"World's Finest, Part 6: Apples, Peaches, Pears and Such"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

=The Cave=

The silence was pervasive. The chirping voices of bats echoed in the cave, but even that seemed subdued by comparison. Light shifted in this dark place at least one questionably sane man called home, and the slight creaking of a hanging lamp added more shape to the dark corners.

Kara crossed her arms and just stared at Bruce evenly, unapologetic.

She was still furious with him for interfering. So what if the man had died? He'd threatened the little girl. As far as she was concerned, he gave up any right to compassion. Still, long enough under the unerring gaze of the Batman, she began to feel a bit of that irrational fear that had been so easy to discard not long before.

With a sigh, the Batman removed his cowl and tossed it aside. Alfred, who had come down to the Cave to check upon the returning heroes, began to say something - instinctively guessing perhaps that something had gone wrong - but Bruce held up a hand.

"Go."

The old man shook his head, nodded, and then left.

He turned back to face Kara, black eyes burning, "What happened?"

"Justice. Almost, anyway. Maybe we should try working together instead of being at cross-purposes."

Bruce frowned, "You could have killed him."

"It was a distinct possibility. The girl was being threatened. I reacted."

"Yes - you reacted. You reacted *badly*. You could have killed the girl. What exactly were you thinking; he had a weapon - heating gunpowder that quickly - if even a single bullet had gone off...."

"I..." she stopped. Her eyes fell aside as she thought back to the moment. "I couldn't let it happen again, Bruce. Not again."

"Let what happen?"

She walked up to him, searching his eyes, clinging to their familiarity as if her life depended on it. "I don't remember," she breathed, shaking. Her eyes welled up. He grasped her arms without thinking, holding her. Her expression steeled and she wiped her eyes. "I will, though."

One moment, she was there, close enough to smell and see and touch. The next, she wasn't. A rush of air kicked up dust in a trail that led to the cave's exit. He looked up at the swinging lamp and the spooked bats, who scattered to the dark recesses of his cave.

Bruce bowed his head as the emptiness of this place descended upon him.

He had these memories of Kara that felt...they felt like they belonged to a different life, like they were not real - and yet they were so vivid. He remembered holding her when she was naked, shivering, crying.

He remembered that she had kissed him once. He remembered that she was noble, kind.... What was unusual though was that she was the only thing around him now that he could remember. He had trusted her completely - but what had happened at the bank had shaken that trust....

He picked up a phone that dialed up to the mansion proper. Alfred, of course, answered.

"Master Bruce?"

"I need a boat, Alfred. Something fast."

"Like the Batboat, Sir?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Right. Of course. Thank you, Alfred."

"My pleasure, Sir."

He picked up his cowl then and simply stared at it, ignoring the furious bats above. There was so much loneliness in that simple mask, yet some measure of comfort also - it was possible to seperate the things he did as Batman from himself. Slowly, he put the mask on again.

"Computer," he said, his voice a broken whisper, "Pull up the file on Kara Zor-El...Supergirl. Show me her weaknesses."

"World's Finest, Part 7: Sitting in a Tree"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

=Elsewhere=

Supergirl ran through the streets of Gotham at a speed she could barely perceive. As she tried to deduce which of her perceptions were real, and which were false, she expected nothing to exist beyond the city.

She pushed with everything she had. Soon, she cleared Gotham and was running along country roads, through other cities, through fields, across mountains, and finally, across water. So much water.

She knew the tensile strength of water, knew that she must have been going at such great speeds as to put all her notions of what was humanly possible aside. She ran and ran, hoping to find a wall at the end, a crack in the facade that was this world. But it never came.

Finally, she stopped to catch her breath. Leaning over with her hands on her knees, she waited to regain her strength. Interrupted by flashes of light, she stood once more, looking around at billboards full of color and light and an increasingly large crowd of spectators.

She waved to one of them, and he came over excitedly. "Excuse me, am I where I think I am?"

He gave her a goofy smile. "Omaesan hotto!"

Tokyo. "Great. Excuse me," she said, pushing him aside, gesturing for the crowd to clear. They parted seamlessly. "Thank you." And she was off.

* * *

=The Waterfront=

He was a shadow in the shade. Bruce could not remember the last time he had felt more in his element than he did now, sneaking about in the darkness, preparing well thought out plans. The thug at the bank, Destro, had told him that 'the Boss' had ordered the robbery to divert Batman's attention from a smuggling operation involving a ship called "Gertrude".

Now Bruce could go in swinging, stop the shipment - weapons, apparently

- and allow the police to make some arrests...or he could hide aboard the ship and get to the head of the operation. He had, of course, decided to go with the latter option. It was, he was quite satisfied, the perfect plan. There would be no surprises....

"The world is round," she whispered, from three feet away. For some strange reason, Kara looked disappointed at that revelation, and then busied herself with studying the same view he had.

Definitely no surprises...

"I was wondering what was taking you so long," he told his companion, "Now that you are here, you will be happy to know that I have this under control. So go home and wait to hear from me."

Her eyes squinted and she leaned forward. After a moment a smirk appeared on her face. "It's a trap." She rested her chin on her hands and looked up. "Let me help. I really, really need to hit something."

He sighed. "It *is* a trap - but when it is sprung, trust me, it will be my trap." Bruce looked at her, his gaze like the very scale of Libra itself, "If you want to come with me, then we do this by my rules, in my way, through stealth... and there will be no killing."

"I know... and... thank you. For stopping me. I almost did something terrible." She leaned over and whispered in his pointed ear, "It was noble of you."

Bruce looked at her sideways through slanted eyes. "There really is no need to be insulting...."

"I wasn't trying to be. So what's the plan?"

* * *

=A Box=

"Well," Kara muttered. "This is nice."

"In my defense," Bruce answered with a smile, "When I came up with this plan, I was alone."

"Some people read books." She shifted her weight to her other foot and brushed against his cape for what seemed like the millionth time. "Or, you know, watch sports."

He simply smiled, letting the weak joke pass - mostly because he couldn't think of a response. The plan had been for him to be alone in here. This container was not meant for two people...then again, it was not meant for one either. Being in such close quarters with Kara was hardly an ideal situation - it was entirely too distracting....

"How much longer are...?"

"Two to three hours."

"And how will..."

"We'll know when the ship stops."

"Great." She tapped her feet, and looked around aimlessly. She was running out of things to distract her, and she felt the need to deal with... pressing issues. "I, uh..." she turned awkwardly in an attempt to face him. "I wasn't lying earlier. If it wasn't for you..."

He leaned back as far as he could so that Kara could turn around - even then, it was a tight squeeze. "Hey," he said with a shrug, touching the side of her face to make sure she kept looking up at him, "It happens...

we all lose control of ourselves some times. At the right time, it can even be a good thing. You just...." He laughed softly, "You just picked the wrong time. You will get better at it."

Kara lowered her face, maybe out of shame, maybe out of concentration.

She traced the outline of the bat emblazoned on his armor, and for a long moment just rested her hand as her mind flew. Her voice grew distant. On the one hand, it was cold and calculating. On the other, laced with a degree of emotion. "Do you... remember it too?"

"Yes. It is one of the few things I do remember."

She made her mind up, then looked up and pushed herself toward him, kissing him softly, the way that seemed most familiar. Kara was testing a hypothesis, but she would have been lying to herself if she had said there was no other reason. The kiss deepened, and she remembered what it was like to be lost, and in shock, and in his arms. A glimpse of the truth, once more, but it came with such intensity that she pushed him in a rush of adrenaline.

Not knowing her own strength, Kara had made a dire miscalculation. Wood splintered in every direction, and the sound of hurried footsteps reached her ears even as the sunlight flooded everything.

Bruce rose to his feet, brushing the chipped wood off of himself, quite certain now that their presence had been rather emphatically announced.

"Great. We should do this again sometime. Dinner, perhaps...."

A gravelly voice rumbled from the top deck. "Gentlemen, there's a bat infestation in our stash! Feel free to..."

Kara marched out, looking up with a defiant glare. She sneered at the grotesque image before her, but the man only laughed. "Two for the price of one. Our favorite kind of deal." He jumped down to the deck solidly. "And oh my, what a pair."

The one crazy, unblinking eye, leered at her. Kara crossed her arms in front of her chest self-consciously. The entire crew's eyes were on her, and it made her skin crawl. What did someone say at a time like this... "Show's over, uh... you!"

"There really is no need for violence," the Batman drawled as he stepped forward, "The lot of you can just jump off the ship and drown quietly.

It will spare you a little pain."

Supergirl turned and eyed him strangely. "Like that will..." She felt a brush on the back of her head, and turned to see a goon holding a bent crowbar. She felt the top of her head. Not even a scratch. Smiling she walked forward. He backpedaled, and she kept approaching. Pulling a gun, he aimed it at her. She stopped cold, eyeing it warily.

"I would not aim for her head. She has a thick skull."

She shrieked, "Are you...?!" BANG. It was practically point blank,

and nothing. She smiled. "You miss..." her gaze fell. The bullet lay on the deck, crushed. Her hand darted to her forehead, feeling a tingle. It was impossible, but the evidence was irrefutable. She glared at the thug. "You shot me!"

"See?" The Dark Knight said, "You know... you really should google some superheroes, do a little research. It will do wonders for your health."

She shoved the man with one hand, sending him over the railing. His yell was punctuated by a splash. "Bastard."

The other goons were holding back, staring at the Bat as if he had gone insane. Finally, one of them cleared his throat and said, "Yo...

Batman, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"I just got kissed by a woman I have been crushing on for some time now... and then you guys came along and ruined the moment. I was just trying to use a little humor to keep myself from losing my temper and taking it all out on you." His eyes narrowed and he growled, a sinister smile playing on his lips, "You are right though...it was a crazy idea."

"Hey, Bats! Rule number one in warfare. Keep track of your enemies."

The crazy, deformed man had moved back up to the top deck.

"Who in the world does he think he is?" Supergirl asked.

"His name is Two Face...and he thinks he is sane."

"Riiiiight."

Two-Face ducked down behind the upper railing, and stood back up with a much larger weapon resting on his shoulder. Heedless of his own goons, he aimed it at Batman. "Kiss this, Bats."

"You'll sink the ship!"

It fired. Time slowed down as Kara watched it arc toward Bruce.

Without even thinking, she took a step and leapt at the rocket, catching it in her hands and wrenching it up and away from the deck of the ship.

Holding on for dear life, she tried to bring it under control. The rocket bucked in her hands and jostled her about in the air as it arced into the sky and away from the boat, shaking her like a rag doll.

It stalled and hovered in the air for the briefest of moments. The explosion rocked the sky, sending ripples of heat even as far as the boat. The limp, tattered form of Supergirl plunged into the water almost on the edge of sight. A tattered red cape rippled after her.

Batman turned.

Bruce Wayne ran to the edge of the ship, staring down into the merciless depths of the ocean.

Aerv tr'Ahalaen screamed, his entire soul trust into one desperate word, the intensity of his grief so fierce that it broke the heart of Poseidon himself, "Elissa!"

OOC: This is a backpost to after the Hydrans were defeated.

"Returning Home"

Lt. Man'darr Maivia
Chief of Operations
USS Miranda

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO
USS Galaxy

Dr. Robert Mathieson
Medical Officer
USS Galaxy

Branwen moaned, she had lost consciousness again, and her fever was high. She was sweating, and tossing and turning on the bed. In doing so she hurt herself by aggravating the badly set broken bones and bruised ribs.

"You must lay still," Man'darr said. Suddenly the ground shook with the sound of a nearby explosion. Man'darr rushed to see if they were under attack and saw the energy beam strike an area not too far away, followed by an emense explosion that again rocked the ground. "Looks like Federation Phasers. I believe the Fleet has returned, but we need to get her out of here, doctor."

"What.." Branwen opened her eyes, only half lucid.

The Romulan phisician bent over the Marine and felt her for ehead and looked into Branwen's dialated eyes. "She's getting weaker. The antibiotics are not working as well as I had hoped - her lymphatic system is shutting down, and th e infec! tio n's spreading to her other organs." She looked up a the looming Capellan. "In her condition, moving her over rough terrain will kill her. We need to transport her to a starship or secure a hover-vehicle to move her to a medical facility."

"With a battle going on above us, I doubt anyone will be able to lower their shields to beam us aboard. We should move her to a safer location before one of those phasers strike this area. I will return soon." Man'darr rushed outside beofre the doctor could respond to look for a hover vehicle to transport Branwen with. Most of the surrounding area was a wasteland to say the least--with destroyed buildings and debris littering what remained of the roads.

===

Man'darr had traveled a block when he finally spotted a damaged Romulan Ground Cargo Hover Transport Vehicle. The light-green vehicle was banged up badly from debris and a part of Man'da! rr w on dered if it would even operate as he climbed into the cab and looked over the instruments. "Lets see..." Man'darr located the button marked "Start" in Rihannsu and pressed it. The engine struggled and died as Man'darr pressed the button again and again, each time failing to start. "Start damn you!" Man'darr roared in frustration as he pounded the button with his fist. To his surprise, the vehicle started up and lifted off the ground. Man'darr immediately floored the accelerator and almost im mediately heard a cry of an animal as a furry animal grappled hi s face. He could feel its tiny claws puncturing into his skin. Man'darr immediately grabbed the animal, causing thr small animal to break its grip. Man'darr looked at the ani mal who hissed at him in reponse. "Stupid cat! Where did you come from?" Man'daar asked as he tossed the animal into a cargo container and locking it, though a part of him wanted to toss it out of the speeding vehicle.

He then arrived at the hospital and left the hover vehicle running as he entered the hospital. More phasers struck the ground nearby.

===

Upon loading Branwen into the damaged cargo truck, Man'darr sped off as fast as the vehicle could travel. The truck's engine whined as it strained to keep the vehicle at 128 KPH (80 MPH) as it sped though the devestated city. Man'darr barely saw the Hydran soldier as he stepped out from behind a building. The last thing the Hydran saw was the truck speeding directly in his direction. Less than a half-second later, the hover cargo truck impacted the Hydran, instantly shattering his skeletal system and ripping i! nto the flesh as the body was forced down under the vehicle as it passed over. Tha mangled body rolled a few times before coming to a hault. Man'darr checked the side mir ror as he sped on. 'Ewwww, road kill,' Man'darr thought with an evil grin, turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

A few hours later, Man'darr had managed to get Branwen aboard the Galaxy and in its sickbay due to meeting up with Marine reinforcements from the fleet. The large capellan stood out with his dirty and bloodied bandage and bare chest.

===

"Well, well, well - if it 'aint Lieutenant London", the gravelley voice chimed. "An' yer in to condition t' hug me lungs out - I'm 'urt, lass. We'll jus' have t' work on gettin' that fine Welsh constitution o' yers up an' runnin. Jus' lay still, an' well take a peek at yer bits an' pieces."

She could see bright lights above her. Branwen smiled, ! but thi s was probably what happened when you went to heaven. Peaceful, the only thing missing was the heavenly music and loved ones waiting for her. Maybe that would come later.

But then somehow she heard a familiar voice. Branwen tried to focus. Could God sound like Dr Mathieson?

"Doc...?" She croaked.

"At's right, lass", the voice rumbled, slightly d istorted by a high pitched humming sound floading around the Marine's head.. "Kindly Doctor Math - still around an' patchin' up wot needs fixin'. Like yer ribs. An' yer spleen...an' yer lymphatic system.... Chris London - yer a mess! Wot'cher been up to, eh?"

Consciousness was fading again, but she tried to hang on. "My... job.

Man'darr w! atched the doctor begin to work on Branwen. "I need to go to the Miranda and let them know I am still alive before they declare me dead or MIA. Let me know when she is better, doctor," Man'darr headed out of the door of sickbay.

"Dar!" She called after him weakly.

Man'darr stopped mid-stride and turned around, re-entering sickbay. "What is it?" he asked, approaching her.

"I love you. Come back soon." She was trying not to cry.

Man'darr grinned and touched her face lightly. "I love you too, and I will."

"Blood"

Ensign Zev Raynor - Terran Telepath
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer - USS Galaxy

Location: Hydran Holding Cell

Blood...

It flows so easily when it first departing from its home, but stains much, and dries quickly upon the floor...

Too little blood coursing through the system and that's it... game over... when your on the front lines trying to exact as much blood as possible from your enemy, you aren't really supposed to care who it belongs to so long as they aren't on your side.

But that was the question that was coming. Whose blood was coursing through his veins?

He asked a similar question to his doctor once before... how different do you have to be in order to not be human. How different genetically is a monkey from a human being or hell the Neanderthal from the modern human being. It might as well be the difference between a cheese pizza, and grilled cheese with tomato paste. Yes its there, but it tastes the same... doesn't it?

The question on the surface seemed to be about genetic modifications that had been done to him years ago, but there was a deeper meaning.

Raynor leaned back and wondered how much he had hidden from everyone...

since the time he was 'rescued'/'captured' by a Starfleet vessel after Starke's betrayal. His name, his past, his heritage. But with this clone, and the extra organ, these sorts of questions are bound to come up. And in this situation he wondered how long he could keep diverting his interrogations from topics that actually mattered.

A combination of telepathic communication and direct eye contact hypnosis allow him to manipulate them so easily, because of their limited understanding of what a human being could really do allowed him to keep it up this long, but that didn't matter. Eventually they would try something different; these Hydrans were stubborn and self-righteous but not total idiots.

He had also the other problem to consider... any escape attempt would be moot because in all likelihood there was not a drop of oxygen beyond the door. He could only hold his breathe for about 8 minutes and randomly scouting hoping to find a way out or formulate a plan on the run had a narrow to no chance of success.

Methane breathing Hydrans would have to brown nose him if the situation was reversed. Literally. His shit was a methane factory, but that was beside the point. And yet, for a moment he wondered if Hydran crap produced oxygen... though he wasn't about to stick his nose up one of their asses to survive.

But he wasn't about to test that theory any time soon, though he would have to look into it.

Back to the matter at hand, even if there was breathable air beyond the door they a getting into any sort of fire fight wouldn't be advisable unless he knew the exact oxygen to methane ratio. Too much methane, or too little wouldn't matter so much. But you get the right ratio you could wind up with an explosion in a very confined space with a barbequed Raynor. Unless of course they had in fact taken the remote possibility of an unwanted explosion into account and armed their guards with weapons that wouldn't set off an explosion. All based on the assumption that there was ANY oxygen beyond that door to begin with.

Running through all the different situations he could encounter behind that door. He knew needed more information. To somehow divine the ground on the other side of that door.

Raynor chuckled at that. Any other member of his species would have trouble understanding the idea of trying to divine something... but to Raynor it should come naturally.

Divine... Saint... God...

Any person could find comfort or even confidence when being compared to such ideas, principles, or people... But the difference between the Divine and the Demonic was press coverage. Raynor knew that all too well.

Pariah... Monster... Demon...

That's what his people called him, perhaps justifiably... After all, he had killed over 50 Ronin in fit of anger. His childhood was spent in isolation after that... no one would get close to him. He grew up on Midgar, alone...

promising to himself that he would force the Coven to recognize his existence by becoming something that they could not ignore, nor disrespect.

The Shogun.

But that dream was shattered by the betrayal of another.

Starke, a Ferengi Doctor... a cold hearted scientist... Though he was suspected of having side interests as all outsiders were... No one could of known that he had been bought off by Section 31... and on the eve of their most important victory over the Federation, and stealing it from them.

Starke the one who fiddled with his DNA, making him telepathic, and oh yes through telepathy asborb the memories and even the consciousness of anyone passed from life unto death with his range. Starke... the one who killed his father before his very eyes.

Father... The only person in the Coven who had ever recognized his existence was his father... after he completed his Officer training. So short a time... to get to know his own father...

The reason he didn't have more time... Raynor had this extra organ of unknown power. It was part of a genetic inheritence that he had gained from his mother. Bloodlines that went back thousands of years... that his ancestors apparently carried secretly within them... allowing them to do many things... almost anything was in grasp...

But Raynor was the son of a whore... someone who was a whore not because she had to be... but because she chose to be... This bothered Raynor, who chooses a life like that? Why would you choose to be subject to that kind of abuse and disrespect?

Not that it mattered now... her bloodline was his bloodline. And that's what they would want to know. In time, eventually... Raynor would probably break.

But for now... time was something Raynor could afford to waste.

Time... with time... the bloodlines would become diluted... with time...

different strands would die off... until now, where only a handful of those who could grow the organ at all remained. Maybe Raynor was the last remains of the race that supposedly died out a long time ago. And if he was... could Raynor still be considered human with everything else?

Not it mattered right now... For the moment all he could do was hope that the Hydrans didn't know what they had... and bide his time waiting for the right moment to strike and escape. He would pray but... who the hell answers the prayers anymore?

He chuckled at that... when the door openned, and the next Hydran interriogator stepped forward... he just smiled and looked the bastard in the eye, before getting the backhand.

Raynor just turned to the Hydran, stared him in the eye, and spat the blood out in his general direction...

"A Small Victory" - backpost

Cole Slaton
Various NPCs

The swirling bullet slammed into its target, puncturing through the unfortunate foe's armour with practised ease. The bullet hadn't changed much in the three hundred odd years since its creation. Kyle McKline was the inventor, a man who changed the face of police enforcement.

H.V. ammunition, High Velocity, was designed for one purpose and one purpose only. To kill. The bullet was created to pass through the Kevlar armour that many terrorists, of that day, were using. This wasn't what had so many in uproar, with protests all over the United Kingdom, and later the world, springing up - two having turned into riots seeing three police officers injured, one severely - nor was this the reason military bodies were rubbing their hands in glee. These bullets had a secret, once hitting the victim they remain inside, effectively eliminating the majority of non-combatant casualties and injuries.

It was this long forgotten ammunition, with the introduction of phaser weapons in the early stages of Starfleet, which had replaced the H.V. ammo, which now struck the Hydran soldier. Like so many before the bullet tore through the alien's insides with vicious intent, allowing dark blood to run freely.

It was dead before hitting the ground.

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

Seven minutes ago,
Romulus capital,
Western section of ground deployment

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

Noise of gunfire and explosions echoed throughout the capital. Clouds of smoke from fires raging unchecked blackened the sky making as if night had fallen. Though the marines and Hazards were well trained and determined in their duties it seemed the Hydrans were equal, it not more so, in their own determination.

The Starfleet officers were outnumbered and out gunned, while this didn't necessarily decide an outcome of a battle, it sure as not helped. Slaton was crouched above a narrow street, though to call it so would have been a great exaggeration. An alley would have been more accurate. The building had a flat roof, perfect for the Hazard officer waiting with unyielding purpose.

Having left the marine squad he'd attached himself to, detailing them with specific orders, he was already into double figures of definite kills, with double that as possibles. The Hazard X.O. had ambushed two squads of Hydran warriors. None of course were the Hydran elite, dark clad soldiers who had been spotted in numerous places leaving death and horror in their wake.

On his travels through the city Cole had come across the aftermath of an unfortunate squad of marines. There was no mistaking who they had encountered. Each marine, whether still alive or dead, had been stripped of their clothes, and later their skin. Limbs were hung from hooks driven into the walls of building, blood smeared on windows, bones and entrails were left to litter the ground in an obscene and grotesque manner as if some mad artist was at work.

He had to fight the urge to heave, still able to taste the vile taste of his vomit having spilled his guts at the horrifying sight. From the moment of leaving that nightmare the young El-Aurian had thought of nothing but revenge.

It seemed liked hours had passed, waiting for the enemy. They finally appeared, like shadows in the gloom, when the thought of shifting his weight finally seemed too hard to resist. His muscles aching with cramp, yet seeing the Hydrans the pain vanished, washed away in an instant, better than any Federation painkiller. The stiffness, the cramps faded. Slowly, and silently, unclipping the top harness clip of his rifle, he also checked each blade in their respected sheathes.

By this time the first three Hydrans had passed his position unaware of the danger they were now in. Awaiting the right time to strike was crucial, hesitating could spell disaster. The time came when the middle two Hydrans paused for a brief moment glancing behind them.

A decision they would regret for the last few remaining seconds of their lives.

Taking the half step up onto the edge of the flat roof he leaned forward allowing himself to drop pulling the trigger of his rifle as he fell. The rifle jarred in his grip spewing the lethal projectiles that rained down onto the two unsuspecting foes. The bullets tore into them both, their armour giving little to no protection. The seconds that followed were nothing more than a blur of chaotic violence. Cole landed among the dead Hydrans, knees bending absorbing the impact, spinning around he sprayed the rear guard with a salvo of bullets. Using the momentum his left hand pulled a blade from his chest throwing it to his side. It spun end over end and for a brief horrifying moment Cole saw, in his mind's eye, the handle strike instead of the blade. This didn't happen. The blade struck true finding the joint at the base of the Hydran's neck sinking into flesh.

