"Preparation"

CMC Madden Jayce
Chief of the Boat

--

Deep Space Five.

In Madden Jayce's opinion, the place should have been blown out of the sky a long time ago. So many horrible things had happened there over the years, not the least of which was the destruction of every member of its crew two years earlier.

Every member except her.

She sat quietly in the Goat Locker, staring out the window at the passing stars as she held the coffee cup between her hands. The steam from the fresh poured cup curled up into the air bringing the hazelnut aroma with it.

The Locker was empty, as was the enlisted crew's mess to which it was attached. Given that it was in the middle of a shift, that wasn't particularly surprising. Everyone was sleeping or working, doing what they needed to do to prepare for the assault that was coming.

The Hydrans at the hell hole of that damned station.

She sipped her coffee, the thoughts drifting around her. A few sets stood out: thoughts from one she was keeping tabs on, from one she was tired of hearing, from one who was terrified. Senior staff members and junior officers primarily. Not her people. They went about their business, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. They secured access tubes, checked relay readings, double-checked weapons lockers and other supplies. They battened down the hatches. That was their job. Keep the ship ready and steady.

The Command Master Chief took another sip of coffee. The warmth spread through her body. The anxiety was making her cold. It always did. It was the waiting that was hard, the build up, the anticipation. Once the first shot went off, that would all be forgotten, her training would kick in and it would just be a matter of getting it done. Surviving and ensuring the survival of those around you. It always happened that way.

Some of the kids didn't know that yet. It was something that became clearer with experience.

Jayce sighed and stood, finishing the coffee and moving toward the line to place it for reclamation. She tugged at her uniform sleeves and pulled her zipper up as she moved out of the room and on back through to the hallways. As though on autopilot she found herself in the turbolift, going up to the bridge.

She should have been in that senior staff meeting, though it might end up being easier this way.

"Captain," she said, her voice low. "I was wondering if I might be able to speak with you a moment."

~Hiring a Babysitter~

Nathan Everett
Thyago Carneiro

"Hey, Sundance!" Thyago called out across the room. Nate cringed as he heard the accented voice, and turned to see the Brazilian moving through the throngs of people crammed into the large bay, making a beeline for his position.

The USS Galaxy had come in an attempt to save the lot of them. They had some how managed to distract the Hydrans on and orbiting the station long enough to launch a fleet of marines and shuttles to the station. At this very moment, the marines were busy cutting through the hull of the station so they come aboard and, presumably, get the refugees off. Nate had come down to see how he could help, and possibly see if he could get out and onto a fighter.

"Hey, yerself," Cowboy said, sparing a moment to look at Thyago. It was then he noticed that Thyago was not alone. He was being followed by a grotesque monstrosity of a creature - a large, furry rat-like alien, with a large Quasimodo hunch back and thin, chaotic jagged teeth.

"Dude, where ya been, mano?" Thyago asked, "Continuously fighting Hydrans for the last day or so?"

Before Nate could answer, Thyago and the man-sized rodent leaned in and sniffed at his clothes. "Eeww, Tex, you smell."

"BAAAAAAAAN!" the creature behind him errupted.

"Yeah, you smell bad," Thyago agreed.

Nathan reflexively flinched away from the repulsive creature, as well as the hunchback following him. "You don't exactly smell lahk roses yerself, Twinkletoes," the pilot retorted. "What's goin' on? Ah heard we finally might be gettin' outta here soon..."

"Yeah, the Galactica, or something, has come on a rescue mission. They've launched marines. They're cutting through the hull over there. I think the plan is to go an take down the shields for this part of the station and then, pum, beam everyone over to their ship," Thyago said.

"Great!" Cowboy exclaimed. Thyago looked like he had more to say, so Nathan refrained from bulling past him and the man...rat...thing, and frowned at him. "What?"

"Well, so, Pontos and Stormy want to take one of their shuttles over to the shipyards. Apparently, the Hydrans didn't destroy them. So, she wants us to hotwire one of the ships and then remotely control the others, or something crazy like that, and help distract the Hydrans. They need an engineer, so they've recruited me."

"Okay..." Nathan murmured, looking away from Thyago and towards the hull where the Marines were cutting through.

"Mickey, here, won't leave me alone," Thyago explained. "He'll just get in the way if he goes--"

"BAAAAAAAAN!" Mickey added suddenly.

"Yeah, the mission'll totally bomb if he goes. So, I need you to watch him for me."

Nathan's head snapped back toward Thyago, his blue eyes going wide with shock. "Wait, what?"

"You just have to watch him until they beam him over to the starship."

"You gotta be kiddin'..."

"Come on, Lone Star! He's cute, you know? You can use him like a little puppy. Chicks dig cute little puppies. Or, rather, cute little man-sized rodentia. And, let's face it, Tex. You need all the help you can get," Thyago said.

"BAAAAAAAAN!" Mickey agreed.

"Right, right, y'all got a shuttle mission thingy y'all're goin' on. Who's flyin' the thing?"

The Brazillian shrugged. "I dunno," he said, "I think Azulinho."

"Who the hell's that?"

"The Andorian in the white night gown."

Nathan blinked. "Y'all went and got some random Andorian in a nightgown to fly you out there 'stead of comin' to me? That hurts, man."

"Well, you were off galavanting with Sheriff Smitty. You know, killing Hydrans and stuff. I guess. Look, dude, I don't know. They just told me a little while ago, I wasn't part of the planning."

The pilot sighed. "Alright, fine, Ah'll take him."

"Awesome!" Thyago smiled. "Okay, his name is Mickey and he likes cheesy crackers and sniffing things. And all he says is 'baaaaan.'"

"BAAAAAAAAN!"

"Yeah, like that," he added. "Okay, I gotta go. Catch you later. Assuming we don't all die." Then he ran away, leaving Nate alone with the large rat. He casually sniffed at Nate again and then frowned through his snaggled teeth.

Nathan flinched away from Mickey and turned to watch Thyago go. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair, feeling more than a little useless at the moment.

"BAAAAAAAAN!" Mickey suddenly cried out, stepping beside Nathan and watching the engineer run off.

"Yeah, Ah got a bad feelin' about this, too," Cowboy muttered.

OOC: Occurs in the first Galaxy fly-by at DS5.

"Salvation?"

Ens. Artim Shivar
Cmdr. Veziran Solas (PCC)

With

Plt. Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari

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

<<DS5 Lower Decks>>

"Dammit," Artim cursed quietly as he limped slowly towards where the medical aid station was located. The Miran's leg was in really bad shape. Even though the medic he met earlier had managed to fix the wounded limb up enough to keep him in the fight, eventually he found the wound was deeper then even he thought. Now every step sent a sharp lance of pain up Artim's leg and he thought it best to retire to the safe zone in the bowels of DS5. He could walk though so an escort wasn't needed. As he limped down a corridor he saw a familiar figure walking towards him. Elrin's furry pointed ears and elongated snout made him stick out easily and to Artim it was a sight for sore eyes, or legs in this case.

When he saw the limping 'kid' Elrin rushed to his side.

"Need a hand? Wow, that leg looks bad. Anything I can do?"

"Na...I'm...YEOWCH!" Artim said as his next step caused his left leg to buckle. Elrin was there to help him back to his feet as Artim continued. "On second thought, if you could help me back to the aid station I'd be grateful."

"Sure, but I think I can do a little better. Found something in the cargo bay right over there you might be interested in," Elrin said eagerly his eyes looked down the corridor.

"Oh, well, lets go then." Artim said as he wrapped an arm around the vulpine's waist to take the weight off his now useless leg.

Slowly the pair made their way towards the door...and as luck would have it, ran abruptly into a vaguely female form in Starfleet black.

Well, technically it was the woman who ran into them, but...

"Shit!" Veziran hissed as she reacted a second too late, glancing off the furrier of the pair only to ricochet into the nearest wall, bouncing immediately off the smooth surface on the way to the equally smooth floor. "Oof!"

"That'll teach me to look where I'm going," Veziran muttered, rolling over onto her back and attempting to pick herself up. Getting slowly to her feet she continued, "Sorry about that. I'm..."

"OUCH!" Artim shrieked as the impact had caused his weight to shift causing his leg to send an arcing pain up his body in protest.

Artim's outburst caused her to stop midsentence, and she quirked her head to the side in an odd expression as she tried to figure out from where she remembered his face. A look of confusion melted into one of recognition as memories from earlier in the year, memories of Orions and deep sea fishing and really, really, ridiculously beat up ships, came flooding back.

"Dr. Artim, right?"

"Sorry, yeah, that's me. Commander Solas right? One of Proctor's staffers."

"Yeah..." Veziran looked up at the ceiling as a low rumble reverberated through the station. Apparently someone was out there trying to take back the station. She wondered who it was...and how many ships they had brought with them.

"Well glad to know someone topside made it. I think foxy here was about to show me something interesting, right?" Artim said looking to Elrin.

"Name's Elrin and more then something interesting...it appears someone left us a way out of here in the cargo bay," the vulpinoid replied.

"What, a ship, down here? How the hell?" Artim looked up with a look of surprise as the trio slipped into the small bay.

"Hah!" Veziran exclaimed, jogging up to the ship and placing a hand on its hull. It wasn't much, but it looked sturdy enough to get them the hell out of the station before it fell apart. She turned back to her companions. "Can either of you fly this piece?"

"First and more important question, will it fly?" Artim said as he limped his way into the bay supporting himself on Elrin.

"Yes to both questions. I'd just finished a preflight on the thing before it occured to me that I should take someone with me." Elrin replied with an embarrassed look on his face. "Anyway, it looks like the prior owners, though their cleanliness is lacking, put some enhancements on her that might help us out. Hull has sensor scattering material and it looks like the transporters would punch through shields if one got close enough."

"Smuggler's boat. Seen em before back in the day," Artim replied though Elrin gave him a look of confusion. "We should get a move on. if someone is out there now would be a time to meet up with them."

"Right..." Veziran looked around as the trio climbed into the vessel. The bridge was unbelievably cramped, stuffed with equipment and modifications that no vessel this age should have had. She whistled appreciatively and slid into one of the available chairs, critically examining the console's layout. "Not bad. Alright, let's get this thing fired up. Elrin, you take the helm. Artim, man the weapons console...we may need to blast our way out of here if I can't get the doors open."

"No problem," he replied after he had taken the time to gingerly situate himself at the weapons console. "This stuff may be sophisticated, but none of it is particularly new."

From the pilot's seat at the fore of the tiny bridge, Elrin reported, "Ship's systems are coming online now. Commander, if you could open the bay doors..."

"Working on it." Veziran frowned as her fingers flew across the console. "Whatever the Hydrans did...it's wiped out all of our command codes, but..." She sighed angrily before continuing. "This had to have been an inside job...very thorough, but they forgot one tiny detail..."

"What's that?" Elrin asked, looking over his shoulder at his companions.

"Some of us are older than the systems these stations run on. When someone comes in and removes all the new doors and the old doors too...we simply dig up the really really old doors." She tapped a final sequence of keystrokes. "Like so."

Before them, the double doors of the auxiliary bay began to slide apart. Veziran grinned and looked at Artim. "I guess age does have its advantages, eh?"

Artim snorted, then returned his focus to his own console. "If you say so. Weapons systems are all online."

"Let's hope we don't need them. I'm activating the sensor screen now. Elrin, whenever you're ready...let's get the hell out of here."

"Aye, sir. Getting the hell out right...now."

And as the tiny ship sped out of the bay and away from the station towards what they hoped would be their salvation, one tiny thought nibbled at the edge of Veziran's thoughts. That was rather easy...

"Russian Roulette"

Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile - CO 1st Platoon SFMC Furies

Faylin McAlister
Civy

Location:Baile's Personal Quarters

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

She stood outside his door as a he that Baile would recognize.The lopsided grin that was plastered on her...his face was not like him and the attempt at frowning with a military flare only made her snigger quietly. Clearing her throat, the woman transformed her voice into a booming male baritone voice. "Baile.....I need to speak with you."

As she waited, she suppressed the sudden urge to adjust herself.'Gross....' Fay muttered. She never understood the need to 'move the package' around as a male. Fortunately, she didn't take the time create' one. It was one muscle she didn't plan on using anytime soon.

Emptiness was all there was now and yet the emptiness was filled with more than he had carried in his entire life. It
had been a while since she had left him alone. He was still sitting in the same place as he had sat down in after the door closed. Just sitting. Breathing.Trying to remember a time when he had been... normal.

At first he didn't hear the voice or rather didn't register it. But nothing lasts forever. Slowly he raised his head. The faint starlight from outside reflected in his eyes. He had never heard the voice. It wasn't one of the marines. He knew those by heart. He cocked an eyebrow. "Come in..."

She entered, then instantly transformed in front of him. She studied him for a moment before speaking softly. "Hi."

He saw her clearly in the darkness. Watched her change. Still he just sat there. Last time they had met she had pushed him far enough for her to see that which he spent every minute struggling against. The knowledge had proved to be quite painful. Now that same man sat in the dark, concentrating on simply breathing. It had all spiralled out of control. Their meeting had turned into a monster with a life of its own.

"What do you want?" he said with a tired voice. Everyone wanted something. Starfleet, Marines, Bental, Dhani, Smith and now Fay.Everyone had an agenda. "Just checking in on you."

Her soft voice drifted through the air of their surroundings. "And apologize.....I know that I pushed you too far...something I've been known to do." McAlister paused before motioning to sit beside him. "May I?"

A nod. Her scent brought back a faint echo of the anger she had awoken inside of him earlier. It wasn't a memory he was particularly proud of. "I'm... sorry as well.. " Both had lost control over the situation. She wasn't the only one to blame.

A slight smile was hidden in the dimness as Fay sat. "We both....are very similar in some ways."

He just grunted. Her statement was correct. To some degree but it wasn't the sort of topic one debated. 'I'm more fucked up than you are.. no I am.. no, I'm even more..' About as fruitful as saying 'my dad's stronger than your dad..' Who gave a shit?

Reaching up with a gentle touch, Fay traced the line that composed the base of his neck. "I've retired....although I'm sure you have heard."

For the first time he moved, turned his head until he looked her in the eyes. "Retired? No, I haven't heard.. Bental likes to keep his pets locked up.. One could suspect he's worried someone else might fall and trip.. "

"I'm not any one's 'pet' Baile." She half snorted in return as she removed her finger from it's duty. Straightening her posture somewhat, she returned his gaze with a soft ferocity. "I just wanted to let you know.....but....I know you don't give a fuck."

'You lay in the bed you prepare' he said to himself.

