indications of the unsettling effect Cian?n had on telepaths, one not unlike what the counselor felt around Victor Kreighoff. After reading the reports in Tierney's file Brian had prepared himself for it, though he bolstered his mental shields a little more just in case.

Cian?n nodded once. The Angosian typically registered first impressions and the ?get right to it? attitude of the Counselor was refreshing. Cian?n at first didn?t really appreciate counseling sessions. He was stoic and held back. After several years of building trust, he learned that talking about experiences with a confidant was cathartic and helped him see a broader more diverse picture of himself.

?I haven?t had must time to adjust, but?? His right lip curled into a smile, ?I haven?t killed anyone, that?s got to be worth something.? He was joking, morbidly joking, but it helped.

"The captain does tend to prefer it that way," Brian smirked back.

?I experienced a short flashback. I was looking in a mirror and someone else was staring back at me.? Cian?n said quietly. He could have sworn he felt better just verbalizing the experience.

"Today?"

Cian?n nodded silently. It had happened on minutes before meeting the Counselor.

"What can you tell me about the person who was staring back at you? Was it anyone you knew?"

?I know all the eyes that stare back at me.? The Angosian said flatly. ?They were hazel eyes ? an unusual color for an Angosian.? Cian?n added matter-of-factly.

"So this person was another Angosian? Can you focus back some and tell me a little more?"

The soldier closed his eyes. Cian?n wasn?t afraid of closing his eyes, his sensitive hearing and olfactory senses easily compensated. ?The last time I saw the eyes I was 18 and they were lifeless staring back at me.? He opened his eyes and stared directly into the Counselor?s an almost fury of emotions portrayed through his pupils.

Brian could see and sense that there was more behind those eyes than what he usually saw in the people he met with. There was an emotional depth that registered empathically more than he would have otherwise expected, adding to the unsettling feeling Cian?n projected. "You know these eyes," he said carefully. "What did you see in them?"

Cian?n swallowed. ?I don?t know his name. I don?t know what he did or if he had a family.? The soldier looked as though he was reminiscing. ?I killed him.?

"Go on."

?He was the 74th death at my hands.? Cian?n again spoke in fact. ?I killed 132 people in the name of peace.?

"That's a very tragic thing to have to do even once," Brian gently commented. "Unfortunately, being a soldier requires it far too often. Was it just as difficult for you for all the others, or is there something particular about this one?"

?I don?t think so, another nameless face returning from the past.? Cian?n said, leaning back in the chair. ?You don?t look like him, no one I?ve met looks like him.? Cian?n added. ?I?ve learned to control the flashbacks, to suppress them. Occasionally one will appear.?

"How often would you say that is? And are they always the same?"

Cian?n answered almost immediately. ?I haven?t had a flashback since arriving on Vulcan. On Earth they were not common, perhaps once a month. While incarcerated I experienced them almost daily.? He continued, ?They repeat themselves. This face however has never appeared as a flashback before.?

"Have all the others appeared more than once?"

?There are several faces that have not appeared as flashbacks.? The faces rushed through Cian?n?s mind. ?I?m not sure if there is a rhyme or reason to when they return. Ghosts of the past is what one shrink, err counselor named them.?

Brian smirked slightly at the slip. He'd certainly heard himself and others in his profession called worse. "During the flashbacks, what kinds of emotions or thoughts are conjured up for you? Are your reactions usually the same or do they vary?"

Cian?n looked intently at Brian. ?Can?t you feel it?? He knew the answer. Cian?n was a difficult read for telepaths.

"Beyond what's out there on the surface, I try to avoid actively looking into people's thoughts unless there seems to be reason to do otherwise," the counselor replied. He focused a little more on the other man, picking up random bits of thoughts and emotions, but they were scattered and faint. "You've obviously worked at suppressing your thoughts for years. I'm a pretty strong telepath, so they must be locked down pretty good. What I can get at is rather...chaotic?"

?I can show you. I learned how to clear my thoughts on Vulcan.? Cian?n abruptly stood up and then knelt in front of the Counselor, grabbing his hands and placing them on the sides of Cian?n?s face. The soldier looked up and set his eyes on Brian?s eyes.

Brian focused once again, though he had enough experience to know to keep up his own telepathic shields to some extent when dealing with people with strong mental suppression.

Cian?n envisioned his mind, the chaos of thoughts and emotions that were constantly subdued through training. He found the spark and grew it. The face was clear to him now, the stinging eyes gazing back at him.

Seeing it too now, Brian began to study it, to try to get a clearer picture and perhaps some of the thoughts and emotions that surrounded it. It all began to grow slowly, to take on more substance as the counselor winced slightly at the strength of the emotions.

Then the emotion hit like a physical presence. Cian?n didn?t know the word for it, the deep remorse for the death. Cian?n?s breathing became labored and shallow while his heart rate increased. Peeling his eyes away from the Counselor?s Cian?n closed them and let go of the Betazoid?s hands. The face disappeared, the emotion was gone. Cian?n just knelt. Slowly he opened his eyes. ?You?ve seen something no one else has."

