USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60709.23 - 607089.29

{{OOC: Warning - Chris' vision of Raynor-cam was never so close to reality.}}

"Sensitive Area"

Major Pete Shaw
Marine Detachment XO

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief of Intelligence

Raynor was sitting in his office 'reading' an old playboy, and was slowly squeezing the 'trigger' on his his 'phaser'. There might have been a war on but he was still a guy with needs. So of course Murphy's Law stated that someone had to try and barge into the CIC demanding to speak with the chief who of course wasn't there at the moment... destroying the mood right before he could "discharge" his "weapon"...

One of the things about Intel is that no one outside of Intel knew the schedule... except maybe Nara... because she was sleeping with Saul... but other than that... no one knew... wait... there was Bran who seemed to have the timing down... and Fay... and Saul's old right hand... what was her name? Nyoko Yuuri... and pretty much anyone else who had anything to do with the Harem of women Saul seemed to collect... outside of that... no one knew the Intel schedule...

He heard things like... "Sir, this is a restricted area..." and various other warnings and information which of course this slum bitch was deciding to ignore. Raynor unfortunately was in charge of things at the moment and as such he couldn't ignore unauthorized persons... trying to enter 'sacred' ground...

Of course try was the operative word here... he hadn't actually gotten past the door yet... so of course there was a major ruckus happening in the hallway attracting alot of attention to the otherwise quie-... well no actually there was usually some sort of ruckus but those were usually Raynor doing something incredibly dumb as to make this section look like anything but where someone would put incredibly sensitive data...

Raynor sighed... put away his 'equipment'... gathered up a few items while disposing of others... and headed towards the door... as soon as the door opened for him... the man made a move for the door... Raynor grabbed the nearest real phaser within and upon setting it to minimum stun, he shot said unauthorized person in the crotch... before approaching... it would be bad for people to think that you could get into the Information Centre this way.

"Sorry about that... regulations and all... So what can we do you for?" Raynor asked standing over the man who was now quite clearly in pain...

Pete stood back up and decked the creepy little man, knocking him flat on his ass. Pete reached down and picked the phaser up and pointed it at the little man... "That is for shooting me. Next time it will be a full report instead of me decking you," he said as he pulled the power cell out of the phaser and put it in his pocket before tossing the phaser back. He then pointed at his own. "This isn't on low itching stun. Now where is Saul, there is a war on, and we need to actually work together and act like we are on the same side."

"Well within my authority... unauthorized person attempting to enter a restricted area... warned..." Raynor spoke smiling as if the phaser wasn't a threat... "You could report me but you won't get very far on that... also you should be aware that I just farted and with the amount of methane in the air currently... you would blow us both up if you fired."

"Warning is not shooting a guy in the nuts, and I actually USE them," Pete said as he held out a hand. "For a creepy little fuck head, you are alright."

Zev grabbed the hand up, using the hand that had been using his other 'phaser' which was, in all honestly, still a little sticky...

"No the warning was the words that the little people were using when you barged in here... you just weren't paying attention... but anyways... You... Get Saul... Chop Chop..." Raynor Commanded the nearest Ensign. Turning back to the Major, "Also keep in mind... there's a war on... and allowing anyone without proper access especially people who are thrown into situations where they'll be facing Hydrans who tend replace people with cloned sleeper agents... so you know... its just not smart... but if you were to give a two minute warning before you actually got here... then I might not have to shoot you in the balls as much..." Raynor suggested.

"Really, I don't look like a Hydran... but whatever," Shaw retorted.

"Neither did O'Shea. And yet I wouldn't let her in here."

Saul Bental strolled toward the door. His pace was slow, as a result of a lack of sleep. While Raynor was working on 'Hand Weapons', the Dutchman was running around like a hyperactive Pakled on speed. Eventually, even stoned Pakleds got tired.

"You are fast." He told Shaw, "I only contacted BUPERS an hour ago."

"Eh?"

"Ah, never mind then." Saul replied, somewhat relieved. Perhaps Raynor was holding a phasor, but the Dutchman wouldn't put his life in Zev's hands once Shaw finds out about Baile. He seemed safe for now, though.

"Who is this O'Shea person?" Pete asked.

"O'Shea was the ship's Chief Engineer, up until it was discovered that she was replaced by a Hydran clone." Saul informed the Major. "Hottest clone you ever saw. Now, how may I be of assistance?"

"Well, if you haven't heard there is a war going on, and I hate to say this, but we need information on what we are going into. We are assuming all the locations that have been attacked are gone, but that doesn't help a lot since we are headed right for DS5. We need to know what to expect, for both boarding here on the Galaxy and if we have to go over to what is left of DS5."

Saul clapped his hands. "Ah, you have come to the right place."

But, as he, Raynor and the Major settled into the infamous 'conference room by the entrance', it became quite obvious that Saul's declaration was far from truthful. The marines already had DS5's schematics, and the threat assessment provided by Bental was merely a run-down of the Hydrans' ships, fighters and hand weapons. Nothing specific.

"No one in Starfleet know exactly how the station was taken over." Saul explained. "It was taken by surprise, so we have no information from them on which to base a threat assessment. It is not surrounded by a huge armada because that would appear on our SFI's long range sensors. Other than that, the amount and type of resistance we'll encounter at DS5 is unknown."

"Lovely... that is about as useful as a clown in a Vulcan hospital," Pete grunted out. "How about any information you have on the forces that we are going up against. We have engaged all of them before... I was there first hand. Any reports you have to help explain their tactics. I would take what their mating habits are."

"You may run into Starfleet officers who will shoot at you," Raynor offered. "This doesn't necessarily mean that clone agents... so capturing said individuals would be preferred to outright killing them. Not that we actually expect you to be any good an capturing an enemy since its harder than killing them. Also fighting Hydrans in an oxygen environment will result in explosions if you puncture their suits due to the whole methane/oxygen/phaser thing... so you know shoot them from range... same thing will happen to your guys if you fight them in a Methane environment except you'll blow up not them... I could go over other stuff if you want us to continue to spoon feed you..."

"I know about the exploding parts. I did fight some of them less then a year ago," Pete grumbled back. "Everything I know about their tactics is what I saw there, and since I was in a city environment what I know is limited to their tactics in that kind of environment. Fighting in a space station is much different."

"But you're not reading the overall situation..." Raynor retorted. "They've occupied the station and are in the middle of fighting a resistance force, or at least they're being attacked by hack jobs... either way... if the hack jobs are being allowed to happen at all... they'd be sending out small skirmishes to try and seek out those behind their occupational woes. Given the fact they've probably taken control of or at least surrounded Central Command Centre of DS5. If their Hydrans fighting at all, their fighting an enemy using Guerrilla tactics against them. When your fighting against Guerrilla tactics, the most obvious thing to do is send massive numbers at them and try and surround the insects that are picking off guys here and there... making hit, run, and hide... harder... assuming we're fighting someone who has any training in warfare we'll be fighting that line of thinking. At least that's how I see it... if we were to follow the obvious..."

"You're optimistic, Zev." Saul disagreed. "True, the Hydrans must have taken the command center. And as soon as they did they would vent all the oxygen out of the station, and replace if with Methane atmosphere. Since they took the station by surprise, I believe that only a handful of people managed to get into life pods or space suits before the air was vented, and then it would be easy to kill them off - just like the Hydrans did to the Romulan escape pods after every single battle last year. "

He turned toward Shaw. "Now, we haven't seen the Hydrans repel space-borne boarding parties, but we saw them attempting to board vessel, and they'll naturally expect us to use tactics similar to what they know. They use squads of three, six or nine, and move quickly toward their target areas. They'll be fortifying the Command center and other critical sections against such an assault, which means that the majority of the base will be lightly defended. You could embed your forces deep into the station, and then start surrounding key areas and slowly close in."

Pete nodded. "Sounds good," Pete took note of it. "Any chances of transporting in an explosive?"

"Depends on the status of the Shields, which we'll know only after we dropped out of warp," said Saul. "We have to assume the station is shielded, in which case you'll probably want to breach it and get shuttles in. Once inside, you could perhaps take over the station's transporters and use them to deliver 'packages' throughout the station. I doubt we'll have to worry about hurting hostages in the process - any surviving Federation members are probably clones."

"We don't know that Boss Monkey..." Raynor shot back. "In fact there is more evidence to suggest that there are survivors... we did receive a message from people claiming to be survivors which was convincing enough to divert us from Corvallis to Deep Space Five... which is not a small course change, considering they're on opposite sides of the Federation. We can't just assume that there aren't any survivors that may be left aren't the real deal, and not just some knockoffs. Are you really willing to randomly bomb a station if there's even a chance that your killing any inside men we may still have on board that station? And that's not even touching the fact that most shuttles would be dead within three seconds, upon coming within weapons range... five if their good... its a suicide mission."

Raynor looked into the eyes of these two men, trying to see if they cared at all.

"One which we won't execute at least this time around." said Saul. "I expect that we'll return to warp as soon as we assess the situation on and around the station. We're alone at the moment, and unless the Hydran fleet moved on and left only a small garrison I don't expect the marines to be deployed. So no, no suicide missions. This is all on a theoretical level, since we have to be prepared for anything."

"We are planning that there is a small force and that we will be boarding the station and repelling borders here on the Galaxy," Pete replied.

"If you're still inclined to go through with this crazy plan..." Raynor started up again. "Have the shuttles target one key system... the shield generators themselves. Makes it so that we won't have the same crazy ass mission twice anytime soon."

"That'll be harder than you may think, because the shield system is backed up and distributed." Saul sighed. "The Station's shielding system is more robust than the usual design because of its risky location. But really, we're stealing Tactical's bread here; Our job is to provide the Major with information about the enemy, not to advise him on a course of action."

"One thing I hate about the Dominion War, that we now make our own stations harder for us to break back into," Pete sighed. "If the shield are up and a small contingent of ships, we aren't getting in. There will be no way without having a large casualty percentage. And I am not in the habit of sending troops on suicide missions. I only send myself."

"Let's hope." said Saul, and he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, "That you won't have to do that, either."

"Okay... one more thing we may need to address..." Raynor said turning to Shaw. "Everyone outside this room thinks that you've lost your balls... rumors have already reached your marines... and the moral is starting to be affected... I'm not quite clear what the effects will be as some find it extremely hilarious while others find it discouraging... if you want to put a stop to these rumors it might be best to walk around with you nether region exposed so that they can in fact see that everything is right where it should be... for the next... oh I don't know... three hours or so..."

"Stardate: 64909.13" File #5

Location: Unknown

<Accessing: Betazed Public Archives>

Name: Dagan Sorien
Species: Betazoid
Born: Stardate 59903.14
Died: Stardate 63707.29

Name: Dagan Sorien
Birthplace: Dalaria, Dalar: Betazed.
Status: Married
Personal details: Married Nathalie stardate 62508.07. Two children; Dariel, born stardate 62707.06 & Ilumina, born stardate 63101.30.

<Redirecting?>

<Working?>

Name: Nathalie Sorien
Specices: Betazoid
Born: Stardate 59505.18
Died: Stardate 63707.29

Name: Nathalie Sorien
Birthplace: Hedayan Archipelago Islands: Betazed
Status: Married
Personal details: Two Children Dariel, born stardate 62707.06 & Ilumina, born stardate 63101.30.

<Redirecting?>

<Working?>

<Working?>

Dagan Sorien and his family, found stardate 63707.29 in family home Hedeya, Betazed, suspected homicide.

Sorien family homicide 63709.17 Case closed.

<Pause>

<Affirmative: all available data suggests that this file has been purged.>

<Warning: unauthorized access to classified file has been detected>

End of transmission.

"Shut up and wait!"

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign Alexandria "Wych" Goddard
Intelligence Officer - Infiltration/Extraction Specialist

<< Starfleet Academy North Lecture Hall -Room 303 >>
<< Earth - 2380 >>

Forth Year Cadet Alexandria Goddard sat in her chair, to her right was cadet Montanez and to her left, cadet Boudreau. Or as she knew them, Theresa and Cindy. The trio on campus were considered the three amigos, or to their male counterparts, the three heads of the insatiable hydra. The trio became friends right off in their first year, and it seemed the trio were inseparable. Today they were listening to a special quest speaker, Rear Admiral Travis (npc) Retired address the soon to be graduating class of twenty three - eighty, and regaling them with his fond memories of when he was a first year cadet himself within these very sacred halls. Boring! The three women almost of mind like when it came to matters of being bored, the three wished they were down at the Cosmos - the newest local watering hole sharing drinks with some of the other forth year boys. But at least Rear Admiral Travis was giving them a break from their scheduled lecture.

The period ended with Rear Admiral Travis thanking them for allowing him to bore them with his fond memories, he was not far from the truth, and the class gave their usual enthusiastic applause to give the Admiral a warm and fuzzy feeling. Once out of the lecture hall, the trio made their way across the campus yard to head for their next lesson across the beautiful gardens way.

"What a bore!" Began Cindy.

"Your telling me, what would I care about some admiral's days in the academy." Added Theresa, using air quotes to make a point on the word "days". "I guess its all part and package of being a graduating class that they impress upon us some old farts idea of what the - back in the days was for them." Rolling her eyes and getting a giggle from the other two women.

"I thought he was a dear, after all, as we were constantly reminded, with the fresh wounds of the Dominion War and all, things have so changed since his day." Piped Alexandria, getting the two women to giggle even more. But the giggling came to an abrupt halt when the trio heard a voice call out.