"I've been recruited actually...." Pausing her gaze drifted over to the console he had in his quarters. Glancing back, she arched an eyebrow. "Someone had to replace you....."

The words caught his attention and he raised his head. The turmoil of emotions in his head faded. He had a good idea of what she was talking about. "Jesus wept.. Fay.. You've no idea what you're getting yourself into.."

She curled her legs up underneath her and sat cross legged beside him. "I'm the only female among a bunch of guys.....I can't turn that down." Fay responded in jest. Scratching the newly embedded tatoo at the back of her neck, her eyes shifted up and she caught him still looking at her. "What?"

"You're an adult.. so you can do what the hell you want.. " he sounded sad as he spoke. "But just remember - I've warned you... If you try and play games with Smith he'll have you killed."

Loose ends (A back post...sorta!)

With High Chief Raven Darkstar, the head of the navigation department.

Also included are the man, the myth, the legend himself, interstellar ladies man Captain Leo Streely, Starfleet Heroism In Tactics Specialist (remember Leo was given his honorary rank and title 2 missions ago!), and various Vulcan NPCS.

Location: Mount Seleya, Vulcan

Time: Before the Hydran attack on DS5, and during the Manslaughter Arc.
(Yeah I know. Jesus Christ, Joe. Keep up or be left behind!)

The leather skinned former security officer's impressive size was made more mythical by the exaggerated shadows that flickered across the stone walls every time a warm, faint breeze blew across the flame. Sweat beaded across the man's frame yet he showed no signs of discomfort.

S'Lan calmly folded his hands upon one another.

"The memories, thoughts and emotions are splintered. I can not completely grasp the alien katra. His condition is beyond my ability to effect repair."

Raven's face darkened. He reached down and picked up the second stone stool. He hefted it weight and began to move towards Leo.

"I believe I can help focus his thought patterns the old fashioned way."

"Hold, giant. There may yet be a way. I shall have to call upon T'aint. She is very unorthodox, yet more....sensitive then I am in certain regards. She will be better equipped to successfully navigate this one's...unique neural patterns." S'lan said nodding to one of the Temple associates. The younger man bowed and then briskly left the chamber.

Moments later a seductive young Vulcan priestess entered the cave.

She was smaller then the average Vulcan. Her body was toned and lithe. You could see lean muscle corded around her tiny frame.

With no regard to modesty, the woman shed her ceremonial robes and stood before Leo's slumbering body wearing nothing but the ancient Vulcan glyphs painted on her naked body.

Red flags shot up in Darkstar's conscious immediately. He took a step forward and reached out. Leo had a way about him where practically the most mundane interaction with people spiraled into chaos. Should he wake up to see the nude Vulcan woman.....

"I do not think this is a good...."

"You must not touch Taint." S'Lan said. "As I said, she is extremely sensitive. Because of this, she has limited her contact to simply that of those needing her unique ability."

Raven watched as the young woman writhed and danced as if hearing a sort of music that only she can hear.

Her movements had a hypnotic effect on the indian, bringing back fractures of his own fading alien memories.

Hours prior, S'lan had removed a katra from Darkstar himself during which Raven found that the memories he had assimilated had been those of the father of a young Vulcan revolutionary who went on to be considered by many to be the founder of the Romulan Tal Shiar.

The Indian also learned that his katra's wife had imbedded her essence into Leo Streely.

The mere thought of the little man awakening with the knowledge that for all intents and purposes, he was married to the navigation chief could create a bit of a sticky situation.

The USS GALAXY's Captain M'Kantu had ordered Darkstar to monitor the katra removal session to keep Leo from single handedly creating an interspecies incident with the Vulcans upon his awakening.

"I sense......a great imbalance....." T'aint said straddling Leo. Her long, slender fingers moved across his head like spiders, touching upon his chakra points. "Almost...almost...."

Darkstar grumbled. Seeing the nude woman atop Leo made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. She was nearly prone, atop the man, her lips inches from his.

"I...feel something unusual..." she said.

"Now you know why they call me the big hoss, babe!" Leo said, his eyes snapping open and his tongue snaking out and licking the Vulcan priestess' face!

As T'aint lept from his body, hissing in outrage, S'Lan sounded an alarm. Raven crossed the room in three large, angry strides. Leo cut him off with a waive of the hand.

"SHE WAS NEKKID?!?!? I THOUGHT SHE WANTED IT!?!?!"" Streely gasped as Darkstar grabbed him close. Formidable looking guards began to fill the room. "OH AND THAT KATRA SHIT WITH ME AS YOUR WIFE? THAT AINT COOL!"

" I didn't have any choice in the matter." He growled tapping his combadge and requesting an emergency beam out.

"YOU AND YOUR FREAKING PENIS! ICK!!! YOU KNOW WHAT?" Leo shouted as the transporter took effect. "IM TELLIN BHRODE!".

======================
Presently....
======================

As the battle for DS5raged on around him, Raven could only wonder where Leo was and what trouble he was getting himself into now.

"Russian Roulette"

Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile - CO 1st Platoon SFMC Furies

Faylin McAlister
Civy

Location:Baile's Personal Quarters

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

"Ah...I love that caring concerned attitude of yours Baile." She paused, kissing the back of his neck more out of a motherly appreciation. "Have you ever thought about going back? To Smith?" It was at this point that McAlister wanted to gage his reaction. She did have an objective after all, and her focus, although appearing to be concerned...was nothing of the sort. The woman was all business.

Smith had made his homework. Baile had just mentioned her in a report he had made to Smith as a potential recruit - once her attitude had improved and she had learned make a tactical retreat instead of pushing things too far. Apparently Smith had seen more than that.

It wasn't that Baile mistrusted Smith's judgement. Far from it. During his entire time with the Crows Baile couldn't remember Smith making a single bad choice when it came to new recruits or in combat. So it was doubtful he had made one now. But he had experience first hand how Fay crossed the line over and over again and in the Crows that w o u l d get her killed. Slayne would shoot her without a second thought. Hendricks as well. He didn't want to think about what Payton would do if she pissed him off as well. That man knew how to cause pain in ways that made Baile shudder.

"Every day." he finally replied.

"What's stopping you? From what I see, nothing is keeping you here." Fay whispered in a seductive tone just inches from his ear. Perhaps this was going to be easier than she thought. But no...things never went this smoothly.

The muscles on his back and arms tensed. "A lot of things."

"Ah, okay." She wasn't going to push since the question obviously brought up a lot of stiffness in his response and body. "Well......" Standing, she ritualistically brushed off her pants, not knowing what to do now. Her brain was failing her for ideas, which she didn't like. "Look...Baile. I know you don't talk much...but something is really weighing heavy on your mind...."

He looked at her for a second. Once, what felt like an eternity ago, she had allowed him to glimpse her for who she was, not who she wanted people to see. The person he had seen then didn't fit in with the Crows. It was just too odd. But Smith had a nack for bringing out the killer in people. "I need.. answers.. and I won't find them here or with the Crows.."

Fay studied him with darting eyes before blowing out a frustrated breath. "Okay.....but you should know he wants you back....and I've been employed to bring you back....." Her face set to something dark, a glimpse of the facade she showed people just before she killed them. Not so in this situation. She turned to face him. "I need to go........know what ever or who ever is keeping you here....won't be around for long once I find out who or what it is."

"Always eager for the kill.. "

Her blue eyes narrowed at him, full of hunger and hidden delight at the possibility of killing freely yet again. The words eased into her head, triggering the endorphins that promised the wonderful high she received as she looked at her victim's frozen faces after her job was done. "Always........." Her voice dripped of lust and unfulfilled desire as her gaze bore into his.

Something inside of him reacted to Fay's hunger for death with such ferocity it startled the marine. Images he didn't recognise rushed through his mind, places he had never seen or been to. A stab of pain exploded in behind his eyes with such force it made him get up on his feet and stagger towards the wall. Grasping his head he sank down on his knees, breathing heavily. "I'm.. not.. " the last word was lost in an exhale through clenched teeth.

"Not what?" Fay whispered as she took a step forward. Her five inch heeled boots stopped just short of his left knee that was cemented into the floor. A slight smirk crossed her features as her head tilted to the side and down as she viewed his form. Part of her wanted to help him up, yet a stronger part...one she didn't understand, wanted to Peirce his back with her heel. Feeling the sharp point of her shoe enter the fleshy part of him and cause him pain fed her need for now. Fay's eyes narrowed dangerously yet again, flashing a calm demented presence.

His teeth were bared in a furious snarl. Far back in his mind he could almost feel Fay's inner struggle. That part of him wished for her to attack him. Wished that she would try and maybe even succeed. The other part of him wanted just to be left alone. To be himself again.

"I'm... not.. Sarm.." he growled, his fingers trying to tear the floor apart.

Her right foot lifted slightly off the ground, wiggled and set itself back down again. "How can you be sure?" She hissed with a wrath blackened with darkness. "Now....who are you.....in your core?" Her foot lifted again, this time coming to rest on the lower part of his back.

He could hear her foot raise from the floor. The sole of her shoe scraping against the metal, the fabric of her clothes brushing against her skin. The scent of her perfume when the air whirled around her leg. His hand spread out on the floor for support. "I'm Baile... "

Her foot stayed exactly where she had planted it. A little pressure on the heel heightened her senses. "Are you sure?" Fay rasped with a heavy breath. More pressure resulted in a slight roll of her eyes upwards and a heavy, almost erotic moan escaping her mouth.

The world around him faded. He spun around, balancing on one leg. He grabbed her ankle and the waistline of her clothes and drove her in front of him until they hit the wall. "I'M SARM!" he roared, mere inches from her face. This was what the Hydrans had face on Romulus. This what had hunted Dhani.

"Well, hello there." Fay stated calmly. "Nice to meet you at last." Her face remained stoic, as if she knew this would happen.

Baile blinked in confusion. "No.. I'm.. " he let go of Fay and backed away.

She froze slumped in half against the wall. "Make up your mind, will you please? Damn..." Fay muttered before standing. "What do you want? Who do you want to be?"

'Get a bloody hold of yourself..' he thought, both confused and irritated. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down, to find the center he had found when Dhani had been there. "Fay.. play games with someone else.. and leave me alone."

"Naw...can't do that." She whispered.

"Go to hell.."

"Actually I've been there...it's not bad." She retorted with a small chuckle. "However, I'll leave you to your own devices for now...if you want."

"Tell Smith I'm not leaving.. he wants me there - he can come here and ask me himself.. "

She smirked. "You just have to make t;hings difficult, don't you. "

"If you think this is difficult - you should see what happens when there's no else around to see.."

"That's not my problem Baile...or who ever the hell you are."

"It will be if you bother me again.. "

"Threats...and here we go again." She muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll just tell Smith that you changed...and arn't worth the ink that plastered that tattoo on your back. How's that?"

Baile turned his back to her and walked over to the gear he had been preparing before Dhani had visited him. It was hard. Every instinct in his body, in his mind, old and new ones, wanted to take the gun from the holster next to his bags and shoot Fay in the head.

'Arn't worth the ink that plastered that tattoo on your back.' The statement hit him harder than any physical blow could have done. This time there was no confusion in his mind. It had been replaced by a focus as clear as the finest crystal. It was a bait. He knew that. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter one damn bit.

He moved. He closed the distance between them between two heartbeats. "You have no right, no right to pass judgement on me.. " The alien eyes seemed to glow with malice and fury, all of it directed at Fay. It wasn't a human anger, it was something else. Something.. unknown. A glimpse of what he would become.

"I've earned every inch of that tattoo and I've earned the right to turn him down.. So you leave Starfleet for what? Not enough freedom? And you trade it for a man that will make Starfleet seem like a walk in th park.." It took all of his will, all of his slipping control not to tear her to bits. Her heartbeats sounded like thunder in his head and those drums were the drums of war.

"Yeah? Good for you. But all I see before me is a man that's a coward and will not choice his path that has been destined for him. He's ignoring what he is destined to do....for several reasons....all of which are cowardly. See ya around." She stated firmly before turning to leave.

It was like a second had been torn out of time. One second he was standing still, watching her back. The next he had closed the distance and yanked her back and slammed her down on the floor at full strength. Before she had even hit the floor completely he increased the force by pressing her down and placing his knee on her chest. The brute force from his knee was enough to make her ribs creak.

The soft spots glowed like beacons. Killing her would be so easy. He closed his hand and pulled it back, getting ready to release it, ending her. "The sign of a Crow is knowing when to cut and run.. You should have run."

"A Crow is also not afraid of death.....so do it...kill me..set me free from this crappy existence." She rasped out hoarsely. Her eyes widened slightly, attempting to force her thoughts upon him so he could see and feel what she felt.

His hand stayed where it was. Like the hammer on a loaded gun. Death waited for her only inches away. 'Set me free..' She knew it was death she saw in him in that moment. It wasn't him she spoke to. It was the incarnation the reaper had chosen to take at that moment. There was no fear, no stench to make his stomach want to turn inside out. Once again she had pushed him and he had let her. Why?

In that moment part of the answer to that riddle came to him. She was just as trapped as he was. She was too proud, to set in her own ways to ask him to give her that freedom and without pushing him like she did he would never give it to her. Ever.

The Crows was his family. His brothers. She was nothing like them. Did she even know what she had gotten herself into? She wasn't afraid to die. He knew that now, truly knew it. She even sought it out, just like he did, but for different reasons.

There would be no gift to the reaper today. He had promised Bental as well. His hand slowly opened and the reaper left the two to themselves. "Death will come to you, Fay... but not today and not by my hand." he told her in a coarse voice. How far they both had fallen.

He sat down next to her, as tired as she was. "What the hell are we going to do, Fay? We can't keep doing this...." He lay down on his back, covering his eyes. "One of us is going to end up dead and Smith will kill the survivor."

"I know...." Fay whispered.

"The Avatar" - Part III

Jander Tholme, Master of the Duty Free

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

and...
Unknown Andorian Shen

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

~Rhooz,~ Zhenia sh'Thenassi swore to herself.

She was supposed to be piloting the Duty Free, not playing babysitter to the crazed shen they had recovered from a drifting escape pod. She slammed a balled-up blue fist against the passageway's durasteel bulkhead in frustration. Tholme had asked her to do this. "Just go and look in on her, will ya, Z?"