He paused and the continued, "It?s like that every time.?

Before he even realized it, tears threatened to stream down Brian's face. He took a moment to shake off the lingering effect of the experience, understanding now a little more about what the other man was dealing with.

"I uh, I can't say I'm surprised that you'd have flashbacks from time to time, given the strength of what you're suppressing on a constant basis. Powerful emotions like that always seek an outlet. I guess the question I have for you now is how much of burden they are for you. If you want to minimize them, you may need to find another way to let off some of the emotional pressure." Brian looked at him carefully, ?Even someone with mental suppression abilities as strong as yours can't totally block out everything all the time."

Cian?n stood back up and returned to the chair. ?I don?t feel anything now.? He slowly moved his head from side to side as though stretching his neck muscles. ?Mental suppression techniques were taught to all Angosian soldiers by a slew of specialists on Angosia and Earth. I honed them further with the help of the Vulcans ? a most apathetic species.? Cian?n appreciated his time with the logical Vulcans who mirrored a method for controlling obsessions and compulsions. ?I will continue with their training, but would appreciate anything that Betazoid training has to offer.?

"I'd be happy to share some Betazoid techniques with you, but I'd also like to work with you to help you develop some kind of outlet beyond constant suppression. We can keep reinforcing your control, but even the strongest dams have to have a safety valve in case the pressure gets to be too great. Consider another tool at your disposal. Does that seem reasonable to you?"

Cian?n paused for a moment to think, not something he did regularly. ?What other outlets do you mean??

"Do you work out? Do you write, or paint, or dance? I mean other avenues for expression, other ways to uncork some of the emotional energy now and then and put it to good use."

Cian?n was aware of other methods that were attempted on soldiers that were less scrupulous in nature. He was a trained physician and often had to clean up some of the unsuccessful attempts beyond psychopharmacology to neuro-biology ? not just altering the chemistry of the brain, but the physical attributes as well.

?Oh, sure,? Cian?n paused. ?I run. I?ve never painted or danced.? It was odd to hear it out loud. They seemed to be simple tasks that he had never performed.

Brian nodded. "I figured physical activity was a safe guess. As for the others, maybe this would be a good time to try. The point isn't to turn your into an artist or a poet, but to engage in something that might help you focus some attention on other emotions and thoughts."

?If you think that would work, I would try it.? Cian?n said resolved. ?When do we start??

"Avalanche"

(Takes place after "Message In A Bottle")

Principle Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Admiral R.E.L. Price

****

USS Galaxy
Captain's Ready Room
Deck 1

There were Captains that spent their entire time on shift sitting on the Bridge, watching the Bridge crew go about their duties and engaging in conversation with them as they did so. Admiral Kirk, from all reports, had been one of those Captains; he was either on the Bridge, beaming down onto some planet somewhere, or in his quarters with the latest in the seemingly endless line of female companions of all shapes, sizes, and species that legend and history attached him to. After his era, the practice had died out to a degree once the practice of placing a Ready Room for the Captain just off the Bridge started, but it hadn't vanished completely; there wee plenty of officers that carried on the tradition, even today.

Daren had never been one of those officers. He'd always felt that his Bridge Crew didn't need him sitting there, getting in the way of their daily operations - if they were good enough to be posted to the Bridge, then they were good enough that he didn't have to baby-sit them. He'd also, privately, never been comfortable with the level of personal interaction and familiarity that he would have been required to maintain if he'd done so. He could be open with his friends, with the ones he loved, but his crew... no. He wasn't here to be a father to them, just a leader.

There were, though, times when he wondered what it would be like to have that level of familiarity. To be able to fill the empty moments when he could no longer look at contingency plans for assisting Corvallis that were guaranteed to fail due to the length of time required to get there, or threat assessments on Triad forces that were, if viewed honestly, only so much vapor and smoke. Those were the kind of moments that he would have, in the past, called June and talked to her quietly. Things always seemed clearer when he did that. That wasn't possible now, though. She was an unimaginable distance away, back in the Sol System, and he couldn't say the things he needed to say to her over that kind of open space.

=/\= "Captain, we're picking up a signal - it's faint, but I think it's from Deep Space 5." =/\=

His musing stopped and Daren leaned forward, all business. =/\= "Let me hear it, Ensign." =/\=

The faint message, played once, twice, then a third time before he had it cancelled. =/\= "Forward it on with a 'Highest Priority' flag to and then open a channel to Starfleet Command. Get me Admiral Prince in Operations." =/\=

He might not be able to talk to June, but he didn't need to in order to know what the right thing to do here was.

****

"I'm sorry mate," Prince interrupted sadly. "I know what you're feeling right now, I know how much you want to go and save her, but the answer is 'no.'"

Daren stopped in mid-argument and stared. Ten minutes of logical arguments and rationale into his attempt to persuade Price to let him divert to DS5 and the first words the former CO of the Galaxy had to say were so outr? that they totally derailed him. "What?" he finally got out. "You know how much I want to go and do... what?"

