Dreaming in Yellow, Prequal 3

Mestith, Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Mestith stood in the commandant's office once again, next to him cadet Marx stood also rigidly at attention, his latest roommate. Commandant Thravl, a Cait and the current officer in charge of the Academy sat behind her desk idly shredding a small fabric thing that might once have been a replica of a stuffed toy.

Since then it had apparently been the target of much frustration plainly displayed in its currently near-shredded state and it's lack of resemblance to anything ever remotely 'alive'.

"Cadet Messtith," she purred, his name's sibilant portion rolling out of her mouth easily, "This is not yourrr firrrst time in my offices since coming to Starrfleet Academy is it?" She only rolled her r's like that when she was upset, Mestith had learned.

He waited, choosing not to acknowledge something they both already knew the answer to.

"Cadet Marx," she turned to him and stared at him unblinking for several moments. She'd done this to Mestith once and lost the gambit since, as she discovered, Shehuryll didn't blink to moisturize their ocular membranes. "You are here because you are distressed that cadet Mestith spends his off-duty hours in the quarters naked, correct?"

"Yes," Marx grated out. He'd been grilled over this by many of his alien classmates already, many of which didn't have nudity taboos like Humans seemed to.

"And yet," she paused as she regarded a padd, "you knew this was a particular trait of your roommate before you moved into quarters, correct?"

"Yes," he nodded once again.

"You understood the reasoning behind this was because Shehuryll are a chlorophylic species that require at least eight hours of light-bathing an interval and that they do so in the nude."

"Yes," he started to blush. Now they were getting to it.

"So why is this now an issue?" she asked, cocking her head.

"He," Marx turned bright red and jerked his head at Mestith, "cadet Mestith made a pass at me ma'am."

Mestith's eyebrows rose slightly but he remained where he was, silent and aside from the eyebrows, his expression didn't change. His coloring, however, deepened to a dull orange with crimson striations and his odor became pungent and repellent.

"Cadet Mestith," she turned, her nose become wet from the olfactory assault. He smelled like rotting fruit and to her nose, it was well-rotted indeed. "Do you have anything to say? As you know, unwanted sexual advances are a serious charge in Starfleet."

"I believe that cadet Marx is making a 'joke' commandant," he explained, hi stone even though his coloration and his odor indicating he was upset. "I believe the cadet is forgetting that not only are we not sexually compatible as a species but that the sexual advances were made from the other direction."

Marx started and the Commandant looked back at him idly and turned back to Mestith. "Explain please."

"I am unsure of the specific incident," he replied dutifully, "as we have had several discussions in which cadet Marx seemed rather incensed about on thing or another, much of it having to do with the level of lighting in my enclosure or the fact that despite having not secondary mammalian sexual characteristics, my nudity seems to offend. We have had many discussions, I trying to explore why my appearance disturbs him so much and in one of these he stated that it was my actual lack of secondary sexual organs that was disturbing."

"Is this correct cadet Marx?" she asked, turning to stare at the young human, nostrils flaring now that Mestith's coloration and odors were returning to more pleasant, background, sensations.

"It is ma'am," he replied quickly and blurted out as if afraid to be cut off, "except that he offered to perform a sex act on me."

She turned and looked back at Mestith who now, returned back to a more normal coloration for his normal emotional state, lightened to yellow with green spots. His odor did change, but remained pleasant if more citrus, acidic. "Is this true?"

"Not entirely," Mestith responded with a sigh. "Once we had established that my species did, in fact, have sexual organs and that they were largely internal, he voiced curiosity about them. I explained they could be presented and offered to show him. At this point he became highly agitated and," he spread his hands helplessly, "here we are."

"Is this true cadet Marx?" she asked again, turning to look at the young man. In turn, he nodded silently. "So, to paraphrase, you were disturbed by the fact that cadet Mestith has no actually externalized sexuality and you found this disturbing." Again the nod of agreement. "You also stated that you were curious about internalized sexual characteristics after Mestith confirmed that indeed, his species has them but they're different?" Again the nod but this time more hesitant. "You then became upset when he offered to show you the very organs you had just asked about?"

"Yes but!" he started and she raised a hand. "Cadet Mestith, you are dismissed. Please return to classes. Mister Marx, remain." That was the last time she saw Adam Marx again at the Academy, though eventually they were to meet again in another Dream.

"Down to the Bone" 2

Midshipman Aina Mason - Communications Officer
Ensign Daesha (Daze) zh'Kairn - Vanguard Squadron Officer
Dr. June M'Kantu - ASDB Engineer
Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin - Flight Control Officer
Thyago Carnerio - Engineering Officer
Ella Grey, Vanguard pilot

***** Shipyards, DS5 *****

There were over two dozen vessels in the DS5 scrap yard. They sat completely still and silent, like the dead often did. There were only two ships that moved here - the Galaxy shuttle and her fighter bodyguard, gently and gracefully floating through the wreckage, around and between the dead vessels that dwarfed their small size by magnitudes.

Inside, the shuttle's crew was also still and silent. Perhaps they were listening to the radio chatter that was being played on the comm - wild sounds of battle, desperate cries for aid, testosterone laced shouts of victory, emotionless, but still frantic, declarations of orders - or, perhaps, they were shocked silent by the immensity of the craft they moved between, in the way all humans were shocked by things that were indefinably big.

A small, almost inaudible alert shattered Thyago's wide-eyed stare, and he looked down at the control panel. "There's the target," he said, breaking the silence. From his vantage point in the co-pilots seat, for he had foolishly, but successfully, agreed to man the shuttle's meager weapons, Thyago pointed to old Oberth class ship as it became visible over the horizon of a partially disassembled Miranda-class saucer. It sat dark, illuminated only by the small, dim orange sun nearly two AUs away. Its sharp light cast high contrast shadows across the two piece hull. The small saucer was almost completely eclipsed by one of its box-shaped nacelles, while the belly of the science hull shined white like bleached bone.

And on the side of the science hull, in black, square letters, read 'USS Bonestell.'

Slowly, their pilot, Ella Grey slid the shuttle around to the front of the craft, to the main shuttle bay. Because the system's star sat behind the ship, this side was in shadow, and was only a subtle shade brighter than the blackness of space. Ella flipped on the shuttle's spot light.

Daze in the fighter, took station near the bottom of the Bonestell's saucer. This was where things would get boring; she was on guard duty now, keeping an eye out on the fight while the rest were inside trying to get the other ships into the battle. Daze shook her head at that, most of these were empty hulks.

"If the ship is in reduced power mode, you'll have to transmit an access code to get into the bay, to that optical sensor there," Thyago said, and pointed to the left of the bay doors.

Ella activated the lateral thrusters, gliding the shuttle to their left and aligning it so they could properly transmit.

June peered through the piloting compartment at the closed bay doors at Thyago's words. "Yes, I think I can do something about that." She reached past Ella and keyed in a complicated sequence on the com console, and then transmitted it. "That should do it, unless the person who secured the Bonestell was a low-grade moron, or an admiral."

Shi's antennae stood straight up from her skull, a sure sign of her surprise.

"I've known both," June admitted, "and there are certain similarities between the two - more than most admirals would want to admit, anyway. But they're not all afflicted by 'increasing rank, decreasing intelligence disease'; just most of them." As she spoke, the bay doors' emergency lighting flickered on and they slowly opened, the emergency lights inside the bay clicking on a moment later.

"They're set on automatic," June explained, "so they'll close behind us. If our escort is going to need to land their fighter before we warp out, we'll need to open them up again." She leaned back out of the small compartment. "Life Support should kick on automatically, although it's likely to be a bit chilly, and the gravity will be set at .75 to conserve power; everyone watch out for that and remember to compensate."

Sharzhevashi zh'Rin felt herself shiver. More colder environments. If she survived this situation, she would swear off everything cold for a long time. Either that, or she'd have to wear arctic survival gear everywhere. At least it wasn't as cold here as it had been in the sensor room.

"Once we're in, we need to get the power back up and running, and Aina and I will need to get to the Bridge to start working. Everyone else, pitch in where you can. We've got to get communications and the warp drive up for sure, and it would be nice if the tactical systems were available too. We're not going to be able to help the big guys, in this old rowboat, but I'd at least like to be able to throw some rocks back if another group of fighters show up."

"Okay, but I'll have to go down to the impulse engine room to crank up the power," Thyago explained.

Feeling much like a lost puppy might if it were deposited into the middle of an aged Starfleet starship and given the task of bringing some of the ship's systems back online, Shi watched as the others departed on their tasks. This was not a scenario she had ever gone through at the Academy. She had received general training, as most cadets did. Perhaps she had more than some since it had taken her so much longer to find her niche, and thus spent more time in general studies. Even so, could she really bring the tactical systems online? She had doubts. At this point, she doubted pretty much everything that was doubtable. I should have stayed on the station, she thought. At least there, no one would be relying on me.

****Impulse Engines****

Satisfied with his initial inspection of the fusion cores, Thyago moved to the main control panel to begin the ignition start up. The good thing about fusion was that it could generate an immense amount of power. The bad thing was that it required quite a lot of initial power to get up and running. It wasn't easy to heat hydrogen gas up to a hundred million degrees, after all.

Usually, in this scenario, the ship would be towed to DS5 and connected to the station's power grid through an umbilical. The power from the station would then be used to ignite the ship's engines, but of course, that wasn't an option here. Usually, ships carried enough battery supply for at least one emergency start up. On a ship this size, they would only have one chance.

He double checked all the systems, running a quick diagnostic. The fuel reserves had yet to be emptied, but they only had one-fourth of a tank. Still, that would be plenty. Flow conduits appeared stable and secure. Magnetic containment checked, and he wasn't seeing any cold hydro leakage. And the magnetoturbines were working properly. It all checked, so he activated the start up program.

With a hissing of air, the growling and moaning of heated metal and the buzz of electromagnetics, the fusion cores lit up, and the power levels started to climb.

"Cool," Thyago said to himself. Now, he needed to run over to the grid hub, one deck up, and open the EPS flow up to the bridge and all of the ship's major systems.

He turned to dash out of the room, but then stopped, skidding on his heel. Oberth class ships had a prescribed compliment of about eighty. Between twenty and thirty of those would have been engineers. Impulse engines were a critical system (since most of the ship's power came from their fusion reactors), they would require one of those twenty to thirty people to be here monitoring things at all times. But, he had no more hims to spare.

Thinking, Thyago slowly walked back to the main control console, considering his options. On one hand, if he let things run normally, some fatal mechanical breakdown would occur, which would require immediate human intervention. Were he not there to intervene, things could get explodey. On the other, if he switched control fully to the computer, which tended to err dramatically on the side of safety, the engines could shut off for a number of insignificant reasons. And, if that happened, they would be alive, but completely stranded and without power, and unable to start the engines up again.

Following the theory that it was better to be safe than exploded, Thyago brought up the automation options and activated them.

He turned to leave once more, but then stopped, yet again, and cried, "Oh," as he realized another option. It should be possible to transmit a number of monitoring functions to a portable computer. If only he had one. He stepped over to the walls of the room, which in Starfleet vessels, were always riddled with cabinets and drawers with generic, and sometimes specialized, tools and equipment. And computers were all over the place on these ships. There would undoubtedly be one in there, somewhere. Hopefully.

But, unfortunately, a number of the compartments had apparently been emptied out. All he could find was an empty GF liner (bad engineer etiquette), three Philips screwdrivers (always useful), a paintbrush (totally useless) and gamma ray Geiger counter (should be with the warp engines).

As he opened the second to last drawer, he sighed, "Ah, finally," for inside, lay a large eight-by-ten inch tablet computer (but no battery charger). He booted it up to find it only had forty-five minutes of power remaining. It would have to do. Then, he connected the USB to the fusion control panel and uploaded the portable monitoring interface. And when it was done, he turned and ran out of the room and to the power grid hub.

***** Few minutes later *****

With a slow, jerky glide, the auxiliary access door to the Bridge opened up and admitted June and Aina, the older woman still a puffing a bit from the rapid dash up the emergency ladders and stairs. "For the first time I'm glad this is an old Oberth," June commented as she moved to the engineering console and start checking it. "Anything bigger and I'd be wasting time catching my breath."

Aina moved to the communications station, everything was dark on the panel and it wasn't until Thyago had got backup power running for the bridge did her station finally become active.

Her nose wrinkled in annoyance as she noticed the configuration of the panel, it was at least three years out of date and half of the options she needed would be buried deep under menus and sub-menus. Spending a few moments, she had the station reconfigured to satisfaction.

As Aina was working on the communications systems, June was booting the Bonestell's computer core back up and initializing the critical systems they'd need. "Sensors are coming back up," she reported as Aina finished. "Engineering looks okay for now, although the warp drive's still offline. How're you doing there?"

"I've got some response from the other ships, but most are still on minimum power, it's going to take a while, to get them up to speed, a few of them don't want to talk to me, but I'm working on that," returned Aina

"Do what you can," June nodded. "If time gets tight, and you've got a good connection, see if you can get one of the command holograms that are up and running to copy themselves over to any of the ships you're worried might not have one installed yet. Might work, might not, but it's better than nothing."

