"Shangri-La"

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

Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum-Arvelion
Transporter Chief
USS Galaxy

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

While he had been on the doomed space station, For'kel hadn't afforded himself the opportunity to think things over. It was an unsaid pact between him and Berilyn, to concentrate on their respective duties rather than allow themselves to be distracted by the thought that the dearest loved one, the one they'd volunteered and vowed to share their lives and souls with, was in harms way. It worked some times better than it did others, but always in the back of one's mind there was that realization... that the last time you saw your lover and spouse could very well be the last.

Fortunately the action on Deep Space 5 had been fast paced. They got in, rescued the refugees, and got out. In a way, he was grateful the order hadn't been given to take the station, but that was on a purely personal and somewhat greedy level, because it allowed him to get back here. Tactically and strategically he still believed it the wrong call, and in the end that would only make the war last longer, cost more lives, so on and so forth.

It took a few hours to organize things in Marine Country. Bunks were being set up to serve the surplus personnel and civilians brought on from the station, and security was still an issue. The Colonel had seen to the posting of guards, the establishment of care teams to tend to the ambulatory, while medics and nurses moved the more severely injured to the better equipped facilities of the Galaxy's sickbay. Contact information for next of kin of those who survived had to be gathered, meals prepared and dispensed, hygiene services provided and weapons and gear stowed. (Rifles and side arms were kept at the ready for obvious reasons.) New clothing and bedding had to be replicated and provided, and a head count taken. It was a lot of work to see to, and on top of it all there were letters he needed to write for roughly three-dozen Marines lost in the course of the rescue. Eventually however, things had settled down.

"Colonel." Major Shaw walked up, PADD in hand. "My final report for you, sir."

He and Shaw had talked about transfers pretty much since they arrived on the Galaxy. His interest was in chasing that damnable engineer he met on the Miranda, who had been called back to Earth for service at the embassy there to the Federation. It would mean one of his most trusted crewmates and his XO would be leaving his side after over a decade of service. They'd been together for... damn he didn't even remember how long, simply that fate had apparently deemed it long enough. "Are you sure this is what you want, Pete?"

The Betazoid Marine nodded. "She is, Fork."

Arvelion smiled. He knew that look, that sparkle in Pete's eyes whenever he saw her. It was the same exact look that he exchanged with Berilyn even today. There wasn't any particular reason to force Pete to stay, not that he could do that to the man anyway. Besides, the Colonel had a romantic side, as an idealist and a husband he certainly understood that some things were simply meant to be. "You're a hell of a Marine Major. It's going to be impossible to find a replacement, but I do suppose 'someone' should know what they're talking about when they teach combat skills to those cadets at the Academy."

Shaw smirked. "It's in the best interests of the Corps, sir." Winning an instructorship at Starfleet Academy was no small feat. It signified you'd reached the pinnacle of your career, and were among the most elite in an already elite group of individuals. Definitely a place Pete belonged.

"All right then." The Stagnorian signed off on the report, and the transfer orders, before handing the PADD back and taking the man's arm. "Stow your gear and get all your things together. If you ever change your mind, I expect to be the first to know."

"Semper Fidelis, sir." Shaw nodded, before giving his boss a slap on the back. "It's been a pleasure serving with you."

"Likewise." There was no truly good way of saying goodbye, and that meant there was no real reason to carry out a long and contrived exchange. Some things just couldn't be stopped, and chief among them was love. Speaking of... "Captain Maivia, you're in charge down here until shift change. Two platoons should be on duty for six hours each cycle to look after these people and provide sentries."

He didn't really hear the Capellan's response, but knew what it would be. It didn't really matter anyway, as he was determined that tonight, the war would remain outside the doors. He had accumulated quite a bit of leave and liberty time, and intended on using some of it.

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

Wow!

Who knew that the long lost, legendary paradise of Shangri-La would be found, let alone that it would be located entirety within the area of their bedroom?

Even that description seemed woefully inadequate when being embroiled in the fires of such passion, but Berilyn had long ago given up any attempt to try and qualify her relationship with her husband in words. The only two who would ever need to understand after all, were there. Besides, such bliss tended to come at the sacrifice of higher brain functions, such as language or deep thoughts.

This was hardly their first time... Koren was testament to that, and every instance such as this shared with someone you loved, 'truly' loved, was bound to be wonderful... but anyone who'd been married longer than a few months could tell you that there were times when it was wonderful, and then there were times where, as Crewman Talsso would so crudely put it, that it was 'speck-Fucking-tacular'! Although time had come at a premium between them, especially as of late, love was certainly never lacking in their relationship. Of course there were other ways of expressing it... and despite Koren's arrival, their transfer off of the Miranda (following a rather emotionally draining instance with Era which lead to a bit of a falling out between them), settling in on the Galaxy and the extremely long nights with the Marines training, he always seemed to find a way to make a minute or two for them. It was incredibly sweet really, to be so adored. Be it a shy attempt at a love letter, a specially prepared dinner, or even just leaning on the sofa and listening to some of the classical musical forms, every moment with him was wonderful.

She had no clue what prompted this particular explosion of passion that had erupted between them practically the moment they met up after the ordeal of Deep Space Five and had been running ever since... nor did she really care at this particular moment. It might have been the alleviation of the pent up stress she felt following the whole incident with Era and Koren, or it could have been whatever pent up stress he brought with him from the transfer, retraining of the Marines, her limited withdrawal following what happened with Era, and what happened on Deep Space Five... or it could simply have been hormonal, emotional, physical... she just didn't know what conspired to make this time so special. Whatever it was though, whatever they felt, it sure as hell felt right!

She had no clue as to how much time precisely had passed... minutes bled into hours, and hours reached almost a day entire. They hadn't even bothered stopping to eat, and had left the care of Koren to Sasha, the Bajoran medic who loved children was all too happy to care for the baby. As soon as he was dropped off, they trotted in... half undressed before even finding the mattress. Night gave way to day, and by now they were well into a new night. The exhaustion was almost too much to bear, but the contentment, the feeling of an incredibly profound desire being aroused, pushed them on. Berilyn was a very well read woman by any means of comparison, especially so for an enlistee. She knew well her husband's culture framed marriage in the metaphor of the greatest of all battles... ironic for a society that had been free of warfare until space flight. The ancient Terran battle of Marathon was certainly seeming like an apt description of the night. She couldn't help but wonder which one of them would surrender first to weariness, knowing she was most definitely on the cusp herself.

Trill mythology focused on the water. The famous purple oceans of the Trill homeworld leant themselves to iconic story-telling marvelously. It emphasized the ebb and flow of all events, like the tide washing ashore... or in this instance the movement of one body against another. Two very different takes on the same basic concept, and although diametrically opposed, exceedingly complimentary.

Her thoughts became as scattered as their articles of clothing when another ripple of electrifying tantalization cut through her. It left her gasping, breathless and speechless save for the one name on the tip of her tongue. "For'kel?" How weakly his name came out, like a whisper in the wind, surprised even her.

She felt his hands follow from her legs... gliding effortlessly over the trail of spots that lead over the outside of her thighs and waist, before finding the tips of her fingers and interlacing with them. Her head was swimming, her body caught in a tempest of sensations induced by every touch, every caress, every hot and humid kiss unleashed. She hadn't noticed the way he slowly raised her arms above her head, setting them down against the pillows in a tender pin. It was easy enough to maintain with one arm, given how tired she was... and the profound lack of will to actually try to break it. An earthquake ran through her when she felt his breath on her neck, inches from her ear.

"Shhhh."

In the darkness, there was an unexplainable quality to her husband... alien and yet so very familiar. It was a quality he'd displayed far too little as of late... to the point that she found it difficult to recall the last time she was so struck. Effort had strained his voice, giving it a different tone all together, and she couldn't help but to find an exotic thrill in it. She closed her eyes, a breath catching in her throat as she nodded, the sweet sensations of surrender enhanced by the feeling of strong hands against her. True to her nature however, she didn't intend on giving up easily.

Summoning what strength she could, she launched herself forward, getting close enough to brush the base of his neck with her lips, before gravity, the physical hold on her, and her husbands weight conspired to push her back to the mattress once more. She sank into the mattress top, the light whimpering sound she conceded to fate. She wanted nothing more, and nothing less, than him. Berilyn Suum-Arvelion had always been the 'most' beautiful of all sentient creatures in For'kel's eyes. It was a beauty that went well beyond her considerably pleasing aesthetic appearance. She had a formidable spirit with an indomitable will, unyielding passion for her beliefs, and an incredibly compassionate soul which sought nothing more, he was convinced, than to love. She was by no means a pacifist, but certainly believed that peace always deserved a chance. So driven by this belief was she, that he was convinced she'd be more than willing to give her life for another's if that was all that was at stake. For some reason, he couldn't figure it out, that was one of her most admirable qualities. She was the mother of his son, the face he awoke to every morning, and the last thing he was fortunate enough to set his eyes upon at night. She had a melodic, singer's voice and a laugh that struck chords as distinct, and majestic, as church bells. She had a smile bright enough that the very stars they traveled among were put to shame by it's brilliance, and an uncanny ability to make him smile when it was the last thing he felt like doing. She provided an adventure every time she got mad, and sometimes became so worked up that you couldn't help but laugh. She was an intellectual if one could ever said to be such, but opted instead to maintain a simple rating aboard a starship, working one of the most complicated and undervalued system aboard. Must have been a career choice mimicking life, he figured. Her lips were as soft and inviting as a fresh-water natural spa, and she exuded a feeling of the most unbelievable serenity. Blonde hair, green eyes, and beautifully crafted features conspired to provide an intensely beautiful facade to what was an indescribable treasure of a soul. Yes, he might have been repeating himself by thinking so, but damn it he was a little distracted. Her porcelain skin and statuesque body prompted a recall of memories, all very happy. The first time they saw each other, their first date and how childish that seemed to go, their first kiss and the horrid 'sucking' sound that gave away mutual inexperience, their first 'time' like now, the first time they moved in together, their first son... their love was the product of a great many firsts to be sure, and in his mind no stronger proof of a force greater than the physical realm could ever be provided. They were significantly different people, from two very different backgrounds and places... indeed, such an encounter could not have been simple coincidence. Above it all, she was all the proof he needed to be reminded that no matter how costly the battle, there were some things worth fighting, and dying, for. Some things were just meant to be.

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

At some point, who knew when it was, they'd fallen asleep. Berilyn knew this, because she awoke to find herself still comfortably tucked into his arms, and his nose nuzzling the nape of her neck. She took a deep breath, happy to bathe in the moment, if only for a moment, before she expertly went about the task of slipping out of his grasp 'without' disturbing him... the latter being where a certain amount of light-stepping and dancer-like flexibility came into play.

Normally she would be all too happy to throw on one of any of her slip gowns and simply walk out to see how Koren was doing. She was in far too comfortable a mood to do so 'just' yet though, besides there was a list of 'updates' that had come from their volunteer babysitter over the course of their prolonged... ahem... evening, but none of them expressed any immediacy. Most of them were commentaries about how 'cute' or 'well behaved' he was, as if a mother could forget.

So instead of heading out first thing in the... umm... well no, it wasn't quite 'after' noon yet now, was it? In either case, rather than immediately begin moving, she elected to bask a couple of minutes, and maybe enjoy a glass of wine... or champagne. Better yet, that drink For'kel had gotten her to try the picnic they had right before coming aboard! What was it called agai... oh, Lurenian Rose Champagne! Yup, that was it!

First thing was first though, she needed something to wear. The door to the bedroom closed slid open with a hushed hiss, and on her side (read three-quarters) of the closet, she began thumbing through her bed wear. She had absolutely no intention of putting on pink slippers and a flannel nightgown, so that was out immediately. She thumbed through her other options, slip-ons in several colors, a couple of gowns and robes of all kinds of origins... she kept going until she came to one of For'kel's (and likewise one of her) favorite things to wear.

It was rather ironic that given the wide array of lingerie available to her that she'd accumulated over the past year or two, that she went with a baseball jersey. It was an all white, button down shirt that was fairly long for a shirt, and fairly short for a dress, stopping on the northern part of her thighs on the sides, and the hem dropping only slightly more elsewhere. On the jersey itself, in bright red letters read 'Marvels', the colors of a newly established baseball team, the Martian Marvels. Thin red lines adorned the short sleeves as well, and although she had no clue 'who' number seven was (the jersey was nameless), she felt it best typified how lucky she'd been. Matching scarlet underwear, and she was ready to enjoy the crimson colored drink.

"Computer, one glass of Lurenian Rose Champagne." As it shimmered, she thought it best to provide some kind of ambiance. "Play selection Bery one, track one, twenty percent volume."

As the drink fizzled into existence, the sound of Lee Anne Rhymes' "Nothin' Bout Love Makes Sense' played in the background. She found herself eventually gripped in the throws of nearly delirious happiness, dancing without a partner to the song, glass in hand. Everyone needed a break from 'life' every now and again. It was truly a great day to be alive.

OOC - occurs concurrently with the DS5 rescue operation.