"Cadet Goddard, stand fast!" Came the commanding voice of Commander Railton (npc). Commander Railton was Goddard's student advisor, and was assisting her with preparing for her cadet cruise. "I need to have a word with you." As he came up to where the trio stood, he could see the questionable look on all their faces. "I wish to speak with Cadet Goddard alone ladies, so if you please, continue on to class without her." Offering the other two ladies a half ass grin.

"Well see you in class." Spoke both women in unison, then turned and left the Commander and Goddard alone.

"What can I do for you Sir." Asked Goddard, knowing she had no other matters to clear up with him since they had finalized everything two days ago.

"Well it's interesting you should ask Cadet Goddard." Began Railton. "I was asked to come find you, your presence is requested in the deans office, and before you get alarmed, you are not in any sort of trouble." Seeing her facial expression change to a expression of shock. "All I know is that you were asked to be brought to his office right now."

"Okay then. What's up?" Turning to follow the commander, and asking to see if he would shed some light as to why she was in fact sent for.

"I do not know the answer to that, I guess you'll have to wait and see." Answered Railton.

"Wait and see." Rebuffed Goddard. If there was one thing Goddard hated in doing was... waiting.

<< Office of the Dean of Starfleet Academy >>

"Come and have a seat Cadet Goddard." Offered Captain Somners (npc) - Dean, then turning to Railton gave him a nod that signified he was done, and that he may return to whatever it was he was doing before being summoned with regards to Cadet Goddard. You could read all you want an individual's dossier, but getting first hand information from other sources was crucial to knowing that individual more intimately. Once the door was closed, Somner came to where his seat, his badge of honor, was and sat himself down. Then he made an introduction, all the while cadet Goddard sat in silence... waiting. "Cadet Goddard, may I introduce to you Lieutenant Commander Reynaldo Harris (npc)." Motioning to the man to Goddard's right dressed in civilian attire.

"Hello Commander." Acknowledged Goddard.

"Cadet, I read in your record that your almost the best in your advanced tactical course, and that your an excellent marksman." Harris simply nodding when she said hello and then getting to the heart of the matter of her requested presence, in a round about way. "Why are you not the top?"

At first Alexandria felt as though she was given a stern punch to the face, but then, not knowing who this man was other than his rank and name, returned the abruptness, forgetting who's office she was sitting in. "Because there is someone better of course." Her Australian accent not masking her contempt at his boldness.

Harris smiled. Then turned to Captain Somners and to everyone's surprise but his own made a very odd request. "Captain, can we be left alone." His smile was masking the reality that if he chose to he could take his... interview elsewhere.

Somners stood, mustered all the dignity of his office and began to move out from behind his desk. "Of course. How long would you require the use of my office for?" Asked so he would know when he could have it back.

"I think half an hour will suffice Captain, and thank you." Replied Harris.

Somners as he passed by Goddard gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, then left the office to the two of them. If any one else were to make such a request of him, he would have flat out denied it, but this was not any form of normal circumstance, Harris was Intelligence, to be more precise, a recruiter for Intel Division.

Harris got up and sat on the edge of Somners desk directly in front of Goddard, and let hang heavy the silence in the air for effect before proceeding. "I understand you have three months left of classes before exams, then you are to be on your cadet cruise aboard the U.S.S Rotherham. Is that correct?"

"Yes Sir." Answered Goddard, not quite sure what this man wanted of her.

"Well now, do I have an offer of a life time for you Alex." Using the common shorten form of her first name. "How would you like to come to work for me, or rather my office." Asked Harris, still setting his hook with bait for the catch.

"What office is that?" Asked Goddard, falling for the baited hook.

"Intelligence Division Alex my dear, Intelligence!" A wide grin on his face as though he had just offered her the universe, and like a Ferengi, was about to complete the sale of her lifetime.

<< Present Time >>
<<Inside Listening Post: Designation - Top Secret >>

Alex looked at her current options. One - she and Petty Officer Com-d'Vile (npc) were screwed! Two - she and Com-d'Vile were inside the "secret" listening post safe and sound- albeit Com-d'Vile was wounded, but restricted to the barracks section as she did not have the access codes to gain access to anything more. And three - well there was no three, but she felt having everything happen in three's was easier to cope with than that one lingering anomaly. Frustrated Alex paced the floor before the wounded man, and tried to remain calm after giving the fact they nearly did not survive the attack on the transport vessel onroute to DS5 by the Hydran. THREE! The Hydran placed her and the petty officer in their current predicament. She knew three would come to her soon enough. Giggling to herself she planted her right hand to her forehead and her left on her hip, and without realizing she had an audience spoke aloud. "For Pete's sake, what was I thinking abandoning the escape pod, now I am stuck here with dick all I can do!"

PO Mnementh "Menth" Com-d'Vile (NPC - Eric), being the good NCO he is, finally opened his mouth for a single utterance. "Ma'am, shut the fuck up before I stand up and knock you out!" Standing wasn't much of an option for him - he'd taken a belly full of shrapnel when a helbore blast had ripped through the transport's Main Engineering. Menth counted himself lucky to have even made it to an escape pod before the ship finally blew. Now he was stuck here with what appeared to be a loony Intel officer. Then again Intelligence Officers usually had to be loony to get their jobs done properly, or so Menth believed. He was a 'simple' engineer with a wealth of knowledge most would die for (and usually did.) He had an intelligence rating, and only because he'd been drafted by some other Intel loony to assist with the refurbishment of a handful of these listening posts back when he'd first joined the fleet. No connections, no family, no one to miss him if he slipped out of line. "Just be thankful it was me in your pod, not some useless low-life, sit down, shut up, and above all else, CALM DOWN!" He paused. "Ma'am."

"I am calm, and your not helping me here petty officer." Accentuating the difference in their rank, but when it came to Intel they were more relaxed when it came to ranks. There was always a team leader, the rest was based on mutual respect for one another's skills - not rank. "I'm just trying to sort out in my mind what I... we, can do here. I surely don't need to be sitting at this moment." Shot back Goddard. She knew the petty officer meant well, but she was in no mood to be 'taking it easy'. "Just what the fuck happened. I mean, why in the hell were we not informed that there were hostilities in the area eh! Why were we caught with our trousers about our ankles?"

"What happened, Lieutenant, is Starfleet's been sucker punched." Menth glowered at her. "Hydrans have probably already taken out DS5 if we've been hit this far out, otherwise there'd be half of Starfleet in the area. As for what we can do?" He waved his right hand around to indicate the sparse yet comfortable furnishings of the post's Barracks compartment. Four bunks, a replicator, lavatory, storage lockers with relatively useless equipment, and not much else. "Pray that we're stumbled upon by friendlies and SOON. We've got maybe 2 months worth of supplies, but I won't last more than a week with just first aid supplies."

Or without cranky pills thought Goddard. "We can't just sit around and do nothing, we should try and access the other areas of the listening post, we need to send out a warning at the very least to Starfleet. Hell! We need to see if this thing is still functioning." Grabbing the lower bunk next to Com-d'Vile. "Your an engineer and you knew this was here, surely there is something we can do?" What Goddard meant by "we", she meant "he", as her skills when it came to anything elemental in the form of engineering was mere basic fundamentals.

"What we can do is wait." He pointed to the bulkhead door at one end of the room. "There's the door to space." He pointed to the other end of the room. "Behind that is the access to the Core, where all of the nifty gadgets are. Mostly high order sensor pallets and other such drivel. You don't have authorization to go in, and any codes I MAY have had expired when I stepped out years ago. So, unless you'd care to get physical, and be careful about it, there's not a damned thing we can do but wait."

"Not good enough!" Huffed Goddard. "I am not saying that I am not grateful to be alive, hell knows we are better off in here than your shipmates, but how can you say wait it out." Wanting to scream at him to make her point, but knew it would only frustrate the pair of them. "We need to do something, what if two months comes and goes, and we did nothing more than just sit here." Lying back on the bunk and stretching her legs out fully onto the mattress, but turning her head slightly to face the man squarely in the eyes. "What then huh?" Her Australian accent making her question more of a challenge than an actual question.

"Anything we can do will result in death. there's no EVA suits so we can't float off into space. There's no way we can access the Core. There's nothing here in the Barracks that we can use as a transmitter. If DS5 is down, my guess is that Starfleet's going to be sending people out Pronto to get these posts reconfigured. Intel doesn't like being blind." He knew she understood that more than anyone else, what with what her job was.

"I know, I know." Fussed Goddard. "Just does not mean I have to like it. I guess this is where the phrase 'between a rock and a hard place' comes in. But it doesn't mean I have to like it one bit mate."

"Never said you had to like anything," Menth replied. With that he set his head back onto the pillow of his bunk and closed his eyes. "Get some sleep, you'll feel better when you're rested."

"Yeah rested." Responded Goddard as she attempted to stifle a yawn, and in truth she was rather tired from the ordeal. Before she could say anything more, she heard the quiet snoring coming from her right, and as if on cue, her own eye lids began to grow heavy. All Alex could do was give in to the sandman, but she made a promise to herself that waiting was not going to be good enough, not by a long shot.

"The Avatar" - Part I

Jander Tholme, Master of the Duty Free

with the crew of the Duty Free
Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer
Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic
Julianne Bhune, Engineer
"Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and...
Unknown Andorian Shen

****
Deep Space, Location Unknown

Pull the handle.

That's all she had to do. Just... pull the handle! She reached for it again, over her head, the body harness cinching her tight against the seat.

Pull the handle.

Wait.

She paused, hand hovering just below the black and yellow barber-pole handle.

What was she doing? She couldn't remember.

Pull the handle!

Something was not right. Lowering her hand to her forehead, her fingertips brushed against the slowly descending rivulet of blood. Pulling back at the stinging sensation as her finger probed the peeled-back wound, she studied the hot liquid mottled over her fingers.

Blood.

Hers? Of course, but... how?

PULL THE HANDLE!

ThumpThumpThumpThumpThump--decompression explosions. Racing through the hull of the....

Ship?

Yes, ship!

She was on a ship! And it had been....

Attacked?

Others.

There are others! Quickly, wiping blood from her vision, she disengaged the harness, quickly discovering the gravity had failed. Pushing back the sudden urge to vomit, she kicked off the seat-back and propelled herself toward the closed hatch.

"Open," she commanded. Nothing happened. "Open!" she yelled again, startling herself at the sound of her own voice, husky and rough with smoke inhalation. She tried the manual release - no good.

Through the hatchport she could see into the corridor of the ship. Strange, no fire; no burning atmosphere or gouts of flame.

She crouched closer to the transluminum pane, the blood of her wound smearing across the hatchport.

Carefully, she leaned closer, listening.

Nothing.

She peered closer into the ethereal darkness beyond, searching for anything recognizable. There!

Something floating in the darkness! She peered closer. It almost looked like an--

Arm.

Her adrenaline kicked in instantly, her mind on automatic as she pulled back from the hatchport, bile threatening to rise up her throat.

Dead.

All of them--Dead!

BOOM!

Pull.

The.

Handle!

She was dead, wasn't she? Hadn't she been?

She reached down--across herself, one hand reactivating the safety harness. The other....

Pulled the handle.

****
Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free
Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

The figure on the bed made a sound, unintelligible, but sound nonetheless. Pain was all it felt; across its chest and arms, down its legs. Its head. Something was wrong with its head. It tried to move, tried to open its eyes--left one, good. Right one....

Well, that one wasn't working, then.

Something was holding it. Across the ankles, at the wrist. It panicked, thrashing and extending itself, lifting its body off the bed, to no use. It was captured.

*She* was captured.

She could move her head, at least. She looked down her body, her one-eyed gaze meeting the naked forms of her heavy breasts, bruised and sore. Her gaze went further downward, an old scar tracing its way down, down, disappearing beneath the blood-soaked panties between her legs. Otherwise... she was bare.

"Oothaa na muni'chaal ithkii'aa thoep na!" she swore out, not knowing how she knew the language she had spoken. What did it mean? She didn't care. It felt like what she wanted to convey to whoever had put her in such bondage. "Thaalash'na veth kaal chuur jurth'eevuul siimananna hassa!" she yelled again, spittle flying from the corner of her mouth as she shook her head violently side to side.

The litany of swear words pouring from the restrained woman was finally interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Straining to look over the top of her head toward the noise, she found herself staring at a human man, probably in his late thirties. He wore the strictly functional clothing that spacers who lived closer to the Federation border favored, and a gun belt was slung low across his hips, leaving the grip of the phaser pistol it held within easy reach of his right arm.

As he ducked to cross the hatchway into the cramped med-station, Jander Tholme paused. She had fought a considerable amount, even injured to such an unbelievable extent, when they had pulled her from the wreckage of her escape pod. Given that, leaving a weapon anywhere close to her was likely unwise. Withdrawing the pistol from the holster as casually as he could, he placed it on a rolling table that was currently covered in medical supplies.

"Well, you may just be the luckiest Andorian this side of SB 447," Jander stated, moving to sit near, but just out of reach of her. He had a few questions he needed answered before he was going to let her loose on his ship.

A low, animal growl was her only response as the blazing yellow irised gaze of her good eye bored into the human.

"I suppose that means you don't agree," he said by way of reply, shaking his head. "Can't say I blame you. So, what's your name, kid?"

"Jaaja uni thewa hassa!" she yelled nonsensically again.

Tholme blinked twice, then jabbed his commlink wristband irritably. "Julianne, if you can't understand Dol or Saeihr, it means the UT is off again. Anything you can do about that?"