Aina nodded. As she looked down, the console reported back that all the ships had confirmed status. Tapping in the commands, mostly the magic codes from June, the 'sleeping' computers were waking up. But a few of them seemed to have the need for a strong shot of caffeine or raktijino - their responses were very slow.

=/\="Shi,"=/\= June called out over the ship's intercom system as she moved there and started to work. =/\="I'm going to get Helm up and running for you next so you've got a little time to get a feel for the ship; head on up to the bridge, it should be ready by the time you get here."=/\= She paused, frowned, and tried another sequence on the console. "You hear that, you antiquated piece of junk? I said you'd be working so you don't have a choice."

The console beeped in denial of her efforts. "Let me rephrase that," June said sweetly, "Think of it this way: work or die!" She jabbed a finger at the console and was rewarded with a cheerful beep and the hum of a starting console. "You just have to know how to talk to them," she explained to Aina with a grin.

Aina gave a small smile, "I usually leave the access cover open and leave my diagnostic kit not far from it. The system usually gets the idea a few minutes later," she chuckled, "start working or I'll be diving deep inside. Use your method against a Klingon computer and it'll fight back, my way is more insidious."

As she was talking, the turbolift doors opened and Shi walked through, the paleness of her blue skin, showed how cold she was. Aina felt sorry for the Andorian ensign, while she was wondering what she could do to help, her console beeped. "Doctor M'Kantu, all ships have confirmed operational readiness and the command functions have been transferred to the tactical and strategic emulation systems."

On the main view screen, the screen split itself in the many smaller versions and each one contained the image of the command hologram for each ship. "They are ready for your orders, doctor."

As June turned from Aina to look at the screen, Shi, still shivering, called out from her CONN console, "Reading a contact. It is heading toward our location." The navigational sensors were showing something heading towards the ship, but the computer was slow in resolving what it was.

Ella who was at tactical looked at June, "Confirmation - one of the Hydran vessels, bearing...oh one seven mark three, they're firing!"

Even as she spoke, the holographic captains were making decisions to protect their vessels, but most were either low on power; their engines weren't up to scratch or just plainly out of ordnance. There were a lot of ships out there, but they hadn't the time that they needed, the Hydrans had discovered the ruse a lot earlier than everybody had hoped for.

The little computer controlled battle-group hadn't had the time to prepare properly and now they were in combat - the Hydrans had taken the initiative.

The main view screen quickly changed to the battle outside and a Hydran vessel was firing on an old modified Nelson class. The little scout was nimble and evaded some of the fire, but its shields weren't at full power and the beams burned through and hit the primary hull, split second later, the screen was bright with its destruction.

"We've lost the Trieste ," reported Aina. "Solaris, Gh'Ran and Ankh-Morpork report non-operational on torpedoes, no ordinance. Loknar, Voight and R'rrangir are moving into attack, the rest are asking for orders."

"How did they..." June started asking herself, but she already knew the answer, the fusion reactors, on the initial ignition would have sent a burst of neutrinos - someone on those vessels had thought quickly. One down, twenty three to go and most of those were empty hulls, just power, engine and hull...

Ella called out, "Computer reports firing on Soyuz, Droya and Farley, taking heavy damage - shields are failing."

"Link lost to the Farley," reported Aina. As she spoke another bright glow filled the small bridge, but the Farley was closer than the Trieste and the Bonestell rocked with the explosion.

"Bonestell, this is Vanguard Eight - if you are going to do something, better make it quick. We are running out of good guys," came over the comm.

Behind them, the turbolift doors opened and Thyago tumbled out onto the floor. "Caralho! What happened?" he asked from Aina's feet. "Did the engines explode?"

"Nope - the USS Farley did," Aina answered. "USS Soyuz and Droya are firing."

"Oh," he said. "Foda."

Ella called out, "Hydran ship has reduced shields, to eighty three percent on dorsal hull. Hydran fighters bearing on us."

June turned to Shi, "Get working on calculating a simple warp out of here, just away. We aren't going to have the time to let the computers calculate one; you'll have to do it on the fly."

Sharzhevashi zh'Rin swallowed hard. This would be the first ship she had been given the opportunity to pilot since graduating from the Academy. Her hands were steady despite the chill as she engaged the maneuvering thrusters. It was only a few moments more before the impulse engines came online.

The Bonestell moved like a science ship should. The helm responded slowly, the engines were not designed for high speed maneuvers, and it was obvious that acceleration was not a feature. Even so, their lives depended on this ship performing like a modern ship able to hold its own in a fight.

The ship was small, but as soon as they began moving, it drew the Hydran ship's attention. Shi's fingers danced across the helm as she threw the Oberth-class ship through a series of evasive maneuvers. Historically, ships of this class had faired poorly whenever combat was initiated. Given her choice, Shi felt that a Nova-class ship would have made for a better, more manoeuvrable science vessel. But if wishes were an option, wishing the Hydrans away would have been the ideal choice.

Mental complaints of the ship's class and what she could do with at least one wish were pushed from her mind as she focused her attention on the dilemma. Instead, she sent the Bonestell through a set of evasive maneuvers that would have been a corkscrew pattern on most ships, but ended up being a wobbling twist in the smaller ship. Even so, the secondary hull was inverted at just the right moment, and Hydran weapons fire raked through empty space. Shi breathed a sigh of relief, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

Daze looked around at the massive hulls, compared to her fighter. She was staying under the Oberth - the ships looked like a bunch of Andorian bulls in the rutting season, though they looked even more clumsy. She winced as she watched two starships, their warp engines missed each other by a clearance of metres.

"Vanguard Eight to Bonestell: Why don't you throw some of those big hulls at the Hydrans," again came over the comm in the bridge. "Give them something else to worry about, something else to aim those beams at."

June worked her console rapidly, trying to get all of the ships she could connect to the Bonestell's computer worked into something resembling a network. "Aina," she called out without looking up, "what's the status on the ships you've reached? If you've activated all you're going to get, then have them go to autonomous action and give me a hand with this network connection. As soon as Shi gets her jump computed, we're going to have to go then - we can't wait for Galaxy; those Hydrans are going to chew us up."

Aina thought it was prudent not to say that some of the ships had already started taking autonomous control - or it might have just been the recognition that a good defense is a very nasty offence. But she had all of them ready for communications. "Got it Doctor M'Kantu, got all of them. Got two ships that are transferring over command holographic officers, to two ships not responding." she called out.

Looking over at June's network configuration, "Doctor - reset your transport protocol stack and set it for port three forty ninety nine. I've set for a modified two twenty seven net link, it hasn't gotten past Standards, but it should give us a faster and more stable connection, with all of the jamming, we are losing data - hopefully it should account for it."

June paused, reconfigured her stack, and nodded. "Yes, much better - thanks!"

"Got it, got it - code green for all ships," called out Aina. "As soon as we've got a warp calculated - it will go to all ships." Chewing her lip as she worked to plot the jump, Shi could feel the weight of responsibility resting squarely on her shoulders. With one hand, she pushed her hair back from her forehead while the other worked out the final computations. With both antennae nearly pressed flat against her skull with the stress of having but one chance to get this right, she went over the equations one final time. "Calcuations ready," she cried out. A moment later, confirmation that all ships had received the calculations.

Everybody else was watching as the Hydran vessel grew larger on their screens, another ship had already been destroyed, with Shi's yell - June turned, "Get us out of here."

Shi hit the control on her console and for the few split seconds for the warp coils to build up power to bend and fold space seemed to take forever.

As the ship was travelling away from the battle, Aina felt a little cowardly, like she had run-away. She knew that they could not stay, but it didn't stop the feeling.

"Aina, contact the Galaxy and give them our course and rendevous point," ordered June. "Ella, scan our course and destination. I don't think I could handle another surprise."

"The Cavalry Arrives" Part 3

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

"Damn it!" The Colonel muttered, kicking a bulkhead in frustration. To say he was upset about this 'miss-communication' as one might colorfully declare it, was an understatement. Marines had a reputation for aggression for a reason... they were 'supposed' to fight. In the buildup to battle one got 'wound up' for what would happen, a natural response which increased aggression and physical stamina in sentient species. It also had the potential of being one hell of a problem in instances like this, where one was 'teased' to such a state without being able to pull the metaphorical trigger. It was often compared to sexual frustration, but the cliche dualistic metaphor wasn't entirely accurate. It cut a 'lot' deeper. "Fine, let's get the hell out of here."

The former Captain understood the Marine's frustration. The problem was, there just wasn't enough time to launch a full scale counter-attack on the station. For that type of plan to work, more ships and troops were needed. Jaal turned and gave a few final orders. The last of the ragtag group started making their way to the shuttle bay to head back to the Galaxy. Next, the Trill turned to a nearby console he'd been using to access DS5's network. After his fingers danced a few seconds across the keyboard he hit one final key.

He turned to For'kel with the most serious expression the Stagnorian had seen on his face. "We've got fifteen minutes."

Cianan lifted another limp body into a hopper, a random crew member of the station that sustain severe plasma burns when a conduit erupted. He was a lucky one in some regards - at least he lived. As Cianan turned his head back to see what was coming next he was given a signal he at first didn't comprehend. His mind quickly put it together. It was time to leave, plans changed and the station would not be retaken. The physician shook his head - frickin' waste of marine talent.

"How many more?" Cianan called out.

"A lot." The Bajoran corpsman responded, unable to give a specific number as she struggled to find open hopper space to place more of the wounded and unarmed civilians. Things were getting very crowded, very quickly on the Station.

Briefly Cora pondered the twists of fate that had led her to piloting one of the Marine shuttles for this mission. Part of her had to admit she was actually enjoying the change despite their current mission. However that didn't mean she would let her guard down until they were safely back aboard the Galaxy.

"Arvelion to all units, fall back to the LZ."

Almost immediately a response came back. There was a stream of affirmative acknowledgments, followed by a panicked plea for assistance from one of the forward squads. "This is Sergeant Charles Ramsey sir, we're cut-off and pinned down! I can't move my squad!"

In the background For'kel could clearly hear shouting, and the distinct crackling noise he recalled as Hydran plasma rifle fire. They were definitely in trouble. "Where's your squad?"

"Cargo bay 6, sir!"

"Sit tight, reinforcements are on the way." He closed out the comm line, calling over his shoulders to his troops. "First and second squads with me, we've got Marines in need!" For'kel next looked over to Jaal, knowing if there was anyone he could trust to get things organized, it was his old Miranda mate. "Make sure you take the prisoners with you, who knows what they'll reveal. Reacquire some of the starbase's runabouts and shuttles if you need to, but as soon as you're all loaded up, get going. Don't wait up!"

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

Meanwhile, he had decided that he wasn't just going to stand and wait for transport, so Max went about checking up on the various immediate and delayed patients who were waiting. Vitals were good for some, bad for others. One man was still bleeding out very slowly internally, but maintained his hemodynamic stability. Max was certain that it was at any time his vascular system would be compromised, and the pressure (both systolic and diastolic) would fall rapidly. He was not looking forward to working an arrest without volume expanders.

His newly acquired deterrent with fresh power pack was slung neatly and diagonally across his shoulders, out of the way of what his hands were r eally meant to do. For some reason, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. His favorite person was back.

The short redheaded Nurse Victory made her way through the crowd with one of the last groups of injured from the makeshift medical camp. Unlike Max she carried no phaser, but rather an armfull of patient. If not for the situation it would have been rather comical to see the thin five foot four woman carrying a heavy built man of over six feet over her shoulder as she was at that moment.

"Come on, just a little further and you guys will be about ready to get on one of the evacuation shuttles" she said, her voice calm and soothing as she gently set the unconscious man down on the deck. The others she had been guiding all gathered around as she checked his vitals once more with her tricorder. "Okay, just wait here and you will be taken aboard in turn with the rest. We're almost out of here" she said to them and then was off.

She spotted Max not to far away, looking in her direction. Walking over to him she smiled briefly, determined. "Just about everyone is here now. A couple of others are still coming, the Marines have the last ones and will have them here in a few moments" she said. "How are you holding up?" she asked and pushed her glasses back up her nose with an index finger.

"I'm holding up alright," Max replied eyeing the last group leaving. "You should be on that Shuttle when it leaves," he added.

"Oh? And what about you?" she asked.

"I'm staying with the rest of these injured," he replied, angling his head towards the few litters that were behind him. "Hopefully they can get a lock on all of them via transporter. All of the critical patients needed the hopper and shuttle space. These cannot walk, but are not severe enough to get a spot."

"Well than I'm staying too" Victory said, crossing her arms. "You can't just stay here alone with these people. Two medics are better than one, especially if it takes longer for the ship to get in close to beam us out" she said. "Anyways, I can't just leave my new friend behind, I don't have anyone else"

That didn't sit well with him, but he wasn't going to start arguing with her. It just didn't seem right to him at the moment. "Alright," he sighed. He handed her a transporter tag. "We're screwed if this doesn't work." Then Max took her right hand into his left hand, a warm smile on his face. "Besides, I think we have someplace to be when we get outta here, right?"