~Sure, Jan,~ she had felt like saying. ~I've got nothing better to do. Like, oh say, fly the gorram ship!~ Instead, "Sure, Jander. Whatever you say, Skipper," was what she had said. As much as he got under her skin with his wild stunts and crazy ideas, she just couldn't say "No" to him. Her problem was that she had developed... well, she wouldn't let herself go there. They had been together for almost 10 years now, ever since she had been assigned to be his wingman in Phoenix Squadron, fresh out of training with the Andorian Guard's starfighter group. He was the big brother she'd never had.

~Or, something like that.~

~Get it together, Z,~ she chided herself, flicking an antenna back in annoyance. She had no time for reminiscing or fuzzy feelings. They still had a job to get done, not to mention the fact that they had to figure out what to do with the renegade shenya they had picked up. Zhenia almost wished she had just overlooked the damned escape pod, and not even mentioned it. It was a cold-hearted thought, for sure, but they would have already unloaded their bounty, gotten their shares, and be halfway to Risa by now.

~Dammit, Jander,~ she swore again as she approached the locked MedBay door. Sighing in frustration, she punched the unlock code into the keypad. The bolt retracted smartly with a metallic *kachunk*. Placing one hand on the release handle, she reached with the other to draw her blaster from its thigh holster. With a satisfying *click*, the weapon was on, an almost inaudible buzz of energy charging its collector. Zhenia allowed a tight smile: Though not as elegant as one of Jander's Starfleet surplus Phasers, the blaster was *solid*. "Built from a brick," Julianne had once quipped. No matter the ribbing, Z wouldn't trade the galaxy for the old Thorasathilaas 9B disruptor. Unlike the complicated control and cooling circuitry of a Phaser or a pulse rifle, the disruptor was simple; it even had only two modes: *Safe* and *Fire*. Ruggedly elegant.

Z's kind of weapon.

Zhenia lofted the disruptor's barrel in front of her as she shouldered the hatch inward. "Chool askuur, Hellcat?" she called out in Andorian to the dimly-lit compartment. Saeihr, actually, was the one to come up with the nickname for their amnesiatic guest. It was fitting - the woman had come out of the pod fighting, literally. Not only had she given Saeihr a good fight (Jander had to eventually stun the woman), but she'd nearly broken Zhenia's nose with an open palm-plant to the face. It had taken Z nearly an hour of towels and bags of ice (their only Protoplaser had quit working months ago) to stop the bleeding. Luckily, her nose wasn't broken, but it was severely bruised and swollen. Z hadn't even bothered looking at the damage in a mirror, yet--she was afraid of what she'd see. ~Damned gritch,~ the shen thought angrily, gingerly probing her still-throbbing nose with one hand.

~Ouch.~

"Go away," a voice suddenly replied from somewhere in the dim MedBay, near the biosuite.

Zhenia inched closer, keeping her eyes and antennas up and forward. "Wish I could, hon. Wish I could," she replied honestly, turning as she scanned for the source of the voice. "Why don't you come out, and we can talk?"

"I don't want to talk," the other woman's voice bit back.

Z shrugged. "Suit yourself. But Tholme wants me to look in on you, so why don't we make this easier on both of us, and just come out here, and then I'll gladly leave you alone." This was wasting her time. She'd rather be carrying on a conversation with the Breen fellow, Dol, and he hardly ever spoke.

*Crunch!*

Zhenia stopped, crouched low, and looked down at the deck, mindful to keep her antennas up. The floor was a mess: reflective shards of transluminum strewed all over, and a wall cabinet lying twisted and broken a meter away. ~What the frell?~ It looked like the whole cabinet had been pulled straight out of the reinforced bulkhead.

By *hand*.

~No wonder Jander had looked so frazzled,~ Z thought. He must have had quite a "conversation" with the Hellcat, after all. This was seriously going to piss-off Julianne, who'd have to clean up the mess.

"I don't want to stay here."

Zhenia's head snapped up in surprise to find the Hellcat staring evenly across at her, not two meters away. "Holy frell!" Z swore, reactively backpedaling. Crouched as she was, though, she didn't get too far before her boot slid on a piece of broken transluminum, sending her sprawling backwards on her ass. "Stay back!" she yelled, training the 9B's emitter at the other woman while trying to prop herself up from her ungainly position.

The Hellcat remained where she was, unmoving, staring at Zhenia with her one good eye, its iris slightly unfocused. The other eye was patched up, a hastily-sutured scar tracing up to the base of the woman's damaged left antenna. Her right antenna was uninjured, however: twisting and bobbing as she gingerly sensed the area around her. She was dressed now, too: a pair of old worn and tanned Leatherlite utility pants with a Polycot tank-top--one of Jander's old ensembles. Strangely, it fit her well. Her left arm--the one that was so burned when they had first found her--was bandaged up in sterile gauze, now.

"I need to go," the shenya suddenly spoke, her voice quivering. "I want to go home."

Zhenia sighed, shook her head, and lowered her disruptor, thumbing it to Safe. The other woman was, well...a kid, really. She looked young enough (maybe 28 or 29 Standard years, perhaps) to remind Z of her own baby sisters, or even one of her own daughters. ~What in the name of Thori is a youngling doing out in the middle of Hydran space, in a shot-up escape capsule?~ Z couldn't help but wonder. It just didn't make sense. She couldn't have gotten this far out on the Borderlands by herself. "Just who the frell are you, kid?" she asked as she pushed herself off the deck, brushing herself off.

"I'm...I don't know," the young shen replied. "I...I can't remember."

"Yeah, figures," Zhenia replied, tentatively holstering the disruptor. "You conked your head pretty good, whatever you were up to," she said, demonstratively tapping on her own forehead. "It looks like the swelling's down, but your brain's still healing; might take awhile until your memory comes back."

Hellcat just stared at her, blankly. It seemed she was phasing in and out of coherent thought. Not good. It meant that the damage to her brain might be more severe than Saeihr had initially though. She'd definitely needed to get to a hospital, and quickly. "Here, let's go over here," Zhenia said, motioning toward the biosuite as she reached for the other shenya's arm.

Hellcat snapped out of her apparent daze and pulled back, almost instantly. "No!" she yelled. "I'm not going back ! You'll strap me down again!" Her voice stretched two octaves in terror as her amber iris burned angrily into Zhenia's sapphire-blue eyes, locking her with newfound animosity and distrust.

Z backed away, holding her palms out, placatively. "Look, I'm not going to strap you down to anything, kid. But it looks like your arm is bleeding again," Z motioned to the wrapped arm with an antenna as a thin rivulet of indigo blood trailed down the woman's arm, "and I can bandage that up better for you."

The Hellcat looked down to her arm, then back up to Zhenia. Eye narrowed, she considered her options, then realized she didn't really have any. "Okay," she simply said, letting Zhenia lead her to the biosuite.

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

"I haven't really given it much thought, to tell you the truth," Tholme said, scratching at his goatee. The Duty Free continued to hurtle toward Deep Space 5, although the warning light on their long-range sensors continued to blink red. Hydran warships in the vicinity of their resupply point. For a not-so-legitimate businessman, that was seriously bad news. Even if the Hydrans weren't actively trying to interdict him, that could still become the end result.

Saeihr S'Caevra shrugged lazily, perched behind him at the tactical plot. There wasn't much for her to do while they transited, so she'd come up to the bridge to shoot the breeze with her human captain. "You could always dump her with the border patrol and let them sort it out."

"Nah, I know what kind of people wind up in the border patrol," Tholme shook his head. The question of what to do with their amnesiac Andorian was becoming a bit of a headache--one that not even years of experience plying the spacelanes could give the right answer to. "You know the type: Gets off on being in power, likes to feel superior. I'd sooner hand her over to the Tal Shiar. At least there, you know they're not going to help you." He paused, then added, "No offense."

"None taken. There's a reason I'm not exactly a 'hometown kind of girl'," Saeihr sighed. To be back in Ki Baratan, walking the streets of her home. Working the endless web of politics that dominated the Rihannsu society. Ah...it would be glorious. But there was no going back to that now.

Glaring at the blinking red light, Tholme wondered if perhaps his contact on the Hydran war council hadn't been lying. Had their new friend forced the Hydrans to change their force disposition? Had she poked the recently awakened bear? "Maybe I'll contact my friends in the Fleet. They might be able to do something with her. I can't shake the idea that she might be with some kind of intel group."

Saeihr nodded thoughtfully. "The way she laid Zhenia flat, that's definitely possible," she agreed, taking the opportunity to undercut the other Andorian on the ship. It wasn't that she didn't like Zhenia, it was just... eh, a 'girl thing.' Even well raised women of Ki Baratan were allowed to be competitive. "Not a criminal? She certainly didn't fight fair."

"No, she didn't," he laughed. Poor Zhenia. Not only did she have to endure the physical consequences of letting her guard down, but also Saeihr's sharp tongue. Tholme wondered briefly at the flare of... fire in the Rihanha woman's eyes when she reminded him of his wingman's humilation. She was Romulan--so obviously there was some hidden agenda. But what was it? He dismissed the thought. Can't be worrying about that while I have Hydrans breathing down my neck.

"Hey, Cap'n." It was Julianne.

"Hey Julie," he nodded.

"Number Three phase coil's outta whack, again," she said, her smooth Outlander accent glazing her words. "Don't know how steady cloak's gonna be, but as long as we keep it under Warp 3, should be no problem. Unless ya plan on havin' my engines shot at again." She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest while looking pointedly at Tholme. Saeihr merely arched a curious brow at Jander.

Julianne Bhune. Still a girl, in so many ways to Jander Tholme. He had found her on Talvas, their deeply corrupt mutual homeworld. She'd only been 15 (or so he'd figured) at the time: no family to speak of, surviving by working her way as a wrench on anything that needed wrenching. She was good; no doubt about it, eventually making her way up to the grav-racers and speed runners that dominated the racer-gambling market in the region.

From there, she'd popped in and out of the spacer outfits that worked on the Bell-Dain Cartel freighters that run goods in and out of the Duneri spaceport on Talvas--she'd fix a field coil for rations, or work on a grav-drive for credits. It's how they'd met, actually. The Duty Free's cloak had been in need of repairs, and she'd just...done it. While Jander had been haggling with the shop boss on price, she'd somehow scampered aboard, jammed herself in between the circuitry, cross-patched it, and... *voila*! It had worked, ever since. When the Bell-Dains had sold him out a few months later, he'd taken her with him.

That had been 4 years ago, now. At 19, she wasn't so much just a girl, anymore. She was a damned, headstrong, competent--and beautiful--young woman. Jander knew better than to mess with her, though. Especially when it came to her engines. The Duty Free was his ship, for sure. But the old Cochrane FLG-2 Warp engine was *hers*. Lock, stock, and barrel.

"Well, if everything goes smoothly, should be no problem," Tholme replied, patting the top of his console proprietarily. Say what they would about Jander Tholme (and people had said plenty) but he knew how to take care of his ship. "That last fight didn't shake anything too loose, did it? Other than the phase coil?"

Julianne worked the bottom corner of her lip, narrowing her green eyes at him. "Nope," she replied smartly. "Everythin' else is just fine. But if I lose anotha coil, parts of your girl here are gonna show through the cloak like a Romulan at a Betazoid wedding," Julianne quipped.

Behind her, Saeihr rolled her eyes, but Julianne seemed not to notice. Instead, she continued on. "See, as the out-of-phase emitters keep cycling--on/off, on/off--" she made a flipping motion with her hand illustratively, "then its gonna burn out the transducer feeds. And you know how expensive a new set of those'll be." Again, she crossed her arms.

Tholme groaned. A new transducer--complete with all the parts--would cause more problems than just putting them back most of the cargo of the freighter they'd just hauled. The Duty Free was a... particular kind of ship. She didn't like new systems, and tended to fight them tooth and nail--or spark and code, as the case might be. And that only lead to more money being spent. Integrating the new cloak that had come with Saeihr had been hard enough. A repeat could drive a man to suicide. "Oh, I know. I'll keep the speed down."

"Well, good, then," Julianne smiled sweetly, throwing a good pat to Jander's back. "Otherwise, maybe we'd have to barter that Andorian chick for parts. Uh... I mean," she stopped, blushed, then cleared her throat, "the beat up one... erm, I mean, the one that's not ours. Jeez," she blushed, then quickly ducked out of the cockpit and down the corridor.

"You know... not a bad idea," Tholme laughed, enjoying the sight of Julianne's swaying hips as she retreated. He was way too old to even be hitting on her... but still, he wasn't dead. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

There was a comfortable silence in the cockpit then, as he and Saeihr simply enjoyed the freedom that spaceflight entailed. In the life of Jander Tholme, there were many such moments, punctuated by space combat and illicit deals in back alleys on Hydrax and Unkrath. It was moments like these - knowing that he could set his own course and make his own way - that he had left Starfleet for.

Not that he was going to change course. Whatever was happening at Deep Space Five, it was going to have an impact on his life in one way or another. Nobody was completely free, after all. And he had to admit... he was curious. Unless protocol had gotten a lot more lax since the Dominion War, there should have been all kinds of general distress calls, public service announcements, and certain fleet movement advisories. Instead, the comm was almost dead.

When they arrived at the Starfleet border station in a few hours... well, hopefully things would go smoothly.

"Equilibrium" Part One

Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile - CO 1st Platoon SFMC Furies
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief Engineer

(Set after 'Flavor of the Day pt 4', during the 'Crackin Jewels' series)

***USS Galaxy, Marine Barracks, En Route to DS5***

Having dismissed everyone for a break Dhanishta made straight for Bailes quarters. It was the last place she wanted to go; in fact he was the last person on the ship she wanted to see, though if there was a toss up between him and Kimberly she would pick Baile. Not because she preferred him or anything, or that he was a better conversationalist ? it was just that he was up front, he didn't hide behind smiles and words of pretend comfort or fake sincerity. He was rude, arrogant, self obsessed, crazy, slightly insane (and not in a good way) but at least he didn't pretend to be normal... like she did. She paused outside his door that last thought repeating inside her mind, like last nights dinner was on her stomach. Reaching out she pressed the chime and prayed that he had already been called up to do something other than be in there, waiting for her?

'What the...'

He looked up from the scanner he had been testing. Every fiber in his body, every tiny little cell tingled with restlessness. All in the blink of an eye. Then the door chime sounded. He looked around, confused at the strange sounds and smells that blended in with those in his room.

The goggles landed at his feet, torn off by his own hand. He stood up, confused. Silently he shook his head, trying to get rid of the sensory overload that had suddenly come over him.

Just as sudden as it had overcome him it was gone again. "Enter?" he called out in a coarse voice.