[Already on it. Not that Dol or Saeihr talk that much,] a sardonic voice replied from his wrist. [There, that should do it. Honestly, Tholme, the computers on this thing are so old that they're making up their own programming, I swear. No matter how many times I purge them, they--]

Tholme turned off his commlink, removed it from his wrist, and threw it over with his gun. "Do you understand me now?"

"Thook do," she spat at him again. Holmes was quite aware the meaning of that particular Andorian suggestion, even without the UT.

"Look, kid, if you want me to drop you on the next rock we pass, or with the Orions, that's fine," Tholme snapped back, eyes narrowing in irritation. "Or you can stop acting like an unvaccinated Targ and start cooperating."

"Targ'aasa?!" she howled at him, arms straining the old-fashioned Nyloc wrist binders. "Gee na homm ka stupid idiot!"

There, now the UT was working again.

He opened his mouth to bark out a snarky reply, but let it snap shut as he thought better of it. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, because I'd hate to space someone so pretty. Now that you can understand me, I have some questions for you. Let's start basic. What is your name?"

The shen let her head fall back onto the table, her uninjured antenna flopping back in resignation. Slowly, she lifted her head up again, only to find the man's gaze still fixed on her. "Why... am I... prisoner?" she asked haltingly, her voice surprisingly soft for someone so brash.

What was it with people and not answering questions, Tholme wondered. "You're not. You're restrained because when we pulled you out of your escape pod, you were halfway dead. After you fought my crew, you were mostly dead. If you move around too much, you're in danger of reopening injuries. Or at least that's what Saeihr tells me. Honestly, you're lucky she's as good at fixing people as she is at killing them."

"Romulan, huh?" she asked. "Unbond me," she said next. "At least... wrists. How injured...am I?"

"A lot of internal injuries, mostly across your chest. You probably took a hit from something large and blunt. Your upper left arm is badly burned, and there's transluminum laced scratches and cuts on your back," he said, ignoring her request for the time being. "That's all more or less minor, console explosion type stuff."

"Rhooz," she swore softly in Andorian, her tongue sweeping across her broken bottom lip, testing the wound. "I was in an... explosion?" she asked, confusion clear across her face. Suddenly, the reality of what must have happened dawned. "You...blew up...my ship!" she screamed at him, arms--even the badly-burned left arm--flexing dangerously at the restraints, total confusion and bewilderment evident in her frothing yell; clearly delirious.

Tholme shook his head again. "You must have hit your head pretty hard. If we had shot you down, why would we bother patching you up? There are easier ways to take prisoners. The damage to the escape pod we picked up was done by Hydran fusion weapons and Hellbore cannons."

"Hy-dran?" she asked, staring up at the grimy ceiling. "What... Hydran? You... make up." She tried to sit up, her chest heaving from exertion. "And why... strip? Rape-seller?"

Tholme frowned. He hadn't explained the more major damage, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that it was worse than Saeihr had thought. Lacerations and bruises, even internal bleeding and ruptured organs they could deal with. Brain damage, not so much. "Hydrans, ah...like Romulans, but worse," he explained, comparing what he wanted to get at with something he knew she recognized. Saeihr would probably cut his throat if she heard it, but that was a bridge he'd hopefully never have to cross. "And we stripped you because your clothes were, ah...destroyed. Burned. Covered in blood. Had to strip you to treat your injuries."

She shifted her gaze to her naked breasts and the bruised blue and black skin across her stomach and abdomen, then returned back to Tholme. He was rugged, she saw, with a strong, prominent jaw; sharp nose and a fierce stormy eyes.

Pirate. The word jumped to the front of her mind. But if he was a pirate, then....

"Who am I?"

"The Avatar" - Part II

Jander Tholme, Master of the Duty Free

with the crew of the Duty Free
Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer
Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic
Julianne Bhune, Engineer
"Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and...
Unknown Andorian Shen

****
Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free
Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

"Who am I?"

"And I was just about to ask you the same question," he replied, shrugging. This was going to be complicated. Perhaps he should have listened to Zhenia and ignored the escape pod. "You're obviously military or ex-military by your build. The clothes you had were pretty standard trader garb. A little too standard actually. So maybe Starfleet Intelligence? Maybe criminal, but I think that's less likely."

"Not... Star-fleet," she whispered. "Not... criminal." The unbroken antenna bobbed and curled slightly, the creases of her brow indicating some sort of deep, searching thought. "Identification? I--" she paused, closing her eye, "cannot remember."

"ID. That would make this a lot easier. No. Well, yes. You had a data rod on you, but the crystal's fractured. It'd take tools we don't have to fix it," he replied, "And a military grade ITI--sorry, Individual Transponder Information chip--at the base of your skull, under the skin. We pulled it, to try to figure out who you are, but it had a chunk of transluminum embedded in it. Probably saved your life."

ITI... data rod... transluminum. The words shifted and swirled around her head. "I not remember," she whispered. "I not remember! NotrememberNotrememberNotrememberNot--" she babbled, then suddenly stopped. "You?" she asked, the good antenna jabbing toward him.

Caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, it took Tholme a moment to respond. "I'm Captain Jander Tholme. You're on the Duty Free, my ship. We're a merchant ship, out of Deep Space Five.

That's a Federation outpost." There, that was technically true, thesmuggler captain thought, and not likely to freak her out any more than she already was. "Jan-der-thoulm," she repeated phonetically, the name strange in her mouth. Jan-der-thoulm, Jan-der-tholme, she repeated in her mind. "Fed-er-a-tion," she mouthed slowly. Again, familiar.

Very familiar.

Another word floated up from the morasse of her tangled sub-consciousness. "Avatar," she spoke softly, then again: "Avatar," more forcefully. "Avatar."

"Avatar," Tholme repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth. Avatar of what? If she was coming out of Hydran space it could mean anything. Avatar of one of the myriad and complicated Hydran gods, goddesses, and pantheons? Avatar could be a computer thing. Avatar could be an intelligence code--spooks often used self-aggrandizing names like that. "What is Avatar?"

Slowly, her head rolled back, the physical and mental strain of the interview finally catching up to her battered body. She exhaled slowly, closing the good eye, her undamaged antenna bobbing slowly.

"Avatar." she repeated, to Tholme's frustration. "Me...Avatar," though it had sounded more like a question rather a declaration.

"You're the Avatar?" Tholme replied, perhaps a bit too incredulously. Right now she looked more like a frightened housecat. Of course, given her earlier rage, maybe "Hellcat" was more appropriate. She's the Avatar. Well, that supports the Intel theory. He pointed at her. "Avatar." Then he pointed at himself: "On this ship, God."

Reaching over, he thumbed the release mechanism and the cloth bindings slipped away, retracting into the bed. "Saeihr says you're ready to move around again. I'll send Zhenia to show you around and fix you up in the guest quarters. There's clothes there," he said, pointing to a closet, "In there."

The shen rolled her head to the side, tracking Tholme's finger to where a small stowage hung open with fresh clothing inside. She sighed, closed her eye--antennas falling limp. Slowly, her breathing began to shallow, becoming a more deliberate cadence. In. Out. In... out. In...

Keeping his wary eyes on her, Tholme frowned. Had she worn herself out? She did have a lot of healing to do. He considered leaving, but decided against it, watching the young shen sleep for a moment. 'What am I going to do with an amnesiac Andorian who is obviously dangerous?' he wondered.

Sure, she looked peaceful now, but he'd watched her fight Saeihr andZhenia. Peace wasn't going to last. What, indeed, was he going to do?

He was completely lost in thought a moment later, when he caught the first twitch of movement out of the corner of his eye. Tholme leapt for the gun he had foolishly left on the table, out of reach. He was fast.

But she was faster.

By the time Jander's mind had registered it, she had moved from lying still on the table to on her feet, as if she had just been beamed there. Free of her bonds and seemingly oblivious to the pain of her injuries, she lashed out, catching Tholme's hand with her foot and throwing him careening from the stool he'd been seated on.

She dove for the weapon, an old Type-II phaser, the kind of old Starfleet surplus that was still common out in most of the border worlds. Expertly she grasped the pistol's hogued grip, instinctively knowing--not fully understanding--how to flick off the safety and charge its old-fashioned power cells. Tholme, still on the floor, dared not move as the whine of the weapon's particle accellerator ramped up.

"Look, I know you're scared, kid," Tholme said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, tender from where he'd face-planted on the deck --way to go, Jander-- "but you've got to believe that I am your only ticket out of here. You're confused, and you need to let me help you." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and gingerly stood up, keeping eye contact with her and holding his hands out to his sides.

"Just hand me the gun," he said, smiling and pointedly trying not to glance at his phaser. Julianne had told him she'd fixed the program... but she's said that about the UT, too.

She advanced a step, the phaser held tight in her grip. "You will drop me at the nearest Federation outpost and contact...contact..." she paused. Where had that come from? As soon as the moment of clarity had come, it was gone, obvious confusion sweeping across her face. Tholme used the opportunity of the moment to step closer, his outreached hand slowly advancing toward the phaser.

"No!" she shouted, kicking back at him, and pulling the trigger.

To his credit, Tholme didn't flinch, even as his life flashed before his eyes. Sidestepping her kick, he grabbed the barrel of the phaser and twisted, wrenching it from her grasp. As soon as he had it in his hand, he punched her square in her bruised nose, knocking her off balance and giving him enough time to flip the phaser so the business end was pointed at her.

It was only then that Tholme realized that the weapon had not gone off, and that he was still alive.

He exhaled.

He would have to thank Julianne for taking care of the important things first. All of the hand weapons on board were locked into the ship's computer to only respond to Duty Free crew members. And while the old J-Class didn't look like much, the modifications he'd made meant that she had 'it' where 'it' counted.

"Now calm down," he said, finally feeling the confidence that he was projecting. He didn't believe in fate, but if he did, he could believe it was on his side today.

She growled at him in instead, rubbing her nose. She was about to get up again, try at him again, even with the phaser pointed at her. Something deep down was pushing her. She knew she had something important to do; to say. Something important to impart to someone. But who, exactly? She didn't remember. All she knew is that she had to get off of this ship. "I--" she stopped short of the verbal barrage she had been about to release against Tholme. Something had caught her eye--a reflection.

Blue skin. Long, shoulder-length platinum hair. And one eye.

She screamed.

Terror and fright filled choked her voice. Stepping closer, she grabbed the mirrored cabinet with both hands, and in one motion, pulled it straight out of the wall. The shen--Avatar--couldn't believe the monster staring back at her. Was that...her? Subconsciously, she knew it was. But her conscious mind, jumbled as it was, couldn't take it.

"HEY!" Tholme shouted, jumping out of the way of the shattering glass as the cabinet hit the floor. He honestly wasn't sure what to do. Facing down crime lords and Hydran border guards was one thing. They were predictable. 'Predictable' was the one thing this shenya was not. "I was going to tell you about the eye. It's bad, yes. Saeihr says you've got about a 50/50 chance of being able to use it again. She did everything she could."

He backed further away so that she couldn't lunge at his gun again. No sense in tempting fate again, especially when Andorians averaged about twice human strength. Leverage and fancy tricks would only save him for so long.

She looked down, the broken shards of old-fashioned glass cutting into her hands, but she didn't seem to notice, transfixed as she was on the damage done to her face. The whole left side was...gone. A large gash--neatly stitched, now--ran jaggedly from the base of her damaged antenna, straight through the eye socket and back across her cheekbone. Something big and sharp, but...what?

Tholme jumped again as she let go of the cabinet, shards of glassflying everywhere with a tinkling crash. The fullness of her injuries--of her whole situation--finally began dawning on her. As much as she didn't want to be here, didn't trust this pink-skinned alien, she knew she had no choice. Resigned, she sat back down on the edge of the bed, head hung.

Stuffing the phaser back into its holster, Tholme placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Stay here. I'll send Zhenia down to take care of you," he said, looking over the fresh cuts on her hands. Nothing major, but the pain had to be excruciating. "After you've settled, maybe we can talk some more. Maybe something will trigger more of your memories. In the meantime..."

If he had planned to complete that sentence, even he wasn't sure. His wrist communicator, lying abandoned on the ground where it had fallen in her mad scramble for his weapon, was buzzing.

Without turning his back to her, Tholme bent to pick it up and answer the call.

[Hey Tholme, we're picking up Hydran warp signatures inbound to Deep Space Five,] Zhenia told him. [It looks like Mhar'an may have been right about that new offensive. Do you want us to engage the cloaking device?]

"Yeah, cloak us," Tholme replied, perhaps a bit slower than he'd wanted to. If Zhenia's suspicions were right (and they were rarely anything but right) then their situation was about to be...'bad'. "And maintain course. Even if there aren't any supplies waiting at DS5, I want to see this."

[Aye,] the former naval officer replied, and the connection was cut.

Turning back to his unfortunate guest, he shrugged. "Looks like you're going to be with us a while longer."

"Look What We Found..."

Captain Jaal Jaxom - former USS Carthage CO turned Senior Freedom Fighter
Lt. Thyago Carniero - Engineer Extraordinaire
Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin, The Blue & True Chick
Midshipman Aina Mason - Communcations Officer and Junior Freedom Fighter
June M'Kantu - Civilian person turned cyber-hacker
PO3 Victory - "Hellooooo Nurse!"

Jaal blew some breath out of his pursed lips. There was lot to consider and not enough time to analyze all the solutions. There was so much he'd rather be doing at the moment. Suddnely Erastus came to mind. He wondered what she was doing. Did she think he was dead? Had the news gotten out about DS5 being taken over? Was she safe on Jupiter Station?