"Third movement in D"
'Ancient Melody' Part 5

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik
Counseling Officer/Temporary Navigation Officer

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu
CAG

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Security Second

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

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

Ensign Lali Indrakshi
Intelligence Officer (Oded)

Ensign Goddard
Intelligence Officer

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

Lali turned her head toward Valentina. "You have to listen to this transmission. We can't wait until it gets to the rear intelligence post and someone hears it. You just have to!"

A short corridor carved into the rock led to the operational section of the hidden listening post. The narrow cavern walls were the opposite of what lay within - a circular hall equipped with the state of the art signal interception technology. Screens and computer consoles covered the walls almost completely, and six radiant pillars ascended four meters from the floor, the gelpacks within storing, analyzing, decrypting and retransmitting an incredible wealth of information.

Lali approached the nearest pillar, detached an earpiece from it, and offered it to Valentina. As the mission specialist placed the tiny piece in her ear, Lali quickly configured the pillar to relay the transmissions from the channel she listened to earlier.

It was mere luck on her side - she got bored while Valentina pursued the more technical parts of the reconfiguration, and to pass the time sat down on one of the local data analysis posts and began to cruise through the various channels, like a teen with a nervous finger on her holovid's remote. Private chats, business conversations, the laconic exchange of information between shuttles passing by - the communications intercepted by the station were an endless ocean of words.

And by complete coincidence, her ears caught three, very distinct words, translated in real-time from Hydran.

Deep, Space, and Five.

Valentina got back down to work, the reason they were here, while listening to the transmission at the same time. Mental compartmentalization was a wonderful trick sometimes. The message was intriguing, and she knew that the sooner it got back, the better. {Glory and Valediction En route to DS5. Tier 2 and 3 targets selected. Fleets to engage according to Prophesy and Revelation.} Tagging it with a flag specifically keyed for LT Bental, she got back to work.

With the wing of Hydran fighters progressing steadily closer at the extreme range of his fighter's sensors, Jarajen knew that it was only a matter of time before the Hydrans picked up the Federation craft. The stealth-technology was good, but the wing's course would bring them perilously close to their location. Again, the channel was opened to Valentina.

[Lieutenant.]

Valentina sighed as she continued her work. "What is it Sir? I don't mean to be rude but we're kind of busy here as well. I take it the Hydrans are still closing." It wasn't a question so much as a statement - he wouldn't call otherwise.

[This one will try to purchase the mission time], the Nassari said through gritted teeth as he powered up the starfighter's warp drive. [The asteroid field has given this one inspiration, and will use it to distract the Hydran-maj wing approaching. Understand, there is no chance in defeating them - only the possibility of granting time.]

"Have they showed signs of detecting us yet?"

[This one thinks not.]

"The fighters are on the same course and heading, their weapons and defenses are still in the same posture as when we noted them. My gut tells me they haven't seen us." Val sighed, stopping her work for a scant few seconds as she turned her full attentions to this problem. "Right now we've got another problem, just as big. Two fleets are en route to DS5, with intentions to strike deeper into Federation territory. One, we need to get this information out towards our people ASAP. Two, some here think it'd be a good idea to try and divert them. Somehow."

As she continued the cyborg returned to work on the systems, inputting key algorithms and lines of code. "Frankly I don't have the time nor expertise to pull off such a scheme, so survival of our crew is paramount, second is the survival of this station. I know you're the overall authority, but as mission specialist I wish to inform you that it's my recommendation that we take no action until we are positive they have seen us. My recommendation, Sir, is that you power down your warp drive as that will certainly show up on their sensors. I can hear it's subsonic frequencies over the com."

[Agreed, Lieutenant. Warp drive is now offline]. Jarajen felt icy sweat slide down his spine as he powered down all key systems. Should the Hydran wing detect their group they would have only seconds to flee... or die. [This one has boosted passive sensor output and will monitor the foe, but keep in mind out discussion on disengagement - should the wing change course we must evacuate immediately. No debate.]

"I hadn't planned on debating that one, Lieutenant. I want us gone as soon as physically possible," Miramon observed, seriousness simply dripping from his voice. "Make sure you're in a position to reactivate your engines in the shortest amount of time, because if we have got to go, we'll be looking for a fast exit, and I don't want you trailing behind. Got it?"

[The *Counselor* should not have any worries about this *pilot*], Jarajen said quietly over the comm as his cockpit went dark. [He should focus more on practicing his hobby, and making certain the runabout is ready to depart. Quaaliu out.]

The flight of Hydran fighters crept nearer and nearer to the listening post and the small craft floating outside. The life signs within were safe from detection, but the fighter and runabout were another matter. Even with their systems on stand-by and the sensor stealthing systems in place, there was always a chance, and if someone got too close it was almost a foregone conclusion they would be seen. Within the cockpit of the lead Hydran, the pilot watched as a pair of low-energy blips showed up on his sensor display. It happened every so often, but not here, not in this section of the asteroid field. Her beaks chittered, then she shook her head and made a note of the position of the blips, signaling her flight to continue their course. Once out of sensor range they would come back around and lie in wait. If they were real, she would pounce. If they were another sensor ghost, at least later flights would be aware and wouldn't go wasting ordinance on wild monkey chases.

~~~~~~~~Back inside the Barracks~~~~~~~~

Victor finished working on the second of the teams 'uninvited guests' and reached for the medical kit's abbreviated med-scanner. Not as effective as a full medical tricorder, but better than nothing, they were included in all field kits of this size or larger. Running it over the pair, he checked the readings and nodded, satisfied that there was nothing else to do. Nothing medically-speaking, anyway.

Packing the kit away, he moved to the doorway that led further into the listening post, positioning himself so that he could watch the two. He had his tricorder set to monitor them and signal him if they started to return to consciousness, but it was always better to back up that sort of thing. Neither of the two had anything on them except their clothing - he'd long since removed anything but that and packed it away for someone with more analysis experience to look at - but, if he was being conservative, that only left several hundred other ways they might be dangerous.

If he'd had his way, he would have drugged the pair, or used a tricorder to match their brains' sleep cycle patterns and run an identical current through them, or simply stunned them repeatedly to keep them out until the team returned to Galaxy, thus alleviating any threat the pair posed to the team. He hadn't done any of those things on the chance that they might know something that Intelligence would want to know - for example, how they'd learned of the listening post and gotten into it - or in the event that they knew something that would assist in increasing the Chance of Mission Success. On the other hand, in the unpleasant event that the team was stranded here, he did know who was going to be eliminated first in the interests of stretching life support and supplies.

Speaking of spending time here.... "Is there a time estimate, Lieutenant?" he called down the corridor. "I'll need to know in advance so arrangements can be made for the two prisoners."

"Another hour," Valentina called back. "The appropriate codes are in place, the system is going through the install and reboot procedures, which include a Level 1 diagnostic. Once all the lights in here are green, we're clear to leave." Moments later Valentina and Lali emerged from the Core, the rest of the time spent would be for waiting to see if anything went wrong. "Now, we've monitored a transmission headed to DS5. There are two Hydran fleets on the way, and Ensign Indrakshi feels we should do something about it. As diverting two entire fleets isn't something I'm familiar with, and I don't believe we're equipped to do such a task, I'm opening the floor. We have one hour to debate and put a plan into action. If we can't get it to work by the time we're due to depart, we scrub it and hope we have a higher top speed than the fleets."

Victor considered that for a few minutes. He wasn't an expert at many things, but he did know about laying false trails. "Is there any way to insert Federation traffic for them to intercept? Or sensor feeds? Say, of a fleet of ships they'd consider dangerous like a Federation Task Force or a fleet of cloaked Romulan vessels moving into Hydran space?"

Valentina shook her head. "The only transmitter these posts have installed is keyed specifically for broadcasting to the designated receiver station. It would take two more cycles of reprogramming to get it reconfigured for the deception and then reconfigured AGAIN to transmit back to where we need it to go."

"Impractical, then," the Security officer agreed. "Can we code a warning into the outgoing feed to whoever is picking these messages up and let them pass along the warning?"

The cyborg nodded. "The message has been flagged with a 'priority - Urgent!' codifier, it'll be the first thing any of our people will even see."

"I'm not certain what else there is that we can do, then," Victor replied, checking on his prisoners again; one never knew when someone would come to and do something unfortunate. "Even if we were capable of physically engaging them," he added dryly, "two fleets is a bit much, even for me."

[This one has a suggestion], Quattro said at last, breaking the silence of his watch.

"Fire away," Victor suggested. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

[Over Romulus, the Hydran-maj followed the lead of a creature they held to be divine], Jarajen recalled reviewing tactical data from the battle when he was at the Saturn station. [Intercepted comm traffic suggests the Hydran-maj were divided as to how much reverence the leviathan demanded. We know that the starbeast created very low, resounding subspace frequencies - could we not make such echoes by reflecting a signal off the nebula cluster seventy light-years coreward? If we cannot divert all the Hydran-maj, perhaps we can hold the interest of the more pious ones... the confusion alone could possibly slow their progress.]

"That's not bad as ideas go," Victor mused. "We've got the same problems with transmission though... unless we can use the runabout's comm suite to broadcast the signal. That's a bit far out on the technical side for me, though - but maybe not for our more technically-oriented teammates. What about it, Lieutenants? Ensigns?"

Valentina finally shook her head. "We don't have the technical capabilities to pull any of these off. The best we can hope for is LT Bental having the foresight to know whom to send the information to get the best results. In the mean time, the updates are almost done. Lieutenant Krieghoff, please see our guests to the runabout. Ensign Indrakshi and I will remain behind to oversee the final stages, and then we'll beam out and depart." With that Valentina turned around and headed back into the core, confident everyone else would do what needed to be done.

~~~~~~~~20 minutes later~~~~~~~~

The Order of Magnificent Deliverence held their places in Hydran society jealously. Refining spacefighter traditions when humanity was just beginning to harness the winds of their planet with canvass for wooden ships, the Order had centuries of service and commitment to duty behind them - a glorious history that recent events in quadrant wars had tarnished. Nyrek Jshaai was determined to maintain the honorifics of her Sisterhood... even during patrols. The wing from the Shield of Resolution streaked through what was formerly Federation space in an orderly, precicely practiced formation developed over a thousand years ago.

The Hydran wing commander cursed as her display light up like a Gropbl's Gleep! Blorping and Purbling out commands over her fighter's com frequency, she engaged her impulse engines at full, twisting and weaving around the asteroids. ~Federation!~ There was no doubt in her mind, the runabout confirmed it. They had been observing for who knew how long!! Curse her fellow flight leaders! They reported no activity, and many of them were so complacent they never logged the occasional sensor ghosts they ALL ran into!!!! //We have the advantage my sisters! The minefield will not hamper us, while the Monkeys have to be careful. Engage at will!.//

Entering into the minefield the Hydrans flew dangerously close to the warheads, heedless of caution for the IFF transponders would ensure their safety. What they didn't count on was Quattro.

The Nassari had brought his starfighter in fast, even through the minefield and brought up his first target. The Hydran starfighters were small and sleek, making difficult targets at the best of times, but so far Quattro wasn't aiming at the fighters - rather the large, photon mines they chose to fly close to.

A mine exploded near the trailing Hydran fighter, ripping up it's fuselage in an explosion meant to damage a capitol ship, destroying the fighter. Quattro came to full impulse behind the Hydrans, taking potshots at the mines, and not the fighters themselves. Meanwhile Eve sat at the station in the aft compartment of the Runabout, Victor nearby. She had plugged into the vessel through an ODN line and was directing the fire control's targeting of the craft's single aft phaser strip. Precision was needed, and her mind was faster than the computer. Quality AND quantity. A second fighter was taken out as its pilot panicked, banking away too hard and ramming straight into another mine.

Of course, one of the major difficulties of fighting defensively in combat was that you had to work hard to hit the other guy while simultaneously not getting hit yourself; and Miramon was doing everything possible to ensure that the latter didn't happen. He wasn't too concerned about firing on the Hydrans - the mines were doing that job, and it was what Quattro had been assigned to the mission for, so as far as the Bajoran was concerned, simply outrunning the Hydrans was far more important than outgunning them.

Right now, he was on a similar tack to Eve - sure, he could fly the ship using the computer-adjusted controls, but he'd always preferred to fly manually, because he could use a control yoke to perform more precise and gut-wrenching maneuvers (thank the Prophets for Inertial Dampening!) than he'd have been able to using the standard co-ordinate and velocity input the computer generally required.

"Everyone okay back there?" he called back into the rear compartment from the cockpit. His usual philosophy was very much silence while flying, but for the moment, he was more concerned about his passengers. The dampeners could only do so much to preserve the contents of one's stomach.

"Good enough," Victor replied as he frowned at readouts in front of him. "But before we go shooting up the landscape any further, has anyone considered that we're making a great big sign that 'Someone Was Here' for the Triad intelligence analysts to spot? A bit counterproductive to keeping the relay point a secret, isn't it?"

Valentina smirked as she directed another shot with the aft phaser strip, intending more to keep the pursuing fighters dodging more than they were shooting. "Well, us being caught out by their fighters is a big sign saying we were here as well, wouldn't you agree Lieutenant?"

