"Arrival"

Lt. JG Ophelia Rodreguez-Zamora
Special Counsel JAG

Lt. Antonio Rodreguez
Security Officer

Location: Tuscany - Five months ago to present day.

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

The veins in her delicate hands had filled with blood forcing them to protrude to epic un natural proportion. Her attempt at sheltering herself from the oncoming blow was useless, for he was so much larger than she was. He liked it that way, she thought absentmindedly as she felt herself attacked from a different position.

It was at times like these, where the young woman sought her inner place of solitude despite the momentous hell that hit her in reality. There was a field of tall wild flowers that appeared to float in the breeze, filling the air with their heavy aroma of spring. They were still there, teasing her to lay down as she felt his plump fingers curl possessively around her upper arm.

She was walking now, amidst all those flowers in her mind as she physically felt herself being hurled against the all too familiar stucco wall of her home. The question now was, would she end up with the wall slammed to the back of her head, or the front? The proverbial thud followed shortly after her question with the answer that inwardly made her shiver. The front. He knew better.....the face left exposed markings.

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

There was a reason he appreciated her long sleeved, long panted uniform. It kept the bruises hidden. Yet, the face and neck were exposed, which meant that she would have to do a hell of a job on the concealer before the start of her next duty shift. Something....that she did well.....or over time knew how to do well with repeated applications.

She was so weak, so weak and delicate and loving. Those three things were her down fall. She'd never leave him, never report him...just for the simple fact that she was weak. So weak and scared that those two things in and of themselves fueled his impassioned beatings of her.

He found any reason to do so. The kitchen wasn't orderly, the floors had a speck of dust on them. Any excuse and he was good to go. It was a ritualistic release of pent up aggression now almost on a daily basis.

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

Everything was in place as she felt herself being thrown to the left. Her plan of escape was in order. Weeks had been spent planning this. The divorce was going to be delivered, her transfer paperwork to the Galaxy was in order, and she was finally going to be free of his torment.

Silence........for a mere second.

"Babe.....I'm off. You know the rules...don't you?"

She nodded against his calloused hands that cupped her around her jawline with strength.

"That's my good girl."

And, here it comes. One last slap for emphasis of his words and her head indistinctly flopped to the side to fulfill his obsession of complete control. Her head kept still in that same position as her ears listened to the heavy footsteps on the front entry to the house. The door closed, the sound of his steps grew distant, and Ophelia permitted herself to open her eyes.......and smile through the pain of a cracked bleeding lip.

"Testing the Tested"

Lt. JG. Faylin McAlister
JAG

Caileb Smith
Crows Commander

Location: Fay's Personal Quarters

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

It was slightly after the hour to which most people went to bed. Except for McAlister, who felt most at ease in the wee hours of morning. It did not amaze her to much degree when she picked up on her console beeping at her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat gingerly down, punched in her access code and wearily said hello to the stranger.

The old familiar logo of the United Federation of Planets vanished from the screen and was replaced by a brief flash of text indicating a secure connection was established and verified. The image of a human male in his mid forties appeared. It was a fairly non-descript face, the kind of face that was forgotten five minutes later. It was a face of someone who had spent a lot of time outside.

The face had a healthy tan which framed in a pair of perceptive and intelligent eyes nicely. "Hello Faye." the man said in a calm and well modulated voice.

"Hello." She questioned him quizzically with her voice. "What can I do for you?"

The smile on his face was pleasant, but not overly so. "I have heard some.. things about you that have caught my interest."

"Oh, I can imagine." She leaned back slightly. "Can I inquire as to your 'bottom line'? I hate beating around the bush with pleasantries...so to speak Sir."

The man seemed more pleased with the reaction than annoyed. "Do you know who I am?" he asked her in a friendly voice. "If you don't it won't hurt my feelings in the slightest.." he chuckled heartily.

"I wouldn't care a damn about your feelings.....and I have my thoughts concerning your identity. However, why don't you tell me who you are?"

The same pleased expression remained on his face, although there was a brief hint of iron will in his eyes. "I'm Caileb Smith, commanding officer of a unit of Delta Platoon, Alpha Company, Second Batallion, First brigade of the Terran Regiment of First Division." he said crisply. "Which all in all probably tells you nothing.. but I think the name "Crows" does."

"Ah.....yes, indeed." She let the hint of a small smile play across her lips. "What are you offering Smith?"

The smile faded and was replaced by a face that had seen far too much and done even more. "You have a set of skills that could be of great use to us.."

"I agree." She sharply stated. "It's ironic really. I had such a desire to kill an acquaintance of ours recently, yet.....I had to adhere to a set of 'rules'. Not to sound cocky or anything Sir, but I need a place where I can stretch my legs."

Smith just nodded. "I hope you do understand that the members of the unit carries out their orders to the letter." he paused for a second to look at the face on his screen. "I give them plenty of freedom as to how they solve the tasks they are charged with. What I say goes.. it is the cornerstone for our success. Second guessing me is.. not good."

"I've been used to answering to a higher power all my life. The orders, I will carry out and the end objective will be met. The more freedom and trust you give me, the more you will grow to appreciate all that I can offer you on a professional level." Fay responded with a hint of darkness in her voice. "Should you need references....." A slight chuckle entered her tone. "Well, I do have references, but....the are all dead."

"Oh I have done my homework, my dear or I wouldn't be talking to you." he said but appreciated the dark humor she seemed to possess.

"And why wouldn't you do your homework." She offered a flirty wink, something else that she is known for. "Just tell me when and where, and I'm yours."

Smith nodded, making a mental note. "How do you feel about resigning from Starfleet then?"

"Starfleet who?" She muttered.

"Excellent.. " he grinned. "There's a storm coming and plenty of work to do before it hits land.." An image appeared on Faye's screen. "Have you ever heard of the Kushenak Conglomerate?"

"In passing." She stated softly. "Care to elaborate now or in person?"

"Now." he decided. "Some of your colleagues to be have made camp near the Tirene Dunes at these coordinates." A set of star coordinates blinked on her screen. "I have sent detailed instructions on how you will get there and how you will contact them. You will retrieve the instructions from Flea's... sorry, Lieutenant Baile's personal logs. I doubt it will prove a challenge."

Her face grew pale as her eyes shifted. "Baile's personal........" A slight, almost demented look cemented itself on her features. "Consider it done." Fay practically cooed.

"There is one more thing I need you to do."

"And that is?"

"Make Baile resign Starfleet."

"What?" She coughed frantically before regaining her composure. "That is going to have to call for my feminine wiles to be activated."

"Consider it a test.. "

"Geesh, I just couldn't have gone and killed someone, I have to recruit.... Okay....done. My resignation will be in immediately."

"Excellent. I will be monitoring your progress... oh.. I would also like your opinion on Baile. The details are a bit... fuzzy."

"Not right in the head, fantastic in bed." She spoke with a grave determination. "Honestly speaking, I would trust him with my life."

"You would?" he sounded genuinely surprised. It had certainly not been an answer he had expected considering the charges he had been brought up for. Charges that had made Smith re-shuffle the timetable to get Baile out of Starfleet sooner than he had originally planned.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? He's an excellent fighter, passionate and devoted. Not so much to Starfleet, but more to the Crows I believe. It should not be that difficult to get him back 'home' where he belongs."

A few seconds passed as he processed Faye's opinion. They needed him. Saar was good, but Baile was.. Baile. Finally he nodded. He knew Baile was fed up with the way Starfleet had handled him and had a fairly good idea what was happening in his mind. "I do think its time that he comes home... just some advice, my dear. When you do meet your new colleagues - try not to ruffle their feathers too much.. it will be.. messy."

"You best give them that message instead of me Smith. I'll see you soon."

"Smith out."

"Against the Grain" Part Two

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

***USS Galaxy, Deck 10, Ten-Forward, En route to DS5***

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.

"Shall we?" she asked after a moments pause, gesturing to the door.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bran said noticing how the other woman reacted. "You are not scared of shrinks are you?

Kala laughed dryly, "No." she replied as they walked down the corridor towards the turbo lift. She smiled pleasantly as a crewman passed, nodding respectfully at whoever it was. Pausing as she reached the lift she turned a smile towards Branwen, "Haven't had much call for them from where I'm from. Shrinks, counselors, psychologists... none of them feature on Klingon vessels." Reaching out she pressed the call button for the lift.

"You served on Klingon vessels?" The marine looked impressed. "That must have been interesting. I would like to do that someday, work with Klingon marines. How long did you serve there?"

Kala frowned as she tried to work out jut how long it had been, "About? erm.." she began to count out the years on her fingers, pausing she stopped and hid her hands behind her back with a slight flush of embarrassment. "Pretty much my whole Starfleet career." she replied stepping into the lift.

"Ten forward." She instructed before continuing, "I was given a field promotion in my third year at the Academy, during the Dominion War. I forget the name of the ship I was training on at the time, it was so long ago. Any-who, the ship was destroyed and we were rescued by the T'Kengra. It was really great," Kala added beaming at the memory, "several close friendsof mine served on the T'Kengra and it was like a family reunion." she looked to Branwen and shrugged.

"We were assigned to the mission 'Operation Return', the chief engineer died in combat and the assistant chief was also injured. It was just me and So'Han, me and him go way back," she told bran with a smirk. "A Starfleet Cadet and a Klingon Bekk left running engineering, they half expected the ship to blow up before we got to the station, in fact so did I! But we pulled her through and that's when I got a field promotion. I was left to bum around DS9 for a bit, instead of going back to the Academy, and when the T'Kengra pulled out I asked if I could join them. They had already launched the exchange program and it was a natural choice really. I had lived on Qono'S since I was 11, left when I was 18 to go to the Academy, I already knew the culture the language?" she shrugged again, "Well that's my life story. What about yours?" she inquired as they walked out of the lift and into Ten-Forward.

"Ah well. I grew up on earth. Left my home when I was about 14 and was raised by my elder sister. She is in the navy. I wanted to join Starfleet as well but I also wanted to be different from her. That is why I chose the marines. I am one of the first marine shrinks and I love the combination." she grinned. "What is it like, serving with your sister?"

Kala rolled her eyes, "Trying, very trying." she replied looking for somewhere to sit. "Over there good?" she asked indicating a table on the other side of the room nearest the window.

"Sure." Bran said and sat down. "That is why I didn't want to take the chance to serve under my sister. I love her to bits you know, but to work with her. I think not." She shuddered. "How did you end up together with her here?"

"Battle of Romulus." Kala replied with a look of distaste. Picking up the menu she thumbed through it. "I heard her." she said distantly as she looked through the items, "She was floating in space, I heard her crying out for help, and so I ? rescued her." ~For the millionth time~ Kala thought begrudgingly.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it." The other woman remarked. "Are your sister and you not close? You are sharing quarters?"

"We're close." Kala replied, "Doesn't mean that we don't argue from time to time." She smiled pleasantly at the other woman, masking her mild aggravation that someone else on this boat wanted to discuss the 'other' Eshe. For a moment her brow furrowed in contemplation as she handed the menu over to her breakfast/dinner companion, if the situation were reversed and Dhanishta found herself on the T'Kengra, in different circumstances than before, would she suffer the same sort of questioning? Her lips pursed as she thought about this. She didn't think that the crew would be as demanding, though anyone that wanted to get to know her better would most likely go to Nishta for information, use one sibling to get closer to the other. After all Dhani and Kala were one and the same, essentially. Kala shrugged inwardly. Looking up at Brans gentle features she could imagine the difficulty she would have at getting to know Dhanishta, especially now that she had changed. It was difficult to get to know her before when she was the epitome of all things Vulcan, but now she had that temper and secretive nature. She nodded with understanding.

"You like Dhanishta don't you?" Kala asked suddenly, "You want to get to know her better?"

"Yes, to both. We recently spent a bit of time together, and we have been friends for a long time. But I realize that I hardly know her, and I have the feeling that she could use friends right now. That nagging feeling that something is off, it just won't leave me alone. And I always try to be there for my friends. Since I hardly have any contact with members of my family, except one sister and one brother, friends are very important to me." She explained to Kala.

Kala nodded, "In that case I'll give you one piece of advice. That conversation you wanted to have with her today?" she gave her a knowing smile, "don't do it." She shook her head gently, "I can tell that you're the sort of person that likes to help people, and not just because it's your profession, it's 'cause you care. That's great, really." Kala told her sincerely sliding her hand across the table to support that, "And telling you not to, is probably like asking you to put a phaser to your head and press the trigger; it seams impossible. But with Nishta? it's just not going to work." She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a small sigh of regret as the waiter came over. Smiling as pleasantly as possible Kala made her order, a simple light breakfast of juice and crackers, and looked to Bran; waiting for her to order before continuing their conversation.

Branwen was silent for a bit. "I hear what you are saying. But what can I do? Doing nothing goes against my nature so badly. Of course I want to what is best for Dhani." She looked at the other woman. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Kala shrugged, "I'm not sure." she admitted with a resigning sigh. "I've tried the 'do nothing' approach, and it's not worked. So I tired the direct approach and just like everyone else I got shot down. Kimberly tired it, Suder tried it, various counselors have tired it. Tria, the medical attending who pronounced her dead tried it?" she gritted her teeth for a moment with frustration, "The direct approach doesn't work. Letting her know that you are there for her is like a red flag to a bull. She mdoesn't..."

Kala fought with herself over what she should and shouldn't tell Branwen. For starters she had just met the woman, and second it felt like a betrayal to Nishta. The things that had been said were between them? She rubbed her eyes and thought for a moment.

"She is in denial." she finally said after a delayed pause. "She doesn't see that everything that happened is having an effect on her." Kala leaned forward in her seat reaching out across the table with some urgency, "You need to understand something," she locked onto Branwens eyes; "she doesn't know how to feel, she doesn't understand it. She never has. When we were kids she was taught by a Vulcan Mindlord to repress emotion. Until she came here, to serve on this ship, she was a carbon copy replica of an A-typical Vulcan. She is dealing with a life times worth of repressed emotions, things that happened like, what?" Kala frowned as she tried to do quick math, "Nine years ago, Chang for instance; she still hasn't dealt with his death!"

"Awwww." Bran said with compassion. "But then it sure sounds like she does need help from friends. But how do we make her see? How do we get her to let us help? I think she is beginning to feel something and it probably scares her half to death."

~Beginning!~ Kala thought ridiculously, ~It's beyond that.~ She shook her head. "I just don't know Branwen." Kala replied. Leaning back in the chair she stared at the table for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheeks. "She told me that she remembered what happened when she died and when she was in a coma?" she trailed off as her own emotions caught her off guard.

"Trade-Off?"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC
Commanding Officer
188th Furies Detachment- USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence
USS Galaxy

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

(Marine CO's Office)

For'kel sat behind his small desk in the relatively small office. It certainly didn't have the lavish security apparatuses of the Tactical or Intelligence departments... but that was typically because the entire area of the ship known as 'Marine Country' was essentially on constant lock-down. Pairs of sentries guarded the entrances and egresses routinely... usually just chatting or playing some kind of time killing game, but when war was on your mind, you tended to conduct yourself a little more professionally.

In either case, the Marines' Tac-Net had been ablaze in reports... But all of them were utterly useless as far as specifics were concerned. The only thing anyone seemed to know for sure was that Corvalis and Deep Space Five were under attack, and it appeared Cardassia had also been struck. The size and disposition of the opposing forces... hell even the specific Operational goals for his unit were complete unknowns. It was never a good thing to not know where you were walking into.

Surprising even more so was that Lieutenant Bental had apparently decided To pay a visit, escorted by a young Bajoran woman who held the apparent rank of Corporal. "Lieutenant Bental to see you, sir."

"Thank you, Shara." For'kel nodded for her to depart, and stood up to greet the Lieutenant. There was no reason not to be diplomatic, ruffled feathers or not. "Care for anything to eat or drink?"

"No thank you, Colonel - not thirsty."

The intelligence chief was wearing a completely black combat jumpsuit, sharply contradicted by the hospital-white backpack on his shoulders and the equally white encasing surrounding his left arm. He looked slightly shaggy, with three-days bristles outlining his jaw. As far as Saul - and his department - were concerned, they were already AT war.

"I am not bringing any fresh intelligence beyond what I already provided Shaw, I'm afraid." Saul spoke, getting right to business. "Instead, I wanted to inform you of something before it reaches you through the regular channels. It's about Lieutenant Baile."

For'kel gestured to the chair across his desk before taking his own. "By all means."

Saul settled down on the seat and placed the backpack on the floor. He then directed his stare at the Colonel.

"Special Operations are going to temporarily withdraw his loan to the marines and move him to intelligence. He is going to be dedicated to reconnaissance and intelligence-gathering operations."

For'kel stared blankly for a minute, anticipating that at any time the actual 'bad news' was going to hit... and the Stagnorian was rather pleasantly surprised when it seemed like Saul had reached the end of his news to share.

"That's it?" Contrary to what Saul had likely suspected, Arvelion actually considered this 'good' news, and a welcomed change from the way things had been going. "When does he leave?"

"Not any time soon." Came the reply, "He will remain on the Galaxy, working with the intelligence department."

For'kel nodded. At least in either case the man would no longer be his problem to deal with. "If you require anything else, I'll presume you will let me know?"

Behind his polite merchant's mask, Saul was quite surprised. Prior to coming here, he carefully prepared his arguments and devised a plan to convince the Colonel that moving Baile to Saul's hands is the best thing to happen to him in his entire career.

Judging from the Colonel's reaction, the Stagonian agreed whole-heartedly with that.

"Of course, Colonel." Saul replied, "I take it that with Baile being locked more often than not, the troops won't notice the difference."

"He's made more than a tolerable amount of mistakes while with this unit, Lieutenant... dating back to Romulus at least, and that's just what 'I' know about." For'kel picked up a PADD, giving it a glance over before returning his attention to Saul again. "How quickly can we replicate those scanning devices you developed for Romulus?"

"Depends on what OPS allocate us, but we have ten prototypes in storage." Saul replied, not thrown off-course by the sudden change in subject "Why do you ask?"

"In the event we do board the station, we might as well take the opportunity to gather what information we can." He wasn't being asked to spy on allies anymore after all, and good intelligence was good intelligence, regardless of how it was collected, For'kel figured.