In a moment of apparently utter madness Cole turned away leaving the two, still living, Hydran's now behind him, the third collapsing to its knees clutching the knife in its neck, having discarded its weapon. The Hydrans in their rage and surprise didn't notice the end of the knife's handle, a small red blinking light. The blast was immense, the shockwave ripping the three Hydrans apart throwing fragments of bone, flesh and armour. A wave of super heat followed, Cole had already activated his headpiece. Retractable armour came up over his head and face, it locked into position just as the heat struck. It slammed into him with as much force as the initial shockwave, it pushed him down to his knees, and despite the protection of his Hazard Suit he could still feel the heat seeping through.

Standing, his suit smoking among the smouldering bodies, he glanced around.

The walls were blackened by the heat, small sections were on fire. The ground mirrored the walls, black with ash and soot, only the black smoking bodies broke up the flat barren alley. The nanobots of his suit were quick to reassert themselves, having been forced from his back by the two shockwaves. Close to a million had been destroyed by the initial blast, another two million melted or otherwise damaged from the heat. Despite this the nanobots covered the majority of his body and within moments had replicated enough to re-establish the camouflage.

Grinning Cole lifted his rifle, the butt up into his shoulder allowing him to look along the sights, finger resting against the trigger.

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

K'Elhya sector,
Capital,
Romulus

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

Sergeant Ellis shifted her position, stifling a moan as she did, cramp having settled into her leg. Quick to silence any witty remarks from the marine beside her she once more returned her attention to the view. A junction lay before the shattered window where she lay, rifle beside her, binoculars in hand. From here she had perfect view of the strike zone. She had to admit the Haz knew his stuff, sometimes frighteningly so.

The street stretched out in front of them. Running three hundred metres before branching off to the east where, after many twists and turns, it finally connected with the main road through the western section of the capital.

Looking through the binoculars she heard the explosion before seeing it, shifting the binoculars to the left she spotted the smoke. It rose from behind several buildings, thick like oil moving in water, before spreading out dissipating in the air.

“That's him...” Ellis whispered.

“You're sure?” Ellis only nodded in reply.

As if hearing the question himself the Haz came out rifle blazing in the night. Energy pulses spewed forth from his rifle, having only a small amount of H.V ammo, small spheres of energy able to stun victims or vaporise in an instant. It was almost guaranteed the Haz had the setting on the latter, or at the very least on kill setting. Vaporising victims was an energy luxury the ground forces couldn't afford.

“Here they come...” Ellis whispered. They poured out into the street like a living breathing tidal wave. Energy fire lashed out from their weapons.

Lifting the remote up her finger pulled the safe-guard up revealing the trigger beneath, thumb resting on the trigger she pressed.

A blood bath - plain and simple.

She'd waited for the first row to pass the staggered line of mines, they exploded with a ferocious intent. Once activated four shot up from the earth to just above head height, an altitude sensor within, which could judge height to within a fraction of a centimetre, detonated the mines at their predetermined level. Shrapnel from these mines tore into the Hydran lines, through flesh, armour and bone they could not be stopped. Other mines released gas before detonating, the few seconds before detonation allowed the gas to waft in the wind spreading over a greater area. Starting at the mines partially buried in the top soil, vents all that were visible, a spark within set off the gas and the flames raced through it with a seemingly living purpose.

Together with Jackson, positioned on the right side of the street to cover Slaton's retreat from a third storey building, and support from Ellis and Adams, the Hydran lines were torn to ribbons. It was all over in less than a minute, motionless smoking corpses all that remained. From the shadows Jackson and Slaton emerged, rifles trained on the bodies, as they walked among the dead. Fires gave small respites to the darkness bathing all around them in their yellow glow.

A small victory in the scheme of things, but no matter how small it was still better than nothing.

"Unpredictable" - part I

Lt. Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG
USS Galaxy

"You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses." - Ziggy

The woman stood outside his quarters, a steel reserve met her inwardly as she waited for permission to enter. She had been here before, under different circumstances. The discovery of the chip warranted a visit to the best intel officer she knew. Or, in retrospect, the only one she wanted to know. Dressed casually, and not to impress, she fingered the small chip in her hand.

The door opened to reveal Saul Bental's quarters. It was messy, but not as much as his old room was after Havras, when the Triad redecorated it with a new window to outer space.

He was lying on the sofa, watching some imagery projected at the opposite wall. He turned his head toward her, and shut off the projection.

"Hey Fay-Fay." He said. He didn't speak with her after the ruckus at ten forward earlier that day.

"Saul." The simple tone of her voice was not seductive, but more as a vocal request for attention of a business matter. He had heard the tone, before a trial, or before she sat on the bench of her first case. "I need you."

Of course she did, he thought. After what happened that morning, she probably needed to vent. He wasn't sure he could blame her.

Saul rose to a sitting position. Cynicism aside, this was Fay-Fay. He owed her some of the most exciting nights of his life, and to some extent also his career. As a JAG, she helped him negotiate the hearing following the catastrophic final mission of Special Observation Craft 074.

A Bental pays his debts. Eventually.

"How can I help?"

Rolling her eyes, a slight smile flashed across her mouth. She sat on the sofa, at his request, and reached out for his hand. As she took it in hers, reluctant memories bolted across her mind. Faylin pressed the tiny chip into the palm of his hand, permitting him to study it for a moment before closing his fingers around it for protection.

"I knew....that I could come to you with this. It was from a locket my mother had. I don't know what kind of information it contained....but I believe it's important. Can you check on this for me Panther?"

"Of course." He told her, glancing at it. Just your everyday Isolinear chip... at least, from the outside. He gently closed his fingers on it.

"Unless it's trivial, I'll need to involve my technical officer." He told her. At least, his OLD Technical officer. He only got a preliminary report about Eve, but he suspected that if half of it was true then she won't be able to help.

"If that officer can be trusted." Faylin stated simply.

"He can."

Her look turned to a plead. "Please. Keep this between you and me as much as you can. I trust you with sensitive information." She knew more, but kept it to herself. Turning from him, she stood and walked over to the window, glancing out to the stars. A far away look now etched itself across her delicate features. Being here was hard, for more reason than one.

He still had her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

"No sweat." That sly grin again. "I'll do my best. I hope the battle's aftermath won't cause any delays."

He was close, a little to much so for comfort. A sudden swell of longing erupted in her as his presence assaulted her. Lifting her eyes up to the ceiling, Faylin cursed out loud. "If only." Taking a step back, her voice grew small as her eyes locked onto his. "Thank you....so much."

Her 'Panther' simply nodded in acknowledgment.

"I........." Her mouth closed, her gaze averted to the floor, a moment of familiar silence passed between them. With her eyes still to the floor, she muttered. "I'm glad to see you safe. I was, worried about you."

Saul's face softened. "You know me, Fay. I keep myself safe. I'm glad to see you're OK, too. I understood you were on the planet when the first battle took place..."

That damned silence was back, it's affect on the atmosphere between them still the same, even if Saul did not want to admit it. The match started the fire in her soul yet again. It was back, along with the iron will to finish what she started a few short years ago. Resolve hit her square in her heart. Turning unexpectedly, she almost ran into his chest. The anger flared up at his coolness. It was as if all the passion between them had died. He kept his emotions so well hidden, at times it truly did scare her to near death. She wanted the bud of the flower that used to be them burst forth into bloom, even if for one night, consequences be damned.

"Saul........damn it!" Faylin took a steady step towards him. "Do you still feel?" Her hands shot up to his face, cupping it with force. Inwardly, her world was spinning. "Saul! I still.........."

Her eyes, flashed with intensity, the sudden explosion of heat she created filled the room. She felt warm, so much so that she narrowed her gaze dangerously at him. Faylin still had her hands on his face. Moving them down to his shoulders, she shook him as best as she could.

"Remember! Remember us? Remember what we had????" She gasped for breath. "Do you?"

"Fay Fay--"

"Remember this?" McAlister put her hands on his chest, pushing him back to the wall. "Remember........." She shoved him once forcefully, and then held her hands against him. The fight was stronger now, the passion back, just for once as she held her gaze against his. Grabbing his hands, she forced them up. She leaned all her body weight against him, praying that he felt every succulent curve of her body, hoping that it made him remember. The deep determination on her face grew as her breathing became rapid. "Just one Saul....one for old time sake......"

Without pause, she attacked him with her lips. No softness needed. Words ceased as she attempted the best she could to sway his intentions. She felt nothing from him...it was as if he still had his blasted 'sack of secrets' under his arm. Her arms fell her her side, her lips parted his, the lost look in her eyes presented themselves as they clouded over in pain.

"I remember, Fay-Fay." He told her dryly, "As I'm sure every other man you've been with since you left my flat on Earth that day remembers. I think I know why YOU remembered, but you'll just hate me if I say it. Think of it, though."

"I had no choice but to leave Saul. It was not in my hands. I had orders....specifically that needed followed. As much as I........damn......" The words just wouldn't come out. They were there, and as desperately as she wanted to tell him now, the way she wanted to tell him then, the simple fact was that it wouldn't matter.

Saul shrugged. "But it's OK, Fay-Fay. I... I knew it would come, eventually. I would bore you, and you would go and grab yourself a new toy."

"If I had my choice, I would have stayed with you. The only way that was going to happen would be if I left Starfleet. And even then, it would have been too dangerous to do so. There were things you didn't know....even if your abilities are 'awesome'."

Saul wasn't sure which abilities she referred to. His male ego didn't blind him enough to think that he was the best bed partner Faylin experimented with.

"Look." She said, "We both had things in our past that we can't talk about. Okay? Just know....I never said what I wanted to say to you." The past had a way of popping back up when something was unsaid or unsettled, and Fay was tired of fighting the past the way she had been for so long. "Saul....I loved you. Part of me...well, part of me still does in a morbid way---"

"Unpredictable" - part II

Lt. Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG
USS Galaxy

*** Saul Bental's quarters ***

"Look.", Faylin McAlister said, "We both had things in our past that we can't talk about. Okay? Just know....I never said what I wanted to say to you." The past had a way of popping back up when something was unsaid or unsettled, and Fay was tired of fighting the past the way she had been for so long. "Saul....I loved you. Part of me...well, part of me still does in a morbid way. I just had to get that off my chest. It's obvious, that what you felt, wasn't as great as what I felt....but, for what it's worth, I thought you should know."

"Fay, don't toy with me." He said all of the sudden. "You talked about what we had... we had sex. Perhaps time makes you look at it differently, or maybe it's the 'what if's'. But--"

He stopped. This was just wrong. A woman just told him she loved him and still does. Even if in the matters of heart she was the sleek merchant and he was the wide-eyed, easy to fool customer - she didn't deserve such a treatment.

That's why he didn't tell her that he suspected she got nostalgic because of Olivia's death.

"Forget it." He shook his head. "I appreciate what you say. I still care about you, and there's nothing morbid to it. Just... don't spoil it by trying to turn me into a toyboy. I won't have it."

"This general 'idea' that everyone has concerning me having a long list of 'toys', is ludicrist Saul. You know it. You know why I left.....the job I had was very big.....you know what I did, and you accepted it. What I still do when called upon. More than ninty percent of those 'toys' you thought I left you for...they were hits. I had to get close enough to get the information I needed and then left. It wasn't true with you, however, I can see how you would think that it would be."

Saul simply nodded, but she knew it wasn't out of understanding.

"I didn't want to go Saul. I'm sorry… I'm angry that your perception of me is otherwise. My end goal wasn't to hurt you....it was to have you for as long as you wanted me. However...no matter how much I argued about the assignment, they wanted me. I couldn't say no. Do you honestly think that the results of the trial would have been the same if you had another attorney? No.....not in the least. You'd be sitting on your butt on some penal colony for the rest of your life."

"I know that, Fay-Fay." Saul replied. Perhaps not a penal colony, but if Faylin had lost and they had kicked him out of SFI, they would probably mess up with his brain beforehand and he would defect long before something like that happened. "But do you HONESTLY think you would stay for months with me? Years? If anyone would have asked you to remain for so long with him right now, would you?"

"Yes, I honestly do." She paused, and continued.

"You are the only person who knows what I do.....I trust you with that information. And, that takes a lot. My life is never easy, and I can never fully get close to someone, without the threat of being pulled away....just like I was with you. Now, though, I've finally been able to get somewhere that I won't leave Saul. I may be pulled away from the ship for a while, but I'll always come back. I didn't say that the last time...I just left, without an explanation to you. For that I'm sorry. Time wouldn't permit me. Things needed 'taken care of' then and there. I longed to tell you....Saul....you have to believe me."

"I believe you, about the ship." Saul replied. "The Galaxy DOES have a tendency to make people go back."

Faylin lowered her head, the persistent memories of the past kept nagging her to ask the question she wanted to ask. "Saul?"

"Huh?"

"I guess that there really is no slightest chance...of....us?" Faylin moved over yet again to the window, stepping over something that caught her attention. Leaning down, she brought up a stray picture that had released itself from somewhere. A gentle look crossed her face, softening it, revealing the woman that he first found himself attracted to. "You kept this?"

"No." His response surprised her. "I travel light. But I did replicate a handful of pictures I had backed up, and this was one of them."

"I see." She stated quietly, placing the picture on a small stand.

He decided not to evade her earlier question. "You know I had feelings for you, Fay. You're intelligent, you're hot, you're free-spirited, and you don't go around mumbling about 'Sakaria' or 'Christianity'." It was a good thing Nara and Bran weren't around. "But while I had feelings, I had no illusions. And to be honest, with all the things going out in my life, I don't want anyone to be near me. Nara is just plain stupid for carrying on, and I'm too selfish to send her away."

"Saul....you said a little bit ago that you still care for me, yet now....you just said you had feelings. Which is it?"

"Fay-Fay, please don't be a lawyer and twist my words."

"I really wish you would wake up....it's like your dead." She walked over, placing her hands lightly on his face. "Where are you? Where's Saul?"

"Saul Bental is in his senior officer's quarters." Came the irritating reply.

"Well, we haven't lost our sense of sarcasm, have we?" Faylin retorted before speaking yet again. "Don't you see? I want to be near you....don't push me away now. We.....can have what we had.....Saul....I've missed you."

He turned his back on her. He never turned his back on her. "No, Fay. I have too much to lose, and the gains are too risky. And didn't you hear anything I said? You don't want to be near me. No one should. But you're trying because you can. Admit it, Fay. I'm just a difficult target. If I'd drop my cloths and make love to you right now, you'll be back to your regular lay in the morning, and use this to fuel some more passion or jealousness. Am I right?"

"No." She dropped her head, her resolve slipping right before his eyes as Faylin saw him turn his back. 'That's never happened before.' She thought with a confused look on her face. "That's not true Panther. If you did that, I'd be shocked as hell with how distant you are acting.....but then, we would have something. As much as I want to hold you and feel you Saul, it's not a one sided thing. You have to want it to, and you don't from what you are saying." Faylin paused, her mouth open slightly. "I want to be near you, and I'm not just no one Saul. I'm Fay-Fay." She came around to the other side of him, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'm Fay-Fay. I'm here, and I'm yours for however long you want me. Not for however long I want you, I'll always want and need you. Do you want, and need me Saul?"

He remained silent, his face unreadable. Faylin expelled a breath. Inwardly, she knew this was going to be hard, but she needed to give it a go one last time before she closed the book permanently on having a lasting relationship with Panther. "Okay, so we've established that 1, you did having feelings for me, and still do to some extent. Two, I had feelings for you back then, and do now. Three. I've admitted that I want something lasting with you, and not a fling. Four. You don't want anyone to be around you, because your actually a chicken who won't take a chance on a good thing if it came up and bit you in the ass. And Five, you have a woman in front of you who it hot and independant, yet you -compromise- yourself and see another woman who drags you down with her issues." Faylin paused.

"That woman actually confided you with her darkest secret." Saul finally spoke. "And look what you're trying to do to her. No, Fay-Fay; You byte. Look how you try to sway me, to manipulate me, to bring me to your arms. You're a strong player, and it's admirable; But I won't survive having you again, Fay-Fay; Frankly, you'll drive me insane."

"Fine. Saul. I don't know what else to say or do. You obviously are willing to throw away the potential for something great due to you own selfishness. Be with Nara, be bored to tears, forget what we had, forget the passionate nights and days....the way we drove each other crazy with just a look. That's not my problem if you don't want that in your life everyday......and night." Faylin cut him a totally raw look. "But, when you're in bed with her, when you close your eyes to kiss her....I know that it's not her face your going to see, it's mine. When you're making love to her, I'm the one that's going to be pinned below you. When you're talking to her, when you sit and do your daily tasks, I'm there....arn't I? Why not, make it me in reality?"

"If it helps you sleep at night." Saul said coldly.

"You...." She stated pinning her index finger to his chest. "Are the

most infuriating man I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He allowed a thin smile to appear.

Faylin steeled her gaze against him, swallowing the immediate urge to attack him once more. "Can you give me the chip back please? I'll find someone else to help me.....and not bother you again, for anything Saul. Is that how you want it?"

"What I want is--" What did he want, really? There were so many things. He did want to strip her cloths off her, throw her on the couch, and make her scream with pleasure and wild joy. He also wanted that bloody third pip, and he wanted her to go away and not turn him to a puppet like she tried to do with Jonas, and he wanted a chilly glass of orange juice. He'd give that third pip for a glance of orange juice.

And he wanted everything undone with Chava, and he wanted to nail McCauley, and he wanted Andrus to just disappear. And he wanted Nara to get over all of her said issues, from her Sakarian patriotism to her rape.

And he wanted--

His thoughts focused on the Agenda. The mental black hole, which kept pulling him back.

"I'll handle the chip." He found himself saying. "For Olivia's sakes."

"Um, no. I'll take it back and handle it." She held out her hand, determination etched across her face. "Thank you." Taking the chip, she turned and went to exit. Her resolve was back, with this little altercation. Faylin had learned that the past needed to be left in the past. Memories of chemistry and passion were just that, memories. In a strange way, perhaps her job knew more than she did back then. A match that tends to burn brightly, also dies out just as quickly. Although she still held an attraction for him, she really did not know who he was any longer. Faylin didn't have the strength, or the resolve to attempt to find out. Not with so many people and things standing in the way. She turned towards him once more, saying nothing except with her eyes. Leaving him yet again, was easier this time.

"World's Finest, Part 8: Gently Down the Stream"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

= The Ocean =

Under the brutal glare of a fading sun, in the shadows of a freshly weeping sky, on the open sea, men broke.

They fell upon Aerv like the ocean waves on a rocky shore - and like so many waves, they broke.

The peaceful smell of the water all around them, pouring as it was from the suddenly open sky, was drowned out by the thick, metallic scent of flowing blood. Bones snapped as thunder roared, and one man stood against nine, with an unnatural fury that echoed of the merciless vengeance of god himself.

Like a monstrous devil, Aerv fell upon them, the black hand of death itself. In this moment, when his heart was afraid it would burst venom, his movements were calculated, precise and exact. His youth had been little more than a long exercise in how to kill - and it all came back to him, every movement, every step, fueled by a vile hatred that he had not known himself capable of.... He went from punch to punch, kick to kick, flawlessly, driven by memories he had not had moments before. His father had taught him the llaekh-ae'rl - the Laughing Murder - and though Aerv had promised himself never to use that deadly art, this was now a day for broken kisses, lost possibilites and shattered hope.

In that moment, Aerv tr'Ahalaen was truly Rihannsu - pure thought and pure passion - defiant life in the face of death, death unto death itself.

lhi kveinn. The Nine Lances.

kuhaos kinaen. The Last Oath.

khasei khellian. The Weeping Hunter.

iurret jhimn. The Silent Serpent.

Jaws snapped. Lungs burst. Men broke.

Then finally he stood alone, nine men scattered around him like so many broken toys, facing the man who had killed Elissa. Two Face. Two Face who was cowering before him, begging for mercy, but....

"There is no mercy for those who kill the flowers that defy autumn,"

tr'Ahalaen snarled, his voice raw.

And then Aerv struck him.

And then he struck him again.

And again.

And again.

Punched after punch, strike after strike rained down upon Two Face.

The bones in his face began to snap. He wept and screamed, yet knew that Aerv would not stop until his hands finally hit the ground.

And finally, his cries were met with an answer from below. The men crawled behind him, voices strained and showing fear, no longer directed at the Bat, but the boat's wake. Something was happening.

Something meriting greater attention than his vengeance.

She pierced the water's surface like a blade through flesh, leaping from the depths as if flung from Tartarus' gates by the three Fates themselves.

When she landed, metal groaned and men tumbled forward. The boat's nose ascended as the force of her impact drove it down. Crates tumbled into the ocean's maw and those who could held on to the rails for dear life. Aerv staggered back, but did not lose his footing. Two-Face slid, limp and defeated. The boat's nose slammed back into the water, and more men tumbled off the far end.

Kneeling and face down, her wet hair fell flat around her face. Elissa breathed deeply, her back rising and falling, and she slowly stood in the rain, like the weight of the world was on her back.

She looked at him as a stranger would, with a certain unknowing displeasure. Distant and cold. Stepping between Batman and his victim, Supergirl spoke plainly. "Consider us even." She crossed her arms and stared down her nose at the even more horribly disfigured criminal. "Tell me where you were headed with this ship."

"That," he said, coughing and spitting blood, "is up to fate to decide." He fumbled into his pockets with mangled fingers and pulled out a coin. She plucked it out of his hands and studied it. A scar on one face of it pretty much spelled everthing out to her. She smiled knowingly at Two Face, closed her fist tightly, and dropped it on his lap in a ball.

He slumped back, too weak to even give his psychosis fuel. "Coast City."

"Thank you." She turned, and looked at Batman. Her expression was muted and distant. She beckoned with a nod and walked across the boat until they were reasonably far away from prying ears. "I thought there was something familiar about you, but I don't know you. Not really.

Something in you scares me to death. Those men... every wound you inflicted, every judgment passed."

She shook her head and stared at the ground for a long moment, looking for the words. He was far better with them than she, but it had to come out right. Had to sound right to her ears. He'd lost it. Was that the measure of her worth to him? Finally, the words broke. "You did that because of me?" She couldn't help but sneer a little. "What happened to...rising above it all?"

His unreadable dark eyes met her weltering, bright gaze. Was he crying behind his mask or was it the rain? There was only one soul who could have answered that; he simply said, in a weary, sad whisper....

"I fell."

And then he turned away from her, hurt by her distance, ashamed of himself, and withdrew into the shadows. Not Batman, but the unshakable, storied, Aerv tr'Ahalaen. A man broken....

= End Log =

"Evacuation."

Man'darr
Miranda

Dr. Mathieson
Galaxy

Branwen
Galaxy

Branwen moaned, she had lost consciousness again, and her fever was high. She was sweating, and tossing and turning on the bed.  In doing so she hurt herself by aggravating the badly set broken bones and bruised ribs.

"You must lay still," Man'darr said.  Suddenly the ground shook with the sound of a nearby explosion.  Man'darr rushed to see if they were under attack and saw the energy beam strike an area not too far away, followed by an emense explosion that again rocked the ground.  "Looks like Federation Phasers.  I believe the Fleet has returned, but we need to get her out of here, doctor."

"What.." Branwen opened her eyes, only half lucid.

The Romulan phisician bent over the Marine and felt her for ehead and looked into Branwen's dialated eyes.  "She's getting weaker.  The antibiotics are not working as well as I had hoped - her lymphatic system is shutting down, and th e infectio n's spreading to her other organs."  She looked up a the looming Capellan.  "In her condition, moving her over rough terrain will kill her.  We need to transport her to a starship or secure a hover-vehicle to move her to a medical facility."

"With a battle going on above us, I doubt anyone will be able to lower their shields to beam us aboard.  We should move her to a safer location before one of those phasers strike this area.  I will return soon."  Man'darr rushed outside beofre the doctor could respond to look for a hover vehicle to transport Branwen with.  Most of the surrounding area was a wasteland to say the least--with destroyed buildings and debris littering what remained of the roads.