Another Hydran was damaged by an exploding mine, peeling off to lick its wounds. "The hope is that they will think we were it and won't scour the area in EVA suits."

"Better than no plan at all," Victor conceded.

Quattro had kept the debate on the runabout open on his comm, but had no opportunity to engage in the conversation. Five Hydran fighters were now three, and they had learned from the events of the last ten minutes. The smaller fighters were keeping their distance from the mines, and while two were alternating in keeping the Nassari occupied the other was harrassing the runabout with cobalt-blue fusion beams.

Despite his dislike for the Bajoran's attitude and chosen profession, he had to admire the Counselor's abilities as a flier. ~Such a waste~, he mused as he performed a corkscrew immelman to stave off the Hydran on is aft. The manoeuvre succeeded in placing his fighter behind his adversaries. Still, while opening fire with his phasers, he knew that at close range the Hydrans still had the advantage in terms of firepower, numbers, and manoeuverability.

[Lieutenant Terrick, the minefield has served its purpose. The Counselor must plot a course on the 'zed' axis and go to warp immediately. This one can occupy the Hydran-maj for enough time.]

"Copy that, Lieutenant!" Miramon called over the comm system, although he felt his reply was a little more exuberant than usual, simply because he was trying desperately to retain his concentration in a situation where there were an awful lot of variables to keep in mind. The runabout was just about coming clear of the minefield, which meant that they could easily plot an appropriate warp jump and get the heck out of there. Of course, he'd already set an appropriate jump in the ship's computer, making sure that they took a somewhat circuitous route so as to prevent them being followed by the Hydran ships all the way back to the Galaxy.

"Just don't any stupid risks, Quaaliu," he said sincerely. "We can get clear, but make sure you can as well. I don't want to have to come back here to retrieve your body. Rendevous with us back at the Galaxy."

Disengaging from the aft compartment consol Valentina moved forward. "Lieutenant Terrick, as soon as we're clear, punch it. Quatro can take well enough care of himself."

Scant moments later, the Runabout flashed off into the distance.

OOC: For those of you that are new to the sim...Faylin McAlister is a shape shifter.

"All I Know"

Faylin McAlister
Civy

Lt. JG. Ophelia Zamora
JAG - USS Galaxy

Lt. Alex Rodriguez
Security - Tuscany Outpost

Location: Tuscany

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

Inserting the card key in the lock, she waited a minute to gain entrance into the hotel room on the fifth floor of the Hyat that rested on the outskirts of the Tuscany outpost. As a civilian, she had to pay for everything, something that she had grown accustomed to not doing since her time in the Fleet. Stepping into the small room, she smirked as she glanced at the 'modern' decor. The Queen sized bed rested against the back wall under the usual gaudy attempt at a painting of wild flowers in a field. Fortunately, the woman would not be here long enough to enjoy it's discreet attempt at peace.

Slinging the black case on the mattress, Faylin sat heavily down beside it, drawing a long breath that resulted in an abrupt sigh. Weaving her fingers in with each other, she bent her wrists back, resulting in a cracking that would give most a shiver. She took a second, scratched the tip of her nose with her index finger and reached over unclasping the lock on the case.

Her plan was executed...at least the planning of it was. The actual 'doing' would come in thirty minutes....when...according to the duty roster...her target would be found sipping a Corona in his personal quarters. She would give him the pleasure of that last drop of alcohol before....well....she did her job.

Extracting the necessary equipment, she concealed the phaser under her shirt on her right side, and the ancient gun with silencer on her left side. The woman slid a few orbs into her pants pocket, permitting a small smile to play on her lips as she did so. Straightening her shirt with a ritualistic tug, McAlister lastly peeled back a small clear sticker and placed it on her right index finger. She left the hotel room exactly as she found it, except for the case that slept on the mattress.

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

Location: Alex Rodriguez Personal Quarters (Lt. JG. Ophelia Zamora's Ex Husband)

The home of the security officer was just like every other cookie cutter Starfleet outpost housing. She stepped up to the chime, rang it, and quickly flipped her long black hair over her shoulder.

It had been an overly long, dramatic shift. All the man had wanted was to be left alone. How ironic he thought as he grumbled and stood from his slouching position on the couch. Scratching the hair on his chest with his right hand, his left grabbed the beverage as he made his way to the door. He would get rid of who ever it was...so he could concentrate on the Universal Football game finals between the Klingon Titans and the Earth Eradicators.

Flexing her wrist, the woman waited until the door slowly started to open. Within a matter of a second, she was standing in front of him with a sly look on her face.

"Ophe............"

"Yeah." She spat as her open palm flashed up and hit him with force underneath his nose.

His dark eyes grew instantly wide as a howl of pain escaped his vocal cords and cut through the air. She halted her assault for long enough to press her index finger against his index finger on his left hand for but a mere second.

"What are you????' He grasped before he felt himself being stunned stupid by a weapon he knew all to well. Falling to the hard floor, he gave her a look of sheer wonderment.

"Shutup." She hissed. Slipping two black orbs out of her pocket, she placed them by him and activated them. The shimmery force field enacted, holding him prisoner as she calmly walked over to his security console and placed the sticker with his newly embedded fingerprint up to the identification screen.

"Access granted. Security clearance....level 10." The computer groaned to life. The woman grinned. Her homework on her replacement had paid off in more ways than one. His clearance was high enough for what she had needed.

"Personnel file for lt. Jebediah Baile, Marine. Assignment USS Galaxy."

Pulling the chair up under her bottom, she sat with her back to the man as her eyes scanned the information. "There...you are." She whispered. Extracting a small disk from her breast pocket, she inserted it into the console, making a copy of Baile's information. Her eyes continued to scan the embedded information that was in his file revealing the location of the Crow's encampment. Because Baile was not forth coming with the information himself, she had to find another way to get it.

"Ophelia....please...I've missed you." His words sounded nasally, mixed with the blood that was still pouring from his nasal passages.

The woman snorted before spinning in the seat and glancing at him. "Pathetic." She muttered.

"Not such a big man now...are we?" She stood, extracting the weapon with the silencer on the barrel and leveled it at him.

"I've changed...I really have! Just come back and you'll see! I'm sorry...I'm sorry for all those things I did to you...I'll never do it again....please."

"Oh, I'm sure..."

"Lia....let me out of here....we can start over."

Faylin looked at his shivering form. What was once a man of determination sat before her with blood trickling down his face. She took a moment to study him. A slight curl to her glossy lips presented itself. "I really did love you....I still do." She tilted her head to the side with a quizzical look washing over her delicate features. "Why? Why did you have to beat me?"

"I...I don't know....What are you going to do to me?"

McAlister said nothing as she leaned over and turned the force field off. Standing to her full height, she sighed as she held the weapon steady.

"Honey?"

Her mouth drew into a thin line as Fay's index finger tucked itself into the trigger. She drew his look into her mind as the bullet silently sped through his head and exited out the back of his brain. It was a gorgeous pattern of art she had left on the wall behind him. The swirls of grey matter and dark crimson were so poetic in nature, it was enough to make her proud of her artistic ability as his body slowly slumped to the floor with a dead thud of everlasting grief.

"That's for Ophelia............................." McAlister whispered.

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

Location: USS Galaxy

Sitting behind the polished desk, Zamora instantly looked up, her bloodshot eyes locking onto the pale eggshell color of the wall opposite of her. A wave of nausea suddenly hit her for some reason. Shaking her head, she lowered her vision and went back to the draft of the legal form in front of her as she took a long draw from her coffee cup.

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

Location: Personal Quarters of Alex Rodriguez

Before Fay left his quarters, she felt a release of the usual eroticism that occurred after a routine kill. There was only one thing left to do. Tilting her head upwards, McAlister noted the small blinking red light that flashed in the upper left hand corner of the room and smiled brightly as Lt. Ophelia Zamora was known to do recently. She was off the hook...and before too long...Lt. Ophelia Zamora would be in for the fight of her life.

"Final Movement"
Ancient Melody (Side-plot end)