"Save her, Daren," Price said as if that explained everything. "I know, we all know, but I can't agree to it. It's horrible, it's cruel, and it's eating at us here too - but you can't go off on some quixotic charge to save her. Not now. Not when she's already gone."

There was, Daren was certain, something simple that would make all of the words coming out of the Admiral's mouth make sense. A single word or phrase that would suddenly clarify everything, make it all clear as the summer sky over the plains outside his childhood home in Tanzania... but he was damned if he knew what it was. "Robert," he said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Price leaned closer to the image pickup, frowning, as if about to snap at Daren - but stopped as he studied Daren's face for a moment; then It was Price's turn to look blank. "You really didn't know, mate?"

"Know what?" Daren felt a tiny frisson of dread in the back of his mind. "What are you talking about, 'do I know'?" He frowned. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking, Robert."

The admiral blinked once, and then leaned back in his powered chair. "Oh God, mate, I thought you... we all thought that you..." He closed his eyes and took a breath, opening his eyes as he let it our, revealing a deep well of sadness in them. "I'm sorry, Daren. I didn't tell you, because we all thought that you already knew that June was on DS5."

Thee were other words that followed those, but Daren didn't hear them. He didn't hear anything except the sound of his own heartbeat starting to race and the rasp of his breathing. June was on DS5. June was on DS5. June was on DS5. The Hydrans had captured or destroyed DS5. The Hydrans had captured or destroyed June. June was....

Daren forced himself to stop there. June may have been on DS5, but there was no evidence that she'd been captured or killed. And even if she had, that wouldn't, couldn't, change what he had to do. He could grieve or rejoice later, when his time and his life were his own again. Now, here, they weren't his, they belonged to the Federation... and he would, as he'd always done, do his duty to the oath he'd sworn a lifetime ago.

"Thank you for telling me," he said carefully, monitoring the words as they left his lips for signs of weakness. "I didn't know. For obvious reasons, we haven't exchanged much mail since my communications were routed through DS5." He clenched one hand into a fist, well below the pickup, and continued, "But I'd still be making the same arguments even if I had known, Robert. We need to know what's happened there. We need to know if there are really still survivors.... And if there are, we have to try and save them, so we don't wind up with a repeat of the Hydran execution squads on Romulus. They're our people, Robert; our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters... and our husbands and wives... and they deserve nothing less from us."

Price stared at him for a moment, silent. "I knew it was a mistake to let you start talking, Daren," he sighed. "Once you get warmed up it's like watching an avalanche coming for you... inescapable. All right, you can try. But you are ordered to withdraw - even at the expense of losing the hostages - before allowing your ship to be captured, disabled, or destroyed. Is that understood?"

There was only one answer to that, so Daren gave it: "Yes, sir."

"There's only one other ship in range to possibly give you a hand," Price continued, "the USS Zeus, a Prometheus class vessel. She's on a classified mission, so she won't show up on any positional listings that the Hydrans may be able to access form the station archives. I'll have her Captain get in touch with you on a secured channel ASAP."

"Thank you." Daren didn't have to exaggerate - any help would be a gift from Allah in this case.

The admiral paused, abruptly looking older than his years. "I hope you can save them - and her - Daren."

"There was only one answer for that too. "Me too, Robert... me too."

"Price out."

Daren stared at the screen for a moment, and then reached for the comm. =/\= "Helm, lay in a course change for Deep Space 5; continue in maximum emergency warp and maintain Red Alert. All Senior Staff to my Briefing Room immediately - we have a new assignment." =/\=

"Strategic Society" - Part 1

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer

Lieutenant J.G. Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

Lieutenant J.G. Valentina 'Eve' Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer, Technical Operations

Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan DarkSky (NPC, Eric)
Intelligence Officer, Visual and Field Analysis

And the entire Intelligence department NPC staff

"... and that, gentlemen, is all that we know at the moment." The illumination increased, but no extra light was shed on the situation at Deep Space 5. Starfleet Intelligence's long range sensor arrays indicated that the station was still intact, but that was it. There were no distress calls or other transmissions, not even through the secured diplomatic and intelligence channels. This was especially bad for SFI, since the station was a central relay for several covert automated listening posts hidden throughout the Hydran border, as well as a channel for Humint sources to deliver encrypted information to their handlers.

A dark veil fell upon, and toward this unknown the Galaxy was sprinting at maximal cruise speed.

"We're still missing most of the puzzle pieces, but we need to assemble at least a partial picture. Since we're close to the Hydran lines, I expect we'll become a primary means for data collection. I also expect that the Hydrans will do their base to eavesdrop on our transmissions, so we probably won't get many intelligence batches from HQ. Therefore it's up to us to analyze whatever little information we have because no one is going to do it for us."

C'hitah raised her arm. Saul nodded at the middle aged Caitian; The two oldest members of his department, C'hitah and Seren, were both NCOs, and both two of his greatest supporters.