===

Man'darr had traveled a block when he finally spotted a damaged Romulan Ground Cargo Hover Transport Vehicle.  The light-green vehicle was banged up badly from debris and a part of Man'darr w ondered if it would even operate as he climbed into the cab and looked over the instruments.  "Lets see..."  Man'darr located the button marked "Start" in Rihannsu and pressed it.  The engine struggled and died as Man'darr pressed the button again and again, each time failing to start.  "Start damn you!" Man'darr roared in frustration as he pounded the button with his fist.  To his surprise, the vehicle started up and lifted off the ground.  Man'darr immediately floored the accelerator and almost im mediately heard a cry of an animal as a furry animal grappled hi s face.  He could feel its tiny claws puncturing into his skin.  Man'darr immediately grabbed the animal, causing thr small animal to break its grip.  Man'darr looked at the ani mal who hissed at him in reponse.  "Stupid cat!  Where did you come from?"  Man'daar asked as he tossed the animal into a cargo container and locking it, though a part of him wanted to toss it out of the speeding vehicle.

He then arrived at the hospital and left the hover vehicle running as he entered the hospital.  More phasers struck the ground nearby.

===

Upon loading Branwen into the damaged cargo truck, Man'darr sped off as fast as the vehicle could travel.  The truck's engine whined as it strained to keep the vehicle at 128 KPH (80 MPH) as it sped though the devestated city.  Man'darr barely saw the Hydran soldier as he stepped out from behind a building.  The last thing the Hydran saw was the truck speeding directly in his direction.  Less than a half-second later,  the hover cargo truck impacted the Hydran, instantly shattering his skeletal system and ripping into the flesh as the body was forced down under the vehicle as it passed over.  Tha mangled body rolled a few times before coming to a hault.  Man'darr checked the side mir ror as he sped on.  'Ewwww, road kill,' Man'darr thought with an evil grin, turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

A few hours later, Man'darr had managed to get Branwen aboard the Galaxy and in its sickbay due to meeting up with Marine reinforcements from the fleet.  The large capellan stood out with his dirty and bloodied bandage and bare chest.

===

"Well, well, well - if it 'aint Lieutenant London", the gravelley voice chimed.  "An' yer in to condition t' hug me lungs out - I'm 'urt, lass.  We'll jus' have t' work on gettin' that fine Welsh constitution o' yers up an' runnin.  Jus' lay still, an' well take a peek at yer bits an' pieces."

She could see bright lights above her.  Branwen smiled, but this was probably what happened when you went to heaven.  Peaceful, the only thing missing was the heavenly music and loved ones waiting for her.  Maybe that would come later.

But then somehow she heard a familiar voice.  Branwen tried to focus.  Could God sound like Dr Mathieson?

"Doc...?"  She croaked.

"At's right, lass", the voice rumbled, slightly d istorted by a high pitched humming sound floading around the Marine's head..  "Kindly Doctor Math - still around an' patchin' up wot needs fixin'.  Like yer ribs.  An' yer spleen...an' yer lymphatic system.... Chris London - yer a mess!  Wot'cher been up to, eh?"

Consciousness was fading again, but she tried to hang on.  "My... job.

Man'darr watched the doctor begin to work on Branwen.  "I need to go to the Miranda and let them know I am still alive before they declare me dead or MIA.  Let me know when she is better, doctor,"  Man'darr headed out of the door of sickbay.

"Dar!" She called after him weakly.

Man'darr stopped mid-stride and turned around, re-entering sickbay.  "What is it?" he asked, approaching her.

"I love you. Come back soon." She was trying not to cry.

Ensign Artim Shivar - Science Officer- Biology

"Scars of War"

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

<<Science Lab 6 - Two Days after Liberation>>

It was all over, or that's what Artim thought as he settled in back in his lab. All the fighting, battles, and generally being on high alert for this long made a scientist long to get back to his job, science. For the last few months Artim had been performing some metabolic experiments on a wide variety of microorganisms used in new water purification techniques. The battle, and more lack of attention given that Artim had been assigned a variety of battle related duties had caused many of his experiments to be ruined. However he didn't seem to mind having to start them over. Time was something he seemed to have plenty of.

He had just finished loading a series of sample tubes and was on his way to the incubator when the comm unit chirped to life with the notification of an incoming message. He glanced over at the nearby terminal to see whether it was something he wanted to take. When he recognized the source code as being on Romulus, specifically the area where Valera's relatives lived, he nearly dropped the samples scrambling over to turn on the comm. When he did the face of an older looking Romulan man appeared on the screen with a sad expression on his face.

"Ensign Shivar I presume?" , the man said in a reserved tone.

"Most just call me Artim, but yes, I've been called that. I'm guessing you're one of Valera's relatives.", Artim replied, knowing Valera was one of the few people that called him at all by his last name.

The Romulan nodded in response, "Her uncle, Laris. I should probably get straight to the point, it will probably be easier for both of us this way. Valera...was killed." when the last word came out of the man's mouth it was clear that the man was fighting back tears and losing the fight. Artim on the other hand shot from his usual quiet calm to a strained look of pain. The words had hit him like a phaser blast in the chest and quite literally threw him back into the nearby chair. He thought he'd prepared himself for such news but, well, this was one of those things you could never really prepare for. As soon as he could get up the ability to speak, Artim said meekly in a voice more befitting a person his physical age asking about a parent's death

"H...how?"

"She was posted to the Warbird Tarsus during the intial fighting. She was wounded in the attack, but the Tarsus was one of the ships that made it away. She succumbed to her wounds a few days later. It was only this morning that we heard anything. She wanted you to be told..."

Artim leaned back and tried to absorb the news. It didn't seem unusual that it took her family a long time to hear about her death. It was still a blow.

"At least it was a good death", that was all Artim could say, still sounding more like a 10 year old then one who had lived for four centuries. A tear streamed down the Romulan's face as he continued.

"She did leave most of her estate to you. I'll have the details transmitted to you as soon as we can piece all the records together. There were also some things she left with us she wanted you to have. I'll have them beamed aboard. Her funeral will be in two days..."

"I don't do funerals, I've been to more then one person ever should", Artim interrupted before the invitation came. "I apologize, but I can't be there."

"I understand, you've been through alot. You need time to yourself, but don't hesitate to call if you need to talk."

Artim merely nodded, keyed in the transport cooridinates, and keyed off the comm.

"Coffee: The Exit Gateway Drug"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas

*****Ten Forward, USS Galaxy*****

Orange Juice. Fruit-flavored-no-nutritional-value-whatsoever-drink. Water.

Carbonated beverages! Coffee! COFFEE!

Nara's brain screamed in excitment as a chorus of hallelujahs silently played. It had been seriously depressed without the synthenol. (Not to mention the short stent of REAL, so sweet, alcohol.) Nara tried everything to try to get herself some kind of drink that she liked so much, synthenol would be unneeded.

It's not as easy as one would think.

Until she remembered caffiene. Caffiene was a drug. Not as damaging as alcohol, but a drug. It would be a suitable substitute.

Nara drank these things anyway. It's an insomniac's right. Lots of caffiene.

She just drank MORE of it now.

She formed another addiction, but this one did nothing more than kill her credits.

George looked over at the newest member of their little group, sitting across from him. The lithe Bajoran smiled back. She hardly knew anyone on the ship, having just transferred to the Galaxy and had found a few people, with the inklings of a small club that catered to her foremost desire; to act.

With no name and little in the way of anything, the quartet of wannabe actors were deciding what they were going to produce for the crew. And it had come down to Krellick's Seven Warriors of the House of T'Pek or Surin's Vulcan play about love and death. She didn't mind which way the others decided. She was just glad that she had found some friends who followed her passion.

George took a sip of his drink. "James, did you hear about the drunken marine?"

James shook his head, looking at each of the others to see if any of them had heard.

George continued, "He came in here last night, drunk out of his skull. Going on about how his woman had left him, and didn't want him back. The bartender had to throw him out. A lieutenant, named Johns, or James or something like that."

Nara overheard the young people and feeling in a bit of a good mood for deciding coffee's suitablity as a substitute, she smirked and spoke to them without looking at them, "Sounds like a good comedy. Maybe you should do that one." She was never one for rumors.

The Bajoran looked at the young woman at the next table and then back to her group. "That's not a bad idea. But we'd need to know more about the guy and his life."

"Typical marines. They always screw up." James smirked.

"Yeah, never seen anyone that drunk before. And from the looks of it, it wasn't synthehol either."

"Ah," George snapped, "I've got it. His name was Jonas."

Nara's brow furrowed and she stood very casually next to them and stated matter of factly, "I'm pretty sure people have plenty to say about a bunch of people so scared of reality, they prefer to be someone else." Her voice changed to show her disgust, "Marines save your asses. Remember that the next time the Hydrans or some other evil monster attacks."

With that, she walked out of Ten Forward.

****

Steven's Quarters

****

Steven sat on his bed, oblivious to everything around him. He had a half finished bottle of Romulan Ale in his hand and had been sculling it. It was his safety blanket, helping him forget the pains of his life. Well, that and the other empty bottles that lay scattered about his floor.

Taking a huge drink from the bottle, he never heard the door hiss open and Nara walk in.

"Did you mute your buzzer or something?" She walked in figuring to find him.

Not many people left their doors unlocked if they weren't there.

"Eh, what buzzer?" Steven asked quizzically, as he looked up from his bottle. He hadn't heard any buzzer, just a nagging sound in his ear. "Hey Nara," he slurred. "You wants a drink?"

She looked at the bottle a long moment, but shook her head, "No. I found something else. Glory be to coffee." She stated it flatly as she watched him, "Is she even worth this?"

"I love her" he said, before taking another sip. "but she doesn't. This lets me forget her, up here." He tapped the side of his head, a little harder than he anticipated, and found himself falling to the floor in a heap, azure liquid spilling all over himself.

Nara sighed. Last time she saw someone so incapacitated was the first time she met Dhani. She was not a coddler and he was a marine. So she'd treat him like one. "Get the hell up, Jonas!"

Steven started at the sudden loud voice, openening bleary eyes to see Nara's cross looking expression as she stared down at him. Using the bed as a prop, he rose to his feet, wobbly as they were.

"We have enough problems around here without some drunk marine!"

"I haven't seen any drunk marines" Steven replied, "But if I stop, I'll not stop thinking about her. And then I'll never get any work done at all" He waved a finger about indicating that he had made a good point. Well it was a good point to him anyway.

"You're STILL thinking of her and you're hardly in any position to get any work done!"

"No I'm not. I'm thinking about... no I'm not thinking about her." As much as he wanted to, he still couldn't get her out of his head. But then again, Nara was stopping him from getting in some quality drinking time. "Look, I'll give it up. Here take the bottle." he said, figguring that was the quickest way to get her out of his quarters.

Nara shoved it back at him, "Don't give it to me! I'm fighting to stop drinking the stuff myself! I want to see you pour it down a sink or put it in the recycler."

"Fine." He said, trying to stand again. Walking on shaky feet, with a little assistance from the wall, his desk and another wall, he made it to the replicator. He placed the bottle upon the shiny surface and pressed the recycle button, watching it shimmer away. "Coffee, black" Steven called out to the replicator.

Nara nodded, "Good. Coffee is the natural drug of the gods."

"We can hope so." He said with a smile. "And I suppose I should go see Bran about the missed meeting that was scheduled for today."

Nara nodded, "Maybe so. Do you need to talk?"

Steven shook his head. "Na. I'm just gonna drink my coffee, talk to Bran and get a good night's sleep."

"Alright. Good night."

"Have a good evening. And don't worry. I'll be fine."

As she walked out the door, she muttered, "Yea right." No one was THAT naive. But who was she to stop him if he was desperate enough to lie?

The moment she was gone, he popped open his footlocker and pulled out another bottle of Romulan ale. He'd managed to get some aboard in the confusion after the war and he only had a couple of bottles left. Cracking it open, he took a long refreshing swig of the potent liquid.

"Pushing Buttons"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG

Lt. Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer

Location: JAG offices - Faylin's Office

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

The conversation with Saul had been odd, to say the least. It complexed her a tad, but not so much as to deter her from the incoming information that she had concerning a break in a case back at HQ in San Fran. Taking a sip of her beverage, she looked up as she heard the chime sound.

Nara was rubbing the bridge of her nose as she left Jonas' quarters. It was a freakin soap opera. She needed to see Faylin. For several reasons and likely Nara shouldn't see Faylin until the thoughts were clearer. So, here she stood at the woman's door.

"Hello Nara......" Her eyebrows knitted, the inside of her starting to flip cartwheels. 'Shit!' She thought inwardly.

"Hi...." The awkwardness hung thick in the air.

"Uhhhh, hi? Take a seat." Faylin paused, bringing her index finger up and started tracing the right wing of the crystal dragon on the edge of her desk. "This is personal, isn't it?"

Nara sat reluctantly. "I'm not sure." She watched Faylin, "Since you told me about you and Saul, I've been concerned about something. I don't mean to offend, but, can you still take my case?"

Inwardly sighing for the moment, she offered a smile. "Yes, of course. I am able to separate my personal life from my duty life."

Nara nodded. "I trust you then."

Faylin thought. 'Erm...bad idea lady.'

Nara looked at the edge of the desk, wondering if she should stick her nose in Faylin's and Jonas's business.

"That's good." 'But if you really knew.' Faylin thought. She was very pleased that Nara did not have any telepathic abilities that Faylin knew of, or more that just words would be flying around her office.

"I.." She sighed, "I don't mean to poke my nose in, but I must tell you I found Jonas in a miserable state. He says he loves you. My guess is when a man can say that when the woman isn't around, it's pretty meaningful." Nara stood.

Faylin suppressed a chuckle, Saul's words filling her mind yet again.

Instead, her face instantly fell downwards. "Oh...so he's recruited you too I take it?" Faylin's voice grew even darker than the features on her face.

"His little 'campaign' for my affection is not winning my vote. So, next you see him, tell him I'm not interested in his love politics."

"Recruited? Hardly. I just heard some rookie ensigns talking about him, so I went to check on him. You have a past with my boyfriend. You have a past with a new friend. You're covering my case. As I see it, you're part of my life. I'm not looking to get chummy, but I felt it my duty to inform you of something that is important to you. I'm not asking you to go back to him.

I just felt the information needed to be given."

"Well now, Nara. You have no clue what is important to me, and what is not.

You thought wrong. What Jonas does in his time, is none of my concern.

By the way.....what new friend are you referring to?"

Nara furrowed her brows for a moment. "Jonas. I don't go check in on random people."

"Ah...I see." Faylin stood, coming around the side of her desk, sitting on it in a lackadaisical manner. "Like I said, I keep personal matters personal, and duty matters duty. I have the skills to more than adequately represent your best interest in this situation of yours. However, for future reference, it's best that we leave personal opinions and thoughts to ourselves. Nara, I'm not your friend, and likely I will never be so. I'm your JAG officer, which means, if you are in assistance of a bull dog attorney, I'm here. If you are in need of a friend, go talk to Jonas."

"As I said, I wasn't looking to get chummy. Just relaying information. I was reluctant to do so. Apparently for good reason." Nara pursed her lips from the cutting remarks she wanted to say.

Clapping her hands together, Faylin spoke. "Fantastic, we are clear on the terms." Reaching around her desk, she took another drink of her tea. Her manner was cool, downright chilly towards the woman. "Anything else?

Personal or non?" She threw out the challenge, to see if the woman beside her would bite the worm on the end of the pole.

"If we got personal, I fear I'd end up being sorely tempted to do something that would make getting a full promotion to Lt. likely impossible. So, maybe keep things professional. Have you heard anything from San Francisco?"

"Oh really?" Faylin growled with a slight smirk to her mouth. "I'd like to see you try." Straightening her posture to a rigid stance, she continued.

"Anyway, no. I've sent the initial report...but it does take time to get a response. Red tape still exists in this century."

"Yes, it is so unfortunately. However, I will try my best to speed things along." Lie, she thought simply. "So, I sense a little tension Nara.

Let's cut the Cardassian cattle crap shall we and get on to why you are really here."

Nara raised an eyebrow and smirked a bit cynically. "Wow. I don't know.

You have an interesting reputation. I trust you to separate things, but I wonder if we can work together."

"An interesting reputation. I've never quite heard it phrased like that.

Usually, I'm called a bitch, the Devil's mistress, Bathsheba, or Jezebel, and my favorite....Dragon. I think that's it. So, care to elaborate on what you believe my interesting reputation is?" Faylin wrinkled up her nose and spoke in a whisper. "I'd really like to know."

Nara shrugged. "I understand your hurting. I even understand taking it out on other people. I really just want to know one thing. Should I take your bitchiness towards me personally, or is it just your personality for everyone?"

"Oh." Faylin slightly tilted her head to the side. "You, my little engineer, do not need to worry about me. By the way, you have no clue about me, so back off. What you've heard, you've picked up from a Marine who is the major cause of my 'hurting'. So, when you become a counselor, feel free to stick your pert nose into places it does not belong. Until that time, spare me your thoughts on my hurting. You, have no freakin clue lady."

"That wasn't my question."

"I'm a bitch all around...so, don't take it personally." She offered a sly grin, much like Bental's. "Or do, I really don't care."

"Did you always have such a charming disposition?"

Her smile grew slightly larger. "Actually, now that I think about it....you'd have to ask Panther on that one."

"Panther?"

Her lips pursed as her eyes danced. "Saul." Faylin's head lightly lifted up as she said his name.

"Ah. He has a nickname for me, but I have yet to have one for him." Nara seemed completely unphased.

"Good for you."

Nara furrowed her brow yet again, in amused confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Faylin slowed her speech a touch. "I said....good for you. I'm happy he has a nickname for you. Something cute, funny, bubbly...totally sickening to normal people I'm sure."

Nara shrugged, "Just a nickname he picked up because most of the people on my home planet call me that." Nara gulped, realizing how embarrassing this could be. She hoped the obvious question would go unasked.

No luck in that. "Awwww." The JAG's face dead panned. "What is it?"

Nara sighed. "Princess. Just a bad translation is all."

"And all the people on your planet call you that? Should I bow?" She paused. "By the way, we dragons have a tendency to eat princess's." She glanced over to her crystal and smiled sinisterly.

Nara matched the smile. "Good thing I'm not really a princess."

"Too bad. I was getting hungry." Faylin shrugged.

"So, I suppose you like being called Dragon?"

"In not so many words. But I find it...so...bland."

Nara nodded. "You're right. It's not evil enough to suite you."

"Why, I take that as a compliment Nara."

Nara simply nodded. At least they were on some workable level. Passive aggression, snide retorts. This was much better than hidden awkwardness.

Open hostility was better.

"So, now that I don't have a boyfriend, are you worried that I might steal Saul back?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you TRIED. Worried he would fall under your seductions? Hardly." Problem being, Nara was halfway lying through her teeth.

"Whoa, okay. Sensing a tad bit of hostility there." Waving it off, she smiled. "Competition is quite healthy. Don't you agree?"

Nara looked at her squarely, "I believe he's done with you. I don't think he liked the outburst in ten forward. I rather thought it tacky myself."

"Oh, this coming from you? The queen of etiquette? Or should I say...synthenol."

"At least I see where I fail and try to fix it. Hell, I'm trying to get Jonas off the stuff cuz you broke his damn heart."

"Aw...isn't that sweet. Spare me the love fest for Jonas Nara."

"Well someone sure needs to! God's sake, Faylin! Do you INTEND to alienate everyone?"

"No, not everyone....In fact...I can think of one in particular...that I'll never alienate. And, it's not you sweetie." She stated with a hiss.

"Who?"

"You honestly can not tell me you are that naive!"

"Saul?"

"No, my dead father. Of course Saul." She stated sarcastically.

"Well...then....good." Nara was a loss for words.

Faylin arched an eyebrow. It couldn't be this easy, could it? That didn't have the desired affect she wanted. Darn. The officer chose to give silence a moment, while Nara obviously thought of something else to blast her with, then chose to take the hand. "So, you like him? Saul?"

"I dare to say I love him."

Her eyes grew wide as she attempted to swallow the tea that wanted to escape her mouth out of shock. "Have you told him yet?"

"Of course."

"Ah...okay." She shook her head to level herself from the shock she felt.

That, after she told him...........wow. Faylin blinked several times before she held her gaze steady against Nara's. She cringed. Faylin had told him that she still loved him. Certainly, that had to create some sort of inner

conflict in the man. "How did he take that? You telling him that you

loved him?"

Nara held her gaze and spoke slowly and steadily, "None. of. your.damned.

business."

"That good? Wow. I thought he would have been more receptive Nara. It's not everyday that a man has a beautiful woman tell him that she loves him."

'Let alone two.' Faylin spoke as plainly as she did. "Then again, he is Saul."

Nara let the passing taunt pass. She had been in a more testing situation with Branwen. She had gone through it with someone she called a friend before she was sure how Saul felt about her. But she knew now and she knew Saul didn't quite see Faylin however Faylin wanted him to.

So she smirked, "In fact, he told me he loved me first." He had actually whispered something about thinking he loved her as they lay together in a cave in Sakaria. It could had been no more than hormones talking from an unrequited sexual drive. But the words proved themselves since then. And the drive no longer so unrequited.

"He makes a habit out of doing that....." Faylin grew quiet, her eyes drifted to the smooth surface of her desk. She inwardly wondered if she was getting the point across to Nara. In her opinion, the only suitable way to plant doubts into this woman's mind was to fib. One thing, Faylin McAlister was rather good at.

Nara frowned, "How dare you. You try to mar my opinion of him? My, what a manipulative bitch."

"Oh? Am I? I had no clue." Her expression was stoic as she fished an ice cube out of the glass and began to suck on the end of it. Pausing, Fay said,

"Nara, I'm an attorney. By nature, we are very manipulative creatures."

"Oh we both know who you are. Saul does too. And no damn shit."

"I know he does Nara." She offered no more, just a slight smug smile.

"And he's a saint for putting up with you. He's a saint for putting up with me!"

"Nara...." Her voice low and teasing. "He's no saint...believe me."

Getting her meaning, Nara met her eye to eye, "And believe me. I know as well."

"That, I highly doubt." Her eyes narrowed in a challenging manner.

"I know. I could choose to know more, but I don't."

"As your attorney, I recommend that. That information is super sensitive."

Nara smirked, "I prefer my motive to be that I trust him."

"If you wish, it's your motive. Not mine."

Nara shrugged, "A devil's saint he is then."

"A last word of advice. Nothing is as it seems Nara. Even if given the best of intentions." She stood, grabbing the padd that held the information she needed. "On that note, I leave you....I have work to do. Good day."

"No it's not." Nara smirked. Her trust in Saul was at times shaky and at times unshakable. As she left the office, she thought, ~Look at Eve.~

Her shoulders sagged somewhat as she left her office. She knew she needed to talk to someone, yet who? Faylin made a mental note to reach the counseling offices and set up an appointment with the first available counselor. Finding one that didn't know Saul, could prove to be a problem.

"World's Finest, Part 9: Traveler in the Dark"

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

= The Mansion =

Alfred coughed as he stepped into the library, hoping that Bruce would look up at him. He did not. For the past two days, Alfred had been trying to coax the Batman out of this room, away from this long darkness, away from the growing pile of books that surrounded his ward.

Over the years, Alfred had seen Bruce Wayne suffer through many physical injuries, and as many - if not more - emotional ones. His body always healed remarkably fast. His mind, his psyche, Bruce himself...he never healed. It was simply not in his nature. He covered up his wounds, his scars and hid them from the world. Every cut, every bruise festered and grew, eating away at his humanity, making him more Bat than man.

Always before, Alfred had been silent. It was not his place to interfere with the personal affairs of Bruce Wayne. Yet this time, clearing the emotion out of his voice, the old man called to him.

"Master Bruce?"

Aerv tr'Ahalaen looked up from the map he was studying and gave Alfred a small smile. "Yes?"

"Cognac, Master Bruce," Alfred said, "L'Esprit de Courvoisier, an especially fine vintage. I thought...."

"Thank you, Alfred."

The old man hesitated, then added, "May I, Sir?"

That was when tr'Ahalaen noticed that Alfred had bought two glasses with him. "You do not need my permission - that is ridiculous. Of course, go ahead."

"Thank you, Sir," the butler replied, pouring out a drink for each of them. Then, taking a seat across from Aerv, he asked, "Are you looking for something in particular, Master Bruce?"

"I am looking for a flaw, Alfred."

"A flaw, Sir?"

"A flaw in this world," the Romulan replied, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of the cognac offered to him. "This is very fine."