Lieutenant Junior Grade Valentina "Eve" Dimitrieva Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy - Technical Operations

~~~~~~~~
Officer's log, Stardate (XXXXX.X)

We have returned to the Galaxy plus two personnel, Goddard and Com-d'Vile. Starfleet records corroborate their identities and purposes within this sector. Our mission was successful in the intended aim of reprogramming the listening post to new output and encryption parameters. Upon our departure we were engaged by a flight of Hydran fighters. The runabout and fighter suffered only superficial damages. By utilizing the hydran minefield in the area we were able to eventually disengage from the fighters, the Runabout departing first while 'Quatro' kept the hydran attention. He followed shortly thereafter.

Only time will tell us if the hydrans discover or otherwise neutralize the listening post. There are approximately a half dozen more listening posts scattered through space on our side of the old Federation-Hydran border. With the apparent success of this venture, I feel it likely that teams will be sent to the other posts to both ensure their security as well as to likewise alter their now outdated protocols. A fully detailed report has been submitted to Lieutenant Bental as protocol dictates.

On a side note, after our return and debriefing, I stopped by Marine Country. Apparently the marines, for this one operation at least, have acquiesced to utilizing more specialized information gathering devices rather than simply their combat tricorders and the like. The Marine CO, Colonel Arvellion, expressed a desire to return the surveillance devices back to the Intelligence inventory. After a brief discussion it was agreed that the marines would retain the devices in the event of future use. I have therefore downloaded all of the captured data and passed it up to LT Raynor for the analytical department to pour over. I have also, with COL Arvellion's permission, given 4 marines a block of instruction on the basic maintenance, use, and installation of the sensory devices. This will give the marines a wider degree of flexibility, and they won't have to keep coming back to us.

On a personal note, I agree with the Colonel's assessment that it is the Intelligence department's duty to provide what information we can to combat the Opposition. However, after some small amount of research I find that some of the most reliable intelligence reports have come, not from covert operatives or listening posts, but rather from the front line troops. Those in direct conflict and contact with the Opposition know more than any what they are facing and by equipping the marines with these sensory devices, we give other units, Marine and Fleet alike, a better chance. Granted by the time the information is dissemination it won't be accurate up to the minute, but it's better than waiting for some spook in a sneak suit to find something out weeks after it's usefulness has expired.

"The Backyard Door" - Queen's Gambit epilogue

By Oded Magger

* * *

Deep Space.

Away from any star, two spaceship glide toward each other, their sublight engines powered down. They gracefully slow down, one passing below the other, and both come to a full stop.

A flexible sleeve extends from the bottom one, which bears no signs that identify its passengers as Hydrans. It makes contact with the other ship's airlock, and expands slowly as the vacuum within begins to be filled with oxygen-rich atmosphere.

A while later, several figures emerge from the bottom ship, and begin to climb up, skillfully lifting their broad bodies with two of their three arms.

* * *

Elsewhere, and at about the same time, A wrinkled-face Ferengi sits on a cushioned chair in a Spartan-looking meeting chamber, his weathered hand grasping firmly the golden Ferengi-head ornament on top of his cane. He does not display any emotion ? years of bargaining and bartering fixed a passive mask on his face.

Two close-set eyes concentrate on the opponent on the other side of the table. The Ferengi never thought he would barter for his right to barter, definitely not with THEM.

The Hydran is male. The Ferengi was doubtless that there are other Hydrans like him scattered across the Galaxy right now, and that all the rest were females. He knew Hydran culture enough, and being sent a male representative demonstrated that the Hydrans studied the Ferengi culture as well.

What might sound like a good, firm start for a partnership was a complete opposite.

"Your threat is lacking foundation.", the Ferengi tells the Hydran, leaning left in his seat. "We are of more value to you running our trade lanes, than joining the Triad. There are many factors who trade with us and are going to be curious as for why the Ferengi stopped filling their ports with merchandise. And who is going to fill the void? You? By blockading our worlds, you will only increase hostility toward your cause."

The Hydran's beak produces clicking sounds, and the translation followed.

"If I were of the Federation, I would tell you that the Galaxy is better off without greedy Ferengi tainting the trade routes with their foul schemes. Or, I would ignore you completely ? a species like yourself, what threat does it pose? You seek profit, but not through conquest but through exploiting that which exists."

The Hydran poses, and both of them wait for him to make his point.

"We, on the other hand, choose not to overlook you."

* * *

"We were overlooked ourselves."

Light years away, near the now torn stitch between Federation and Hydran space, four Dreshayans stand up with their arms folded. The defiant stance resembles that of a Human folding his arms in more than one way, even though in the Dreshayans' case the arms are flexible and lacking any joints.

Curious creatures, the Hydran envoy thinks as she continues to persuade the four. She was picked because of her unusually short stature, since those who sent her did not want to the envoy to project patronization.

Despite the 'good' intentions, she was still significantly taller than the tallest of the four, Commodore Adair.

"What are you proposing?" the Commodore inquires. His head, she notices, is lifted up in arrogance. So be it.

"We propose our support in solving the Vered cluster issue in exchange for your support."

One of the Dreshayan Captains tries to draw the Commodore's attention. He ignores it.

"Don't play with us, three-eyed wench. We will not agree to any force invading our territory."

"We have no intention to invade; We ask for a one-year right of passage. The Sovereignty does not wish to battle the fleet of Dreshaya, or I wouldn't be here. And let me tell you more."

The Dreshayans would never admit it, but the Hydran task force could annihilate the Dreshayan fleet and the homeworlds' defenses if they wished to. Moreover, it would not slow them down more than the destruction of DS5 already did.

All of those present in the room were aware of this. None brought it up, each one for his or her own reasons.

"We are very sensitive about losing colonies. It happened to us. That is why we sympathize with your side of the Vered cluster conflict. The Federation colonists have no right to plow and mine planets which were ones Dreshayan."

The Dreshayan captains voice their agreement. All except for the Commodore.

"You are not here out of sympathy."

"We are here because we can drink two Slura cones at once. Driving the Federation off Vered is a common interest. If it can be done without a fight, even better."

"How?"

The Hydran's eye stalks focus on the Commodore. She speaks up.

"You present their president an Ultimatum."

* * *

After hours of conversation, the elder Ferengi finally motions to his aide that the meeting was nearly over.

"Your proposal is interesting, but I choose to wait for now.", He says.

"You are going to sit down and see how the Triad's campaign turns out." The Hydran states the obvious.

The Ferengi's face remains still.

"Makes sense. I assume there is a rule of acquisition related?"

"Perhaps."

"Let me assure you." The Hydran says, "The more we succeed, the less attractive our proposal will become. You would do the same, of course. And in the mean time, the rivers of Latinum will dry."

"If you must."

The Hydran makes a confident expression. The sovereignty's political scientists made some very interesting assessment regarding how being siege would affect the Ferengi. The Hydrans didn't even need to put forces on all of the Ferengi's borders ? merely to hold the side which faces the Federation and the other major forces of the quadrant.

"You will reconsider."

* * *

"So it is settled." Says the Hydran, and extends his arm.

The man in front of his takes it, then responds with a Hydran gesture. It is difficult, since he is a Human that has only two arms and no eye-stalks whatsoever, but he still manages to make it without losing face or ridiculing himself.

The men around him would never dare to gloat at him even if he had done it butt naked and wearing a clown's top.

"My men will give yours a list of coded channels to contact us when needed." The Human says. He has a quiet voice, much like a faraway tsunami before it reaches the shore.

"Agreed. I trust we will speak again soon, Mr. Bental."

The Hydrans turn away and leave. The elastic sleeve detaches itself from the Bental-owned starship with a hiss, and the two vessels wrap to their separate ways.

"Grim Task"

Rear Admiral Megarex
Operation 'Safe Haven' Coordinator

* * * USS Nightview * * *

The Bolian Admiral turned off his console with mixed emotions. Three hours earlier, when he received the call and discovered the president, Admiral Murdock and Admiral Price on the other side of the line, he assumed that he was about to be briefed before being dispatched to the front lines, on a mission of great importance on the front line.

He was right, but not in a way he desired. Not the slightest.

Perhaps, he considered as he stormed out of the office, he should have kept his political aspirations low. It was no secret among the top circles of both Starfleet and Bolarus that Megarex intended to advance as much as he can in the fleet ? and then retire to take key role within the Bolian domestic leadership. The current leading figures of the various political parties were all concerned by the emergence of this new player ? charismatic, relatively young, active, and popular. A genuine Dominon war hero, and a fine example of a Bolian.

It was not being his future political opponents to trick him like this before he even wet his blue soles in Bolian politics.

Bastards.

It was, he knew, more logical that the president simply picked him because this operation could explode in their face.

"Sir!" One of his aides, an Andorian Shen bearing a Commander's rank, flanked him and joined his brisk stride. "What was that about?"

"sh'Pakto, we need to set course for the Vered cluster. I need you to get me these Captains as soon as possible. We have no time to waste."

Megarex offered the Commander the black rugged PADD he was holding. Most of the names didn't ring any bells, and the ship's registration numbers suggested that they were transports. There were a few famous names though, like Captain M'Kantu of the Galaxy.

"The Vered cluster is somewhat off the predicted course of the Triad invasion force. It isn't the best tactical spot for a fight." The Shen indicated.

The Bolian shook his head. "Fight. Fight! Who said anything about a fight?"

* * * Vered Cluster, Epsilon Vered, Inner Asteroid Belt * * *

The annoying alerts from the mining station's sensor array woke Yehoshua up from his afternoon doze. He cursed and launched a kick at the computer. The thing was considered a premium piece of hardware back when Captain Kirk was gawking at girls in high school.

When several kicks did not help to fix things, he straightened up, swore again, and took a closer look at the display.

"Fucking midgets."

The communication system was forced to life, and after some noisy protests the static was replaced by the voice of Adi, who was driving the fighter. It was an odd mix between a freighter and a small combat vessel. Probably the same effect one would have fixing a twin phaser gatling guns on top of a truck.

"What is it?" Adi asked. Her voice was cute and sweet, not hinting that the woman behind it was married with eight children, pregnant with the ninth and looked a little like a Truck-with-gatling-phasers herself.

"Damn midgets hauled their debris from their side of the belt toward us. They're aiming for Robominer three this time."

"Mind your language, Joshua, you are talking to?"

"A married woman, yea." He sighed. Adi was more religious than him so she was quite touchy about things like curses and mining on Shabbat. "Seven minutes to impact. Wish I could see that Dreshayan right now, I would break his bloody nose."

"Let me worry about bloody noises."

They had troubles with the Dreshayans. Everyone had trouble with the Dreshayans, but until last month at least the mining operation here at the inner belt did not suffer from interference. Then, a Dreshayan team appeared and began to mine, and both parties were giving each other hard time pretty soon.

From their end of the deal, Joshua flooded the Dreshayans' radio frequency with Hassidic music ? hey, it was supposed to make people joyous ? and moved the robominers to asteroids closer to the Dreshayan base. Adi and the others even ended up firing a few warning shots. The Dreshayan tried to pay back by launching their garbage toward the Robominers. A piece of junk moving at high speed could disable a robominer for weeks, and replacement parts were hard to come by anywhere in the cluster.

As for Starfleet intervention in settling the dispute ? well, they gave up on that long ago. Since they were little, Adi and Joshua's parents taught them that out here they were on their own and they needed no one to babysit them. If they wanted to be pampered, they could always catch a shuttle to the core worlds where Shabbat was no longer upheld and even in Israel most people forgot what it meant to be Jewish.

Back in her 'truck', Adi took the controls and began to maneuver toward the upcoming debris. She dodged some of the larger rocks, then positioned the 'truck' in a relatively open space. She could see the Dreshayans' debris rushing toward them ? products of the shortlings' mining operation.

"Don't do to your friend what you don't want to be done to you." She quoted, and tapped one of her controls. Part of the hull sled open, and a small module protruded. The repulse beam.

She waited for just the right time.

The effect was swift. The debris practically bounced back, hitting a very large rock. The few fragments that missed the repulse beam were quickly annihilated by the gatling phasers. Then, the 'truck' accelerated, using the asteroid as cover to approach the Dreshayan miners.

They must've realized that some sort of taboo was broken, because they gathered their small shuttlepod around the main mining ship. The truck bobbed from its asteroid cover, and while the shuttlepods began to fire at the oncoming rocks, she fired at the nearby mineral reach rocks.

Several good hits were enough to trigger the chain reaction. Chaos came to the belt ? rocks exploding, Dreshayan shuttlepods rushing here and there, explosions sending debris in all direction.

Some of the pods tried to return fire. One of them hit the unshielded port side of the truck, but weapon was weak and the reinforced hull sustained the damage. Adi kept a safe distance from the pods until they ceased their fire and docked with the mining ship.

The ship began to retreat.

Adi opened a channel to the Dreshayans. "Next time, throw your garbage at someone else! If you get back to look for more trouble, I assure you, there'll be many more of us."

That was a common threat which often became true. Over the years, they taught the Dreshayans the hard way not to deal with the colonists. That's the only language these uppity bastards understand ? force.

The Dreshayans, however, did something very untypical.

They responded.

"Don't worry, Human, you won't be here much longer. Our ancestors' lands will be freed of your filth."

"That a fact?" Adi murmured, but turned the truck around.

She did not dedicate more thought to the matter, and would not dedicate any further thought until Starfleet will come to expel her from the only home she ever knew.

The Federation News Net

"Good Evening, I'm Dorega Arevlir with the 1800 hour broadcast of the Federation News Net.

Our Top Story today: Federation Colonists in the remote Vered cluster have been ordered to evacuate. The location was settled by a variety of member species nearly fifty years ago. Hostilities broke out almost immediately between the settlers and the Dershayans, an species native to that region. The Dershayans claim to the planets within the Vered cluster is based upon information within their archives stating that their ancestors settled colonies within the clusters. Archaeological reports have found evidence of previous settlements on a few worlds, but their origins do not fall in line with ancient Dershayan culture. The Dershayan government has declined to comment on this fact, and though they have not openly declared war with the Federation, many of their citizens have engaged in aggressive actions with Federation Colonists.