Victory smiled. "I still don't know exactly why you would want to go on a date with me" she replied. "But it's something good to look forward to after all of this terrible ordeal" she looked into his eyes for a moment, her own red eyes glowing dimly in the moody station lighting.

Despite her artificial nature her hands felt just as warm and real as Max's. The people who had built her had done an incredible job reproducing her original form to almost an exacting detail. Of course a lot of things, body heat, breathing, blushing..all those were part of the illusion that could be switched off when not needed. Only her eyes betrayed her true nature, and only because they had been perminently damaged.

"Well, I think we should get back to tending to our patients?" she said after a moment.

"Right," Max almost stammered, lost in some thought. "We should." He released her hands and went about getting back to work.

OOC: This might be a little earlier than the time referenced, but I'm sure it can be pieced in :-)

"Plan B"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer
188th Marine Detachment

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

They must have scared the ever loving hell out of about a half dozen Hydrans that were unfortunate enough to run into them as they sprinted like mad down the corridors. 10 Marines moved forward in a very tight tactical column, braving incoming fire from the enemy without always taking aim in their responses. Speed, more than terminal effectiveness, was what they were worried about now. So long as the Marines weren't followed, they could care less about what the Hydrans were up to on the now doomed stellar installation.

It was somewhere between a two-hundred and two-hundred and fifty meter sprint from their original location to the cargo bay. The sound of phaser fire being exchanged became increasingly audible as they approached. They were most definitely at that point where push was coming to shove. They absolutely 'needed' to get to the lost squad before Hydran reinforcements did.

"Sergeant, take your squad along the next corridor. We move in on the count of five!" As the Colonel issued his orders, a purple plasma jet shot over the heads of two of his Marines, who immediately returned fire in the direction of the shooter. The Hydran went down, but it was obvious there were more behind him, on their way to secure this sector of the station.

The Red-headed Irish non-com gave a taught nod before taking the four other Marines in his squad around to the other side of the encapsulated cargo bay. Fork began the countdown in his mind, finding it hard to stay focused as his ears trained on the sounds inside the bay. The volley of fire being exchanged increased, immediately followed by a shout of "She's down! Menendez is down!"

Private First Class Yolanda Menendez was one of the 188th's newest additions, joining the unit as part of the routine transfer process at the same time he and Shaw had been transferred to the Galaxy's Marine detail. He met the young latina a couple of times... she certainly had her head on straight. Infinitely practical, she was an average marksman, and of average proficiency in infantry tactics, but was one of the most dedicated people you could ask for. You could always train an average Marine that was dedicated how to fight... you couldn't take a genius tactician and train that Marine to hold the line, however. Some things were simply a matter of personality.

And like that, time was up.

He slapped his combadge after a wide-beam shot down the hall to stave off another Hydran pair. "Ramsey, we're coming in! Hold your fire on the level doors." As soon as the affirmative response came, he gave the word to his Marines. "Go, go, go!"

As the fighting Irish-man and his squad burst through on the port side of the cargo bay, For'kel's came through the starboard side. The Hydran fire teams, which had thus far enjoyed outnumbering their enemy, keeping them pinned to the makeshift fortifications of cargo containers, stored items, and spare parts had become fixated on their targets... waiting for that one unfortunate soul, like Menendez, to stick a vulnerable body part out from behind cover. That kind of anticipation and focus meant they didn't notice the charging Marines coming through the door.

Whether it was because they expected it to be their own troops, or because they were stunned by the new ruckus, or perhaps they just didn't give a damn, grasped by the 'hunt' too much to notice, the momentary lack of attention on their part was all the Marines needed to turn the situation around. For'kel never bothered shooting at the Hydrans specifically, instead he took out the supports to the catwalks on which the Hydran firing lines had assembled. The groaning of metal before the clank-'an'-thud sound of bodies striking the deck resounded throughout the cargo bay. Had there been any question in the mind of the Hydrans where the Marines were, they certainly had their answer now.

Those Hydrans that were brave (or dumb) enough to try and get back up for the fight were finished off in a hail of yellow phaser pulses and beams. Those that were dead, or smart enough to pretend they were, were spared. Fork hadn't come in looking to kill anymore Hydrans, he would've been equally satisfied if he got his men and walked home without a fight. Things always unfolded as they would however, thank you mister Murphy.

"Clear!" Sergeant O'Keefe's booming voice, complete with accent, echoed.

Right now they were alone, but For'kel knew better than to believe that would last for long. As they spoke, the Hydrans were probably gathering for some kind of siege of the bay. Certainly the Hydrans that had pulled back in their blitz of the room were waiting on reinforcements. He and the rest of the Marines ran for their previously encircled comrades. Immediately one of the Marines from her squad began performing combat first aid on PFC Menendez, about the best anyone there could do until they got back to the Galaxy.

"Aye, dios mio!" she yelped when For'kel helped her to sit up in Spanish, or at least some derivative there of. It was slightly, nearly imperceptibly (from a Stagnorian's point of view) difference in her accent and annunciation from other spanish speaking crew members aboard the Galaxy... damn humans had the most complicated linguistic form he ever came across. Hundreds of languages, thousands of dialects, all indigenous to a single world... but the marvel of human society would be better left for a time when they weren't under fire. "Relax Private, they'll get you fixed up back aboard the ship. Can you walk?"

She gave her usual determined nod, and despite a grimace, with the help of For'kel and the Private who was by her side, managed to get to her feet despite the bad, burned wound on her outer thigh. "No problem, sir."

"What now, sir?" O'Keefe took the break in action to change his power cell and check his tricorder. "We've got hostiles coming up the corridors."

"The rest of the unit and the survivors are back on Galaxy by now, or at least on their way. We have to go to Plan B. There's a runabout landing pad another hundred meters from here, we'll help oursel...."

And just as Plan B was being discussed, the entourage disappeared in blue transporter beams. When they re-materialized, it was on the Galaxy... in Marine Country, which was being hastily converted to accommodate the flow of refugees and returning Marines. Major Shaw had taken it to assume the job of organizing things here, including security checks to assure everyone being brought back to the Galaxy 'was' supposed to be here.

"Damn Colonel, that's a hell of a plan B."

He spared the wounded woman, now wearing a teasing grin, a small smile. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Not exactly as intended, but I don't think you'll get any complaints from us, sir." The Irishman grinned broadly, shouldering his rifle after reducing it's setting. "I never thought I'd be so happy to be back on this tub."

"Transporter Room One to Colonel Arvelion..." a wonderfully, familiarly melodic voice sang over the open channel. "Please respond."

Well that answered 'who' was responsible for that little piece of divine intervention... and how sweetly heavenly it was. She was the best plan B anyone could ask for. "We're here Berilyn, you got us out."

"Muchas gracias!" Yolanda shouted, trying to get her response in as well.

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. Perhaps the most relieving sigh anyone could actually sigh. "Understood. Welcome home."

On occasion, you had to have a bit of faith in plan B... even if it wasn't exactly the plan B you thought it was going to be.

"The Goodbye Girl"

Faylin McAlister
Civy

Location: Civilian temporary quarters

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

The remnants of her life lay neatly tucked away in the traditional grey cargo carriers that were generally dictated towards that sort of thing. The only contrast to the grey were the hard cases of a black color, their contents hidden from mortal view, only to be known by the person that they called Mistress.

Only one thing left to do on the ship......this ship that was ridden with memories both sweet, but overly bitter. She sat in the worn chair reserved for 'lower class' civilians and with a slight retraction of her legs, found herself upon the lone console in the room. Raising her fingers, select digits wrapped around the ancient fountain pen as she began her script

Saul,

Upon my arrival on the Galaxy, there was an ulterior motive involved. You and I both knew that....plain and simple. You knew me too well to know that innocent act wasn't going to fly. And for a while, it did.

I'm not upset with you for concerning Baile or Olivia, things happened. Retribution will occur someday, it always does.

Panther, I love you....but for obvious reasons it was not meant to be. Whether that reason be because of your own stubborn pride, or the knowledge of whom and what I am.....that's for you to decide and I'm sure you know the answer to that. I just wish things would have been different. We would have and did make a hell of a pairing...taking the universe by storm....blazing a path across the galaxy like none before us or after us. A modern day Bonnie and Clyde if you will.

As it were, destiny has called me back to her breast, beckoning me with the past delicacies of a life that I can not deny. I leave this ship praying for your continued safety in your path of life...where ever it may lead.

I will always be around, concealing myself in the dimness that you make with your form. I will always protect you from my home within the darkness. Whenever you feel fear, be frightened not....for I am there with you in your heart and soul. Where ever you go, what ever you do...know this....I am watching you from the shadows. When ever your senses think you smell my scent, think you see my vision, think you hear my voice in the far off distance.....know that I am there haunting you, loving you, and always protecting you.

Your Dark Angel, Fay

"Crouching Tigress, Hidden Motive"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Commander James Corgan
Chief Of Security

Location: Foreign Corridor of Galaxy

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

Taking a welcome break from the chaotic demands of the survivors, in particular the children caused Ophelia to lower her head while moving slowly throughout a un titled corridor of the ship. It was a composition of possible disaster as the woman did not care to watch where she was going or coming from. Her mind was jumbled with the events of the little red head named Eragon who in a short time had stolen her heart and mind as a refugee of the Hydran occupation of the station she rescued him from.

Her forearm was still tender from his shot, and would be for a few more days according to medical personnel. Sighing, she felt a sudden wave of nausea over come her as she instinctively reached out for the corridor wall, but winced somewhat as her brain registered to her that she had actually grabbed a rather large muscled forearm of a fellow officer. Swaying to the right, Ophelia looked up through hazy vision at the person that suddenly found himself supporting most of her small frame.

Despite Ophelia's mental flattery, James always found himself to be a whippet of a man, thin, boney and light on his feet. Yet James Lionel Corgan's projection of himself was less than flattering, and it showed by his rather astonishment that he was supporting her weight at all. Still, had to give some credit to a strict Starfleet physical regiment, increased physical requirements for his station as a security chief, and harder standards on himself to improve wherever he endeavored.

So his mental projection was not accurate. Thin turned to lean, skinny in turn became efficient, and light on his feet became agile. He was well muscled, like a martial artist, but hardly had any bulk. Being tall helped him project that smart, confident body with some smart confident power.

And it didn't help that he was handsome too. Blonde hair, a conservative and spiked cut to it, and thin rimmed glasses that were tinted yellow (professional target practice gear). His other hand held a phaser rifle with an exotic targeting system used by professionals.

One could say he was an imposing, awe inspiring sight, even if he didn't see it.

And it showed.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am!" James propped up the new JAG officer to the wall, an absentminded expenditure of effort no more than a child picking up a toy, "Are you alright?" He said with a shakiness as if he was handling dangerous goods, "I didn't mean to bump you."

"You...didn't....and...I'm...fine..." She managed to wrangle out before placing her left hand up to her forehead for a moment. The indent that her wedding ring had made on her left hand was filling out nicely to her amazement once she was able to focus. Slighting turning her head to the side, she took in the sight that stood in front of her and outright blushed crimson.

Her perception of herself was one of complete mess. The black combat gear was still plastered to her body for the most part, along with the crusted remnants of her own blood from the grazed wound she received. Her dark tresses that once shined in a glorious mass of pony tailed glory limped lifelessly to her right shoulder and cried out for a shower and some wonderful conditioner.

Clearing her throat, she inwardly chastised herself. "Um..heh..."

"Yeah..." James tousled his hair, yet it didn't get as messy as hers, "I'm Commander James Corgan. Are you alright? Did I cause that gash?"

He thought, ~"I don't think I did... geez she looks like hell."~

Ophelia straightened her posture, yet couldn't come near to the height of the man that still stood in front of her with a curious expression laid wide open on his features. It must have been because she was the most unkempt creature he had ever laid eyes on. Yeah, that was it she whispered to herself. For usually, JAGs were known for their court like polish twenty four hours a day and night. "Lt. Ophelia Zamora.....Chief Liaison Officer..and JAG." She managed to eek out chased by another blush and another silent curse.

If there was any indication of distaste, Corgan did not show it.

~"Awww fuck, another lawyer."~ Corgan wanted to roll his eyes, but kept himself impassive and blank.Hey, just because he did not show it didn't mean his prejudices were not still there.

But what was he to do. He was a reaper of lives and a killer of sentients, but even he had to bow down to the unholy might that was the average Starfleet lawyer. They could bring down warlords with the sweep of a treaty, destroy lives with lawsuits and turn brave men into quivering jelly with the mighty power of subpoena.

Compared to Corgan's career 225 confirmed kills, the Lieutenant JG was head and shoulders more intimidating than he was.

And here he was, helping her up like a lost little pet.

~"Christ... get me out of here..."~

"Thank you...." She whispered calmly. It was one of her defense tactics, and a damn good one at that. The little lost kitty cat with the large dark eyes full of pure innocence. The look made the usual gentleman with the profession of Starfleet Officer mentally say..."Aw....she's adorable." Yet, that look could turn in an instant resulting in a deep scratches to her victims, low growls of legal warning, and a satisfaction of control so deep that it would cause any normal person to scream for mercy.