"Saul, there was no early warning from DS5, right? Unlike Cardassia, for instance."

"That's right. The Cardassians did alert the Federation when the fleet approached."

"Maybe the crew finally mutinied..." Raynor suggested jokingly. "Do we have the last transmissions that did come out of DS5 before the attack? You know the off-site backup records and such? Is there anything there that might give us a clue?"

"We don't have all of it at the moment." Spoke Lali Indrakshi. It was one of the first department meetings she participated in as a commissioned officer rather than a cadet. "But I went through the latest records we do have and there's no hint whatsoever. Not even code words."

"It's like somebody turned off the power.", said Kwntz, the Tellarite systems operator.

"Or blocked the transmissions, but our sensors would have picked any attempts to do so, at least if they used technologies we're familiar with.", added Saul. The idea of the Hydrans possessing an undetectable signal warfare device was not very cheering.

"If all they could do was block transmissions without detection, then they wouldn't have taken the station that intact..." Raynor observed. "There's more at work here... they either had help on the inside or have some new weapon... Or maybe a computer virus..."

"You expect the station's CO would activate the self destruction?" Saul inquired Zev, his tone indicating just how likely he thought that possibility was. "But you're right. The question here is not what happened, but what didn't happen, which is early warning and at least partial destruction of the station. Both can be accounted to sabotage or a virus. Any other speculations?"

"Trojan Horse, Biological Attack, Telepathic Brain Orgy..." Raynor began to list all the possibilities he could think of. "Critical weak spot in the Deep Space Five design that was hit in the opening salvo causing it to be impossible for them to fight back... That's just what I can think of off the top of my head right now... you know the thinking without thinking kind of thinking that I do... too often..."

That won him glares from the entire department, as if they were saying 'We know'.

"Sounds like you have enough on your hands Zev - I want you to check all these possibilities in-depth and see which ones are the most likely and what precautions and countermeasures the Galaxy should derive from each possibility. Feel free to pick someone from the crew to work on it with you."

"Any Volunteers?" Raynor asked the crew.

The room when dead silent as in the distance Raynor could hear a Wolf howl to a full moon... "I'll pick someone later..." Raynor said quietly.

Saul returned to face the team. "So the Triad struck at Cardassia, Corvallis and DS5. What is their next step?"

"That depends on their objective." Lysandra Stuart spoke up. Saul half expected the NCO to get a mysterious transfer order after Captain Henderson left the ship, but she remained in place for now.

"Isn't it obvious?" Lali grumbled, "The Federation is weak after fighting the Dominion. Saul would say that they're simply 'exploiting a business opportunity', no?"

"It's not that simple," Said Saul.

"How long am I going to hear that excuse?" Raynor asked somewhat annoyed. "The Dominion war was years ago... we're about half way recovered in terms of both equipment and personnel... the Federation may not be as strong as it would like to be... but its not exactly a sitting duck ripe for attack."

Raynor let that hang out there for a bit... he wanted to make sure they understood that its not like they had been sitting on their ass twiddling their thumbs for the past nine years.

"But as for reasoning behind their targets..." Raynor went on. "Cardassia and Corvallis are easy... They want to control the passage to Atlantis and once they do... they'll try to take Atlantis itself... Making sure there is will be alot of space between us and that base... I mean who wouldn't want all those cool toys?"

"The t'Kith'Kin." Lieutenant DarkSky spoke up. For the first time in recorded history the Shadow had broken his Intell Briefing silences without being asked a direct question. "The bugs eschew artificial technology, viewing races that use them as inferior. Why they put up with the Breen and Hydrans I don't know and I won't speculate on here. I do know they wouldn't want Atlantis, and they also don't want us unlocking secrets that could turn us into a considerable threat."

"If we were only dealing with the t'Kith'Kin that would be likely but were not... were dealing with all three and if either the Breen or the Hydrans want Atlantis captured... that might be enough for the t'Kith'Kin to stay their hand... but either way... the main point is their on their way to cutting off Atlantis..."

DarkSky declined to point out the fact that the Breen or Hydrans capturing Atlantis would remove it from Federation hands, thus completely validating his statements.

"Deep Space Five... right now I'm going with because its there... and they wanted a third front to distract us from the Atlantis situation..." Raynor suggested. "Unless anyone can think of a better reason than that..."

"There is one slight upside I'd like to point out to all this..." He said grinning. "Their cutting off the Ferengi... and in all likelihood their going to restrict travel of the merchant nation. Restricting the profits of the Merchant Nation. We might be able to get them to throw their weight in with us if we can convince them of that."

"Which Rule of Acquisition is it? ' War is good for business.' " Valentina piped up from her little window in one of the viewscreens. Her favorite was ' Never be afraid to declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies.' Or it went something like that anyways.