Dhanishta hesitated outside the door; she knew what was on the other side waiting for her. Stepping forward tentatively as the doors parted she stood the other side, not venturing any further into his room other than that one step. "I don't have much time," she started, "I have to get back to work soon," she deliberately made a time constraint, as much for herself as for him.

"What happened?" she asked after a moments pause.

He shook his head again and finally the barrage ended. 'What happened?' He concentrated on those two words. "Your charming sister came down to the brig and started shooting her mouth off... she told me that she'd go to the captain and tell him about a broken nose unless I told her everything that happened on Romulus.."

She tensed. "And what did you tell her?" she asked quickly, quite anxious.

"What do you think?" he replied, sounding very irritated at the question.

Dhanishta let out a soft breath of relief and let herself relax some. "Then what's with all the fussing?" she asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow at him.

The headache was coming back with a vengeance. He frowned, both at the headache and at Dhani. "Tell your sister that if she ever bothers me again it will be unpleasant."

"Believe me I will be having words with her." Dhanishta replied gravely, "She has been delving too much into my personal affairs of late. I assure you it won't happen again." she promised. "Was that all?" she asked slightly surprised.

He was about to nod his head but stopped. "One thing? be careful?"

"Of?" Dhani questioned brow furrowing. She stepped closer to him, concerned for him, yet she held back, remembering what happened last time they were in a room alone together.

"Just be careful.. I'm going to run some recons for Bental once he can figure out which side is up on the maps.. What happens after that is.. not known." he finished, unsure of how to tell her that he might not be back again. Somehow he doubted she would be devastated by the removal of a serious threat to her mental and physical health.

Dhanishtas frown deepened. She stared at him for some time, unsure of how to respond to that. "Baile I.." she trailed off. Licking her lips she threw caution to the wind and crossed the room to stand before him. "You need anything?" she paused, not understanding why she found this difficult. "Baile, are you alright?" she asked instead, concerned.

It wasn't easy to push down the urge to lash out against the telepath in front of him. It was almost like trying not to breathe. But it wasn't him. He had no problem killing, but not without reason and just the desire to kill her wasn't enough. It was just fucked up.

"I'll be... fine.. once I get off this damn tug.." he said to her, 'and into battle', Baile finished the words in his mind.

Dhanishta wasn't sure if she should tell him that she could hear him or not. Last time their minds 'connected' it wasn't pretty, for either of them.

What was strange was that she wasn't comforted by his statement that he might not come back. For some reason knowing that he was on board made her feel safe. Even though she knew deep down that he was her demise, still, having him around, knowing where he was, was a damn sight more comforting that the thought that he could be anywhere, popping up at a moments notice.

"Baile, I'm here for you if you need anything." She told him quietly, unsure why she felt like she had to tell him that. Unsure of why she even felt like that. She was torn inside between wanting to see him dead to feeling obliged to keep him alive? no it wasn't that? not at all. There was something else, deeper than all of that. It was more of an urge, or a need or even a want. Something inside her strove for the intention to keep him from following his path. And there was another voice that believed he had the answers she needed. Victor didn't have them, he was what he was, whether he was the mask for what lay within or the true identity harboring a parasite mattered not. She was nothing like him, nor Baile ? but Baile understood more. Victor had told her once to let out what she hid, let it free and stop caging it. But Baile understood the struggle, the confusion and the uncertainty.

She felt her body stiffen as she was tempted to ask that same question, 'what happened on Romulus'. She was searching for the same answers that her sister was, pity Kala hadn't realized that.

He just stood there, not knowing what else to do. A couple of deep breaths. A search for an equilibrium that wasn't his to find. So much violence and anger. Everywhere. "I.. just.. need to get away.. Before I really hurt someone.."

"I understand." Dhanishta said softly. The fact of the matter was that she did fully understand. She too felt dangerous, yet for the moment her inner demon only sought to hurt her. Its violence was trapped, at least for now. Contained in dreams and untimely images and visions, but contained none the less. She stared at Baile, wondering how long she could subdue what was within, how long until it took over like it did to Baile, how long until she truly became a danger, sentenced to stints in the brig, reprimanded and demoted. How long would it be until she killed again, murdered in cold blood or in a fit of unabated anger? Slowly she placed her had on Baile's shoulder, squeezing it, trying to offer some reassurance that she meant what she had said.

He lowered his head. The muscles in his neck were clearly seen. "I feel it every day... every hour." he said to no one in particular. "Its in the back of my mind all the time.. I'm trying to? stay away..." Baile shook his head. "But is there a point?"

"Stay away," Dhanishta repeated confused, "from who? Me?" she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and looked at his hands. "No.. from it all... I? Every day I feel more and more out of place.. not just with the ship but with everything.." he paused and raised his head. His alien eyes throbbed as he looked at Dhani. "The marines, the Federation.. me.. I just don't know who I am any more.. What I am.."

Dhanishta caught herself before she said anything. She turned away from him, unsure of her own actions. She crossed the room, not to get away from him but from what she wanted to confess to him. From the agony inside. Hearing him detail how he felt, she wanted to respond in kind.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Dhanishta asked suddenly turning round to face him.

"With Time"

(Occurs Immediately After 'Let's Go and Get Them")

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Captain, USS Galaxy
Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Commander Corran Rex, Chief Tactical Officer

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Briefing Room

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."

As the others began to leave, Corran Rex came to a decision. "Captain, a moment?"

Darren nodded, and only Iniara remained with him. "This is about your... condition, I assume?"

"Picked up on that, did you sir?"

"I know you well, Commander, particularly to know when you are, shall we say, not yourself."

"I'll need to be replaced immediately," the Trill said quietly. "It's all I can do to keep everything else out, and - " But whatever else Corran Rex meant to say was cut off with a sudden, strangled gasp. His eyes glazed over momentarily, and he breathed a single word: "No...."

Then he fell to the deck, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Daren reached out for the falling Trill, missed him, and almost fell to the floor with him, stopped only by a fast grab from Iniara. He nodded in thanks to his XO and knelt down next to Corran, one hand checking for vital signs.

"Corran?" Daren asked as he felt for the Trill's pulse. "Corran, can you hear me?"

Iniara's hand moved automatically toward her commbadge as she prepared to call Sickbay, but stopped just short of contact with the device. She squatted down opposite the captain, brow furrowed as she focused on Corran.

"It's...it's not physical," she said after a moment, turning to look at Daren. "I think. I've never felt anything like this before." She looked back towards Corran. He hadn't moved. "What did you mean about his 'condition'?"

"The katras he held," Daren replied, finding a pulse and starting to count as he talked. "Back when we all had them. He has so many, so very many, inside him, that it? changed him. They woke parts of his brain up that hadn't been awake before. Made him a telepath ? but without any training. He was receiving everyone around him all the time, and didn't know how to turn it off. It was like a switch was just turned on and someone used to living in the dark their whole life was suddenly in a brightly-lit room. He'd been taking lessons with one of the Counselors ? Elessidil, I believe ? to learn how to erect shields, but?" He frowned. "I have a pulse, but it's not normal."

"Just like with the Dithparu..." Iniara whispered to herself. She swallowed hard, the memories of all the months she had lost because of those evil creatures floating to the surface of her mind. It had taken her half a year to regain some sense of normalcy after that event, and she'd never truly recovered from it. If the same thing had happened to Corran...

"He needs medical attention," she said after a moment, worry beginning to creep in at the edges of her voice. "At the very least the doctors can stabilize his physical signs while we see what can be done to repair his mind. Tarin to Sickbay," she finished, tapping her commbadge. "We need a team in the Observation Lounge, immediately."

["On our way, Commander,"] came the immediate reply, followed by a chirp of the communications line closing.

'Do not fear, TarinIniara and DarrenMK'antu,' came a voice after that in their minds, along with the impression of who they were speaking to - a being far older and more experienced than they would ever be in their lifetimes. 'Corran is here, still, as part of the Whole. We will be fine, as all things, with time.'

Somehow, looking down at the still body of her friend, Tarin couldn't find Rex's mentally projected thoughts the least bit comforting.

"Heavy Responsibility"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

With an unauthorized use of Captain Daren M'Kantu

In his mind, the water rose rapidly, as the tide rushed to wash the mental shore.

The entire intelligence department was huddled around him, sitting on chairs or the floor at the intelligence center. The CIC was at war mode. the hatches separating the various sections were open so everyone could see and talk with everyone. Any personal belongings or non-essential paperwork was stored away, and the officers were wearing a black duty jumpsuit much like Saul. Everyone were carrying armed phasers, even the cadets.

"... remind you that if you leave CIC, you have to change to regular blue-collared uniform. There are enough of those on the entrance corridor. There's a strong risk of Hydran boarding parties, and if any of you are captured and identified as Intelligence officers - I don't need to expand on that. Operation security: No one, including me, is supposed to enter CIC until the end of battle proc--"

Saul's commbadge noted in its 'lovely' way that someone was trying to reach him. Saul was about to turn off the chirp when the Captain's voice chimed in.

=/\= M'Kantu to Bental. =/\=

"One minute... one minute." Saul waved a warning finger at Raynor, and retreated to his office. He tapped on the badge as soon as the doors separating him from the rest of the department.

"Bental here."

=/\= Lieutenant, you did not get back to me about my message so I wanted to make sure you got it. =/\=

"Sorry sir - I did not check my console since the briefing." He didn't feel any need to explain that he was 'busy' with Nara and turned off his console. "I'll read it now."

=/\= That won't be necessary. I assigned you to the battle bridge's Tactical post for the combat. =/\=

Saul was about to protest, but then held back. If M'Kantu wanted him there, there must be a good reason; Saul had confidence on the Captain's judgment in these issues.

"Yes sir."

=/\= You understand what this means. =/\=

Saul nodded, even though the Captain couldn't see the gesture. Tactical was flooded with junior Lieutenants and Ensigns even during Saul's term as CTO. To put him on the bridge, the Captain's bridge, at a time like this was a serious vote of confidence in Saul's skills as a Tactical officer. Skills which he doubted in the past.

=/\= Also, I understand that there was a breach in our agreement. =/\=

This did not sound good. "Are you referring to Baile, or --"

=/\= To Baile. =/\=

Saul circled his desk, and activated the console. An angered red icon flashed at the bottom right corner of the screen, marking an alert. Saul, with OPS help, relayed the internal sensors surrounding Baile's 'permitted area' to a small tracking software that was supposed to alert Saul if Fay or several other people came close to Baile.

Apparently, Fay was stupid enough to do just that.

"She's insane." Saul muttered. "Is she still alive? Such a lack of judgment, I would toss her out of the fleet."

=/\= She did that herself. =/\=

Saul wasn't sure what to make of the Captain's statement, but the man beat him to it. =/\= We'll discuss this after the battle. I'll expect you at the bridge. M'Kantu out =/\=

The Dutchman acknowledged the end of the conversation. Closing his eyes, he made a long, slow exhale. It seems that an eternity passed since he manned the rear cannons during the battle of Havras. Now, the entire arsenal would be at his disposal. He is going to be Galaxy, a battle cruiser.

Well.

He returned to the main CIC hall, dryly informed his crew of the change of plans, and concluded the briefing. As everyone headed silently to their posts, he glanced at the chromometer indicating the ETA to DS5. There was time enough.

He tapped his badge. "Bental to Yuuri."

=/\= I'm here Saul. =/\=

"Nyoko, I'll meet you at holodeck 1 in three minutes, all right?"

=/\= Saul. =/\= There was a moment of hesitation. Saul assumed that the silence meant she decided not to ask what the hell was wrong with him wanting to play at the holodeck hours before a fight. =/\= Why? =/\=

"I'm taking Tactical at the battle bridge. I want to practice untill the last possible moment."

=/\= I see. See you there. =/\=

"Bliss is Not a Constant State of Worry"

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

And

Mika Sh'Sonora, APC

Location: Various flashback flittings of a wandering and very panicked mind.

Soundtrack: Speed Metal at 6 o'clock in the morning. Very random shit to get me fired up after a night of insomnia.

The backhanded clack of Corgan's phaser rifle released the safety and primed the power pack into the conductor coils, the whine of its confirmed lethality, from inert hunk of metal and plastic in the armory's rack to a energy spewing dragon that could oblitherate all life in a half mile radius (if used right) confirmed in its sleepy, insect cried. The screens lit, its pippy voice bleep bleeped out of sleepy diagnostics mode, a quick fireup of its os awakened dead metal and plastic to life.

Meet Midnight. From now until the last body was disintigrated into starry night, it was James Corgan's friend.

It was his only friend in the world now. An amalgamation of Starfleet type two phaser technology, evolved over two hundred years of research, development, and ergonomics that switched from the sublimely functional to the horrendously stupid and back again, the last trace of Starfleet's explorer past. It was a weapon of peace, aggressive lines were gone, the functional pistol grip taken out for a more untried, galactically unique and downright questionable 'dustbuster with a phasercoil' design. It was batshit ideas like this that came with a lack of real war experience.

But it was his friend, and James was used to the shape now. He could make a phaser sing, dance, and do whatever it wanted.

The main misconception was that the Starfleet phasers were fragile, impractical, and overly complex beasts, best used for trained soldiers and not for the hundreds of millions of insurgents that dotted the galaxy like so many fleas, fighting their local wars with Klingon or Cardassian phasers, worrying about their local problems with a energy weapon that couldn't do much more than spit out a ball or beam of death.

Starfleet's phasers were refined and complex for a reason. It too could fire in a straight line, and that was ok with most people. But James was a connsumate professional, a killer of high regard. When you got to a certain skill level, straight line wasn't enough. He needed a friend that could do more.

The Starfleet phaser was famous for doing more. It could heat rocks for warmth, excavate tunnels without harming flesh and blood, stun a room full of Klingon warriors and still have enough battery charge to rattle a shuttlecraft's shields with one big hit. It was a shotgun when you set it to wide spread pulse fire. It was a sniper rifle under a narrow confinement beam and set to long range. It was a tranquilizer gun for the largest beasts and a flycatcher when ratcheted way, way down. In peace, it was developed not as a weapon, but as the Starfleet man's ultimate utility knife.

And James was no exception, only on steroids. Commanders at certain stations took liberties with their phasers to make them powerful. James was accurate and had a faster response time on the trigger. It also had a bitchin' matte black job, its silver and chrome of old reflected light and gave away positions (something peacetime developers tended to ignore, it could do everything but practical war fittings slipped their minds... typical science geeks). Then to throw that to pot, he engraved etchings in gold flake (easily replicated), in homage to the guns of the 19th century that sported ivy leaves and spirals. It was a gentleman's gun, like Patton's pearl handled revolvers.