That understanding alone made it so difficult for people to swallow once they found out that she had been a victim of domestic violence. However, work and personal lives were often separated, especially in the legal field. That separation led to a paradox of sort, which created the complex creature the Chief of Security stood before presently. Out of the blue...Zamora narrowed her eyes at Corgan for a short nanosecond of time. "Chief....when was the last time your department's legal guidelines were discussed with you and your personnel? Under regulation 14392-5, the debriefing should occur every ten to twelve months unless department turnover is larger than twenty percent. As I'm sure you are aware, your department turnover during the last six months alone was thirty five percent."

There is was, the 'White Tigress' was out of her cage narrowing in on her prey.

And James was having none of it. Nobody mentioned to the Lieutenant that Commander Corgan was once certifiably insane and faced threats from her equals or higher ups before. Kittens had a hard time breaking his skin.

That, and the inappropriate time to bridge the topic. In the middle of a warzone during the eve of battle? If she choose her battles of dominance, it was not well, and if she picked her opponents it was rather poorly. And if it was turning personal, such as it was now, it would leave James with yet another enemy on the ship.

It had to be a ploy. She wanted to scrap. Abrasive, rapid 'fuck off' approach, or let her down easy?

He took the latter.

"Every four months on my ship, actually." James stated, "Not only because of the higher turnover and transfer rate, but also because our actions can lead to the most legal repercussions. Not only do I have my staff refreshed in Starfleet law as pertaining to their jobs, I have them refreshed on treaties and civil rights because nothings worse than a starfleet security officer that caves in a head of a pacifist alien on Peacenik VI and starts a civil rights shit storm. I also have a trained lawyer on my staff to remind us of those facts and a Vulcan that lets me know when I fuck up... every time. But don't worry. You can cross reference that with your department."

"I plan to." She stated simply in a very cool manner.

"You know..." James said in a chiding voice, "You need to relax. Don't worry. No need to joust. I'm a no bullshit kind of guy. I'm cool like that. We just need to stop worrying about the legal crap that could ruin my life if applied properly."

Ophelia stayed silent, rare for an attorney as she shot a single eyebrow up in his direction.

But James wasn't quite finished, "...and worry more about the Hydrans outside that will most certainly ruin my life unless I get back to work."

"You do your job, I'll do mine Chief." Zamora stated with a rather thickened accent of growing aggrivation. Unstrapping the phaser rifle from her back, she glanced down at the worn black color of the weapon then up at him with a wry smile. "What's deadlier than an attorney?"

James saw what was coming, humouring the lawyer. "Oh yeah? What?"

"An attorney with a charged phaser rifle....so....don't worry about the Hydrans outside that much. They'll either be screaming from me shooting them....or running from my process server. Nice meeting you."

James let out a raspy chuckle. "Moxie. That's what I want to hear. If the Hydrans start ransacking your file folders, give my boys a call. We'll straighten them out."

"And if you need a diplomatic officer to bore the hell out of your boys....give me a call." Winking, Ophelia let the hint of a playful smile cement on her lips. Turning, she muttered as she yanked the pony tail holder from her hair. "God....I need a shower and a drink."

"A Proposal"

1st Lieutenant Branwen London

&

Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia

After returning from the Starbase, and learning he had been promoted to Marine Battalion XO in Major Shaw's place, Man'darr hadn't yet had a chance to shower as he stepped int o his quarters. A minute later, he heard the chime sound. "Enter."

He turned to see Branwen enter his quarters and smile instantly crossed his face. "Hey Bran. What brings you here?"

"Can't I come to visit my boy friend?" She managed to smile at him and keep her mixed emotions at bay. "Congrats on the promotion, Dar." Bran said softly. " You have earned it."

"Thank you." He took her into his arms and kissed her passionately before letting her go again.

She held on to him, glad he wasn't picking up on her conflicting emotions and kissed him back. "I was afraid fo r you down there." She whispered. " Maybe now you will stay out of danger more."

"Do not be afraid for me, Bran. I am able to take care of my self. However, I appreciate y our concern for my welfare. I am glad you are not harmed."

" I can take care of myself as well," She chuckled as they broke apart.

"Also, I noticed that you did not say much when the announcement wasmade to promote me to XO of the Detachment. Is something troubling you?"

Her face clouded a little . " I wanted to congratulate you in private. Why would anythin g bother me?"

"I do not know...I am unsure as it appears that some are still having trouble getting acquainted with the merge. If ther e is something bothering you, I want you to feel free to say something."

She hesitated. "I am not going to rat on my friends and my patients." She said. "It will take time, love. It is not easy on the troops that the new XO is again an outsider." She couldn't even be angry because she loved him. And s he was not going to burden him with her silly jealousy. "I know you will win them over."

"You think it should have been someone else?" he turned to look at her...noticing the conflicting looks her face was displayi ng. It didn't take a Betazoid to figure out what was in Branwen's head. "You think it should have been y ou?"

"I didn't say that." She became a little defensive. "I know I don't have the qualifications for the job, nor the experience. That's not talk about this, shall we.," her own emotions were making her uncomfortable.

A small grin crossed Man'darr's face. "Why is it that counselors never want to talk about their problems?"

“What if I have no problems.” She grumbled, not liking at all were this was going.

Man'darr sighed. He knew something was bothering her, yet she was unwilling to tell him about it--she was as stubborn as a Capellan female. "Why are you unwilling to talk about things that are bothering you? You should be able to talk to me about anything."

"Look, I'm doing this to spare your feelings. Trust me you've easy don't want to hear my feelings on the subject. It is true that I am happy for you, let's leave it at that, okay?"

"Spare my feelings?" Man'darr was beginning to grow angry at the thought of Branwen keeping something from him. "So you'd rather just go about your business and act as if everything is ok? I suppose I have not truely earned your trust."

“Oh yeah!” She flared back angry. “Would you rather hear how angry I am? Do you know how long I held that job? Over a year, I worked double shifts for month to keep the department going. I even ran it during the dimes that Baile disappeared. And did I ever get one word of thanks for it? Nope, nada, zilch. And then you guys from the Miranda walz in and take over and tell us subtly what a lousy rotten job we did. And now that Shaw left anot her Miranda officer gets put in the position over the old guard. It makes me angry and it makes me sad, is that wh at you want to hear, Dar?”

Man'darr looked at the woman for a long moment before speaking. He was angry at Branwen's thoughts but was glad she finally spoke about it. "I never told you, you were doing a lousy job. This detachment was merged before my arrival, so I had nothing to do with it. You can blame this ship's CO for that, if you wish. Though I do not like your words, at least they are truthful."

"I know you are not to blame." She said softly. "That's why I did not speak up. I am angry at you at some level just because you got my job. I also know very well it's not your fault, and I know you will do well. It's stressful." She was now clearly showing her frustration.

"Next time, do not feel afraid to tell me something. I'd rather for you to be mad at me for some reason than to keep it up inside you. Your time will come as XO of this detachment. I consider you next in line in the chain of command."

“There are more lieutenants on the ship, and with more experience then I have. They will think you favor me because I am your girlfriend.”

"As you said, you once acted as Detachment Commander, so that makes to the next logical choice for XO. Let the others think what they want. If they have a problem with it, just send them to me and I will...'enlighten' them."

“Hey I can look after myself!” But she smiled. “I can you know. I am a big girl now.” Bran put her arms around him.

"Is that so?" he asked, wanting to lighten the mood, lifted her up, flipping her upside down in fron of him as he held her by her legs. "Looks like the big girl needs help," he chuckled.

Branwen squealed first in surprise and then with delight. "Please, have mercy." She giggled. "I admit defeat."

Man'darr flipped Branwen back upright and put her down, as he wrapped his arms around her. "I suppose I could offer mercy just this once," he replied with a smile.

She couldn’t stop giggling, this was exactly what she needed to lighten her mood. “please my lord, grant me this boon and I will be a good girl.”

"So you admit you haven't been a good girl? And who are you calling a boon?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Another giggle. “That is old english, hon. It means I am asking a favor of you. And I guess I haven’t been good because I was angry. But it is all better now.” You can put me down now, you know.”

Man'darr placed Branwen down. "I'll be right back," he said as he went into the other room.

"Okay." She fumbled with her clothes and hair a little bit. Being held upside down did not do wonders for the way you looked.

Man'darr soon returned with a small silver box and handed it to Branwen. "I...am unsure how to do this as capellan customs include me defeating your father or some other male relative in combat...and I do not think that would suit well with you." Man'darr watched as Branwen slowly opened the box. "Will you be my mate?" he asked as Branwen stared at the ring

First she blinked and then she smiled again. "You're asking me to marry you?" Branwen squealed and jumped into his arms. "Yes, of course! I will be delighted, and then we can have sex! I love you!"

Man'darr chuckled at Branwen's words. "I love you as well, Branwen. He then held her close to him as he kissed her passionately.

After a while she broke away from his kiss. “When can we marry, how soon? And where? Do you want family there?” The questions came out rapidly.

"Slow down, Branwen. The timing, I will leave up to you. Until this war is over, I doubt we will be able to get off the ship. If you wish to invite oyur family, you are welcome to do so...as I do not have any family."

She looked a little sad suddenly. “I can ask my sister, but it will depend on her command. The rest…. They wouldn’t come.” She held Dar close again. Certainly not as she was marrying an alien.

"It never hurts to ask, Branwen. Besides, you have plenty of friends here, aboard the Galaxy."

"I will ask my sister." She smiled again. "And you are right, we have many friends here, and I am sure they are all willing to come." She kissed him again. "I love you, and I want to marry you as soon as possible."

Man'darr smiled at Branwen. It made him happy to see Branwen this way. "When did you have in mind?"

“Tomorrow?” She said joking. “Naw seriously, as soon as possible, Dar. The first opportunity they give us. I don’t want to be apart from you any more.”

"I understand. Ask and see if your sister can come...and your family if you wish it and I am sure you will spare no time in informing your friends," he smiled. "Once that gets taken care of, we can then set a time. Did you want to stay for dinner? I still need to take a shower as well."

“Of course I want to stay. Go and have your shower and I will start working on the guest list.” She grinned. Bran would ask her sister but not the rest of her family.

'Damn, she really is in a hurry,' Man'darr thought. "Alright," he said with a grin as he removed his shirt and headed for the shower.

TBC....

"The Trial of Olivia Proctor - Part 1"

Sergeant Louise "Mouse" Markinson, SFMC Communications Specialist, USS Galaxy-A

Chief Petty Officer Lysandra Stuart, Cryptographer's Mate, USS Galaxy-A

with... Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, CO: Deep Space Five
Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja, Fleetmaster: 1st Sovereign Echelon
Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van, Shipmaster: IHV Hammer of Progress

****
Common Room, SFMC Barracks, USS Galaxy-A

Louise chewed absently on the end of her stylus, trying to focus on finishing her report to Colonel Arvelion. It was her turn to inventory the detachment's communication supplies, and she desperately needed to finish it before midnight. If she didn't have it on his desk by Alpha Shift, she'd catch hell. Unfortunately, that wasn't doing much to focus her attention.

The entire situation had her on edge. It didn't make sense. Why was Starfleet so unprepared for the Triad attack? They had been waiting for the hammer to drop for almost three years now. And yet here they were, supposedly the only ship in range to come to the defense of Deep Space Five, one of the most strategic locations on the Hydran border. Where was the rest of the 10th Fleet? What was Admiral Valerian doing?

And the waiting... it had taken them an eternity to warp from Vulcan to the edge of the Talvas Sector, en route to Corvallis. The days seemed to drag by, hoping that they would arrive in time to make a difference, or at least to catch the enemy before they dug in. And then they'd switched objectives, and gone to Deep Space Five, only to be forced to retreat by numerically superior Hydran forces. Why was a ship that was at Vulcan even being called to reinforce something on the other side of the Federation?

To make matters worse, at least for her, she hadn't heard from Henderson in over a month. The last thing she'd heard, he was on Earth for some kind of conference. Although she didn't have an assignment from her SFI handler right now, and in fact he was talking about reassigning her, she missed being able to ask him the questions she couldn't bring herself to ask the other officers. And boy did she have questions right now.

She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the inventory. Keep it together, Louise... She frowned, rereading the last few paragraphs that she'd written. The noise from the common room wasn't helping at all. I should probably be doing this in my rack.

"Mouse," a voice and a presence behind her caught her off guard, causing her to start and nearly knock over her chair.

Her face instantly flushed red, exposing her embarrassment to the handful of marines using the common room. Louise turned to glare at Lysa Stuart, one of her close friends. Trying to ignore the derisive snickering of her fellow troops, she growled, "I thought I told you not to call me that name, Spook." The anger in her voice rung very hollow, though. She wasn't fooling anyone. "What was so important?"

"You weren't answering your badge, and there's something you have to see," Lysa replied, snatching the remote for the entertainment screen that dominated one wall of the common room. She flicked the screen over to FNN, ignoring the shouted complaints of the soldiers who had been watching the football game. "The Hydrans are putting Admiral Proctor on trial for murder. They're broadcasting it from DS5. It's all over the news."

"Great Bird..." Louise swore, putting down the padd she'd been working on. The inventory would wait. Leaving her work at the side table, she slid into a seat next to Lysa and let the news feed absorb her.