He quickly put those thoughts aside when Reality stood up and said, 'Ya know, if ya don't live through this you won't have to worry about her anymore.'

The Trill focused again. "All right, here's what I want us to do.... I to figure out how to send the incoming fleet 'real' sensor data while sending false data to the Hydrans... those on the station and those out there," he arm waved to indicate the enemy ships surrounding DS5. "I'm sure we can find a way..."

Jaal was interrupted by a small noise from the back of the cargo area. It was the kind of noise that made everyone stop and stand stock still. Had there been music playing now was the time it would Jaal already had his phaser rifle pointing in the direction where the sound had come from. "Who's ever there come out now with your hands where we can see them."

"Don't shoot!" a voice said, high soprano, shaky with fright, but human. The voice's owner, a diminutive woman of five foot four squeezed out from behind a stack of crates. She wore the uniform of a Starfleet noncom and looked to be no older than twenty. Her delicate face was framed by a shock of long crimson hair that flowed down over her shoulders.

"I'm a Nurse. Don't shoot!" she identified herself, holding her hands up, palms out. As she came into view the gathered personnel could indeed see her teal uniform collar and a Petty Officer Third class rank pin, and two other details about her appearance, which were odd. First, she was wearing glasses, something almost unheard of in this day and age. Second and more fascinating, or unsettling, were her eyes. Intense red, no pupils and they almost seemed to glow.

"Thank the Great Bird, I didn't think anyone else had been able to make it out!" she almost squeaked with joy as she got a good look at the group. She began to move forward to join them, but quickly checked herself as they did not drop the aim of their rifles squarely aimed at her chest.

The Trill's face remained hard, even angry looking. His rifle didn't move. "What are you doing here?" he asked reasonably. There were at least ten other questions he wanted to ask all designed to determine whether or not this was an actual Starfleet member or a cleverly placed spy for the Hydrans.

Aina moved around the new apparition - the teal and red seemed to clash a little, but she couldn't help but admire the hair, she liked the colour. With the woman on the other side of the crates, Aina saw the opened ducting grill which had been behind the crates. Making sure the woman was a safe distance away, Aina moved a couple of crates to be back over the grill. If there was anybody else down there with ideas of good or ill, they would have to wait. One surprise was enough. "Captain, there is a duct here. It appears to head out, can't see if it heads up or down from here."

"I was looking for anyone else who might have made it out." the Nurse answered. "I was part of the triage team assigned to the upper docking area, everyone else in my group was killed when the Hydrans boarded the station. I just barely made it into the jefferies tube system. You have to believe me" She continued. "I am Petty Officer 3rd class Victory. I was a nurse aboard the starship USS Victory, NCC-20557, which was docked at port seven when the attack began. My ship launched to help with the defence, but was destroyed before it could do any good" she explained, her voice almost breaking as she came to the fate of her assigned ship.

When the battle had begun, the Captain had recalled all crew to the starship Victory and had launched as soon as the minimum number of people needed to operate the Excelsior class cruiser had come aboard. Victory herself had arrived moments too late to join her shipmates on their final voyage. The images of the ship pulling away from the docking port, her bow phasers lashing out with fire in a valiant attempt to defense against the overwhelming enemy, the blinding explosion as she tore herself apart in a tremendous explosion as a half dozen Hydran ships beat her into scrap, all were permanently etched into her memory.

She took a step towards the Trill standing before her. "If you think I am a Hydran agent, then go ahead and shoot me. All of my friends and shipmates are dead and if you feel like sending me to join them, so beit" her voice grew sad, the expression on her face showed she was on the verge of tears. "But I am who I say I am!" she took another two steps closer, looking up into the man's eyes, her own red eyes locking with his. Small delicately manufactured components, lenses, focusing rings and tiny semi illuminated markers, arranged in a circle around where her iris's should be, adjusted as she looked into his eyes.

"Please, put the phaser down."

Jaal lowered the rifle but kept his finger on the trigger just in case. He eyed the newcomer carefully truly wondering if she could be trusted or not. His instincts weren't getting any strange vibes but one could never know.

"If I may," June asked quietly, "I'd like to verify something here? If I can, then we can stop aiming weapons and get back to work." She looked at Jaal.

"Fine," Jaal answered with a tight-lipped mouth.

"I'll be careful," June promised. She reached over and picked up a tricorder. "I'm going to scan you, Victory. If you are who you say you are, please turn off any internal systems that would prevent that."

"There is nothing that will block your scans" Victory said as she watched the other woman pick up the Tricorder and start scanning her. She wondered how this person would react to what the results would be.

"Ummmm, I'm really sorry about your ship," started Aina, who couldn't help but feel bad for the woman. She used a finger to wipe away some moisture from her left eye. But another part of her was very curious - and it was that part that had control of her tongue. "Uhhh, excuse me...ah...You and your ship both have the same name?" Talk about coincidence - but with those eyes... maybe it wasn't a coincidence after all.

Victory glanced at Aina, a sense of relief and renewed sadness crossed her face. "I appreciate your feelings" she said, softly. "Yes, we do...did have the same name. I took the name of the ship as my own. The Victory was the first place I know of where I felt I had purpose..friends..a family" she closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself.

When she opened her eyes she looked at June. "Have you finished your scan yet? You will see that I am not human...well not completely. My body is artificial, my brain is human. I am the only one of my kind in Starfleet, and for all I know, in the universe. The USS Victory was my home. It is gone now and I don't want the deaths of my friends and family to go unremembered. I am a Starfleet Nurse. Please, put the phaser down and let me do what I am meant to do."

The tricorder warbled for a moment longer, and June nodded. Calling up the results, she compared them to the mental images diagrams and specifications that she'd seen displayed on screens around a colleagues' office back on Jupiter Station. Sometimes, being gifted with perfect recall was a blessing, but most times June found it to be an irritant. "I expect that she is who she says she is," she offered after a moment. "I saw the initial scans and schematics that were sent to the ASDB for analysis when Victory here was initially requesting entry to Starfleet. These match ? and they are totally alien concepts from any technology used by the Triad forces."

The Trill nodded. "Fine," Jaal answered not quite as tight-lipped as before, "We'll get you to where our medical folks and injured are. Then the rest of us can get back to work."

"A Blast from the Past"

Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin

and Introducing Cadet Artemis Bancroft

***

Returning to the icy confines of the sensor room had not been an activity Sharzhevashi zh'Rin had been looking forward to when the small group of Starfleet personnel left the safety of the lowest levels of the station. But, return she did.

As she climbed through the Jeffries Tube, she wondered if their actions would help. She hoped so, especially if it gave the survivors a chance to get off the station. She was the last in the trail of people as they climbed.

Passing an open alcove, Shi paused thinking she heard something. It sounded like something scraping against the wall. Peering into the darkness, she had visions of a Hydran charging toward her in their heavy armor.

Just before she started to move, she heard it again. It was definitely a scraping sound. Wood against metal. Wood?

With slow, deliberate movements, she edged her way back to the alcove, sliding along on the fabric of the gown she still wore. The access tube turned and Shi followed it, careful of what might be hiding here. She smiled to herself at the memory of Thyago's head popping up into view when she had first met him. Perhaps this was another survivor.

Or perhaps, a Hydran agent like the commander suspected the nurse may be.

As she turned again, the last stretch of crawlspace was nearly pitch black. This was crazy, she told herself. This was the job of security people, or marines.

Without warning, she was suddenly blinded as the lights blazed to life. Eyes snapping shut, she shuffled back, but she could sense the person ahead of her. And then, the sound of a surprised voice.

"Captain?"

Shi blinked rapidly and after a few more seconds, she could see the young woman in front of her. She was a pretty human who wore Operations gold and cadet's pips on her collar. Curly brown hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her eyebrows were arched. She was not fully human. There was some Vulcan blood in her ancestry, if Shi's guess was accurate.

"I am only an ensign," she answered the young woman.

"Oh," the girl replied, edging slightly closer. "But, you are Sharzhevashi zh'Rin?"

One of Shi's eyebrows arched high onto her forehead. "How is it you know that?"

The girl took a moment to answer, chewing on her lip as she deliberated. "A good guess," she finally managed. "I was, uh, going over other personnel I might run into on the station."

"Indeed," Shi answered. Thoughts of Hydran spies whirled through her head. But, this one was barely past childhood. And, that could be a perfect ploy to dispel suspicion. "Your hesitation suggests a lack of complete truth."

"I can't really talk about how I really know who you are," the girl answered. "It's classified. I'll just say if I explained it, I'm sure I'd have Dulmer and Lucsly crawling up my butt despite all the Hydrans around."

Shi frowned. "Dulmer and Lucsly?"

"They're from the Department of Temporal Investigations, and they like asking very probing questions. I'd really rather avoid having to talk to them again, if you know what I mean. I'm Artemis, by the way. Artemis Bancroft. I was supposed to be joining the Carthage here, but there's no more Carthage to join."

"Yes," Shi said with a nod. "I have met some of the former crew. You should come with me."

"Sure," Artemis said. "I hit a Tube as soon as the attack came. They shut off all the phasers too." She indicated the weapon at her waist.

"I believe they work now," Shi said. "Though, maybe I should take that."

Artemis grinned. "I am trained in using it," she said. "Commander Sanak was a great instructor. But, if it makes you feel better." She handed the phaser to Shi, and the Andorian motioned for her to go past.

On hands and knees, the girl climbed past. Shi recognized the device strapped to her back as a guitar. An interesting find in the Jeffries Tube junction corridor to be sure.

Sharzhevashi climbed behind the human cadet wondering what the girl knew. She knows me, she thought. Somehow, she knows me and it has to do with Temporal Investigations.

"Up or down," Artemis asked.

"Down," Shi said. "We shall head to where the others are. You can get food there was well."

"Great," Artemis exclaimed. "I'm starving!"

They had climbed down several decks in silence, but it was broken when Artemis asked, "Is that a tattoo?"

"Please stop looking up my skirt," Shi requested.

"I didn't really mean to, you know. I just looked up, and there you are. I wanted to get one, but my mother wouldn't let me. She has some. Really good ones too."

"It was for one of my bondmates," Shi said.

"It's very pretty," Artemis said.

"Thank you," Shi said. "It is temporary, unfortunately. It will fade completely within the next month."

"You should get it permanent," Artemis said.

Shi smiled. "I believe I will."

When they finally reached the bottom, Shi led the cadet toward where the others were. "You can seek medical help there. Food is just over there. Space has also been set aside for people to stretch out for sleep, but I suspect none of us will be able to sleep before long."

"Why is that," Artemis asked as she looked off in the direction of the food.

"A message has been sent to Starfleet that there are survivors here. We shall be rescued soon."

"Great news!" Artemis called as she started toward the food line, stomach rumbling out a feisty rhythm. "If you don't mind, Sharzhevashi, I'm going to go grab some food."

"I do not mind. And please, call me Shi."

"Diplomatic Strain"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Faylin McAlister
JAG Officer

Ensign John C. Richardson
Diplomatic Officer

Outside, the stars streaked past as the Galaxy rushed toward Deep Space 5. The confinements of the small conference room held a dense air of anticipation and uncertainty. The weight of the inevitable combat seemed to rest on the shoulders of the officer currently sitting alone by the table.

Faylin entered slowly with the help of her cane. Now that she had feeling back into her legs, thanks to that heavily accented quack; Faylin was somewhat back to her overly sarcastic wonderful self. The spinal implants between her fourth and fifth vertebrae would have to remain, perhaps forever, but at least she was not confined to that blasted hoverchair. Cementing a 'I'm really fine' small smile on her face, she nodded to Bental as she came in, took a seat, and plopped her pink leather briefcase up on the table.

Smiling broader as she watched Saul's reaction, Fay spoke. "I'm back...almost."

"Fay! I am glad to see that you're on your feet." Saul replied. After sickbay, he deduced that she would be on sick leave at least for a while. But she insisted on coming to the meeting, and Saul couldn't blame her; If not for the upcoming fight, Burton probably would have tied Saul to the biobed.

He pulled a chair away from the table, making it easier for her to sit.

"Don't bother....." Her eyes flashed angrily before walking away from him and pulling out a chair of her choosing, defiantly sitting in it. Taking a sip of the coffee that patiently waited for her, she sighed, then placed the mug down in front of her. Fay's stare was one of utter frustration. "Let me say my peace before anyone else arrives."

"Richardson will be here soon, Fay. It would be prudent--"

"What you did was reprehensible. You took a situation, one that left me near death, and when I asked you for help, you turned it around and had it benefit you. I should have known you were capable of such deceit, but I would never have thought you would have done it to me." Pausing for a moment before slamming her fists down on the table, Fay raised her voice to epic proportion. "If it wasn't for me....you'd be in some penal colony!! I saved you! And when I asked you to return the favor......you.....took the enemy under your wings....you freaking asshole!!!!"

McAlister paused yet again, gently reaching for the cup as her hands were shaking. Not waiting for any response or reaction from him, she took another small drink. Looking him square in the eyes, she smiled and spoke gently. "Okay, I'm done.....so....how are you? And how is Nara?" Her eyebrow slightly arched as she attempted the small talk.

"You see?" Saul replied, undaunted, "This is why you asked me to handle this. Don't you realize that as Baile's direct superior I have much more control over his fate?"

This particular statement halted Fay in her mental tracks to a point. "In some aspects, I suppose that is true. It's out of my hands.....he'll answer to a higher power someday."