"Now the future of the Vered Cluster will be dramatically different from what any of the colonists could have imagined.

"Last night an emergency meeting was called by the President behind closed doors. In attendance were Senators on the Colonial Committee as well as top members of Starfleet's Admiralty to include the Admirals Murdoc and Price. Immediately afterwards, a task force was ordered to assemble with a singular mission. Removal of all Federation citizens currently residing within the Vered cluster.

"The Federation Council released to the Associated Press that the reason for the evacuation is due to their proximity to Triad controlled space. With the relatively minimal Starfleet presence in the area Triad forces could easily overwhelm what Starfleet could put in their way. The Dershayan fleet, while impressive, is equally powerless to stop a hostile advance through their territory even without the need to protect the worlds they claim. The President must protect his people, the Council states. In order to do this, he is pulling them back behind established lines of defence. The Federation will abandon the Vered colonies in order to consolidate Starfleet's forces in the area.

"Leading the Task Force is none other than the USS Galaxy, commanded by Captain Daren M'Kantu. Rear Admiral Megarex, who is coordinating this venture, has agreed to allow journalist teams to be embeded within the fleet of starships to evacuate the colonies.

"And in other news, a man was found dead in his home earlier today. Starfleet has had a personal hand in the investigation as the man in question was himself an officer within the Security department. Investigators state they have reliable evidence but have declined at this time to identify their suspect.

"And now it's time for Sports. Med?"

"Medarha Jendoln here for FNN Sports. The Klingon Titans have destroyed the Earth Eradicators in a blowout game. The final score was an astonishing 224 to 0! Averaging 8 touchdowns per quarter ......

[OOC: This is Max and Victory's last post regarding "Queen's Gambit", which now places them on the Galaxy. /OOC]

"Med Evac"

PO2 Maxwell
PO3 Victory

The feeling and weight of a phaser in hand was comforting. The feeling of firing one was exciting. Getting fired on sucked. And that's the situation that they were all in at that moment. The hoppers were leaving, the shuttle long gone, and it was Victory, a few Marines, and Max putting themselves between the remaining unmovable patients and the advancing Hydrans.

"Get some!" howled Max as he let off a few bursts of phaser fire, taking down a couple of soldiers. His reply was a heavy volley of weapons fire, causing him to duck behind some heavy crates that were placed there for some kind of barricade. He turned to the Marine Next to him and asked, "Any idea how much longer till they get a fix on the patients?"

"Shouldn't be much longer," was the reply in between shots. Max looked over his shoulder to see how Victory was doing.

Unlike Maxwell, Victory was unarmed. The only device in her hands was her medical tricorder. Several of the Marines had almost pleaded with her to take up arms, but she had staunchly refused. She was a nurse, she had no business firing a phaser when she had patients to care for. And caring for them she was. The last batch of wounded that the rescue teams had been unable to extract with the shuttles and hoppers had been gathered into a single barricaded corner of the compartment.

They were the wounded that were too badly injured to be easy to move. Internal injuries, spinal damage, missing limbs, all of the most dire nature. There was no way they could be moved far. A transporter was the only option for getting them out.

Of course the option always remained to leave them behind and save those that could be easily taken out of harms way. But that would go against every moral fiber in Victory's body and in Max's too, she knew that. So the two of them had remained, with a small contingent of Marines willing to help the pair of medics hold out until the Galaxy could swing close enough to the station to beam them all off in one pass.

That sounded a lot easier than it actually was. The enemy was getting close, pushing in all around. They would not be able to hold out much longer. It was a simple factor of numbers. Skill and bravery had nothing to do with it. The enemy had numerical superiority and sooner or later they would crush the last of the defenders and kill them and the wounded they fought to protect.

That was unless the Galaxy got to them in time, something which Victory very much hoped would be happening sooner rather than later.

She glanced up from the man she was tending, his spine was broken in three places and he had a ruptured lung. He was very lucky to be alive. She had just administered the last of the painkiller in her small inventory. She was the only one tending to the wounded. Even now Max had joined their five Marines in holding the line.

As her eyes swept across the six of them they cought on his, as he had glanced in her direction at the same moment. She gave him a quick, reassuring smile before the both of them had to turn their attention back to their duties at hand.

Satisfied that she was doing okay, Max turned his attention back to his more immediate concern: The blue menace that encroached upon them. One of the Marines with him, apparently a sniper, expertly dispatched one after another. He made perfect aim for the joints and breaks in the armor.

But it wasn't enough. They were steadily getting closer, and by now one of the defenders got taken out, decapitated by a well placed fusion weapon shot. One glanced confirmed the kill for Max. He took the Marine's phaser rifle, checked the power level, and like some mad maniac from an old Terran film, proceeded to fire both rifles in a spread. He knocked down several Hydrans, but their armor cought the brunt of the assault. And still they came.

He tapped the CommBadge on his uniform and shouted, "Maxwell to Galaxy, anytime now!!" He looked back at Victory again, hoping that none of the weapons fire had hit her.

The enemy was indeed getting too close for comfort now. Victory had thrown herself over one of the wounded to protect the young ensign from a shower of sparks ad debris that had been caused by a weapon impact that was all too close.

"How long until we get out of here?!" She asked as she swept some bits of hot debris away from the ensign with her bare hands. She turned to check on the others, just in time to see a Hydran trying to force his way through on one of the sides. Several of the Marines trained their weapons on the enemy and fired, but not before he got off a shot of his own.

The Hydran's shot had gone wide, his aim disrupted by the lethal phaser fire from the Marines that killed him. The shot than hit Victory in the left shoulder, rather than center of mass, causing her to spin as she was knocked off balance. Sparks and a small gout of fire erupted from the hit as she fell back on the deck with a loud thud.

When he heard the noise behind him, Max spared a quick glance to see what happened. What he saw was Victory on the ground, her left shoulder an absolute mess. "Vic!" he screamed over the high pitched whine of energy weapons fire from both sides. This has gone on long enough, as far as he was concerned.

"Maxwell to Galaxy," he shouted as he tapped his CommBadge. "Emergency EVAC NOW!!" He looked up in time to see two Hydrans trying to force their way through. Max's finger jammed on the fire button and phased energy erupted from his rifle, knocking both down. Then a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time took hold of him: a transporter field. Through the haze of dematerialization he watched one of the remaining Marines take a hit in the arm. He apparently didn't get caught in the transporter beam.

He rematerialized on a transporter pad and saw numerous Security Officers and Medical personnel in front of him. He looked around him and saw only two Marines,and one patient.

"Where's the rest of them?" Max demanded, already becoming frantic. If Victory was left behind...

"We distributed everyone throughout the various transporter rooms throughout the ship," someone said, apparently the Transporter Chief. Already the medical personnel moved in on the patient behind Max, the person with the severed spine that Victory was working on. He automatically gave report on the patient.

"Thirty-Eight year-old Terran, Alert and Oriented times four, fractures of the vertebrae at C-3, C-4, and T-1. Ruptured right lung, O2 saturation holding at around 90% with Tri-Ox administration. Vital signs are blood pressure 104/50, heart rate 112, sinus tach, respiratory rate 30, neuros..." He disappeared out of the Transporter Room with the patient and the Nurses.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the USS Galaxy, in another transporter room another wash of transporter beams had dissipated, leaving wounded people and one nurse with a smoking hole in her uniform laying on the cold pad. Internal systems had gone into automatic damage assessment mode after the initial shock of the energy weapon hit had been absorbed and distributed throughout her conductive armor mesh. Control circuits ok, muscular network ok, artificial nervous system ok, motor respons system ok. All of these checks happened in less than a second. But she was not concerned with them.

She was already pushing back to her feet and grabbing her medical tricorder to check on her patients. Not all of them were there, they must have been divvied up between the ships transporter rooms. there were, of course, a few too many to just beam up into one. Her spinal injury patient was missing, she hoped wherever he had ended up he was being tended to quickly. He was the worst injury.

As the medics rushed in she gave rundown of various patients conditions and needs, helped get people onto stretchers and sorted out for transport to sickbay. She paid little attention to the medic who had turned his attention to her.

"Miss, hold still a moment while I check your shoulder" he said, getting her attention with a firm but gentle hand on her opposite, undamaged shoulder.

"No, I'm fine. The others need you, I don't" she replied

"I insist, miss" he said in a more serious tone.

Victory glanced down at her shoulder. The uniform was burned away from her shoulder, tunic and undershirt blacked and featuring a nice big hole. The artificial skin was a mess, melted and burned through. But the shot had not pierced the armor mesh protected muscles.

"It's just cosmetic damage" she said as she tested the arm, movement was good, her system had cut out all pain receptors automatically when she had taken the hit, a handy little subroutine from her combat programming that enabled her to be shot and not be burdened with physical pain in a situation like the one she had just been in.

"Take care of the others, I dont need anything" she indicated an ensign with a sever burn to her face and neck.

The medic frowned, but did not argue, rather he went knelt by the burned woman, scanning her with his tricorder.

"Victory was beside him a second later. "She has second degree burns on her face and neck. Three broken ribs on her left side and a fractured ankle. "I administered 30cc's Rexlin about twenty minutes ago, enough to sedate her" she explained. "I did not have time to do more than take her pain away. There was just too much happening" she sighed, looking down at the sleeping ensign, wishing she had been able to do more than knock her out.

A stretcher arrived and the pair of them gently lifted the Ensign onto it and departed from the transporter room. Sickbay was not far, this transporter room being on the same deck and one section over. As they moved, Victory had little time to think of things other than administering treatment to her patient. But even so, at the back of her mind she hoped Max had made it out alright. The last few moments had been chaos.

"Sensitive and Decisive"

Featuring Captain Daren R. M'Kantu
Rear Admiral Megarex

"I am sorry that it reached the news before we could speak, Daren. So little seems to escape the media these days."

Captain M'Kantu's wise eyes observed the image of the Bolian on the screen. His fingers interlaced beneath his chin, providing some rest to a sore head. Apologies were cheap, but it was not Rear Admiral Megarsh that he to face the inquiries of his men before even being briefed. 'Wait patiently', he told Bental when the latter came to express his concerns regarding the mission. 'We were not told anything official yet'.

They were now.

"What's done is done, Megarex." Captain M'kantu responded.

The Bolian smirked. "Good reaction. That's precisely why Price recommended you for the task. You're one of the most level-headed people I know, Daren. I can't think of other Starfleet Captain who can handle the challenges ahead as well as you."

Daren sighed inwardly. It's been twenty years since he worked with Megarex, and the man was still too cordial and still enjoyed using big slogans. Exactly what this grim task required ? a copywriter to make it look better than what it was.

"So we are going to evacuate the colonists of Vered cluster." He said, attempting to make the Admiral get to the point.

"Yes?"

"Are they willing to evacuate? Has anyone spoken with them?"

The smile vanished from the Bolian's face. "People from the liaison corps have been in continuous contact with the colony leaders even before it became public. Some are willing to evacuate, some will cooperate, and others? are less easy to persuade."

Megarex scratched his brow. "In fact, we suspect that it was they who informed the FNN."

Petty excuse, thought Daren. This was war time, so the government's hold over the news service was tighter than usual.

"I understand we are talking about a few dozen thousands?"

"Spread across several star systems. The Galaxy and six transport vessels will be handling the most populated region."

"I see."

"I can see that you are concerned, Daren. I understand you. We all are. One wrong move, a single drop of blood n the wrong place, and this could explode. This is why we need people like you, and like your crew, to handle it. We hope that the colonists will understand that we are not abandoning them ? we are sending them heroes of DS5! We-"

"I don't think that someone who is going to be taken by force from his home would care if a 'hero' comes to do it." Daren indicated dryly. Megarex's charisma worked very little magic on him. No slogan is going to change the fact that his men were ordered to do something which was as far from heroic as possible.

"Starfleet did a lot of preparatory work in a very short time span." The Admiral continued, abandoning fancy words and mottos for the time being. "We brought together a very large team of psychologists, political analysts and other specialists. All have been working night and day to make this as smooth as possible and to prepare to every scenario. Once you rendezvous with the Nightview, these people are going to work closely with your crew and prepare them for the task. Dallas and Elessidil are still assigned to the Galaxy?"

Daren nodded.

"Good. I was told the Galaxy has a strong counseling department. We'll need each and every one of them to prepare the crew mentally."

"And once we reach the cluster?"

"Your men will divide to teams, contact the colonists, and help them pack and evacuate. The main 'think-tank' described how we want to do this quite accurately: 'With sensitivity and decisiveness'. With sensitivity, we hope to disarm any potential situations and make the transit as comfortable as possible. With decisiveness, we'll see to it that it happens, period."

"I think that this kind of operation requires more than a couple of weeks of preparation. My men will do the work, of course, but they are exhausted physically and mentally."

"It's an ugly job, Daren, but someone has to do it." The Bolian sighed, "I already explained to you why you are the best choice."

The Captain did not require any explanation. His stoic gaze remained leveled. Of course he will do it. He had his orders.

How many villains throughout history explained their actions with this exact explanation? 'I had orders'?

It was not that Daren was sure evicting the colonists was a mistake. The Hydrans indeed approach Vered, and Starfleet was spread too thin to protect the cluster. Plus, the Dreshayan claims weren't without a base despite the way the FNN tried to present things. It was one of these cases where both sides ? the colonists and the Dreshayans ? were half right.

But all of this won't make the task of pulling people out of their homes easier. In his mind's eye, the Captain could imagine women screaming at officers in uniform, old men sheding a tear, and brash idealistic youngsters waving flags behind barricades. All of this was waiting his crew, instead of the rest they deserved.

"Any other information I should know for the time being?" The Captain asked.

"Only that you are doing the Federation a great service, and that your effort is appreciated greatly. We'll iron the fine details face to face, not over subspace. My aides will send you relevant material and the standard mission dossiers we're giving to all of the commanders in the field."

"I understand."

"Sensitive and decisive, Captain. Remember that. Megarex out."