"Raynor is actually on to something, Valentina." Saul said. "I actually thought about it myself, reviewing the map. Once the Triad severe the Ferengi's direct trade routes to the majority of the Alpha and Beta quadrants, the Ferengi will be on their knees. They'll surely try to negotiate with the Triad. And you know something? If I were them, I'd do it before the Triad's conquests were complete, because at that point they'd have a higher bargaining position."

And that, Saul mused, would be another strike to the same prioritizing policy which led to the current conflict by putting relations with the Hydrans in the shadow for decades. Starfleet sent enormous forces to keep the Romulan empire free. Would they dedicate the same effort to keep the Ferengi on their side?

He'll definitely have to sell his Ferengi market stocks.

"Back to the objectives." Saul sharply closed the Ferengi subject. "So we have one thesis which is the Triad making a quick land-grab for Atlantis, Cardassia and the other border sectors, trusting that the Federation's retaliation would be weak to non-existent. In that case we'll expect them to fortify in their positions and declare the territories they just conquered are annexed. But I think the approximated size of the invasion force based on Cardassian reports is too big for a limited conflict. In my opinion they want to bring a major Galactic force down. So either they're going for us, because we were the unifying force behind repelling the Dominion and the Borg, and without us divide and conquer will be made easy; Or, they're paving a corridor to the Klingon empire."

"We haven't covered the other possible target... They've taken Cardassia and pretty much that means they've taken almost all of the Cardassian territory. The puts them within spitting distance of the Deep Space Nine... and the Wormhole. That might allow them to open talks with the Dominion as well as grant them access to a number of resources that we won't have. The Breen have even been Allies with the Dominion in the past... this could be the steps to making the Triad into Quadriad... just for fun and extra points..."

"This is all well and true," DarkSky interjected. "However, I have information that's not been widly distributed, for good reason." At Bental's permission he continued. "According to Federation politicians, the Dominion is a 'non-issue.' Odo and Laas are running things, and the remaining founders are scattered in groups across the gamma Quadrant. The Dominion is holding together and the pair is moving it towards more... benign... standings. If the Triad were to approach them, they'd be sent packing. Or they just wouldn't return through the wormhole alive. The T'Kith'Kin's taking of Cardassia would then have a second imperative. Prevent reinforcements from departing the Wormhole proper. On their home territory the Dominion is more powerfull than the Triad can hope to destroy, even if they had a dozen Starbeasts as we witnessed over ch'Rihan. They wouldn't want all of that firepower coming to our aid if they are friendly to our cause."

Raynor digested the information, thought for a moment.

"Doesn't make the Deep Space Nine not a target..." he said with a small pause as if to complete the thought in his own head for once. "With the Capture of Deep Space Five, they also have Barzan under their thumb, former the location of a very mobile Wormhole. If they want create a corridor to Klingon Space... what better way that something that allows you to bypass our defenses completely? This does give them a chance to study the phenomenon... and maybe replicate it."

"They wouldn't be the first to try." Saul commented. "I think Barzan would be a secondary objective if it's an objective at all. Controlled wormholes would provide a quantum leap in space travel, but some species had millennia to research in that direction and yet you don't see anyone using it. It's safe to say that the Triad won't gain this strategic advantage within a short time span."

The intelligence chief clapped his hands. "All right. We have quite a lot to work with, I see. Any more speculations on objectives of the assault?"

"Yea... maybe they just wanted a better replicator..." Raynor joked.

"Or maybe they just want some attention, eh?" Saul retorted.

Actually, that was not so far from the truth. During the Master's thesis Saul did on the Federation-Hydran relations, he realized that the Hydrans constantly found themselves shoved to the Galactic sidelines by the bigger players. Pride was a strong morif in many monarchic regimes. Saul could imagine a Hydran waving its three arms at a viewscreen, shouting "Now we've showed 'em!".

"Let's get busy." Saul declared, "We need to examine every scenario. For each one, we need to assess what the enemy's next moves will be, which actions will prove the scenario unlikely, and how should the Galaxy prepare itself in case the scenario is true. Raynor takes 'Atlantis land grab', Novitz takes 'Assault on the UFP', I take 'Corridor to the Klingon Empire'. DarkSky and technical operations will come up with ways to enhance the Galaxy's intelligence gathering capabilities now that all the listening posts in the sector are down, and adapt these capabilities to the current situation. Be sure to coordinate your efforts with Operations and Tactical. The rest of you--"

"Meet the Feebles"

Cmdr. Arel Smith
Lt. Nathan Everett
Ens. Artim Shivar
Lt. Vam'wa (formerly chief flight controller of Carthage)
J'sa, Orion freighter Captain - SS Noobs Pwn

***

DS5

There were hundreds of Klingon sayings that dealt with honor and virtue but none that she knew of that dealt with slipping quietly behind your enemy and slitting his throat. In a positive way, that is.

Arel signaled to the others that the passage was clear.

Nathan, who had been watching from further back, nodded and moved forward, waving Artim and Vam'wa, who made up the rearguard, to follow him.