It was his best friend, going to battle with him. The second edition of Midnight. He lost the other on an away mission where he was captured months ago. He missed Midnight, and fitted another one. Untested, it was going to battle anyways.

It was his best friend, and he needed one now.

Especially, in the eve of battle, since he pissed off his girlfriend.

******
FLASHBACK!
******

Rewind a few days before. James Corgan heard the news of war, and was typically prepared (he would be a terrible chief of security if he wasn't). Midnight was on his belt, an inert piece of plastic and metal until his fingers touched and his heart sang for war. Troubles were there, but they were under control. His best officer T'lan, a delictable piece of Vulcan eyecandy that set his sexual radar to detect multiple contacts was fighting a serious case of the crazies, so he was alone without his sidekick at his attention. He would have pulled another, but Allison Jimsdottir was still angry at him.

And there was once a time where even his depressions, gruffness and frank offensiveness was deemed charming to women. What the hell happened?

Oh well. It was ok. James still had his rock, his bastion, his Mika Sh'Sonora. Don't mind the name, it was anglicised on Earth when she registered as a citizen. Her Andorian name had insectoid clicks and whistles from her native language. It was easier this way. She was an expatraiot Andorian, formerly of the Federation Diplomatic Corp and former sub and full ambassador to various planets until a coup-e'tat on her watch NOT authorized by Starfleet got her kicked out. She was now the ship's schoolteacher, a far cry from her job at manipulating galactic politics, but one with a better chance of saving the universe.

She was his life outside work. She loved without question, kept James from doing something stupid like chewing the the insulation inside the ship's walls, screwing anything that waved a marvellous set of tits at him, or hanging himself, and in turn she had a pet human. An amiable arrangement.

But anyways, the slip of a girl, easily a foot or more shorter than James in high heels, had been his love interest since the disaserous and bombastically curved Atole Tekri, and he had not regretted it.

What he was still finding, however, that trying to balance his work and love life was hard. Love lives asked for time that security officers could not give. Being on 24/7 alert with no holidays and hardly an inclination to use his shore leave was hard on a relationship. One minute you could be making love, the next you'd have to pull out or finish off because Ensign Dumbfuck lost her cat in the goddamn turbolift, or the Borg decided to turn your friends into cyberized sushi. It was a hard life, but to Mika's credit she took it in stride. She seemed to understand, to a point.

What James didn't, and he faulted himself solely for this, understand the need to protect his loved ones.

Case in point, James was going to war. Unneccessary civilian personnel were usually evacuated to the nearest starbase or shuttled the hell out of there. He looked for Mika to talk about that issue alone.

Hence why his best friend was an animate lifeform eraser.

He had cornered her at their shared quarters when he popped the question. He was in the bedroom, dressing in his uniform. Mika could he heard in the sonic shower, the hum and whine of its crystals a background annoyance.

"Honey, we need to talk." James pleaded as he packed Midnight into his holster, "I want you off this ship."

There were many ways he could have brought up the question, and in retrospect that was not the best. He could see her emerge from the bathroom, her head and bare shoulders peeking out as she looked perplexed, turquoise blue antennae wilting like dead flowers, and the hurt expression on her face as if he was beating her pet tribble with a rusty phase spanner. She was pretty as a flower, cute as a teddy bear and her will was iron, but when you mention you want her gone without explanation, she was easily wounded.

"James?" She piqued curiously. Rationality was intact. She knew something was up. Hardly stupid, she was smarter than James Corgan. The brains of the outfit, while James was the spirit.

Spirit had a hard time explaining itself on feelings alone. James explained, "I want you to evacuate with the others. We're going into a warzone. It's not safe here for you. Please, go with the non essential personnel."

Her head darted back into the bathroom. She sounded hurt, defensive. "James, I will not leave you and you know that."

"Honey, this isn't a debate." James said reasonably, "The children are being evacuated, and so should you. You should be there with them. The last thing I need is to worry that you're ok in the middle of a phaser fight, especially if the ship is in danger and you're still on it. Didn't we have this talk before? If the ship is in danger, your cute little blue ass is on the next shuttle."

She retorted, "No, we did not discuss this and I am not going anywhere without you. Call me sentimental, but I love you and you need me near you or else you will fall to pieces. Do not worry about me. I am more capable of defending myself."

James didn't doubt her ability to take care of herself. With a master's rating in Andorian martial arts and the ability to whip his ass in a one on one bout of fisticuffs, she was more than capable of defending herself... when phasers and disruptors weren't involved. Still, it would not deter her. "Babe, please don't make this hard for me to do. We're going to go through hell soon. War is a nasty business, and I don't want you to have any part of it. Please go with the children. You need to be with them."

"The other teachers are doing fine with them, thank you very much!" She pouted, and that was that to her, "And I know war. I have seen it myself and cried over its dead. We Andorians are bred warriors, remember? We are shown war pictures as children, read stories of massacres and campaigns while in the crib! I may not be much, but I have seen the horrors of war for myself and I am steeled to it."

James shook his head and muttered soundlessly "Why me?". The fact that she claimed to be ready proved to him that she wasn't. The proper answer would have offended and challenged her. "Nobody's ready for war, trust me babe. Besides... what are you going to do on the ship?"

"Oh... about that my dear James...."

She stepped out of the bathroom, and James jaw officially hit the floor, and was heard underneath by Ensigns So'ka and Hanley as they made love.

Mika was in Starfleet uniform.

Not the official one, mind you. She was still a civilian, and such had a different version. It had a single crewman recruit's chevron on a light blue collar of the undershirt. It kept with the same pattern as James' uniform, the post Dominion War black suit with black polished shoes and golden inlays. No, the difference was in the shoulders. James was moody grey, standard for Starfleet.

Mika's was white, and on the shoulder's was a caduceus on the right, and a red cross and a red crescent on the other. To further drive the point, she had a satchel over her shoulder, plastered with the caduceus, the red cross, red crescent and a variety of other universal symbols to indicate 'I can save your life'.

Rather than be happy, James smacked his hand on his forehead when it fully sank in.

"Fuck..." James muttered, "You're a candy striper."

A candy striper, or in layman's terms, a nurse. Mika was a nurse now. Too angry at her to admire the genius and multi talented aspects of her, he was worried of her being in the firing line (which for capital ships, was somewhere in the parsecs range). Being in the middle of the war with nothing but a badge that most alien races don't respect anyways had him shitting kittens.

There was also the lack of respect any decent Starfleet security officer showed to nurses. They were sexual fodder, women you hit on while recovering from a phaser wound. That he could handle with a cuff to the head at the offending lech. Blocking phaser fire from a capital ship was another matter altogether.

"You're a candy striper." He repeated. "No way..."

Testily, she corrected James. "No, I am a Starfleet Civilian's Auxiliary Nurse's Corp member! I signed up when I heard we were going to war. Now I can stay on the ship with you and still serve as a functional member of the crew. I am not dead weight now. I can be of service."

"Awwww...no no no..."

"Stop complaining, dear James! This is my decision." She accented her point with a glare that could pierce the hull of a capital ship. "I am more than qualified for the position. I already have level 5 in nursing and first aid, which is more than enough to get the job. It's only part time during times of disaster and war. James..." She paused and felt more hurt as she saw James look more dumbstruck and shocked, "...I thought you would be happy with my decision. I thought you would support it."

James uttered, "You're a fucking candy striper going off to war. That is not good."

"And why are you so against it?"

James had a million reasons, but one would do just fine. "Because we're going off to war and you could die?!" He blurted out with the common sense of sages, "I've been there. It's fucking hell! I don't want you to have any part of it! It's not some game, and you're not freakin' Joan of Arc! It's actual fucking hell! Do you have any idea what it's actually like? I know... I've been through the worse war has to offer, and I don't want you to do the same! Please, for the love of fucking Christ woman, take the next shuttle off this fucking ship!"

Usually their arguments would last and lovemaking would ensue. He always wanted to have sex with a nurse or a doctor, and why not? Like Starfleet engineers whom had a reputation for turning rocks into replicators, Starfleet medical staff were known to be great in bed. He knew from experience Mika was a dynamo in the sack.

Not tonight. Mika looked serious. No forgiveness. It was as if the room temperature was reversed with the space outside. His reception to his angry logic was received with her silent, iron will, and it was more powerful than capital ship phaser cannons. Her face scrunched up, and she glared pure concentrated hatred at James.

"So you can take these responsibilities and I cannot?" She tersely stated, "Only you are allowed to put your life in danger to protect this ship? It is my home too! If I want to help, that..." Her last words were a crackled hiccup, "...is my business too... you selfish son of a bitch! Do not... DO NOT presume to tell me I cannot take this responsibility! Goodbye! Talk to me when you have matured!"

That was the last James had seen of her in the last few days.

He was tempted to look her up, but she was probably with the candy stripers, and being slow to anger but slower to simmer down she would greet his presence with a slap to the face or a kick to the testicles. Besides, James was busy with security preparations. But still, he missed his darling Mika and wished he didn't anger her, but at the same time he didn't want her on the ship. It was hard to apologize when he couldn't reconcile the desire to take her out of harm's way.

And so he waited for the war to come, his phaser his only friend.

"An Experience Best Shared"

Principal Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Acting Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Chief Operations Officer
Lieutenant T'Pol (8-Ball) Hunter, Chief Science Officer
SCPO. Renora Loret, Tactical
Crewman Kallor, Security

****

USS Galaxy
Stardrive Deck 8
Battle Bridge

The Galaxy's approach along the same vector used by the Hydrans in their initial attack on Deep Space 5 had, to all appearances, been a success. The real test, however, would be in the next few minutes.

"All right," Daren spoke up from his position by the plot table. "As soon as we achieve separation from the Saucer Section, we do it just like the simulations we practiced. For the initial pass, we concentrate all fire on the Hammer of Progress and try to disable her - *unless* damage estimates on the Light of Vindication were off and she's still space worthy. In that case, we divert all fire to her. After that, there's not a lot of point in making plans because they'd just go out the airlock as soon as the Hydrans reacted anyway. The important part is to keep all the capital ships away from the Saucer Section - how we do that is open to the needs of the situation." He looked up. "Everyone ready?"

"Tactical ready." Saul Bental chimed immediately. The proclamation did not come natural to him - it had been a year since his term as CTO ended and he returned to the familiar pastures of intelligence. Nonetheless, his training sessions with Renora and the periodical training he took as a bridge officer kept his memory sharp.

Dhanishta looked up from her console; her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over the pad. Nodding to herself she pushed the trepidation aside, there was no room for worrying. She recalled an odd phrase she had heard once, many moons ago, back in the Academy, something about a souffl?, it will rise or it won't; worrying wont change it... she shook her head, frowning slightly, she couldn't recall the context of the adlib, it wasn't fresh in her mind - thus she drew no comfort from it. She shrugged it off, "Engineering is ready." she assured the Captain crisply as her eyes darted from one read out to the next.

The comms system chimed. =/\= Fire control to Bridge. All systems ready. =/\= Renora stated over the transmitter. She could imagine the scene on the battle bridge now, the crews standing at their stations waiting for what seemed like hours for that order from command. She leaned back in her chair and took in the screens in front of her. When the order came they would not be found wanting.

Kallor stood outside the bridge shifting from one foot to the other as the officers reported in; this was one hell of a "welcome on board the Galaxy" initiation. He'd expected at least a slice of cake but everyone was far too busy to notice that he was a new face amongst them, and given the situation he was quite happy about this. There was nothing worse than the look of disappointment on a persons face when they realized that they were being backed up by a complete stranger. He ran another check over his phaser and then mentally tried to recall everything they had been able to tell him in the short time he'd been aboard. Who was he kidding? If he saw some bad guys right now he'd shoot them.

"Ops ready" Michael reported with heavy face. The small auxiliary control center, also known as the battle bridge always raised his tension levels. It was dense and gave the feeling of working inside a box, in comparison to the standard federation bridge, especially on a Galaxy class starship. Since emergencies were not a common thing, Jamson and the senior staff preferred to stay away from this place. In other words, being there, meant trouble. Saucer separation...the Hydrans, this was going to be tough.

Viewing the readings on his console, the operations Chief pressed a few buttons before continuing "Overriding automatic separation process and switching to manual control". The console beeped briefly as Jamson confirmed the action once more. "Retracting and collapsing docking latches..." Michael added with confidence in his voice. He couldn't remember how many times he ran this scenario in the holosuites, but this time, it was for real.

=/\= "Saucer separation in one minute," =/\= the computer spoke up.

"Sixty seconds, people," Daren added. "Look sharp and be ready. If you have any last-minute suggestions, now is the time for them."

"Alternate reality shift where the Hydrans are pansies and we defeat them with a huge tub of weed killer?" Dhanishta quipped dryly from her station.

"Sign me up for that universe," 8-Ball spoke up from her station. "But make sure the gardener with the Round-Up is a hunk wearing really tight..." she paused, looked over at M'Kantu, and finished, "...gloves...."

Dhanishta arched an eyebrow and turned slowly to cast a side ways glance at 8-Ball. Her eyes narrowed on the Vulcan hybrid as the corners of her mouth curved upwards into a jesting smile, "I'll remember that," she countered, "when I'm... pruning," she slowed choosing her words carefully, "in the... arboretum." she finished with a slight tilt of her head as she turned back to concentrate on her display.

Ignoring the byplay, Daren frowned down at the plot and made an adjustment to the settings. "Helm," he said once he was satisfied with the corrections. "Once we separate and move to engage, bring us in on an initial vector of Point Eight Nine. That should minimize the Hydran's ability to bring weapons to bear until we've made our initial run."

Darkstar acknowledged the Captain with a wordless nod and

As the Galaxy continued onwards towards its destination and the inevitable conflict, Dhanishta tried to keep her mind from what would follow. They had all been there, many times before. The battle was never pretty, never easy and never finished. For some reason it perpetuated, with one adversary or another. No matter how far they advanced in a social context, or a technological context or special awareness, this situation cropped up time and again. Dhanishta drew in a long halting breath, her nerves causing her insides to quiver. Did the Federation have a target branded on to its metaphorical forehead? Was there a reason that everyone appeared to come after them? Or was she blind to the conflicts of others? And what was the reason this time? As much as she despised the Dominion she understood and sympathized to a degree with their reasoning for the war. Even the Borg had a somewhat noble cause, even though she disagreed with it she could understand the reasoning behind. But the Hydrans? What had they done to piss them off? Was she totally ignorant of interstellar politics?