"He will." Saul replied stiffly, "And until then, you will stay out of his way. And do me a favor, Fay, keep your tantr--"

The doors to the conference room opened with a 'swoosh', and John Richardson entered with a very forced smile on his face. He carried two PADDs tucked under his left arm, and he extended his right hand towards the Intelligence Chief. "Lieutenant Bental, good afternoon." Richardson said tersely. He was not too happy with Saul at the moment, thanks to his stunt with Baile. "I've prepared some information for you and Lieutenant McAlister."

John turned to Faylin and nodded politely. "It''s good to see you up and moving again, Lieutenant." John hadn't spoken to McAlister since he ordered Baile arrested after her beating. John had reviewed Starfleet regulations, and as Diplomatic Officer had the authority to order personnel detained if they posed a threat to Diplomatic operations on the ship. While John... stretched the rules a bit with Baile's arrest, he did have the digital evidence to justify his action. Even still, any attempts John made to contact Faylin were unsuccessful, so he stopped trying all together. He figured the just woman needed some space.

John refocused on Bental, and handed him one of the two PADDs. The other was slid across the table to McAlister. "The Liaison Department has prepared a series of political and sociological briefs on our attackers, specificity focusing on social hierarchy and governmental organization. I bulleted the most pertinent facts on the executive summaries on the first page of each brief."

Saul sat back in his chair after leaning forward to shake the hand of the unfamiliar officer. He read the initial report John Richardson dispatched to the department heads, and it didn't look like a job done by an inexperienced Ensign. He wasn't surprised, then, to see that the Diplomatic officer appeared to be in his late thirties. It still didn't sit well with his junior rank, though.

Being polite, he idly browsed the PADD a little, giving Faylin a chance to read the first few paragraphs before speaking up.

"I think we'll have to work out a division of responsibilities during this conflict. My own people are compiling similar reports, and I assume 8-Ball Hunter's Xenologists are doing something similar."

Richardson nodded his head absently at Saul before he began speaking.

"Yes, yes, I had the opportunity to take a look at the reports your people were putting together, Mr. Bental - at least the political rundowns. They were...okay." John gave a unimpressed shrug. "But let's be honest, shall we? The work your people do is based on compiling actionable intelligence, and I can certainly respect that. But I'm sorry, even a few good analysts don't stand a chance of compiling the kind of detailed information you'll need to really understand how the enemy works."

That made Saul raise a surprised brow. Granted, a ship-board intelligence department wasn't SFI Research HQ on Earth, but he viewed his men as more than data clerks.

"The job of my people IS to understand how the enemy works."

Richardson paused to take a sip of his coffee and gave Saul a small smile. "Of course it is. You did your graduate thesis on Hydran-Federation Relations, right Lieutenant? I read your paper, by the way. It was very good work. Took some time to put together, I'm sure" John pointed at the PADD in Faylin's hand as he finished his sentence, and found himself feeling agitated. Those briefs contained a weeks worth of work, but Bental and McAlister had spent scarcely 2 minutes reading it over. "Do me favor, will you? Try reading through the entire brief; you might learn something."

John shook his head, and found his pent up frustration getting the better of him. Being the Diplomatic Officer at a time of war was not exactly a rewarding job. John started speaking before his mind could catch up. "Ya know, Mr. Bental, I think you'll find that they don't let amateurs teach at Starfleet Academy, nor do they put a inept child in charge of Diplomatic Relations on a Galaxy-Class starship."

"No one here scorned you." Saul replied sharply. He wasn't going to pull rank on someone twenty years his senior - or anyone else for that matter - but he began to wonder if everyone who belonged to the liaison corps adopted attitude problems. Maybe it was just Faylin's influence, he thought.

Nonetheless, Saul returned to read the brief, as Richardson suggested. Eventually, he put the PADD down on his lap. "Let me ask you a question I asked my team - why do you think the Triad attack when and where they did?"

John sat silently in his chair, mentally scolding himself for loosing his temper. Bental was, by all accounts, a very good officer, and he really didn't deserve he harsh words Richardson threw his way. John tried to force all those thoughts from his mind he answered Saul's question. John cleared his throat and straightened up before answering.

"Frankly, sir, I believe it was a startling moment of opportunity. It's startling because, frankly, getting a coalition to work efficiently in the triad's political atmosphere is similar to pole vaulting over El Capitan on Earth. I think that power has been consolidated into a small leadership group, or perhaps even one dictatorial leader over the entire Triad." John paused and exhaled, a very serious look of concern on his face. "I don't think it was a matter of tactical convenience so much as political necessity. By launching this attack, whomever is in charge is demonstrating their power to the rest of the Triad, and ergo displaying the ability to lead efficiently. It must have been years in the making." Slightly arching both eyebrows, she exchanged even tempered looks with both men during their conversation. The peacocks were defiantly strutting their stuff before her....and if she wasn't so concerned about Saul's earlier attempt at scolding her, Faylin would have thought the whole scene that played out in front of her as humorous. "Confrontation, with the goal of end domination, is never thought of and enacted over night Doctor Richardson. This 'Triad' does have a head to it, as all organized factions do. The key is to not over analyze them.......it is better to prepare for the worst using the information that we have concerning the attack as what they are capable of executing."

Taking a slight sip of her coffee, Fay noticed the pain in her spine flaring up. Popping pain medication, she thought nothing of it and went back to silently reading the information contained on her padd.

"So who is this head?" Saul insisted. He wasn't going the other two to throw wizened declaration into the air and leave it at that. This was not the academia. "Obviously, whoever runs the show would be the best target for diplomatic efforts, which is your job."

John shrugged dramatically. "That's the question of the day, Mr. Bental. To be frank, I would do just about anything to find out exactly who our shot-caller is. I have a feeling it's a member of the Hydran Royal family, if not the Monarch herself. But...I really don't know."

Richardson looked at Fay briefly, and both of their faces betrayed the sense of calm they were trying to display. Not knowing exactly 'who' was leading the opposition was enough to give John chills. How could he, or anyone else for that matter, attempt diplomacy when they didn't know who to talk to or hat their motives were?

John focused his gaze back to Saul, and narrowed his eyes. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry for opening up on you earlier. I won't lie, sir, I'm not happy with you bailing out Lieutenant Baile. But this is war, and as a former Marine myself, I understand how useful it can be to have a member of the Crows out on the battlefield." Richardson paused and shook his head, trying hard not to make eye contact with Fay as he spoke.

"We really need to know who the head, or perhaps more appropriately, heads of the Triad are. Does intelligence have anything in the works, something that Fay and I could lend our talents to? The thought of sitting in an office with no knowledge and no mission scares the hell out of me. I would love to help in any way I can."

Saul pounced on the opportunity.

"Intelligence doesn't know much about the leadership structure within the Triad, except the fact that we don't think one race is dominant over the two others. As for helping, I may have something for you, Doctor - talk to me after the meeting is over."

Richardson nodded to Saul, his eyebrow lifting slightly. He wondered what kind of assignment the Intelligence department would need him for. 'Probably shifting through report or something,' he thought to himself.

"Wonderful....." McAlister muttered as she looked over the report before her. The thought of the all boys club ran rampant in her mind. "Gentleman, I shall dismiss myself. Richardson, perhaps after the Intelligence department is done requesting your services....you might report back to your own department?"

The two men watched Faylin slowly rise and head outside the room. As soon as her slender figure vanished, Saul threw he head back and sighed.

"I hope she doesn't drive you crazy, Doctor."

John lifted a tired smile at Saul. "It's not Faylin that's driving me crazy. Believe it or not, she and I get along well together. I guess it's..." John paused, crow's feet stretching deeply into man's face. "...Lieutenant, I enlisted in the Marine Corps when I was 18 years old, wanting nothing more than to see adventure and serve in combat. I"

John chuckled slightly. "Then, you know, I actually did serve in combat. It's not glamorous or glorious. What scared me more than the Dominion or killing the enemy, though, was just how good I was at it. So I go get a Ph.D, teach kids about why people kill people and how to stop it. I decide to be proactive. I've been on this ship for three and a half weeks, Lieutenant, and I feel like I'd be more useful firing a phaser than writing these darn reports."

John put on a lopsided grin in general Saul's direction, but his eyes were focused elsewhere. "I really am sorry for chewing you out a few minutes ago. I was out of line, and I knew that. Please, tell me what I can do to help out."

"No problems. We're all a little jumpy with what's going on. It doesn't get easier after the first time, does it?"

"Even still," said John, his head shaking, "it was out of line."

"Already forgotten. Now, I'm preparing an off-ship operation which requires someone who can use a phaser, but more than that knows when NOT to use a phaser. If you feel like shooting someone Corgan would love to get volunteers for security patrols during the combat, but if you want to help me get some answers for the questions we just asked, I would gladly add you to the team."

John didn't hesitate to answer. "I'll do whatever you need. How long until we start this operation?"

Saul told him.

"Ok. Then I'll see you at the briefing this afternoon."

"Stardate: 64910.24"

Location: Unknown

Communication commences at 1805 hrs, text only:

Tag (Anonymous User): CITIZEN TRACER

Tag (Tracer): ANON, YOU ARE THREE MINUTES LATE, THAT'S NOT LIKE YOU. I DO HOPE THAT YOU DID NOT ENCOUNTER PROBLEMS?

Tag (Anonymous User): IT IS NO CONCERN OF YOURS. AND YOU DO NOT KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH, IF AT ALL, TO MAKE ANY JUDGMENT WHATSOEVER.

Tag (Tracer): FORGIVE MY INFORMALITY. BUT BASED ON OUR PREVIOUS DISCUSSIONS, YOU HAVE HACKED INTO THIS NETWORK AT PRECISELY 18:02 EVERY TIME.

Tag (Anonymous User): THAT IS IRRELEVANT

<Pause>

Tag (Tracer): WELL THEN, WHAT IS IT THAT I CAN DO FOR YOU TODAY?

Tag (Anonymous User): YOU KNOW FULL WELL WHAT I DESIRE TRACER

<Pause>

Tag (Tracer): PERHAPS I MISUNDERSTOOD. YOU ASKED ME TO LOOK INTO THE 'SORIEN FAMILY MURDERS' AND THAT I DID. I GAVE YOU SEVERAL TRANSCRIPTS DETAILING FAMILIES WITH THE NAME SORIEN THAT HAD BEEN MURDERED OR KILLED, AND STILL TO THIS DAY I HAVE NOT RECEIVED REMUNERATION FOR MY EFFORTS.

Tag (Anonymous User): EFFORTS? CITIZEN TRACER WHEN I SEE THAT YOU HAVE MADE AN EFFORT I WILL GLADLY REIMBURSE YOU FOR YOUR TIME. HOWEVER, REGURGITATING DETAILS OF CASES THAT YOU HAVE NOT EVEN READ YOURSELF DOES NOT DENOTE THAT YOU HAVE APPLIED ANY EFFORT AT ALL.

<Pause>

Tag (Tracer): I SEE

<Pause>

Tag (Tracer): I MUST INFORM YOU BEFORE WE CONTINUE WITH THESE LITTLE ESCAPADES THAT MY RATES HAVE INCREASED

Tag (Anonymous User): SINCE WHEN?

Tag (Tracer): SINCE I HAVE BEEN INVESTIGATING THIS CASE OF YOURS. SEVERAL OF MY ACCESS CODES HAVE BEEN REVOKED AND I HAVE HAD TO PURCHASE NEW ONES. I DOUBT THAT YOU REALIZE HOW COSTLY THAT IS TO DO, NOR HOW DANGEROUS.

<Pause>

Tag (Tracer): I ALSO DOUBT THAT YOU REALIZE THAT THIS CASE HAS BEEN CLASSIFIED, THE RECORDS PURGED AND?

Tag (Anonymous User): YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN CREDITED

Tag (Tracer): YOU SAID THAT LAST TIME.

Tag (Tracer): ANON?

End of transmission.

"Composing the Movements" 'Ancient Melody' Part 1

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik
Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu
CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson
Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

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

It occurred to Saul that regular covert operations usually had a working cycle of six month to two years, the average being a year from conception to execution. It required rigorous training from the operative, careful planning from the Operation directors, and several pairs of sensitive ears and eyes watching out for any intelligence item that could change the mission or even abort it. 'Ancient Melody' was conceived by him and Valentina on the day the Galaxy changed its course toward the fallen station, Deep Space 5. The Triad's assault changed it all. All over the intelligence community, time tables were changed, and careful working habits were abandoned in favor of swift action. Starfleet Intelligence failed to foresee the attack, a failure which already cost many lives on Cardassia, and possibly Corvallis and Deep Space 5. They needed to start fighting back.

Thing hovered toward him. Saul waved it off, sending him to perch over a cabinet in the far side of the chamber. The other seven probably wondered why the Dutchman brought his pet along; they were not going to get an answer.

From his position at the far side of the room, Victor watched the small creature start to float towards him, stop in midair, and retreat back towards the rear wall, hugging the mid line of the room between him and Saul. Animals ? like people - always reacted like that, or they tried to stalk and kill him. Victor was just glad that this one appeared to be less of a predator than some.

Miramon was sat across the room, watching Saul with his usual calm expression, his vivid blue eyes focused on the intelligence officer who doubled up as his friend and semi-sidekick on several missions that they had engaged in since the two of them had been assigned aboard the Galaxy. Sufficed to say, he knew only that he was being drafted back in here in his old capacity as a pilot, since it seemed fairly obvious that there would be little need for a Counselor in the upcoming days. In the aftermath, certainly, but his role aboard ship was otherwise momentarily superfluous. To a certain extent, therefore, he was somewhat grateful to his human friend for dragging him along. For the moment, even though he had considered speaking to either Saul or the others gathered within the room, he knew fully well that he was somewhat out of place here and thus thought it best to keep his mouth shut. For the time being, at any rate.