The marines around her were settling down as they realized what had been turned on. One by one they all took a seat. The news ticker on the bottom of the feed bore out the grim message. ADMIRAL OLIVIA PROCTOR ON TRIAL AT DEEP SPACE FIVE. HYDRAN OFFICIALS CHARGE PROCTOR WITH MURDER OF SCIENTIST. STARFLEET UNABLE TO PROTECT THE OUTER RIM.

On the screen, a pair of Hydrans wearing the ceremonial armor of the Queen's Guard were escorting Admiral Proctor into a darkened room. A single spotlight illuminated a lone steel chair, positioned in the middle of the room. Proctor moved to stand in front of the chair, but when she did not immediately sit, the Hydrans shoved her roughly down, nearly knocking her onto the floor.

For a woman who had been a captive for some time, she looked remarkably healthy. The boxy woman's strong jaw was upturned in defiance at her Hydran tormentors. Louise knew next to nothing about her, other than that her handler hadn't thought very highly of her.

On the screen, Admiral Proctor stared into the darkness in front of her, where presumably the Hydran court was seated. It occurred to Louise that she had no idea what the Hydran judicial system was like. Did anyone in the Federation? What was the process? And was this going to even be a real trial, or was it just going to be a dog and pony show to strike fear into the hearts of the Starfleet officers fighting back against the invasion? Again, Louise was filled with questions that she couldn't answer. If this trial was a Hydran terror tactic, it was very effective. Already she felt very small and powerless.

A single light came on before Admiral Proctor, spotlighting an enormous Hydran female, encased in highly stylized blue battle armor. Many colorful decorations covered the three sleeves of her armor, perhaps military awards or rank insignia. Standing in the darkness behind her was another Hydran, which Louise could just barely make out. His appearance was a stark contrast to the female. Where she was short and wide, he was tall and thin. His slate grey armor was spartan by comparison to hers, without as many colorful bangles and filigree.

[Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, do you understand why you are here?] the big Hydran woman said, seating herself on a three legged stool.

Proctor stared at her captors, but did not say anything or provide any indication that she had understood the question.

[You are accused of the murder of a Hydran national, a scientist serving on the IHV Hammer of Progress. How do you respond to this accusation, Admiral?] the Hydran female asked, leaning forward on her stool to level her eyestalks at the human woman.

"Proctor, Olivia. Rank, Rear Admiral. Service Number 2338-78601-Zeta-Omicron," Proctor practically spat out the information. According to intergovernmental agreements between the Federation and many of the other greater powers, that was all the information she had to give. Louise wondered if the Hydrans had been party to that agreement.

The Hydran male moved with a speed that seemed almost unnatural. Without a word he charged past the Hydran female and struck Proctor across the jaw with two of his three fists, just as she was about to repeat her information. [That scientist had a mate, and children. That scientist was one of our most brilliant biochemists. That scientist was working on a cure for a deadly disease. That scientist had a name, Admiral! His name was Har'ja'fer, and it is his death that you answer for this day. You will respect his memory and answer the Fleetmaster's questions,] he bellowed, all three eyes focused and intense as he stood over the human.

Admiral Proctor looked, for a moment, as if she was going to repeat her information, when her resolve crumbled. She looked away, and Louise could see where blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth, and dark red bruising was beginning to form on her jaw.

"Yes. Yes, I killed your scientist. But I cannot be held responsible for his death. He attacked me with a weapon. I would have died if I hadn't pulled that trigger," Proctor sputtered. "It's true. The logs on your ship will prove it. I'm an officer of the Federation Starfleet. I'm a prisoner of war, not a criminal. I deserve better treatment than this..."

She continued on, the words pouring out of her in ways that sometimes made sense, and sometimes didn't. The Hydran male walked away, presumably leaving the chamber. The female, on the other hand, watched Admiral Proctor's panicked word vomit, a sadistic gleam in her three eyes.

[No, Admiral. You may be a prisoner of war. But you are also charged with a crime. Under Hydran law, you will be tried, and any punishment carried out, before you are registered as a captive combatant,] the Hydran female pronounced. [And I am Fleetmaster Mr'en'sja, master of the warships that took your precious station from you. I am the arbiter of justice, and your fate is in my hands.]

Louise watched it happen, and shuddered. Just as the news ticker had suggested, she felt a lot less safe. The whole world did.

OOC: My apologies in advance, this post contains a bit of cursing. If you'd like an edited copy, feel free to e-mail me. I'll be happy to make the effort to send you a PG version.

"30 Going On 13"

Lieutenant Rima Pennington, Strategist, Hydran Operations Think Tank, Starfleet Strategic Operations

with a special guest appearance by... Captain Cassius Henderson, Intelligence Handler: Hydran Sector

"Never win first place, I don't support the team, I can't take direction, and my socks are never clean, Teachers dated me, my parents hated me, I was always in a fight cuz I can't do nothin' right.

Everyday I fight a war against the mirror, I can't take the person starin' back at me, I'm a hazard to myself..." ~Pink, Don't Let Me Get Me

****
Apartment 514, 1040 O'Malley Avenue, Baltimore City, Earth

[...Penny? Hello, Penny? Come on... I just want to talk...]

The disembodied voice shattered the glorious silence in Rima Pennington's apartment, ruining any hope of having a peaceful morning. It was inevitable, really, that she would have to wake up, or at least relocate to somewhere darker and less noisy. But still... he had no right to be waking her this early the day after her birthday.

[Look, I know things were a little awkward... Penny, it's not my fault...]

Opening one eye, Rima forced herself to focus on her wall clock. 4:10 PM. Okay, so it wasn't exactly morning. Or early. But it was the day after her birthday, and she was suffering from the worst hangover she'd ever experienced. Those were definitely facts.

Rima growled and pulled the blanket over her head. Why the hell was Ryan at her apartment? Ryan wasn't supposed to even know where her apartment was. Had she told him? The previous night was a drunken haze... no way of knowing. They'd gone to the <CLUB>, then to Elly's place... and then what? Had they partied here?

Was I supposed to go to work today? Oh hell.

Groaning at her own immaturity and willful stupidity, Rima took stock of her situation. At her own apartment, on the futon in the living room, under a blanket. Catastrophically hung over. Clothed in violet silk panties, white button down blouse, black bra. Probably missed work. Ryan Branson waiting downstairs, wanting to come up.

What. The. Hell. Rima? Definitely time to put the intercom on do not disturb and go back to bed.

[Penny, I know you're up there. Let me up so we can... Hey, what the fu...]

The intercom let out an burst of static that made her want to gouge her eardrums with the nearest stylus. Or phaser. It sounded like somebody had put their hand over the microphone. And then a very different voice came from the receiver.

[Rima, I'm coming up.]

"Oh fuck."

That voice was one she recognized immediately. Cassius Henderson. A million questions immediately overwhelmed her synapses, temporarily pushing aside her hangover. I need to clean up. He's going to see me like this and assume that I'm just the same immature girl he knew on the Galaxy.

But would it be untrue?

In a fit of pique, Rima hurled the blanket across the room and swung her feet onto the floor... directly into the pile of broken glass. Pain seared through her body, up from the soles of her now torn up feet and into her hips, chest and brain. It was so sudden and so acute that it drove her to her knees, gasping for breath as her adrenaline went off. Only brute force of will kept her from biting through her tongue.

First aid kit. Quickly, he's coming. She crawled along the floor over to one of her pitifully disorganized shelves and grabbed for the first aid kit, just out of reach from her position on her knees. After what seemed like an eternity, two of her fingers caught the handle, knocking it down onto her shoulders, where it came open and spilled its contents onto the floor.

Why does it have to be now? Why couldn't he have come visit some other day, when she'd just gotten home from doing important work for the Federation, when she was feeling good about herself? Why does he always show up when I'm at my weakest? It's not fair. As tears welled up in her eyes, she didn't fight them, instead just curling into a sobbing ball on the floor, surrounded by a cloud of medical supplies.

Just let me bleed out before he gets here, she thought melodramatically.

Five minutes stretched out for an eternity before she heard his footsteps in the room. She didn't even have to ask how he got in. Barely raising her head, she couldn't even bring herself to attempt to make eye contact. "I'm so pathetic."

"No you're not," Captain Cassius Henderson, formerly of the USS Galaxy, replied, offering a supportive smile as he began to collect some of the things that had fallen out of the first aid kit. "Well, maybe right this instant. But not normally."

Rima's heart wrenched. There he was, with that soft spoken manner and that understated smile. Handsome, thoughtful, dutiful. Knowing that she'd had a chance to have him and thrown it away... No, she'd been too immature at the time, and the same reasons he'd pushed him away was the same reason that they wouldn't have worked out. It was for the best.

"I feel awful," she groaned, finally meeting his eyes.

"I imagine," Cass replied, thumbing through the medical supplies until he found the packet he wanted. Ripping it open, he dumped a pair of pills into his hand and extended them to Rima. "Here, take these."

Rima grimaced, but swallowed the medication. Almost immediately her headache began to fade as the chemicals began to purge the after-effect of last night's binge from her system. "How can I wallow in misery if I swallow away the pain through the magic of science?"

"You can't. That's the point," he replied with a straight face. He wanted to laugh at her, but it just didn't seem right. Picking out a few more items from her kit, he threw them onto the futon. The rest he dropped into the open box.

"What are you doing?" she asked, drying her tears on her sleeve. She snorted back phlegm into her nose, and immediately felt disgusting and unattractive again. Why did he always have to show up at times like this? Now he was bending over her, so close she could smell his hair and feel his chest against hers. What was he...

She yelped as he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the futon, keeping her off of her savaged feet. He laughed as he set her down, placing his hands on his hips in an imitation of a stern father. "You're a mess, Rima," Cass said, "But I'm here to help." Dropping to one knee, he began to tend to her feet, pulling chunks of glass out as she gritted her teeth.

"But how did you know I'd need it?" Rima sputtered, trying not to cry out as he removed the shards from her poor feet. "We haven't talked in over a year. Where have you even been?"

Applying an providone-iodine wipe to her feet, he shrugged. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. You know who I work for, Rima. I keep an eye on you, from time to time. Enough to know that you never miss work... strange as that is to say, given our history."

"Fuck, that hurts, Cassius," she said through clenched teeth as he rubbed her open wounds. "Isn't it illegal for you to look at my attendance records?"

"No. But that's not how I did it. That would require me to fill out paperwork. I just asked Admiral Barr how you were doing," he shrugged, running a tissue reconnector over her wounds. "The Japanese ninja have a saying. Why teach a man to walk through walls when you can teach them to find the right door."

"Ninjas. You've got to be kidding me," Rima fixed him with a dubious stare, clenching her fists to distract herself from the tingling coming from her feet. He was now running a dermal regenerator, closing the skin over the tissue. Her feet would be sore for days, but at least she hadn't had to leave home.

Cassius grinned, "Yep... ninjas. By the way... those are cute panties."

She nearly kicked him in the face.

****
Apartment 514, 1040 O'Malley Avenue, Baltimore City, Earth

About an hour later, Rima had showered and put on clean clothes (including pants!) and was generally feeling more human. Cassius had straightened up the living room, wiping up the blood and glass from her floor and picking up the furniture she'd probably tossed around in her drunken haze the night before.

They carried out the familiar routine in silence. Him taking care of her. Her pretending that she was unhappy to see him. Finally she'd broken down and started cooking dinner. Living on her own again had given her time to dip into her secret love of cooking again It was probably better fare than he'd have again in the next year. Martha Stewart, eat your cold, rotted heart out.

"So who is Penny?" Cass asked, dropping onto the futon. The cleaning was finally complete and he could feel the exhaustion draining into the couch. It had been a long day, even before he'd come to see Rima - an experience that was always draining. With war breaking out in his intelligence sector, he had been run ragged for the past few days. Sitting in her apartment for an hour was the most time he'd been able to spend neither working nor sleeping since the first shots had been fired at Deep Space Three.

Rima hesitated. How much could she really tell him. Would knowing drive him off again? "My roommate? No. Don't give me that look. I don't really expect you to believe that. I go by Penny sometimes, when I'm out on my own. How did you get Ryan to leave?"

"I told him to leave," Cass said, shrugging.

Standing behind the counter, Rima gave him an incredulous look, her hands on her hips. "Sure. You just told him to go away. No fascist disappearance? No stockade?"

"No, seriously. I told him to leave. For some reason, people don't really argue with Starfleet captains," Cass quipped, appreciating the laughter that elicited from Rima. "One of many perks. So who's Ryan?"

Rima groaned, but ladled out soup into two bowls and carried them over to the couch. "Ryan is... Well, I was seeing Ryan... I mean dating and the like. He's well intentioned, I guess, but kind of a jerk. I'm over him... he doesn't really get that."

"He should now," Cassius replied ominously. The confusion on her face made him explain more thoroughly. "I have two members of Federation Security assigned to me. They're standing outside your door at the moment. Between that and this..." He tugged at the black collar on his uniform. "... I'm a little intimidating to the average citizen."