Saul smirked. "Colonel, you are fool of surprises today. The devices are optimized for planetary-based data collection, but we can replicate some short-range recievers which could intercept communications in the vicinity of the station. Might have Tactical value too - if we could intercept, decipher and process and important message in real-time we could support the troops during the battle. I like it."

"It's part of the job." For'kel said with a slight smirk of his own." Let's hope we can get enough of them created prior to arriving at the station."

"You'll have at least one for each squad, I assure you." Saul replied. "Hope your troop's morale won't freefall due to working with... how did you call us? 'Spooks'?"

"I believe their mentality will be the same as mine... we're glad to provide assistance so long as it 'doesn't' interfere with our primary mission. Our primary mission on Romulus was to work 'with' the Romulans... you can't cultivate the necessary relationships to do that while spying."

Saul resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That argument was getting quite old, and now that the colonel was collaborating and even taking the initiative Saul wasn't going to ruin it by another pointless argument.

He stood up, grabbing the backpack from the floor and throwing the straps over its shoulders.

"I'll send someone over to brief you and your people about installing and using the devices. Please send me a list of marines that you want to equip the device with so that I could run preliminary security clearance over them. And... it's a pleasure doing business with you."

A message in photon bottle

Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin
Cadet Artemis Bancroft
Captain Jaal Jaxom
Midshipman Aina Mason
June M'Kantu

==DS5==

Jaal stood at the window in the "Captain Morgan" pose staring out into the black. Somewhere out there Starfleet ships were rushing in to rescue the survivors of the Hydran take-over of Deep Space Five... and with any luck, rescue the station itself. 'Someone should have been here by now,' he thought anxiously.

"Is something wrong?" June moved up to stand next to Jaal at the viewport, a cup of something hot enough to steam and smelling slightly bitter in one hand. "Besides the obvious, I mean?"

Without looking at her, Jaal answered, "I just thought something would have happened by now. I thought they'd send in some ships to come and get us... On the other hand..." he didn't really want to continue the thought.

"On the other hand?"

Jaal looked to June now, "What if... the war we've been expecting has 'really' started. What if this isn't an isolated attack. What if the Triad have attacked several other targets. Shit, what if we're all that's left?"

June thought about that for a moment. "This isn't an isolated attack," she finally said quietly. "It's too well organized, too well practiced. Besides, no one would try anything like this ? with as few ships as we know they have -unless there was so much going on that Starfleet simply couldn't respond. So yes, the war is here. As for being the only ones left no, that's so unlikely as to be absurd. Even the Borg couldn't manage to eliminate Starfleet so quickly."

"You're right... and okay, that last suggestion was on the extreme side," Jaal admitted, "But still. Ya know?"

"Yes," she agreed, taking a sip of her drink. "Yes, I do."

With the young cadet just behind her, Sharzhevashi zh'Rin approached where the commander stood in conversation with the woman named for one of the months of the Terran calendar. Humans had such strange naming conventions. As least the girl following her had been named after a goddess of ancient Terran mythology.

The Andorian carried a phaser now. With only the flimsy gown in which she fled her quarters upon the Hydran attack, she was forced to keep the weapon in hand. In her wake, Artemis followed, humming a tune Shi did not recognize, but one the half-human cadet claimed originated in the twenty second century.

"Commander," Shi said as he glanced in her direction upon her approach. She glanced out at the empty space beyond. Federation ships should have been there, carrying the hopes and dreams of the survivors. She pulled her attention from the starfield and back to the Trill officer. "Sir, this is Cadet Artemis Bancroft. She had been assigned to your crew, but had arrived on the station only just before the Hydran attack."

The young woman gave him a sheepish smile. The arch of her eyebrows and the point at the tip of an ear visible through the tumble of brown curls gave testament to her Vulcan heritage. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir." Jaal regarded the newcomer critically. There seemed to be a lot cadets running around outside the Academy these days. "Welcome aboard," the Trill replied dryly while wondering why someone with Vulcan heritage would bother to say they were sorry. On the other hand, his MIA wife, Taalis, often displayed emotions. Most likely the cadet had a mixed upbringing. "Sorry I got our ship blown to bits."

Artemis smiled. "Of course, sir," she said. Her speech held a slight accent to it, hints of England by the sound. "Starfleet Academy wasn't sure what to do with me after I aced every exam they threw at me, so they shipped me out for more shipboard experience. I suppose they'll send me back to the Academy after this."

Jaal shrugged, "They might, they might not. It depends on us getting out of here first and on who does the actual rescuing and several other factors. If you did as well as you say they'll keep you in the field. That's where you'll be needed."

"Thank you, sir," Artemis said. She knew she shouldn't let the words bolster her hopes too much, but to stay in the field and remain aboard a starship, that was what she wanted. Of course, she could barely sleep planetside without the subtle vibrations of a starship's engines. Even the station was pretty bad, though she hadn't had any chances to sleep since arriving on DS5.

Sharzhevashi gnawed at her lip as she tried to will ships to appear out in the blackness of space. "You'd think they would have been here by now," she said.

"That depends on what's happening elsewhere," June spoke up. "We know what the Hydrans did to communications and other signals coming from the station as soon as the attack started. If no one received our signal, then they may assume that the station was destroyed in a single, initial blitz. Or it could be that Starfleet is spread too thin trying to deal with other crises arising from the start of the war to spare a ship or fleet to come and try to retake the station. After all, they would most likely assume an assaulting force of a very large size given the fact that the station fell so quickly. In fact" she stopped speaking and stared out the viewport. "Something's happening," she said quietly and pointed, leaving her fingers pressed against the transparisteel of the viewport. "There, fifteen degrees to nadir."

Jaal peered into space. He didn't see it at first. "Turn off the lights," he instructed.

The lights in the room dimmed. Now he saw it. "There," he pointed in the direction June just mentioned. "Someone's started shooting." He put his face to the glass even though he knew it wouldn't do much good. "It looks like Starfleet phasers and Hydran hellbores. Judging from the faintness... I'd say they're still out of transporter range though."

Judging from what he could see, Jaal wasn't getting the task force he thought would get sent. He hoped there was more than one ship... odds seemed against that now. "Send messege down to Maxwell. Tell him to get all the wounded folks together so they're easier to beam out."

From her little bunkhole, watching a relay from the hacked sensor grid system control that the Hydrans had hacked into and that Aina herself had piggybacked her own hacking into the system, she leaned out of the doorway, her weight held by her arms on either side of the door way, "Captain," she yelled out, "I've got something on the sensor grid. Not sure on what..." She looked at the group staring out of the window and heard Jaal's order.

Mumbling, "How come I was the last to know..." to her self, "I was the one on the sensors and I didn't see it." Grumbling, she looked at the position of the battle that was becoming clearer on her sensor control as the over worked system finally was able to make some sense of the signals it was getting. Checking the status of another console, she leaned out of her little area again, "The laser system is ready Captain, the signal is on the edge of where we can transmit. Any farther over, we'd have the station itself in the way. Captain?" Aina called out.

"Shoot the message," Jaal ordered pointing at the cadet. "The sooner they have the information about us, the better."

Aina nodded, she quickly flicked a switch on a console and on the surface of the station, a hastily installed and rickety looking arm from one of the cargo waldos started to turn, taking information from an old navigation system found in one of the scrap piles, it aimed in the direction of all on the station, hoped was a vessel that would rescue the survivors of the attack on the DS5.

As the arm got to it's position, the ungainly looking collection of phaser rifles started firing, the stream of energy flying out into space. In the stream, as a series of modulated energy levels, was the call for help, the call to be rescued and hopefully that little bit of information that would allow the rescue ship to have the advantage over the Hydrans.

Everybody had their fingers crossed that, those on the ship could hear their cry for help.

"There Will Come A Day"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion
188th SFMC Detachment "Furies"
USS Galaxy

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

(Detachment CO's Office)

"Breakout"

Starring (the crew of the USS Galaxy, NCC-70637)...

Captain Daren M'Kantu - Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Commander Tarin Iniara - Executive Officer
Major Peter Shaw - SMFC Battalion Executive Officer
SCPO Renora Loret - Tactical Analyst/Fire Control

Gral'meshketh N'fth'nor - Shipmaster, IHV Light of Vindication
Various NPCs - Crew of the LoV

****
USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Bridge

"Fifty seconds to breakout."

Daren nodded and leaned back in his chair as Tactical sounded off the countdown. Everyone was ready, the civilians were all in the battle shelters, weapons were fully charged and shields raised and reinforced. That alone was enough to tell him that he was fighting a war - if you weren't, then you almost never had all of those things ready and done when the shooting started.

"Forty seconds to breakout."

"Remember that we're not here to fight our way to the station," he cautioned the Bridge crew. "All we're after right now is a look-see to find out what forces they have at the station, and then we're running. We - and Starfleet - need that information to know how best to plan a rescue mission for any survivors or prisoners still aboard DS5."

"Twenty seconds to breakout."

Daren took a breath and nodded to his XO - he'd chosen to not station her in the Battle Bridge this time because she needed experience from this end of the ship, too. He wasn't going to be doing this forever, after all, and teaching his skills to a newer generation was part of the job.

"Ten seconds to breakout."

"Here we go, people," Daren cautioned. "Helm, break hard to zenith as soon as we drop out of warp; they have to know we're coming by now and I don't want them to his with everything they have aimed at us."

"Breakout!"

***

Pete stood at the back of the Bridge watching. He had a fire team there with him along with the rest of his platoon patrolling the first few decks alongside security. He was also there to act as a go between to the rest of the Marines, to make sure the needed information got to them as soon as possible. He looked from side to side nodding to his Marines before facing forward and watching the battle unfold.

***

The world slowed down as the ship slipped out of warp to reveal the full picture in front of them. Several vessels blockading their path with weapons and shields already powered up. 'Damn!' Renora thought to herself. She had hoped they would not have seen them quite so soon.

Still, this was the situation and it was time to deal with it. She felt some small amount of pride in that her projection for the battle was not drastically removed from the current situation, although as anyone knew the key points were in the details. The world returned to full speed as the console beside her flashed the command from the bridge, Renora screamed across the room to the weapon control stations, "FIRE!!"

***

CIC, IHV Light of Vindication

***

"Full scans on the Hydran ships and Deep Space 5," Daren requested calmly as Galaxy shuddered under the impact of the Hydran assault. "Tactical, give me a full spread on the Carrier at Point Eight Three, and then you are in free fire mode unless I say otherwise. Hold the Quantum torpedoes in reserve if you can, we can't replicate those as fast."

Another volley from the Hydrans shook the ship as he glanced over at his XO, who was frowning at the tactical display. "No worries, Number One; Galaxy can handle this for a while yet. We'll get what we came for in a moment, and then we're out of here... for now."

"Sir," a puzzled voice called out from Ops. "The computer says that we're on the receiving end of some sort of analog transmission and the navigational deflectors report that we're being tagged with a... laser beam? They both appear to be modulated to transmit data, and the point of origin for both transmissions appears to be... Deep Space 5"

"Record it all," Daren returned. "We'll sort it out after we leave." He turned to Tactical as another volley from the Hydrans slammed into Galaxy's shields. "Once the shields reach 20 percent, we're done here."

"That would be in one more hit, sir."

"Good enough. Mr. Darkstar, once we take that hit, get us away from here; best speed. We'll need a little time to look at our data and plan our next visit and I don't think that we can do that with our friends outside hanging around."

Darkstar nodded once in acknowledgement, and, as the ship shuddered one last time and Tactical called out, "Shields at 20 percent, sir!" he wheeled Galaxy over to port and powered her into warp.

***

CIC, IHV Light of Vindication

"Ready Up!"

By

Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic
Petty Officer 2nd Class
Triage Officer/Coordinator, Field Hospital, DS5

(Takes place a few minutes after the beginning of "A message in photon bottle")

Field Hospital/Intake Area, Section Q, Lower Decks, DS5

For the first time in days, Max had new hope of getting these people out of here. The runner from Captain Jaxom had just left with Max's response, and he now had to figure out the best way to organize everyone for a quick egress. Ensign Pepper and Lt jg. Huele were already on their way to other chambers on the same deck to round up people that were moved out of the Triage area. Max climbed atop a set of crates and whistled loudly a few times to get everyone's attention. Like a set of dominoes, the hush grew outward as people turned to hear what he had to say.

"Everyone, as I have your attention, I have an announcement to make," he began. He waited until he was sure that everyone was listening. "Everyone needs to be in this bay and this bay only. We need to ensure that we can quickly and efficiently have all of us beamed out of here en masse."

An excited murmur rushed through the crowd like a bad rash, and soon enough the questions were asked:

"We're being rescued?"

"How much longer?"

"I heard that it was the Enterprise!"

"The task force is here?"

"We're saved!"

It was all Max could do to keep the assembly from delving into a complete chaos of speculation and misinformation. "HEY!" he bellowed, which got most of the crowd's attention. There was still some talking, but even that died out. Confident that he got everyone's attention, he continued with his announcement.

"I don't know who's coming or the exact time, only that Captain Jaxom has directed that we are grouped, centralized, and ready to go. That means no wandering off, everyone stays here in a staged location, ready to move." Max motioned for a couple of Security Officers and Marines. He climbed down from the piled crates and spoke in a low tone with them.

"I need a full sweep of the deck, every room checked. No one gets left behind." They all nodded their assent, knowing and understanding Max's last words. As they left, Pepper was helping a few people into the cavernous bay. Huele was already in with her group. Max noticed PO3 Victory doing some quick checks of some of the more sick people still with them.

We're gonna get you guys outta here, Max prayed silently.

"Start of the next forever"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister
JAG

ENS John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Diplomatic Office

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Location: Fay's office

"The id will not stand for a delay in gratification. It always feels the tension of the unfulfilled urge." Sigmund Freud

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

Her eyes held the weariness that expressed doubt of the future. The small crow lines around her eyes had deepened to the point of indifference. She always told herself, that if she ever felt indifferent, it was time for a change. As she glanced around the quieting chaos in her office, Fay sat silently in the chair.

Her crystal mug sat half full of coffee and mocked her from the corner of the desk. That solitary eyebrow raised at the mug. Her time here was short, too short in some opinions, but short none the same. She had felt that calling again, that urge to do things that she was not permitted to do within the realm of Starfleet regulations. Offers had been plentiful as of late, and with the loss of the baby, she felt the need to release some pent up psychotic tension. Which meant one thing....a return to her old stomping grounds around the Universe with her skill and weapons of death near her side.

The faction that contacted her was well established, but it was going to feed the hunger she felt that had not gone away. Why fight what you are? Faylin thought to herself as she stood. Grabbing a picture frame from her desk, she placed it in a box. She turned, noticing the com badge as it sat beside her coffee mug taunting her. Lost in her thoughts and dressed in civilian clothing, she was not aware of his arrival in her office.

------

"Well, this is..."

John's voice trailed off, the sight of Fay packing up her office literally left Galaxy's Diplomatic Officer at a loss for words. Though they had only known little more than a month, Richardson and McAlister had quickly formed a strong friendship based more on mutual respect than commonalities. John had arguably saved her life following a vicious beating from Lieutenant Baile on the Marine Training Holodeck, but the two Liaison Department Officers had hardly spoken since.

Faylin turned slowly around in her chair to face Richardson, their eyes meeting for an uncomfortable moment. Like Faylin, Richardson too was not in a proper uniform. He wore a pair of very-used fatigues, the color faded somewhat from too much time outdoors. Affixed to Richardson's right leg was a tactical holster containing a model 2287 type-II phaser, though the weapon was missing it's unique removable clip. Faylin noticed he wasn't wearing the insignia of a Starfleet Ensign, but rather that of a SFMC Master Sergeant. Doing the math in her head, Faylin realized that John must not have worn the uniform in at least six years.

"Faylin," John started again, his voice quite and empathic, "why are you packing your office? I thought the doctors cleared you to return to duty?"

She raised her head, giving John the full once over with her eyes and silently shook her head back and forth. "You'll find out...."

"Lt. McAlister?" The soft female voice called out with a tone of curiosity to it.

Slowly spinning around on her heel, McAlister met face to face withthe woman and nodded. "Lt. Zamora. Haven't I stated before to call me Fay?"

"Why yes, Sir. However, due to the formality of the situation at hand, I believe that it is best to stay on...professional terms."

Fay nodded. "So be it Lt." Placing the last item into the box, Fay closed it and placed the box on top of another one by the door. "I shall be removed completely from this area in an hour."

"Sir, if I can just say something....off the record."

"Yeah...shoot...."

"I hope you are happy...where ever you are going."

McAlister's worn face softened a little, especially around the eyes. "Ophelia, I don't know if that will ever be possible. But thank you for the sentiment. It's been a while since you've been on board, have you introduced yourself to anyone?"

Her head lowered shyly. "No....I've been preparing myself for my assignment by reading and studying. I don't do well with personal interaction..."

Fay laughed outright, then shook her head. "Get used to it. The Galaxy has some wonderfully complex people on board. It will take time, but they will come to be your best friends....or worst enemies."

"Yes Sir." The brunette stated respectfully.

"Lt. McAlister?" The brawny male appeared in her doorway. "I assume these are your things?"

"Yes.....they are."

"Fine, we will arrange them transported to your quarters in roughly...." He was cut off by the sound and arrival of the blue light as it scooped up McAlister's personal and professional belongings and transported them off to her quarters.

"Well now...someone really wants me out." Fay chuckled to herself.

"Ma'am....I need that." He pointed to her chest, causing McAlister to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh...um...okay." She unclasped her com badge, offering it to the man.

"Lt. Faylin McAlister, we as Starfleet appreciate all you've done for the Fleet. As of this point in time, O four hundred hours, you are no longer considered an officer of Starfleet per your request for discharge. While you are on this vessel, Starfleet regulations still apply until you disembark at your required port of call. Please refrain from contact with other officers while they are on duty. Is that clear?"

"Yes." She responded in a somewhat shocked whisper.

He nodded to Ophelia, closed his fist around what was once Fay's com badge, and spun on his heel leaving with what appeared to be Fay's authority clenched in his mind.