"Yes, Sir," the old man agreed, "A flaw in the world, you say?"

"No holodeck programmer is perfect. I know that this world is not real

- this is not my world. Now either this is a holodeck, or something more complicated has happened. I prefer to eliminate the simpler possibilities first. So I am looking for some small city out of place on the map, some badly written phrase in Shakespeare, a missing line in Dickens. So far...I have uncovered nothing."

"Sir...that makes no sense.... You are looking to prove that reality is not real."

"No - I already know that this reality is not real. I am just looking to prove that I am right. Anyway, it is nothing you need to worry yourself about," Aerv told him with a small chuckle, "You belong in this world."

Alfred sighed, "Master Bruce...how much of this is about Ms. Kara?"

"Alfred."

"I am an old man. I see it. I see it in the way you smile at her, Sir. I hear how often you are gentle around her...."

"My research has nothing to do with...."

"Perhaps not," the aged butler agreed, "However, you have barely said two words in as many days. That is all about her, isn't it? The fact that you won't leave this room, the fact that you surround yourself with darkness - that is all about her. Are you in love with her, Sir?"

"Love is a very powerful word, Alfred - we toss it about too easily these days."

"That is not an answer."

Aerv smiled, "No - it is not."

"If I may be so bold, Sir - well, she told me what happened...."

"She told me I scare her, Alfred."

"Some times, Sir, you scare me too."

tr'Ahalaen laughed. "I know that the darkness inside me scares her...but you know what the insane thing is? She scares me too. She scares me so much. Her innocent beauty, her pure laughter, her...it is so easy for these things, these precious things, be spoiled by the evil that is in this world. I fear for her."

"An evil you understand?"

"An evil, a part of which, I have within me. I fight fire with fire, Alfred - I try to do what is good, what is noble, but I understand the other side. I have used art and artifice, duty and family, to become more than just a man of uncontrolled passions, I have fought myself - my...greed, my lust, my fury, my.... I have tried to be a good man, Alfred."

"I know, Sir. I think you will find that she knows it too."

"Yet on that boat...."

"You thought she was dead. And that knowledge broke the cage you have built for the beast inside you. It escaped."

Aerv nodded.

"Are you in love with her, Sir?"

"That word again.... I care for her a great deal. I know she has flaws - some I have seen, some she has confessed to me. Still I...feel like - it is like when I look into her eyes, there is a light within my heart, and I feel...elevated. When I think about her, the strength goes out of my arms, and all they want to do is hold her. When I hear her voice, Alfred, it is like a gentle music that sinks into my very soul. Is that love?"

The old man laughed, "Sir...I am not sure what else it could be. It sounds like you cannot live without her."

"But I can, you know - I know that if she left me now and never returned...it would hurt, but I would survive. I know how my life would be if that were to happen. It would be a satisfactory life. And if she were to return my feelings? If she were to stay and if something could happen between us...I fear that my darkness might taint the light that lives with her."

"You know...in the province of Sindh, that is in...."

"Pakistan, yes," Aerv nodded, pointing to the map, "I know."

"It is mostly a desert. There are, however, two rivers in it. Now in a desert, Sir, a river is a most satisfactory thing indeed. In a wasteland, a fountain head of life...that is a beautiful thing.

However, these rivers are remarkable for another reason - one of them is the most clear, sparkling blue water you will ever see. The other is a murky, mysterious emerald green. When I saw them, I heard that both waters flowed into one lake. I enjoyed seeing them both, but I assure you, I would have forgotten the experience entirely after a few years. After all, who remembers rivers much?"

Alfred smiled and went on, "However, I happened upon a rather rickety old wooden bridge that went across that lake into which both these empty. What is remarkable is that neither river loses its identity - one side of the lake is green, the other is blue. In the middle of the bridge, they meet - they overlap - they touch and caress each other, always with each other - yet they remain who they always were. It is a miracle, Sir. And my point is simply this: if you love her, you have to trust that she is strong enough to see, accept and live with who you are - she must do the same. That is the nature of things."

"That is all very pretty, Alfred, but you are ignoring the fact that she has seen the beast within me...and she hates me for it."

The old man shook his head, amused, "No, Sir. She does not. However, she is disappointed in you. And you cannot be so fiercely disappointed in something you are not invested in, that you do not care about. So I suggest you make this right, Master Bruce, if you can. Because I know that the extent of your desire is not just to live a satisfactory life...and nobody remembers rivers much...."

"Broken"

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG

Lt. Elaine O'Hare-NPC
Security

Location: Fay's Quarters

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

As she sat, she got easily lost in the amber colored liquid that sat in the crystal goblet. Her mind blank, she focused on the reflection in the glass. The reflection matching Faylin McAlister. In her mind's absence, her hand timidly tilted the glass back and forth, causing the liquid to swirl.

Even though she had bought back her soul, her demons of the past and present still haunted her, making her bitter to all. Her qualities, revered by some, were considered by most to fulfill the requirements of the title of bitch. She sensed nothing wrong with that. It's who she was. Her experiences in her short time on the Galaxy molded her into a woman who felt little, cared only for one, maybe two people if she would admit it, and focused on duty with a passion that was obscure to most around her.

The war may have ended on the planet, but it still raged deep within her. The urge to settle was fast winning over the carnal needs and wants of the single woman. It was hard to face the truth for her.

The one man she really wanted, did not want her. His coldness hurt, but, she understood that in loved someone else. And, the man that did love her, caused her pain as well. Why did she get involved in the first place? If she was honest with herself, she just wanted someone to hold her, to comfort her, and to tell her that it was okay after Olivia's death.

She found herself once again, a puppet. Although, instead of Steven, a dark force was pulling on her strings. Faylin felt unbalanced, words that were said between her and Saul only left emptiness in her, instead of a desired satisfaction she longed to feel. With time, she supposed that the door that opened to him would close. Sighing, as much as she wanted that, the reality hit that it would never happen.

No one would compare to him. It was infuriating to Faylin.

Without permission, the doors slid open to reveal a security officer.

She looked, just as Faylin felt, battered and bruised.

"Elaine...." Fay's eyes grew soft, for the first time in a long time.

"Fay." The tone in her voice was one of knowing and calm. Experience was worn on her features, making her appear wise. "You can use a friend right now, can't you?"

Her eyes misted over, a quiet, squeaky voice spoke. "Yea."

"Thought so babe." Taking a seat next to her, O'Hare pursed her lips, with a sympathetic air about her, Elaine leaned over and enveloped Faylin in deep, much needed hug.

Weeks of pent up emotion released itself as Faylin wept. "I.....I've lost so much Elaine. Then, on the planet.....Steven........"

"Steve? What happened?" Leaning back, she broke the hug, yet grabbed Fay's hand tightly.

"I don't know." Her eyebrows knitted with confusion. "We broke it off." She really didn't know what happened in the whirlwind that was her life the past few weeks.

O'Hare reached up, wiping a tear away from her friend's cheek. "I'm sure, if it was meant....."

"That's just it Lainy, I don't know if it was meant to be. I told Saul that I still loved him." She spoke quietly.

"Oh my god, you did what?" Her quiet amazement was not lost on the JAG officer.

"Yeah, I do.....I think. I'm not sure now. Elaine, he was so cold towards me. It wasn't the Saul I knew."

"The Saul you knew before, was not involved with anyone but you Faylin, come on. He has someone." She stated simply.

"Nara." The name rolled off her tongue like a large belch after a satisfying meal, yet this meal was anything but satisfying.

"So, why are you messing around with a taken man Faylin? That's not you....."

"I don't know who I am anymore." Fay's eyes displayed the ultimate hurt she felt as she pleaded with the woman that sat beside her. "Who am I Elaine? What am I now?"

Elaine leaned back into the softness of the sofa, her eyes expressed experience of love, loss, battle and victory. In the short time she knew Faylin, they had become kindred souls. Built from the same spunk and vitality, they shared many nights just chatting. Bringing her hand up to cup Faylin's soft face, her emerald eyes misted over, matching Faylin's dark amber colored eyes. She knew exactly where Faylin was at, she had been there many, many times in her past. Elaine wanted to hold her friend up high, taking away her pain. "Baby, your broken."

"I'm broken......................"

"Failure"

2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - 2nd Platoon, USS Galaxy

****

Have you ever found everything in your life slipping away, like a boat that has slipped it's mooring, and no matter how hard you reach, it is always just out of your grasp?

I have!

In fact, that pretty much sums up my life. Always out of reach.

It doesn't matter what I do, nothing in my life is ever constant. Not my friends, colleague's, not even the woman I love, whom I thought shared my feelings. There is nothing I can anchor myself to, nothing to keep me on the straight and narrow. Just a bunch of jagged rocks threatening to rip my life to shreds yet again.

And there's not a god damned thing I can do about it.

Once, not long ago, I thought that I had found the one thing that could take hold of me and show me what it was like to love again. I see now that I was at folly to believe that anyone could, in their right mind, love a simple marine. Sure, I have my faults, I won't deny that, but even so, the thought that love could shine was one I thought was possible.

Boy was I wrong.

Not only did the brightness that had filled me up vanish like a wisp of smoke, but the dark clouds formed so fast that I could almost swear that there had never been that ray of light shining down upon my life.

It feels like I'm lost in the storm, unable to find a safe port to harbor from the ravages of the hurricane that threatens me. No lighthouse guides my way, it's bright light shining out into the sea, helping me find my way home. There is nothing but the bottom of an empty bottle to keep me company these days.

There are no brave soldiers, just foolish souls who try to make a difference. I don't call myself brave. Hell no. I couldn't care less about being brave. I'm foolish, both in my duties and it seems in love. For I love a woman who doesn't want me, and I have no clue as to what I can do to win her heart. I'm not a warrior, I'm not even a soldier. No, at present, I am just a mean drunk who has lost the woman he loves and pities himself for it. Is there no hope for me?

Is it wrong of me to wish that I had not fallen for her? Cause with no hope in sight, I find myself wishing that I could take it back. She has so many sides that I can't keep track, and the constant changing from hot to cold is damned impossible to try and figure out. I hope one day she can might have the gall to stand face to face with me and, with no hidden agendas or sly thoughts, explain just why she just turned so cold in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

I've heard all the rumor's, about her getting around, about her jumping from man to man faster than the ship jumps to warp, but for all that, she seemed like she was keen for me, that she wanted to settle down. Heck she even said it a couple of times, yet.... god, I don't know. I'm never gonna be able to figure her out. After that fiasco in Ten Forward, I get the distinct impression she still loves Saul, and no matter what happens there, it can only end bad for Nara. She's a good woman, loyal to a fault, and I'd hate to see her being shunted out into the cold by Fay and her cold-heartedness.

Stop thinking about her you idiot. It's not doing you any good.

Norma Jean, Boomer Sweet, Begj, Too many of my young charges died upon the battlefields of ch'Rihan. Forever gone, I can feel their lives just out of reach. I failed them. I wasn't there when they needed it, I couldn't save them. It's eating away at me like a disease, twisting, turning wrenching my innards around. I failed them and now they are all dead. What hope is there for survival when such youngsters perish while I survive? Where is the justice for a woman to die, a mere hour before we achieve victory, having just found the man that send her heart into flutters like no other man could, while I, having had my heart ripped out by the woman I thought loved me, survived? Where is the justice in that?

I failed them!

I failed her!

I failed them all!

(OOC: This is the prologue to a story arc I'm working on with various people. Also note that I'm going to start using the "proper" name of Miri's planet. Ray brought it to my attention that there was a TOS book that gave it a name so while I'm not relying on it for much else, I am going to stick with the name :) )

Ambassador Artim Shivar - Federation Council Member, Juram IV

with
Lian Verian - Federation News Service (NPC)

"There's More Than One Answer to These Questions"

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

<<May 21, 2961 - SS Point Eran - En Route to Earth>>

<Begin Hololog>

(The scene starts with the logo of the FNS and then fades into an image of a middle aged human male seated in a lavishly appointed lounge. He is seated in a high backed red velvet covered chair. The background behind him seems to be something resembing black marble. A tall fern can be seen off to his left)

"Good day everyone, this Lian Verian of the Federation News Service reporting from the starship Point Eran. For the past two months I have been traveling with Artim Shivar, Ambassador for Juram IV as he made a goodwill tour to various spots in the Federation. On the final leg of our journey from his homeworld back to Earth for the Federation's Octacentennial, the ambassador has agreed to an exclusive interview with me. Thank you for the pleasure ambassador."

(The holocam zooms out to reveal a person with the appearance of a human teenager, about 16 with straight black hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He is wearing a red silk tunic and broad rimmed black glasses beneath which his handsome blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the lights)

"The pleasure is all mine Lian. Despite my noted dislike for reporters its been a pleasure having you on this trip." Artim said with his familiar childish smile.

"Now to those who haven't been watching our series and aren't familiar with those from your planet, despite your rather young appearance you're actually celebrating your thousandth birthday tomorrow aren't I right?"

"1001'st actually, but when you've lived this long you don't really count them the same way." Artim said chuckling

"Indeed, indeed. And you've served on the council for what, 90 years now", Lian asked

"93 , though I'd like to announce here that I will not seek another term on the council and retire when my term is up next year. That should settle the speculation of my seeking an eigth term as President. I had my fill of that a decade and a half ago." , Artim said with a smile.

"So what do you intend to do after politics?"

"I dunno, I thought I'd take up professional raquetball. Maybe golf, I'm not sure what my old bones can take."

If it wasn't for his professionalism, Lian would have laughed hysterically at that, but he stuck with a measured tone though a slight chuckle escaped.

"Now, before you went into politics you served a long career in Starfleet during which you captained close to a hundred ships and fought in most of the major battles of the 25th and 26th centuries. Of all of that time, what was your most memorable assignment?"

Artim's face changed to a more ponderous look as he replied, "I figured you might ask me that so I thought on that for a long time and while the launch of the Planck was a sight to behold ushering in a new era for the Federation, I'd have to say my very first assignment on the Galaxy."

"Why that one if I may ask?"

The previously jovial tone drastically shifted into a far more serious one.

"Well Lian, before I joined Starfleet I really hadn't belonged to anything before and didn't really want to. I was a lost soul so to speak. I hadn't kept a job more then a couple years entirely by choice. My experiences on the Galaxy made me want to stay with the fleet despite the obvious handicaps a 10-year old looking child in uniform faced."

"So it shaped the rest of your carreer, made you into the person you are today?", Lian asked curiously though it wasn't hard to tell he was delibrately oversimplifying.

"In a manner of speaking." Artim's previously serious tone remained, though a bit more youthful energy pushed its way in. "It gave me purpose, a direction, and a chance to use my knowledge and experience in a productive way that being an actor or a shuttle pilot really couldn't. Besides, I wasn't being glared at by angry Nausicaans every day."

Lian got a wide grin on his face for a moment, but it promptly went serious again. His tone seemed somewhat reluctant.

"I hate to ask this as I know its a somewhat sensitve subject, but you mentioning the Galaxy made me want to ask you something I've been curious about as I'm sure many of our viewers have been. A cure for your...condition has been around nearly 6 centuries and the vast majority of your people, those who were on Juram IV when Captain Kirk found the world, have taken the treatment. You however are amongst the few that haven't. Why have you chosen to live as you do? Why don't you want to age normally?"

Artim took a deep breath. Of course he'd been asked this many times before, once every few decades for the past 500 years or so. He didn't look or sound as if he was giving an answer he'd given time and time again though, mainly because it wasn't. In fact he never really settled on a single answer.

"There's more then one answer to these questions Lian. Some think I relish being near immortal and I must say there's more then an iota of truth to that. I probably have another six or seven millenia to look forward to and there's some degree of pleasure in that. But it's also a greater burden then you might imagine. I guess the real reason is that I feel that its important to make sure people remember the mistake we made a millenia ago, to make sure we don't repeat it...

"World's Finest, Part 10: A Sunbeam's Kiss"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

= The City =

Alfred found her sitting on a park bench, drenched by the rain. Without a word, he walked up to Kara and sat down next to her, holding his umbrella so that it sheltered her from the fading storm. All his movements were practiced and calm, as if everything were in order - as if the day were perfectly clear. His poise was so resolute that she wondered if he even needed the umbrella to stay dry.

"Good evening, Ms. Kara."

She turned to him, water on her eyebrows still dripping down her face.

"I hadn't noticed..." she bit off, then shook her head, immediately regretting her tone. "I'm sorry, Alfred. It's...a little better, now."

She smiled weakly.

"May I be as bold as to ask what you are doing here?"

"Just thinking," she said plainly, and abruptly enough that it didn't seem to invite further discussion.

"Very good, Miss," he noted, sounding quite amused, "I occasionally think myself. I find it a most refreshing exercise. Still...to be thinking quite so much as to not notice a storm overhead, well...whatever occupies your thoughts must be grave indeed."

"It's not like I can go back to the manor."

"Indeed? And why not? It's not like you're likely to see Master Bruce.

He's locked away in the library, hiding from you." Then Alfred shrugged, "And if you were to see him, I am not certain it would be such a bad thing."

She shook her head emphatically. "I have... doubts, Alfred. Doubts about him, and-and me, and these things I can do that should be impossible, and..." she looked at him, guilt-ridden, "Sometimes I look at you and think that you can't possibly be real."

Alfred laughed. "I do believe that should be my line." He paused, "Well...it seems to me that you are thinking of two different things at the same time. Doubts about ourselves are funny things, Miss Kara - once we open our minds to them, they spill into every part of our lives...even the certain ones."

"Everything is a lie," she said, folding her arms around her waist and hugging herself at the thought of it. "Everything I can do, everything I am. It shouldn't be possible, but it is. I have ideas about how things are, how they should work, and be... I remember things that don't exist in this world, and there are things in this world that I don't know how to..." she curled her legs up and hid in her arms. "Great, now'm falling apart in front of you." She was so embarrassed, felt so very small.

"I have lived a long time...and I have seen people with fewer burdens falter and fail. You...you just sound like Master Bruce. He seems to believe that you are the only real thing in the entire world."

"That was how I felt about him," she explained. "But then, when I saw what he did to those men... I thought... wouldn't it be better if he wasn't real either. Wouldn't it be better if you were real, and Martha.

She's so sweet...." Kara paused, staring ahead at nothing. "I thought I knew him, but I don't. Not really."

"Because he lost control of himself? Begging your pardon, Miss...but only a couple of days ago, it was Master Bruce who was angry with you for doing the same thing. And - though trust does not come easily to him - he forgave you. Kara...everyone makes mistakes, and everyone needs forgiveness - the best of us do." Alfred sat back and sighed, "Now Master Bruce, I will admit, is a man of many faults - and he himself admits that there is a darkness within him. However, for you to deny someone who loves you so, to leave him in the darkness that he fell into only when he thought you were lost to him...well, that strikes me as a little heartless."

She thought about it for a long moment. Then, decided, "I'm afraid."

Alfred smiled, "So he is...and it seems only natural. Once, when I was a young man, fear was a thing to be conquered. Now it is a gimmick used to sell us things - wars, security systems, online dating services - I suppose it is only makes sense that we have begun to use it to sell ourselves reasons why we should not dare, dream or love. Fear truly has become a knife in the heart of wonder."

"But... everything is a lie, Alfred. I'm in this dream and I can't wake from it."

"Even if I were to grant you that, Miss Kara, that still does not explain why you would turn away from the one person you know to be true.

It is my opinion that your first answer - that you are afraid - is the right one...and that is something I would urge you to move beyond."

He paused for a moment, then took one of Kara's hands into his own, "You know...you are not the first person to feel this way - and I am not talking about Master Bruce. One of my countrymen - Matthew Arnold - felt exactly as you feel now on his honeymoon. And, after surveying the whole world and finding it false, he returned to the woman next to him.

He said: Ah, love, let us be true / To one another! for the world, which seems / To lie before us like a land of dreams, / So various, so beautiful, so new, / Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, / Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain."

She smiled and hugged Alfred tightly. "He's so luck to have you, even if... well that's not important."

Alfred cleared his throat, to clear any emotion from his voice as she drew back, "Thank you, Miss Kara. Yes - well, that brings us to your second problem, doesn't it? The question of your abilities...."

"If you have an answer to that one, I'll kiss you," she said drily, leaning back and sighing. Kara shook her head.

"You can kiss Master Bruce, Miss, and we'll call it even," he said with a small laugh, "As for your abilities - perhaps they are a lie - but they are a useful lie, are they not - like myself? You and Master Bruce...you are the titans of our times - and what makes you so are not your powers...but your immutable qualities - the ones that define who you are. Take away all your powers and there is still a courageous heart, a brave spirit. It is that heart and that spirit, I think, that should compel you to use your powers...even if they are not true, to bring about true benefits."

"Saving people, stopping criminals... how heroic." She laughed nervously. "I'm not brave... I've just been reacting this whole time, because... I didn't know what else to do. That's not courage, that's...

I don't know."

"Human?"

"Good for them. Where does that put Kryptonians?"

He sighed. "I'm talking about your spirit, and you bring genetics into it. Human is human, no matter what the gene sequence. Both you and Master Bruce are human - so you make mistakes, but you also do great things, difficult things because they feel right and good. I should like to think the gains are greater than the losses." A light crossed the corner of their eyes. They both looked up into the sky, watching the Bat Signal ripple on the rainclouds. "Case in point. He's waiting for you."

She stood up and reached for the bag with her costume. "Wait... what about you?"

He chuckled. "Go on ahead. I may not shoot fire from my eyes...but I do know how to hail a taxi."

"Right. Of-of course. Brave Mr. Alfred." She grinned, and sped off.

* * *

= Later =
= The Lake =

Kara ran towards the source of the signal with such speed that she had no time to stop and pause to reflect upon the beauty of the place where it was taking her. Arriving at the edge of a small lake, in the middle of a forest, she saw the Batmobile.

And, of course, he was there as well.

"Hey," Aerv said quietly, taking off his cowl.

She'd quickly realized this wasn't a business call. Her eyebrow arched and she walked over to him. "I thought this was an emergency."

He ran a hand through his hair, wet from the falling rain, and gave her a sheepish smile, "What would possibly make you think that?"

"I've done some reading," She explained. Kara pointed at the signal light. "How did it go? 'Citizens of Gotham. Gotham City has earned a rest from crime. But should the forces of evil rise again to cast a shadow on the heart of the city, call me.'"

tr'Ahalaen shook his head, walked over to the Batmobile and turned off the signal. "Do I always sound that pompous?"

"Yes. Why?" she grinned at him. "I think it's charming."

"Oh...good. I guess. Otherwise, this would have been considerably more difficult." He took a deep breath, looked at the ground, then looked to the heavens. After that, he stared at this hands for a moment, then - as if he had made up his mind - walked up to her and said, "I was talking to Alfred. And...there is this desert, you see - and...there are these rivers - and there is this lake...and water...."

"Water? You don't say." She crossed her arms, watching him with bemusement, and waiting so he could finish his thought.

"It sounded a lot more profound the way Alfred tells it. The point is...I...well, you see, there is light, and then there is shadow. And light can be light - that is good - and shadow, I suppose, can forever be shadow. But...for light to...for darkness, that is....." He stepped back, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat, "I am known for being suave, you know."

She nodded.

"No mercy, I see...fine then." He walked up to her again, and this time took both her hands in his and held her sparkling gaze, "This...there is, really, no original way to say this, I think. And I really, really hate cliches...but bear with me. I have never had occasion to say this to anyone - and this is going to sound a little insane. I mean...I know you..and you know me, but we...it is not exactly like we know each other? You know?"

Kara let him hold her hands. "No," she whispered. "Well, yes and..."

she shrugged. "I know you, but this place has taken something from us, and I can't figure out what it is. I'm so close to the answers, I can *feel* it."

"I know," Aerv said with a nod, "I know it. It cannot begin to imagine how to explain it to you...nothing is real - except for you and for me."

He squeezed her hands gently, "This is real. This is true. And...in this reality, or in any other reality, it is also true that I am so...so completely in love with you, that I.... The other night, when I thought you were lost, I...."

She pulled a hand out and placed her fingers on his lips. "Okay, now you're off the hook. I have been amused." She lowered her face to dance a glance with her sky-blue eyes. She leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand, under which his own lips rested. "So... a lake."

"Alfred can explain it better."

She nodded in agreement, then pulled away from him and walked to the water's edge. "And you're wearing your body armor. What a shame."

Aerv laughed and shook his head, "You wouldn't."