The rising tension and heightening emotions from those around her pulled her back into the here and now, though she would rather be anywhere else but here, wouldn't everyone? Behind her she could feel the steely resolve of her Captain, the determination that set into his aged features and the experience contained behind his dark eyes. His thoughts tumbled through her mind, flowing with the other bridge officer's surface thoughts like a sea of background noise in a crowded bar; a word of two definable, pitching over the other voices, then gently lulling back to mingle back into sound only. She began to hum softly, focusing her mind on something other than the chorus behind that would eventually crescendo into a feverish pitch as and when the drama unfolded. There was something comforting about the tune, inspiring and uplifting. Quietly she began to sing the lyrics, " Qoy qeylIs puqloD, Qoy puqbe'pu'," letting her instincts take over as she manned her station, her focus divided between listening intently to what M'Kantu vocalized and concentrating on her duties, " yoHbogh malthbogh je' SuvwI', Sey'moHchu' may' 'Iw..." she continued to sing under her breath.

Tired of the anticipation, yet hungry for the taste of battle, Jamson stared at the view screen ignoring completely of his surroundings. He could clearly hear the humming of the engines, the voices of his fellow crew members and his annoying console, beeping and flashing constantly. After launching the separation process, most of the tracking systems returned to automatic computer control, and still, Michael had plenty to do, but that could wait. They were on the verge of war, and on times such as these, as a ritual, he always took a few moments to himself. Examining and reviewing his life was essential for the veteran operations department head, it was similar to a preparation ceremony, relaxing and sharpening one's body and mind right before entering battle. He's done that before, many times, but it seemed like that on every fight, battle or war, he found out more about himself. He was a strict Starfleet officer who worked by the book and by his own beliefs, and for a certain amount of times, it worked. But the book and his instincts collided more than a few times which led to a painful lesson, and years of walking through the path of shame. For years he believed that dying by the sword, in a glorious battle, or simply by performing his duties, would present an honorable death, but as he aged and wisdom overcame pride, he started to question this 'ending'. Was there a life after Starfleet? Was he bound to ships and stations for life? Doing the will of others and not having a life of his own? He knew he had a choice, but Starfleet was all he knew. The dream of the 4 pips that became a reality years ago, was now lost, and looked further away than ever.

'Enough with the softness...' Jamson almost slapped himself. What have become of him? A familiar sound penetrated through the other voices and distractions on the bridge, and at first was nothing more than a distinctive sound effect. As the lieutenant focused on making something of it, it gradually turned out to be a tune. Searching for the right words, he instantly recited in his mind 'Hear! sons of Kahless...'. What a joy it was, someone was whispering the Klingon anthem. ' Hear! Daughters too. The blood of battle washes clean'. Wondering who it was, yet not turning his head, Jamson could only guess. It was must have been Dhanishta Eshe, the Chief engineer. She had a Klingon background, has much as he had. They even discussed it on several occasions. There was a Klingon expression, 'Death is an experience best shared'. And since the entire ship was facing possible annihilation, why wouldn't he share it? "Sey'moHchu' may' 'Iw maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu' nI'be'yInmaj 'ach wovqu'!"

An irritated gaze targeted his back. Saul Bental was getting frustrated by the moment. First there were the stupid jokes, and then there was the singing - in Klingonese, of all the filthy languages of the universe. Was there a single duty officer on the bridge who realized that they were about to launch themselves against a space station and possibly several enemy spacecraft? Perhaps THEY needed their armed ripped off by a maniac, just to remind them how real the danger was!

The time for relieving tension was long passed. Now they were supposed to focus on one thing only, and that was to make sure they'll see this through alive.

Saul held back his tongue. Let the Captain put Hunter, Jamson and Eshe in their place; it was his job, not Saul's. He was just glad that the man by who controlled the Stardrive's weapon arsenal was the only person in the universe Saul's truly trusted.

Himself.

"Eyes forward, people," Daren spoke up as the ten-second countdown to saucer release started. "It's our turn to share."

=/\= Three =/\=

=/\= Two =/\=

=/\= One =/\=

"Now."

"And Now A Word From Our Sponsors..."

**Starring** Pilot Taev "Stubbs", Sabre Two, Vangard Squadron
With special guests, the crew of the USS Galaxy!

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

Brought to you by Sluggo-Cola, the official beverage of the Federation/Triad War!

Now, all the bitterness and four times the caffiene with SluggoMax!

Blind taste tests prove that Klingons prefer the taste of SluggoMax to prune juice over eight-to-one.

SluggoMax... the Warriors' Drink!

And by Nagus Brand Hupyrian Beetle Snuff! When you really, really need to purge those sinuses of nasal plaq, use what Nagus Rom prefers - Nagus Brand Hupyrian Beetle Snuff!

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

"I'm reporting almost live here in the forward lounge of the Galaxy-class... USS Galaxy... I'm sorry, but that sounds stupid! Galaxy-class USS Galaxy? I mean, c'mon, were dealing with the Ferengi News Network here, not some hew-mon war correspondence. FNN'll laugh their lobes off at that. Let's start again, OK?"

//OK.//

"Good. You'll record over this, and scramble my face and voice - right? I mean if Quattro or the Captain finds out about this, my slig'll be cooked... you know what I mean?"

//No problems Taev. Re-record and scramble all your personal features, got it.//

"Great, 'cos as bad as 'Casanova' was at restricting my personal freedoms, that four-armed piece of slig-bait's worse. And he's got more sharp, pointy instruments of dismemberment in his quarters than Kol did!"

//You've been in his quarters? He knows that?//

"Probably not. Had to get some... paperwork. Yeah, that's the ticket. And get the lay of the land and all that, right? We ready to go?//

//Sure. Recorded over, and scrambling on. Let's roll.//

"OK. 3....2...1... I'm reporting almost live here in the forward lounge of the USS Galaxy, a Federation starship on the front lines against they fearsome and credit-strapped Hydran Monarchy! It's empty right now - no paying customers, no sweet sound of the flow of Sluggo-Cola to be heard. This ship is racing towards DS5 at high warp, and all crew are at their posts ready for battle. But we're Ferengi's right? The Ferengi Security Exchange's done their bit and insured the correct real-estate and 3rd party liabilities? The profit's made, so what's left? CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS OF COURSE! Follow me, and we'll take a tour throught this grand old ship. See the crew! Explore the facilities! Troll for Oo-Mox!"

//Uh, Taev? Ix-nay on the Oo-Mox-may?//

"Huh?"

//No Oo-Mox - it'll change the rating of the broadcast.//

"Oh. Sorry. Well, let's explore the ship that couldn't cut it as the Federation's flagship, even though the Galaxy was the first of the Galaxy-class.... ah BAAAAAAN! I did it again!"

//You're hopeless.//

"What?"

//Never mind. We'll just cut it out. Don't worry about it.//

"Good, 'cos my ass is Gorn fodder if you don't."

OOC: Takes place prior to the "Big Calvary" JPs.

"March of the ARCs"
or
"The thoughts of Greg Ward before something risky"

by
2nd Lieutenant Greg Ward
SFMC Special Operations Lead, USS Galay

And his amazing rocket commandos...err...
the Members of SA-779 "Fox Hound"
ARC unit of the USS Galaxy
--ONPCs.

with special guest star
Gunnery SGT Niklaas Furji
---ONPC

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

",,,frelling Hydrans..."

"Well, least we're not bored anymore..."

"Yeah, we traded in one taskmaster fer another with that Staggie didn't we, Donut?"

"And again I say that in easy terms about the hot booty that is our own Miss sh'Akledor...boom chica chica bow bow.."

Snippets, that's all that Greg Ward heard as he slowly finished getting his marine combat armor on. There was a number of things on his mind ranging from his orders from ARC Central Operations about spilting his team up and giving command of it to newly minted Captain Daniel "Devastator" Flowers, the son of his late commanding officer in the ARCs, and possibly being given one of the ARC's toughest top kicks in the form of Master Sergeant Walter Brigand who according to Zim was even more of a hard ass than Zim was...which was saying something.

Plus the whole thing with himself and London. Shuttlebutt around the "country" as he and his fellow marines called their portion of the starship "Galaxy" was that London was seeing the hulking Capellian in Maivia. Greg wasn't too sure about the newly minted marine captain as apparentally he switched from a naval MOS to marines shortly after the incident over the romulan capital because of London.

"...and why pray tell Grace do we need a Bio Fusion Gun nine hundred series rifle..."

"Because Church keeps complaining that we don't got enough firepower, Simmons."

"*HEY*!!!"

As the member of special assault squad seven seven nine got ready in their own ways behind him, Greg finished getting his armor on and started doing a weapons check as he started putting his gear into their proper places and doing a mental checklist as he did so, but before he did that he turned around and looked directly at Donut with his dark brown eyes. "DONUT!"

The young man from the late New Providence colony quickly turned around and faced his CO. "Sir?"

"Donut, I want a PTP link set up in case something goes wrong with Station to Ship communications. Also, I want Caboose toting the Z Six in his transport module just in case the fraking Hydrans try to pull something that they shouldn't...wouldn't want them getting cocky just because they took one of our stations, RIGHT!?" Greg said in crisp, clear tones to which his troopers simply said one thing:

"YES SIR!"

As the group started getting their things together while Caboose traded out one weapon for the larger Z-6 "Vindicator" Phaser Rotary Cannon, Greg started running down his weapon's checklist:

1 MK2 Phaser Pistol in Transport Module-CHECK
2 BR55 Battle Rifles, 1 on bench next to me and one in Transport Module-CHECK
1 S2-AM Sniper Rifle in Transport Module-CHECK
1 Klingon Kut'luch in right boot knife sheath-CHECK
1 Standard Issue SFMC K-Bar Fighting Knife-CHECK
1 "Close Encounters Special" in the TM-CHECK

As Greg double checked the Kut'luch that he got during some unpleasentness during the brief Klingon Conflict prior to the start of the Dominion War, the burly form of the Bajoran Gunnery Sergeant in Niklaas Furji made his way over to the half-Trill and waited for the other man to come to his full height before saying anything as the other ARCs moved around the two men.

"Son, I know that you've got alot of shit on your mind right now because as they say when an LT gets shit it rolls down hill but I got a need to know if your head is in the game because there is alot of shit riding on this op." Furji said in a sharp tone to the other marine as the two men looked each other in the eyes.

"Yeah, I know Sarge.." Greg started to say but the Bajoran NCOM got in closer and started speaking in a low tone.

"We're all strung out of shape right now because of alot of shit, Snake. Even me but we need to stay frosty and alert. We can't afford to let one of those bastards in here at all. Now, is your head in the game?"

Greg didn't say anything when he shouted "SAS SEVEN NINE SEVEN, FALL THE FUCK IN!!" and his squad did just that, their weapons at the ready as they stood at attention. The half-trill stepped around the bajoran SGT and walked down the isle of the well trained, heavily armed marine specialists.

"Alright troopers, I know that the skuttlebutt is saying alot of shit that don't make no sense but I know a couple of things that do make sense. One is that while we've only been serving under this Stagorian Colonel for a couple of weeks doesn't mean that he's soft or any shit like that."

Greg caught the gaze of each ARC as he walked down the row and back up again as he continued to speak.

"The other thing that I know makes sense is that this is the kind of op that the project that spawned this unit was created for. A hard hitting mission to save our fellow beings no matter who they are because we are the devil dogs with the biggest bite AND bark. We are the ARCs, Advance Recon Commandos and we are the pride of generations of special forces units this side of the old Rangers program. Now, We got asses to kick, so...FOX HOUND, DEPLOY!"
Greg said adding the last part as a shout to which the marines said:

"U-RAH!!"

As Greg lead the ARCs out of the locker room, suddenly Grif got a smirk on his face as he turned to his fellow trooper and said, "Hey, Simmons..."

"Yeah?"

Grif's smirk turned into a full blown shit eating grin as he said "Just one thing. Shotgun!" before taking off full tilt to where the ARCs where getting with their fellow marines.

Simmons on the other hand actually stopped for a second with a wide eyed expression on his face as he said "FUCK!" before running to catch up to the others.

OOC: Parts of this post begin before we arrive on scene, and most after.

"The Cavalry Arrives!" Part One

Colonel For'kel Arvelion
Lt. Ella Grey
1st Lieutenant Branwen London
Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia
Corporal Dr. Cianan Tierney
Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
Captain Jaal Jaxom
Cmdr. Arel Smith, apc
PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell
PO3 Victory

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

(Shuttle Bay)

The falling of boots rhythmically pounding the deck of one of Galaxy's shuttle-bays set the environment as the Marines and attached Starfleet personnel entered the cavernous area. Support staff raced from hopper to hopper, fighter to fighter, preparing what auxiliary craft the Galaxy had on hand for the impending, critical operation.

Normally the hoppers were flown by well trained Marine aviators, specially indulged in the full array of strengths and weaknesses the utilitarian 'hopper' had. With the need for every rifleman he could get his hands on however, For'kel thought it best to ask for volunteers to fly so his pilots could fight. In that case, the destruction of a large portion of fighters and shuttles previously was actually a blessing in disguise, it freed up a reserve of pilots that would now be pulling hopper duty.

A number of other officers and enlistees from other departments were also attached to the Furies for this rescue missions. Taken together they represented probably every aspect of the crew, and the best virtues of Starfleet and the Federation. They were quite simply common men, about to engage in an action where, as the saying went, uncommon valor would be a common virtue. For'kel himself wondered just how many of them would make it back... and against the general consensus advice had in fact prepared a 'death letter' for Berilyn in the event that he wouldn't be one of them. Here's h oping that she would never have to watch it.

The Stagnorian slung his rifle over his shoulder. Everyone who could get clearance from Operations was wearing the Marine combat armor, every ounce of protection, and every millimeter of advantage over the enemy would be utilized. "Alright everyone, listen up. Our primary objective is the rescue of the survivors. We will land, secure the LZ, fight our way to them, secure an escape route, and begin extracting them. The wounded and unarmed civilians will be evacuated first. After that, our secondary objective is to guarantee the station is no longer in Hydran hands, either by destroying it or re-capturing it. I'd prefer the latter, but I'm certainly not going to risk letting them keep it either. This, will be our fall back area." He accessed an LCARS display on the shuttle bay bulkhead, showing a schematic of the station and pointing t o the docking port area where several starships were according to the latest scans. "My combat engineers will set demolitions along the main anti-matter transfer lines and storage tanks that normally supply docked ships. If we get into significant trouble and have to bail, the code word 'Alamo' will be sounded, and you 'all' will have five minutes to evacuate the station before those explosives go off, and the secondary explosions they cause blows DS Five across the quadrant. We'll be out of direct transporter range to the Galaxy, so using the isolinear tags we'll be giving out to the evacuees, or commandeering an escape pod, shuttle, or other kind of ship will be your only alternatives. Questions?"