She looked somewhat lost, Zamora thought to herself as she studied the woman she would be replacing. "Sir...I..."

Fay raised her hand, a saddened yet relieved look crossed her features. "It's just Fay now......and I need to introduce you to someone very close to me. This guy...." McAlister placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Is Ensign John Richardson and he's been more to me that just an officer. Should you have any questions while you are getting used to the routine around here, I'm positive he can help you out."

"I........" Ophelia paused, gave a small yet timid glance to Richardson, then looked back at Faylin. "Okay, thank you."

"Good luck with the department...Lt. Zamora." And with that final word of warning and luck, Faylin McAlister; civilian, took a long glance at Richardson before nodding and retreating from the office in haste.

The uncomfortable manner to which she left made Ophelia wonder if there was more involved that just duty with these two officers. Her dark large eyes caught his, looking at him as if she was studying his exposed soul. "Do you......want to go after her?"

"I..." John looked around the room, completely flabbergasted. Had Fay really just resigned? In the middle of a WAR! What in the hell was going on?

"Lieutenant," John started, raising his arms in a slight shrug as he stepped through the doorway "Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Galaxy."

Her head stayed down....her slight muttering of thank you was quietly reserved. Slowly, her index finger raised and pointed towards the door.

John didn't have to to sprint down the corridor to catch up with Faylin. She was walking slowly, as she still had a slight limp. He walked up next to Fay, matching her stride. He took a few moments before he began to speak.

"So, that was a surprise. Faylin, what's going on here?"

"I quit John. I've had another offer."

John's eyebrow lifted slightly. "The kind of offer you're allowed to talk about?"

"Nope." She stated simply.

John shook his head in acknowledgment. "Okay, I..." He glanced down at his chronograph and sighed. "I've gotta get down to the shuttlebay. I should be back soon. We'll talk then, right?"

"Okay." She nodded as she watched his behind walk down the corridor. Fay sighed, perhaps he...... Turning on her heel, she went to plot her plan to win Baile back to the Crows.

"Putting the Plan Together"

Faylin McAlister
Civy

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

Walking into her quarters, she grabbed the two wooden sticks off of the small oak end table and whipped her hair up into a loose, sloppy ponytail. Wincing from the pain at the bottom of her neck, Fay stood still for a moment as her mind fired up all possibilities. Thanks to Vinnie, the black outline on the base of her neck was completed and contrasted greatly against her reddened skin. The small bird with the beady black eyes protected her and assigned her to her new loyalty.

Taking a deep breath, McAlister requested any ZZ Top song to get into her element. She had to, she had a job to do, a new alliance, and a new opportunity. Her right foot tapped rhythmically as her mind attempted to put the plan together.

"Objective One......get to the Crows.......Objective Two......get Baile to the Crows."

She turned, starting to pace lengthwise in the room.

"How?????" Fay whispered. "I need to get to his personal files....."

She paused, her thoughts spat out loud. "How....security...."

Taking a few steps, she placed her bottom in the console and typed in her request.

The small blimp met with frustration. "Damn it. I have no security clearance. How to get it...." Her foot tapped again as her mind ran rampant. "Yes! That's it!"

Standing and walking over to her coffee table, she flipped through the print out of Lt. Zamora's file. As she scanned the information, her eyes stopped short at the divorce degree. Fault: Domestic Violence.

"I'll be damned." Fay muttered. "Lt. Antonio Rodrequez.....security.....where's his clearance level?" Her eyes scanned the information. "Investigator....that's at least has to have a level four clearance. Location.....Tuscany outpost. That'll work..."

Standing, she started to pace again. "I need security clearance to get Baile's file....Smith stated the map is in his file......that will get me to the group....." Her bottom lip felt pinched between her top and bottom teeth as her eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling. "I'm not Starfleet...so I can move around.....Ahhhhhhhh....that's it. Kill two birds with one stone....so to speak."

Reaching over, she took a sip of the red wine she had resting on the coffee table. Her eyes scanned and studied the picture of Lt. Ophelia Zamora. The change would be easy enough....the infiltration would be just as easy. Taking another sip of her wine, a small smile laced her delicate lips for a moment before her face clouded over.

There was a problem though. How to get clearance into his quarters as Ophelia. Her physical appearance was not a problem, but fingerprinting scanners posed a problem. Fay's eyes wondered down to her wine glass, another light smile invaded her features as her mind screamed that the problem was indeed solved.

"Off to visit the new Chief........." McAlister whispered before grabbing a black case and heading out the door.

"Crackin Jewels" Pt 2

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Michael Jamson
Chief of Operations

Ensign Sota
Systems Engineer (Written by Robert S)

Lieutenant (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Ambassador Turan Trelar
Civilian Engineering Trainee

Mr. Michael McDowell
Civilian Engineering Specialist

***~***

*~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.*

***~***

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

Yes, Dhanishta remembered the determination on Malloy's face, the sense of shame he carried with each step he took for having been defeated. She had admired the fact that his pride had not stopped him from asking for her help. It was ironic now that she was feeling that same stinging sensation at having to do the exact thing he had done three months previous.

Standing alone in the diagnostics lab she couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. She was supposed to be a technical wizard. Isn't that was all department heads were supposed to be? She shrugged inwardly. Over the last few months she had felt very isolated from the rest of the department. On an inner level she felt that she had only been promoted because there was no one else. That ate at her confidence. She had barley talked to Nara in months, she was close to Mikey but then that had something to do with the fact that they were sleeping together! It was going to be an interesting day, she decided.

Naranda had been putting her over-achievement hat on again. She had been studying hard, having already aced some exams while on Earth during a short shore leave. She had been spending time with Saia and Saul and working as long as she could without over-over-achieving. Still, she liked to be early, so she was a minute or so early as she walked in and smiled at the chief. She was sad that the EEH had fallen between the cracks and hoped to bring it up again at some point. For now, she figured there were more pressing matters.

Dhanishta nodded at Nara as she entered and smiled. "Lieutenant." she greeted. Checking the crono she pursed her lips, 07:57, everyone else should be arriving any second? now? Dhani looked to the door and her shoulders slumped when nothing happened. Turning round she gathered her padds and began to set the equipment.

Behind the Chief Engineer the door quietly slid open as if it had been waiting for her to turn her back. With no more noise than the door opening Ensign Sota walked in and stood a few cautious feet behind his superior officer. Aware, as everyone in engineering was of her Klingon like ire at times, he announced himself with a soft cough, "Sir, Ensign Sota reporting as ordered." he stated simply as his eyes spotted the offensively colored device on the diagnostic table, raising an eyebrow he returned his gaze to the Chief Engineer, the raised eyebrow; as close as he could come to an expression of disapproval at the aesthetic horror.

Dhanishta smiled, chuckling softly under her breath. She found it highly amusing that a race dedicated to repressing emotion of any sort could convey so much of it through expression alone. "Take a seat Sota, once everyone arrives I will explain all." she told him turning back to her preparations.

Turan arrived just in time, coughing, almost breathless. As much too often during last weeks something kept him from arriving relaxed and much earlier. Nevertheless he again had managed to arrive just in time to avoid a reprimand.

It took Turan several seconds to regain his breath before he stood at attention to report in. At least the Quentite giant planned to do so the moment a small pink object lying on the table caught his. An evil sensation overwhelmed him - curiosity, strong nerve-tearing curiosity - strong enough to keep him from behaving as professional as usual. All Turan was able to do was to stare at the small odd colored padd-like object.

Turning round Dhani raised an eyebrow at Turan, "Trelar?" she said slowly, acknowledging his arrival as well as his lack of etiquette.

There was a voice pinching through the curtain of memories - a vigorous female voice which immediately woke Turan up from his trance. He looked up from the pink gadget.

"Ergh ... sorry Ma'am, there was something reminding me of home. Turan Trelar reporting in for duty"

Dhanishta nodded, making a mental note to talk to him later. The last thing she needed was someone whose attention was not on the job.

Jamson was almost late. He never liked being late, and especially not to formal meetings. He hadn't been in touch with Lieutenant Eshe for quite some time now, except for staff meetings and report exchanges. She invited him to an engineering staff meeting and promised in her message it would be 'challenging' and' interesting', so 'he'd better show up'. Having nothing to lose he cancelled his other appointments and duties and was almost at the diagnostics lab Dhanishta had mentioned.

Entering the lab, Michael sat down quickly after setting his seat straight and his personal padd on one of the tables. Nodding, yet ignoring the other members in the lab, he sighed at Eshe; "So what's so interesting that you have succeeded in luring me into this lab?"

Dhanishta smiled broadly at him, glad that he had been able to make it; several others that she had invited had been otherwise occupied. "You mean that my charm alone wasn't enough?" she joked quietly.

The Operations Chief was about to return the favor when he noticed they weren't alone in the room, so instead of joking around with Eshe, he simply remarked; "Lieutenant? I'm sure your charm could turn entire heads and not just department ones, and might even keep the ship from falling apart, but as for the rest of the vessel, that's my responsibility and charm". He hoped that some omnipotent being was actually guarding the ship, otherwise, with his charm, they were in trouble.

Listening quietly to the 'small talk' that most humanoids seemed to consider an appropriate way to begin a gathering of any sort Sota maintained his impassive and rigid pose on his chair and looked to his superior, "May I ask Ma'am," he interjected politely, "why are we all here?"

For a moment Dhanishta's smile lingered as she turned from Jamson, she had to admit she had a fondness for the Lieutenant. Pushing all other thoughts aside she scanned her padd briefly, mentally checking off everyone that had turned up. Michael still hadn't shown up, that irritated her somewhat but then as he was a civilian there was little she could do to discipline him. She sighed inwardly, realising how it reflected upon her.

"That is a very good question." she said taking a breath and turning to address Sota and the rest of the room. "Security confiscated this item," she picked up the pink planer, held it up for them all to see, "from a crew-member several months ago. As is standard procedure when one is sent to the brig; all items are checked and catalogued." she paused and looked at the object, turning it over in her hands, "This one remains something of a mystery."

Clearing her throat she continued, "By all accounts it is an electronic personal planner. While Starfleet maintain the rights of an individual to their privacy, this item, well?" she placed it down and looked up, "We have not been able to open it. And because we have been unable to open it, Security are concerned as to its contents." She shrugged apologetically, "So we have been asked to crack it."

Nara smiled. She always liked the idea of hacking into systems, but there were few opportunities to do so. She looked forward to it. She looked at the pink planner lustily.

'Good god' was all Jamson could think of. He left all behind and made all this way for a bloody calendar??? He could feel how his blood pressure was rising as his skin color changed a few pigments before returning to its original. What a complete, Irritating and pointless waste of his time. If he didn't know her better, he'd think she was trying to annoy him on purpose. But of course, that wasn't it. He did know Dhanishta, and he knew that if it wasn't important, he wouldn't be here, yet he was still pissed as hell and didn't mind showing it. Passing the palm of his hand against his face, he changed several expressions on his face, from puzzled to extremely mad.

Curious now Sota appraised the pink device with what could almost be described as a new found respect. If security could not open it then it was no longer just a visual disgrace but now a technological curiosity. "What means have been employed to open it?" he asked after a moments thought.

"Anything." Dhanishta said simply to Sota swiftly turning to address the others, "Before you dismiss this as a waste of your time," Dhanishta said casting a glance towards Mike, "please take a moment to review the data before you." Calling up a detail of all the scans, tests, and various techniques they had already tried she transferred the data to the table terminals for them to read.

"As you can see, Petty Officer Malloy ? who was originally assigned to this case, has already run a full scan, standard procedure." she detailed, "From that scan he was able to establish that it is an organizer with a sophisticated encryption code, that won't open."

"He then ran a series of computer diagnostics," she continued pacing, "ten in total, followed by a Level II scan. He tried to interface it with the main computer to gain access, running every standard *and* military decryption routine. He then tried a Mil-spec Code picker." Reciting the list from memory she glanced around the room at their faces, watching the growing confusion and curiosity. She couldn't help but smile slightly.

"In addition to that I have run a quantum imaging scan, the readouts from that are extremely interesting." she noted dryly, "And, as a last resort, I tired to scan it mentally, and let's just say it was the mother of all headaches!" She looked around the room once more.

"I don't think I need to inform you of the seriousness of this. Or the fact that this is highly confidential." she paused, the humor lost from her voice and features, "And I haven't randomly called each of you in here." she informed them expecting them to understand the praise of each of them conveyed through that statement.

"At the end of all of this," she indicated the tests with an aggravated flick of her wrist, "all we know is that this is an organizer with a sophisticated encryption code, that won't open with standard technology, which was in the possession of a Starfleet officer!" her distaste of that fact was clear in her voice and tone, "And we have been ordered to use anything and everything at our disposal to open it."

Nara smiled even wider, a glint in her eye as she looked up to Dhani and repeated, "Anything and everything?" She resisted the urge to giggle with glee.

Dhanishta nodded crisply, "Yes." she replied. Clapping her hands to get everyone's attention she looked at their faces, emotions ranging from confused, intrigued to excited, "Thoughts please people?" she instructed.

"Great?" the operations chief remarked. "This 'planner' has been lying here for over several months without anyone being able to crack it?" Jamson stared at the device, urging to grab it and smash into tiny pieces on one of the walls. "Pink?and deadly"

Dhanishta nodded, eyeing Jamson slightly nervously. She respected him a great deal and the anger and annoyance that she felt coming from him concerned her. "It could well be." She remarked quietly to him.

"Pink and deadly? What's pink and deadly?" Michael McDowell asked curiously as he walked in. He was about 15 minutes late, a fact which he knew Dhani would not be to happy about, but then again...it got rather late last night after that Chess game in Ten Forward.

Dhanishta turned sharply at the sound of his voice. She eyed him for a moment before speaking. "Team up with Nara." she told him flatly, "She will explain what you missed." She shook her head slightly. After their chat not so long ago she had expected him to be working hard to get back into the Fleet and take on that Assistant Chief role. But with his performance of late he could kiss that good bye. "Sota I want you to work with Turan. Right ladies and gents, you have ten minutes, then I want to hear some ideas." she turned back to Jamson, "Can I have a word?" she asked in a no nonsense tone.

"Ethical Quandries"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion - SFMC Commanding Officer Furies Detachment
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

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

For?kel was kind of hesitant when it came to entering sickbay. It wasn?t because he had any particular fear of sickbay, but rather because he was still in many ways very new to the way the Galaxy operated, and it had been his experience that people, especially Starfleet officers, could be ?very? territorial when the chance was given to them. When he was sure there wasn?t anyone he was supposed to ask permission of before entering, he walked into the main room, looking around to see who, if anyone, was on duty.

?Can I help you Sir?? a passing nurse asked as he saw the Marine stood by the door. Though they weren?t exactly swamped with work at the moment the usual comings and goings of sickbay could leave someone stood by the door for a few moments if no one spoke to them.

For?kel gave a warm smile in silent thanks for being recognized. It made asking questions that much easier. ?Yes, please. I?d like to speak with Doctor Burton if she is available??

Nodding to the office that was set a way back the Ensign directed the Colonel, ?Doctor Burton is in her office sir, as far as I?m aware she got no meetings at the moment, lemme check with Nurse Ketharaju,? indicating to another nurse who was nearby the Terran male stepped over and nodded to the office. After a brief quiet chat she looked to the Colonel, ?go on over Sir, Doctor Burton is free.?

?Thank you for your help, ma?am.? For?kel gave one more smile, this time a parting one before carefully making his way over to the doctor?s office. The door wasn?t closed, so it was a matter of stepping beyond the glass partition. ?Good day, Doctor. It?s a pleasure to finally meet you, though one would have wished it under better circumstances.?

?Colonel,? Kimberly greeted him, ?I have to admit, I was expecting to meet you because of one fire fight or another, though not necessarily a fight like our current engagements.? Sliding her PADD?s aside for now she indicated a chair, ?I?m assuming you?re not here for a physical, so have a seat and tell me how I can help??

He smiled, doing precisely that. ?Actually I was wondering if I could help you? The 188th, until we get orders to disembark, will be augmenting security aboard the Galaxy. This means we?ll be posting sentries at various critical points aboard the ship. My question is do you want a team of Marines in sickbay??

Surprised slightly she sat back in her chair and looked at the Colonel for a moment before answering. After her recent experience with the Master Chief and her somewhat non standard approach to recertification she had been giving thought to conflict and sickbay. Yes, she did run her crew through training periodically, but after watching the differences between the two recordings she had to wonder, in a real situation, what would happen?

It was pretty common knowledge aboard that she was a pacifist, and to date in her Starfleet career she?d been fortunate enough not to have faced a situation that had challenged her beliefs. The current situation though was not likely to be one that would be so forgiving. The Master Chief was again correct, in a fight the Marines and Security would have their own jobs to do, if the Colonel though had a squad nearby tasked to sickbay then for now it was a moot question. It didn?t though address the larger issue.

What would happen if it came down to kill or be killed?

All this flashed though her mind in a few seconds, outwardly she paused for a few seconds, and then she nodded. ?Please Colonel, and thank you. If you could spare a team for the main wards on deck twelve and the secondary hull ward on eighteen I?d appreciate it. While I have faith in my teams, if there?s someone nearby in case we do get boarded it?ll mean we can focus on getting patients out of the line of fire and protect them? And, thank you,? she added sincerely. Hopefully there would be no ship board fighting, and goddess willing few casualties. But in the coming months, if the Hydrans continued being belligerent, there might be more times when she might want some jarheads around, but she couldn?t count on it.

For?kel nodded. It was authorization enough, so he considered. ?I?ll see to it sickbay is on the list of response areas then. And I thank you for your time Doctor.?

?Thank you Colonel, let?s just hope it?s not needed.? She replied with heartfelt sincerity.

"Scrounging On The Bottom, Part I"

Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic (PC)
Petty Officer 2nd Class
Triage Officer/Coordinator, DS5 Field Hospital

Victory, Nurse (PC)
Petty Officer 3rd Class

Max was fairly good with ongoing statistics and logistics, and frowned when he looked at his PADD for the umpteenth time. Based on the current figures, they were running out of food, and fast. And that wasn't even counting those that were out doing...well doing the things that would irritate the Hydrans the way mosquitoes can irritate a camper.