Kara unclasped her cape and tossed it in his face. He grabbed it in the same time a splash sounded from ahead.

"Did I mention," Aerv asked when her golden head emerged from the water again, "That I love your cape?"

"Fine," she spit out water, and pushed her hair behind her. "I can put it back on."

"No...I think I'll keep it," he replied taking off his armor, before slowly walking into the water after her. The water was freezing - though of course, she didn't feel it. "Something hot to wrap my coffin in...after I die from the cold. The irony is quite appealing, actually...."

She smiled at him, shaking her head. "I have to say, bad day for a picnic, Bruce."

"I find I am having trouble noticing things like that when I am around you." He sighed in relief when the fire from her eyes warmed the lake considerably, "Thanks."

"And thank you," she said playfully, "for not telling me that 'I look hot.' I was worried you might try." Her eyes returned to their blue color.

"You're quite welcome. It was nothing, really...I make it a point to never state the obvious."

"Liar," she laughed, swimming around him. After a moment, he felt her hands on his shoulders as she slid up to him, talking into his ear.

"You know, the funny thing about having all of these powers... they go right to your head!" With ease, she dunked him under the water.

Aerv, who had been in the middle of a laugh, came up sputtering and spewing water. Running a hand over his face to clear it of water, as best as he could, he said, "Perhaps we should play a game where the odds are more even...."

"I know one..."

There was a fire in her eyes.

Not a fire borne of anger, but of something far more pure and admirable.

She had once known fear, and not long before, she had discovered the dark corners of his heart.

They had no need to think, no need to concern themselves with solitude.

What had led up to this moment was insignificant, nothing more than the road to something their hearts craved. They hungered for it the way flowers craved sunlight. They glowed with anticipation. She glided into his arms and pulled him in to finish the kiss she'd started out at sea the day before.

Her mind had been lighting-fast.

Her heart had found strength.

Her body had trembled with eagerness.

In his embrace, she found freedom. His heart had lifted out of the darkness he'd known, the fear of her fear, the wound of her scorn, melted in a blazing-hot instant until he felt weightless in the paradise of the kiss.

The metaphor was lost when his head brushed against a tree branch.

Their eyes opened and she let go. She was flying. He, once again, was falling....

"Wait...you can fly?" Aerv tr'Ahalaen asked he pummeled towards the water below, flapping his arms desperately, "What about me? I'm the Batman. The BAT...." The rest of his words were drowned as he fell into the water. When he emerged, he looked up at her, still floating in the air above him, laughing in delight. He grinned, "Okay...I officially have no complaints...."

She beamed down at him with a look of complete and utter joy. There seemed to be no end to what she could do. The sky was the limit. No, not even that. Her mind began to race as she went back to work on her hypothesis. She looked at her hands. She knew them to be her hands.

That was how she started each time, until she slowly but surely could work her way out of the riddle.

Looking back at him floating in the water, she nodded slowly. "I think," she said, carefully, "I know what to do next."

"World's Finest, Part 11: I Wish I Might"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

= The Bulwark =

The destruction surrounded her, on a scale that was difficult to imagine, despite it's familiarity.

Kara had fought viciously, with everything she had, and still it kept coming, a force of nature, imperturbable and invulnerable. Fire poured from her eyes in radiant red light, and only managed to singe it's ghastly white hair. Dodging it's swings as long as she could, eventually, the creature connected, and connected again.

Kara stood upon the edge of it all, barely holding on, as the creature overwhelmed her. Blow after blow, strike after strike, she felt herself bleeding out upon the dirt and stone, not just in crimson tears, but in spirit. She grasped for something, anything, to help, but found herself slipping. All she had now were memories, and those she couldn't trust to be her own. She felt powerless, victimized, beaten.

Slow.

Weak.

Unprepared.

Defeated.

* * *

Before...

She'd come alone. It was safer that way.

Kara was more than a little distracted. Alfred's words had consumed her many thoughts. The words seemed to cut past her anxieties and questions to the heart of the matter. A strange comfort. He'd made living in this strange new world easier, and she was thankful for that. But this was not her world. She was a visitor.

Technically, she was a trespasser. The warehouse smelled of dust and stale air, and metal, and sweat. She already knew they were here, and she was pretty sure they knew she'd arrived as well. But there was time, time to study the crates. They bore the same symbol as the ones on the boat, and they were a very important clue.

It was an old symbol, framed much like the one she wore on her uniform.

Three jointed legs coming together to form at the center. It was a crest in it's own right, from The Isle of Man. Associated with progress and competition, in this stylized form it bore a commercial flavor. Her gut told her it was more of an advertisement, that it was meant to be noticed. A simple symbol that had shown up for centuries not only on Earth, but other planets.

How she'd known that, Kara wasn't entirely sure, but she knew that if she could unravel this mystery, defeat this nefarious plot, that she'd finally come to understand. But who needed so many weapons, and to what end?

"My dear, you are not the one I expected to find snooping around my things." A man stood atop the stair, flanked by forms wearing black.

He himself wore a cloak that signified more royalty than the fashion sense embodied by her and Batman. His eyes were piercing, and deep as the pits of hell. They were equipped with swords and not much else. A pity for them, when she could hold her own against explosive rockets.

"But you are a far sight prettier."

"I'm here to stop you. Among... other reasons." She searched the room for more, largely not paying attention to him or his flunkies.

"I've heard what you are capable of, Supergirl, so allow me to extend you an invitation. Let me show you what all of this is for."

"I think it's safe to assume I won't like it."

"Would you rather have us fight? It would be so crude, and my men are no challenge for you. What do you have to lose?"

"Time."

He sneered. "Fair enough. You'll regret crossing blades with the League of Assassins." Like a wraith, he lept from the stair and sped toward her, flanked by living shadows.

They swarmed upon her, but their blades could not pierce her skin. Like steel on steel, they clashed against Supergirl. Flinging them off of her, she saw the man approach swiftly, coming up to her and halting.

Truly the counterpart to Batman's crusade of justice, he reached into a pocket and pulled a shard of translucent green rock. "Kryptonite, my dear." She shrunk back, eyeing it warily. "I will accept your surrender now."

She leaned against one of the crates, hands grasping something behind her back. Sliding to the ground, she hid her face from him.

He smiled, his eyes crazed. "Does it hurt?"

"It... it... the pain..."

"Yessss, the pain." He leaned forward, leering at her. "All of these weapons, they're just the beginning. I keep my ultimate weapon at bay, waiting for the right moment. Rockets and guns can only do so much...

but the slumbering beast that awaits below... he is the true scourge that will level this city and bring about my glorious Utopia! The world will be cured by me. Cured of the sickness that ails it. Behold the perfection of Ra's Al Ghul, immortal!"

"Ughh..."

"But not all is lost. Perhaps you might be my queen. A creature of your beauty deserves such an opportunity..."

"Please... the pain is too much..."

"Your pain excites me, Supergirl." With his free hand, he pushed her hair to the side, revealing the most unexpected of expressions. A satisfied smile.

"Not." She yanked out a belt and pushed all of the buttons. Batman could afford more. Smoke billowed from pellets, and sparks flew left and right as the shadows were enveloped by a non-lethal cloud of nerve toxin and Supergirl's fists. As the room cleared, bodies of ninjas were strewn across it.

"How...?!"

"Batman figured whoever was behind this might know how to exploit my weakness, so he had this costume treated to absorb radiation emissions.

The Kryptonite only itches."

She kneed him in the groin, sending him tumbling back. "You witch! You could have been my bride! Part of my new order. Alongside me, we could have been unstoppa..."

"I don't have the patience for monologues from creepy old villains. Lie down and shut up."

Walking past him, she made her way to the stairwell.

The warehouse was old, but the artifice it stood upon was truly ancient.

The smell of sulfer invaded Kara's nose, and she knew with her whole body that this place meant power. In the center of the cavern, a bubbling pit of the strangest substance brimmed with a mist both foul and sweet. She peered inside, though her mind screamed to stay back.

There was something unnatural in it's depths.

She heard footsteps behind her. Ra's al Ghul approached at a steady pace. She watched him as he entered his sanctum, waiting for any tricks he might possess.

"The Lazarus Pit. It will grant you immortality, and the cost of your sanity. For a time, anyway. With my help, you can overcome it's pull, master it."

"Immortality?"

"Majesty!"

"Maybe I should just destroy this place," she said. The words felt right.

"By all means." His words were odd to her. Kara's gut told her he had some insight into this game that was being played on her and Bruce. A look in his eye. He was holding all of the cards. "And give up all of this?"

"All of what?" she yelled, marching up to face him. "These gifts I have aren't real. They can't be. No one can do what I do. No one. It's all a lie. Somehow, some way I will figure it out. Get to the truth of things."

He shook his head. "The truth is a matter of perception. There is truth in lies as much as fact."

"Yeah, well, you may want to get clear. I'm bringing this place down."

She walked over to a support beam and began to wrench it from it's place. The metal frame protested, and she hesitated, waiting for him to leave. But the man stood his ground.

"I was afraid it would come to this," he said solemnly. "I had such high hopes for you." He marched over to the pit and looked inside.

"Arise, creature. Come forth and put an end this sad facade."

"Finally," she hissed, and walked toward the pit. "It's time to end this."

He sighed. "It was good while it lasted. Goodbye... Supergirl."

And something did come up. She watched as a behemoth of a creature pulled itself out. It's form was demented. As much bone grew outside it as did in, and there was a glimpse of insanity in it's beady red eyes. When it saw her, the eyes gleamed with murderous intent. Through a cage of bone, it stared at her chest with the fury of a hurricane.

"Sssssssss...."

Ra's al Ghul lept into the pit. The creature took a first step. And then, her agony began.

The first impact shattered glass for ten blocks. She shot like a missile through the roof of the warehouse and landed in the middle of a busy Coast City street. Cars slid to a halt and crashed into each other in a long line of bent metal. Horns blared, and people scattered. It jumped after her, and she lept up to meet it midair, driving it back with all her strength so that they both crashed back into the warehouse.

Support beams buckled, falling debris triggered explosives still stored in the cargo, and the warehouse went up like a cinderbox. She hit the creature with everything, and still it kept coming. It was as if it had been created for one purpose, her destruction.

The fight spread once more into the streets, and it took everything she had to make sure she did not end up killing the people who had been caught in the middle. Until it stood over her, striking again and again.

* * *

Now...

Her ears caught screams in the distance. Kara looked up.

There was a fire in the heavens, falling toward the Earth.

Kara pushed herself off of the ground. Everything hurt, but not enough to keep her down. It was laughing, so loud it hurt her ears. Coast City trembled at it's laughter, a skeleton of it's former self. Before the impact, before Supergirl had happened.

The creature was mindless, an abberation of pure, unadulterated stupidity. But it was not an island unto itself... if anything, it was an echo of this world. A reminder. Like Alfred's words to her the night before, the things he said at once empowering and focusing her.

She came to her feet, wiping a bloodied lip and grinning at the monster without an ounce of fear.

She was fast.

She was strong.

She was ready.

And soon enough, she would be free.

Standing caused a flash of white pain. She focused on keeping each foot in place. This was meant to be her end. She felt it as surely as the God of this reality must have desired it.

The warehouse explosions had somehow clipped a passenger jet. Even from this far, she could hear it scream through the atmosphere... hear the people screaming inside. She felt heavy, but she knew what she could do. What no one else could do.

The creature turned to face her, angry that she'd not stayed down. No more time for thinking. Supergirl tensed, and smiled grimly. Ignoring the creature, she gazed up, up into the heavens...

The plane dove toward the Earth at a startling speed, gaining acceleration, falling inevitably to it's death. The people aboard held on to what they could... some to their seats, some to their luggage, some to each other. Fate had snatched them from their lives and the price it demanded did not allow them to think.

A mother embraced her daughter fiercely, and strangers grasped each other's hands, desperate for some sort of connection, some meaning to this end. The pilots slammed at their controls. Business rivals seated next to each other hugged. Atheists prayed.

The plane's nose rose up slowly, and hearts stopped as they tried to understand how the impossible had happened. No one moved as the plane floated to the ground in the middle of a field just outside the city.

The air grew still. No one breathed. Then, the emergency door was pulled off of it's hinges. Supergirl stepped lightly inside. The gratitude in their eyes overwhelmed her. They whispered her name, and a chorus of cheers sounded out.

'You are the titans of our times,' Alfred had said.

Titans. The word resounded inside, deep within her. Suddenly fatigued, she rested against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing. A flight attendant walked up to her. "Are you alright, Supergirl?"

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked at the attendant and shook her head. "Not Supergirl. Not any more." She stepped outside, walking on the air, rising up slowly. She could see the monster in the distance, walking. But it wasn't the threat, just a symptom of the true danger.

The woman had run around the world, trying to break free from it. She'd had the right idea, if a bit two-dimensional, perhaps.

What she could do was impossible... but it wouldn't stop her from using the tools she'd been given. It was time to break the world.

She ascended slowly into the sky, and then picked up speed. She made fists with both hands and then raised her arms in front of her, shooting like a rocket through the sky. The flying thrilled her - she could almost lose herself in it - but she held on to an image, a memory of a lifetime ago. Of the rings of Saturn in a night sky.

The answers were on Titan. All of them...

"World's Finest, Part 12: Prime Time"

Elissa Skylark
Stranger From a Distant Planet

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Terror of the Night

= The Hub =

Nahuel the Vorta stood on an elevated platform, surrounded by eighty-seven monitors, grimly watching the unexpected twists and turns that had shaken his plot, and utterly ruined the season of 'The World's Finest' that was meant to be his masterpiece. He had been abducting people, reprogramming them and subjecting them to a holographic reality of his choosing for years now. Never once - not *once* - had any subject managed to rediscover their true identity. And now, in the same season, it had happened twice.

Aerv tr'Ahalaen, had discovered the truth - or part of the truth - through love and passion. Now Nahuel hoped that the Providers - or, the Network Providers, as they now insisted on calling themselves - would understand that there was nothing that Nahuel could have done to prevent that. How could he have predicted love?

However, even if that would make a difference to his benefactors (and he knew it wouldn't), the fact that Elissa Skylark had broken through his programming using nothing but her mind...well, that would be considered unforgivable. It proved that there was a flaw in the system, that only weak minds and faint hearts could be part of their show.... It was a very damaging blow indeed.

Wringing his hands together nervously, the Vorta began to pace around the small space available to him. Maybe the Providers would be more forgiving when he told them about how much the ratings had risen.

Indeed, the numbers for his show were through the roof - the scandal that this had caused was tremendous - to abduct and use people in this manner for entertainment purposes...that was a story that was spreading and spreading fast.

But no - perhaps it would be a bad idea to bring that up. The Providers had gotten out of the gladiator business to avoid the heat that Starfleet and other law enforcement agencies were putting on them. Now, thanks to him, they found themselves in the same position. Worse - since word had gotten out that "The World's Finest" had kidnapped the Rihanssu Ambassador to the Federation and a Starfleet Officer, a great many powerful ships were out there looking for the "Event Horizon".

Suddenly, the lights around him dimmed - and though this was not unexpected (for that is how the Providers always talked to him), Nahuel still jumped and gasped. With a hand on his heart to keep it from beating quite so fast, Nahuel cleared his throat weakly and said into the darkness....

"My esteemed Network Providers, it would appear that we have a slight problem."

/\/ We trust that was understatement, and not more evidence of your primitive perceptions, Nahuel. /\/

"Of course," he said with a certain exaggerated deference.

/\/ Explain yourself, then. How could your failure have been so complete in such a short amount of time? /\/

"There was no way we could have known that..."

/*/ We are not interested in excuses! /*/

/\/ Let him speak, Cayhrum. /\/

/*/ All he ever does is speak. Bloody 'Narrator'. Look where it has brought us. /*/

/\/ We should still let him explain. /\/

/*/ I don't give one quatloo of Horta waste product about his explanations. /*/

/()/ Cayhrum has an understanding in this area, Maviah. Explanations do us no good now. Now we need for him to correct the error that he has made. /()/

/*/ I say we dispose of him and implement the solution ourselves. /*/

/\/ You will imbalance his prefrontal cortex toward fear. /\/

/*/ Good then. Let the primitive lose bodily function a little. /*/

Nahuel cleared his throat. "If I may interrupt... I have already implemented a plan to terminate these subjects and...."

/*/ What? Have you lost all capability of rational processing, Vorta? /*/

/\/ I agree. Termination is inadvisable. /\/

/()/ You're both right. Killing these subjects is not an option. No, Vorta, you will release them. /()/

"Release them?"

/()/ Yes. You will release the troublesome primitives and inform them that you were acting without our knowledge or approval. Explain to them the benefits of this exercise and then release them with your apologies.

If they lack the capacity for forgiveness... surrender yourself to them and the proper legal authorities. /()/

"Surrender myself?"

/\/ Must we simplify the equation for you? /\/

"With complete deference for your wisdom and authority, I humbly request you reconsider my plan. I have already unleashed the Doomsday plot device. She may already be dead." Nahual was grinding his jaw with fury. He needed just a little more time to make sense of the situation and find a solution. In creative exploits, it was not uncommon to write oneself into a corner. But a brilliant mind like his could surely find a way out.

He'd already worked plausible deniability into his plan, having appeared as a character in the story. If killing them was unsuitable, then perhaps they would be able to accept a convincing fabrication.

The Providers considered things quietly for a moment, but only a moment.

/\/ This is a most dissatisfying turn of events. Your lack of gratefulness after everything we've done for you is insulting. /\/

/*/ We are responsible for everything that you are, Vorta. Before our aid, you were less than a speck, a mote of dust known only as Nahuel 15, the last in a long succession of failures. /*/

/()/ We should have known a clone of a failure would only breed more; it was simply a matter of temporal passage. /()/

/\/ Agreed, Thural. We withdraw our support. Leave us, 'Narrator'.

Consider World's Finest canceled. /\/

/*/ And do not let the vacuum exert force on your way out. /*/

Nahuel stood tall, nodded, then left behind, his intentions now much further from their demands. Much, much further.

[Backpost]

"Trading Souls"

Principal Characters
Lt. Commander Arel Smith
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

Romulus
Ki Baratan
2 Days after the Liberation

The wrapped bundle was placed in front of him.

Victor looked down at it as it lay there on the table. The oblong package, wrapped in soft leather with a peculiar spiral, self-looping twist to the leather that ensured there were no fastenings needed, lay there as he studied it over his coffee. It was a weapon of course; he needed no words to tell him that. Klingons only treated their weapons with the degree of reverence the carefully-wrapped bundle showed, and the Commander's soul was Klingon, no matter what her forehead said.

"I thought we could trade," Arel said with a shrug.

"Trade?" Of course, Klingons were as much a mystery to him in many ways as his fellow human beings were at times. Unless, of course, they were threatening to kill him... or actually attempting it; that was always easy for him to understand.

"He's alive," she said with a relieved smile. "So I want him back.

This is one of my favorites. I thought you'd like it."

That, at least, made sense. The Commander wanted her son back, the one she'd given to him during the invasion, while they were trapped on the planet and the fleet was far away, beyond the stars. "You don't have to trade anything for him, Commander."

"I know that," Arel said. "Consider it a thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, either, Commander," Victor replied in his toneless way. People didn't thank him for anything. Not people that weren't family, anyway. "That wasn't why I did it." He hoped that she wouldn't ask him to explain why he'd made the offer though - he wasn't good at that sort of thing.

Arel narrowed her eyes. "Open the package, Krieghoff."

Having seen that look in many a predator's eyes before, Victor set his coffee down and reached for the package. The wrappings took a second to figure out - especially since he assumed that he needed to know how to duplicate the way they were done after unraveling them. Once the wrappings were open and the item inside revealed, he looked at it for a long moment, the little he knew of Klingon culture - most learned, in fact, from observing the Attendant on their covert mission the previous year - telling him that something was wrong.

Inside the package was a d'k'tagh, a Klingon warrior's knife. This one, however, bore a seal on its hilt, marking it as belonging to a specific individual or family - Victor wasn't certain which, although there was an obvious assumption - that indicated that the one possessing it also possessed some, or perhaps all, of the honor belonging to the individual or family whose seal it was.

Obviously she'd mixed up the knives and given him the wrong one. "I think you've made a mistake," he said quietly.

"Do I strike you as the kind of person who makes mistakes?"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Commander. The trick is to survive them so you know not to make specific ones again." Victor nodded towards the knife, still careful not to touch it. "That is, I assume, your family device, meaning this weapon is a part of you. Perhaps you meant to select the weapon next to it when you were picking it up?" Klingons did not give away parts of their honor - their soul - to others.

Arel made a face. He was going to make her have to explain to him; she wondered if there was a way to do this without making it sound like sentimental bullshit.

"You helped me feel better," Arel told him. "So take the knife before I take your balls."

Perhaps he was wrong then, and this *was* the weapon that she'd intended to give him, and she was trading a part of her soul for the whole of her son's. Still, best to be certain. "My understanding of Klingon culture is... limited... at best," Victor said, meeting her eyes. "Correct me if I am wrong, but by accepting this weapon, I am accepting a... part of you. A piece of your soul, your honor. Is that correct?"

"Some see it as that," she agreed. "The warrior and his weapon are one in battle and so they share the same soul, so the songs go. For me, my honor demands that I give you this, a favored blade for a man who had no reason to give me any hope but did anyway. I probably should give you my mek'leth but I'm not really that nice. It's a good weapon though. Been in my house a long time."

Victor looked down at the d'k'tagh for a moment as he considered what she'd said. He'd never had a piece of someone else's soul before. He wondered occasionally if he even had one of his own; he supposed that other people besides him did that but had never asked. But to physically possess a piece of another's soul.... "What is your family's name?" he asked abruptly, deciding in that moment that he would not refuse the gift. "If I am to possess a part of you, then I should at least know that."

"Ralok," Arel replied. "We're a small house but there are songs of us."

"Ralok," Victor repeated. "Is there some thing specific that I should say? I do not know your rituals well. If you were Andorian, I would know better," he shrugged, "but you aren't. If I am to do this, it should be done properly."

Arel gave it some thought. "You can say "thank you and I will not dishonor your house."

It took a minute's thought to decide that he could likely do that without issue. "Thank you," he repeated carefully. "I will do my best not to dishonor your house." He studied her for a moment. "I am of House... Krieghoff," he offered, although the whole idea was still something that he wished his Aunts hadn't thought of. "We are small - besides myself, only my cousin Greta, and my Aunts Rexa and Ar'resh, the last of the Idrani Clan from Andor, have... joined my House.

"You are the head of your House?" Arel asked.

"So I'm told by the others. I haven't chosen to disagree with them, which makes it official, I suppose." Victor shook his head. "It would have been pointless to try, anyway. I've never won an argument with my Aunts, much less the two of them and Greta to boot."

"Formidable women are good for any house."

That was true, Victor supposed. Of course, even if it wasn't, there wasn't much that could be done about it without their permission anyway.

"I'm not surprised that you think so." He looked down at the d'k'tagh again. "Am I required to carry this?"

Arel shook her head. "You can do whatever you want, short of picking your teeth or something else unworthy of it."

"I won't be carrying it - I know nothing about the use of hand weapons, so it would just be a liability. The most likely thing that I will do with it is to place it on my wall; you shouldn't lock up parts of someone's soul in a drawer." He looked at her. "Will that be acceptable?"

"It will," Arel said. She reached out her hand and clasped his arm. "I can't say it's been a pleasure but thank you again."

Victor nodded once, closed his eyes and let go. "Your son is yours again, Commander. Take good care of him.... and I will take good care of the part of you that you have left in his place."

"Perchance To Dream"

(Takes Place After 'Trading Souls')

Principal Characters
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Flight Officer Angelienia
Transporter Chief Hope Cannon

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

He was coming home today.

He was alive and well and safe and intact and alive and....

He was coming home today!

Angelienia looked around Victor's quarters and smiled, wrapping her arms around herself and spinning once like a schoolgirl whose crush had just noticed her. It had only been days since the Galaxy and the rest of the fleet had swept the last of the Hydrans and their allies from the system, and only little more than a month since she'd seen him last just before he'd beamed down to Romulus, since she'd held him last, but it felt like longer. Much longer. Too long.

She was flying escort and security missions constantly now thanks to the shortage of pilots and the need to keep the relief ships moving through the system. Bad as the casualties had been among the capitol ships, they'd been worse among the fighters. The pilots flying off Galaxy now were not the same ones they'd entered the system with so long ago. The squadron was the same, but only in the sense that a drink was the same drink even though it had been refilled several times without being allowed to become completely empty. There were people she'd flown with for years now, as well as men and women from other ships, and, in one case, another fleet, as a distant relative of her fallen fellow pilot, Kor, had chosen to fly with the Rogues in the Second Battle and had yet to depart.