The screen went blank, and Daren's head sank a little more. Sensitivity and decisiveness. Indeed.

He made a short prayer to Allah, hoping that those behind Megarex truly thought it out.

"Making Promises"

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer

CMC Madden Jayce
Chief of the Boat

****

To say that Madden was happy to see the station destroyed would be an understatement; Deep Space Five had seen nothing but pain and tragedy in the past three years and for the structure to finally be out of its misery was a welcome event. Having watched from the bridge as it blew a day earlier, the Galaxy Chief of the Boat felt a little more at peace, as though something in the universe and entrenched deep within her own spirit was finally at rest. This was not to say that the scars left from her time alone and besieged on the Dithparu haunted station littered with the corpses of her colleagues were healed; it would take much more than a beautiful explosion for that. But at the very least she could categorically say that it was now done.

She just wished she had been able to be involved in the final sabotage.

The Hydrans hadn't followed, and as everyone chipped in to help with the post-battle clean up, Galaxy's crew was beginning to get back into its usual routine while they waited for the next assignment to come in. Given the situation in which the Federation had once again found itself, no one doubted it would take long for it to come. Yet in the meanwhile, they were content to decompress from the stress of recent events and to address issues they had been forced by violent necessity to postpone.

Such had brought her back to the bridge.

"Captain," the Master Chief said, leaning in toward the skipper, her voice low. "I was wondering if I might be able to speak with you a moment."

Daren looked up from the padd he was reviewing, studied Madden for a moment, and then nodded. "Of course, CoB. Give me just a moment here." He checked off several items, initialed them, and handed the padd back to the ensign waiting for it. As the young man headed for the turbolifts, Daren stood and motioned for Madden to follow him, "Let's use my office; there are some things I need to check there."

The petite Betazoid followed him into his ready room and paused a moment, watching her Commanding Officer. She respected M'Kantu in many ways. He had a command style that tended toward the traditional; he didn't get too close to anyone, kept a very clear diversionary line. He was the Captain. A lot of them didn't do that these days, many tried to be friends with their crew or, at the very least, their senior staff.

"I know you are busy, Sir, so I will make this brief. May I speak freely?" she questioned.

"By all means, go ahead."

She nodded. "I represent the vast majority of your crew. More than seventy percent of the people on this ship fall under my purview. They're the ones who are the front lines. It's simply the law of numbers. Yet I've continuously been excluded from staff meetings, meetings that on almost any other ship of the line my position would be included on. I was wondering why this was."

Daren paused for a moment and thought back to the long string of meetings that had marked his tour aboard Galaxy. Embarrassingly, the Master Chief was correct; even more embarrassingly, Daren knew the reason why. He sighed and waved Madden to a seat as he sat down himself, eyeing the now-cold cup of coffee on his desk and wondering how long it had been there.

"Because I'm old, Master Chief."

"You're old, sir?"

"I'm old, CoB -- or at least old-fashioned," Daren explained. "When I was learning command, the line between officers and enlisted personnel was, well, more defined. Sharper. More of a wall than a line to be honest; although the attitudes that led to that are likely well before your time. And despite the time that's passed, I'm still commanding in many of the same ways I learned back as an Ensign and a Lieutenant. I'm so used to the wall being there that I don't see it any more. Matters aren't helped by the fact that issues dealing with enlisted personnel are all handled by individual department heads and by you, so I never see them unless someone's about to be court-martialed. That's why." He leaned back and shook his head. "Not a particularly good reason, I grant you, and certainly an embarrassing one, but there it is."

"And Captain, I not only understand that, I can respect it," Madden said. "As any one of my people would be able to tell you, I like the traditions. I appreciate the separation, the distinction; in many ways, I even encourage and foster it. I think it can be good for everyone. But nonetheless, there are some things about tradition that have changed for a reason, and this is one of them. Enlisteds represent seventy percent of the crew and over eighty-five percent of the casualties. The most recent battle is proof enough of that. These people have unique issues and concerns and need to have some one with their specific interests sitting on major meetings, especially those involving tactical advances on a captured space station."

"Fair enough, CoB. I can't do anything about the past meetings, but I'll make certain that you're added to the list for any future meetings... and we both know that with a war on there are going to be plenty more of those soon enough."

"I appreciate that, Sir," she said with a curt nod.

"Is there any thing else?"

"No, Sir, that would be all. Unless you need anything from me?"

"No... Yes, yes I do," he corrected himself. "This is going to be a war, CoB. A real one, like the Dominion War, not the protracted battles we fought at Romulus. Many of the enlisted crew weren't out of basic training then, and they're not going to understand what it means... but you do. They need to be ready for it, to understand what's coming. Can you work on that?"

"Don't you worry," she said, tilting a somber half-smile toward the Galaxy's commanding officer. "I'm a step ahead. I'll take care of my kids if you take care of yours, and between us? I can promise you this, Captain -- we'll be ready for anything the Triad can throw at us."

"Well, You Asked..."

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Chief Counselor

Crewman Marcus Stiles
NPC

"Paxa root tea," Brian said, setting one cup of steaming beige liquid on the coffee table and keeping one for himself before taking a seat across from the young crewman.

Marcus Stiles had been coming to the counselor for a number of weeks now. It seemed that after only a few months aboard the Galaxy, stress was becoming an issue for him. Not an unusual situation by any means, Brian was actually enjoying what was by comparison a relatively simple problem. None of the of mind-boggling peculiarities of a Zev Raynor, or the non-stop combativeness of a Dhanishta Eshe. Crewman Stiles was the kind of person who was actually willing and able to be helped and for whom standard techniques of psychotherapy usually worked.

"Thank you, Counselor." The young man accepted the drink without hesitation. He was used to the ritual now: he arrived feeling somewhat anxious, the counselor began the session with a friendly smile and a warm cup of Marcus' favorite beverage, then Marcus relaxed a little, ready to talk and continue working on his state of mind.

"Well, how did it go this week?"

"Better, Sir."

Elessidil smiled. "'Brian' is still okay here, Marcus." Though he generally preferred a more relaxed atmosphere in his sessions, Brian made it a particular point to try to encourage Stiles to call him by his first name. It was one more way to ease the tension that the young man seemed to perpetually carry with him. "What made this week better?"

"Well, S-, Brian, I tried some of the, uh, the meditation techniques you showed me last time. Every day before my shift, I sat alone in my bunk and focused on what I had to do. I thought through my routine shift duties and the people who would be there and reminded myself that it was all familiar, that it was all stuff I'd been through every day before."

"That's good," the counselor said encouragingly. "Did you find that it made it easier to start the day?"

"Yes, it did. There was one day when Commander Corgan asked me to run a level-three diagnostic on all the brig containment systems and report back to him in three hours, but I did it. I didn't panic, I didn't start to feel light-headed...I just reminded myself that it was just a task, not a way to try to 'get me' or anything."

It was obvious that Marcus felt a bit of pride at this accomplishment, and Brian wasted no time in reinforcing it. "Marcus, are you hearing yourself? Three weeks ago you would have had a panic attack if Commander Corgan had even spoken to you by name. This time, you not only talked to him, you accepted a pretty significant task and performed it without it crushing you with stress. You should be very, very proud of yourself."

"Well, Sir, I uh, I guess I kinda am."

"That's fantastic. Did the report go well afterwards?"

The crewman beamed just a little. "Yeah, it did. He didn't really say anything about it, but he didn't seem like anything was wrong."

Brian chuckled. "I'm sure it was fine. He's not the kind of man to beat around the bush, you know. That's a very significant step, Marcus. Keep doing the morning meditation. Keep focusing yourself, remembering that most everything and everyone you're going to encounter in a day's work is something or someone you've dealt with before -- and now you can add level three brig diagnostics and Commander Corgan himself to that list." He took a sip of his tea, silently reveling in the moment of renewed self-confidence that washed over the other man.

"Now that we've got you on a good routine to start your day, we should look at some ways to reinforce your calm at the end of the day, especially at the end of a more difficult day." Immediately, Brian empathically sensed Marcus tense up inside at even the mention of the possibility of a more difficult day. Clearly, they still had some work to do. "Marcus, remember what we've talked about. Everyone has a hard day now and then, but it doesn't have to be something that breaks you down. If you keep yourself focused you can learn from those experiences and become stronger from them. You just have to remember that they're normal and that having a bad doesn't say anything about you as a person."

"I know," the crewman replied, his tone a little more tentative now.

"Let's say Commander Corgan gives you a task to do and it doesn't go well -- take a deep breath, Marcus, I'm just talking about a task that doesn't work out right away, not a complete disaster. Let's say your shift ends and you know the task didn't turn out the way you had hoped it would. How do you think you might react?"

"I- I'd feel like running away and hiding somewhere."

"Okay, that's not so strange. A lot of people would feel like that. The question is how are you going to deal with that feeling. You know you really can't go very far and that it's probably going to be something you'll have to face again sooner or later, but maybe as a first step you do something else to engage your mind. Almost like running away, but just for a bit, just long enough to clear your head. A holodeck program, maybe? Do you have any you like?"

"Well...yeah, I guess."

"Tell me about it."

"Well...there's this place on Risa I've been to...."

"Risa -- a very popular holodeck destination. Good place to relax. Tell me some more."

"Well, I don't go to the resorts or anything."

"Oh?" Brian inquired, genuinely interested.

"No. They're usually too crowded and stuff. There's a place further away, it's like a grassy field on a hill. There are trees, flowers...."

Brian could sense Marcus' mind slowly drifting into the idyllic scenario he'd described, an atypical sense of calm coming over him as he recalled the place in his mind's eye.

"I like to go there...well...." Stiles said, his voice trailing off with embarrassment.

"Go on," Brian gently prodded. "It sounds like a really nice place."

"Well...I like to go there...naked."

"Naked?" Brian repeated, grinning a little. "Nothing wrong with that. On Betazed we find relaxing naked more comfortable than anything."

Buoyed by the approval, Marcus continued. "The air is so warm there, and it just feels great feeling the warmth of the sun instead of the cold artificial light we're in here all day. I, I just like the feel of the grass beneath my feet..."

Stiles' cadence picked up a little, and Brian could tell that he'd found something that they could use for further focused relaxation.

"....and there are these sheep there..."

Sheep? The unexpected word echoed in Brian's mind for a moment.

"....they're so fluffy and warm..."

The *sheep* were warm? The counselor's grin began to fade as Marcus continued to lose himself in the scene.

"....and so cuddly and gentle...."

~Oh please...please don't let this go where I think it is,~ Brian silently prayed to any deity that could possibly hear him.

There was silence in the room for a moment as crewman Stiles drew his arms around himself, recreating the warmth he felt from the thought of his beloved holodeck program. Brian just sat there, frozen, watching with apprehension as the picture of serenity before him devolved into something more...disturbing.

Then Marcus' eyes rolled back in his head for an instant. "BAAAAAAAAN!"

Clutching his cup of tea, Elessidil stared, wide-eyed. His patient repeated the sound.

"BAAAAAAAAN!"

In all his years as a counselor, Brian had never encountered someone with this kind of....love....for animals. It suddenly became clear that stress was the least of crewman Stiles' problems.

"Um...Marcus...." there was a slight rasp to Brian's voice as he desperately tried to think of the most delicate way to handle this situation. On the one hand, it *was* Risa, after all; all manner of unusual things went on there (and preferably stayed there). He wasn't sure if it was the oddity or the unexpectedness of Marcus' reaction that concerned him more.

A moment went by before the counselor's voice registered and Stiles came back to reality. He seemed quite content, almost blissful. It was Brian who now felt stressed and uneasy, and the look of him holding onto a cup of tea like it was a life-preserver was hard not to notice.

"Counselor...I, I'm sorry. Did I say something...?"

"Oh, you said plenty," Brian hastily responded. "And uh, I think we should definitely talk some more about it. Later. Maybe next week even."

Marcus seemed a little perplexed but not embarrassed or concerned in the least about what he'd shared. "Well, sure....next week is fine I guess...."

"Great!" Brian said, forcing a broad smile as he rose to his feet to quickly escort Marcus to the door. "Next week it is. Same time. Keep up that meditation...."

As Stiles exited the counselor's office with a look of bewilderment on his face, Brian could only see one image: some poor unfortunate Risan sheep wondering what the hell was going on.

He realized that he would need the meditation this week more than Marcus Stiles.

"Still Not Early Enough"

Thorin Malik
Thorin Janna

****
Gamma Vered II
New B'Hala Colony

Morning broke early, too early, as it had a tendency to do. Groaning under the twisted pile of sheets, Malik rolled towards the center of the bed, trying in vain to escape the intensity of the sun's rays streaming in through the narrow windows on the western side of his house.

He'd never been a morning person, not even when he was a youngster. Oftentimes his parents and two brothers would be up hours before him, getting chores done while he snoozed away. His tendency to sleep in had led to his friends and family labeling him the lazy one of the brood, a nickname that was not entirely unjustified. But it wasn't that he hated the sunlight; on the contrary, he had enjoyed spending his days gazing out at the lush fields behind his family's modest house, watching the play of light through the leaves, dancing against the verdant grass and the few colorful patches of wildflowers that remained.

At least, he had enjoyed that until sometime around age fourteen. Until the inevitable day when he had woken up to find the fields on fire.

Cardassians, he'd feared, and his mother's screams traveling through the thin walls of their house only confirmed his fears. Body tensing unconsciously he'd rolled out of bed and grabbed the only item in the small bedroom he shared with his two brothers that could be considered a weapon. Barely over a meter long, he knew the walking staff wouldn't do much against the larger and stronger Cardassian soldiers. But he was a Bajoran, proud and strong, and almost a man grown. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Heart thumping loudly in his chest, the rush of blood through his ears making it nearly impossible to hear, he'd held on tightly to the smooth wooden staff and began to creep slowly from his room. Slowly, slowly he'd crept, sliding silently from his bedroom, bare feet making not a sound as he moved down the hallway towards the house's main room. Around the corner he could just see the metallic black and grey of the Cardassian military uniform, the sun through the windows playing off the textured fabric in strange ways. There were two of them, and they were standing with their backs to him, their attentions focused on something he couldn't quite see. If he could just creep closer, closer, just a little closer...