"Good grief, Cassius," Rima shook her head, sipping pensively at her soup. As secretly excited as she was to see him, this was about the most uncomfortable situation she could possibly be in. "So... to what do I owe the visit?"

"Well..." Cassius paused in thought, determining the best way to go about this. It was important, but she wasn't going to like it. "I need you to return to a shipboard duty in combat command."

"You've got to be kidding," Rima almost choked on her soup. Back into space? Wasn't the work here important enough? "I'm happy here, Cassius. I don't have any desire to be an explorer. I want to get up, go to work, talk about how to blow up Hydrans, maybe run some simulations, then come home and sleep."

"You're one of the foremost authorities on Hydran tactics. You're also the only one young enough to still act in the field," Cassius explained further. "The theories you've helped develop have to be tested, and unlike Barr and Nedra, you're young enough to do it by your own hand."

Rima whimpered, putting down her soup bowl. Her appetite was gone. "I don't want to actually kill people, Cassius," she argued. "This life is easy. I don't have to kill people. I don't have to be subject to time warps, alien plots, weird space... thingies... I'm safe here."

"For now," he said, ominously. "We're at war now. You've seen the news. And, surprise surprise, we're not winning. And we're not going to be unless we can organize our operations, develop new tactics, and test those tactics. That's why Starfleet needs you on a ship in Hydran Sector Command, not in a cushy loft apartment in Baltimore."

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" she asked. Cassius always wanted her to push herself, to act selflessly and do her duty. To be a citizen-soldier, like him. It wasn't the life she wanted, but it was the life she'd been pushed into. As attractive as he was, there were times when she thought of him as a better intentioned version of her father.

Cassius shrugged. "I can't order you to do it. You have to request the transfer yourself. I can only explain to you why should."

"But you'll argue with me until I do it, right?"

"I'll argue until I don't see anything to be gained by arguing further."

"Let me think about it, okay?" she sighed, picking up the soup bowl again. The thought of going back into space was mentally exhausting. At Strategic Operations and the Starfleet War College, where she was teaching a class, the chain of command was much easier and more forgiving. There were two full commanders and captain on her subcommittee at work. An admiral was taking her class.

In the field, discipline was much more strictly enforced. She wouldn't be an academic. She would be a soldier, a killer. But he did have a point. Her work would likely do more good in the field. "Where would you want to send me?"

"I was thinking department head on the USS Galaxy. Corran Rex is running the department there now. He's a friend of mine, and one who's having trouble coping with some things right now," Cassius said. She was caving, and as much as he regretted making her leave her comfortable life, it pleased him. In the end, it would be better for everyone. "I think I can convince him to request a transfer, or better yet some leave time."

"You've got to be kidding me, Cassius... You're crazy," she rolled her eyes at the thought of their former ship. "The Galaxy? Why would you want me to go back there? How many times did we nearly die on the Galaxy?"

"How many times did we actually die?"

She paused, silenced. Did he not remember? "Once. We died once, Cassius. It's my most vivid memory. Standing on the bridge, next to you at the tactical plot. The explosion. What I told you..." She trailed off.

"I do remember. But I am here, and so are you. We survived," he said, moving the conversation past that particular memory. He remembered it just as clearly as she did. The way she had buried her head in his chest and confessed her love just as the deadly shockwave had hit them. How he had thrown her to the deck and tried to shield her from the explosions that filled the bridge. The world going dark. "The fact is, Captain M'Kantu is a good commanding officer who will give listen to you despite your early record. The Galaxy is also a ship that, while part of 10th Fleet and Hydran Sector Command, is given a fair amount of independence by Admiral Valerian."

"Who we don't trust," Rima said, remembering a conversation they'd had a long time ago. "Because his role in the Gryphon disaster was very ambiguous."

"Exactly," Cassius replied.

"Fine," she allowed herself to cave in. There was, she admitted, a part of her that wanted to be back in space. One that found the idea of being in Cassius Henderson's old job, on his old ship, in the place they had met, appealing. It would be very satisfying to prove to all the nay-sayers that she could run a department and be a model officer. "I'll do it. But only because you've been better to me than I've really deserved and I owe you."

And I still want to be with you. It went without saying, and she never would say it. That much she had decided. That ship had sailed and it was her lot to regret it. They were never working closely enough to really have a second change.

"Good," Cassius nodded, but didn't read past what she said or acknowledge her further. "Turn on FNN," he said softly, as if speaking to a third party in a two person conversation. In his head, a colleague at SFI was telepathically communicating important information to him.

She was about to complain, to shout at him for not paying attention when she was making a serious decision about her life, when the image on the screen caught her attention. A young Bolian woman was announcing a piece of breaking news.

"This afternoon a broadcast began transmission from the site of Starfleet border outpost Deep Space Five, which was recently captured by the Hydran Sovereignty. According to the supposedly live broadcast, Admiral Olivia Proctor, the station's commanding officer, is being placed on trial under Hydran law for the murder of a Hydran officer. We'll have excerpts from today's broadcasts for you a few minutes."

"Is SFI going to attempt a rescue?" Rima asked, placing her hand on his. He looked shaken. A surprise attack they could easily respond to. Psychological warfare like this was something else entirely.

Cassius shook his head. "I'm not sure. The Hydrans are talking about a two day trial, with her execution on the third day, after she's found guilty. And she is guilty. Let alone the fact that I was there, and saw her vaporize that Hydran. The fact is that this is a show trial, with a show execution. Unless we can get a very serious field team into position, which is unlikely, then she died. And publically."

"You probably need to be going..."

Cassius nodded, pushing himself up from the couch. "I do. My assistant can do the initial work, but I need to be back at HQ to make the final call."

Rima took his hand and walked him over to the door. Seeing him for the first time in almost a year has been surreal, especially with the visit taking place on the eve of a full blown shooting war. "Cassius..."

"I know. We can talk about it some other time. I'll be in touch with your transfer orders," he said, folding the slightly younger woman in his arms. "Just make sure you get the paperwork in."

"I will," she assured him, although that part of her that liked being comfortable and not being pushed railed against the idea. The feeling of his arms around her was even more convincing than his words had been. Perhaps there was still a chance?

After what seemed like a pleasant eternity, Cassius stepped away and opened the door. Outside the window, a flash of light lit up the skyline as the sky opened up over Baltimore. A second later, the sound of thunder ripped through the silence of her apartment.

Cassius turned and smiled at her, even as his guards began to fall in behind him. "Happy birthday, Rima." He offered her a mock salute, then turned and began to head down the hall. She heard the hum of a transporter before she'd even shut the door.

He was gone. Feeling a little weak kneed, she wandered back over to the couch and lay back down. The image on the screen, of a little box shaped woman glaring defiantly at her Hydran captors, transfixed her, and she found she couldn't look away.

Back to the front lines. Not her best birthday present.

But then, that was Cassius Henderson.

tbc...

OOC - All PCs and NPCs used without permission.

"Waiting On The Thunderbolt"

Stardrive: Capt. Daren M'Kantu, CO
Lt. Saul Bental, Acting Tactical Officer
Lt. Raven Darkstar, Helm
Lt. Michael Jamson, Operations

Saucer: Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. JG T'Rehn, Ops (NPC)
Lt. JG Chase Remur, Tactical
CPO Berilyn Suum, Transporter Chief
Capt. Jaal Jaxom, CO, USS Carthage

Hammer of Progress: Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja - Fleetmaster of the 1st Hydran Echelon
Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van - Shipmaster of the IHV Hammer of Progress

*****

USS Galaxy Saucer Section Main Bridge

"Helm, bring us about. Ops, prepare for transport."

The pair of Vulcans seated at the front of the bridge nodded in unison and continued to silently tap away at their consoles. The image on the main viewer rotated down and to the left as the position of the saucer section changed, its bulk once more hurtling toward the huge bulk of Deep Space Five that dominated the center of the screen.

"Ten seconds to intercept," Lt. JG T'Rehn called out from the Ops console.

"Understood. Chief, ready for transport?"

The disembodied voice of CPO Berilyn Suum replied over the comm a split second later. "Ready, Commander."

Iniara nodded slightly, focusing her attention on the small counter at the bottom left of the screen, watching the number tick down as they came within transporter range. At the center of the screen, the image of the station grew ever larger, overwhelming the dozens of smaller vessels that darted about around it.

"Lower shields, begin transport," the XO called out as she watched the red counter give way to a series of flashing green zeros.

Once more, time seemed to slow as the crew went into action. The process would take only a few seconds, but in that time the Galaxy's saucer section was a sitting duck. With four Hydran capital ships, countless fighters, and the station's own weapons threatening the Galaxy's two halves, there was a good chance that things could go downhill very quickly.

Blood thudded loudly in her ears as Iniara watched the crew work. The pair of Vulcans, T'Rehn and Selana, worked as calmly and efficiently as they always had, reminding Iniara once again why she had chosen them to man the bridge during this battle. So long as the two officers most in control of the ship remained level-headed and collected, the rest of the bridge crew, and by extension the rest of the ship's crew, would follow their example. That made her job a lot easier.

"Transport complete!"

The voice of Galaxy's transporter chief cut through her thoughts, snapping her focus back to the present. She opened her mouth to speak, realizing only then that she had been holding her breath throughout the entire process. Curious, she thought, I wonder--

"Incoming hellbore fire!"

Iniara tensed, the hairs on her neck standing on end as she reflexively clutched the arms of her chair, calling out orders in rapid-fire succession. "Divert all available power to the shields! Evasive maneuvers! Tactical, return fire!"

Once more the crew went into action, T'Rehn and Selana working in concert to protect the ship while behind her at the tactical arch Chase Remur tapped furiously at her console, sending the full might of the Galaxy's offensive systems screaming back at the Hydrans.

A split second later the immediate area crackled with light, hellbore fire dancing along the saucer's shields as a full spread of photon torpedoes impacted along the shields of the Shield of Resolution. On the bridge, lights and consoles flickered as the shields struggled to absorb the massive amounts of energy. The display flickered out, then popped back to life just in time to show a stomach-turning display as the saucer darted wildly away, evading Hydran fire and fighters.

"Report!"

"Shields are down to twenty three percent strength, 'Commander," T'Rehn stated. Immediately after, Lt. JG Remur called out, "Twelve torpedoes remaining. It should be enough to bring down their shields."

"Do it, Chase," Iniara replied coldly. "Fire at will. Tear them apart."

Seconds later, CPO Suum chimed in. "Commander Tarin, all personnel needing transport are present and accounted for."

The XO allowed herself a small sigh of relief. "Good to hear, Chief. T'Rehn, status of the hoppers?"

"They are departing the station now." As T'Rehn spoke, Iniara watched with satisfaction as the icon representing Shield of Resolution began to flash red-- her shields were down and now she was taking heavy damage from Galaxy's phaser banks. "Time to rendezvous...four minutes, forty three seconds."

"Good. Chase, keep it up. Mr. Klein, get me the captain."

****

USS Galaxy Stardrive Section Battle Bridge

The Stardrive Section shuddered again as a wing of fighters made a pass and hammered an array of fusion beams and hellbores into it. While the fighters were individually not a threat, in a concerted, mass attack, that their status changed, making them a problem to worry about. Galaxy's own fighters were stretched thin, having to cover both the Saucer and Stardrive sections in two disparate locations, and consequently - especially with Hydran capital ships still in the fight - too many of the smaller Hydran craft were able to slip in past point-defense fire and dispense their ordinance.

With Light of Vindication out of the fight after their last exchange of fire, the heavy carrier floating dead in space with her hangar bays blown out and engines destroyed, and Slarrardo moving to engage the ships powering up in the shipyards, the fighters - and Hammer of Progress, the remaining capital ship engaging them - were the only thing preventing them from rejoining the Saucer section.

"Mr. Bental," Daren asked without looking up from the plot, "give Hammer of Progress another volley of torpedoes, please. Target her engines - we're going to be moving soon and I'd like to keep pursuit to a minimum. Once she's crippled, divert your attention to sweeping some of those fighters out of the sky. We're running out of time."

"Aye, sir," Saul responded tersely, programming in a volley to strike in succession of hammer blows one after another on the carrier's engines. "Volley away."

The torpedoes began to slam into the carrier's shields, battering them down to the point that the last two scored direct hits on the hull; penetrating to wreak havoc on the Hydran vessel. As Hammer of Progress heeled over, her speed dropping markedly and a gout of plasmic fire trailing off from her aft section, a wash of fire from DS5 seared through the vacuum, narrowly missing the Secondary Hull and causing several Hydran fighters that failed to avoid it to vanish in the barrage as the gunners on the starbase struggled to adapt to manual targeting.

"Helm, evasive action," Daren snapped. "Priority on evading fire from the starbase, ignore the carrier for now."

"Commencing evasive action against starbase fire," Darkstar rumbled, his giant hands working in controlled movements that seemed slow when taken individually, until one realized how quickly the total number of instructions to the helm being made was rising.

"Commander Tarin for you," Jamson sang out from the Operations console.

"Give it to me in the upper left quadrant of the plot," Daren replied, attention still on the battle.

****

Hammer of Progress Main Bridge

"We've lost dorsal shields!" an officer clicked through her chattering beak. Sparks exploded out from a conduit that ran across the length of the bridge of the Hammer of Progress.