He needed to figure out where to find food and fast. But he couldn't pull anyone else away to help him, nor would it be very productive for him to go out alone. It was about then he noticed an apparition at the doorway who got his full attention. She was redheaded, long hair, and the eyes...the eyes were like red hot embers of coal, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. It was official: Max has fallen in love. *A Goth girl, *he thought to himself. Max had a thing for redheads, but goth girls definitely took the cake. He stepped back from his lust for a moment to see that she was wearing the teal of Starfleet Medical. As he approached her, he noticed further that she was a PO2 based on the rank insignia on her collar.

"Hey," greeted Max when he was within speaking distance. "Where'd they dig you up from?"

Victory looked up at the source of the voice that had just spoken to her. Starfleet Petty Officer 2nd class, medical devision, human, male. She must have found the right place. The group of officers she had encountered in the other compartment had let her go, without shooting her, a bonus. "I just got here from the triage center that was in the upper docking ring" she replied to the question. "Took me a while to get here. I had to stick to the Jefferies tubes."

"Well, that's lucky for us down here," Max said nodding. He found her intoxicating. "We're a little short of medical help, and I have another problem: We're running out of food, and I'm gonna need to go hunt for some." Max shook his head and realized that he was being rude. "Forgive me, my name's Max, and I run this little Salle de Sante you see here," he introduced himself as he used his right arm to span the large bay they were in.

"Oh, hello" she smiled a bit and introduced herself. "My name is Victory. Do you want some help looking for supplies?"

"I'd love the company, sure" replied Max. "There are still a couple of decks below that we haven't searched and I'm hoping that we can find another store of rations at the very least."

"There should be plenty of food in the emergency supply storage compartments" Victory replied. "And if the lower decks have not been searched yet, we shouldn't have any trouble finding all we need!"

"Hope you got your walking shoes on. This is a big station," he remarked. As they began making their way down the corridor outside of the bay, Max felt the need to find out all about this young woman as he found her intriguing. "So how long you've been in the fleet," he asked.

"Oh, I joined the Academy in 79" she said, pushing her glasses up to their proper spot on her nose with her right index finger. "I graduated from Nurses school in 81 and was assigned to the USS Victory's medical staff" at that she stopped speaking and sighed. "And served there until all of this mess. The Victory was destroyed when the Hydran's attacked the station"

"Ah, you came in a year after I did," noted Max. "I noticed that you said 'Academy'. I take it you did your basic in San Francisco?" They came across a door that was cracked open, a dim glow observable on the inside. Max forced the door open and used his wristlight to get a good look around. There were some cylinders, transparent aluminum sheets, duranium frames. Looked like a carpentry storage room.

"Yes, I did my basic training at the Academy in San Francisco, then Nurses school at Starfleet Medical" she replied. "It was the most convenient place since I was already on Earth completing courses at the integration school" she shrugged as she peered into the dimly lit compartment.

"Doesn't look like there is any food or medical supplies in there" she said as she cycled her optical sensors through several modes, letting her see an expanded range of the visual and non visual spectrum. "Plenty of raw materials we could use to build up barricades or shelters though" she added.

Max shook his head, dismissing the idea. "If we were planetside, that would be a factor, but barriers wouldn't do a thing against their fusion weapons. I've seen first hand what they do." Shuddering at the very thought, Max fought to repress the screams that have now haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

"We've gotta find food, that's the priority," he continued. Then he winced. "Sorry, that came out sharper than it ever should have been."

"It's okay" Victory replied. "Everyone is going through a very stressful situation right now, I don't blame you for being a bit short" she shrugged and stuffed her hands into her pockets as they continued along the hall.

"Well," he started, changing the subject, "I did my basic at the Great Lakes Facility. Nothing like the northern wind nipping at your ass on a rainy day." That last brought back memories of Basic.

"Hmm, I have never been there" she said "Well, I have not been many places really, not since I came back to Earth though. I wasn't allowed a long leash" she shrugged

Max stopped and gave Victory a hard look. "Allowed?" he asked. "Something I'm missing here? Last I checked, Federation citizens were able to move about of their own free will."

Victory gave Max a questioning look for a moment. "Oh, you don't understand" She said. "My situation is, well, unique. See I was not fully recognized as a Federation citizen until 2381 and well, Starfleet wanted to keep an eye on me for quite some time before letting me out into the general populace.

"I see," Max said, then he was silent for a while, as they moved from storage room to storage room, the results of their search fruitless thus far. Max started to worry. He didn't know how long until help got there, and people wouldn't hold out too long without food, especially the sick and injured. He needed to get his mind off of the subject and decided to pursue finding out more about Petty Officer Victory.

"So where exactly are you from?" he finally asked.

"Hmm?" Victory glanced at Max. "Oh, I'm from Philadelphia originally" she responded. "Though, I don't remember much of anything from before I was twenty, it was such a long time ago and a lot happened since then" she shrugged and peered into a dark storage room, looking into it as if it were bright as day rather than pitch black. Something about her comment was strange. It looked as if she were barely twenty years old as it was.

"I think we may have something in here" she spoke after a moment, stepping into the dark compartment. She looked back at Max, the glowing red markers around the perimeter of her eyes iris's very noticeable and eerie in the darkness. Turning back she walked deeper into the room and began opening crates. "Yes, emergency supplied and rations!" she said cheerfully

"Yeah, but we're not so lucky," Max pointed out the bottom of the packaging. The 'Freshness Tag' had indicated that it was no longer suitable for consumption. "And when those things go bad...well let me put it this way: I wouldn't feed it to my enemy's pet targ." He shrugged. "It's okay, we still have a couple of decks below us to search that are chock full of crap. Let's just hope it's crap we can eat," he added.

"Right" Victory nodded and followed Max out of the storage compartment. "The crew aboard this station must have been getting a little lax to let their supplies expire like that?" she fell into pace next to the 2nd class Petty Officer as they pressed on. They were almost done with this deck, so far no luck at all. But Max seemed hopeful about what might be stored on the remaining decks below.

"So when we make it off of this station," Max offered in conversation, "You plan on staying on the Galaxy if Starfleet assigns you there?" *Please say yes, please say yes, *Max pleaded silently. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He was a grown man, a professional...yet he was pining away at this young woman like a pre-pubescent crush.

"The Galaxy?" she asked. "Thats your ship, isn't it?"

Nodding, Max replied, "It's supposed to be where I was to be posted next. I happened to be here...waiting." He wasn't about to go into *why* he was at DS5 waiting. "My old home was the Miranda. I was transferred off of there some months ago. I've gotta say that it was disconcerting, to say the least. But there are a few people that are from there, too, coming to the Galaxy, so it shouldn't be too bad."

Victory shrugged. "I don't have anywhere else to go now" she said, her expression saddened "My ship is gone, all my friends are... dead" she stopped at a viewport and looked out into the black depths of space, her shoulders slumped. "I guess I should be happy that I didn't make it back in time, otherwise I would be dead too" she stopped talking and began to sob quietly, wrapping her arms about herself and squeezing her eyes shut as she remembered the faces of all of her friends who *had* been on the ship when it had launched to help defend the station. She could see their faces and hear their voices in exact detail...she could also see the memory of the Excelsior class starship for which she was named detonating in a fury of antimatter fueled flames as a Hydran battlecruiser tore the old starship's engineering section open with a massive barrage of torpedoes.

He never liked to see a woman cry, so Max did the only thing that was as natural to him as breathing: He pulled Victory close to him and held her......and noticed that she was rather heavy for someone in her shape and size. Very heavy. "Hey, uh," he started, trying to make his question sound more like an attempt at humor than an insult, "You wear Duranium armor under there, Vic?"

Victory looked up at Max, tears in her very artificial eyes. "No.." she replied between sniffles. The effect was very convincing "My muscular structure is a flexible composite material that acts as sub dermal armor mesh and I do have hardened armor plates built over some key components in my body..." she stopped, realizing what she had just said. She shook visibly and her skin paled. Her glasses fell off as she let go of Max and backed away from him.

She didn't know why, but she was suddenly terrified of how he might react to learning that she was artificial. The thought that she should not be that tried to creep in through the back of her only real component, her brain, was hushed as other terribly thoughts overrode her better judgment. Others had reacted badly to learning she was not a real person. The crew of the Victory had always been there to back her up, support her. But now they were not. She was alone, and though she had the superior physical strength and knowledge to quickly and brutally crush anyone who tried to harm her she was afraid. Not completely that someone might attack her, but that she might fall back into what she had been...before. What she had done before, when she had annihilated those that had created her.She had dedicated herself to a path of peace and harmony, had dedicated herself to becoming a healer rather than a killer. And she was afraid, deathly afraid she might one day slip back.

Max blinked. Then he blinked again. His mind was racing, processing what he had just heard. While this may have taken all of maybe three seconds, it seemed like an eternity passed between them. Then Max bent down, picked up Victory's glasses, and gently placed them back on her.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you told me," he finally said when he looked into her crimson eyes. A soft smile grew on his stress beaten features. "If the urge to suddenly sweep you off your feet arose, I might have hurt myself." Before she could respond he laughed and said, "C'mon, Vic-that's your new and better name by the way-let's get food for the masses."

"S-so you don't have any problems with what I am?" Victory asked as they started off down the corridor once more.

"No," Max answered, a look of mock irritation on his face. "Why should I?" Then the smile returned, and Max winked at her.

She looked visibly relieved. The color had returned to her face and she even smiled. "Thanks" she said and gave him an ever so quick hug before she blushed almost as red as her hair and returned to walking along side him. "I um" she coughed. "I think the access to the next deck down is right over there" she indicated a hatch several meters away.

"Crackin Jewels" Part Three

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Chief Operations officer

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

Dhanishta waited for her staff to break up into their assigned teams before she took Jamson aside. His distaste was evident and she felt slightly guilty for asking him to come here. She could totally sympathise with his point of view, this project did appear to be a waste of time. But over the last few months she had begun to get suspicious. She had to admit that she had dropped the ball somewhat, she hadn't dedicated much time to this project, and now it was coming to crunch time. She didn't have any answers and she was quite aware that no answer was the wrong answer.

"Mike.." she bit her lip, "Sir," she corrected, even though they were the same rank, he did in fact out rank her, having a been a department head longer than she had. She cringed, "I'm sorry about this, I know that it appears to be a waste of time, but I have my orders." She winced apolitically at him, "You have been about more than me and your insight is most appreciated." she told him in an attempt to butter him up.

"Drop the Sir... Eshe" Michael was dissatisfied. "Sweet talking won't help you here." he tried to hide a stupid smile, "I wouldn't have come here if I didn't want to. Do you really believe it's that important?" he raised an eyebrow, "Focusing our time and resources on a tiny pink padd???" Crossing his hands and scratching his chin, he wanted to know what she was thinking. It was important to him to understand what was so important in this padd that called everyone up here.

Dhanishta pursed her lips for a moment. She looked up into his face and decided to level with him, "On first glance, I thought not. When it was brought to my attention I thought it was a waste of time." she paused and looked around the room for a moment. The others were already involved in discussions, she smiled softly at that, knowing that some thought just like Jamson did, yet still they followed the rather bizarre orders and were getting involved.

Taking a step back she felt the table behind her and perched on it, "I admit that I didn't give it the attention it was due, based on my assumption that it was pointless. But then assumption is the mother of all screw ups and I really think I made one here." She looked into his face, assessing his reaction to her words. "We have scanned this planner ten ways from Sunday Mike, and still we have no answer. Here look," she grabbed a padd and thrust it towards him, "check out the results. We have run every decryption code that our database possesses and nothing has worked. This is not normal, this isn't Federation and this could be the biggest security risk ever. Remember O'Shea? She was a Hydran sleeper clone, what if the owner of this is too? We lost a great many people at the battle of Havras Mike, if this has something to do with what's going on now and we don't crack it, we could be in for a world of pain."

"Hydrans?" Jamson mumbled. He's learned of the Hydran clone in form of O'Shea not too long ago. She was a good friend, and he was sorry she's wasn't with them anymore. He regarded Hydrans with some meaningless sense of honor, for their fight to free their worlds, but would gladly rid the galaxy of them. Being natural enemies of the Klingon Empire, he never liked them much though he detested the Lyran race as well.

"Security risk, you say?" Michael looked at Eshe and wondered where was Saul in situation such as this. This matter should be handled by security and intelligence, and not by engineering. But just like other vessels in the fleet, and from past experience, Jamson learned that some issues were always dealt by the wrong individuals, or from his point of view, the 'right' ones.

Dhanishta shrugged, feeling a little over dramatic, "Could be." she let out meekly. It could just be a diary, and if it was then there still would be a world of pain ? except she wouldn't be the one experiencing it, there was a growing list ? but it all connected to Alison something-or-other, and that's where it stopped. She stared at Mike for some time, as if she were watching the cogs in his head turn.

One could think that a padd had nothing to do with the battle of Havras or the fate of the galaxy. But deception was the name of the game, and as history proves, even a useless body with fake documents in a briefcase, sent from a submarine to the shore of France had a major part in determining the outcome of the Terran second world war, so many years ago.

Dhanishta took a breath, "Let's put it this way then," she said a little more commanding, "look at the scans, the tests and all the current methods we have tried in order to crack this thing," she picked up a padd but stopped herself short, Mike wasn't too interested in those. She tossed the padd back to the desk in frustration; she knew all they contained from memory anyway. "you tell me, right now, how a simple organizer, like that one right there, defies logic. Tell me that it doesn't piqu? your curiosity; tell me," she leaned closer to him, "after running this thing through the main computer, trying every decryption code, that's military as well as civilian, why a Galaxy Class Starship main computer cannot access this tiny little widget?! And then tell me why that doesn't raise your eyebrows or arouse your suspicions." Her voice pitched slightly as her own eyebrows rose at him.

"Believe me Dhanishta?" It was a rare occasion when Michael referred to any crew members by their personal names, "When I say that I'm quite strict when it comes to security considerations, but it seems odd that the entire fate of the universe could decided because of a little electronic diary" Sighing, he continued, "Never the less, this case does bring some strange questions that must be answered?mostly after that little speech of yours, which was more than convincing".

Dhanishta smiled, "And believe me," she promised, "if this is a hoax I'll be marching Corgan's ass all the way to Aura Pentha and leaving him there!" She told him bluntly, not in the least bit hiding her aggravation of that possibility.

"I couldn't imagine a better spot to spend your summer vacation" Jamson replied.

Dhanishta permitted herself a brief chuckle at that. "Besides," she added as an after though, a slight smile accenting her lips, "it gives this lot something to keep their minds from the upcoming battle with the Hydran." she said sweeping her hand through the air, turning as she did to face the merry little band. "Anything that keeps them sharp and focused is a good management tool in my book." Dhani said with a brief shrug looking back to Mike with a forced humors smile.

"I couldn't agree more" the operations chief nodded. Indeed, the battle with the Hydrans stole a large portion of his thoughts. It looked as if peace times existed no more. In the past several years, the Federation had no rest from worrying. Its borders and members were threatened time after time by aggressive species from all the quadrants. Many lives were lost, and it was a matter of time before more would perish to meet their maker, families and friends in Sto-vo-kor, the afterlife for the honored day, which a warrior could gain access to and pass the great Kahless the Unforgettable, by dying in a battle fighting great enemies or performing an heroic deed.

Snapping out of his thoughts on Klingon mythology, Michael returned to his usual self by frowning, "I still believe this bloody organizer is nothing more than mere trouble and a waste of our time! But I'll do what I can?"

"Thank you," Dhanishta smiled gratefully placing her hand on Jamson's arm, "I know you will." Her smile lingered as she looked upon her friend and colleague. Over the last few years she had met a verity of people, this one before her she went so far as to call a friend? yet still she knew very little about him, and vice versa. Maybe it was best that way. Though she felt it to be a tragedy. Nodding to him she stepped away and went to join Sota and Turan.

Michael was overwhelmed by the show of confidence he received from Dhanishta. She placed her hand on his arm, gently and actually smiled. He didn't know what to say or how to respond, as he was never good at such things, so he did what he thought was best, and that was to shut the hell up. Not a single movement on his face could be seen. She was indeed a long time friend, though they did not socialize that much, but then again, who did Jamson hang around with? Not many?if there were any. 'Damn planner?' he cried from within, 'Nothing but trouble?'

OOC: This takes place prior to For'kel's last post...and before the heat of everything gets going.

"A New Job"

Colonel For'kel
Corporal Tierney

<Galaxy Corridors>

As the marine walked his mind continued to race. His acute senses were constantly aware. He counted the number of footsteps he heard, the slight deviations in temperature, the lingering smell of a crewman. His mind also focused on his experiences recalling each detail of each waking moment. He reflected as he walked.

Cian?n slowly met the inner circle with whom he would confide. Some were voluntary and others were forced.

The first was the Counselor. The Angosian was not particularly interested in spending time with the Betazoid. Cian?n attempted to press what would normally take years of sympatico to build up in the span of a few moments. The Angosian's perfect memory allowed him to instantly recall the session.

*flashback*

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

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

*end flashback*

Next was Lieutenant Faylin McAlister. Each of their pasts were riddled with extreme darkness. They were tortured souls that each day had to live with blood on their hands. Both were taking it in stride, but internally at times losing battles while continuing to wage an unforgiving war.

Finally was his Colonel. The Angosian never had issues with his superiors. on the contrary he was the perfect soldier - the perfect follower. He would run into battle without hesitation for his own life, often forgetting he was the doctor. He was the one that was supposed to stop the suffering...stop the death. An Angosian probably was not best suited for the work of a sickbay but with his skills Cian?n was ordered into combat medicine. It joined the best of his abilities.

Now he was given a leadership role. It was completely new and completely foreign to him. Cian?n cleared his throat before making his presence known outside the Colonel's office.

For'kel looked up at the chime, and certainly didn't expect to see Cian?n enter when he called on the computer to open it. After all, they'd just fairly recently had a briefing in which everything seemed to be in order. The look in the man's eyes betrayed his thoughts. For'kel wasn't a telepath by any means, but certainly had the experience of having been in Cian?n's seat before, and thus could project what was crossing the Angosian's mind. "It is one thing to be fanatically devoted to your cause with your own life, but quite another to be placed in a position where you must devote more than yourself. Is that what you're thinking?"