Through all of that, though, through the death and the destruction and the losses, she'd flown like her namesake, like an angel. Not the angel for which she'd originally chosen the name - a creature of unearthly, heavenly beauty - but a different kind, an avenging warrior angel, swooping through the battle with a flaming sword of vengeance. She'd flown beyond herself and known it, just as Corran and the others had known it. She was a good pilot, one of the best, but something had changed for that one day, something that made her better than she'd even been before - perhaps better than she'd ever be again.

Unlike the others, though, she knew why: for that one single day, for that one battle, she hadn't flown for herself, or the fleet, or the Federation - she'd flown for him. She'd heard his words in her mind, forbidding her to die, felt him there in the cockpit, guiding her hands, nudging her an inch here or a few feet there, warning her of opponents that she never saw, holding her in his embrace as she helped to clear the sky over the world he'd been trapped on and set him free to be with her again.

And now he was coming home, having located the last of the six crewmen he'd stayed to find. She'd checked the casualty postings every other hour when she was able, watching for the names that would bring him home

- and, oddly, hoping that he'd saved them all, even though that might delay his return. In the end, three had been slain by the Hydrans during the invasion, but three lived. He hadn't saved them all... but he'd saved all he could, and she'd be sure to tell him that, so he wouldn't return to sitting in his cabin in the dark and looking at the stars as he brooded.

She wished he'd hurry, wished he was here already. She'd contacted his family and told them he was alive. His Aunts had seemed sure that he would be, and had chatted for a while, even offering her a traditional recipe from their Clan's history to prepare for a returning husband. She wasn't sure how Victor felt about Braised Ice Spider though (or the implications that they were married serving it to him would have had), so she'd held off on making it. His cousin Greta had been relieved and had thanked her for the call, asking a few questions and inviting her to a family social event scheduled some months away - and asked that she make sure Victor came. His parents had been the best of all the calls though, because she hadn't talked to them before; they'd talked for over an hour about them and about her and about Victor and about her and Victor.

Angelienia smiled again, thinking of the way Victor's mother had been so happy to actually speak to someone that was involved with her son. It had been awkward at first, it had been months - almost a year - since Victor had last spoken to them, and their initial thought had been that she was calling to tell them something bad had happened, but after a few minutes of talking things had grown easier. They'd asked about what she and Victor did, and had asked about things she didn't know, especially whether he was hunting regularly (she'd had to say 'no' to that, given what she knew of Victor's schedule, but had told them about their dancing which had seemed to make them happy), and if he'd made something for her (she'd gotten the impression that this was a family tradition before marriage, and had to make Victor's mother sad by telling her 'no'

to that as well). The call had ended with them inviting her to the same family gathering that Greta had.

It had been wonderful - she'd thought that there would just be the two of them - Victor and her - and that would have been enough. But she'd been wrong; there was a whole family that she was becoming a part of. A family that talked and met and visited and did all the things families did. A family like the one she'd lost in the War. A family that she could be a part of and never be alone again. Victor's family. Her family. Their family.

She sighed once and sat down to wait for him, dimming the lights. He'd be here soon and then she could surprise him and he'd hold her again and everything would be the way it was supposed to be. Maybe he'd let her sleep on his shoulder for a while, that would be nice because she was so tired and it was warm and safe here in his cabin and her eyes were so heavy....

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 6
Transporter Room 4

Victor had never thought much about the process of being transported.

It, like so many other things in his world, simply was. He accepted it and moved on without, as some did, wasting time on considering the billions of calculations that went into a single transport and the possibility that one of them might go wrong and change something: transpose a DNA strand and materialize him with his skin inside out, shift an arm to the center of his back; or add extra internal or external reproductive equipment that men normally didn't possess (human ones, anyway).

This time, however, as he materialized on the pad aboard the Galaxy, he wondered what would happen if the transporter did change something... say his hair color. Would he still be who he was if his hair was blonde?

Or white? Or green? Would people still recoil from him in fear? Would Angelienia still dance with him? Would she still be his girl?

"Ummm... sir?" Chief Cannon's voice made him realize that he'd finished transport and was standing on the pad looking off into space. "Are you... all right?"

Victor nodded and stepped down off the transport pad. "I'm fine, Chief.

Just thinking, that's all." He glanced at her as she stood behind the controls, the bulk of the station between them like a barrier placed there for her protection. The Chief was the smallest human Victor knew by name, 4'9 1/2" according to her personnel file, and the console almost completely hid her from view normally, even with the 4" 'shelf' she'd had installed on the floor to raise her height while working. She wasn't using the step now, which was normal for when Victor was in the room with her.

Oddly, Victor found himself wondering how she did all the other things that people did. How did she dance, for example, when no one age-appropriate was close to her height? She was striking in appearance with her naturally blonde hair, Asian features, and well-proportioned figure (he realized suddenly that were she the same height as Angelienia, she would be proportioned slightly more generously), and she seemed popular with the unattached men aboard as far as locker room talk went. How were her quarters arranged? Did she have special furniture?

Why was he thinking of these things, anyway?

Realizing that her eyes were starting to take on the look of a frightened rabbit, he blinked out of his sudden and bewildering thought train and offered, "I'm just tired, Chief," by way of explanation for staring.

As soon as he said the words, he realized that they were truer than he'd known at the time he said them. He *was* tired; tired all the way down to the bone. The weeks of fighting, of living as intensely as he did when his mask was off and he was the thing he'd been born to be, had left him exhausted in a way that he didn't really understand. It was something more than mere physical exhaustion, something deeper and more pervasive, and somehow he knew that mere sleep wouldn't make this feeling go away. He wasn't sure what would, but he thought that Angelienia would.

"Was it... bad?"

The question caught him off-guard, and he blinked at Chief Cannon for a moment before nodding once. "Yes." He considered that answer, decided that she wanted something more, and added, "Worse than most of what I saw in the War - and worse than anything I had to do then." Not, of course, worse than Jhorjah, though; the Romulans still had a planet. He thought some more. "It looks like Cardassia Prime did after the War... except worse, because we didn't destroy for the sake of destruction - the Hydrans did."

The Chief made a face, and nodded. "We've seen the feeds, but... well, you were there, and..."

"They're not showing the worst of it. The Romulans don't want anyone to know how much was really destroyed, how weak they are. What you see is... perhaps half... I would guess, of the truth."

She looked sick. "Half?"

"Half." Victor shifted the long bundle balanced on one shoulder, and tightened his grip on the case held in his opposite hand as a counterbalance. "If you really want to know, you'd do better talking to one of the others, Chief; someone that doesn't make you feel the way I do just by being in the same room. Maybe someone that's better at talking to people."

She nodded. "I'll ask around." She hesitated until he reached the door and it was opening to add, "Thank you."

If people were going to start thanking him, Victor decided as he looked back into the room, the least they could do was tell him what for so he could possibly understand why. "Why?"

Either the increased distance or the topic bolstered the Chief's courage, making her response clear and distinct. "Because you stayed to look for them when you didn't have to. I didn't know them all, just Cherri and Wilmer, but you stayed to look for them when you could have left."

Cherri Hamilton, the first of his lost sheep he'd located, had died along with two others, but Wilmer Mandessi, the last, had lived with two others. Victor had once heard that a .500 average made you 'a god in the majors' but all it felt like to him was a failure. "If both of your friends were still alive," Victor told her, his voice abruptly cold, the words steaming in the heat of the room, "then you could thank me; not now. I failed half the people I was there to evacuate and protect - that's not something you thank anyone for." He started to add something else, stopped, and walked through the open door without another word.

As the door slid closed behind him, Hope looked at it for a second, and then said, softly. "I wasn't thanking you for letting half of them die, Thunder King... I was thanking you for seeing to it that half of them *lived.*"

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

She was here.

With that simple thought, something relaxed inside Victor, a part of himself that he'd not really known was under tension. He paused for a second to study it and realized what it was: that tiny part of him had wondered if she would meet him at the Transporter Room, but she hadn't and a part of him had begun to worry that she wouldn't, that she'd decided that she didn't want to be his dance partner or his friend... or his girl, and just left.

But she was here, waiting for him and everything was all right.

He could see her now, sitting on the couch under the window, the running lights of the ship illuminating her there as she slept. She was still wearing her rumpled flightsuit, her helmet and gloves and other gear were stacked neatly on the desk to one side of her. Her hair had come undone from the tightly pulled-back bun she wore it in while flying, and spilled down over her shoulders in curling waves, partly obscuring one of her eyes and making him unaccountably want to reach out and brush it back.

He set the case containing his Hazard Team uniform and other things he'd taken down to the surface or picked up there down silently, and eased the bundle that held the rifles and tetryon pulse launcher he'd taken down to the planet and the others he'd acquired there, down atop it.

He'd go and sit next to her and wake her and then maybe she would throw her arms around him and smile like she had when he and Corran had come back from that trip to Mosanalea. That would be good; he'd liked the way that had made him feel.

Three silent steps later he realized that something was wrong; something else about the room itself was different. He stopped, one foot lifted slightly, and looked around carefully for the source of the difference.

It only took a moment once he knew to look for the difference to be apparent. Sitting in a pot on the floor next to the replicator was a single plant. Specifically, a Cardassian Blood Fern. Even more specifically, it was the exact same style of pot and plant that had been there years ago when he'd kept many such plants in his quarters.

He set his foot down and moved to examine it, running a finger along the red edges of the fern's fronds that had given the plant its name. She'd done this, of course; no one else would. Angelienia had remembered from long ago, from the first time she'd been in his quarters back when she was... different, what was here and which plants were where. She'd brought this one here to replace the one he'd sent away and never reclaimed.

Why she'd done it was another question of course, but Victor decided that it wasn't important. What was important was the fact that he liked the plant, liked having it here, and liked the fact that she had known that he would like it. It was comforting somehow to have someone that knew things like that about you. It made him feel... well, different.

But in a good way.

He slipped back across the room to stand over Angelienia and watch her as she slept. Her eyes were moving, indicating that she was dreaming, and every so often a hand or foot would twitch as if she were using them in her dream and it was reflected in the waking world. She looked... softer in this light, more vulnerable, even younger in a way.

Before he'd realized he was doing anything at all except standing there, his hand had reached out and brushed the hair back from her face, his fingertips almost, but not quite grazing her skin. She stirred, as if aware of his action on some level, and shifted position while making a small noise. A moment later she frowned and made the noise again, stirring restlessly.

That, at least, Victor understood. She was dreaming, and the dreams weren't good. He'd dealt with this before, with Rissa and Lieutenant Grey and knew the signs... and the cure.

He considered her for a moment, and then sat down beside her and carefully gathered her up in his arms, shifting her until her head was on his shoulder and she was seated in his lap, legs stretched out down the couch. His arms sought a comfortable position, he shifted once... and she made a different sound, a happy one and snuggled closer to him, a smile on her face now.

He sat there for a time, silently, sometimes looking at her, sometimes at the plant she'd brought, sometimes at nothing at all, while the weariness inside him slowly eased and the mere exhaustion overlaying it made his eyes heavy in the warmth of her closeness. He closed his eyes to rest them, realized that he was unlikely to open them again before sleep claimed him, and chose not to fight it.

As he drifted away, he wondered if he might, finally, dream again. He'd stopped so long ago, after Mirusa VI, that he wasn't sure if he remembered what it was like any more. He'd thought that he might have dreamed about the General's wife on Romulus once, but that was just his mind playing tricks on him; you didn't dream about another's One. But here, now, with Angelienia in his arms... perhaps he would dream again.

Perhaps he'd find himself someplace green and lush and he would hunt... or maybe he'd find himself dancing with Angelienia... or maybe, just maybe, he'd dream of lying on his couch and holding her and smelling her hair and feeling the warmth of her in his arms...

That would be nice.

"What I did on my vacation"

Starring
Crewman Allison
Lt T'lan (npc)

USS GALAXY SECURITY OFFICES

Whistling jaunty little tune to herself, young Allison stepped over

the rubble laying in the doorway and into what was left of the Deck 39

Security Offices.

"Morning Everybody." she smiled cheerfully making her way around a

collapsed beam on the way to her desk.

"Looks like yall had a heck of a party in here.....Zowie what a mess."

Settling her cute little self behind her desk, Alli took a deep breath

of air and blew a thick layer of dust off her workspace.

Lieutenant T'lan, the stoic Vulcan Security officer watched the

youngster with well concealed disaproval. Clean up operations from

recent battle damage had barely begun, casualties among Security

personnel had been high.....and here was this girl........sitting at

her desk arranging the pencils in her little flower covered pencil

holder as if nothing happened.

"Crewman Jimsdottir....." T'lan began only to be silenced by an upheld

finger as Allison answered a comm light.

"Galaxy Security Office this is Allison speaking how can I

help.......oh hey girlfriend whats up?" T'lan glared at the

interruption.

Alli reclined back in her squeaky chair and examined a purple

fingernail critically. "Naw girl, im not doing anything........no I

just got back in the office, and like you should totally see the

place.....I mean kaboom!.....so what are we doing for lunch?....."

"Ahem." T'lan finally resorted to clearing her throat to catch Alli's

attention.

Alli gave the Vulcan a bored look. "....uh yeah....hey girl, like I

gotta go..boss lady is watching....see-ya later" <click> "Yah? Sup?"

"Crewman, " T'lan began enunciating her words carefully. "In the

recent battle with the Hydrans, I failed to note your presence at your

assigned battle station."

"Duh." Allison gave T'lan a stupid look and gestured towards a large

pile of rubble against the far wall. "Like my Battle Station is

buried under two tons of crud. If I'd been there I'd been totally

squished."

"Granted," The Vulcan allowed, not able to argue with that simple

logic, "The fact remains however that you failed to appear in the

first place and....."

"Gotcha govered there Lieutenenat...." Allison interrupted, digging

into her handbag and producing a pink scrap of paper which she waved

in front of T'lan's face. "I totally have a work excuse."

T'lan scanned the crumpled piece of paper quickly raising an eyebrow

in amazement when she reached the signature at the bottom. "A work

excuse...signed by Commander Corgan himself?"

"Yah..." Alli bobbed her head happily, "I totally got him to sign it

before the first shot was even fired."

"Crewman......not to disparage our superior officers attention to

detail, but did the Commander realize what he was signing at the time?"

"Dunno..." Allison shrugged, "I mean it might have been mixed in with

a bunch of other things he had to sign at the time, but......Im sure

he like read it first y'know."

The Vulcan sighed and quelled the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose

against the oncoming headache. "No doubt."

"I mean like I cant watch him sign everything right? I mean I'm like

the secretary right? He's the big boss. I mean its not like he's

know for making lunk-headed desicions or anything like dating blue-

skinned hussys or anything when there are more important gals around

to pay attention to?" Alli bit her lip, wondering if she should have

added that last part.

"The fact remains crewman that the ship was at Red-Alert and......."

"Hel-lo! Work excuse!" Alli waved the pink paper around for

emphasis. "Besides....my battle station went all ka-blooie.....you

wouldnt prefer me squished or anything right?"

Logic it seemed was a two edged sword and T'lan was hard put to argue

in favor of a position that would have resulted in the loss of young

Allion's life........"So where exactly were you during the...."

"Deck Seven service tunnel 12." Alli interrupted for the third time.

"A Jeffries tube?"

"Yah.....got me a little stash of popcorn and Ding-Dongs.....threw

down a few pillows...it was cozy.....ish."

T'lan examined the young girl carefully. "You spent the entire

battle......both battles holed up in a Jeffries tube....with

chocolate?"

"Pillows ...popcorn....Yah."

"Crewman.....If you were going to avoid duty, why didnt you stay in

your quarters."

"Ok first of all....didn't avoid duty....Work excuse right?" again

waving the pink slip, "Second of all. My quarters totally got spaced

during the fight. No way I was gonna stay there."

"Your quarters had a hull breach?"

"Yah....well more like my quarters and twenty more nearby. My

roomate was lucky she was on duty at the time....still she lost her

favorite pile of rocks."

"Rocks......" T'lan fought to recover the thread of this

conversation." And did you ....lose any of your possesions?"

"Aw heck no." Alli grinned. " I had moved most of it all down to the

lockers on Deck12 before then....had my guitar with me in the jeffries

tube though....had to pass the time working on my fingering....theres

this wicked variation of a B minor chord that......."

"You spent the entire battle holed up in a jeffries tube?"

"Deck 7 tube 12."

"Why this tube in partcular? "

"It didnt get damaged in the fight......safe I guess."

T'lan paused to add all of this information up. Fortunately Vulcans

are good at math.

"You requested time off from work.......Before the battle?"

"Yah....he signed it and everything....see......"

"Indeed, " T'lan took rare pleasure in interrupting the motor mouthed

teenager, "Your Battle Station was destroyed during the battle."

"Duh......its right over there......and some of it is over

here......theres a bit of it on the wall...."

"You moved out of your quarters Before the battle."

"Uh...yeah." Allison was begining to sense a trap.

"You moved all of your possesions to safe keeping before the battle?"

"Except my guitar and...."

"...and Ding Dongs yes I remember crewman...You took those with you.

Your quarters were destroyed during the battle?"

"Well I suppose there are some pieces left orbiting Romulus......"

"You chose to hide in Jeffries Tube 12 on Deck 7 for several

days...During the battle...and it suffered no damage.....never took a

hit in fact?"

Allison remained silent, frowning at the Vulcan.

T'lan took a deep breath considering her options........"Crewman

Jimsdottir?"

Alli looked up not bothering to correct the improper use of her

name. "Yes?"

"Welcome back to Security...have a prosperous day Crewman."

Alli smiled relived, "Zarky! You betcha lady."

Deep in thought T'lan turned back to her own station and began

composing a report.................

"Unrequited"

Redshirt NPCs

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

He was dead. No one cared. He was just an ensign. Just a redshirt. He was shot off into space like the others. A mass funeral. Nothing special.

He came from a family of farmers and he dreamed of the stars. He was called "Space Case" by his family. It was a loving tease, and they weren't too terribly surprised he was accepted into the Academy.

They were terribly and tragically surprised to know he had died on his first assignment.

Only a few people stood grieving his loss personally. One was in great pain.

Francis, or Frank as his friends called him, lay floating in space.

Three young ensigns stared out the portal remembering him. They had all stayed on the station while waiting on shuttles to take them to the USS Galaxy. The excitement of their first assignment bonded them. They pretty much became a tight little circle since then. Typically, if one attended an optional function or party, the others were there as well.

Francis had particular interest in a young Betazoid named Jiansha. He found himself drowned in her dark eyes during one late night conversation.

He was sure his room mate would pound him with a pillow for coming in. Zooky was wakened by a little swish. He sure did sleep light.

Jiansha's bunkmake, Juil, a female Vulcan was sound asleep as Jian laughed, "Hey, Frank!" She waved her hands and poked him as he shook his head. "You need to go to bed?"

"Uh..." After a moment and a gulp, "I'd rather you join me."

Jian had blinked, "I hardly believe that'd be appropriate."

Frank chuckled nervously, "Well, no. Not now, but..." He ran his hand through his hair as he admitted, "I have this huge crush on you." Neither slept that night and spent almost every free moment since then.

Here they all stood, save Frank, again on a station looking out at the stars. "So, we're staying on the crazy boat." Zooky sighed. "I think we fit in fine."

Juil raised an eyebrow in typical Vulcan fashion as she saw the ring on Jian's finger. "Highly illogical."

Jian knew what she meant. She had been lectured by Juil several times. About a month ago, Frank proposed to her. "I just can't let it go yet, ok?"

"Rag Doll"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister, JAG
Rear Admiral David Rameirez - NPC - Stuart

Location: Fay's Office

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

The newly applied lipstick finally cemented in place as Faylin pursed her lips. She was finished with IS. Just done. They contacted her yet again concerning another assassination for yet another Ambassador.

She was in the proper spot, yet part of her didn't want to. More than part. All of her was done with the sneaky around. Faylin wanted to become a reputable Starfleet Officer. That was an oxymoron if she ever heard one. Smirking, she took a sip of her spring water. Well, now was a good a time as ever. Opening a secure channel, she patiently waited until his clean shaven face popped up on the monitor.

He was an attractive man, he had to be at least that if Faylin would consider sleeping with him. Which, she had. That had to stop too.

There was something about this woman that just made her swallow men whole and spit their bones out. The nickname of 'Black Widow' was totally appropriate. Tilting her head to the left side, then right, she sighed. "Admiral. We need to talk....."

"Nice of you to call, McAlister," She was late with her regular checkin and he had been worried that his young protege might have been bested. An abhorrent thought but one that had crossed his thoughts several times in the last few days. "We have another assignment for..."

"I want out." Her tone was not forced, yet dark and drove home the point that she indeed, wanted free of her eternal contract.

She wasn't kidding. Something in her expression gave that away. She really wanted out. Such a naive notion for one so experienced. "No one leaves the Sanctum. They don't allow it. You know that McAlister!"

McAlister rolled her eyes in their sockets out of frustration. "Yes, I've heard that line several times before. And, yes, I am well aware of the vastness and integration the Sanctum has within Starfleet and other governments. I'm not about to get bullied into staying in my position. I've grown tired of it."

"What can we... I... do to make you change your mind?" David asked.

"Nothing." Leaning back in her chair, she brought the cigar out of the top desk drawer, clipped the end of it, lit it and puffed. If she could, she'd blow the damn smoke right in his face to emphasize her point. Drawing the Cuban back, she smiled. God, it was good. Her one naughtiness she permitted herself every now and then was a good Cuban cigar. Yeah, it stunk up the office to high heaven....but, they would have to get over it. Her assistant stuck his head in the door, grinning sheepishly, and waved at the smell. Obviously, his new relationship with his man was going well. Smirking, she pointed 'out'

at him and he ran away as the ferret he was.

David thought about it for a moment. He didn't want to lose her, and despite her abilities, he was sure that even she might not be able to evade the Sanctum for long. "How about overall command of the assassination teams? I know you've been wanting that for ages, and well, Markham has been slack in his duties lately."

Drawing on the smoke yet again, she actually looked like she was thinking about it. Wetting her lips, she blinked and responded in a firm tone. "Markham has been lack in his abilities. Damn it Mark....do you think I was born yesterday? He flubbed up and Team B took him out last week. Give me a fucking break already and give me some credit." Her eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously.

"So do you want the job or not?" Of course he knew that he had been taken out. He had ordered it himself. Not that it mattered for this conversation

"You know what I have.....one flick of the information to the right person on this ship and IS is history." Her air of superiority was superb. Faylin's pony tail swayed lightly as she tilted her head upwards in defiance. "I'm done."

"The others are not going to like this." He knew the drill. As soon as the conversation ended, he'd contact the others and they'd agree that she was to be terminated. It was standard process, and he knew that she knew it

"Threats. David. Just meaningless threats. I'm the best you've got.

Admit it."

"Yes, you are the best, McAlister. You never let us forget it." He smiled ruefully.

"I've been with this agency since I was fifteen.....actually, before that. Ever heard of retirement?" Faylin paused. "I know what your definition of retirement is......"

"And you know we can't just give you free reign to leave. You're too engrained with the Sanctum for them to allow that."

Snuffing out the cigar, she rubber her forehead with her index finger.

"David. Please. I just want and need out."

David sighed. "You've met a new man, haven't you? Just like that other guy, the Intel one that you were seeing. That's why you want out. Isn't it?"

"No, it's not a man.....good god. You really have no faith in me, do you?"

"For not having the guts to see this through to its natural conclusion, you're damn right I have no faith in you."

"I took out one of our own! T'Rei....care to explain that one?

Markham wasn't the only one you've ordered lately. Why did you order the kill on my daughter?" McAlister slammed her balled fists on her table, causing padds, the crystal dragon, and empty coffee mugs to jump. "MY DAUGHTER DAVID!!!! YOUR DAMN DAUGHTER!"

Closing her eyes, then opening them to reveal tears, she let him know the truth. Her voice barely above a whisper. "You ordered the hit on your own daughter David. How's that make you feel now? Still feel like a big shot? DO YOU? You ordered the killing of a two year old child.

Your such an evil man."