"Curses! Seeder of the Stars, it is one ship! One! How has it ripped through our forces like this!" Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van commanded from his central chair.

"The computer still cannot get a lock. Their ship still reads as one of our own," the officer explained.

"That is not a reason! Even a hatchling can point and shoot," Kedr'ni'van cried.

He felt a smooth tentacle trace along his shoulder. "I would be careful about what you say, Gral'Meshketh," Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja, the fleet master said from behind him. She had departed her ship, the Light of Vindication, to come aboard his for a strategy meeting when the Federation ship attacked. "You compare yourself and the abilities of your crew to those of hatchlings. If you fail to destroy this ship, then that comparison will have been proven accurate. What leniency can you then expect from me?"

He growled under his breath and clicked his beak in anger. "Fire again! Curse it, I want that ship destroyed!"

The tactical officer complied and unleashed a near fully charged blast of hellbore. He watched on his view screen as the red plasma fire lanced out from his ship and raced towards the Federation ship at nearly the speed of light, only to see it lightly skim its belly.

"Their ship is too maneuverable, its evading our fire," his tactical officer offered meekly.

"Your incompetence is unbecoming of a Gral'Meshketh," Mr'en'sja said from behind him.

He roared in anger, having lost all patience, squeezing the ends of his chair arms so tightly, they shattered. "Where is the Slarrardo? Get that damned royal knave back here now! Those ships he went chasing after offer no threat, only distraction. We've played right into the human's plans!"

His officers did not respond. They were interrupted, rocked by another severe explosion on their hull.

****

USS Galaxy Stardrive Section Battle Bridge

On the main bridge, the face of Galaxy's CO appeared on the auxiliary console to the left of the center seat. "Captain," Iniara began, swiveling the screen towards her, "all personnel to be transported have made it over. We're waiting on the hoppers and fighters; ETA in under five minutes." The screen flickered for a moment before she continued. "Shields are at 23 percent and we're out of photon torpedoes. However, the majority of the fighters have either been disabled or ceased pursuit of us to defend their carrier and the Starbase."

"I can see them," Daren nodded. "The ships from the yard have already departed, and the Slarrardo is still in the shipyards, dealing with the few ships that managed to get their holographic officers active, so she won't be a threat, either." He adjusted the plot's view. "Use rendezvous point Gamma - that looks like it will give us the best cover from fire by the starbase by putting the returning fighters and Hammer of Progress between us and it while we dock; they're going to hit something sooner or later by sheer chance, and I'd rather it wasn't us."

"Captain M'Kantu," a voiced called out over the intercom, "This is Captain Jaal Jaxom, formerly of the Carthage. I want to urge you to get your ship out of here as quickly as possible. With the help of your wife, we've sabotaged the computer core and power controls on the station. It's going to explode in about five minutes."

"That will give us about a minute to make our escape," Iniara responded, checking her tactical display. Lt. JG Selana was already plotting a new proposed flight path, one that had the ship's halves docking just in time to gather the remaining smaller craft and make their escape. "Recommend we initiate docking procedures immediately. We can pick up the hoppers and fighters on our way out; we'll need their defensive support while the ship is dead in the water."

Daren nodded. "Helm, take us to Rendezvous Point Gamma at best possible speed - we're going to have to do a manual docking, there's no time for the computer to handle it for us. That means we'll only get one try, so make it count."

"Rendezvous Point Gamma in one minute," Darkstar returned, sounding almost offended at the thought that he'd need more than one try. "Ready for manual docking on your signal."

"Manual docking?" Iniara questioned.

"Manual," Daren nodded. "The computer takes three minutes, but a good pilot can do it in seventy seconds, and we need all the time we can get.

"Manual docking, aye," the Bajoran responded, the communication winking out as she turned to her own crew and started barking orders.

****

Hammer of Progress Main Bridge

"Follow them!" Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van cried. Instead of a surge forwards, his ship slowed. "Follow them!"

"Shipmaster, the engines have failed. We've lost all forward movement."

"What?!" he shouted.

"You've failed the sovereignty," Qelereth'Meshketh Mr'en'sja said calmly. "Officer, contact the Light of Vindication. See if they have been able to restore their engines."

"They have," came the response, after a moment.

Mr'en'sja nodded. She looked to Kedr'ni'van, "Such is the ability of a competent crew. Contact them. Tell them their Qelereth'Meshketh orders them to resume the fight."

"Yes, Fleetmaster."

****

USS Galaxy Saucer Section Main Bridge

"Commander, docking procedures are complete," Selana reported from the Helm station. Even though she was a Vulcan, the unmistakable sound of admiration at Darkstar's piloting echoed in her voice. "Elapsed time... sixty-eight seconds."

Next to her, T'Rehn continued the report, "All systems are functioning within normal limits. Docking clamps are holding with one hundred percent strength."

"Captain," the XO called out, "I am transferring ship's control to you. T'Rehn, transfer the bridge controls to the Battle Bridge."

"Aye, 'Commander," the Vulcan replied, tapping at her console once more. "Full control has been transferred to the Battle Bridge."

"Control received," Darkstar reported. "Assuming full Helm control for ship."

Daren watched as the Hydran carrier, the Light of Vindication, chased after them with her restored engines. With the added weight of the saucer section, they were no longer as quick and maneuverable. Fortunately, they no longer had to be. They were done here, and he was about order them to warp away, but there was one thing he wanted to do first.

The Light of Vindication was following them, and was catching up to them. But, between them and the Galaxy lay Deep Space Five. And he knew something that the Hydrans obviously didn't.

"Just a bit more," he said quietly. Allah might not be in the business of dispensing thunderbolts on demand, but if one knew when one would arrive beforehand, there was nothing wrong with luring an opponent into its range.

"Sir, we should get out of here," Saul suggested behind him. "The station is going to blow."

"I know, Lieutenant, I know. Give me the estimated destructive radius of DS5 when it detonates on the plot, and put it on the main screen" Daren said, one eye on the distance of the Hydran ship, one on the estimated countdown.

The Dutchman worked his console and the plot appeared on the main screen, echoed on the Main Bridge many decks above them. A circle of red appeared a moment later, surrounding the icon representing DS5 and almost swallowing the slowly-moving one that represented the Light of Vindication as she moved to pursue Galaxy, allowing everyone on the bridge to see why he was waiting.

"There," Daren nodded as Light of Vindication entered the radius of destruction. "Helm, warp us out of here."

"Aye sir," the Native American said, initiating the sequence.

****

Hammer of Progress Main Bridge

"The Federation ship has warped out of the system," an officer announced.

"Curses," Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van said, falling back in his chair.

"Fear not, Gral'Meshketh," Mr'en'sja said, her pose relaxed and confident. "Let them retreat. They've left us our prize. We have the station." She stepped forward, looking on the viewscreen at her ship, the Light of Vindication, as it moved toward the gleaming white Federation station which they now fully controlled.

Then, without warning, sirens erupted from the sensor stations in an attempt to warn the ship's crew of impending disaster an instant before the station exploded.

Instantaneously, the white gem was replaced by a ball of yellow, orange fire, as bright as mini-nova, and just as big. A spherical shock blast extended out, a blue, white wave of destruction, and struck the limping Hydran ship. And, in another instant, the Light of Vindication erupted, leaving nothing left but its namesake.

Gral'Meshketh Kedr'ni'van stood from his chair, his pose now calm and confident, and stepped towards his Fleetmaster. "Yes, Qelereth'Meshketh, they have indeed left us with our prize. The Queen will be pleased."

She glared at him, her eyes slitted in anger. She clicked her beak once, hard, and stormed off the bridge.

"A Welcome Sight"

Midshipman Aina Mason - Communications Officer

***** A long distance from the station after the battle on the USS Bonestell *****

The rag tag fleet of computer controlled vessels, and the USS Bonestell and the tiny Vanguard fighter were in the darkness of deep space. The stars were pinpoints of bright light and all on board were wondering what had happened at DS5. The only communications to the Galaxy were the message to let them know where they were going.

The mood on the bridge of the Oberth class ship was sombre as they waited, and as in all battles, the waiting was as bad as the fighting itself.

The computer controlled vessels were quiet, there was hardly any telementry - that left little for Aina to do but just listen, listen for an indication of a communications or any form of signal. She had turned off the signal filter, so from the comms earpiece, she could hear the rumbling, squeals and whistles of space around her.

She heard a loud glissando followed by what could have been described as a electronic scream, she gave a slight wince and she frowned trying to work out what she was hearing. Looking at the time index on her panel, she had a slight smile as she quietly 'ha' to herself - she worked out what it was - it had been DS5, the explosion that was the power core releasing radiation in all frequencies, both GME and subspace - that had been it's death that she heard.

There was a quiet beep, that Aina almost missed in her earpiece - there was an incoming communications to the Bonestell - identcodes said it was from the Galaxy. Activating the signal filter again and confirming the signal, she called out, "Doctor M'Kantu - We've an incoming message from the Galaxy - It's from Captain M'Kantu."

June seemed to perk up at the name of her husband and she just nodded - Aina transferred it to the main screen and the image of Captain M'Kantu filled the screen.

Even as the two talked, space outside suddenly filled with blue light as the damaged USS Galaxy warped in - and while Aina couldn't see it from her console - it was vivid in her imagination and right now, it was a most welcome sight.

"Gags"

~One running gag comes to an end, and another one begins~

Thyago Carneiro
Nathan Everett

Thyago made his way through the crowds of people rescued from DS5 as they settled in for the next several days, until they could be dropped off at the next nearest starbase. Most of them would leave, to start a new life somewhere else, or to continue with the one they had before. Some of them would stay, like Max, the medic, and Cowboy, who were destined for this ship to begin with.

Thyago didn't know what would happen to him, exactly. He was on DS5 awaiting his next assignment, a ship, to arrive. A ship that would never come. Not because DS5 had been destroyed, or because it, the ship, had been destroyed, but because it never existed in the first place. The ship had been decomissioned five years ago.

But right now, he wasn't looking for a new home. He was simply looking for someone he knew.

For what seemed like the millionth time in the past five minutes, Cowboy felt like his life was being squeezed out of him as one of the many refugees hugged him for all they were worth, thanking the pilot profusely for his part in helping them escape the Hydrans.

"No, really, it was nothin'," Nathan wheezed, gently patting the middle-aged woman on the back and gratefully sucking in a breath of air when she finally released him. He turned, hoping to make his escape, and jumped in surprise as he suddenly remembered Mickey, who was following Cowboy as he tried to flee from the crowd.

The heavyset rodent-man eyed Nathan and then looked about, sniffing the crowded air doubtfully. "BAAAAAAAAN!" he demanded.

"Ah'm tryin', dammit!" an aggrieved Nathan explained. "These people won't let me go!" He turned and tried to push his way through the crowd. Before he could get very far, he was accosted by another civilian, a woman closer to his age, who actually planted a kiss on Cowboy's lips.

Nathan grinned at the woman, and in just about any other situation he probably would have eagerly returned her kiss, but right now, all he wanted to do was get away from this maddening crowd.

It wasn't exactly how he'd expected to react to being a hero--in the past Cowboy would have welcomed such attention, relished in the fact that so many people looked to him as their savior. Nathan had changed in recent months, however, much as he preferred not to admit it. It started with his relationship with Rena Starburst back on the Miranda, but Nathan hadn't really acknowledged that he'd changed until he became stuck on the Hydran-occupied Deep Space Five. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but then again, he doubted that anybody would truly welcome such a drastic shift in their mindset.

Suddenly, someone leapt on his back, wrapping their legs around his waist and their arms around his neck. "Haha! Hey, Deadwood! You made it out alive!" the man shouted into his ear. Someone with a distinct Brazilian accent.

Cowboy stumbled in surprise, but then laughed as he recognized the voice. "Was there ever any doubt?" he asked, grinning at Thyago as he looked over his shoulder at him. "Ah see you somehow managed to survive the ordeal, too. How many Marines'd you have to hide behind to pull that off?"

"None. Only a little girl and the captain's wife," he said proudly.

"Ah'm proud of you," the pilot muttered, rolling his eyes. "So what exactly'd you do, anyway?"

"I had to make a ship go all by myself. Remember, that's why I had to leave this thing with you," Thyago said, pointing to the large hunch-backed, snaggle-toothed mouse-like creature. Mickey seemed to sniff the air more and more, gradually recalling the pleasant scent of the Brazilian's hair, following his nose until it hovered just above the sandy blonde strands. "What happened to the station?"

"BAAAAAAAAN!" Mickey cried.

"It went bang?" Thyago echoed, "You guys blew it up?"

"Yeah," Nate said, "and you can get off me now, by the way."

"Oh, right," Thyago said, sliding off the pilot's back and onto the floor.

"Thank you," Cowboy said, turning to look down at the Brazilian. "Ah wasn't there fer the plannin', but Ah guess Cap'n Jaxom, Colonel Arvelion, and everyone else figured it was best to destroy DS5 rather'n let the Hydrans have it." He shook his head. "Ah dunno what exactly happened, Ah was just worried about flyin' as many of the wounded outta there as Ah could."