There was no way in hell that was EXACTLY was Cian?n was thinking. It was a bit poetic. But For'kel did get the idea of it. "Sir, yes, sir." Cian?n was a proven soldier and a damn good one, but he wasn't prepared to give orders.

Fork the father figure gestured to the chair for Cian?n to take a seat before taking his own. "I've reviewed some of your biographical and service records, Lieutenant. From what I've read you certainly seem to have the tactical capability in terms of understanding and the ability to execute requisite for the task. Why'd you join the Marines?"

Cian?n sat in the chair. "I'm not sure there was much alternative, sir." He realized it didn't come out as he wanted. "I am honored to be a marine and would give my life for anyone on this ship. What I meant to say was, there isn't much else an Angosian soldier can do. I like what I do and I'm good at it, sir."

"Then this clearly isn't a question as to whether or not you have the technical ability to lead." For'kel stated as he folded his hands. "As an Angosian soldier, you've operated in units before?"

Cian?n nodded in affirming, "sir, yes. We're..." He almost used the term programmed. "...trained to work within both individual and group combat situations."

"And you respect the decisions of your leaders, and trust them to make the right decisions?"

"Of course." Cian?n didn't elaborate that often he had no choice - it was instinct.

"And as your leader, I've decided you have the skills and capabilities to lead a platoon. Ergo, logically..." For'kel cut off there, figuring it best to let his fellow officer draw the conclusion for himself.

"I'll be leading the platoon, sir." Cian?n added.

"Well I was aiming at getting you to recognize you've the ability to lead, but I'll take blind obedience if nothing else works." The Colonel joked. "Will there be anything else, Lieutenant?"

Cian?n wasn't convinced that he had the ability to lead, it wasn't in his nature. However, he wouldn't take the Colonel's suggestions lightly. "No sir, nothing else."

"In that case Lieutenant, see to it that your Marines are armed, equipped, and battle-ready. No telling when we might be deployed. You're dismissed."

"A New Job"

Lieutenant Faylin McAlister
Corporal Dr. Cian?n Tierney

<Personal Quarters>

Cian?n awoke with a start, his bed sheet was torn off and bound tightly around his legs a sure sign of night thrashing. His bare chest heaved panicked breaths. His eyes blinked and stared at the ceiling trying to comprehend the images.

Was he going crazy?

He thought he smelled the death and heard the gargles of choking lungs. It all seemed so real, so lucid.

The Angosian pulled at the bedding to free himself. He rolled out of bed and set his feet silently on the cool floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands, rubbing over his shaved head. His breathing returned to normal, but he was damp from sweat.

After a moment he stood up and walked to his sink. His bare chest glistened from sweat. His face appeared to be slightly drained. It was clearly a night terror. Cian?n had experienced them in the past. It was reliving his past violently.

At first the marine felt compelled to contact the Counselor. The Angosian regretted showing the Betazoid his chaos. Investing further in the relationship might do more harm than good. Cian?n was confident he could handle the psychologist.

What to do?

There was only one person he felt would understand.

=/\= "Computer location of Lieutenant McAlister?" =/\=

=^= "Lieutenant McAlister is in her office." =^=

Slipping on a t-shirt and then a pair of jogging pants over his shorts he grabbed his communicator and headed into the corridor. As he walked he reflected on his conversation with Colonel For'kel earlier. He would follow orders, but he still felt empty.

Taking a mere moment, she studied the mementos around her as she placed each gingerly in bubble wrap. Chaos was the order of the time of day in her work environment. The chairs sat, supporting the weight of several black cases. pictures she had replicated and framed, rested in piles through out the small space. No one had known the true meaning behind these images.

At first glance, it appeared Faylin was quite popular among various Universal diplomats, dignitaries, and others. To a point, that was the case. However, those pictures were more to her at least. They were proof of her hits. Hidden underneath the picture, were two items. A reprint of the news article announcing the death and a four by six print of her handiwork, no matter how gruesome.

Mistake number one was having her back to the door. Mistake number two was lifting the impressive yet compact phaser rifle out of it's foam confines as he walked in unannounced. She was still able to spin on her heels with relative grace as she raised her favorite phaser with silencer attached and held her gaze steady against the intruder.

"I didn't mean to startle you." Cian?n stared at the phaser. "A bit jumpy tonight?" He cracked a small smile out of the corner of his mouth.

"Is there something you need?" Fay questioned absentmindedly as she placed the gun back into the case.

Cian?n shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I thought you might be up."

"I'm always up." She muttered before blinking her inner eye lids at him. "I'm just packing up a few things..what do you want to talk about?"

"How do you do it?" Cian?n asked rather bluntly. "Live live these people and not go crazy?" Cian?n didn't know all the details of McAlister's past, but what he did know showed some parallels to his own past.

She smiled slowly, hinting at their common ground with her facial expression. "I adapt. And, remember what it felt like to kill in cold blood....."

"Do they," Cian?n was referring to Starfleet, "make you see a counselor?" He didn't wait for an answer, "how do you adapt?"

Fay smiled, offering him a seat as she wound herself around the cluttered desk. "It depends on how 'useful' they consider you honey. Me.....I'm classified as useful due to my ability to shape shift and for the simple fact that my 'father' was head of a certain syndicate the 'good guys' were attempting to bring down for years." She paused for a moment. "I was granted legal immunity in exchange for my testimony in court officially and my abilities to complete tasks of Starfleets calling unofficially when they call upon me. Counselors.....well....they were thrown in there for my official Starfleet record. The Fleet can't have an insane ex assassin running around now, can they?" Replicating a cup of coffee for both of them, she offered him his and returned to her seat.

"So......like I said before...it's an adjustment and at times it's very difficult when a fellow crew member pisses you off so much that the only thought in your head is.....can I get away with killing them and what would I do with the body?" That sinister smile returned for a sheer second before she shook her head. "It's a virus baby.....a virus that never goes away...no matter how much they counsel you and attempt to tell you that you are reformable. Once a murderer, always a murderer."

Cian?n nodded. It was exactly the feelings he had. Faylin was able to articulate them perfectly. "What are you packing for?" He asked.

"I have an interview for another assignment that's in my area of expertise."

Cian?n wished he could say the same thing. He felt out of his element. All the sights, sounds, smells were driving him crazy. If possible the typically apathetic marine felt serenity on Vulcan. "You seem sure you're going to get it." The Angosian said.

"It's a sure thing. The interview is more of a formality." She stated, then glanced down for a second before rubbing a spot on the back of her neck. Grabbing a pigtail holder, she lifted her hair into a ponytail. The slight black outline of a new tattoo that was shapped like a crow danced at the base of her neck, glass black eyes peeked out from behind a mass of blond hair.

Cian?n leaned against a wall. "Do you have regrets coming here?" He didn't miss the tattoo, he had a couple himself. He stopped his hand from reaching up to his temple, the most prominent tatto - his mark of being an Angosian soldier. Cian?n also did not miss the details of her apparent nonchalant ways of packing as though she didn't have a care. Cian?n knew it was not so.

"A few. But all were well worth it."

"No one can talk you out of taking this new job?" Cian?n asked.

"There's no one tying me here. I've burned my bridges, made enemies, there's nothing left here. I've buried one baby, and miscarried another. I've fought in battles that left numbers of the people I call friends dead. I've been betrayed by a close friend, tricked by others, and forced to retrain my true self due to Starfleet regulations. I gave it a shot, but I don't belong here."

Cian?n was silent for a moment. "Psychologists play with your brain." He muttered under his breath. However, he learned a few things from some of them. "You seem to think that leaving here will solver your problems." It wasn't a question merely a statement. "I've learned that sometimes it isn't the setting, but the person. No matter where I go I will always remember and relive my past."

"This is my past but not my future. I know what I am, have admitted that I am not reformable, and have found a group that will accept me and my skills for what they are...no questions asked. I'm going there....Starfleet be damned. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Sounds like weakness." Cian?n said offhandedly. "Not something I typically associate with someone in your position." He shrugged.

"It's not weakness, it's acceptance of who you are."

"Who told you that?" Cian?n asked. "Or did you come up with it yourself? Pretty convenient psychological trick. Let me try it. I slaughtered hundreds of lives - some innocent - I accept that I was programmed to kill." Cian?n thought about it, "holy shit! I'm cured. I've got to go tell the Counselor that I'm cured. I've accepted who I am." Cian?n stopped mocking. "Acceptance seems to passive. I'm sure Ferengi accept that they are profit driven, but it doesn't help if they don't do anything about it."

She smirked. "Is there a reason that you are really here? Or you were just sent to antagonize me?"

"Consider the antagonizing part of the package deal." Cian?n said flatly. "I'm not sure why I came to see you. Perhaps to garner sage advice, though I seem to be the one offering it." Cian?n said with a wry smile.

"Naw....you just came to feast your eyes on me on the hopes of getting lucky.....admit it." Fay returned the wry smile before picking up a box. "However, it is getting late and I do need to get some things done in the morning....."

Cian?n returned the smile. "Subtle hint." He turned to leave. "If it makes any difference, I hope you don't get the transfer."

"I didn't say anything about a transfer.....I said a 'job'. And I believe you and I both know what that term implies......"

"A Bowl of Green"

Cadet Artemis Bancroft (PC)
Petty Officer Mikker Dunston (NPC)

***

"You're a Vulcan."

Artemis looked up from the bowl of... What was it? Well, it was green and had no flavor to speak of. She glanced first out the porthole overlooking the emptiness of space beyond. From her vantage, she would be able to see if the starship returned. The Hydran ships were still out there, waiting as well. She set the bowl aside and then focused on the speaker.

"Quarter," she answered.

He was human and probably somewhere in his twenties. Brown hair fell into his eyes and his uniform looked as if he'd been crawling over someone's bat'leth collection, or maybe had found someone's pet sehlat or targ.

"Oh," he said, while he continued watching her. Finally, when she didn't offer more, he added, "And the rest human?"

"Mostly," Artemis answered. "My mum was part Vulcan, part Romulan. My dad was human. It's really a long story, and not that interesting."

"We've got time," he said. He glanced at open spot next to her, then back to her, expectant.

Artemis had heard stories about how in desperate situations, people would frequently become more amorous than normal. There had been quite a bit of that on the Solstice, though she hadn't been aware of it until she was older. And the way he was looking at her now reminded her of a few uncomfortable encounters aboard the Soltice. "I'm sixteen."

That seemed to take some of the wind from his sails, but he sat down anyway.

"It's really all kind of classified, actually," Artemis said. "Top, top secret stuff, you know."

The way his eyebrow crept up his forehead, he could have passed for a Vulcan, save for the lack of points on his ears. "I don't think that's true."

"Part true," she answered. "My dad was from an alternate dimension, sort of."

He perked up at that, finally getting some information. "That is interesting. Most people have parents from their own dimension, you know."

Artemis sighed. "I sort of gathered that. Look, really, it's not interesting. Believe me. Besides, it's Mum's story, not mine. She got knocked into the Mirror Universe by accident and was stuck there."

The interest he was showing was proof enough that she should just clam up and tell him more. The same thing happened at the Academy. It was always nice to find someone with a more interesting story than her own. She was barely even in the Mirror Universe, at all. For all anyone could say, they were already out when she was born.

"And she found some guy, and there you were. What was it like? The Mirror Universe, I mean."

"I'm sure it was quite mirror-y, but I don't think I was even born there. Do you think the Hydrans might attack us down here?"

He glanced in the direction from which he seemed to think the Hydrans would launch their attack, saw nothing and shrugged. "We're safe enough here, I think," he said. "So, how long was she trapped there?"

"Five years," Artemis said. "Well, five before she gave up on getting back. I was born in the sixth year, which was when she was rescued."

"That's amazing," he said. "When did it happen? Her getting trapped and all."

Artemis took a long breath, let it out. Why couldn't Starfleet Command and the Federation Council made all of this classified. And why did she always just tell it anyway. "Look, you're a nice guy and all, but I'd really rather not talk about all this."

Was he giving her puppy dog eyes? He was giving her puppy dog eyes! If his lip started trembling or she saw a single tear, she'd break her guitar over his head!

"Fine," she finally muttered. "It was nine years ago when Mum got pulled into the Mirror Universe."

The puppy dog eyes vanished as he did the math. They always did the math. "Three years. That means you were born three years ago."

"More or less," Artemis said with a sigh. From here, there were two paths. Which would he be?

He seemed upset now. A vein in his temple was even pulsing. "You made the whole thing up, didn't you?"

Path A. "I had you going, didn't I?"

For a moment, he seemed unsure whether to stay angry or not. But then the anger dissipated and he shook his head. "Yeah, you did."

"I told you it wasn't interesting," Artemis said. "Thanks for the chat. I think I'd better go check and see if there's anything I should be doing."

He stood up as she did. "What's your name," he blurted. "I'm Mik, by the way."

"T'Sira," Artemis answered. She guessed he was probably sounding it out in his head. She gave him a knowing look. "And, Mik, I really am sixteen and a cadet. I was supposed to be on the Carthage, but...you know."

"You thought I was...I mean, I wasn't...I wouldn't. Well...I guess it is hard to tell...you don't seem like...well...a kid."

She shrugged. "I had to grow up fast." She picked up her guitar, slung it over her back, and started off toward where Sharzhevashi was standing with a few others.

"See you later, T'Sira," he called.

She glanced back with a grin. "Call me Artemis."

"Hard To Be An Adult" [Backpost]

Lt. Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelienia

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

Even though she and Victor were on better terms and she and Angie were on some kind of terms, it had been Ella's habit of late to avoid being in the same room with both of them. She just wasn't that masochistic. But Ella was now on her way to pick up the Ktarian at Victor's quarters because in times of war you had to forget about your pride and the remains of your trampled heart.

Ella rang the buzzer. Hopefully, Victor would already be in Security.

The security scanner that she'd overseen the installation of a lifetime ago flashed at her, and three seconds later the door opened automatically as Angelienia's voice greeted her with a somewhat surprised, "Grey? Is something wrong?"

She handed the woman a computer PADD. *THERE'S BEEN A MISSION CHANGE. AGAIN. I'M HERE TO PICK YOU UP ON MY WAY OVER.*

Ella couldn't resist peeking into the room to see a glimpse of Victor and she was surprised at what she saw. Gone was the spartan design and bare walls. There were plants and picture frames, weapons on the wall, naturally, and music of a sort playing in the background. It looked... warm and inviting.

It made her both happy and incredibly depressed.

The Ktarian nodded and handed the padd back. "All right, but we'll need to stop by my room and grab my flight gear." She indicated the exercise outfit she had on, "I don't keep any clothes over here, and this isn't the sort of thing you wear to a briefing; I just stopped by after my run to make sure that his Aunts hadn't left him a message. He's too stubborn to have an automatic notice set up for incoming messages from them, so I try to check once or twice a day when he's on-shift and I'm not working in Security or on Flight Duty."

Ella nodded to show that she was listening, and she was, but she intended to forget what she'd heard as soon as possible. She didn't want to know the little details of Angie and Victor's life together. Even if it was just as simple as mail. She waited while the other woman grabbed a few things.

Angelienia took only a minute to pick up a towel and her combadge, and then exited the room. "Let's go." Three steps later she added, "Thanks for coming to get me."

The pilot shrugged. No big deal. Just two mature adults being friendly-like towards each other. She'd have to tell Corran later that she was capable of being mature - although she knew it would just make him snort. She wondered briefly if they had reached a stage in their friendship where he wouldn't mind hearing about Victor. For some reason she began to feel reassured while she was walking with Angie, as if Corran were sending her comforting thoughts.

No reason she couldn't be civil, Ella supposed. She waved at Angelienia, mimicked boxing, and then pointed back at the woman's clothes with a questioning face. She just couldn't see Angie as a yoga person.

"Was I sparring?" the pilot asked. At Ella's nod, she nodded and blushed slightly, looking away as if that would hide her embarrassment.

"Ummm.... yes, sort of; before my run. I'm not good at that sort of thing, you know? Flying a fighter is one thing, that's easy for me, but hitting someone with my fist? No, that isn't easy, not for me. I canwrestle a little, I learned that back in school because there was a boy I was interested in on the team, but actually fighting... not so good." She looked up and down the hall as they stopped at the turbolift, and added conspiratorially, "I passed my last three evaluations only because I fixed the person certifying me up with someone they were interested in."

Ella smiled.

"Anyway," Angelienia continued as they boarded the lift and it sped off towards Pilot Country, "I've been... taking some lessons from one of the other folks in the Hazard Team - T'lan. I'm still not really good at it, but at least I don't have to be scared for my or someone else's life, or really pissed off, to actually fight now." She looked over at Ella. "That probably seems silly to you, though; you're much tougher than I am."

Ella felt her eyebrows shoot upwards and made a 'pfft' noise.

"What? You are," the Ktarian asserted. "Everyone knows that you're tough just by looking at you - they don't even need to hear that story about the two drunk guys on DS5 that got stupid and tried to get rough with you."

She rolled her eyes and typed away on her computer PADD, nearly running into a few people in the process. *THAT WAS NOTHING. IT'S NOT SO HARD TO KICK IN THE FAMILY JEWELS WHEN THE GUYS ARE STINKING DRUNK. EVERY GIRL ON EARTH KNOWS THAT TRICK*

"That's my point: that isn't what I'd think of," Angelienia explained. "If I were in that situation before, I would have gotten the two of them to fight and left while they were at it, or gotten a third person to step in and scare them off or rough them up. Not confronted them myself. That's why you're tougher than I am."

Ella remained skeptical. *YOU'VE ALWAYS CALLED ME MOUSE*

The Ktarian's blush darkened to an unbecoming shade of scarlet and she looked down at her feet. "I... I'm sorry about that. It wasn't very nice of me... and it wasn't because you were physically weak or anything. It was because... because you say things to make the person who has what - or who - you want look less desirable to them. Because you're jealous and you're mean. Not because they're true."