Her dark eyes surveyed the dull surroundings and attempted not to meek out a timid 'no' from her position. Sandwiched in between brawn and more brawn, she felt that her armor was protecting her not o nly from the Hydrans, but from the sweat soaked comrades that offered her a small brawny grin from time to time. Glancing down at her phaser, then upwards, she would have felt more comfortable if she had a massive volume of the latest diplomatic protocols to protect herself with. Her mission was to help with the survivors, yet....she inwardly wondered if there were any left.

Branwen shook her head no. Everything was clear, and she was ready. Her heart was pounding with the adrenalin surge. It had been a while since she had seen action, and the last couple of actions had not ended that well. Damn bad luck, not lack of skill but still. And this time her boyfriend was in the mix as well. It made her slightly nervous, hoping she would not be worrying about Man'darr the whole time.

Man'darr stood with the majority of his platoon. He knew if they had any chan ce of holding onto the station after landing, his Marines would have to be the first off of the Hoppers in order to begin laying down a heavy amount of fire and cover the remaining hoppers that would be incoming. They would have to set up and take positions fast while hauling the heavier crew-served weapons. Being with Branwen in this fight brought back memories from when they had met each other for the first time during the Battle of Romulus.

Cian?n stood at attention with his team. It was a new experience to be leading. His team was divided into anyone with medical training and others. Those with medical training would stabilize any critically wounded during evacuation and transport. The others would act as first line protection. With his Angosian senses on full alert Cian?n could detect the increase in hormones associated with pre-battle. It was intoxicating and brought the slightest raise to the corner of his lip i n a devilish grin. He had only been on the Galaxy for a short while and already seeing his first combat scenario. Some of his hesitation for the assignment faded with the anticipation. Simultaneously a section of his mind reviewed the armor and weapons he carried. All seemed functional. He could easily grab for a weapon or a hypospray - he was ready.

That goofy lopsided grin caught Ophelia off guard. 'Weird.' she thought to herself.

A platinum blonde Bajoran combat medic, a corporal by the name of Delar Sasha and veteran of the 101st's mission on Romulus raised her hand, a smirk crossing her features. "And if we retake the station, sir?"

"Then I'll see you all on the Promenade when all's said and done, with a victory to celebrate." The Colonel's eyes went over the torrential wave of faces that made up the assault force to see how everyone reacted. "Keep your weapon s on heavy stun unless absolutely necessary. This is primarily a rescue operation, and I don't want to have to explain to family members how someone survived a Hydran invasion only to get killed by their own people in a rescue attempt. Remember your training and your tactics. Stay sharp, stay professional, and stay focused. Let's get this done people, board your hoppers and prepare for disembarkation."

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

(Deep Space 5- Just Prior to the Landing)

Still a little bruised from the little fracas he had earlier, Max still went about the task of ensuring readiness for immediate evac. Whenever that's going to be, he thought sarcastically. He still stung from Captain Jaxom's little talk about being a professional, and maintaining control. The people who were causing all the ruckus were more or less docile for the time being, but who knew when they'd start up again?

He checked the figures on his PADD yet again, not wanting any mistakes or any more issues, especially with the civilians. They gave him a wary eye after what happened between him and Tyler Fox, but that really couldn't be helped anymore. Max looked around for Victory, wanting to be sure she was always in eyesight of him and vice-versa. Besides being friends, they were also watching each other's backs, as Huele and Pepper were watching each other as well. In case of any more mishaps.

Victory glanced up from her own work in time to see Max looking in her direction. She waved at him, giving him a reasuring smile. Ever since the incident with Fox everyone had been on edge. The civilians were getting restless, upset and frustrated as time went on. She did not know how much longer untill another fight broke out and people got hurt or worse. The murmers spreading through the crowd...the hushed whisperes that quieted further as one of the Starfleet personnel came by left an uncomfortable feeling in the back of her mind.

Max waved back at her, and smiled. Then he returned his attention to the critical patient list. They needed to be moved within at least the next two hours or there would be more body bags to fill. And Max had just about enough of that.

Folding her tricorder closed she reassured the last of the patiants on her check list, then made her way through the crowd twords where Max was working. "Okay, I've finished counting the last group in my area" she said as she drew close to him. "Where do you need me next?"

"Um..." was all Max said for a moment. One minute his mind was furiously working on something, the next, it suddenly became a complete blank. A split second of panic later he composed himself, realizing that he had a brain fart, not a stroke. "Well, stay with me a while. I need the company. And I could use an extra pair of eyes, if you know what I mean."

"Yea, I know what you mean" Victory replied as she fell into step along side Max. "How are you holding up?" she asked, she could tell he was still stressed. Everyone was.

"Don't worry, Vic," he replied with a smirk. "I'm not going to try to kill anyone today...least not intentionally." Then he took on a more somber expression.

"Did you know that I spent my 33rd birthday here? Not that I ever celebrated it much, mind you. It simply hit me that instead being off somewhere reflecting on life, I was and still am here fighting for it. Both theirs and mine," he added, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the 'bad' civilians.

Victory nodded. "It was your birthday?" she asked. "What a horrible way to have to celebrate it" she sighed. "You know if we get out of here we should go celebrate it better than this" Giving her a deadpan serious look, he asked, "Is that a date?"

In another room, Jaal was making final preparations for blowing the station's computer core and his own plans for being one of the last ones off to make sure that happened. He, June, and Aina had gone over the same plan so in case one of them was incapacitated for some reason, one of the other two could could complete the task.

It wasn't easy to ask such a young cadet and a civilian to do such a big job but there was no one else around that would do it properly. He checked the power cell on the phaser rifle he'd been carrying and slung it over his shoulder, then checked the other rifle that had been found in a security storage locker. Both were ready to go.

The Trill looked up to the ceiling for a moment, 'Soon,' he thought, 'It's gotta happen soon... before the civilians freak out again.'

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

(Landing Zone 'Alpha'- Deep Space 5)

A mass of craft fluttered from the Galaxy's launch bays. They made a mad sub-light dash for the confines of Deep Space Five, with withering fire from the Hydran task force standing between them and the relative 'safety' of the target LZ. It was inevitable, For'kel supposed, that one of them would be stricken by the starship caliber weapons systems the Hydrans mounted in their direction. They were forced to fly in close formation, great for landing quickly in a confined area, but hardly optimal for out maneuvering incoming enemy weapons. He watched one hopper, carrying a squad of Marines from his platoon, explode. Just completely, utterly, annihilated. Seven people, two pilots and five Marines, were erased from existence.

Others followed, one of the hoppers carrying medical supplies intended for the survivors were next, then one of the hoppers carrying some of the volunteers popped like an erupting light bulb, killing twelve. Were it not for the way the Hydrans were forced to divert their fire, casualties would have been higher... higher than the twenty-one already dead before they'd even landed.

"Touchdown in three, two, one," Ella Grey said as she landed th eir hopper. Her heartbeat was racing but she took a small second of satisfaction in that the landing was as smooth as possible given the situation. She had a nasty feeling the return trip wouldn't be as nice - if they didn't blow up before that was.

The Hopper came in hot, barely slowing down enough for the crew to disembark. The doors slid open as the deck appeared as the Hopper's armor absorbed the small arms fire from Hydran guards in the LZ. Man'darr was the first to leap out of the Hopper, carrying a Type-4 Pulse Rifle as the rest of his platoon followed and immediately leapt off to the sides, sliding into the Prone positions on the deck. A moment later the sounds of the Heavy Automatic Phaser Pulse Rifle sounded. One pulse had hit an unsuspecting Hydran Guard, literally ripping his body apart as the pulse's energy impacted the biological flesh of the Hydran. Man'darr kept on the move as he began to lay down a steady stream of phaser fire, buying time for the rest of his platoon to get into position.

The realization that the apparently always quiet Ella Grey had 'said' something struck For'kel. Struck like a brick of the facade of a skyscraper actually. Was she 'trying' to jinx everyone and get them killed? Sparring the pilot a smile he made his way off the hopper, rifle on his shoulder while the two squads with him flanked either side of the craft. While Man'darr's men took care of the guards on the shuttle's level, For'kel's troops established a firing line that when rather quickly, and rather systematically, about the task of eliminating opposition on the upper level.

Within a couple of minutes the shuttle bay and it's immediately surrounding areas were solidly within Marine hands. Enemy weapons and stunned Hydrans were being gathered together for shuttle transport back to the Galaxy, and the transporter inhibitors being used by the enemy also prevented them from beaming in reinforcements to the poor Hydran troops unfortunate enough to get lambasted by the surprising speed and force with which the Marines were able to move.

The fighting was going so smoothly, and they were advancing so quickly, that For'kel's intuition said 'something' was about to go wrong in a major way. They definitely needed to prepare for it. For'kel set one of his explosive charges on a feeding line directly from the anti-matter tanks stored below the shuttle bay deck for the use of the station's auxiliary craft fleet. "Maivia, lock down this shuttle bay and prep the LZ for evac of the prisoners and the survivors. London, Tierney, search out and destroy any Hydran laggers along the evacuation route, and secure the escape path. Everyone else with me."

Setting the charge's detonation command to his tricorder and storing the execution command protocols for later, he started his way to where the message had given as the resistance's location. They were about to see if the rescue had come too late.

"On it, sir!" Branwen shouted and got her troops into gear.

Maivia nodded. "Yes, sir." He then turned to his platoon. "I want three fire teams on the upper level. Position the Heavy Pulse Phaser Repeater and the Semi-repeating Grenade launcher up there! I want those upper level doors leading into the station wielded shut! The rest, entrench in here!"

"Aye, sir!" The Marines hurried about as they headed for the elevators that would take them to the second level as others began to set up defensive positions and fortifications about the shuttlebay.

===

(Evaluation Route & Escape Path)

Cian?n's group was ordered to keep the path clean. During the melee it would be where the most critically injured would be taken for evacuation

His feet firmly on the deck of DS5 his senses were on fire. Cian?n's men (and women!) picked off Hydrans one by one as they made their way into the bowels of the facility. He watched as the marine psychologist deftly held her own. Another smile passed across his lips at the irony - a physician and psychologist running down a corridor with fireworks erupting from their hands landing squarely in the chest's of the enemies. Who said only Klingons enjoyed battle?

Cian?n would merely point to his team ordering them to stop for wounded. It was a different tactic than during the Tarsian Wars. No one stopped to help the soldiers. Next to him one of his team went down. Cian?n returned fire at the aggressor and stopped. The marine took the pulse in the face. The kid's skin was fried, he was limp and lifeless on the ground. Cian?n didn't pause but continued with the rest of the troops down the corridor.

"A mas honor, mas dolor." Ophelia muttered as she raised her weapon and fired. As twisted as it was, she felt a little charge emotionally as she viewed the Hydran slump to the ground.

London felt proud as she saw her squad do what they were supposed to do with minimum casualties. All the training had paid off, and she had never felt so proud as today. Next to her she saw Tierney's team perform well as well. It was still had to do list to get to know him better, it would probably have to wait until after this mission.

The corridor was as secure as it was going to be. All around Hydrans were dead. The marines took some casualties but nothing substantial. The combat medics were on site administering palliative care to some and restorative care to others. Cian?n had his hands pressed against a gaping wound while reaching into his kit to cauterize the wound. Blood pooled around his hands as without thought he administered treatment.

Hurrying over to the man in charge, she placed her hand over his and nodded at him. "I've got it...."

Cian?n offered a curt nod for the assistance. His right hand moved into a med kit and pulled out a hypo filled with a coagulant agent. He injected the substance at the site. Moments later the blood thickened substantially and the wound became sticky. Cian?n slapped an isolinear tag on the wounded marine.

"Keep going! Get the wounded to safety." Cian?n ordered over the melee. Simultaneously he grabbed a phaser from the jacket of the wounded marine and fired. The blood dripped from his coated hand.

For'kel and his platoon's Bajoran medic moved through the maze of corridors, clearing each room as quickly as they could. A simple tricorder scan was enough to tell if it was occupied, given that the Hydrans couldn't risk trying to jam scanners out of fear of neutralizing there own devices. When it was occupied by a Hydran, a simple photonic grenade was tossed in. The rest of the Marines moved in through the adjacent corridors, likewise using the element of surprise to their advantage. They'd moved a full two-hundred and fifty meters before the sound of Starfleet phasers started coming from in front of them. A pair of Hydrans howled as one of these new blasts struck, blasting his methane tank. Were it not for Sasha's quick thinking in pulling him back, Fork would probably have gotten dinged by an eye-stalk or the like.

Instead, he got a right hook to the nose.

"Fucking Tripod ... " a voice growled before making a grunt and then offering the fallen man a hand. "Oops."

"Ooops?!" For'kel looked up with mock irritation, the relief of seeing his sister by ceremony alive and well far outweighing the aggravation of nearly being hit. "You nearly smack me with Hydran guts and all you can say is 'Ooops'?!"

"Took you long enough," Arel Smith said to her brother. "Being having tea with the missus or something?"

"You got me. It was such a lovely day for a stroll in the middle of a damned 'war'. Where the 'hell' do you think I've been?!" The Corporal helped him up to his feet, but For'kel . "We were waiting to come save your sorry asses Smith... 'again' I might add." By now he couldn't hide the 'glad to see you' smile. "Glad to see the rumors were wrong."

Jaal, behind his XO because she wouldn't let him take the point, grinned. "Fork! Am I GLAD to see you!"

"Likewise." The Stagnorian grabbed his Trill comrade's arm just short of the elbow. "But reunions will have to wait. I don't have much time, and I need your wounded and unarmed civilians ready to move. We've got hoppers in the shuttlebay."

"Equilibrium" Part Two

Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile - CO 1st Platoon SFMC Furies
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief Engineer

(Set before 'Russian Roulette' during 'Crackin Jewels')

***USS Galaxy, Marine Barracks, En Route to DS5***

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Dhanishta asked suddenly turning round to face him.

He looked a bit puzzled. "Vaguely, but yeah.."

"I thought you were an arrogant son-of-a-bitch." she said whimsically, a soft smile on her lips. Not that she needed to buffer her criticism, of all the people on the ship he could take it on the chin without malice. "I..." she halted, deliberated yet again, just like she had then, and since.