John Richardson sipped his coffee slowly, his eyes really focused on a PADD on the table. John was reading the beginning passages of Milton's "Paradise Lost"- a bit of light reading. Since the War Began, Richardson had read almost every piece of information or intelligence his brain could hold on the Triad, and was frankly tired of reviewing the uninspired briefs. He hoped a bit of Milton's brilliance would motivate him for the tasks ahead. While John knew only the broad details of 'Ancient Melody' that Bental briefed him on earlier in the day, he hoped his role in the mission would focus more on his ability to analyze intelligence than on his two decades of experience in the Marine Corps.

At the far end of the table, the ship's CAG sat almost motionless looking as ragged as Saul. Stitching the shreds of leftover starfighters and pilots into functioning squadron was clearly taking a toll on the Nassari. Still, Jarajen was far too curious to turn down the CIO's invitation. A grin and a slight nod to Saul confirmed the interest.

Valentina was the last member of the motley crew assembled together. She remained silent, simply observing those she would be depending on for the next several hours, or possibly days.

"One of the prime tools Starfleet Intelligence uses for intelligence collection is the automated listening post." Saul began. "These posts are deployed all over the borders of the Federation, and in many cases beyond these borders. They are unmanned and hidden, and the signals they intercept are relayed to a rear intelligence post such as a Starbase or a planetary outpost." Saul surveyed his small crowd. They were all quiet, and seemed concentrated except for Miramon who could always muster an expression that made Saul feel young and ridiculous.

"Before I continue with the briefing, there's something that you must be aware of. The coordinates of these posts, and in many cases their very existence, are considered top classified information even within the intelligence community. This means that if you are captured, you are expected NOT to disclose this information in any circumstances. I can't stress the importance of keeping this information secret, and being exposed to it is purely voluntary since it puts you in great, permanent risk. If anyone prefers not to take part of this mission because of this, it would be totally understandable if you leave."

This was not said just for protocol. And indeed, one of the men ? an engineer - stood up and headed for the door after receiving an accepting nod from Saul. He remained silent until the door closed behind the engineer, and the eavesdropping countermeasures were reactivated.

Miramon watched as the engineer left, offering a slight smile to the rest of the group, as though fully understanding of the predicament in which they were in. That noted, he wasn't about to back out not, simply because there was the possibility of capture and, of course, torture. After all, he and Saul had once worked in Hydran territory, behind enemy lines, and they'd come out unscathed. As it stood, this surely wouldn't be more dangerous than that?

"Since hanging around you as a rule places me at great, permanent risk, I'll not concern myself too much with the possibility of further exposure." The Bajoran chimed in, his voice and expression somewhat amused, as usual at Saul's expense. The moment of levity passed rapidly enough, though, as the Bajoran switched back to a more serious demeanor, his tone becoming the typically soft, somewhat concerned sound that was typical of him. "But if it comes to that, you can always conceal the co-ordinates while we're en-route."

"True," Victor spoke up. "If there's no need for an individual to know them, then simply don't tell them. I expect that the mission's pilots will need to know, and likely the Mission Commander and the Mission Specialist ? but the rest of us can do without it unless there's some special need for us to have the knowledge."

"Once you're there, you'll inevitably be aware of the coordinates, or at least the star system." Saul explained, "This means the risk doesn't end when the mission is over; you'll be stuck with the knowledge for years to come."

Considering the some of the things he already remembered and would never speak to anyone about, Victor privately doubted that this was going to an issue for him.

"I have a fairly terrible memory, Saul," Miramon noted with a grin. "Knowing me, I'll be stuck with the knowledge just long enough to remember that I had it, before forgetting the whole thing entirely."

"And you're the navigator?" John said with a smile. "God, wait until you see my expertise as the mission's science officer. I couldn't tell a quark from a supernova if it hit me in the face."

The Bajoran raised an eyebrow at that, his expression a mix between astonishment and skepticism. Frankly, he wasn't sure whether the science officer was truly being serious, or simply being playful. Either way, the thought that he was being serious was not doing anything to instill Miramon with a particular sense of confidence regarding the mission. And, not for the first time, he did have to wonder if maybe Saul was way in over his head once again. Perhaps they had assembled as a group merely to provide the Triad with some amusement - a diversionary tactic, if ever there was one. Not that he was 100% sure what his role would be under the circumstances.

"I guarantee, if a supernova hit you in the face, there'd be very little left for the purposes of identification. In fact, were that to happen, I expect you would only exist as disparate quarks. A pity that you would then be in no position to appreciate the difference between the two," he noted dryly.

"If anything ? including an astronomical or sub-atomic phenomenon - hits you in the face," Victor interjected, "then you don't need to worry about it anymore; it's my problem then."

"Umm, gentlemen, I was kidding." John pointed to his red collar. "I'm Galaxy's Diplomatic Officer. I know almost nothing about science, that's why..." John looked around the room to see many blank faces. "Ok, never mind."

"That's why you're coming along as a little bit of security, Ensign." Valentina finally spoke up, drawing attention to herself. "We don't need science along on this trip, but a few extra hands never hurt should things get nasty."

"Before we get any further though," Victor continued, "I think I ought to check and see if there's anyone here that isn't going to be able to tolerate being in close proximity with me for the duration of the mission. You need to be honest, because, no matter what you may think right now, it won't get better over time; it just gets worse - especially if you're trapped in an enclosed area with me. I have no control over what you're feeling, I can't turn this off; it's always there. If so, and if Lt. Bental feels that's a detriment to the mission, I'll bow out and get another officer from Security to go along."

Miramon grinned at Krieghoff, amused at the self-deprecatory sense of humor he was displaying, particularly given the deadpan delivery. Which in itself called for nothing more than a serious response, in his book.

"Should anyone have a problem with you, Lieutenant, I can easily double as the mission's morale officer. As long as my analysis doesn't lead to you being flushed out of an airlock as an aide to improving every one's spirits, I can't see there being any difficulties."

A wolfish grin spread across Jarajen's face. He had heard about Krieghoff's "atmosphere", but disbelieved it as the ramblings of a certain skittish Ferengi pilot. "The Lieutenant's reputation precedes him", he said using the formal Nassari form of speech. "There will be no difficulties from this one, indeed - I am most curious to see the phenomenon. This will not interfere with mission objectives - I'm certain we can agree on this."

"Besides this, we're going to have a big enough shuttle to separate the Lieutenant from anyone who feels... uncomfortable around him." Saul added. He found Krieghoff's effect on others to be very strange, and the explanations he heard sounded more like mythology than an actual reason. Still, there was no denying that even he felt uncomfortable in close vicinity to the German.

"Now, Deep Space 5 was used as a relay station for several listening posts. When it was lost without warning, we effectively lost any contact with those posts. As a result, SFI's ability to gather intelligence on the invading Hydran force was dramatically reduced. The listening posts can't be ordered for afar to transmit their data to a back rear post because that would expose their location. The only way to re-route them and get them back online is manually. Which is where you come in."

And now came the heart of the matter. The reason behind sending this group beyond enemy lines with a tremendous risk.

"If the Hydran invasion force will head toward the heart of the Federation or the Klingon Empire, the station will be located directly between the task force and the Hydran core worlds, which means that it'll pick up invaluable intelligence. This is why SFI put a very high priority on reactivating it."

"Short, Private Conversation"

Jaal Jaxom
Arel Smith

***
DS5

Arel found the Captain at one of the perimeter "posts" they'd set up and bit back a curse. While she respected his decision not to sit back at let other people defend him, it was also fairly exasperating since his safety was one of her chief concerns and Jaal always seemed hell-bent on putting himself in harm's way.

"Eat," She growled, dropping the package into his lap.

"Thanks," he said without looking up from a PADD he was studying. After a moment he took the package Arel gave him and opened it. "You know we got the distress signal sent. We're working on something to confuse the Hydrans further when the re-enforcements arrive. Even if we can't take back the station, we should at least be able to get rescued."

"Good to know," Arel replied. She sat down beside him and began to sharpen one of her knives. For the hundredth time she wished she still had her mek'leth but that had been blown to pieces when the Carthage had been destroyed. At least she had a couple of Hydran guns to play with; there was nothing quite as humiliating as being killed with your own weapon. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking if we don't get out of this alive we'll be dead," the Trill stated profoundly.

Arel grunted.

"I'm really thinking... hoping really... that Starfleet sends more than one or two ships to come and get us. Right now we have no idea how many enemy ships are out there. Right before we left the Carthage there were only two capital ships showing on sensors but that doesn't mean there weren't more on the way." Jaal paused and sighed, "I'm also pissed that our ship got blown up. I'm pissed at the traitor who helped the Hyrdans gain control. I'm pissed at the Hydrans in general. I'm pissed that so many people have died... I am glad that Era is safe though and I wish I could talk to her right now." He swung his head in Arel's direction and looked at her with a smirk of a smile, "Anything else ya wanna know?"

"The plan to confuse these Hydran pthaks," She replied. "I mean, if you're done whining. Sir."

Jaal looked at Arel a moment before answering. He hoped he could keep Smith as XO on his next assignment. "Yeah, I'm done. Sorry about that. Yeah, the plan, I think it will work. At the least it will definitely help."

"Then let's get started, Captain," Arel replied. "I'm sick of eating this crap."

A half-hearted smile appeared on Jaal's face. It was the kind of smile that showed a renewed sense of purpose. "Me too."

" Composing the Movements" 'Ancient Melody' Part 2

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik
Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu
CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson
Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

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

Now, Deep Space 5 was used as a relay station for several listening posts. When it was lost without warning, we effectively lost any contact with those posts. As a result, SFI's ability to gather intelligence on the invading Hydran force was dramatically reduced. The listening posts can't be ordered for afar to transmit their data to a back rear post because that would expose their location. The only way to re-route them and get them back online is manually. Which is where you come in."

Saul ordered the lights to dim even more, and instructed the holo-projector to display the mission dossier. "You will be taking a shuttle and a fighter, carrying state of the art anti-detection equipment, and head for one such listening post. The post is located within an uncolonized Star system just beyond the old Hydran border. If the Hydran invasion force will head toward the heart of the Federation or toward the Klingon Empire, the station will be located just between the task force and the Hydran core worlds, which means that it'll pick up invaluable intelligence. This is why SFI put a very high priority on reactivating it."

He gestured toward Eve. "The senior officer in this mission is Lieutenant Quaaliu, but for all operational purposes the Mission Specialist is in charge of the mission, UNLESS you are being detected or at a moderate risk of being detected. In which case, you are ordered to disengage immediately and the Lieutenant takes control of the mission. We don't want to risk your lives, and I don't want the listening post to be revealed - which would most likely happen if you are detected close to it. Any questions so far?"

Victor waited a moment, and then spoke up again. "Just one, so far: If the Triad forces have occupied DS5, wouldn't they make a point to locate any information regarding intelligence gathering operations as soon as possible?What are the chances they already know about these posts and have their positions?"

Saul, quite surprisingly, smiled. "That's the beauty of the listening posts array. The rear station - DS5 in our case - does not require the coordinates of the listening posts in order to receive their transmissions. I won't go into details, for obvious reasons. Even if the sensitive parts of the computer core weren't wiped out when DS5 was taken over, the only information the Hydrans may find would be subspace frequencies. That isn't a problem, since you will alter the listening post's frequencies as part of the recalibration."

"Disengagement", Quaaliu offered, stressing each syllable of the word. The Nassari had remained silent and still during the briefing, and his deliberate words were clear and precise. "Knowing your space and securing a means of retreat are critical for dogfights... this one must demand the same for this mission. The CAG must know that should the order to retreat be given, it is obeyed without question. The Lieutenant Krieghoff isn't the only one present with a reputation. Should Hydran-maj patrols scan our position, or be likely to ? we leave. Immediately. All must accept this."

Saul shook his head. "And just to make things clear, the decision to disengage is the Lieutenant's, not the mission specialist's or anyone else."

Val and Saul locked eyes. It was quite apparent to those discerning enough that a silent conversation was playing out between the two. Scant seconds after his order was given, the cyborg merely nodded, "Understood, Sir."

Saul took a step toward the corner where Thing was perched. "Valentina - the stage is yours."

She stepped forward as Saul retreated to the back of the room, where Thing was perched. "Gentlemen," she began, meeting every one's eyes. "I am your mission specialist; I'll be directing this mission unless Lieutenant Quaaliu deems it necessary to abort." She nodded to the Nassari, and then continued. "The fighter and runabout are currently being modified under the supervision of Ensign Indrakshi. Our objective is, as previously stated, to travel to the listening post, board it, ascertain its suitability, reprogram its operating parameters, and return to the Galaxy."

With the press of a few buttons, the display changed to show a lump of rock, gently rotating on all three axis. "This is Listening Post Sigma-Pi. Normally unmanned, these posts have provisions for internal life support to facilitate repairs, replacements, and any other activities deemed necessary. There is a single entry point," the port was highlighted in pink. "The interior consists of a small barracks providing habitation for 4 personnel for up to one month, and the Core." The rock was cut away to reveal only the necessary details - the internal dimensions of the two rooms, the former in blue, the latter in red, with the docking port accessing the barracks. "The Core is warded by several security and anti-intrusion systems. Only myself and Ensign Indrakshi will be able to pass through, everyone else will be restricted to the barracks. Once inside the ensign and I will conduct the necessary alterations to the post's operation parameters. Return to the Galaxy will be along a route to be determined after return has been authorized. What are your questions?"