*I KNEW THAT ... I JUST THOUGHT YOU FELT IT AS WELL*

"No, not really," Angelienia sighed as the turbolift arrived and they boarded. "I was just being... mean." She met Ella's eyes. "I'm sorry if what I said hurt you."

*DON'T FEEL BAD, I'VE CALLED YOU WORSE* And meant every word, Ella thought. ANYWAY, I DON'T THINK I'M ANY TOUGHER THAN YOU*

Angelienia smiled a little as she called out their destination and the lift set out. "I do - but I'm not going to fight about it. You'll just beat me up, and I don't want to have to get all those bruises just to say 'I told you so.'"

Ella felt her whole being just want to sigh. She didn't want to like this woman. At all. And yet it would probably be rather easy to slide into a friendship now that Angie wasn't being a psychotic bitch. Even if she had Victor.

It's very hard being an adult, Corran, she thought, knowing *that* at least was something they could talk about later. Do I really have to?

*DON'T WORRY, ANG, I ONLY TEND TO GET INTO FIGHTS IN BARS.*

"I'll remember that," she nodded as the lift car arrived and the doorsopened. "Come on, I'm this way." As she started down the corridor, dodging Marines and other crewmen moving with a purpose, the Ktarian added, "Any ideas on what the big change is this time? We just got a full wing of fighters back up and running after that mess on the Flight Deck."

Ella shrugged. She wasn't really sure but figured it was probably something she wouldn't want to hear. Another delay in deployment, another glitch in the fighters - well, hopefully there would be no psychotic killers involved.

Angelienia keyed open her door, revealing a room cluttered with bits of fabric and thread, an unmade bed, and, oddly, a table that Ella finally puzzled out as being an archaic sewing table, with a half-completed dress pinned to it. "I'll just be a minute!" her companion called back as she dashed into the adjoining room.

Ella moved over to the dress and couldn't stop herself from touching the fabric. It was good quality and looked like it would make an excellent dress. Damn.

She tilted her head as Angie came back into the room and tried to picture the dress on her. Ella frowned.

The other woman paused with one hand on her flight suit zipper at the throat where she'd just finished closing it, and the other holding her boots and flightline bag, helmet stuffed under the handstraps. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Ella pointed at the dress, Angie, and then to an imaginary hemline. Then she shook her head.

It took a glance at the dressmaker's table for the pilot to make the connection. "There's something wrong with the dress?"

The pilot moved her hands apart vertically. Longer. Pressed her hands together. Slinkier.

"You think the hem should be lower and that it should be... tighter?"

Ella nodded. She made an okay sign with hand and then whistled.

Angie reached down and adjusted something on the table, and then rotated the top so it was vertical rather than horizontal to look at the dress. "Hmmm... that's not what the pattern calls for... but I think you're right; it would look better that way." She eyed the outfit again, and then looked at Ella and smiled, "Thank you."

Ella waved off the mushy moment and pointed to her imaginary watch.

"I know; time to go," the Ktarian nodded. She set the flightline bag down and stuffed her feet into the boots rapidly, then grabbed the bag and straightened up. "I..." She waited until she'd cleared her door and was moving down the corridor to finish the statement. "I... thank you. I know it isn't easy, so... thank you."

The other woman looked at her old nemesis for a moment and then, because she couldn't think of anything else to do, shrugged.

"Scrounging On The Bottom, Part II - Conclusion"

By

Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic
Petty Officer 2nd Class
Triage Officer/Coordinator, DS5 Field Hospital/Survivor Intake

Victory, Nurse
Petty Officer 3rd Class
Nurse, DS5 Field Hospital

Moments after they descended to the next deck, it was more of the same, either empty storerooms with useless junk, or empty rooms. Max would normally feel frustrated with the run of bad luck finding anything, but he was sufficiently distracted with present company. "Y'know, Vic" he said, "I'm still trying to figure out something."

The short redheaded nurse glanced at him, slightly confused. "What are you trying to figure out?" she asked.

"Why do you wear glasses? I mean they look great on you, but how come?"

"I wear them to see properly" she replied honestly. "My optical sensors...um, eyes, are damaged beyond the ability of my internal repair system to fix, and the Starfleet Corps. of Engineers doesn't have a clue how to fix them either. A lot of my technology is incompatible with anything humans have ever encountered" she shrugged. "Neither I nor the engineers were comfortable removing my optics to try and fix them externally. Chances were that they would not be able to repair them anyways, and then unable to reinstall the. So, the best solution was to wear glasses" she smiled. "And yes, I like how they look too" she added

Returning the smile, Max pointed to a large set of doors up ahead. "That looks promising." The decal on top of the door controls read 'Mass Storage'. "If there's any food, it's gotta be in here," he commented.

"I hope so" Victory said and followed Max into the dimly lit compartment.

"We'll see," he said in reply, and all hope for an easy solution evaporated when they were greeted with a poorly lit cavernous storage bay, with what appeared to be several thousand crates, canisters, and boxes. Max looked at Victory with tired eyes. "We're gonna be here a while."

"Looks like we found one of the main storage bays" she said and swept her eyes about. "Did you bring a tricorder?" She asked. "I lost mine when I was getting out of the upper sections of the station. But it could help us find food faster" she added as she switched her eyes through several visual modes, favoring the x-ray function. "I might be able to see something though.."

"Nope," Max answered, already hefting a large crate and letting it slam to the deck. He worked the embedded keypad to unlock it and took a look inside. There was nothing but a slew of self sealing stem bolts. He sighed. "Definitely a while."

- - - - - - - -

*Two Hours later...*

"Any luck there?" Max was sweating, behind him was a landscape of opened and tossed crates and various containers.

"Erm, not unless you want to eat ODN cables or isoliniar chips" she responded as she tapped the release button on another crate's locks. The lid popped loose and she pulled it off. "Oh! Maybe....oh yuck. Eat before April 2, 2240. How the heck did this get here?" she asked, quickly resealing the crate.

"That's probably from someone's cleared inventory," guessed Max. "Then the 'Crats pass it along just like they push paper all over their desk...except this crate has probably been to every port of call in both Quadrants, and then some." Then: "Jackpot!...sorta..."

"Oh! What did you find?!" Victory asked as she jogged over to the crate Max was looking into.

"Found me a crate full of disruptors," he grinned. Then, in a more sober manner, "I'll have Security or one of the Marines take a look at this." The next group of containers were wide cylindrical and upright. Max pulled the lock pins, which allowed the container to pressurize, and pulled the lid. He read the label on one of the small aluminum can which was oddly shaped: *S*p*a*m*

"What the hell is Spam?" Max asked.

Victory blinked and looked at the blue and yellow aluminum cans that filled the container. "Um..." she gingerly reached in a picked one up. "I think I have heard of this stuff before" she said as she read the small print on the label. "Some sort of food..I wouldn't want to eat any of it though..look at all the sodium in it! There's enough in there to kill a Tellerite" she held the can closer to her eyes. "But it does not have an expiration date what so ever...I think it's supposed to last forever"

Looking up at Max she held up the can. "One way to find out, I guess?" she said and flipped the tab on the sealed lid up, then pulled the flimsy metal lid off of the can. Inside lay a rather slimy looking meat, pink and squishy, but it looked edible..even if only just so. "I can't digest food, so you're gonna have to do it"

"Great make me the guinea pig," Max whined. He took the proffered can, sniffed it, then sniffed it some more. It didn't look terribly appetizing, but if he could eat GagH... "Here goes," he said in resignation. He took a small sampling with his fingers, felt the slippery texture as he handled it, then took a deep breath and ate it.

"Well, at least I'll be treating people for fluid retention instead of malnutrition," was Max's verdict. Let's get this stuff hauled back up there."

Victory could not help but start laughing after Max downed the piece of Spam. She had held it off as long as she could, but it was too much.

Max cocked his head to the side and asked, "What?"

"The look on your face when you eat that stuff was priceless!" she giggled as she picked up two of the heavy crates, one with each hand. "You should have seen your face!"

"Hmph," was all Max would say as he struggled to pick up one of the crates. He glanced at Victory who effortlessly held a crate in each hand and said, "Showoff," in mock indignation.

Victory stuck her tongue out at Max. "Well, I could carry just one case, have a hard time and ask you for help with it" She replied with an overly cute smile

Grumbling, Max walked on while Victory giggled on.

- - - - - - - -

*Back at the Field Hospital/Intake...

Max had called over to one of the Crewman with a gold collar. "Message to Captain Jaxom: We have food, and plenty of it." The crewman nodded and headed out. Max turned to Victory. "Well, that turned out well, don't you think?"

"Yes, I think so too" she replied. "So, um, I guess you have other things to be doing now?" she asked. "Maybe I can help some more?" she had no intention of being cut loose from the one friendly person she had found since making it down to where the survivors had dug themselves in.

"By all means," Max smiled. "We can help them bring up the rest of the, um, 'food'. Then we still have patients to keep alive up here. Can't let Huele and Pepper have all the fun, eh?" He liked being around Victory, and wanted to continue being in her company. *The Universe is a strange place indeed,*contemplated Max.

"Great!" Victory smiled and almost skipped as she moved to follow Max along back down to help collect the remaining crates of Spam which would help keep the refugee's fed for some time.

"Let's Go and Get Them"

(Takes place after 'Breakout')

Principal Characters:
(Many only semi-authorized for use in this fashion)

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Captain, USS Galaxy
Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara, XO
Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Colonel For'kel Arvelion, Commander, Marine Detachment
Lt. Commander Corran Rex, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. Saul Bental, Chief Intelligence Officer
Lt. Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer
Lt. Michael Jamson, Chief of Operations
Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Representative

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Briefing Room

"All right," Daren said quietly once the door had closed behind the last arrival - the nervous Ktarian Flight Officer who was standing in for the ship's CAG who was off on Saul Bental's 'Operation Ancient Melody' - and she was seated. "I'm dispensing with the usual formalities - we don't have time for them. I'll just tell you what we're going to do, and then we're going to figure out how to make that happen. This once, there's not going to be a discussion about whether or not we can make the mission happen; we don't have a choice."

He stopped and looked around the room, and, seeing no dissent, continued, "To sum things up, based on the information that we received from DS5 during our initial pass, there are approximately 1000 survivors aboard the station. We will not be abandoning them, which means that Galaxy will be returning to DS5 in very short order. There are no other Starfleet vessels in range to assist us, so we're on our own."

"Enemy forces?" For'kel spoke up.

"As of our pass," Corran spoke up from across the table, "the Hydrans have four ships stationed at DS5: Shield of Resolution, a frigate; Light of Vindication, a Heavy Carrier; Slarrardo, a light attack corvette; and Hammer of Progress, a light carrier. Damage assessments from the exchange at the initial pass indicate that the Light of Vindication was almost certainly disabled and should still be out of action on our return."

The Tactical officer got through the summation as quickly as possible. The voices were getting worse now. The basic shielding Brian and the Chief had been able to provide him with filtered much of the noise out, but it was growing even more difficult as time passed. No one noticed much, however - after several thousand years of joined life, Rex was very, very good at hiding things.

But now - this latest development with Ella - was serving to almost unhinge him. At times, Corran could see through her eyes, feel through her hands....

It was distracting, to say the least.

"What about her...." the Ktarian pilot asked in a squeak. Flushing, she straightened up and repeated the question in a more normal tone of voice, "What about her fighters?"

"We have to figure they'll all be present and flying," Corran replied. He wished he could give a better answer.

"The rest of the invasion fleet is no longer in the vicinity of the station, so this is all the resistance we should expect." Saul Bental added. "From what we can tell by SFI's long range sensors, the Hydrans won't be able to call reinforcements fast enough."

"And DS5 itself?" Jamson asked, even though he already knew the answer. He wanted to certain even thought he had some other thoughts running through the thick skull of his. If it was up to him, he'd go in and stay there until ordered otherwise. Aside from the fact there were survivors onboard the station, and their safety was above all, Deep Space was an important strategic installment and shouldn't be left for the Hydrans.

"We have to assume that the Hydrans are in command of the station's armament as well," Iniara confirmed. "Anything else would be suicidal."

"Wonderful," Jamson added. "Any more good news?" It was a shame to leave such an important structure in the hands of the Hydrans, and even though he didn't agree, he knew he didn't have a saying. Pity though...he'd give the Hydrans exactly what they wanted, a fight. But a decision was already made, and time was short.

"Actually, yes," Saul spoke up again, pulling a PADD from the white backpack which stored the medical equipment that sustained his damaged arm. The Dutchman quickly attached the hand-held device to the central console.

"After decoding the transmissions from DS5 - there were two by the way, both using different methods - and comparing the data, it appears that they were both sent by the same group, as the information contained in them was identical... with one exception."

"And that was?" For'kel asked carefully.

The infamous sly smirk emerged on Saul's face. "The second transmission, the one that used a laser to beam the signal against our navigational deflector, had a critical piece of information added to it, apparently at the last moment: the IIF codes for the Hydran fleet stationed there. Unless this is a clever disinformation feed - and we'll be able to confirm or deny that seconds after we engage - this could be the key to a Hydran defeat."

The Ktarian leaned forward, but didn't say anything, as if that had meant something to her.

"Okay, so we've got their IIF codes," For'kel asked. "How did these people get them, and how do we use them?"

"Likely," Corran spoke up, maintaining a tight control on his concentration once more. The presence of Darren and For'kel helped quite a bit - both had such strictly ordered minds, Corran found himself able to draw on that, "from the starbase's fire control computer. If the Hydrans were going to use the station's weapons, they'd add the IIF codes to the 'approved' list, which would stop the starbase's weapons from regarding them as valid targets and keep the computerized fire control systems from locking onto them. I'd lay odds that they've already deleted the Federation IIF codes contained there so the station would fire on any Starfleet - or 'friendly' - ships in range."

"As for what it gets us..." Iniara interjected, resisting the urge to frown. Something wasn't right with the Tactical Chief, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Not for the first time she silently wishes she hadn't become so dependent on psi-suppressors in her everyday life. "If we swap our standard codes for the Hydran ones, then the starbase's weapons won't be able to lock onto us and use the computerized fire control - they'll have to manually target and fire each weapon."

Corran smiled in an unpleasant way as he finished the thought that the XO had started. "And neither will the other Hydran ships or their fighters. They'll be using the same codes to keep from shooting their allies. So they'll all be on manual targeting, or they'll just have to risk shooting their own ships - which will even the odds some in our favor."

"Plus we could launch decoys transmitting our original codes." The Dutch intelligence chief added.

"As far as good news goes," Daren interrupted, "that's the end of it. Manual targeting or no, we're still up against three ships, all of their fighters, and the Starbase." He looked around the table. "That's why I've decided to separate the Saucer Section for the battle. We're going to need the division of firepower that will give us in order to engage the enemy *and* stage the rescue simultaneously." He nodded to Iniara. "I'll command the Secondary Hull from the Battle Bridge and engage the Hydran ships, and Iniara will command the Saucer Section and deal with the rescue."

"Won't," Corgan spoke up for the first time, "that make the more vulnerable Saucer Section a prime target?"

"Ordinarily yes," Dhanishta agreed. She worked on her padd for a moment. "But I think I can help with that. If we modify the subspace field output of the deflector generators, to create a low level subspace field around the primary hull, it will have the effect of lowering the Saucer's inertial mass. If we tap into the extra power generated by the unused support vehicles in the main shuttle bay..." she ran some more numbers "...channeled into the EPS array... Yes, that will help boost the output of the shield grid offsetting the drain from the modified output as well as strengthening the SIF & IDF."

"What does it net us in terms of results?" For'kel asked.

"63% lower inertial mass," Dhani replied as she sent her figures to the rest of the group's padds and looked up. "With the Saucer's inertial mass dropped by over half, the impulse engines on the hull will be able to move the saucer section faster and maneuver more easily."

"Worth considering," Daren nodded. "What are the downsides?"

"Only one, really; at least as far as we're concerned: the subspace field will be unstable and will need manually monitoring and calibrating. The computer won't allow us to perform the procedure as it is most definitely *not* within standard safety protocols, so we'll have to override it. For the duration of the engagement it ought to be fine, but I wouldn't want to do this on a regular basis, or for an extended period of time. That would result in damage to the field emitters and, over time, virtually guarantee a catastrophic systems failure during operation."

The Ktarian pilot looked up and down the table, and then tentatively raised her hand. "Umm... I have a question?"

"Go ahead, Flight Officer," Iniara smiled.

"I'm not trying to be a spoiled raktar or anything, but... how are we going to get close enough to the station to do this? They still have the same sensor arrays and all, and they'll see us coming and be waiting for us just like they did this last time."

"I think Saul and I can help with that, Angel," Corran offered. "One of the other things in the transmissions from DS5 was a report on how the Hydrans managed to approach the station undetected in the first place. We've looked at it, and thanks to a bit of jiggering - that's a technical term - the survivors at DS5 have given us an opportunity to use their method right back on them."

"Whoever sent the transmission is paying their flight ticket in advance." Saul took over. "What the Hydrans did, apparently, was to have one of their agents hardwire a program that checked the raw feed from the sensors before it got to the displays and told the sensors any ships coming out of a specific sector of Hydran space weren't there - in essence, making them invisible. One of the survivors - and I'd love to meet them - got the idea of adding a patch to the Hydran cross-wire, making it look like the cross-wiring was turned off... when it was really still on. All we have to do is approach via the same vectors as the Hydrans did, and they'll not see us until we're literally on top of them. Easy as breathing."

Corgan frowned. "How reliable are these messages?"

Saul glanced up at the Captain before responding, "I don't think we're being misled here, although we should make contingency plans in case the messages are Hydran-made. If the message is genuine, there's at least one command-rank officer there who inserted some codes to verify his identity, and a civilian ASDB employee who did likewise. The odds on either of these two being Hydran agents or of the Hydrans reproducing the codes are very low."

The Security Chief nodded. "So what's next?"