"I never believed that I was her father anyway. Not with the reputation you had back then, and probably still do." He paused for a moment, trying to ascertain what she was feeling at that very moment. But as always, she was a closed book to him. "You withheld the information we required. The chip that your parents had. There was more information and you didn't provide it. They demanded retribution.

It had to be done. And so the decision was made. I have to live with that and you have to live, well actually, if you continue on this course of action, you'll force my hand."

"Bullshit! I don't have that chip. The one I gave you was the only one from the necklace." The realization hit her that she was the true cause behind her daughter's death. The color drained from her face, being in IS had cost her too much now. Her adoptive parents, her daughter, the others. It wasn't worth it.

"They know you withheld the information. And this defiance is the last straw. They will come for you, so make your peace with God and your friends cause your life is now forfeit." A beaming smile crossed his face. "It's been nice knowing you, McAlister."

A slight smile crossed her lips, her brown eyes shining from moisture.

"I'll take my own life before I give you the satisfaction of killing me Admiral. McAlister out."

David sat back as the screen turned black. That hadn't worked out how he would have wanted, but it had revealed one crucial piece of information. She had known the chip was worthless. Her eyes had told him. She had slipped up and he had caught it. She had the ship, the real chip. Tapping several commands into the console, he waited for the screen to flicker to life as a young man appeared on the screen. Licking his lips with glee he spoke, "We have a new assignment for you..."

Her eyes wondered around her office, and finally fell on the crystal dragon. With her hands quivering, Faylin's mind attempted to calm her ragged breathing. The end was here, she had to admit it. Reaching over, she grabbed the dragon by it's neck. All frustration of her conversation pulsed to her hand as her palm wrapped around the figure closed tighter and tighter. Unaware of any feeling as the shard of dragon fang entered her palm to a deep level, she brought the dragon back behind her head. The quiet splatters of the blood as it dripped freely onto her desk was the only sound, until the sharp sound of the dragon hitting the wall and shattering was heard.

"The Mustached Man's Visit"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

It was a stormy afternoon when the mustached man strolled into the seaside hospital. Night descended early so close to ch'Rihan's north pole, and the pale artificial lights took the sun's place in illuminating the mustached man's way. A group of elderly Romulan nurses stepped out of his way, chattering quietly. The sight of a Human, it seemed, no longer attracted so much attention on ch'Rihan anymore.

He found who he looked for in a room on the third floor. The room was divide by acoustic curtains, so the patients could get some minimal privacy. A hushed moan somehow slipped through one of the shrouds. t'Noir was occupying the second bed to the left.

The mustached man pulled the curtain and stepped next to the bed. The curtain silently sled back toward him.

t'Noir's healthy eye landed on him, without flaring with recognition. The Romulan was alive, but half of his face were burnt, and both of his arms were held inside a pair of matching devices. When the first battle began and Ki Baratan was invaded, the smuggler took his atmospheric shuttle and fled as far from the center of attention as possible.

The fusion beam which hit it just prior to landing proved that it wasn't far enough.

"Joord." He finally recognized the mustached man.

The man nodded, and brought a PADD close to t'Noir's eye. The PADD displayed a medical device and its specifications. Every several seconds, the device faded out and was replaced by another. Medical Supplies.

"What are you doing here?" t'Noir asked. His voice came out raspy, left side of his mouth barely moving because of the burns "I thought--"

"Space travel is possible nowadays." Joord said. It was only the second time that t'Noir saw him in the flesh, and the first time at ch'Rihan. It was no wonder that Joord's presence came as a surprise. "Do you want the hospital to receive these supplies?"

"I-- yes." Some of the items on display were dermal and limb regenerators. t'Noir lost both of his hands when his shuttle erupted in searing flamed.

"Then tell me all you know about Andrus."

"Andrus?"

"This man gave my Starfleet contact some really bad time. I do not appreciate people harassing my friends."

"Your sentiments are to be admired, but I'm not sure..."

Joord returned the PADD to his bag.

"Ah, that man." t'Noir 'recalled'. "Yes. We were introduced by a common acquaintance which is dead now - his firm's building evaporated by planetary bombing. Your contact at Starfleet must've told you already that he helped smuggle people off planet. Probably saved their lives."

"Anything else?"

"No."

The man patted his mustache. "That won't quite cut it. You said nothing new."

"Joord, that's all I know. And I would never say so much about a contact, if not for..."

"Yes yes. Let's make a deal."

The mustached man took another hand-held computer from his bag, and connected it to the wall console. It took the Romulan stationary computer several seconds to interface with the Orion-made device. The device also carried biometric recognition sensors.

"I will see to it that Starfleet will provide this hospital with all the state of the art medical equipment you just saw, in exchange fro three things: Your shares in the Reremeni and Dershaya-Oolaq trade routes, and your part of the Igenschloss factory on Utrecht III."

"That's outrageous." t'Noir twitched. It was a bad idea to raise his voice, as his throat began to burn soon after. "The imperial government will provide us with aid soon, or Starfleet."

"The imperial government doesn't care about this piece of frozen shit excuse for an island on the fringe of the world. The people in Ki Baratan will return to normal life long before you see any aid from the Empress. And Starfleet... Starfleet is in my pocket."

t'Noir shifted beneath the blanket. Eventually, he nodded, and the mustached man brought the biometric sensor close to the smuggler's face. t'Noir mumbled his agreement to the one-sided transaction, and allowed the device to scan his retina and procur a tiny sample.

"Now you'll make your next demand." The Romulan said bitterly. "Know that I will refuse it, no matter how small."

"We're done here, t'Noir. Get well." Joord said. As he turned around to leave, his hand 'accidently' brushed against a bag full of fluids that rested on the bedside stand. The hidden hypospray released its stealthy chemical agent, that will ensure that t'Noir won't have a clear recollection of the meeting or anything else that happened in, say, the last four months.

* * *

The armed security detail waited at the entrance corridor, some of them med shivering in the cold, others holding their weapons tightly. They began to consider following the officer themselves when he returned.

"All is clear." Saul Bental said. He was wearing civilian cloths, but there was no sign for mustache on his upper lip. "No sign of Hydrans."

Soon after the relief efforts began, Starfleet teams began to run into Hydran forces who were left behind. The Hydrans quickly adopted a recurring tactic - they hid in groups of four and five in the most disaster-stricken areas, using sensor jammers to hide their bio-signature, and did hit-and-runs on relief teams. As a result, each relief effort was preceded or escorted by a security or marine team sweeping for hidden dangers. Saul volunteered to lead a sweep team attached to the relief center at Chibi island.

The enlisted security men found it quite strange that their officer decided to go into the hospital alone, but heck - he had two pips and an officer's certification, he could go ahead and knock himself out as much as they cared. And it seemed that this specific officer knew what he was doing.

"Bental to sh'Noia." Saul said as he tapped his badge. "The hospital is clear. Begin transferring suppies at your leisure."

Saul watched the crated materialize. The Romulan medical stuff began to orderly carry the crates away, unaware that they were yet another step in his agenda.

Ensign Artim Shivar - Biologist

"Mad World"

<<Holodeck - Shivar Estate Program>>

Ping!

Artim smiled slightly as the round from the old slug rifle found its mark, in this case a small steel disc set up in the holographic representation of his childhood garden. The target was some distance away, perhaps 50 meters which was an impressive shot with this particular rifle. He found shooting this old gun strangely thereputic, especially here, but not for the usual reasons. Shooting was a release of aggression for alot of people, but it wasn't for Artim, at least not this gun. This gun had a special significance.

It saw him through the toughest times

It had kept him safe.

It had kept him alive.

Artim rested the rifle against a nearby pine tree and settled down in the grass next to it. Even though it was 450 years old he'd managed to keep the weapon in working order, not a small task considering how it was used. The gun, a woodstocked .27 caliber rifle had been a gift from his father. His real father. For Artim it was the only real memory of the few people he really cared for in his life. One of the many he'd lost. At least he was there when his father was killed...he had to do the act himself.

With this gun.

For some reason Valera's death had made him think about the gun, about his father, and about all that he had to go through in the real time and place that was represented around him now. Some of the things that had happened here would be the most significant thing to happen in some people's life, but it was only another day for him. Only a few things stood out for him anymore

Killing his father

Leaving this world

Coming back 50 years later to remember what had happened here

Losing her.

Picking up some pieces of bark Artim started absentmindedly snapping them in half as he took in a deep breath. The odor of the pines filled his nostrils and for a moment the tension in his body seemed to seep out leaving him relaxed. But only for a moment. Such moments had been few and far between the last couple days. Too much to think about. He hadn't been sleeping well, his mind either racing with regret or nightmares keeping him from resting. He kept seeing Valera crying out to him with her last breath as she lay dying, not knowing where he was. Perhaps he should talk to someone about this, but who? There really wasn't anyone he trusted aside from the shrinks and somehow the shrinks were the last people he wanted to talk about this to. He had to see Brian soon anyway and being Betazoid he'd probably bring it up anyway. Wouldn't be so bad that way he figured. Then again he could always get around it.

There was the gun.

The mere firing of that neuron, the one that would consider the "easy way out" caused him to crush the piece of bark in his hand into powder and fling it across the grass. He'd been through a hell of alot worse then this and never even considered what just flashed into his mind. Never, even when he was being tortured near daily did he even fathom taking his own life. Somehow this gun would be a fitting instrument to end his life but squeezing the trigger...never. No, he had to get this out of his mind. And so he took another deep breath.

And another.

And another.

"A Guardian Angel With Blackened Wings"

Principle Characters
Valentina "Tina" Dmitrieva Kyznetsova
Previously known as Ensign Eve

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

=Quarters of Ens Eve=

After the counselor departed, Tina settled down on the bed, her mind filled with thoughts, many on the past she could remember, some pondering what had happened in the recent history, and what she would do in the future. She didn't know anything of what went on for a normal day, how anything worked. And to top it all off, she couldn't read any of the script she found scattered about on the various colored lights scattered throughout what apparently was where she lived on this... star ship. Eventually she drifted off into sleep.

Her dreams were pleasant at first, but gradually shifted towards something sinister and dark. The skies went dark, the streets turned to foreboding alleys, and the figures flitting about at the edges of her sight were pale and gaunt, mere shadows of their former selves. Making her way to where she knew the center of the city was, she paused at the edge of the shadows. In the center of a large clearing, one that hadn't been there before that Tina knew of was a man. He wasn't a pale reflection of life, no. He radiated Death, pure and unadulterated. He turned towards her, and just as she caught a look at his face-

Tina bolted up from her dream, the cry of terror cut short as reality asserted itself.

****

Outside Eve's Quarters

This was not an assignment that Victor as a Shift Supervisor (much less as Victor) should have been handling; anyone who knew him would have agreed. Unfortunately, with Security short-handed due to casualties and medical leave, and Angelienia still manning a fighter full-time, all shifts were so short of people that what Victor - or anyone else - thought about the issue no longer mattered. Someone had to be here, there was no one else available, so here he was.

As assignments went, it was simple: guard the door; contact Dr. Burton if the cabin's inhabitant wanted to leave (Victor was certain that whatever the reason, she was unlikely to want to hear from him); deny any and all visitors not approved by Dr. Burton; respond to distress on the part of the occupant and contact Dr. Burton. Victor had actually considered assigning Crewman Recruit Allison to the job, but had decided against it based on the Crewman Recruit's observed personality; she would have likely attempted to engage the occupant in conversation, and that was against the current orders.

The occupant, and the subject of the Security presence, wasn't an enemy, though. That made things more difficult. You could simply phaser the bad guys and most people would agree that it was easier than restraining them physically. Phasering a shipmate though, that tended to make people upset for some reason that Victor didn't understand well. Given the reactions he'd gotten in the past from actions like breaking someone's jaw on an LCARS panel or shoving a person's face through a internal cabin door, he would have thought that most of the crew would rather he just phasered people. Such, however, was not the case.

He was mulling that over, and had decided to ask Angelienia about it that evening over dinner, when a penetrating scream sounded from the other side of the door behind him. That made things easy; there was now no need to call someone that didn't want to talk to him anyway, since the scream triggered a different set of responses: Respond to the threat. Neutralize the threat. Then contact higher authorities.

He turned and keyed the door open.

****

Inside Eve's quarters

The hiss of the door opening drew Tina's attention as a man stepped in.

She could see a unique sparkle in his eyes, but that wasn't what rooted her in her spot. It was his face. Though not the same as what she had caught but a second's look at, she could feel him, and his presence was the same as the man in her dream. "You," she whispered. "You're Death."

She pulled the blanket around her as he approached. It was a reflexive action with no real protective value; the psychological aspect of feeling 'safe' was immeasurable. "Why are you here?"

Well, whatever else might be wrong with her, her vision seemed to be fine. "You screamed." Victor looked around the room. "Is there a threat?"

"Dreams," she said quietly. "You were in them."

Dreams? Victor looked at the distance from the door to where the girl lay on her bed, blanket clutched around her like a suit of armor. Yes, she was close enough, and asleep her defenses would be lower.... "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that this cabin had layout C-5, or I would have assigned someone else to watch the door."

"What do you mean?" Again, words she didn't fully comprehend. Still, she had prided herself in being a fast learner, once she had her head about her. Simply missing who knew how much time would disturb most anyone.

"It's too small a cabin," he explained. "If I'm at the door, there's no place for you to go where you won't be affected by my presence. That's why I was in your dream - you could feel me outside even though you were asleep."

"Oh." She looked at him curiously; now that she could see him properly he didn't feel as dreadful. Slipping out from under the covers revealed that she hadn't changed out of the uniform she'd been wearing since before this all had happened, now wrinkled and unkempt. "What's your name?" she asked as she approached him.

"Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff," he replied. She, after all, already knew *what* he was.

Gingerly she reached a hand out towards him, withdrawing it but a moment before she would have touched him. "Can I touch you?"

"Perhaps," Victor shrugged, "or perhaps not. Some can, but some can't.

Since you're already affected by my presence, it's likely that touching me will make it worse; that's the usual response. Is there some reason you want that to happen?"

She let her hand creep forward, letting her palm come to rest against his chest. As soon as contact was made, the chill faded from the room, replaced by a curious warmth. Closing her eyes, Tina listened to the comforting rhythm of the beat of his heart. Lifting her opening eyes to meet his gaze she smiled a small smile.

Victor looked down at her, head tilted to one side wolfishly. He would, he supposed, need to send a message to Dr. Burton letting her know that whoever it was the Ensign had become didn't seem to react to him the way most people did.

"Kind soul," she whispered, "warm heart. You aren't all bad," she finished, letting her hand fall to her side.

That had been... odd, he thought. "I am what I am. Good or bad doesn't enter into it."

Tina nodded, a curious look coming to her eyes. "Guardian Angel with blackened wings, He wields the Scythe of Death. And though he serves as Reapers Right hand, I know that he will not claim unneeded breath. His road is long and hardships abound, The Black of Night is where he reaps. The Demon Restrained, a raging hellhound Finding peace, take comfort in sleep."

A poem. There was a moment of silence as Victor tried to recall the last time someone had touched or encountered him and recited poetry. There had been a drunken Klingon back on DS9 who'd done it, but he'd been told later that it was actually some sort of death dirge sung by doomed warriors and not a real poem. It likely didn't count, then, making this the first time. "Most people don't recite poetry when they touch me," he offered, deciding that the girl didn't care about Klingon death-dirges.

"Of course, they're usually screaming or doing something else that would make it hard to understand even if they were."

She nodded thoughtfully, thinking on that and storing it away for future reference. "I'm Valentina Dmitrieva Kyznetsova, but you can call me Tina," she said.

He shook his head. "No, I can't. You only call family by their given names, much less a diminutive like that, and we're not family." He considered her for a moment, head tilted to the side wolfishly. "I can, however, call you Kyznetsova." He pronounced her name with a German lilt and twist to the vowels. "You should be back in bed." She moved back to the bed, a contented smile on her lips.

Victor watched her settle back onto the bed. "I'll have someone else take over the post at your door. You should sleep well for the rest of the night."

"Come back, please," she implored of him. "You make me feel safe."

Curiously enough, knowing he would not be outside soon left her less than content. It wasn't love, she know what that felt like, or at least thought she did. No, this was the sure knowledge that this man was more than capable of ensuring that she would remain safe. Without him outside, though she understood that he had to sleep himself, Tina felt more vulnerable than before.

"All right. But I can't not be what I am; and that means that I'll affect your dreams again. You understand that, correct?"

She nodded and smiled, settling down under the covers. Letting her eyes slide closed, she once more began to dream.

Victor watched her until her eyes closed and then silently departed the room, mentally composing the report he would need to file with Dr. Burton. He doubted that she would recite poetry when reading it.

While not pleasant, the quality of Tina's dreams was comforting and protective, and such colorings remained even after Krieghoff had departed.

"The Open Door"

Saul Bental
J. Andrus Suder

****

USS Galaxy

It would have been nice to claim that he had returned to Galaxy for Tae'ben, to be sure that the defecting teenager hadn't been blown to bits in battle, but the truth of the matter was that the ship he had smuggled away on had returned to Romulus and so here he was. Again.

"I'm never going to get out of this fucking solar system," Andrus Suder muttered and shelved another book.

"Don't give up just yet, there are plenty of outbound trash transports now that the battle is over."

Andy frowned slightly, then put on his game face. He didn't usually mind sparring with Saul, he just wished that he'd had the foresight to bring some alcohol first.

Saul Bental stood, arms folded, watching Andrus' work with mild interest. "Yes, I can definitely imagine you as a librarian. It's a turn to the better from your current occupation, 'trouble making'."

Andy grinned because he knew that it infuriated the Dutchman. "Like some other people I know, I also can function in two occupations. How is the smuggling business these days, Saul?"

"I wouldn't know - 'everything we do is legit.' ", He said, quoting his family's motto. "Although, rumor has it that smuggling Romulan teens is not as profitable as it used to be."

Andy raised an eyebrow. Tae'ben had already told him about his discussion with Saul, albeit reluctantly, so the Betazoid wasn't surprised. "I didn't realize it was ever profitable."

"Really? And still, it's done. At least, it WAS done before ch'Rihan became infested with Hydrans. Now, the planet it wide open. So anyone, even a librarian or a Romulan teen, wouldn't have much problem to get out."

Saul approached the EBooks shelf, scrutinizing it. At this distance, he assumed, Andrus would probably start to feel that he was carrying on him the best telepathic waves jammer the shipboard intelligence gadgets directory had to offer. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"Unless, of course, they're stuck on a Starfleet vessel. But then again, anyone who manages to get ON a Starfleet vessel which such ease, must be doing something right. So my conclusion is, that people like that probably DO deal with profitable trades. Otherwise, why expend so much energy?"

And now for the punchline, Saul thought.

"Therefore, Mr. Andrus, I want in."

He definitely wished he'd kept that bottle of Andorian whiskey that 8-ball had brought the other night. "Want in?"

"Strange echo in this room." Saul grinned. "Whatever it is you have in mind, I want in. You had it going pretty well until the Hydrans decided ch'Rihan would make a nice vacation resort. The very fact that you're here and not planetside or in the brig proves that. Right now, you're sinking. You haven't lost your leverage - you're still here - but as you said, all you want is to get the crap out of here. You need someone to work with you, and since we're already 'acquainted', I'm the natural choice."

Andy gave a lopsided grin. "Despite the criminal mastermind you seem to think I am, Saul, I really have no plans except to get away from this planet. If you'd have spent as much time as I have with the Romulans, you'd want the same."

And there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd ever, willingly, work with Saul, Andy decided. Who knew what the Intelligence officer would do with his rotting corpse?

"Don't flatter yourself." Came the response. "And if you wanted to get away from the planet, you'd choose a route other than the Galaxy. The Romulan regime is in shambles, and with all the relief efforts that are bound to take place, even a half-wit could get out. But you're back here. And not for our young pointy-eared friend, I suspect."

"Maybe I just want to irritate you."

"Wasting all that energy just to irritate a stranger? A petty, especially since you're not too successful."

Andy's face hardened. He didn't have anything to explain and he certainly didn't have to explain it to Saul. "It doesn't matter why I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere for awhile. Deal with it."

Oh, Saul thought, I'm going to deal with it alright. Verbally, he said, "That's what I'm trying to do, by giving you a ladder to climb down the tree you're perched in. So I'm going to make my offer one last time, and after that the hoverball's in your court."

The Betazoid smiled pleasantly. "If you're not here for a book, Sir, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"I bet you can't. That's what happens when they let civilians in without the minimal training program." Saul shook his head in disdain.

"I'll have to talk with 8-Ball. She's a personal friend of mine. And I'm extremely protective when it comes to friends, or crewmates."

"Talk to her all you want, Joord," Andrus snapped. For some reason, the minimal training quip hit just the right nerve. He knew how to work in a library, damn it. "8 likes me."

"Of course she does. You're a male... I guess." Saul chuckled. "Keep up the good work, these books seems extremely in order. And my door is always open WHEN you change your mind."

"Trust me. I won't."

off: takes place after The Open Door

"A Perfect Match "

J. Andrus Suder
Madden Jayce

****

USS Galaxy
Library

He hadn't been lying when he'd told the Captain that he was good at history. It had been his favorite subject in school - when he had attended school - and he'd even been a decent history teacher for a long con on Bajor. So Andrus hadn't minded at all when M'Kantu had placed him in the ship's library.

He had free time to read all the books he liked, plot for when he finally got free of Galaxy, and his boss had even slipped him alcohol a few times to ease the pain of what she called the "fucking mind-numbing silence" all around him.

Andy actually liked the silence. Which was why *she* was annoying him so much.

"Ma'am," He told her again with a sigh. "You need to use your quiet voice."

"*Madden,*" she said. "I can see how they would sound similar, but one's my name and the other is a euphemistic, age qualifying, formal address. Just call me Madden." She sighed softly, looking around the room as she brushed back bangs. "I'm the only one in here. I can't be too disruptive. I can't sleep, you see, but my friends are either doing exactly that or they're on shift. Sometimes, you just need someone to talk to? Someone who's not a fraking counselor who sits there and nods and keeps that tight little smile plastered to his face... the one that says, 'Sweet Universe, how the flipping hell did I get stuck listening to this crazy person and her ridiculous problems?'" She shook her head and looked back to Andy Suder. She only knew that was his name by the little plaque on the desk. "Not unlike how you're looking at me now. Fine. I'll leave you be. I just came in for Spenser's 'Faerie Queen' anyway; my terminal's not downloading."

Andy bit back an urge to sigh again. She was right after all. There was no one else around and he wasn't his seventy-nine year old grandmother. He had just been enjoying the quiet. It was so ... not full of Saul and his veiled threats.

Veiled my ass, Andy snorted to himself.

"I'll get that for you, Madden." Andy told her. "But you're going to have to take yourself off of warp speed or I'm going to need a cup of espresso to keep up."

"Sorry," she said, "I forget how fast I speak. I grew up with telepathic dialogue, verbal speech is still strangely foreign, despite the... length of time." She smiled. "Were you down on Romulus?"

"For some of it."

"Ahh... you know, I hate to say this, but this was the... I hate to use the word best, but it was definitely the most... positive? battle experience I've ever had. I tried to explain it to my counselor. But she wouldn't have it, and Brian's been so busy. I feel horrible thinking it, but usually when I'm involved in conflict, one of three things happens to me: my ship is destroyed, I'm taken prisoner, or I'm almost killed. Or all of the above." Her nose wrinkled, her expression trying to keep an upbeat sense of humor though her eyes betrayed the pain and deep reality of these words. "I take it you're not part of Starfleet?"

Andrus could feel Madden's emotions but chose not to comment. He wasn't this woman's counselor and wasn't sure if she'd be offended if he mentioned it. He somehow got the impression that Madden was the type of woman that you didn't want offended. "The short version is that I hitched a ride and ended up a librarian."

A pause. "You're a con man."

He was startled and then smiled. "That's one way of putting it."

"Sorry, I'm psi-rated a P11. It's almost impossible for me not to pry. Anyway, I don't really see any other way of saying it. That's fascinating. Though, you have a bit of an advantage, don't you? Being Betazoid?"

"Everyone has some kind of advantage or other," Andy said with a shrug. Strange that he didn't pick up on her telepathy; he was usually better about that kind of thing. "It be a shame to put such a skill to waste."

"Fair enough," Madden agreed. "Must be invigorating. Though. A Starfleet vessel isn't exactly an ideal place for something like that.

Trying to get somewhere or more opportunity, or do you think you'll take it easy here for a little while?"