"You look annoyed, Arel," Cowboy said as he joined the Reliant XO, making sure to keep his phaser at the ready. He gave her a sidelong glance. "Moreso'n usual, Ah mean. What's the matter?"

"Hydrans," Arel replied. "I'm not sure how many we're going to be able to quietly dispose of before it looks suspicious. Suggestions?"

"Simple, lock and load.", the ancient child replied as he did just that. He'd finally managed to get the workings of the Hydran disruptor rifle he'd 'borrowed' down. He then added, "Though if we go easy on them they might only think there's a couple of us alive. That or we could make it look like accidents. Overloading conduits, leaking plasma relays, we could arrange some of those sorts of things. I mean, this is a shot up station, stuff like that is normal."

"The boy makes a good point," Vam'wa spoke finally. The Carthage's Klingon former chief flight controller was walking amidst the rest of the group holding her phaser rifle at the ready while listening and learning. "Although... more honor would come from face to face combat. I am not happy either Commander," she spoke to Smith. "I'm sure Captain Jaxom has a good reason for this subterfuge especially knowing Klingons the way he seems to."

"More honor may come from face to face combat, but less good. Time to stop thinking like Klingons and start thinking like Romulans." Artim retorted fully realizing the Klingonly inclined wouldn't take well to the comment.

Arel made a mental note to drop kick Artim when this all was over. Repeatedly. She could tell that Vam'wa was thinking something similar. "So, whats the plan?"

<BOOM>

Farther along the corridor was one of many nearly identical intersections, from which the explosive noise emerged. Almost immediately several smaller percussive explosions of sound ensued, followed by .... silence. No ringing of alarms, no squelching, blorping sounds of Hydrans in frantic communication with their superiors.

Crouching over one of a half-dozen dead Hydrans was a man. Clad in black, he cloaked himself in a floor length greatcoat that hid most of his features, a full face rebreather/respirator hid the rest. The hilt of a sword and stock of a rifle-like weapon emerged from the back of the coat. Standing and buttoning said jacket closed he turned towards the party, the tinted rebreather visor hiding his face, holding his empty hands out and away from his body - enough to indicate a lack of threatening intentions, but still close enough to get to appropriately concealed devices should the situation warrant. "Glad to see someone else made it out alive. And Starfleet, no less."

Black hair and the dark green skin of his neck and hands announced his species - Orion.

'He's kinda cute,' Vam'wa thought silently but raised her weapon nonetheless. She held it on him just in case he tried something stupid.

"Uh...costume party's one deck up, pal," Cowboy said, pointing upwards with his thumb.

"So much for subterfuge," Arel muttered.

"You can say that again," Vam'wa added in Klingon. "Whose side is he on?"

"Yours," he interrupted. "I am J'sa, captain of the S.S. 'Noobs Pwn,' or what's left of her. I have as much love in the bottom of my heart for these methane suckers as you. As for these intrepid individuals," he waved to the scattered corpses. "I just felt I had to express that love. Their own hearts were found .... wanting."

"This guy's kinda creepy," Nathan muttered to Arel. "But lahk they say, 'the enemy of mah enemy...'"

"I'll just kill later?" Arel finished. "From now on, Captain, we take them down quietly until otherwise ordered." She paused and then added that she liked his sword.

"Please, J'sa," the green man said, pulling the sword from his back. The coat had concealed it's full size - the Scottish claymore was nearly as long as he was tall. "As you command, Commander. And thank you."

Vam'wa lowered her rifle but only slightly. Orions, whether on your side or not weren't necessarily trusted right off the bat. That had been her experience with them at any rate.

Then the sounds of many feet pounding the deck could be heard down another corridor. Apparently the noise the Orion captain made didn't quite go unnoticed.

"Well, looks like you woke em up.", Artim quipped as he started looking for something solid to hide behind when the shooting was to start. Leave it to an Orion to ruin the best laid plans, well, even if they hadn't been laid yet. He then looked to the commander and said, "We going to handle them the Klingon way ma'am?"

"Why not? Ripping your opponent apart in the bloodlust frenzy of hand to hand can be some of the most exhilirating moments in your life, Shorty." Aproaching the Starfleet party, J'sa towered over every one of them by head and shoulders. Despite the greatcoat it was obvious he was quite massively built, as well.

"We may not be able to follow Jaxom's orders in just this instance," Vam'wa mentioned, "Unless we hide quickly and lay in wait." Her body language and tone indicated she didn't really want to attack in such a covert manner.

Ah. They weren't the only ones to have survived. "Well, my new found friends," J'sa began. "I'm afraid our spirited warrior is correct. I'm too large to fit into any of the stations maintenance crawlspaces."

"We should split into two groups for the moment," Arel said. "Try to take whatever surprise there is to be had. *Try* and keep it quiet for now."

"Good idea," Nathan said. "Ah say Shorty, Vam'wa and the masked vigilante go in one group, and me and you in the other."

Arel snorted.