"The rescue itself." Iniara looked down the table at For'kel. "We'll need all of your Marines suited up and ready for a boarding action, Colonel. Once we move in, you'll launch from the main shuttle bay in one big wave, and board the station here using your landing craft." She called up an image of the station and indicated a maintenance craft bay. "That's the closest point to where we think the survivors are. You secure as many of them as possible, issue them transporter tags for beamout and load anyone that can't be beamed off onto the landing craft, and pull out to the Saucer Section while we provide you with cover fire and point defense against the Hydran fighters. There's something wrong with the internal sensors on the station - we think a survivor sabotaged them - but it's not going to take a genius to figure out what's happening once your ships start landing."

For'kel nodded. "Can do, provided of course that we don't splash off their shields."

"Already covered," Corran interjected. "The survivors think they can disable them in that section to assist us, but just in case that falls through, and if they get battle shields up before you launch, we're going to hit them with a shield modulation scan and find the interpenetration frequency the fighters are using and let you skate in that way. They've had to shift over to Hydran modulations - there's been no time for the Hydrans to switch to Federation frequencies - and there's only a narrow band of compatibility, which makes finding the frequency easier. If we get lucky, we can beam most of the survivors off to give you less time on the ground and under fire, and the Saucer Section less of a chance of being crippled while we have a shield down."

"Once we've got the survivors, then what?" Jamson asked. He was eager to try again. In his eyes, getting out of there was a cowardly act, and was equal to a defeat. They should at least try something before pulling away from the area, like wounded beasts.

"We run," Daren answered. "We can't stay and fight it out with them - they've got too many ships and too much firepower. Once we get our people out, we break through the shipyard and the ship graveyard to give us some cover from the station's weapons while we dock the sections, and run."

Jamson looked a little agitated at that. "All right, sir." He wanted to show the Hydrans that the Galaxy and its crew members, as well as Starfleet, were not afraid of battle. The line was supposed to be drawn here. Not a step back. The course of action wasn't always logical, and agreeable by most Starfleet captains, but it was his. Deep inside he knew they'd be facing unimaginable odds, but no one knew if they'd succeed in running away, so why not die with honor?

"Fighters, sir?" Angelienia asked, not bothering to raise a hand this time. Do you want them with the Saucer, the Secondary Hull, or both?"

"Both," Daren answered. "It'll split you thin, but we need you in both places."

"What do you need from me, sir," Corgan nodded towards For'kel, "if the Colonel is handling the rescue action?"

"Boarding parties, James." Daren tapped a few keys on his LCARS and pulled up a chart of the Galaxy, points where the Hydrans had landed boarding parties at Havras and attempted to do so at Romulus blinking in red. "With everything that's going on, we know that they'll try and land some - and with the Marines off-ship, you're going to have to handle all of them, on both parts of the ship."

Corgan studied the diagram and nodded. "We'll take care of it."

Dhanishta looked up from her seat. "Captain, just one other thing," she interjected, "what about the station? We can't re-take it, are we therefore going to leave it under Hydran control, or...?" she looked up expectantly, letting them fill in the blanks.

"Barring intervention by Allah," Daren answered sadly, "we're going to have to leave it in Hydran hands; we don't have the firepower to destroy it by ourselves. There are some self-destruct codes we can try and transmit while we're departing - Saul has those - but if I were a Hydran traitor, the first thing I'd do is change the access codes so the ones we have would be useless." He looked around the table again. "Okay, then I take it we have a plan?"

When no one contradicted him, he stood up. "We have six hours until we're out of sensor range and can make the loop to come up in their blind spot. Twelve hours after that, we'll need to be in position and ready to go. That gives us eighteen hours until this operation commences. Let's get moving. Time's wasting and our people are waiting for us. Let's go and get them."

"Head Count"

By

Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic (PC)
Petty Officer 2nd Class
Triage Officer/Coordinator, DS5 Field Hospital/Survivor Intake

Rata (NPC)
Petty Officer 2nd Class
Assistant Logistics Technician, DS5

*Field Hospital/Intake Area, Section Q, Lower Decks, DS5*

The numbers were staggering to him. He wasn't even sure how they were going to be able to move all of these people, and that was not to mention the bodies sitting in the cold storage one deck below them. Huele, Pepper, and Victory along with the Ferengi Petty Officer (Max couldn't remember his name for the life of him) and a couple of people from Security were counting heads and bodies after Captain Jaxom gave the instruction to have everyone ready for transport. A final total was needed to increase the ease and efficiency (if there could ever truly be such a thing) of transporting everyone out. And it would be under fire.

Not knowing how many ships would be involved in the rescue, and because he always thought in the worst case, Max considered the possibility of one, maybe two ships coming to help them. Which meant the now thirty-nine critical patients would be top priority, followed by one hundred ninety-six urgent patients, and the rest of the walking wounded could egress with the general survivor group. The total injured and survivor count was one thousand fifty-one persons, and there were ninety-two bodies in cold storage below them. The dead were either patients who deteriorated, or bodies that were found in the recon of the lower decks.

He read the information on the PADD in his hand, signed it, and had a Crewman run up to Captain Jaxom with the information. He had given Jaxom an estimate before, but now he had an exact count, as no one new had been found in quite some time.

In between PADDs, the Ferengi Petty Officer had by this point made it to Max, question on his face. Max raised his eyebrows high indicating that the man should ask his question. "This...Spam...as you Hew-Mons call it, we seem to have an over abundance of it. Perhaps a bargain could be struck to allow me to...procure it for future dealings?"

Max's brows furrowed as he tried to understand the Ferengi's request. "What was your name again," asked the Medic.

"Rata, Petty Officer Rata," was the reply. Rata seemed very eager to complete his 'transaction'.

"Well, Rata," Max said, "I don't think much consideration will be given to supplies, as the priority will be to get people out of here."

"Oh, no, no I would never suggest such a thing," Rata backpedaled, his hands up with his palms out. "However, if the opportunity presents itself, I happen to know a few people here and there that can assist with...securing this Spam."

"Um, well we don't know which ship is coming to pick us up," Max tried. He wanted to dissuade the Ferengi's attempt to make a profit, as it was becoming clear enough that he was trying to.

"Heh, don't you ever wonder why there's at least one Ferengi on board almost every Federation Starship?"

Max stared at the man in horror, as Rata laughed and offered some advice in parting.

"Think about my offer, Hew-Mon. It may be quite lucrative...for us both." He laughed again and returned to the group that was handling the grouping of survivors as Max had outlined.

Max had a sinking feeling that Rata would try and do something stupid. Really stupid.

*Always in the name of fucking profit,* he thought, disgusted. For his own part, after a long hard look at the Ferengi who had noticed and winked at him, Max decided to go back to reading for perhaps the fifth or sixth time the population breakdown on his PADD. He hoped that help would come soon...he didn't want to lose another patient for any reason. Be it by disease or...some other misconceived intervention.

"They'll Be Back..."

Captain Jaal Jaxom
Former CO, USS Carthage

==DS5, Lower Decks==

Peering into the inky blackness the gathered group watched the faint flashes of light with interest. The flashes represented their salvation and rescue. They hoped they light would come closer. They hoped to see Hydran vessels exploding with the intensity of miniature suns heralding their saviors.

Then the shooting stopped.

Immediately some people started thinking the worst.

"All right people, calm down!" Jaxom told the crowd of civilians that had gathered around other windows.

"But we're not rescued! They didn't even get close!" Someone, obviously not Starfleet personnel, wailed.

"Don't panic. One of two things happened. Either they were outgunned and had to retreat or one scout ship was sent to assess the situation. In either case, I'm sure a larger contingent is on the way. It won't be long now, that's for sure."

"How do you know?" another civilian asked.

Jaal turned towards the older man realizing he wasn't wearing his uniform. He was still in his workout clothes left over from the Carthage. The attack had interrupted a sparring match between him and the Carthage's XO. "Because I know how Starfleet operates. I'm a captain."

Of course the third option was the incoming vessel was destroyed by the Hydrans but that possibility was something Jaal would not allow himself to entertain.

"Why can't we leave on your ship then?"

"Because my ship was blown to bits during the onset of the attack," Jaal explained patiently while calling off the other fleeters present with a nod. It was important to him that the civilians knew what was going on. He felt it was his duty to explain things to them. "Believe me, if my ship was still here, we'd have been on it by now and well on our way. We tried shooting back but my ship was a small one and it was overwhelmed by Hydran fighters. One third of my crew managed to get beamed to the station before our warp core gave out."

That drew some sympathic looks from some of the people. One by one they started filing away.

"Collect what you have left. Be ready to get picked up. I estimate they'll be back in a day or so," Jaal told the last few stragglers. The Trill was sure he was right.

In the back of his mind, Jaal racked his brain trying to recall the ships that normally docked at DS5, especially the ones that were too far out to help when the attack first happened. They would be the ones coming back once the news got out that something was amiss at DS5. Elaithin Jii and the Miranda were too far out at Starbase Atlantis to do any good. Jaal turned again and stared out the window. Slowly the names of the other ships assigned to DS5 came to him, the most prominent being the Galaxy. 'M'Kantu's ship,' Jaal thought.

He'd met M'Kantu on two previous occasions, Havras and Romulus.

Had it been that ship he saw out there mere moments ago?

Hopefully, time would tell.

In the meantime, he had other fish to fry. In the event the space station couldn't be retaken, which started seeming more and more likely as time passed, Jaal was making preparations to make DS5 no more a prize than a pile of scrap metal.

He was doing it little by little, one step at a time, in a painstakingly slow manner so that no one, on either side, would notice what he was doing. In fact, by his estimation, if anyone 'did' manage to uncover his tracks, it would be either June or Aina if they didn't already suspect it.

Now, all Jaal had to do was type a command and it's confirmation into a console and ten minutes later rather nasty computer virus would be unleashed on the station rendering the facility's infrastructure completely useless. Every single file in the core, Starfleet or Hydran, would be deleted. The entirety of DS5 would be, essentially, a giant chunk of useless metal in space.

'With any luck,' the Trill thought, 'it would take out a few Hydrans too.'

Freedom isn't Free

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

USS Galaxy
Raynor's Quarters

Raynor got the unhappy flashing light from his custom cellular communicator again. It was from one of his important contacts. One his most important contacts. He had been expecting it all day... but now was the worse of the worse possible times... being only 20 minutes out from the battle that was to take place.

There was a reason why Raynor had been transfered to the Galaxy... one he hadn't discussed with anyone on board... for the majority of those on board... it really didn't matter... but for those who had managed to rise above the... 'norm'... it was a necessary function...

The Galaxy had a dozen or more crewmen with abilities or qualities that could in theory be used to enhance a sides chances of winning a war. The Galaxy had a dozen or more reasons to be the subject of grab and run attacks where various members of the crew would have to face teams who had speifically trained and equipped to capture said individuals easily. Combined with the fact that getting information was as easy as getting water out of a leaky facet for even the most moderately powerful organizations it made for some fairly tempting targets.

Starfleet intelligence had information on plans at least fifteen or more strikes having supposed to take place within the last year or so... none seemed to have made it to the Galaxy.

Of course a similar sort of circumstances applied to his previous position on board the strife. 27 different strikes were plan and launched, but never seemed to reach their target, in this case Raynor's late cat "Mittens". The one who liked to do girls behind the toilet at the supermarket.

That was a weird cat. He needed to get another one...

But now there was a War on... which would mean that he would need to pay a considerable amount more for this... service. He knew this before he even picked up the cell. The problem is without the extra discreet protection, the Galaxy my as well have a bullseye painted on it. Especially now.

So he picked up the Cell and looked at where and when his contact wanted to meet. It looked doable... assuming he lived. Otherwise the negotiation would have to take place... he sighed, this war would definetly drain the extra capital that were just sitting in his accounts.

And this was the last thing he needed with everything else that was going on. He picked out a few choice weapons in case they were boarded... and went back to the office.

"Out of Position"

OOC: During Breakout

Aboard the Royal Hydran Ship Slarrardo

Prince Thufi XXXIV commanding

"Intercept!....Move to Intercept!" Prince Thufi XXXIV thumped his meaty paw angrily into the plush leather of his command couch.

"Calculate their escape vectors and plot a tangenttial course!" he honked, the blurble of his emotion echoeing across the purple methane shrouded mists of the Main Bridge.

R.H.S. Slarrardo was churning up etherspace as her sublight impellers corkscrewed their way across the DS5 system.

Wrong side of the system Blort Take them!! Another frustrated thump on the armrest.

As a light cruiser assigned the typically unglamorous duties of screening the main body, Slarrardo was naturally deployed at the outer edges of the tactical column.

Unfortunately the blue-hulled cruiser had just finished the apogee of her circuit and was thus badly out of position when the Federation warship broke into the midst of the Hydran fleet.

"Chief Technical Officer reports we are blue-lined on all reactors my Prince" The Piloting slug qualled nervously. "Reccommend...."

"Blue-line them then!!" Thufi cracked his beak. "I dont care if we rip the impellers from their mountings, but get us within range of that Dreadnought!"

"Light of Vidication reporting weapon strikes...heavy Damage."

Thufi only glared.

"Faster!"

The bridge crew sunk to their tasks, snorting great gulps of methane in their stress, as they strived to find a balance between the Prince's demands and the limits of their little ship's design.

But Slarrardo was a sturdy ship.

Not some plodding gun-heavy carrier weighted down with fighter squadrons and superfulous gear........Slarrardo was a true pilots ship.

Fast....sleek, and instantly responsive to the demands of her crew.

Even as the Pilot stroked the colored lights on his display, the sublight impellers doubled their rpms, shooting the cruiser throught the ether like a torpedo, leaving a wake of corkscrewed ion radiation.

"Aspect change on Federation Dreadnought." Sensor Officer blorted, "She may be veering away....."

A pregnant pause......

"Definate aspect change my Prince, Dreadnought is settling on new course 251 mark 6....energy profile indicates she's shifting up to high warp."

"Brzzle them!" Thufi cursed ,"Make ready for pursuit, Slip-Drive authorized along target vector....."

It was already too late however.

Slarrardo was just too far out of position.

While she could run rings around the big old Federation Battlewagon at sublight, she just could not match the output of the huge warp nacelles.

She would go through the motions however....pursue for an hour or two.......catching was not an option.

Not advisable either considering how outgunned Slarrardo was.

Thufi XXXIV slumped his bulked deep into the Command couch.

Out of Position, brzzle it! Out of position.

OOC: Takes place right after BREAKOUT. Introducing an old character that some of you may remember......

"The War on other Fronts"

USS ZEUS - Main Bridge

The headache was there...........

The headache was always there, but it provided clarity.

Clarity to think and act despite the pain.

No distractions of fear or self-doubt, humanity or mercy, only the pain and the Math.

The Math.

That was the real secret.

God's little code on the workings of the universe, a little tag line for all to see if you had the brain power to read it.

And she did.

Oh by god she did have that brain.

"Twelve degrees port for fifteen second then down 6 for another minute and a half, prepare starboard phasers on a half second burn and execute."

The Hydran would be there......

He had no choice.....no options

He had to be there because the Math said he would.

And thats how simple it was.

90 seconds later a full broadside slammed deep into the blue hull of the Hydran battlecruiser twisting it into a glowing ember of molten metal and streaming antimatter.

"Hit....venting plasma." said Fear.

"New arrival On plot." said Panic.

The headache blurred reality into the tiny world of the glowing plot screns.

Twelve plot screens actually.

There was no traditional main viewer at the front of the snow white bridge.

There was onlt a tiny Captains chair surrounded by a dozen glowing blue monitors cris-crossed with Mathematical gibberish and plot lines......the raw unfiltered code from the primary sensors that more perfectly described what was going on outside than any tactical display.

You had to look at a tactical display.....you had to think about what you saw there......you had to make decisions based on what you thought the enemy was going to do.

Rubbish.

The Math display was better. It was always true, for there was no lies in math.

It was.

If you could add two plus two you could win any battle.

"Z plus 10,000 for 8 seconds then pitch down 14 with a 5 kilometer sideslip to the left, lock on with tractors and pull aft.... fire aft Torpedos two seconds later....."

A slight lurch in ships gravity as the ZEUS twisted its way intot he unusual manuver, and a small bark of torpedo launchers....

"Hit.....dorsal shielding at 20%" said Fear.

"Fighters incoming at point 8...on your plot." said Panic.

Fighters were easy.

A quick scribble of plot vectors......flatten the probability cone.....carry the two.......and

"Multiple hits......6 down.....two adrift." said Fear.

"Uh.....Incoming....uh...Incoming Transmission Ma'am" said Panic a bit of surprise creeping into her voice, "Federation codes.....The USS Galaxy"

Captain Rebecca von Ernst of the USS ZEUS looked up from her array of plot monitors and twisted in her command chair to look at the two bridge officers.

The Zues....a top of the line Prometheus class combat vessle was unlike any other ship in the fleet. The bridge had been stripped of all extraneous distractions leaving bare white bulkheads devoid of machinery, and a mere three officers.

In the center sat von Ernst, the slim pixie-like redhead with freckle-dusted nose and watery brown eyes.

Flanking her on either side were the two officer charged with following her evey whim.

Fear and Panic, they called them after the handmaidens of Ares....the Greek god of War.

The goddess of war in this case.....

"G...g.....galaxy?" Rebecca breathed in her whispery voice. The stutter that crept occasionally into her speech reemerging after so many years.

"Aye and.....uh....Hydran destroyer at point 6 on your plot." said Panic.

Rebecca whipped her head around to the mathmatical gibberish on the tweleve screens, picking up the destroyer as a string of ineger variables forming up into a probability cone of tactical responses and vectors.....

......divide by four.....then take the square root......

"Um.....transition left 500 kilometers fire starboard phaser two second burn, twist around on the recipricol heading and take us to Warp 2........that'll give us....uh....three...four..carry the six....that'll give us 5 minutes of peace before he comes around again."

"Transitioning aye." said Fear "Destroyer falling aft."