She took the plunge, "I think I was on medical leave at the time. I was angry, frustrated and exasperated. So many damned counseling sessions, I wanted to shoot them all at point blank range. But through it all I got nothing out of it, they.." she paused thinking, "*They* got nothing out of *me*."

She focused on him once more, "But you," she told him earnestly, "within just seconds of meeting you, I confessed things that I had not told a soul." She didn't realize it but she had been pacing all thought that narrative. She stopped and faced him. "I despise you." she said frowning, uncertain, "I wanted to kill you, and I know that the only thing that stopped you from killing me is that uniform you wear."

She held up a finger to stall his interruptions. He was a 'point' man, liked people to say what they meant rather than back it up with a life story first. "I still want you dead, a part of me does," she frowned again. What she said was truth, but the balance in is favor seemed to tip more right now. "Out of everyone on this ship I can talk to you. Not Brian or Bran or Kimberly... not even my own sister. But you." she finished softly.

She wanted him dead? Not small wonder, he thought to himself. It would have been a big wonder if she hadn't. What did one say when faced with words such as that? Baile had no idea. So he did the only thing he could. He listened.

Dhanishta shook her head thinking, trying to penetrate that stare of his. She knew that all she had to do was listen and she would hear his thoughts, but that would let the others in too. "I understand you." she began slowly, "And I don't.." she trailed off. Why was it so difficult to say those words? Why couldn't she just tell him? He confessed to her, she would be slightly arrogant herself to believe that she was the only one he confessed these things to, why couldn't she confess to him? She shook her head again, let the frustration out in a slow exhale.

Resigning, she offered him a rueful smile, "I understand is all." she said finding a chair and relinquishing into it. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot off the table-leg in font of her, chewing on the insides of her cheeks with mild annoyance at her inability to help herself.

He felt a restlessness inside he couldn't understand. It troubled him. "Then.." he started but stopped. A faint sigh escaped him. "I remember almost nothing from Romulus and yet I do... but I don't remember them as? me?"

Dhanishta nodded, though she was unaware she was doing so. "It's like looking through a kaleidoscope," she muttered softly, reclining into the seat and hitching her feet on the end of the coffee table, "images swirl about without distinction, just colors, the occasional texture or sound perhaps?" she trailed off with a gentle shrug staring lethargically at the floor, "Or looking through the wrong side of a magnifying glass, the image is so close that you cant tell what it is, or too far away... makes no difference really, you still can't quite grasp it?" she shrugged again, feeling slightly depressed she lent against the head rest and let her eyelids flutter closed for a moment, unaware of just how relaxed she felt - with Baile just mere feet away from her.

The marine sat down as well on the edge of the bed. He looked at his the back of his hands, the scorpion and the mark of chaos, looked at the palm of his hands. Slowly his head sank down. "I'm tired... so very tired?" he said in a low voice. "..and scared out of my mind.." It wasn't easy to admit it. Not even to himself, but he was. He was terrified of how torn he felt. The marines had always been his family, the Crows the closest ones, but still family. No more. Was his desire to meet up with his old friends a desperate attempt to find a place to fit in once more?

Dhanishta looked over to him, a compassionate expression washed over her face. She understood. In the unity of their pain, anguish and fear she stood up, crossed the room and sat down beside him. Never had she been this close to Baile without one of them bleeding, though metaphorically they both were; on the inside. She wrapped an arm around him in an attempt to comfort.

"I'm just so very tired."

"I know." She whispered back squeezing his shoulder gently. For a moment she was silent, holding Baile this close to her was something she could have never foreseen. But right now it was as much for herself as it was for him.

He concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In and out, until the hurricane of impulses faded. It was as if he was two persons. One part of him wanted nothing but to sit there, in peace and accept Dhani's comfort. The other side, that which grew stronger and stronger each day, wanted nothing more than to get away before he hurt someone else. Like Dhani.

"Baile?" Dhani murmured moments later, "What did happen back there, on Romulus?" she asked him. "I remember so little." She confessed. She let her arm slide from his body, placing it upon her lap. She stared at her hands for a time, listening to his breathing beside her.

Memories of Romulus invaded his thoughts. Blurry and confusing images flashed by. So many holes. "What do you remember?" he finally asked her, not moving away from the bed even though that other part of him wanted to be as far away from the telepath as possible. That side would not win. Not right now.

She turned to face him, one leg half curled on the bed, the other supporting her on the floor. "I remember being on the Hammer, I remember what happened all the way up to leaving," she paused thinking, "I remember freezing," she said pensively staring at his torso as she tried to sort out the memory in her mind, "we were fighting the Hydran, trying to get to an escape pod, I?"

Why he did it he didn't really know. But carefully he wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently. "I remember.. waking up in Hydran captivity. I still don't know how I got there... "

The embrace was unexpected, but then everything had been so far. Just talking to him, without biting at each other, or throwing out random insults; the fact that he used her name instead of some other woman's, the fact that he hadn't tried to strangle her? she pulled back some, turned her face to look into his and with an expression of deep remorse and confessed the one thing she hadn't told a living soul, "Baile, I tortured one of them. In the command centre on the Hammer. We infiltrated the ship, stormed the bridge and captured one of them, and I.." she stumbled on her words, unsure why she was telling him, perhaps it was because she knew that he must have done similar things, he would understand. She closed her eyes, "I enjoyed it." she said slowly shaking her head. "I?" she trailed off. She hadn't told anyone about that, not even spoken about it with Jonas since it happened; she had left it out of her report, made something up, though she couldn't recall what.

So many people wanted to 'help' her with her problems, with her conscience, but she couldn't let them see what a deviant she really was. Who could love someone that could possibly enjoy torturing another being? She waited for the inevitable disgust, followed by revulsion and for him to then move away from her as if she had let out the biggest smelliest fart in the history of the universe. Closing her eyes tightly she stiffened; anticipating his rejection that would rip the wound within just that bit more.

"Equilibrium" Part Three

Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile - CO 1st Platoon SFMC Furies
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief Engineer

***USS Galaxy, Marine Barracks, En Route to DS5***

So many people wanted to 'help' her with her problems, with her conscience, but she couldn't let them see what a deviant she really was. Who could love someone that could possibly enjoy torturing another being? She waited for the inevitable disgust, followed by revulsion and for him to then move away from her as if she had let out the biggest smelliest fart in the history of the universe. Closing her eyes tightly she stiffened; anticipating his rejection that would rip the wound within just that bit more.

He kept his arms around her, just as relaxed as they had been before she had spoken. He had his own faint and faded memory of crossing the line so many years ago. Hadn't his reaction been similar? Disgust and revulsion at his own actions? He wasn't sure. The events had blended in with all the other shit he had done over the years. But he knew one thing. "War sometimes? makes us discover things about ourselves that we may not like." And that was it. He would offer her no solution because he had none, but judging her? That would make him the largest hypocrite in history.

So he kept holding her.

Dhanishta found little solace in his words, but his embrace, that he didn't let her go, or tell her she was wrong; that made up for the emptiness she felt from the truth of his words. She tightened her arms around him, let her head come to rest on his shoulder and felt her body relax some.

"It wasn't me." She whispered after some time, choking on the lump that rose in her throat. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, across her nose and gather till the weight of the next that glided down the same path caused it to fall and soak into the fabric of his shirt. She held him tighter, trying her best not to let herself completely break down. For a time she was silent, battling against the tears and anguish that threatened to take all her composure.

The silence fell between them again, but not the kind of awkward silence that could take place when not being sure of what to do. It was a comfortable silence, one without accusations and it was broken by Baile.

"I know." Who could understand it better than him? He could feel when she was in control and when she wasn't as surely as he could see it was day when the sun was up.

"What's happening to me?" Dhanishta let out in a tiny voice, struggling against the lump and the urge to weep for eternity.

He said nothing. No matter what he could have said would have been complete and utter bullshit. It would have been the kind of answer people give when they have no idea what to say but not enough brains to keep quiet.

Her control lapsed as she asked the question that she knew he could not answer, the one that she couldn't herself, the one that so many others wanted answered by her. She buried her face in his shoulder, balled her fists around tufts of his shirt and hung on to him like the mast of a ship on a tidal wave as her tears forced their way through her barriers, and like the oceans; flooded the land.

Salt. Her tears smelled of that. It was a scent now forever engrained in his mind. A scent he would never forget. Ever. Silently he just sat there, holding her while the storm inside of her raged on.

Her sniffs and stifled haggard gulps for breath were the only sounds that filled the room. Outside the door the rest of the world continued with their preparations for war, oblivious to the pain contained within that single barren room. The question that Dhanishta asked was what both united her with the man she received comfort from and caused conflict with. She felt physically drained as her tears waned and her emotions subsided enough for her to breath unrestrained. Slowly she wiped the residue of tears away from her face with her sleeve, sniffed a few more times and opened her red rimed eyes.

She stared at the wall for a time, letting a flush of embarrassment pass as she gathered enough courage to venture speaking again. With everything she had been through with Baile to date she came to realize that there was nothing he hadn't seen. He held his composure in front of others, kept up the fa?ade of the 'big mean ogre', but beneath it he was just as terrified as the next man and she knew if he could, he would have cried with her.

Lifting her chin slightly she turned her lips to his ear, "What's happening to *us*?" she whispered, emphasizing 'us'. From his own confessions he too was feeling the strain brought on by that demon within. That unidentifiable demon within.

She let her grip relax, pulled back slowly to look into his face. She had hoped to ask her question with some humor, lighten both their moods. At least in some respects neither of them had to face this alone, but her whisper contained no traces of humor, her voice was flat and dry from crying and her question just seemed to reinforce the fact that there was something seriously wrong with the both of them, something that Dhani, at least, felt she had to hide from the rest of the world at all costs.

Again the silence. He couldn't answer that either. What was happening to them? Baile had no answers at all. "I don't know, Dhani.. I really don't..." his eyes stung like an open wound with salt in. "I just know it is best for everyone if I leave..."

The tears that she thought she had mastered control of defied her yet again. She cupped his cheek and stared into the pools of flaming amber that rested where two beautiful pools of subtle grey used to be. Her fingers slowly caressed his weathered cheeks, feeling the ridges of time that creased his skin, the scars from action that the likes of Baile could only bare witness to. Her eyes fluttered, blinking the tears from her vision, "If you run Jebidiah," she spoke softly, her voice wavering in the struggle, "your problems will follow. If you leave now, you will succumb to the anger, the fear and the animal inside. You can't let it win," she implored him tears streaking her face "You have to fight it Jeb, you have to." Her vision inevitably blurred and she lost sight of his face, her chin wobbled and her hands shook as they slowly released from his face and slid down his neck, coming to rest on his shoulders.

His hand rose up and softly touched her cheek. He hadn't touched a woman in that way since Maya died and wasn't sure he ever would again. Ever so gently his thumb wiped away one of the liquid gems slowly making its way down.

"I've already lost, Dhani. It's just a matter of time until.. until I'm gone.."

"No," Dhani almost broke, "I don't believe that." she told him tightening her grip on his shoulders. "If you think that then you will lose. And if you lose, what hope is there for me?" She sucked in her lips, forcing her face to stay straight.

"Look at me, Dhani.." he took her hands in his and squeezed gently. "I'm becoming someone.. something.. else.. I can feel it as surely as I can smell your tears.." The alien eyes locked with hers.

"I will loose that fight, but until I do my skills can help the Federation.. and we both know that I can't do anything while I'm here.. sooner or later I will hurt someone that rubs me the wrong way, even kill someone."

Dhani closed her eyes tight, forcing her face into submission. She shook her head slowly. She knew he was right, and it was selfish to try and force him to stay. She needed to see him succeed just to make herself feel better and that wasn't right. But she also knew that if he went, if he let it win, she would never be this close to him again, unless she was?

She took a deep breath and let the thought pass with a shiver. "I understand." She said quietly.

He let go of her hands and touched her cheek again. Her sadness was almost overwhelming and yet it served to strengthen his resolve even more. 'People like me should not be mourned nor missed.' he thought silently. "I've never made any excuses for who I am.. but now I no longer know who I am and... and.. I think the answer is out there.. somewhere."

Dhanishta let out a long sigh and nodded slowly. For a time she just stared at the floor. She felt her chest aching though she was not sure why. Slowly she let her eyes trail over the room and back to his form. Why she felt so empty she didn't know. Why she felt so strongly for him, again she didn't know. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt a twinge of betrayal towards Michael, but this was something else entirely. She didn't love Baile, not in the way she did Michael. But the connection she was feeling, somehow that did feel like cheating on her man. It wasn't the same, but she doubted he would see it that way.

Her fingers curled round his hand, tightened as she spoke, "No matter what anyone say's about you Jebidiah, no mater what you think of yourself, you are a good man." Her eyes shifted focus, locking on to him rather than the ether between them. "You are decent and loyal and I know you will do what is right." Her features turned stern, "Do you understand me?" she question slightly aggressively thumping his hand against his thigh, "You are a decent man Jebidiah Baile!" Her eyes could bore holes though him, demanding as they were.

He said nothing. What was there to say? Decent and a good man weren't words used to describe him. He had stopped being decent a long time ago, he realized. The contract with the devil had been signed the second Maya died. But she was right about the loyalty. It was that fading loyalty that drove him to help out in the war while he still felt any loyalty.

Stiffly Dhanishta stood. Her bones creaked from being sat so long, age and time caught up with all in the end. Her fingers, still curled around his, refused to let go; for that would be relinquishing this moment, this moment of tranquility and safety. She knew that once she left this room, walked out and left him alone in the darkness, that the next time they met on their personal battle field, nothing would stop him. Not words, emotions, grief or pain, not even this moment of unity. Blood would be spilled and she knew it would be hers.

Silently he let her go and stood up, fluidly and gracefully. He had nothing to say. Nothing he wanted to say. They would meet again and the outcome had been decided the moment Baile had stepped into the cave where he had lost his eyes.

Dhanishta let her eyes drink in this moment, let herself remember how it was now, how it could always be, yet never would be. Stepping forward she wrapped her arms tightly round him, pulling him close, closed her eyes and let her head rest on his shoulder. The distance was already growing; she could feel it rising within like a pot of water coming to boil.

Withdrawing slowly her hair caught on his stubble, she halted as her lips passed his ear, "I am not Larimar, and you are *not* Sarm." she told him with conviction, hoping and praying silently that he would heed her words in the days to come, that she might prevent his transformation. Only time would tell. Gathering her hair she flicked it over her shoulder, locked eyes with him once more, before stepping back from him and nodding respectfully. Without another word she left his quarters. The darkness encapsulating him as the door closed behind her with a soft swish.

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