"Don't flatter yerself, darlin'," Cowboy retorted, giving Arel a look. "Yer crazy if you think Ah'm gonna let you outta mah sight. Rena'd kill me if Ah let anythin' happen to you."

"You can't be serious," The XO replied. She didn't need a gorram babysitter. "Okay people, let's move out."

"Stardate: 64907.29"

Location: Unknown

Communication commences at 1802 hrs, text only:

Tag (Anonymous User): CITIZEN TRACER I PRESUME

Pause

Tag (Tracer): THIS IS A SECURE CHANNEL AND I ADVICE YOU TO TERMINATE YOUR CONNECTION AT ONCE

Tag (Anonymous User): I DON'T WANT YOUR ADVICE

Communication terminated by: TRACER

End of transmission.

"The Kahs-wan" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe Chief Engineer USS Galaxy
Lieutenant (Jg) Chandrakala Eshe Engineering Officer USS Galaxy

***Location; Cheleb-khor in the province of Shi'al, Vulcan***

She lies beneath the surface of my psyche. In times of great weakness or peril she breaks forth, to save me? I see her actions through my eyes, I hear her thoughts inside my mind, I feel her urges as if they were my own, yet I continually deny her existence.

Dhanishta felt lost and alone. It was why she came here. The memories and ideals of her past self were slipping further and further away from her. Mannerisms that had once been instinctual, thought processes that had once been natural were now alien; her signature personality was gone, replaced with another. She didn't like what she saw, what she felt or how she knew herself to be perceived by others. But there was nothing that she could do about it. Except, maybe, try to find out what went wrong...

A shiver ran though her, even though she was standing on the hottest place she knew, in the middle of a desert that in summer would literally boil your blood, yet still that cold chill. there it was again, with goose bumps. and once more for luck.

She turned her face to the east looking back down the path she had come. Her footprints had already been blown away by the wind. Those grains of sand that had touched her physical form were already travelling across time and space to touch another's soul. And still she was standing, staring with regret at the path she had traversed to get to where she now stood.

Reaching up she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and half smiled as it instantly fell out of place. The heat arose from the dry ground almost like steam off hot Raktajino, disturbing her line of sight across the horizon. Though hadn't it always been like that? Whether looking forward or back, the view was always distorted. Tainted by what you perceived, remembered and desired to be true. Maybe, just maybe, this perception she had of once living a normal life was just that; a perception. Maybe she was always odd. Always had a target on her forehead. Or maybe, just maybe 'this' was normal, and back then was the strange and peculiar.

Dhanishta tried to focus on the regret that caused the emotions within to swirl. As she breathed in she felt the urge almost overcome her. Felt herself pushing back the tears and the rising sobs. Right now she didn't know what they were for. Not exactly. There was so much, too much. To pinpoint just one moment, one event, one tragedy to weep over, she snorted and shook her head, impossible.

Her reasoning to come back here, to where it all started, to where she started, seemed, at the time her decision was made, to be sound, logical and practical. While the rest of her crew, she paused to chuckle dryly at that: her crew. On some level she did feel like they were hers, hers to watch over and protect on a basic level. Somewhere within her Betazoid blood called out to her to protect the psyche of those she served with. The compassion that she knew lay somewhere deep beneath her icy exterior cried out to help the helpless and consol the grieved. The darker side of that same voice, that same intention which on the whole was good and pure, was laced with the need to enact vengeance for those grieving few. Though what was more painful was that was the 'lighter', 'whiter', side of that demonic darkness that consumed from within.

Her crew, her colleagues, some friends, some enemies all of them were here upon the same soil, or rather sand. While their journeys differed in goals their paths were a similar one. Her comrades were here to be exorcised from Vulcan Katras. Dhanishta understood all to well what it was like to have another's voice inside your mind. To feel their wrath and pain. To live a life that was never meant to be yours, to see a path that only lead to death and destruction. No one had noticed when she had lived through that hell. No one recognised the signs of a woman possessed. That was just another reason to add to the list of why she was here.

While her crew were removing memories she was here trying to find one. Irony liked to have its fun. But so far she had not uncovered the memory she believed she had come to find, only more questions, more confusion and more glimpses to a past that she didn't recollect.

*** Vulcana Regnar in the province of Raal, Vulcan. Day One***

"I do 'not' miss the 'heat'!" Kala exclaimed as they dematerialized on the hot Vulcan plain.

"You can cut that out right now!" Dhani replied sharply hitching her bag further up on her shoulder and storming ahead.

"Cut what out?" Kala remarked sourly as she groped for her own bags and fell into step behind her sister.

Dhani sighed aggravated, "We have been here less than five seconds and already you're complaining."

"Well excuse me!" Kala retorted indigently.

Turning round sharply Dhani faced her sister with a stern look. "Are you going to take this seriously or not?" she demanded flatly.

Having slid to a holt in the sand Kala held up her hands in retreat and nodded dubiously, "Yes, of course." she replied frowning, surprised by Nishta's touchiness.