"Malik, no!" That was his mother again, the shrillness of her voice cutting through his thoughts. His eyes refocused on the situation, reflexes automatically warning him of the sudden danger from the very large, very shiny, very deadly pistol now being leveled at his head.

Time slowed (as it tended to do in these situations) as he dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding the first shot. A hail of green fire erupted above his head as he tried to scramble back to the relative safety of his room. Something suddenly tugged at his leg, weakly at first, then much harder as an iron grip clamped down upon his ankle, causing him to cry out in fear and pain. Swinging the walking stick blindly at his attacker he squirmed awkwardly onto his back...only to come face to face with the menacing grin of a Cardassian soldier.

"Going somewhere?" the soldier asked as he caught the end of the stick effortlessly in one hand. Malik froze, shock taking over, shutting down everything but the fight or flight response. And right now, he could do neither. The soldier's grin widened as he effortlessly tore the staff from Malik's grip and leveled his pistol at the boy. It was the last thing Malik saw before his world erupted in green fire and then everything went black.

And when he awoke--

"Husband..." There was a tug at the sheets, strong hands pulling them back, slowly exposing Malik to the warmth and the brightness of the sun. "Husband, wake up."

Groaning again, Malik tried in vain to roll away from the tugging, in the process getting his feet tangled up in the mess of sheets. He rolled again, and again...

And discovered gravity dutifully taking over, dragging him off the softness of his bed and onto the cold, hard wood of the floor.

Somewhere above him, his wife was snickering.

"Get up, lazy one," she told him, kicking half-heartedly at the tangle of sheets around his ankles. "It's late. Anton's been by already, at least a half hour ago."

"What about Kell?" Malik asked in a mumble, trying half-heartedly to extricate his feet from the sheets. "Surely he's..."

"Left for the site at daybreak."

"Ugh...and why did you let me sleep so late..."

"You needed it." She smiled, her grey eyes dancing with amusement, even though in his face-down position he wouldn't see her expression. After a moment, she squatted down and began to work on the sheets herself. "But now it's time--oh!"

Malik giggled mischievously as he reached out to circle his wife's tiny waist, pulling her off balance to tumble forward into his waiting arms. He embraced her tightly, feeling her body relax and respond to his as he showered her with kisses. "Mmmm...bet you didn't expect that..."

"Malik...Malik..." his wife tried to protest as she squirmed in his arms. "Malik, I've got customers downstairs," she finally got out, partially pulling back from her husband, "and you need to get dressed and get to work."

"So serious." He gave her an exaggerated pout as he watched her stand and dust off her already dusty apron. "You always have customers, Janna."

She frowned down at him, only half serious, and crossed her thin arms over her chest. "Alright, alright," Malik responded quickly, throwing up his hands in protest. "You win! You always win." Giving her a wink, he bounded to his feet with the vitality of a man half his age, then bent down to give her a light peck on the cheek. "I'll be down in a moment, love."

"You better," Janna replied, swatting him playfully on the backside before turning and sliding out of the small bedroom before he could do the same to her. Malik chuckled, watching her go before turning back to the windows, contemplating the rays of sunlight crisscrossing the room for just one moment more. Still too early, he thought after a moment. And still not early enough.

~Scientific Report~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astronomy and Physics

Cutter sighed as he typed up the last bit of his report for the captain. As chief of astronomy and physics, it was his responsability to research and report on the known astrophysical properties of the stellar systems they traveled to and the phenomena they encounted. He had to do little research, fortunately, as there were other scientists serving beneath him who dedicated their careers to such research. He merely had to compile and summarize their findings, which was relatively easy, but extremely time consuming. As he sent off the report, he sighed again, reflecting on his assignment to one of the colony evacuation teams. Which meant further delays in his personal research. Always more delays.

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

To: Captain Daren M'Kantu
From: Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Subject: Astronomical Topography of the Vered Cluster
Date: ----

This report covers the astronomical topography of the 'Vered Cluster,' the current destination for the USS Galaxy, NCC 70637. For easy access and assimilation of information, the structure of this report is as follows:

I - The Vered Cluster: A Stellar Association - general information about the cluster and its astronomical classification.
II - Evidence for a weak R-Type Stellar Association classification - a description of the thin nebula that surrounds the cluster.
III - Stellar members of the Vered Cluster - general information about the stars that compose the cluster.
IV - Profiles of individual stars and stellar systems - information about the stars and stellar systems in the cluster. This section is broken down by star, and then again by major planetary members of that stellar system.
V - Departmental Alerts

I - The Vered Cluster: A Stellar Association

The Vered Cluster is located on the border of sectors 26 and 27, two of one hundred sectors in block 211 (as defined by the current sectoring system of the Federation Astronomical Cartographers Union (FACU)), located in the upper, galactic core side of the Federation. This region of space lies on the edge of Federation protected space, near the claimed boundaries of the Hydran Sovreignty.

The Vered Cluster is, by technical definition, not a stellar cluster as its name would suggest. It is, in fact, a stellar association, and may be classified as an attenuated R-association.

Stellar clusters are groups of stars which are gravitationally bound. The species that appear within the galactic plane are Open Clusters, which contain up to a few hundred members within a region of space the size of a two-by-two-by-two sector cube. The members of an Open Cluster form at approximately the same time from the same cloud of interstellar material. Thus, all the stars in a cluster share similar ages, chemical compositions and proper motions through space.

The Vered Cluster, in contrast, is made of no more than a dozen stars in a region of space five light years in diameter. These stars share a number of commonalities, indicating they were all formed from the same cloud of interstellar material. These commonalities include:

Age - The stars in the Vered Cluster are relatively young, approximately two billion years old. This figure was first approximated using Stromgren photometry and fitting to the main sequence. Upon human exploration, samples from dust and asteroids in orbit of the stars were gathered, and the stellar ages were confirmed using isotope-based dating methods.

Proper Motions - All the stars in the Vered Cluster have very similar proper motions through the Galaxy, moving in an opposite orbit around the galactic core, compared to other stars in the stellar neighborhood.

Metallicities - The stars in the Vered Cluster all have above average metallicities, and similar [Fe/H], [Si/H], [C/H], [N/H] and other metalic ratios.

Thus, it is clear that the stars in the Vered Cluster were once part of a larger open cluster, but, at some point in thier history, were expelled. In fact, current literature suggests a larger stellar association remnant of the same mother cluster exists over 400 parsecs past the Romulan empire. The stars in the Vered Cluster are not gravitationally bound to one another. Their current proximity is pure happenstance. Therefore, this group should be considered a stellar association.

II - Evidence for a weak R-Type Stellar Association classification

While the stars in the Vered Cluster are not gravitationally bound to one another, they are surrounded by a very thin nebula of dust and gas which is gravitationally bound to the set. The metalicity of this nebular material matches that of the stars in the cluster, as does its age, as indicated by isotopic aging techniques. This suggests the material that makes up the surrounding nebula is left over material from the larger cloud from which the stars formed.

The nebula is quite sparse, and offers no significant attenuation of light in the visible spectrum. However, it is heated by the stars of the Vered Cluster and reradiates this energy out in the form of radio and microwaves, allowing the cluster to be identified as an R-type stellar association. The magnitude of this radiation is quite low, however, and requires significant observation time for a sufficient S/N ratio to be reached.

III - Stellar members of the Vered Cluster

As stated above, the Vered Cluster is made up of no more than 12 stars located within a region of space 5 light years in diameter. In other words, the average distance between any of the stars in the cluster is about 2.2 light years.

All stellar members are relatively cool, low mass stars. Alpha, Beta and Gamma Vered are classified as G-type stars (G4V, G7V and G9V, respectively). All are slightly less luminous than Sol. Delta Vered through Theta Vered are classified as K-type stars and Iota Vered through Mu Vered are classified as cool, red M-type stars.

Four of the twelve stars are members of a binary system: Beta Vered is partnered with Mu Vered and Zeta Vered is partnered Eta Vered. Three additional stars are grouped together in a trinary system: Epsilon Vered is partnered with Lambda Vered, and that pair is orbited by Gamma Vered.

Due to their high metalicity, all stars in the cluster have debree in orbit as a result of their formation, ranging in size to small asteroids and other planetecimals to terrestrial planets, to small gas giants. Please reference the following sections for more detail on individual stars and their stellar systems.

Theta Vered is analomous due to its very low mass stellar system. No planets or large planeticimals orbit this member of the cluster. It is thought that this star suffered a close pass by another star, possibly another member of the cluster, and the material in orbit of Theta Vered was gravitationally ejected.

IV - Profiles of individual stars and stellar systems

A) Alpha Vered

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B1) Beta Vered

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B2) Mu Vered

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C1) Gamma Vered

Gamma Vered is classified as a G9V star. It has a temperature of 5400 K, a mass of 0.95 Sol and a radius of 0.93 Sol. It has a sidereal rotation period of 24.75 days. It is not variable and electromagnetically stable, for a star of its type.

Gamma Vered is part of a trinary star system. It is considered to be the third member as it orbits the other two members, Epsilon and Lamba Vered, in an elliptical orbit with a major axis of 213 AU, or in other words, greater than four times the distance between Sol and Pluto.

Gamma Vered has five major planetary bodies, three of which are terrestrial. They are designated Gamma Vered I, II, III, IV and V, and orbit at a distance of 0.44 AU, 0.81 AU, 0.87 AU, 1.12 AU and 3.4 AU, respectively. All are terrestrial planets except for Gamma Vered IV, which is a small gas giant. This star is also surrounded by a very loosely organized asteroid belt, or cloud, at a distance of 8.3 AU.

C1. A - Gamma Vered I - Gamma Vered I orbits at a distance of 0.44 AU and has a mass of 0.3 Earths. It is too close to its star to not massive enough to hold an atmosphere. It is classified as class B, geomorteus, or as class D, barren, and has geology similar to that of Mercury and Luna.

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C1. B - Gamma Vered II - Gamma Vered II is quite large, with a mass of of 1.12 Earths and a radius of 1.06 Earths. Its orbit falls into the habitable zone of its star. Gamma Vered II has a stable atmosphere which is composed of mostly Nitrogen and Oxygen, with trace amounts of Carbon Dioxide, Neon and other gases. Its atmosphere maintains an average surface temperature of 12 C, and its surface is covered with considerable amounts of liquid water. This planet is classified as class M, and is readily habitable by humans.

The planet's surface is approximately 50% water, 42% land, and 8% water ice. It has a rotation period of 26.4 hours and an axial tilt of 31 degrees, and so its seasons are more pronounced than those experienced on Earth. Because of this, areas above 40 degrees latitude are considered largely uninhabitable.

Climate in the habitable areas is mainly subtropical and temperate, but the temperature variations between seasons are much more pronounced than those on Earth.

Beta Vered 2 has two moons, designated a and b, both of which are about 0.2 Earths in diameter. The gravitational pull of these two satellites causes ocean tides that, when combined with certain weather phenomena, can be rather catastrophic.

Please see attached geological report for more information on this planet's geological and climatological systems.

C1.C - Gamma Vered III - Gamma Vered III is quite large, with a mass of 0.80 Earths and a radius of 0.75 Earths. Its orbit falls into the habitable zone of its star. Gamma Vered III has a stable atmosphere which is composed of mostly Nitrogen and Oxygen, with trace amounts of other gases. Its surface is covered with considerable amounts of liquid water. This planet is classified as class M, and is readily habitable by humans.

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C1.D - Gamma Vered IV - This planet is a small gas giant with reddish-orange tint. It has a mass of 42 Earths. It has for major satellites, designated Gamma Vered 2a through 2d, the largest of which, Gamma Vered 2c has a mass of 0.86 Earths. All satellites are tidally locked to the gas giant, and so experience a sidereal rotation period equal to the orbital period around the gas giant.

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C1.D.a - Gamma Vered IVa

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C1.D.b - Gamma Vered IVb

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C1.D.c - Gamma Vered IVc - This is the largest moon in orbit around Gamma Vered IV. It has a mass of 0.86 Earths, and thus is able to maintain a thin atmosphere, which is composed mostly of Argon, Oxygen and Carbon Dioxide. It has an orbit that sits on the edge of its planet's radiation belt and Gamma Vered IV sits at the edge of the stars habitable zone. As a result, this moon is classified as class L, marginal, and is capable of supporting human life.

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C1.D.d - Gamma Vered IVd

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C1.E - Gamma Vered V - This planet is moderately sized, with a mass of 0.75 Earths and a radius of 0.6 Earths. It orbits outside its star's habitable zone and has an average surface temperature of -120 C. It maintains a very cold atmosphere consisting of Nitrogen, Methane, Argon and Carbon Dioxide, and its surface is covered almost entirely with water ice. As a result, it is classified as class P, glaciated.

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C2) Epsilon Vered

Epsilon Vered is classified as a K1V class star. It has a temperature of 4800 K, a mass of 0.88 Sol a radius of 1.02 Sol, and a rotation period of 17 days. It is not variable and electromagnetically stable, for a star of its type.

Epsilon Vered is part of a trinary star system. Its closest partner, Lambda Vered, is the second dimmest member of the Vered Cluster and orbits at a distance of 23 AU, or a little farther than Uranus is from its star. The third partner, Gamma Vered, orbits at an average distance of 213 AU.

Epsilon Vered has four major planetary bodies that are in orbit of it, designated Epsilon Vered I, II, III and IV, and have an orbital distance of 0.43 AU, 0.67 AU, 0.72 AU and 1.43 AU, respectively. All are terrestrial planets. This star is also surrounded by an asteroid belt at a distance of 4.3 AU, which is most likely a failed planet that was ripped apart by the gravitational interaction with Lambda Vered system.

C2. A - Epsilon Vered I - This planet is small, with a mass of 0.049 Earths and a radius of 0.363 Earths. It is too small and is too close to its star to maintain an atmosphere. Thus, it is classified as class B, geomorteus, and has geology similar to that of Mercury.

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C2. B - Epsilon Vered II - This planet is quite large, with a mass of 0.92 Earths and a radius of 1.01 Earths. Its orbit falls into the habitable zone of its star. Epsilon Vered II has a stable atmosphere which is composed of mostly Nitrogen and Oxygen, with trace amounts of Argon and Carbon Dioxide. It has an average surface temperature of 16 C, and its surface is covered with considerable amounts of liquid water. This planet is classified as class M, and is readily habitable by humans.