Victor studied the diagram for a moment. It seemed simple enough, but experience had taught him that no mission was as simple as it looked. "How long will the adjustments take? We're at our most vulnerable while in or docked to the station."

"Should be short." Saul stated, "Once the specialist enter the Core, they are working on an accurate time table. There longest period of time within that table is waiting for the verification that the re-routing was actually successful. Again, the system is engineered so that the verification signal will not expose your location. I approximate it all 24 to 36 hours depending on the complications. Of course, if there will be enemy patrols in the area, you'll need to remain hidden until you can leave the hideout undetected."

Victor studied the diagram again. "Do the ships dock externally?I don't see anything resembling a docking bay at this level, and one would think that a pair of ships sitting on the outside of wherever this rock is would be a bit? visible."

"Computer, zoom out one hundred percent."

The image's perspective changed, and it became obvious that the rock where the post was hidden was part of a larger cluster of asteroids. One of them was so big that only half of it was within viewing range .

"There's a depression within this rock that could fit six runabouts, narrowly. Passage from the 'parking lot' to the post could be easily done with EVA suits since there is almost no debris in the area. If anyone comes close they might spot the parked spacecraft, but from the outside it's just a dense asteroid belt full of nothing."

"The EVA suits will also incorporate black-out rigging. Sensor absorbent materials and flat black exteriors with one way visors to minimise visual detection," Valentina continued. "Provided we have no neighbors within the vicinity, transporter use may be possible as this is such a short range. I'm not counting on it, however. Anything else?"

"Camouflage nets," Victor suggested. "No technology, nothing to use power or break down, just simple camouflage nets. Drape them over the ships to break up the outline and obscure them from vision."

"Good idea. If you can find camoflage nets with a chemical composition similar to the surrounding asteroids, I'll approve." Saul responded.

"The Hydran-maj are a most efficient species when it comes to fightercraft", Jarajen observed while glaring at the mission schematic. "Patrol wings would be sweeping the area regularly. What electronic precautions and countermeasures are available to the craft we will be using? This one has seen the state of the main shuttlebay, and re-engineering stealth craft is quite impossible."

A nasty smirk emerged on Saul's face. "You and Miramon will get a personal briefing upon departure. Obviously, the mission wouldn't be authorized if we weren't confident that you could reach the destination unnoticed. Patrols should be sparse since the system has no strategic importance."

The last one was half a lie. In truth, SFI was UNAWARE of any strategic importance for that system. If the Hydrans decide to use it as a forward base of operations for the invasion, or if they otherwise deploy in the region... well, in that case the Lieutenant will just have to abort the mission. There was no point in stating the obvious .

Quattro nodded, seemingly displeased with the answer. "And what of their allies?We are assuming that only the Hydran-maj are in the vicinity - what of the Breen-maj and... T'kith'Kin-maj?" The Nassari pilot seemed to stumble on the pronunciation if the alien words, but shouldered on. "The last is most worrisome - what may fool the sensors of the first two may be ineffective against the third. If Romulus is to be an example, the Triad consolidates its power after a victory."

"True, but the three invasion points - Corvallis, DS5, and of course Cardassia - were assaulted by three homogenous fleets. SFI suspects that it is due to the Triad's leadership model, on which we have little to no information. If those forces intend to converge, I don't think it'll be within a system that is now behind the Hydran lines."

Once again, Saul's gaze passed over the entire team instead of focusing on one officer .

"But to be honest, we just don't know for sure. That is exactly why reactivating the post is so important - to answer these questions, not just for this operation but for the entire defensive and counteroffensive effort. This mission is dangerous. I am going to do everything in my ability to counter the potential dangers, but we just don't know them all. That's how it is."

Victor shrugged. There was only so much that could be planned for before you started to overload yourself; best to keep it simple. "All right then. If anyone has a special armaments request, let me know after the briefing and I'll run the requisitions and see what I can do. I'm planning on a shoulder-fired launcher with a few rounds for anti-fighter use, but that's likely going to be it as far as heavy weapons go since we're going to be running from a fight."

"Just leave me a phaser or a Bajoran disruptor. You can keep the heavy weapons. I prefer something more subtle." Miramon indicated, his facial expression completely impartial, as though they had merely been discussing the weather. He tended to take discussion of combat very seriously, hence the poker face.

The briefing soon ended and the room emptied quickly. Miramon, who caught a glance from Saul earlier, stalled a little and was the last to leave. The Dutchman caught up with him, and placed his hand firmly on his shoulder.

"You don't HAVE to go." Saul said.

"Neither do you," the Bajoran retorted. "But since we both know that's not gonna happen, I'd rather watch your back, and have you watching mine. I mean, come on - I can go with you, or I can stick around here counting stars. I'd rather be counting Hydrans."

"I'm not coming, Miramon." Saul told him. "I was just here for the briefing. I can't leave Raynor in charge when the Galaxy will approach Deep Space 5. There are other people whose back will require watching, though."

The Bajoran rolled his eyes slightly. As usual, there was something his human friend had forgotten to mention. He remained silent, though, simply nodding his acknowledgement of the situation. Sufficed to say, they'd have a good chat about that, if and when the rest of them returned from this particular mission. But in Miramon's opinion, they would be somewhat diminished by the absence of as experienced an officer as Saul. And, besides, he'd not get the opportunity to kick his friend around a little .

Saul looked directly at the door, and a shadow moved. Shyly, the silhouette detached herself from the door frame and approached them .

"Lali is waiting for you to leave so that she could speak with me alone and ask me all the questions she didn't want to ask in front of everybody." Saul told Miramon, while gazing at the Indian Ensign, "So I was going to tell her that since the Galaxy is about to drop out of warp in a spot where the entire Hydran invasion fleet just struck, her chances of survival on the Galaxy aren't good when compared to the mission."

Lali was staring at her feet. "That's an awful thing to say."

Miramon's eyes flickered briefly back over to Saul, his expression darkening in a 'it's a wonder you ever managed to get a date' kind of way. Sufficed to say, he wasn't sure who he felt sorry for the most: the Ensign, having to put up with Bental's odd sense of playfulness, or for Saul, who looked as though he was about to be on the receiving end of a particularly irritated lambasting, the likes of which would probably have him requiring Miramon's services as a counselor in short order .

Really, it was all he could do to simply roll his eyes for the second time and walk away, fairly certain that Saul had managed to drop him once more into the deep end, and wasn't even tagging along, just to add fat to the fire. Not to mention that Krieghoff was. There'd definitely be a reckoning for that.

Saul made a really good effort at an encouraging smile. "Feel any better now?"

"Crackin' Jewels!" Part One

Petty Officer John Malloy, Engineering officer NPC (Written by Chris)
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer

USS Galaxy, Deck 21, Engineering Laboratory, En route to DS5

Three months ago Petty Officer John Malloy had the courtesy to 'dump' his latest problem right into Dhanishtas lap. Like a good little department head she had pledged to help him; however things hadn't been as easy as she had hoped. She recalled the morning he brought the case to her clearly?.

Three months previous, USS Galaxy, Main Engineering

Petty Officer John Malloy trundled his way down the beige carpeted passageways of the USS Galaxy bearing his tiny carefully in his callused hands. The Irish born Engineer had served aboard starship for longer than most of his fellow crewmen had been alive, and during that time he took pride in cultivating a reputation as one of the premier Diagnostic Technicians in the Fleet.

He had to admit though, as much as he hated it, that the little pink- jewel encrusted device he carried had given him more fits over the past few hours than he cared to remember.

When the young Lieutenant from Security had dropped the device on his desk this morning, PO Malloy had given him a stupid look and dismissed it out of hand. "It's an Electronic Organizer." he had grumped, "What the hell do you want me to do with it?"

"Open it." The Lieutenant had asked hopefully.

Eight hours? ten computer diagnostics? and a Level II scan later had left the old Engineer with nothing more than a throbbing headache, and a big fat zero.

~~Time to up the ante~~ Malloy grumbled to himself as he stopped outside the office of the Chief Engineer herself?

As much as he, or any Engineer for that matter, hated to admit defeat, word was aboard the Galaxy that when it came to electronics......... they didn't call her the CHIEF Engineer for nothing.

Swallowing his pride, Malloy reached for the buzzer.

Looking up from the clutter that lined her desk; several padds (though it felt like hundreds) two half drunk cups of coffee that were now cold, several data chips, two tricorders and an open tool kit with its contents spread out in-between everything else, Dhani sighed and minimized the screen on her computer terminal. Smiling stiffly she stood up and dusted herself down, "Enter." she called out flatly as she sat back down.

Stepping inside, the Petty Officer took a moment to scan his surroundings, picking them apart with the practiced eye of a career technician. Taking note of the woman before him, Malloy came to a semblance of attention, and shrugged in defeat.

"PO Malloy from Diagnostics Ma'am," he said. "Chief of Security's compliments and he wondered if we could assist them with a bit of a technical puzzle for us."

Raising her eyebrow in reply Dhani naturally looked the man before her up and down in a quizzical manner, taking in his mannerisms and appearance before nodding for him to proceed with his request.

Pride still stinging, Malloy held out his prize, his big callused hands dwarfing the tiny pink device.

Reaching out Dhani accepted the device from him. Turning the item over in her hands she quickly evaluated it. It was by all accounts an electronic planner. A 'pink' electronic planner. A 'jewel' encrusted pink electronic planner. "This it?" she enquired slightly bemused.

"Well yes ma'am...technically it is an electronic organizer, or at least it looks like one on the outside.....but....." he sighed, "But begging the officers' pardon there's got to be more to it. Point of fact but? but we can't open it."

Dhanishta blinked "Can't open it?" she repeated. ~Why would you want to?~ she looked at the PO suspiciously for a moment contemplating the reasons of why he would want to gain access to what was obviously private property. She scanned him again curiously? ~Nope it's defiantly not his~ she concluded. Standing up slowly studying the device she came round to the front of her desk and lent against it. "Where did it come from?" she asked discarding the planner to the surface of her cluttered desk.

"Yes Ma'am? um seems like Security took this off a crewman they had down in holding area? uh? Allison something-or-other. Well they couldn't open it either so they send's it to me like." Malloy turned the tiny planner in his hands, the pink jewels winking in the office lights. "Now normally who'd care about what some dumb crewman kept in a plastic toy right?"

Dhanishta nodded in agreement. Folding her arms across her chest she noted how he cradled the offending item in his hands. It almost looked like he had an affection towards it, though Dhani knew better than that. He was reluctant to give up a task that he was assigned. An admirable trait, she thought regarding him as he continued.

"Well? ma'am, at first I didn't care either...until I couldn't open it? so I tries harder? and I can't open it? so I tries harder and harder."

Dhanishta raised a hand, "I get the point Malloy." she said gently.

He sighed, "Ma'am I don't cares what's inside, but damnit the fact I can't get in is killing me. I've scanned this thing ten ways from Sunday? code algorithms, random variable locators? I even gots me a Mil-spec Code picker? now mind you they are not entirely legal, but it's for like official business only? Well, the Damn Code Picker can't even get in."

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow at that, "Really?" she mumbled softly. Taking the planer back from him she regarded it with a renewed curiosity. "A Mil-spec Code picker," she gave him a serious look, almost chiding him with her raised brow, "and even that didn't work?" she finished.

Tapping her thumb against the device she returned to her seat, "What's so special about this planner?" she asked pensively pulling her chair out she stood and faced him, "What does Security want with Allison 'something-or-other's' organizer?"

"Well what I do know is other than having a nasty lock on it, there's nothing else special about it. Minimal power capacity? no hidden devices or explosives? normal I/O ports and recording attachments? other than that?" he threw up his hands. "It's all yours. Whad'ya think ma'am? Think you can make something of it?"

Dhanishta thought for a moment. "So you have tried code algorithms, random variable locators and an 'illegal' Mil-spec Code picker and still haven't managed to crack it." ~What the hell do you expect me to do with it?~ she asked silently.

"I can't deny the challenge is appealing." she admitted as she sat down in her chair still holding the planner she turned it over once more, ~All this fuss over an organizer? I'd understand if she was a suspect in a murder investigation?~ "Tell me, what exactly did 'Allison' do?" she enquired intrigued.

"What did she do?" Malloy frowned and consulted the work order, "uh....sez here something about throwing a plateful of spaghetti at a superior officer? heh? attagirl Allison? er begging the Lieutenant's pardon."

That confused her even more. "Has anyone bothered to ask her for the combination?" ~Cause that would be the first thing I'd do. Save all this bother!~

The technician shrugged. That was an obvious move but it had yielded little results. "Aye.... the little lady was disinclined to acquiesce to our request... er.... she stuck her tongue out at me when I asked."

"Of course!" Dhani muttered. Looking back down at the 'crap' on her desk she sighed in resignation. "Leave it with me and I'll see what I can do." Opening a draw she dropped the planner into it and locked it.

Malloy didn't move, staring pointedly at the locked drawer.

At his hesitation to leave she smiled at him, understanding his reluctance, "Don't think of it as giving up." she encourage, "Asking for help does not indicate defeat. We'll crack this. Meet me in the Diagnostics lab in the morning; oh six-hundred and we'll see what a fresh pair of eyes can do. Dismissed." she added with a crisp nod, she had a lot of work to get back to before she could even realistically think about committing her time to this project, however the commitment was already pledged, she just hoped that it wouldn't eat into too much of her time.