"Well then cut out the quips, pick up your shit and let's go!" Pivoting sharply in the sand Dhani continued on course to her destination without further delay.

For a moment Kala just stood and watched her sister stalk off. ~This was supposed to be family bonding time,~ she grumbled, ~great start to it!~ Shaking her head she repositioned her bag on her back and trudged on in Nishta's wake.

Kala had never been particularly fond of Vulcan. Bad memories lay here by the way side, seemingly forgotten by her twin. So many times she urged to speak about what she recalled, yet every time something stopped her. Casting her eyes up from the sandy earth she let them wander over their surroundings. The province of Raal lay on the western edge of Na'nam; though she did not recall her time here fondly she could still draw a map of the province in which she was born. Being one of the most geologically stable regions Raal contained numerous old settlements. A twinge of nostalgia rippled through as she remembered Kerenza detailing her archeological studies of the region as if it were a bed time story. ~~Over half of the province consists of temperate coastlands which lie along the Voroth and the Na'ree River Valley.~~ her mothers voice cooed softly inside her head, ~~One day when your sister is well we'll take a boat out and traverse the old watercourse, would you like that Kala?~~ the answer to the question was the same now as it was then a flat, slightly disgusted, no!

Kala sighed as she kicked a pebble among many and watched the dirt swirl, rise and then fall. She did not like how comfortable her mothers' first name slipped off her mental tongue. She had been so close with her mother. For years, well all her life really, but recently, since Nishta's coma, she had begun to think of her mother as a person. It was a strange way to describe the growing gulf between her and her mother, but it was the only way she knew how. Kerenza had always been there for her. She was the one that Kala ran to when she was hurt, sad or grieved. Since Nishta's coma that bond had begun to die. She had seen her mother in a different light. On that day, as clouded with emotion as it had been, she had sensed a motivation within Kerenza that had nothing at all to do with motherly love.

"Nish?" Kala called softly.

"Yeah?" came the disinterested reply from ahead.

Kala shook her head. "Nothing." she chimed back dismissing the gnawing feelings that concerned her. Sighing deeply she continued to wonder and worry about her sister. ~Who are you?~ was the question that repeated inside her mind as she watched the figure before her ~What happened? Why did you change?~. Adjusting her hood to shade her face from the sun she folded her arms and walked on in silence.

Arching an eyebrow Dhanishta shrugged inwardly. Whatever it was, it was obviously unimportant.

"We will be there soon." she reassured Kala already sensing that she was getting nothing out of this trip.

"I know." Kala replied in a voice laced with repressed emotion. "I remember the way too." she added softly.

Dhanishta inhaled quickly, a haughty retort was already on the tip of her tongue, but she refrained and silenced her serpent's forks. Slowing her pace she waited for Kala to catch up.

"Kal, what's wrong?" Dhanishta asked gently. She was surprised at the softness of her tone. Or rather at how soft it was compared to how she had been sounding these last few months. For some reason she was constantly agitated. Always on the defensive, never letting up, she had been keeping everyone at arms length since Kimberly had dragged her in to see Brian.

Luckily he understood the word 'vacation' and there for didn't pester her to come in for another 'chat'. All in all he had left her be since that day. He was still keeping tabs on her, reminding her that they had to get together soon, although he did it in a way that wasn't pestering. It was nice she supposed. But then she also sensed that he was just biding his time while he got as much information together as he possibly could to get her locked up and sectioned. ~Damn counselors. Stupid bloody Kimberly. I could swing for her, I could rip out her throat and feed it to a targ!~

There it was again, the anger. It coiled and burned inside, it hurt as it flamed and it clogged her mind like thick fog distracting her from thinking about anything else. That's why she had taken this time off. It was a perfect excuse to get back in touch with the person that she was, the one she used to be. For Kala to accompany her just seemed natural, but now that they were here, she could feel that Kala wasn't happy.

"Nothing's wrong." Kala replied quietly, "I'm fine."

Dhanishta stopped and turned, "Kal, that's rubbish. I'm your sister, I know when your unhappy." she informed her with a slight indignant air, huffing inwardly, Kala should know by now that she could hide nothing!

Nodding slightly Kala looked up with glistening eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, "Dito." she croaked.

Dhanishta frowned and shook her head slowly. "I don't know what you mean."

Kala wiped her eyes before any tears fell, "What's the point Nish?" she replied flatly swallowing another lump and striding past.

Dhanishta's face scrunched more. She stood for a second or two in contemplation before following on. "Kala I don't know what."

"What I'm talking about?" Kala finished slightly angry. "Of course you don't. You walk around with your head in the sand, pretending that everything is okay. That everything is normal. You proclaim that you know how I'm feeling, you say you do, but you constantly evade the problem."

"What is the problem?" Dhani asked bewildered trying desperately to get Kala to stop but she wouldn't. She could feel Kala's anger rise up, she could hear it by the way she was verbalizing, but she could also feel the source of the anger: pain. And that concerned her greatly.

"The problem is you Nish."

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