"Oh," Thyago said sadly. "Man, I wish I could have seen it. I love explosions. Normally, I'm the one that causes them."

"BAAAAAAAAN!"

"Yeah, yeah, Mick, bang, boom," Thyago said, waving the alien off.

"BAAAAAAAAN! BAAAAAAAAN!" it shouted, running off down the corridor.

"What the hell's he goin' all loony about?" Cowboy wondered.

Thyago shrugged and walked after the alien, curious about where he had run to.

"BAAAAAAAAN!"

"BOOOOOOOON!"

"BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!"

"Whoa!! Look!!" Thyago shouted, pointing as Mickey ran up to two more of its own kind. One was just as tall as Mickey was, just as hunch-backed and just as snaggle-toothed, but wore a red ribbon around a tuft of wirey hair. The second was about half their size, half as hunch-backed, but twice as snaggle-toothed. The three hugged and shouted, 'BAAAAAAAAN,' 'BOOOOOOOON,' and 'BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM,' once more.

"Awww!," Thyago cried, overcome with cuteness, "They're a family! Look, there's Mickey and Minnie and their kid, uh... little Speedy Gonzales. Awwww!"

"Speedy Gonzales?" Nate asked. "Why's the little one Latin American?"

"There's nothing wrong with being Latin American," Thyago snapped suddenly.

"Ah didn't say there was," Nathan said defensively. "Latin American women're *hot,* man. Lahk that one model from Saturn, Sanrevelle or whatever her name is..."

Thyago looked incredulously at the drooling American.

"What?" Nathan asked, blinking.

"Sanrevelle Alessandra Solange Carneiro?" Thyago asked, using the model's full name. "My sister?"

"She's yer sister? *Really?*" Cowboy's eyes widened as he stared down at the Brazilian, and then he laughed, clapping Thyago on his shoulder. "Well hot damn, T, you gotta introduce us! Ah've had a thing fer that girl fer the longest tahm!"

Thyago laughed, "Aha aha aha, no!"

"Why not?" Cowboy demanded.

"Um, because she'll sleep with you," Thyago explained.

"Not really seein' the problem, here..."

"Yeah, no, no way. It's not gonna happen, because, you know what? Nao deixo que voce se encontra com a minha irma. Nao o quero transar com ela. Ela fodeu com todos os meus amigos e tenho sempre que ouvir falar disso. Perturba-me muito, pois ja nao vou incentiva-lo mais. Seriamente!" Thyago ranted. "Besides, you're totally ruining the moment. A family is being reunited here and your talking about pillaging mine. Let's save the 'knowing my sister' gag for Speedy."

"BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!"

"Right..." Nathan said, raising an eyebrow at the family reunion. "Well, we oughta give 'em some privacy," he added, steering Thyago away from the three snaggleteeth. They hadn't gotten very far before he started in on the engineer's sister again.

"C'mon, T, Ah took Mickey off yer hands so you could go do whatever it was. You owe me one!"

"Well, its a good thing we're no where near Titan," Thyago said. "I can introduce you to some other models if you want."

"Nevermind, Ah'm just givin' you a hard tahm," Nathan replied, finally noticing Thyago's discomfort about the topic. He looked around as they walked, observing the joyous survivors, then glanced at Thyago again, noting the look on his face.

"So, uh...now that we're all safe and sound, what're you gonna do?" he asked. "You gonna keep waitin' fer that phantom ship to come?"

"I don't know," Thyago replied. "I imagine they'll discover the mistake once they try to figure out how I'm going to get there from here. When they give me orders to make my way to Deep Space Somethingsomething, ta ligado? I was thinking of hanging around here. What are you going to do?"

"Uh, prob'ly stick around, since this is mah new home anyway."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Do you get your own quarters?"

"Yeah..."

"Ooohhh," Thyago hummed, "See, 'cause, technically I'm not supposed to be on this ship, I'm probably supposed to leave with the rest of these guys. So, I don't actually have a place to stay."

"That's rough, man," Nathan said, shaking his head. "Where the hell're you s'posed to sleep?"

"I was thinking, on your couch."

"What?" Nathan asked, blinking.

"Come on, Deadwood. You're not going to kick me out onto the street, are you?"

"'Course not, but...Ah dunno, man, wouldn't that be kinda weird? Ah mean..."

"I'll let you meet my sister," Thyago offered.

Cowboy paused, and stared at Thyago, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No you won't," he finally said.

"Yeah, okay, you're right," he said, "but, I still need a place to sleep."

The pilot sighed. "Alright, fine, Ah s'pose you can crash there fer a while," he muttered.

"Awesome," Thyago exclaimed. "So, where do you live?"

Nathan frowned. "Y'know, that's a damn good question..."

OOC: Takes place immediately after Proposal.

"Making Plans"

Branwen London

&

Man'darr Maivia

“Hon?” Bran called out a couple of hours later coming towards her fiancée with a notepad. “I think I have the complete list of invites here. If you want to look it ov er and add your own?”

Man'darr finished taking care of the dishes after their dinner, and sat down next to Branwen on the sofa. "I cannot think of anyone.&n bsp; My family are gone...and my allies and friends are mo stly on Capella Four. I see that you did not invite your family, exce pt for your sister," he said as he looked over the list.

“No, I didn’t. They won’t come anyway. But what about your friends. We can wait if you want them here. It is important for me that there are people here who are important to you.” She put her head on his shoulder.

"No, it is fine. Capella is far away, we are in the middle of a war, and they are still busy with reorganizing the political factors with the new Teer. So, have you decided when yet?"

“No that is something we have to do together?” She said. “What do you think?” As Bran wanted it as fast as possible she would be guided by him. Dar was a little bit more levelheaded in this.

Man'darr was quiet for a long moment. Being in a war meant they would not be able to get away from the ship and there was no telling when the next shore leave would be, and with Branwen wanting to get married soon, it would have to be abaord the ship. "I su ppose whenever the plans can be taken care of, we cou ld have it. If I r emember my knowledge of human mating ritulas, there i s alot of planning involved."

“It depends.” She smiled. “Some people make a big deal out of it. Others are content with a five minute ceremony. I would think that we fall somewhere in between. Most of our friends are here on the ship so maybe we can just have a ceremony and a party here.”

"Thats sounds reasonable. When will you inform your friends?"

“You tell me.” She grinned. “So when are we going to do it? We will have to ask the captain to perform the ceremony as well. And I want two witnesses.”

"Well, I suppose it is whenever the captain and your friends are availiable to attend. Perhaps within two weeks since I know you are anxious to get married."

“Shall we discuss it with the captain. And who do you want as witnesses?” The PADD came out again.

"It is up to you, as you know more people. But I believe your friend, Dhanista would be a good choice for a witness.

“Dhani is mine together with Victor, but I want you to pick the people you really like for yourself.”

Man'darr let out a small sigh. "I am not all that close with anyone aboard the ship except for yourself. The people that I do know are through my duties."

"There must be some people you feel closer to. Maybe some marines?" She asked him.

"Only through my duties. Invite those you wish to, Branwen. It does not make any difference to me," he replied with a grin.

"You should try to make some friends, friends are important." She lightly chided him. "But what about witnesses?"

"Most people who see me, tend to avoid me. I believe they think that since I am Capellan, I will get angry at them and kill them or some such nonsense as a Klingon would do. I thought we had decided on your friends Victor and Dhanishta." Human mating rituals were much too complicated.

“For my witnesses. But I want you to feel included as well.” She hugged him close. “You have to give people a chance, hun. Victor also thinks he is scary and he is such a cutie. People are much more tolerant and understanding then you think they are.”

"I cannot think of any, except for Colonel Avelion as he is my CO."

“If you want that is fine.” She said smiling. “This shouldn’t all be about me hon.”

"I know, but you are much more familiar with the human custom of marriage than I am. Besides, from my understanding of human mating rituals, the man's part is simple--to show up."

“Oh yeah?” She grinned. “and who told you that, hon?” She teased him. “I do hope this will have some meaning for you as well. We will be promising each other to the other for the rest of her lives.” She said more serious.

"I know it is serious. I would not have proposed if I had not been serious about it."

"Maybe you should read out a little bit about human style ceremonies?" She suggested. "So you know more what it is about, and you can select what you want."

"Select what I want? What I want is to marry you. Do humans have to complicate everything?" he asked with a grin.

"Never mind. We won't make a big deal out of it." She said. "It's going to be mostly friends and colleagues anyway. So you do your part exactly as you want it, okay." Branwen gave him an indulgent smile.

He took Branwen into his arms. "As long as you are happy. If I do something wrong, just let me know."

"Silly boy. You're just a nice for this world." She kissed him gently.

Man'darr returned the kiss as Branwen layed against him. "What else needs to be done?" he asked.

“Not that much, hon.” She said. “I will get a little reception organized in the mess. That ‘s about it. I guess the honeymoon will have to wait till later. “

"Yes...and we have to move into larger quarters."

Her eyes grew large. “Oh my, I completely forgot! I should tell Nara, my roommate. It will be strange not to share. Well I will be sharing with you but that is different.”

"I am sure she will be happy for you."

"I think so. I hope she will be marrying soon as well. She's been seeing Saul long enough." Branwen smiled.

"They will mate when the time is right for them," he said as he held Branwen close. He enjoyed the warmth of her body as she rested against him.

"I hope so. I think Saul is not that good at committing."

"Why is that?" Man'darr asked curiously. To not be able to commit to a mate was deemed dishonorable in Capellan Society.

"Why don't you ask him. I guess that's not for me to tell." She untangled herself. "And now it is nearly time for me to go back on duty."

"Alright," he said as they both stood. He kissed her one last time before she walked out of his quarters.

"Good Riddance"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Executive Officer, USS Galaxy

*****
Main Bridge

Iniara squinted, her visual reflexes taking over just a split second before the image on the main viewer darkened.

It was spectacular, she had to admit, the image of a space station well over 100 decks tall disintegrating in a cascading series of explosions. They were well outside the range of the blast now, so instead of running for their lives, the Galaxy's crew and all those it had just rescued were now able to sit back and watch somewhat leisurely as the huge bulk of Deep Space Five tore itself to pieces, nearly destroying the four Hydran ships that were unlucky enough to still be in the vicinity.

Good riddance, the Bajoran thought to herself, good riddance. And not because their Hydran problem would be much less of a problem now. Although, that was an unintended benefit. No, Iniara thought again, good riddance to that cursed station.

Were she to say that out loud, the XO might have found herself the recipient of some very aggressive questioning by some very displeased Starfleet brass. But, as she glanced once more around the bridge and confirmed that she was the only decent telepath in the vicinity, Iniara concluded that it wouldn't hurt anyone just to think it.

Good riddance, she thought once more, relaxing back into the plush center seat as the fireball that was formerly a space station slowly receded into the blackness of space. For the past few years the station had been nothing more than a nuisance, an inconvenience, a thorn in the side of most everyone who had ever passed through its airlocks.

She supposed it had all started with the Dithparu. No, it had started before then, when the foolishly curious station personnel had made the decision to investigate the mysterious asteroid that had been their prison, and had released the evil creatures and allowed them to feast on the minds of everyone aboard the massive installation, eventually killing them all.

Or perhaps it had all started earlier than that, when Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor had been assigned as the station's new CO, and Galaxy had been tasked with taking the woman to her new command. After all, it was to be the ship's new base of operations too. And even before they had arrived at the station, Proctor had made the lives of the Galaxy crew a living hell. Unreasonable demands, prying into logs, having her lackeys spy on them...and that had been within the first two weeks after her arrival.

And then there was the Mirusa incident. As Chief of Operations at the time, Iniara had been the primary officer involved in fulfilling Proctor's constant demands. As a result, the mission had taken a back seat for her. Not that it had mattered all that much; some of the Galaxy crew had experienced interesting and sometimes terrible things while they had been on the planet, but that had been nothing compared to Proctor's actions aboard the Hydran ship.

Yes, Iniara concluded, that had been where it had all started. None of them could have realized it at the time, but Proctor killing that scientist, whether it had been murder or only self defense, had doomed the station. And Proctor too.

Iniara wasn't sure whether that was good riddance too. Sure, Proctor had been a terrible admiral who had no doubt caused more problems than she had ever solved in her less than illustrious career, but did that mean she had deserved to die at the hands of the Hydrans? Proctor wasn't an evil woman, she had just been a simple-minded person who should have chosen a different path in life. She'd been cursed the moment she took that Academy exam...such a simple decision that had ultimately cost her her life.

No, no, Iniara concluded, Olivia Proctor's death hadn't been good riddance. Nor had the deaths of the countless others, civilian and military alike, all those people who had perished when the Hydrans made their entrance. All those deaths had been a senseless tragedy.

But the station? The station could burn in the Fire Caves forever for all she cared. For years it had carried the taint of all that death, layers upon layers upon layers of it, until it could no longer hold the weight of all the tragedy that had been heaped upon it and had itself died.

Good riddance, she thought once more, watching silently as the fireball extinguished itself, leaving nothing more than a blackened debris field, black on black on black; twisted, menacing hunks of durasteel forever and ever a monument to the thousands who had died there.

Good riddance.

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