Snapping a frustrated salute, the technician trudged out.....it had been a long frustrating day for the man.

~The real question though,~ Dhani thought as he left, ~was why exactly Allison something-or-other would have such a complex lock on her electronic organizer.~ Frowning Dhani leaned down and opened the draw, nestled inside the darkness the jewels on the planner twinkled mockingly up at her in the glow from the overhead lights. "What exactly are you hiding 'Allison'?" she questioned aloud in the silence of her office.

"Against the Grain" Part One

1st Lieutenant Branwen London SFMC Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Chandrakala Eshe Engineering officer

USS Galaxy, Deck 8, Crew Quarters, En route to DS5

They had been back from their "holiday" for a bit now, and Branwen had not seen much of Dhani or Kimberly except for the one dinner. She was dreading having to see Kimberly professionally, but something in the back of her mind was still worried about her other friend. So she decided to search Dhani out, one day after her shift. Reaching the other woman's quarters, she hit the chime hoping Dhani would be home.

It was a few minutes before anyone answered. The door parted to reveal a darkened room and a half dressed Kala. Rubbing her eyes and groping for her dressing-gown she stifled a yawn as she reached back to try yet again to insert her arm into the sleeve. Stumbling slightly in her oversized slippers she looked up and flashed a half smile at the visitor. "Can I help you?" she inquired rubbing sleep dust from her eyes.

"Sorry, were you asleep?" Branwen said. "I can come back later, I just wanted to chat."

Still half asleep Kala shrugged, "Chat away." she stated simply, "It's about time I got up any way." Turning round she stumbled towards the replicator while requesting the lowest light setting available. Kala was never really awake until she had a cup of Raktajino. With a beverage in hand, totally forgetting to offer one to the unexpected arrival, she padded over to the couch and sunk into the cushions cradling her coffee in her hands. Looking up expectedly at her guest she raised an eyebrow over her steaming mug.

"It's just that I am still worried about you, you know." Bran said still not recognizing she was not talking to her friend. "Some things you said during dinner the other day. Some things that happened when we were on leave. I would feel so much more comfortable if you talked to someone. Doesn't have to be me, just someone." She sat down on the couch.

Kala just blinked over her coffee, and then stared into it. ~Am I dreaming?~ she wondered silently. Frowning she placed her mug on the small table in front of her and turned fully towards her guest.

"Er?" she began thinking how best to proceed, "I think you have me mistaken for someone else." she stated calmly not wanting to embarrass the other woman too much.

Bran blinked and started to say something then she looked again. "You are not Dhani are you?" she finally managed to get out.

Kala openly laughed. "Lights!" she instructed. Smiling brightly at her guest she fluffed her crimson hair as the illumination increased and giggled, "What gave me away?" she asked, her bright green eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I guess it must be the hair." Bran laughed as well. "Are you her sister? I didn't know she had a sister and here as well."

"Guilty as charged, on both accounts." Kala smiled. Now that misunderstanding was cleared up she was curious about the nature of the chat this woman had intended to have with her sister. Perhaps she should have played along and found out, the virtue of hind sight. Had the woman not caught her seconds after waking she would have had the audacity to try and pull the wool over her eyes, but never-mind.

"Well then, if you're after Nish, I'd suggest you try Main Engineering. She has been pulling over time for the last few weeks. With the ship at a constant speed, above recommended levels it's a bit stressful down there."

"I can imagine, but I can't pull her off duty right now." Bran said. "Do you know when she will be home and rested? By the way what is your name, I am Bran, a friend of your sisters."

Kala pulled a face of sudden realization, "Sorry, I'm such a bad host." she professed shaking her head, "I'm Kala. Did you want a drink or anything?" She asked standing up and shuffling towards the replicator.

"Why not." Bran said. "I have nothing planned for tonight. Unless you want to get back to bed. I don't want to keep you."

"I gotta work in a few hours." Kala replied as she looked over the breakfast menu. There was something inherently odd about eating breakfast in the evening. She shook the observation from her mind and turned towards Bran. "Fancy eating out?" she enquired.

"Sure." Bran said. "I haven't had dinner yet. Any ideas?"

Kala shrugged, "I always follow my nose." she replied with a wry smile. "Gimmie ten and I'll be with ya." she said disappearing off into the bedroom. "If you know anywhere good just say so. I ain't really explored since I came aboard." Her disembodied voice called out through the door.

"Ten forward is basically it." Bran said. "The food isn't bad and it usually isn't too crowded in the evening."

Kala's laugh echoed through the quarters. "Ya know I would suggest that you drop in on Nish, but lately she has been a little?" her muffled voice trailed off as she dressed herself.

"off." Kala finished reappearing in the doorway. She flashed Branwen a peeved look that was obviously directly linked to the topic of conversation rather than Bran. For a moment she was silent as she gauged Branwens reaction to her comment.

"Off how?" Bran asked interested.

Kala shrugged a look of concern washing over her face. She shouldn't be talking about Nishta like this, it was unfair. She shook her head. "Hormones probably." she replied offhandedly as she grabbed her duty jacket off the back of a chair, "Maybe it's just me that's noticed it. Being twins makes you prone to worrying about the smallest of things. Blowing them out of all proportions, ya know?" slipping her jacket on she motioned to the door.

"Hey wait a minute." Bran said. "Besides being her friend I am a psychologist. And I came here today because I am worried, so you are not the only one."

Kala froze up. It was a few seconds before she let out a shallow breath. "It's good to know." she said flatly. For a moment she contemplated what she was about to do. Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she thought about what had happed on Vulcan. She was not so surprised that Nishta was angry with her, avoiding her, ignoring her. Her gaze descended to the floor with shame.

~Anchored in a Stream~

Cutter Kara'nin

Some have said that one goes through life knowing only around five hundred people. No matter where you go, or how hard you try to escape them, there is always one of those five hundred people within a very short distance of you. And if you were in a crowd gathered in a street, almost certainly, one of those five hundred people would be part of that same crowd.

Cutter was standing in a crowd of people, gathered on the street. But, there was not only one other person in the crowd he knew. He knew everyone. Every face was one that had spoken to him before, every body was one that he had touched or brushed up against. Every one.

And they were all moving, walking down the street like water in a stream.

But he was not.

He stood, facing them as they passed. He was unsure why he was not walking with them. He was unsure why he stood anchored in the center of the mob, yet was not part of it. Perhaps it was because he did not know where they were going.

Suddenly, he reached out and stopped one. A thin face, framed with violet-black hair, faced him, smiling a simple and shallow smile. "Arkedi," Cutter said, recognizing the Fruna'lin, "Where are you going?"

"Forward, of course," Arkedi said.

Cutter frowned. The answer was less than informative. Of course, it was Arkedi who had given it, and Arkedi never really seemed to know what was happening around him. "Why?"

Arkedi shrugged. Then he was jostled by another member of the crowd, pushed forward by the weight of the stream, and then he was gone.

Hoping for better luck, Cutter reached out and stopped another member of the crowd. Another man, a humanoid, with brown hair and tired, but wild eyes, looked at him curiously. He had been humming until Cutter interrupted him. "Curtis," Cutter said, recognizing the Kerelian, "Where are you going?"

"Oh, hey Cutter," Curtis Geluf said, "I'm just moving forward."

"Moving forward where?" Cutter asked.

"Oh, just down the way. I've never been there before," Curtis explained, "What are you doing? Just standing around?"

"I don't--" Cutter started, but like Arkedi before him, Curtis had been shoved along by the crowd.

Why weren't they touching him? Why wasn't he being forced down the street? Even though he didn't know where everyone was going, or why, Cutter began to feel left out and awkward. He wanted to join them in their trek. Yet, when he tried to move his feet forward, he could not. It was as if his shoes had been glued to the pavement.

"Ella," he called out, as the small, mouse-haired woman passed by, "Can you help me?"

She looked at him silently, and raised her hands and shrugged her shoulders. Then she pointed forward down the street and waved goodbye.

Cutter frowned, then turned around. "Virgil Maro?" he asked, surprised, as his eyes met those of the deceased psychiatrist. "Why can't I move?"

"You cannot go with them, Cutter," Virgil said, solemnly.

"Why not?"

"We are all punished for our sins, Cutter. You may not join us," he explained, then turned and continued on his path.

"Wait," Cutter called out after him. He tried to give chase, but he could not move. Everyone he ever knew was here, walking past him, and he was anchored in place.

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

He awoke with a start, jerking upwards in his seat. He looked around, disoriented, unsure where he was. But, after a moment, Cutter realized he was in his office. He had fallen asleep at his desk.

Slowly, he pushed his chair away from the desk. He was breathing heavily, like he had just been sprinting. It was the only sound in the room, and it echoed in his ears like crashing waves.

He had been dreaming.

"Um, Cutter?" Daniel Scarborough said, announcing his sudden presence as he stood in the office doorway.

Delicately, Cutter wiped the seams of his eyes. "Yes?"

"Um, uh, I was, I was just, um, letting you, uh, um, letting you know that the, uh, that the, uh, lab is shut down, and, uh, prepar- um, battle ready," Daniel said.

Cutter sighed. This was twice in as many weeks that they had to shut down all the experiments they were running. The first time was when the ship's gravity had been turned off, by the mad man who attacked him in the hall, when he was being pestered by Saul. It disrupted every experiment that was running at the time. Several days work had to be completely reset. Now, they were heading into battle. This time, they had warning, so only a couple days work would be lost, rather than almost a week's worth.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Um, if, um, if, uh, or when, hopefully, um, when the battle is, uh, is over, then, uh, we'll be able to, um, to, uh, to reset the experiments," Daniel suggested.

"Yes, until something else happens."

Daniel gave a short, awkward laugh, snorting through his nose, and then nodded an awkward nod and left the office.

Cutter sighed once more. It felt like ever since he had returned to the Galaxy, his work had come to a standstill. All he wanted to do was to move forward.

[Previous Week] [Next Week]

"Sensitive Area"

Major Pete Shaw Marine Detachment XO

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Zev Raynor Assistant Chief of Intelligence

"Stardate: 64909.13" File #5

Location: Unknown

"Shut up and wait!"

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign Alexandria "Wych" Goddard Intelligence Officer - Infiltration/Extraction Specialist

<< Starfleet Academy North Lecture Hall -Room 303 >> << Earth - 2380 >>

<< Office of the Dean of Starfleet Academy >>

<< Present Time >> <<Inside Listening Post: Designation - Top Secret >>

"The Avatar" - Part I

Jander Tholme, Master of the Duty Free

with the crew of the Duty Free Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic Julianne Bhune, Engineer "Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and... Unknown Andorian Shen

**** Deep Space, Location Unknown

**** Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

"The Avatar" - Part II

Jander Tholme, Master of the Duty Free

with the crew of the Duty Free Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic Julianne Bhune, Engineer "Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and... Unknown Andorian Shen

**** Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

"Look What We Found..."

"A Blast from the Past"

Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin

and Introducing Cadet Artemis Bancroft

***

"Diplomatic Strain"

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Faylin McAlister JAG Officer

Ensign John C. Richardson Diplomatic Officer

"Stardate: 64910.24"

Location: Unknown

"Composing the Movements" 'Ancient Melody' Part 1

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

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

"Short, Private Conversation"

Jaal Jaxom Arel Smith

*** DS5

" Composing the Movements" 'Ancient Melody' Part 2

Lieutenant Saul Bental Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

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

"Crackin' Jewels!" Part One

Petty Officer John Malloy, Engineering officer NPC (Written by Chris) Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer

***USS Galaxy, Deck 21, Engineering Laboratory, En route to DS5***

***Three months previous, USS Galaxy, Main Engineering***

"Against the Grain" Part One

1st Lieutenant Branwen London SFMC Furies Psychologist Lieutenant Chandrakala Eshe Engineering officer

***USS Galaxy, Deck 8, Crew Quarters, En route to DS5***

~Anchored in a Stream~ Cutter Kara'nin

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

Major Pete Shaw
Marine Detachment XO

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign Alexandria "Wych" Goddard
Intelligence Officer - Infiltration/Extraction Specialist

<< Starfleet Academy North Lecture Hall -Room 303 >>
<< Earth - 2380 >>

<< Present Time >>
<<Inside Listening Post: Designation - Top Secret >>

with the crew of the Duty Free
Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer
Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic
Julianne Bhune, Engineer
"Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and...
Unknown Andorian Shen

****
Deep Space, Location Unknown

****
Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free
Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

with the crew of the Duty Free
Zhenia sh'Thenassi, First Officer
Saeihr S'Caevra, Tactical/Medic
Julianne Bhune, Engineer
"Silent" Dol, Fighter Pilot

and...
Unknown Andorian Shen

****
Medsuite, Independent Freighter Duty Free
Deep Space, Hydran/Federation Border Territory

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant J.G. Faylin McAlister
JAG Officer

Ensign John C. Richardson
Diplomatic Officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik
Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu
CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson
Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

Jaal Jaxom
Arel Smith

***
DS5

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik
Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu
CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Security Second

Lieutenant JG Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer - Technical Operations Mission Specialist

Ensign John C. Richardson
Ph.D. Diplomatic Officer/Mission Security

Petty Officer John Malloy, Engineering officer NPC (Written by Chris)
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer

USS Galaxy, Deck 21, Engineering Laboratory, En route to DS5

Three months previous, USS Galaxy, Main Engineering

1st Lieutenant Branwen London SFMC Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Chandrakala Eshe Engineering officer

USS Galaxy, Deck 8, Crew Quarters, En route to DS5

~Anchored in a Stream~

Cutter Kara'nin