"R....r...right." Rebecca rubbed her tiny head, the headache pounding in her brain unmercifully . "Cut through the jamming and answer that h....h....hail."

~~~Noodles....one call from the Galaxy and I'm stuttering again like I have not done in years.~~~

"Aye....onscreen." said Panic.

********************************

Get them back....." M'Kantu barked uncharacteristically. Not normally a man of ill temper, the whole situation with June, and the incessant buffeting the Galaxy was taking was enough to put any man off his game.

Galaxy was just peeling away from her scouting pass on DS5 leaving on Hydran cruiser burning in her wake......but she was badly outgunned, and needed backup if she was gonna rescue those survivors.

"Jamming at the source sir," Jamson almost barked back from his vibrating OPs Panel. "Still... I think I can bridge our transmission onto their own... there it is...."

As if on cue, the battle-damaged main viewer crackled into life displaying the familiar carrier wave of Federation Fleet Communications protocols.

"Carrier Wave ID's as USS Zeus......Prometheus Class......ah....damn." Jamson's face fell as his readouts already conveyed his worst fears. "Ah... sorry sir. Doppler shift on the carrier wave is already showing her a lot farther out than we were expecting... she must have one hell of a communications suite to burn through all this garbage at this distance.

Daren M'Kantu gritted his jaw and stared unblinking at the fuzzy screen. "Very well. Hail the Zeus anyway - at least we can try to relay a message through to Admiral Price.

Nodding....."On screen now sir."

The holo crackled and hissed, dissolving onto one of the most unusual bridge configurations Daren had ever seen.

White. They'd painted the Prometheus bridges white.

Pure white as a matter of fact, seeming as cold and as sterile as hospital operating room with only three figures in black to provide stark contrast to its purity.

"This is Captain Daren M'Kantu of the USS Galaxy," he began strongly, "Its good to see a friendly face Cap...."the word faded away from Daren's lips as he focused on the figure sitting center seat aboard the Zeus.

"Rebecca...."

Perched cross-legged and pixie-like in an oversized chair of pure white, the wee slip of a girl unfolded her slender limbs and rose in greeting to her full height of barely 5 feet.

The Zeus' Captain nodded slowly, a wisp of red hair falling daintily across a brilliantly freckled nose, while deep watery brown eyes never lost there focus off of her counterpart.

"Rebecca," M'Kantu repeated, fighting off the urge to find a seat. "Captain?"

"Captain von Ernst of the USS Zeus at your service, Captain," Rebecca confirmed, her soft whispery voice just as he remembered it from almost four years ago.

Fidgeting nervously under the gaze of her old CO, the tiny redhead awkwardly gestured towards her sparkling white bridge, "Uh... guess what they gave me?"

"Captain?"

"Uh.....yeah.....Ta-Da!" she took a hesitant little bow.

~~~Ta-Da? Noodles girl....you sound like a 5 year old.~~~

A blush rose in her freckled cheeks.

"Congratulations, Rebecca." Really, what else *could* he say? The woman was a tactical - and literal - genius, and Allah knew they needed all of those traits now.

The tiny girl blushed. Although you couldn't really call her a girl, not any more. Rebecca was 30 now, and while she still remained toothpick thin and youthful in the face, there was something else... something haggard and worn out behind her eyes.

Maybe she was still having the headaches

"I'm sure I already know the answer, but can you give me your best estimate on transit time to DS5?" Daren asked," We just made a scouting run and have four Hydran ships of the line mad as hell."

"Ah gee....Noodles Captain....Six days." Rebecca answered without consulting the console.

Shrugging she added, "Three and a h...h....half if we really push it....but....." As if on cue static fuzzed the screen and the bridge of the Zeus shook under heavy weapons fire. Catching her balance awkwardly, Captain von Ernst turned an unhappy glare on one of her flanking crewmembers. "Noodles.... but we seem to be having... uh... problems of our own." Turning she said, "Panic, I said 3 degrees to port. not 2, and prepare for Offensive pattern Ernst-bunny-foo-foo-snowflake."

Turning back to her former Captian, Rebecca shrugged again. "The T... Triad is advancing along a broad front, and while DS5 , Corvallis, and Cardassia are the main thrusts we've been kept busy blocking any 'leakers'; we're engaged with a flotilla now."

"I'm afraid that we're not going to be able to wait that long," Daren said with an air of resignation. It had, after all, been a faint hope.

While she talked, Rebecca's brown eyes were scanning the bridge behind Daren seeing out any familiar faces. She had been the Galaxy XO four years ago and still remembered the manifest.

There was a new redhead sitting at the Captain's right hand.......Ensign Iniara? Newly transferred just as Rebecca had left the ship.

The Ops Officer was unfamiliar, but that scary Darkstar Indian was at Navigation now. She didn't recognize the counselor, but the Science officer in the back was... 8-Ball? Rebecca scrunched her freckled nose in distaste. Momma had always warned her about those kinda girls.

Her eyes flicked over to the back of the bridge and her old station at tactical. Corran Rex, the old Ops guy... and next to him at Security.

James Corgan.

Rebecca almost blushed again.

"In which case," Daren continued," I need you to pass on a message and some data regarding the situation at DS5 and my intentions to Admiral Price in case things don't go well here." He keyed up the data packet he'd prepared on his chair console. "Are you receiving well enough for a secured data packet?"

A glance over her shoulder and Fear nodded.

"Right then." Daren nodded to his own officers to begin the transmission, "Here's our current sensor logs and plans......forward them to Admiral Price and....well."

The Captian of the Galaxy almost had to smile. He wasnt dealing with his skittish little Rebecca who jumped at her own shadow anymore....."You'll know what to do Captain."

Rebecca nodded absently, the pain of the headache almost faded as a deeper pain ached in her heart. So many familiar faces on the other bridge.....

"A...aye." was all she could manage.

The connection broke leaving the stark white bridge of the Zues silent save for the breathing of the three crew.

"Ma'am?" asked Fear.

Panic raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"As....as you were." Rebecca rubbed a speck of dirt that had somehow gotten in her eyes, "Give me my plots.....there's a War going on."

OOC - occurs immediately after 'Manslaugher'. Sorry for the lag, dudes!

"Grounded"

Lt. Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu, CAG
Flight Officer Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelina
Flight Officer Taev

Main Shuttlebay, USS Galaxy

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

For all the hundreds of thousands of broken pieces of shuttles, fighters, equipment and ordnance, what was left of the large bay was unnaturally quiet, the only sound being the steady, deep hum of the Galaxy's powerful warp engines. Flickering lights being fed from broken relays strobed, showing flashes of the carnage and the wreckage of the Vanguard squadron, shattered by no enemy wing but by the machinations of a psychopath.

"Most... regrettable."

Taev looked up wide-eyed at the Nassari CAG, not believing his lobes? "Regrettable?? This isn't regrettable! Having gas over a Sluggo-cola in the company of a female's regrettable! This is a disaster... sir!" The Ferengi was breathing in short, shallow gasps and felt like he had swallowed too many sligs raw.

"We live, and starfighters can be repaired pilot", Jarajen Quaaliu replied quietly, his eyes fixed on the chaos. "Our minds and wills make us deadly, Taev - the fighter is merely the instrument of our intent. Admittedly, these instruments have seen better days."

Ella sighed audibly, not caring if anyone heard the sound. The task facing them was daunting but not impossible. She was going to need a lot of coffee though.

Feet scraped on the deck behind them as another pilot joined them, stopping next to Taev to survey the wreckage strewn across the Flight Deck. "I think they would have done less damage if they'd used a bomb," Angelienia said quietly as she stood there, her flight helmet hanging from one hand by its strap. "How many replacements do we still have in storage? Enough to at least get one wing into space?"

The Nassari CAG shook his head. "Unlikely. The only operational craft are two administrative shuttles that would make most excellent targets for Hydran wings. Operations is occupied with rigging the ship for fighting trim and cannot be spared for the cleanup. If progress is to begin, we must do it ourselves." With that, Jarajen took a few noisy steps into the metal and plastic debris, literally wading towards the wreckage of his starfighter. "Start by taking a physical assessment of your craft - give Ops something to work with. Then?" He looked down at the mass of shards, parts, and tools at his feet. "We sort through this.... material and salvage what may be of use."

Angelienia started towards her ship. "We're going to need to use the ship's bulk industrial replicators to fabricate parts and fighter sections for sure, though. Can we get bumped to the top of the queue for that? It might be faster easier to simply break down most of this mess and just replicate new parts if we get priority." She glanced towards Ella. "You're the one with engineering experience, Ella; what do you think?"

Ella thought that they'd be given top priority given that they were the first line of defense and she wrote them so.

"Good," Angelienia nodded. "That'll make this a lot easier." She made her way around the wreckage of a shuttle, her voice carrying over it. "I know that someone checked all this mess for leaking reactor coolant and damaged warp cores... right?"

"The pilot's concerns about the bay are unneccessary", Quattro offered from the far side of the chamber. "Concerns will be saved for parts and replacement equipment. In the grand scheme of things, fighter squadrons like those on the Galaxy are distant in Command's thoughts - far more appealing are the new supercarriers coming out of development." With allthe effort of all four arms and both legs, he managed to pry open the hatch to his fighter's cockpit momentarily filling the shuttlebay with a matallic scream. Resting, he managed a glance back at his pilots. "Galaxy will be relied upon to act more as a ship-of-the line, and both Engineering and Ops will be bent towards that tactical end. For now... we are on our own."

The Nassari's dark eyes took in the activities of his group, scanning each flier as they went about their salvage. Even amongst the carnage, Quattro's senses were sharp.

"Where is pilot Davidson?"

"Thoughts"

Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia
4th Platoon (Heavy Weapons) CO

Man'darr stood in the gymnasium, shirtless as his muscles contracted and relaxed with each slow, fluid, controlled swing of the large Capellan K'Sath War Sword. This was a way for him to relax at the anger within him. His Marines in his Platoon were being used as Security--they were not Security officers. His Marines were trained to fight the enemy and use their specialized weapons against the enemy, not walk around on a ship! Then there was the matter that angered him most. Starfleet had left the survivors on the Starbase! More people left behind! he thought angerly as he let out roar, swinging the K'Sath Sword at a nearby bamboo tree trunk, cleanly slicing the tree in half hortizontally. He closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself as his arm continued to twirl and swing the large sword without a break in its motion from the strike. He soon heard the gym doors open.

"The Special Place"

Lt. JG. Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Location: Zamora's Office

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

Her fingers delicately reached out, straightening the padd on the corner of the desk so it was flush with the desk surface. Everything....everything in it's place....no exceptions. The thought recycled through her head over and over again. It had been drilled into her head so many times that it popped up with out permission. Anything would trigger the warning for perfection.

Zamora's dark eyes darted from the left corner of her office, down the length of all four walls, then finally came to rest on the door. The walls were a plain egg shell watered down color, meant to inform visitors that business was conducted between the walls on a daily basis.

"It's okay...." Ophelia told herself, then swallowed the bile she felt rising in her throat. It was coming...another one. Any attempt to stop it just made it worse. Closing her eyes, her face grew white as she sat in the chair that belonged to her predecessor. Her fingers reached out to grasped the arm rests on her chair as she swallowed again.

It was so easy to hear his voice in her head. It haunted her to the point of desperation. He wasn't here! He was gone...back in Tuscany with no way of boarding a ship such as the Galaxy. He could come here! Easily! Come and trap her yet again, this time with no means of escape.

Her breathing accelerated from a resting pace to a rapid inhale and exhale. "Oh god...." Zamora muttered as she stood, pushing the chair backward. She heard his voice in her head, screaming at her as he usually did.

"Your not here!" She rasped feeling herself step back into the left corner of her office. Her hands shot out behind her to feel for the secure corner of the wall then slid to her side. They slowly ran up and down her hips as a sign of nervousness. With her back to the wall, she started to gasp for breath, her eyes filling with tears.

"Your not here! You are not here Antonio....you can't hurt me.....you can't....." Her words hit the empty air with a heaviness as she slid down the wall to a sitting position. Hands, delicate as roses shielded her face as the tears fell. Part of her knew she was away and safe, the other part knew she feared for her own life and no part of the Galaxy or a ship that bared it's name was going to provide enough security for her to live beyond the fear.

Tugging the sleeves on her uniform upwards, her eyes fell upon long scars that decorated her forearms and palms. They were her battle scars, the scars of the past that never went away. Taking her index finger on her right hand, she traced the long thin pink scars that made her skin rough and experienced with the pain of abuse.

He was capable of so much....so much hurt...physical and emotional pain. And, he had the strength to enact that, to break her soul, to keep her behind the bars of his invisible prison, and to break her heart every time she looked into his hardened eyes full of hatred towards her.

Her hands started to shake. The second phase of the panic attacks that Zamora had grown to live with. Her eyes closed, then opened wishing that her mind would stop his incessant screaming. It was the most dramatic incident of their time together, the first time she stopped loving him, the first time she realized that a heart can physically break. The pain of her heart realizing the truth about her husband was stronger that pain she felt as the shards of glass from the door sliced her palms and arms.

She had attempted to correct herself as she fell from his punch, and she did so to a point which angered him to no end. It had happened in a split moment, the violent push that forced her against the ancient glass of the sliding door of the villa that they had shared. Before she knew it, she felt the cool stones of her patio below her. It contrasted greatly with the warm fluid that fell from her and pooled around her staining the stones that he had put in the ground himself.

He said nothing meant of love, only...."Get up you whore...and clean yourself up. Do not go to the medical center....I don't need you blubbering about this....."

"I did the best I could...." Ophelia whimpered as her fingers caressed her scars. "I did....the best...." Her voice trailed off as the memory of picking glass out of her wounds shot into her head. It was all surreal to her at the time, the way she left her body and went to her special place. As much as she tried, that place died the day she left him. Now, all she was left with was the memories of what happened.

The woman felt lost, but saved at the same time.

"So This Is Goodbye?"

Faylin McAllister
For'kel Arvelion

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

For'kel's ship board patrol brought him to Ten Forward. Quite frankly there was only so much time one could spend in a windowless closet of an office, and he'd checked quite a few places for security purposes before finding his way here. The ship's security department had an excellent grasp on things... For'kel wasn't anticipating on being needed, at least not until the shooting started and some kind of rescue mission (which he never once doubted would occur) was mounted to recover the survivors (which he still didn't doubt existed) from Deep Space 5. However much force it would take, the Hydran forces would be made to understand you didn't just randomly attack people.

In the lower-powered state of the Galaxy, Ten Forward was designated a 'black-out' area. It was a bit unsettling to see the large, cavernous bay unpopulated, lights out, with only a single dimly lit control panel not even emitting sufficient light to see your hands before your eyes to provide any illumination. Well that, and the rather glorious light-show display that were the stars streaking past. Were it not for the stars, the room would probably have been so pitch black as to make any kind of vision impossible. With them though, it was impossible to turn away from the giant bay windows. It was a pleasant way of staying calm before a fight, most certainly.

He heard the foot-steps fall behind the door, and turned just in time to spot someone else entering. "Taking one last look before the fight?"

"You can say that." Fay responded quietly. "Just coming to say goodbye. I've retired."

The doors slid shut behind her, hushing as if to encourage the two occupants to remain quiet in what was said or done. For'kel certainly seemed to abide fate's wish momentarily, taking a long moment to take in that fact before replying. "In the middle of a war? Why now, if you don't mind me asking?"

"There will always be a war, there will always be conflict. Now is a good of time as any." She stated simply.

It didn't have to be said that For'kel respectfully disagreed. He pulled out two chairs, figuring there was no reason for them to be standing. "If this is about that jack ass who hit you, trust me when I say he won't be a member of my unit again."

McAlister just grinned. It was a smile of knowing knowledge. "I know." She stated with a slight chuckle. "And no, he's not why I'm leaving." Fay leaned back slightly on her chair. "Starfleet is just not for me Fork."

"I don't know about that. The woman I met on Romulus seemed exactly like the kind of officer that epitomized the iconic Starfleet officer, and everything that was 'right' with the Federation and it's service." He shrugged almost childishly, knitting his fingers together in his lap. "So, what changed?"

"I'm not Fleet. Period. I never was the iconic Starfleet officer........what I am is someone that you wouldn't want to know."

"Does that include telepath?" Fork smirked, resorting to sarcasm to ease an uncomfortable situation as was normally his way. "Otherwise it's probably best that you let me determine who I do, and don't, want to know." Before she could say anything else, he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "So where are you off to now?"

"Beyond the great divide." She replied sarcastically. "I've had another job offer."

"More important than here?" Fork raised his eyebrow. "What kind of job is it?"

Fay's hand instinctively went up and rubbed the newly tattoo'd crow that rested on the back of her neck. "It's complicated." McAlister turned to avoid his eyes as she wrapped her hair up into a high ponytail. "It's.....well......a private group."

Fork blinked a couple of times, entirely unsure precisely as to what 'that' meant. "I suppose it wouldn't do any good to remind you that there are people here counting on you not only for their survival, but for the continuation of everything more valuable than life itself?"

"Oh for crap sake Fork! Who? I'm an attorney, remember? I'm not volunteering this time....hell no. I can't be buried under rubble...and all that shit....I'm needed like a hole in the head."

"You're another phaser in a fire fight. Another orderly in a medical emergency, or possible pilot in the event of an evacuation." He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "You're also a great friend, one I'd give my life for in an instant, and one of a select few who I would trust to watch over my family, should something happen." He gave one of his innocent and slightly naive smiles. "You're a better person than you give yourself credit for, Faylin."

"Look, I have to go.....do me a favor Fork.....watch out for Baile will you? He's dangerous." Fay offered a small smile before turning to go.

He grabbed her hand. "So this is goodbye?" The unasked question behind the words clear by the Stagnorian's inflection... a desire to know if she planned on ever returning, or was on a one way trip.

Fay's eyes softened incredibly as she squeezed his hand. "Yes.....it is goodbye...." The whisper of the words she spoke held so many secrets that only she knew.

They were secrets, For'kel perceived, better left to private realms. If she wanted to say something, she would say it. There was a time for prying, and this was not it. Instead he gave a simple, if sad smile. "In that case, buestanna afidav. As they say, 'don't be a foreigner'."

McAlister giggled a rare giggle. "Don't be a stranger Fork.....in a way, we are all foreigners."

There was nothing more he could think to say or do, save offering a slight blush at his misspeak. Before he could think of anything else, as was often her way, Faylin was gone... the doors closing behind her and blotting out her form. "Well, I guess we'll always have Romulus." the joke falling on deaf ears, or rather no ears. It was time to grab his rifle and get back to work.

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