Andy frowned. He didn't really know what his next step was. Tekkie's debt was paid off and that just left one other. But he really would like a vacation. But try fucking telling that to Bental and his 'you are merely space-scum on my shoe' mentality.

Fortunately, Madden let him off the hook by changing the direction of the conversation.

"You want to get a drink sometime?"

Andy looked apologetic. "I'd like that actually. But you should know that I'm not, well, not ..."

Madden laughed. "Right. I figured as much -- and without the telepathy, by the way. If I like a guy, usually he is. No, I actually have a friend you might be perfect for."

Andrus rolled his eyes. Figured. Tell a woman that you were gay and she automatically had the perfect person for you.

"Call it... women's intuition. I hate set ups. So I understand where you're coming from? But he's a great guy. And he's a good friend.

So... for however long you're here, it might be nice. Of course. It's altogether possible you'll clash entirely and it'll encourage a different path."

"I'll think about it," Andy said, feeling profoundly unenthusiastic.

Then he perked up. "You mentioned a drink?"

"I did indeed," Madden replied. "Don't worry. Brian won't like the idea either. But. I think you'll hit it off. I'm an excellent judge of character-- for everyone else, anyway."

Andy sighed. It looked like he wasn't going to get out of this anytime soon. "All right, then. But I'll be very cranky if you're wrong."

"Then it's a date. Holodeck two tonight, 21 hundred? I'll bring the alcohol. Dress nicely."

He made a noise that was suspiciously like a harrumph.

"Whatever....."

Crewman Allison
Ensign Rick Stadler (npc)
Ensign Brenda Newcomb (npc)
Midshipman Skedd (npc)

USS GALAXY
DECK 10 CAFFETERIA

"....and I was like 'whatever'...... and he was like.......'no way'....and I was like....'way dude'....and he was like....'as if'....and I'm like..'whatever.'........and he's like 'whatever' .........and Im like 'whatever'........."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but...uh....was there a point to this story?"

Allison gave a look of incredulous shock to the man standing behind her in the lunch line.....he DARE he interrupt...."What-Ever." she rotorted with a roll of her eyes and spun around to face front again.

Just as well....the line was getting close to the counter.

In the 24th century, meals were ,by in large served via food replicators in private crew quarters, but for those so inclined the USS Galaxy had huge caffeteria facilities where crewmen and passengers alike could select their favorite naturally cooked meals and dine in the company of others.

The idea was that you could select from a variety of dishes from across the reaches of known space, freshly prepared by hand and untouched by the artificial-ness of replication.

At least that was the theory........

"What'll it be kid?" grated the large wart-faced woman behind the counter as she flicked off a bit of ash from her cigarette.

Alli rolld her pink-glitter covered eyes , "First of all......not a kid," she began.

"Fine fine whatever," the lunch-lady took a long drag, the smoldering cig held loosely between her clear plastic gloves, "What'll it be?"

"Oh.....uh..." Alli bobbed her head down to consider the options before her, "....uh ....what're my choices?"

"Meat-mash....vegetable-mash.....bean-mash....or macaroni surprise." the big woman rattled off the littany.

"Uh....er....Whats in the macaroni?"

A shrug, "Dunno.....Surprise."

"Right-o" Alli made a face, "I'll stick with the veggies....go easy on the mash."

"Whatever." The lady lifted a large gloppy spoon, and with a mighty SPLUT!!!..... deposited Alli's lunch on her tray. "Bon Appetit kid."

"Not a kid." Alli muttered almost to herself as she examined the mush- shaped pile of goo that was supposed to represent 'lunch'

~~~Looks a little like my roomate.~~~ she mused thinking of her Horta friend.

~~~Oh well ....to boldy go.....~~~ She picked up her tray and made her way in search of a table.

The Deck 8 Caffeteria was about half full at the moment, a mixture of off-duty crewmen sitting at long bench-style dining tables......some brightly dressed civilians shooting the breeze.... and a few armored Marines huddled in a corner grabbing a quick bite before heading off for a training exercise.

Picking a table at random Alli plopped her tray down next to a group of three crewmen hunched over their respective meals.

"Yo." she said, utilizing the universal greeting.

Two humans (one male one female) and a solitary male Vulcan looked up.

"Uh...hey," the male human replied, looking her up and down quickly

and deciding he liked what he saw..."Grab a piece of bench."

Smiling, Alli settled herself daintily onto the seat.

"Rick Stadler....Brenda Newcomb....and Skedd" the male pointed to

himself and his companions each in turn.

The Vulcan inclined his head in greeting while the female, Brenda,

frowned at the intruder. She had been enjoying her status as the

cutest person at the table, and sized up her competition unhappily.

"Name's Allison......sup?" Alli broke the little plastic bag that

contained her silverware and began sorting them out.

"Pleased to meet you Allison," Rick grinned a little too eagerly for

Brenda's tastes, "We were actually engaged in a scientific discusin

regarding the possible origins of our lunch.......so far the current

theory is that it fell out of a Targ's nose."

"Gross....but I see your point." Alli gingerly prodded the Veggie-mash

with a fork. There seemed to be a thin gelatinlike skin surrounding it

which she could not decide was a good sign or not.

"Actually, my companion is innacurate in his analysis," Skedd the

Vulcan began formally, "There is a low probability that the protein-

carbohydrate complex supplement emanated from the nasal cavity of a

Klingon quadroped."

Silence as the three humans looked at him expectacntly.

Skedd paused then contiuned slowly, "In fact there is a 97.2% chance

that its origin lays in coming from .......A Mugato's Ear Wax."

Alli raised two disgusted eyebrows while Rick and Brenda collapsed

into giggles. "Good try Skedd.....thats definately gross, but next

time try it without the statistics."

"Indeed I shall endeavor to do so." the Vulcan nodded sagely.

"Let me guess," Allison asked, "You're teaching potty-humor to a

Vulcan?"

"Sorta," Rick snorted and poked at his lunch, "Skedd here's a

Sociologist of sorts studying human behavior, conversations, dress

codes and such.......sorta a Senior Class Project right?"

"Senior Project?"

"Indeed," the Vulcan nodded, "Midshipman Skedd at your

service.....this is my Student cruise from the Academy." he explained.

"Ah....thrills."

"Quite so." Skedd consulted a PADD where he had been taking notes on

his conversation, "The crews reaction to recent service in such close

proximity to Romulans has been illuminating in my studies of stress

and racial prejudices. A trove of emotional displays that may

otherwise have proven hidden."

Alli frowned, "An emotionless Vulcan......studying emotions? Sounds

like smething from a bad Sci- fi plot."

Rick chuckled while Brenda continued her icy stare. "What about

you...Allison is it?" the lady asked, "Arent you a little young to

have graduated from the Academy?"

Noting the tone of voice used, Alli frowned at the other woman.

Allisons' enlisted pins were easy for all to see so Brenda was merely

underscoring the fact she was of lower rank.

"Yes--Bren-DA, "Alli replied emphasizing the last syllable, "I am too

young to have gone to the Academy Bren-DA. I didnt...like go to the

Academy BrenDA....I enlisted 3 months ago Bren-DA.....and here I am."

Alli stabbed a plastic fork into her Veggie mash.

"A crewman Recruit.....fascinating." Skedd mused.

"Whats fascinating about a crummy recruit?" Brenda retorted, "They're

a dime a dozen."

Alli made a face at her

"Indeed," Skedd explained, "Its the motivation behind enlistment that

is fascinating." He leaned forward to explain. "In Starfleet, the

rewards and oppurtuities invariably go to those of officer rank.

Whether you join for glory, or for scientific curiosity, the officer

track offers the best possibilities for satisfaction in those roles."

"For example," he said, "Amongst Vulcans, it is almost unheard of for

one to merely enlist.....logic dicates one choose the Academy route

and rise to one's best potential."

"Like...I dont think you're helping me here Skeddy," Alli frowned.

"Not so," the Vulcn continued, "Amongst humans however there is a

strong urge to enlist....Indeed humans make up the vast majority of

all enlisted personnel in Star Fleet."

"So....that means alot of us are too stupid for the Academy?"

"Incorrect. Humans also tend to be the highest ranked at the Academy

as well. Logic would dictate a more mentally....ah....disciplined

race would tend to rise to the pinnacle, but humanity invariably grabs

the top spots."

"Such as......" Rick asked only half paying attention as he munched on

a soggy french fry.

"James Kirk," Skedd answered immediately, "Perhaps the foremost

example of humanity's ability to excel against all odds. More

recently you have Robert Price for exceptional command

abilities.....Our very own Commander Corgan still holds the Academy

sharp shooting record I beleive, and of course there was Rebecca von

Ernst."

Allison sniffed her meal suspiciously. "Who?"

"Ice Queen.....Or Ice Bitch depending on who your talking to." Brenda

answered. "Ask any of the old timers aboard, she was some uber-

tactical whiz, but I dont know if she qualified as human Skedd."

Allison eyes flared, while the Vulcan replied, "Actually human

emotions being my key area of study, I referenced Commander von

Ernst's psychological profile for a paper my Sophomore year.....it

made quite a fascinating...."

"So how does this apply to a mere crewman like me." Allison

interrupted grumpily, not even pretending to eat anymore.

Skedd considered the young blond. "It is fascinating for the reason

that humanity...across spectrum of ability and education....have this

amazing capacity to seek out the unknown.....to willingly place

themselves in danger just for the oppurtunity to go and see things

outside the realm of the ordinary."

The Vulcan sat back with a barely perceptable look of contentment on

his face. "It is a most intriguing trait."

Thrilling Skedd." Brenda didnt bother hiding her yawn. Alli was

developing a distinct dislike for the rude Ensign, and it was apparent

the feeling was mutual. "However I dont think those examples you

picked out are really such great role models."

"Explain."

"Well first of all, everybody knows Price was a peace-loving beatnik.

Corgan talks to the voices in his head, and Ernst....well was Ernst."

Skedd frowned. "Keeping the peace is widely regarded as one of

Starfleets primary missions. Besides Price was before your time, and

one can hardly go on mere rumor and innuendo."

"Besides, " Rick added, "Its not smart to go around bad mouthing

superior officers....."

Alli bobbed her head in agreement.

"Whatever." Brenda dismissed that. "Im not saying anything that isnt

common knowledge.....I can even voutch for your other two examples

having served with them....Commanders Corgan and von Ernst.....or can

we say Crazy and Crazier."

"Hey!" Alli protested.

"True story creampuff." the Ensign sneered, "Everybody knows 'Crazy

Corgan talks to himself.....and that little redheaded floozy of

his....well she was a trip. Thats probably why Corgan attracks such

loonies in his department like that Krieghoff guy."

"Oh and like your Department head is any better," Rick

countered. "The Vulcan Cue-Ball."

"Thats 8-Ball," Brenda frowned, "Hey at least she doesnt talk to

herself.....she may be drink a bit too much but......"

Skedd frowned. Amongst Vulcans, the Galaxies Science Head was not

regarded higly.

"Whatever," Brenda continued, "Rumor had it that old Ice bitch....and

everybody else....was banging your department chief Corgan......Thats

where the the craziness came from......That and every other floozy he

was banging at the same time............."

With a snarl of rage and a mighty SPLUT!!!, Allison's veggie mash flew

across the table and splattered itself across the womans smirking face!

Skedd the Vulcan raised an eyebrow and joted down a note on his

PADD. "Facinating......This will make an excellent addition to my

paper."

"Monologue"

Ensign Hoda H. Arles
Security Officer

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

Transport en route to DS5

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

Hoda sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes wide and fixated on the other passengers. "Can anyone explain this?" She asked, brandishing a PADD high in the air. Her voice cut masterfully through the silence that had threatened to dominate the transport.

A man beside her caught the PADD on the second go, having to chase down Hoda's waving hand. "It's your assignment to a ship, the USS Galaxy. See right here? You'll be meeting up with it at Deep Space 5.

This is your first posting?"

"I know that," Hoda grinned, taking the PADD back and continuing to wave it around. "But why all this mumbo jumbo. I've seen documents of fealty, land grants, papal bulls that would make your eyes water to read, but this borders on the ridiculous. Not even Aquinas can rival this!"

Blank stares answered her challenge, but Hoda unheedingly pressed on.

She'd discovered she liked talking. People didn't have to listen, just so long as they didn't make her shut up.

"And look at how they arrange their forms. "Middle name." What is that supposed to mean? Is that like a middle child, lost in the flux between your first name and your last? Do we have a primogenitor of names going on now? If you don't like your first name can you disinherit it and claim the middle as your rightful heir, and," she giggle at the joke she was about to make, "namesake? What if you have more than one middle name? Do you call them second, third, forth names? Why is there only one spot on the form for the middle name?

Some of the applications I've filled out only have space for the first letter of it. Again with primacy of the first born! Lunacy, that's what it is. How many times has the Bible shown us that the younger shall disinherit the older? Abraham embracing Isaac not Ishmael. Isaac blessing Jacob, not Esau. King David himself was a younger son!"

Hoda lept from her seat, unable to keep still now that she'd begun speaking. Her fingers snapped at her sides as she paced between the rows of seats. In her mid-twenties, of an average height for a Terran female, she didn't cut much of an imposing figure. Her build was average. Her face, hair, eyes, nose, ears - all average. She wore clothes of studious black and cheap material for traveling. The only adornment was a string of prayer beads that bounced at her hip with every step she took.

In fact, Hoda had little to commend herself to the eye other than her tongue, which prompted several of the passengers to watch in mute fascination as the young woman spun off one monologue after another, seemingly never tiring.

She had abandoned the topic of names now to inquire after the dietary habits of a small Bajoran boy. "What's that?"

"A milkshake."

"What's in it?"

The boy looked panicky. Milkshakes were milkshakes. Sometimes they were chocolate, sometimes strawberry, but they were always good.

"Milk? And.. and a cherry!" He pointed to the red maraschino cherry that was slowly sinking past the dollop of whipped cream and would soon plummet wholesale to the bottom of the glass, there to a be an unseen rock for the straw to run upon.

Hoda peered intently at the dairy concoction, then made an about-face and headed for the replicator. "Zounds!" came the exclamation not a minute later as Hoda stared at the list of possible milkshake flavors stored in the replicator's memory. "Huckleberry chip, tequila raisin, Rokeg blood pie, butterscotch, Ktarian chocolate, strawberry, fuzzy peach, Darmok..." After several minutes spent rattling off the extensive list that contained some very unusual flavor combinations, Hoda at last selected a Ferengi Starduster Mint. It came with two straws.

As Hoda flopped down onto her seat, a collective sigh emerged from the passengers. Perhaps the rest of the transport would be conducted in peace. Even the watered-down synthehol version of a Starduster could pack a wallop. Besides, there was a small glitch in the transport's replicator that made all milkshakes come out with the jaw-adhering consistency of treacle.

Hoda tucked her feet beneath herself and took one of the straws between her lips. She sucked avidly, but got only air, though it did have a refreshing mint quality. She tried the other straw. It, too, failed to perform up to spec. The exertion did not tire her tongue.

"They should just give spoons with these things. The straws never work. You gotta be a hoover to get even the air tasting of the treat.

We can travel at warp speeds and transmit ourselves from one place to another through space, but we can't perfect the straw!" Gripping the glass between her knees, Hoda used the two straws like chopsticks and swept up the thick beverage bit by bit. "Mmm...."

The milkshake occupied the rest of the trip for Hoda. Just as the transport was coming in to dock at Deep Space 5, she was fishing out the drowned cherry. Popping it in her mouth, belatedly removing the rough stem, she followed everyone else off and through the airlock.

Her heart was pounding. She was about to start her life in Starfleet:

a place of discipline, service, commitment - everything a girl could want. But first to find a restroom. Her face felt sticky.

"Truth" Part 1

Ensign Eve (Valentina)
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Lieutenant Saul Bental

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

Tina's quarters (AKA Ens Eve)

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

Her stomach was growling. She didn't know who was outside her door:

Victor wasn't outside her door anymore, she could feel that. She figured it was someone else, as she didn't know ANYONE that could stay awake for days on end. Nara and the counselor hadn't thought to show her where to go for food. Maybe THEY didn't need to eat, but she certainly did! Victor, well with him she hadn't thought about food, her mind was on something else entirely.

When the chime bleeped it's attentions at her she nearly jumped out of her skin! She was still trying to get used to all of this. "Come in," she called. The doors whisked open and Tina's face brightened when she saw Nara step inside. Following shortly behind her was a man she'd not yet met. Garbed in black and gray, she noted he had more devices on his collar than Nara did, and she had one more than was on Tina's own uniform.

Nara gave a fake smile, not sure what to expect, "Hello."

"Priet," the man who escorted Nara said. Tina could tell by his accent that he didn't really speak Russian.

Tina ragarded him with curiosity. He presented himself confidentally, though there was something else about him she couldn't pinpoint.

Cocking her head to one side, she opened her mouth to say something when the world exploded in her eyes! Everything looked sureal, colored in impossible pallettes and patterns! Disoriented, she made to step backwards and stumbled, her sence of ballance suddenly contradicting everything she inexplicably saw. Clenching her eyes shut she whimpered softly, willing away these twisted images.

Nara rushed to grab her, not wondering or waiting if Saul would go for her. "Eve?!" Nor did she recall the woman didn't go by Eve, or even know who Eve was.

A hand reached out and grabbed her collar. Saul, for once, haven't forgotten a very important thing - that Eve's physical strength was superbe, even if she looked harmless.

Eve, there was that name again. "It's Valentina," she muttered regaining her composure enough to keep to her feet without aditional assistance. "I .. I guess you didn't see what I did. Either that or you guys do that all the time so you're used to it."

"What?"

"What are you talking about, Valentina?" Saul asked.

Ok maybe they didn't experience such things. "A strange and impossible palette of colors," came the answer as her violet colored eyes opened up. "The center of your bodies was white, bright as the sun, from which all else spread, darkening as it spread. Everything was like that."

"Just now?" Saul inquired.

She nodded.

"I'm sure you've had your share of doctors recently, Valentina, but perhaps it would be a good idea to check this." He said. "Do you want us to make a quick leap to sick-- the ship's infirmary, or perhaps you want me to ask your doctor to come over?"

"Who are you?" she querried him. She only noted then that her uniform was the same as his, save that he had more gold devices on his collar

"Yes, that's an excellent question." The man couldn't resist a smirk.

"My name is Saul Bental, and I am 'Eve''s direct commander. I suppose everything is confusing for you right now, with total strangers acting like they know you."

Tina nodded, moving to sit down on the couch and motioning for the pair to join her. "You have no idea," she said. "There's so much that's different, the clothes, the machines-" She was cut short by a rather audible growling. She blushed, a hand on her stomach sheepishly. "And no one's shown me where I can find anything to eat,"

she finished.

"The three seashells." Saul murmured to himself. "Here, let me show you how it's done-"

Nara had a wondering and held a hand up. "Wait. Let me try something." She looked at Valentina. "I think I know who can give some answers. After you eat, I want to try something. What would you like yo eat?"

"Pirozhki and vodka," Tina replied to the food based inquiry.

"Uh...ok." Nara turned to the replicator and gave the words to the computer.

The food materialized and Nara set it on the table for Tina. She glanced at Saul.

Ok, it was plainly evident that these people used something far beyond anything she was used to. They didn't apear to suffer from it. Then again, she hadn't seen more than a few, and Victor might simply have

been tainted by it. Still, it didn't smell bad either. Sitting

down before the plate of oddly familiar yet indescribably different food she paused for a bit before attempting it. The prozhki wasn't bad. Not the specific variety she prefered, but still not bad. It tasted a little bland, though. Of the vodka, synthehol had been placed in the matrix instead of alcohol. She nearly gagged on the completly horrid taste. "Aghch!" She spluttered a bit, securing a napkin for use. "That is not vodka."

"Truth" Part 2

Ensign Eve (Valentina)
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Lieutenant Saul Bental

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

Tina's quarters (AKA Ens Eve)

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

Of the vodka, synthehol had been placed in the matrix instead of alcohol. She nearly gagged on the completly horrid taste. "Aghch!"

She spluttered a bit, securing a napkin for use. "That is not vodka."

"This is a military ship, and in the 24th. century we prefer our 'sailors' not to be drunk when on duty." Saul explained firmly.

Nara looked at Saul. How cold! She sighed and tried something gentler.

She didn't coddle Jonas and didn't attempt to coddle this woman but some sensitivity was to be had! "He's right. Maybe something that doesn't have alcohol. It shouldn't taste much different than what you...know." The words sounded weird. Eve KNEW synthenol. Yet, Eve was so gone, even the taste buds registered differently.

Seemed like a project her and her mother could work together on. It was rare Nara thought of that.

She thought of many projects she would enjoy with her father.

Upgrading one of his cybernetic components or planning out a strategic tactical plan. Not that the tactical plans were anything but practice, but still.

She did know her mother would enjoy the challenge of helping Eve. The pure mystery of what caused this, and also the science. Her mother would love it.

"Women in the military?!?!" That was completly unexpected and quite unbelievable and as such dominated her thoughts though she heard and understood what Nara was saying. "I'm not that Eve woman everyone

keeps thinking of me as! I don't know anything about this place,

what planet we're on, any of the machines you use much less the devils, demons, and other beasts you've subjugated or are experimenting on. I've got no family left because of whatever's happened, and what if I don't want to be a part this, go and do something else? What if you never manage to awaken memories I doubt I've ever had? What then?"

During her ranting Valentina had never put the fork down. As she spat out that "what then," she balled up her fist and hit the tabletop with it, acomplishing two verry surprising results. First, and most noticable, was the shattering of the table. Transparent aluminum is a remarkably sturdy material, but it can only withstand so much pressure per unit of measurement. Secondly, the handle of the fork was compressed under her grip, no longer a flat ribbon of metal but conformed to the shape of her palm and fingers.

Tina's reaction was almost comical. As the table shattered under the impact of her arm she jumped up, the chair overturning behind her.

Her arms went up reflexively, hands opening, letting the fork drop to the deck. "Is everything that fragile," she asked both worried and a little scared. "I remember someone from when I first woke up and no one could understand me. I think he may have been sick or something, his shoulder broke under my hands."

"It's not that everything is fragile." Saul responded, trying to appear indifferent to the carnage. "It's that you are stronger than what you remember from Russia. What do you know about what happened to you since you were in Russia? Do you remember leaving?"

She shook her head. "I went to bed one night, then I woke up here."

"And they didn't tell you anything?" Saul persisted. "About what happened between then and now? About how you got here?"

"Someone called a counselor said it's been something like 500 years, but that's all I know."

Good lord, Saul thought. They left her in complete ignorance. Anyone else would probably blame the ship's chief of intelligence for giving the direction to keep Valentina in the dark until her situation becomes clear, but he WAS the chief of intelligence.

"Sit down and take a deep breath, please."

Nara looked at him, "Be gentle, Saul. I would had told her but I wasn't sure I could. I THOUGHT the counselors would."

Tina moved over to the couch and sat down, letting herself relax and calm down as much as she could, before nodding to Saul that she was ready.

"I don't know much." Saul began. "You were taken by... someone unknown, who tried to turn you into a weapon against horrible enemies from outside earth. The made you stronger. They... changed you. That's why the table broke, as well as the officer's arm."

"Changed me?"

"They also made you forget about who you were. Again, I don't recall the story exactly--" A lie, Saul noted mentally, "But eventually you were found by us, the people from your future. You joined the navy - yes, even though you are a woman - and became known as Eve. That's why everyone calls you that."

Saul fell silent. There. It was out in the open now. He was no counsellor, but neither Miramon, Captain Brian, or any of the others gave him special instructions about how to handle this situation with his subordinate. However, he trusted his judgment. If he ever wakes up in the 30th. century, he'd love to know how he got there.

"What did they do to me? What's different?" She asked. "You're Eve's boss, you should know."

"I'll be honest, Valentina." Saul replied, "Explaining you what they did to you would be like you explaining to Alexander the great how a steam engine works."

Nara thought a moment. How to say it without divulging the secret, "Valentina, I believe they did something to prevent anyone from knowing what happened to you. Eve didn't know. You don't know. They made sure no one would find out. But...if you'll let me, I can perhaps try to find something out for you." She looked at Saul, "I've done it twice. If the information is available, it could be helpful."

"If Valentina agrees, and if there's no danger to her, then I'm good.

Just make sure you work with Boris Shtazai, Eve's predecessor. He's still on board, and he's Russian."

Tina nodded her consent and looked over at Nara..

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