Approximately 82% of the surface is covered with water, 16% with land and 2% with ice, centered on the planets poles. The land mass is organized into thirteen small continents.

Epsilon Vered II has a sidereal rotation period of 18.7 hours, and therefore spins faster than Earth. Its atmosphere is slightly thinner, and maintains a less effect greenhouse system than Earth does. As a result, the days get quite hot, but the nights get quite cold. This, coupled with the larger Coriolis forces creates severe wind patterns on the planet's surface.

During the day, winds blow in from the seas onto the land masses, driven by the cooler, higher pressure air that sits atop the oceans. At night, as the land cools back down, these winds shift direction and blow back out to the seas, whose top air is now warmer and of lower pressure. These winds have an average speed of 65 kph, with gusts up to 120 kph.

Epsilon Vered II has an axial tilt of 8 degrees, and therefore experiences only very mild seasons.

Epsilon Vered II has no known satellites.

Please see attached geological report for more information on this planet's geological and climatological systems.

C2. C - Epsilon Vered III - This planet is quite large, with a mass of 0.88 Earths and a radius of 0.95 Earths. Its orbit falls into the habitable zone of its star. Epsilon Vered III has a stable atmosphere which is composed of mostly Nitrogen and Oxygen, a small amount of Carbon Dioxide and trace amounts of Argon and Neon. It has an average surface temperature of 22 C, and its surface is covered with considerable amounts of liquid water. This planet is classified as class M, and is readily habitable by humans.

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C2. D - Epsilon Vered IV - This planet is of average size, with a mass of 0.55 Earths and a radius of 0.75 Earths. It is on the far edge of its stars habitable zone, but does maintain an atmosphere, composed mostly of Nitrogen and Carbon Dioxide, with trace amounts of Argon. It has an average surface temperature of -30 C, and its surface is covered with considerable amounts of water ice. This planet is classified as class K, adaptable, and has geology similar to Mars.

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C3) Lambda Vered

Lambda Vered is classified as a M9V class star. It has a temperature of 2550 K, a mass of 0.45 Sol a radius of 0.07 Sol, and a rotation period of 43 days. It is not variable and electromagnetically stable, for a star of its type.

Lambda Vered is part of a trinary star system. It orbits its larger partner, Epsilon Vered, at a distance of 23 AU, or a little farther than Uranus is from its star. The third partner, Gamma Vered, orbits at an average distance of 213 AU.

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D) Delta Vered

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E1) Zeta Vered

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E2) Eta Vered

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F) Theta Vered

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G) Iota Vered

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H) Kappa Vered

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V - Departmental Alerts

There are no significant alerts to specific departments. The reflection nebula with create a small amount of interference with radio communications and low frequency EM sensors, but nothing that will impede ship's functions.

Crewman Sneden has written a program that will compensate for the nebular emissions in communications and sensor readings. This program, and information about its function and parameters will be forwarded to the relevent departments in a separate report.

Incoming Tide

Will Lysander: Assistant Mining Operations Director - LV 427 (Brass Monkey), Gamma Vered IVc

**** LV 427 - Mining Operations Building ****

"Morning Will," called out Knute Simpson to his assistant as he entered the Operations Centre of the Brass Monkey Mining Colony.

Will looked up from the over padded executive chair that faced the wall of screens, showing scenes of mining equipment and miners digging out the crystalline latinum that was sold to the de Beers Group. Other scenes showed the raw crystalline latinum being processed and being turned into it's pure liquid form. On another screen showing armed guards in view, their expressions very serious, a machine added tiny amounts of rhenium and tantalum in the latinum, to identify that the latinum was from Brass Monkey.

As he watched his boss come in, Will just nodded - "Still cold outside?"

Brass Monkey was a desolate moon, just on the edge of the biozone of the stellar primary for the system, Gamma Vered - the sky was a perpetual grey of cloud and the wind continued to blow from the day side to the night side of the tide locked satellite of the huge gas giant that was a vague shape of colour through the clouds. The atmosphere was thin, but breathable - but nothing about Brass Monkey was comfortable.

"Nope, I think we've got that heat wave that Meteorology said was coming in - must be all of zero outside. Christ, I'll be glad when they get the climate fields back up. I won't have to worry about the cold suits," returned Knute. "What came in from Terra, last shift? Oh, Gerri invites you and Inidria to dinner tonight"

Will nodded, "Love to," as he got up from the seat, as Knute sat heavily down into it, "As to communications, the usual waste of electrons. There was an encoded message for you, but I've got an idea of what it might say. There is also a message for you from the Vered Colony Council."

"Yeah?" returned the suspicious Knute, from Terra and VCC at the same time - that meant trouble.

Will nodded as he reached out and tapped a screen control, the FNN symbol appeared on the screen, with a voice over of a female voice saying "Up to the minute news - thirteenth of November, twenty three eighty four at 0300 Earth G M T," as the text slowly appeared and faded on the screen.

The screen changed to the huge Federation Council Building in Geneva as the female voice continued, "Top of the summary is the order of the Federation Council for a mass evacuation of the Vered Cluster of Colonies. It is understood that the council has ordered Starfleet to send in one of the giants - Daren M'Kantu and the USS Galaxy in helping in with the co-ordination and security of the operation." The screen showed the Galaxy in port of one of the Federations Deep Space Stations.

"With the recent clashes with the Hydrans which are not far from the colonies, grave concerns are held for the colonists and their lives, with the displays of open aggression from the Hydran Kingdom."

"The Vered Colonies have been a bone of contention between the Dreshayans, who govern that area of space and the Federation. The Dreshayans have always claim that area of space it's own, and was part of a wider empire from long ago. While a number of archaeological sites have confirmed the existence of a society a millenia or more ago, there has been nothing to suggest that the ancient society had any contact with the Dreshayans or they a part if it at all..." Knute's face began to show comprehension and then started to darken.

After Will had stopped the file, he watched as Knute listened to the encoded message from de Beers on Terra and from the VCC, Knute's face just darkened even more. With that look on his bosses' face, Will was right...there was going to be an uproar.

"More then twenty fucking years - I've worked my arse off. I've got over a million credits in this venture, everything I fucking well own..."

Will just watched as Knute started to rant, he was thinking the same thoughts, since he saw the file a couple of hours ago. He'd had the chance to cool down...but take Knute reactions and multiply by a hundred times - because there were going to be over a hundred miners feeling the same thing.

While the mining colony was a part of the de Beers Group, it was a corporation owned by the people who worked on the mines and kept it going. Everyone of them had money on the colony. Money that would have in a little over five years time would have brought in massive returns. Everyone here would have been multi-millionaires. Will could have returned to New Paris, with more money than his father had ever dreamed of, and it would have been a simple pleasure to stuff that down his old man's throat for denying him any access to the Lysander Family money.

"What does Leuwen say," Will started...

"de Beers have dropped us like a fucking hot potato - they won't be giving us any support at all. They lose a bit of revenue - we lose everything. 'We are sorry that we are unable to provide any assistance at this time.' We are officially on our own," returned Knute.

"What about the VCC?" Will asked.

"Standard bullshit about cooperating with Stafleet and the transport ships that are coming in, yada, yada, yada..." Knute had stood up, "Well, the whole lot of them can sit on a twenty seven thermal corer before I leave this place. Get me an uptodate invent on weapons and supplies - and I want the fighters up and ready."

Will watched as Knute looked up into the air and yelled out, "BAAAAAAAAN! You big eared, fat useless arse. In my office, NOW! I know you're watching."

A few moments later, the jagged tooth smile of a Ferengi came in - B'Han was his name, even though the hewmon Knute always forget the inflection just after the first letter, and he was a large investor in Brass Monkey. He was also the colony's procurer of many things that could not be found leagally. He was the centre of all things criminal on the small colony, but everybody ignored that fact as he tended to attract money.

Will looked at him, as the Ferengi smiled at Knute, "Well?"

Bhan still kept the smug smile, "I think I can provide some backing, but it will cost a lot. They will charge for what you need."

Knute nodded, "Just fucking remember, where most of your credits are!"

"I certainly do remember, K'Nute. Do not concern yourself hewmon - we will all be very rich and powerful."

Knute turned his attention to Will, "You two, I want this colony ready for any thing. Will, I want a meeting of all shift supers in two hours time. No one is going to take this place, neither the Federation or Dreshayans, or anybody that ends in a 'shun."

Will looked at him, wondering if Knute and everybody here on Brass Monkey were going to be capable in holding back the tide of people that wanted to take away their colony away from them.

"May I point out once more"

Colonel Arvelion

And

1st Lieutenant Branwen London

"Sir, do you have a moment?" Branwen had mixed feelings as she knocked on the commanders door. She didn't like being ignored, and the fact that Dar was now first officer gave her very mixed feelings. She was both proud of him and jealous.

The chronometer on the wall read 13:00, meaning he still had half an hour to wait before he was supposed to meet his wife for lunch. The thought was enough to bring a smile to his face, particularly after that joke she told over breakfast... besides, he was going to lunch in half an hour, and could use a good reason 'not' to work before then. Paperwork was a pain, and although he was usually quicker than the average about it, there were just some points in the day when you didn't want to work, and would rather just kill time.

Branwen looked like she had some genuine concerns... so what better a reason to take a pause? "Of course Lieutenant, please take a seat. What can I do for you?"

"Several things Sir." She hesitated for a second. "First I need to talk to you about your appointment of Captain Maivia. There have been some murmurs amongst the crew about your picking another former Miranda officer as XO. That and the fact that they don't know him very well yet."

This again? She was lucky For'kel was in a very good mood, otherwise he might have snapped. Calmly, he sat a little further back in his chair and linked his fingers together. "He was the next highest ranking officer, Lieutenant. That was all there was to it."

She took a deep breath. "With respect, sir. I know he is the highest ranking officer, but sometimes that is not the only thing to take into consideration. I thought you wanted to build one unit as fast as possible, there is still a division between Galaxy and Miranda personnel." She was not going to back down from this.

"And with respect Lieutenant, you're the only one noticing this division."

For'kel raised his eyebrow as he leaned forward. "There were only two officers assigned to this detachment before we arrived, Lieutenant. That was Baile, and yourself. Baile is no longer my problem, and your position as the unit's psychologist, in my opinion, would be inhibited by the burden of an executive officer's responsibilities. Though I'm not against field commissions when the situation warrants, in this case it was simply more logical to promote Captain Maivia.

"There's also Lieutenant Ward. There were more Lieutenants." She said. "And I am not the only one noticing it, I am the only one speaking out to you." She went on. "The troops are still getting used to you. I am doing my job." Branwen took a deep breath, Dar was not going to like this. "I also suggest that Capt Maivia speak to one of the navy shrinks a couple of times. My reasons for asking are confidential, and I cannot see him myself."

"Lieutenant Ward is 'not' a Captain." Why the hell was it that everyone on this ship seemed incapable of following the simplest, logical order?

Branwen, Ophelia... even the Captain as of late had gone cavalier. Was it something in the water or what? "He's a fine and capable officer, but his forte is in reconnaissance, and with any luck he will be an excellent training instructor and platoon leader. His skill set is simply needed elsewhere more, as is yours, and to be quite frank there is no way in any one's 'hell' that I would let Baile hold the title of Executive Officer in any of my units, let alone while I was in command." Presuming he made his position clear on that subject, he turned to the issue of Maivia. "As for the Captain, I'm not going to subject one of my officers to counseling sessions arbitrarily. I need a cause, Lieutenant."

"Well sir,.... counselors don't have to give a reason. Only in case of something being seriously wrong and there isn't. I would just prefer him to work through some issues from his past. And to relating to people better." She said feeling edgy, Bran was on very shaky ground. "And counseling isn't that bad. However you still haven't had your eval."

For some reason, For'kel chuckled. "I have to hand it to you Lieutenant, that was a great way of sneaking the question of an evaluation in there." He sat back in his chair again, still a bit on 'edge' as it were from the Deep Space 5 'mission'. "I'm not going to force Man'darr to see a counselor. You can pursue it if you like, but if he tells me he does not need counseling... I will not question the words of one of the Marines under my command. As for the required evaluation, I'm ready whenever you are."

She blinked. That was easier then she though. "Uhm want to do it now, or make an appointment? And please don't mention it to Dar.... I mean to the captain. I will do it myself, okay?"

"Absolutely fine if that's what you wish." What happened privately was best left in private. "And now would not be best for me, I'm hoping to meet my wife for lunch. How about an appointment?"

"yes sir." Bran got out her organizer. "When would be a good time for you?"

"What are your office hours?"

"They vary sir. I usually make pretty long hours." She blushed. "I am in by eight and leave somewhere around eight in the evening most days."

"How about first thing in the morning?"

"Fine sir. I will pencil you in." She came to her feet. "One more thing, sir. I don't know if the captain has told you yet, but we are getting married as soon as possible." Bran smiled.

Fork smiled. "Congratulations Lieutenant. You two should join my wife and I for dinner one of these nights."

"Thank you sir. I would like that. And I hope you can be there at the wedding. It would mean a lot to us." She was nearly at the door. "It would be a great honor." He couldn't help but feel a little better about things now. "I'll ask Berilyn what day is best for her for dinner. Have a good day Lieutenant." "You can tell me tomorrow, sir." She grinned and left.

"A Cowboy and a Cyborg Walk Into a Bar..."

Lieutenant Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
Lieutenant J.G. Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova

===

For the first time, Nathan strode confidently into the Galaxy's lounge, casting his gaze about as he sized the place up. Being at the far forward edge of the saucer section, the view was astounding, and much of the furniture was pretty similar to the Miranda's cantina, though obviously the layout was much different.

He glanced over at the bar and couldn't help feeling a little wistful; no matter how good the bartenders here on the Galaxy were, things just wouldn't be the same without Zaphod. Still, he had to make do with what his new ship gave him, and if he was going to make himself a regular here, he had to give the new people a shot.

Cowboy wandered over to the bar, glancing around at the small but lively crowd and smiling a little. After being stuck in the lower levels of Deep Space Five for so long, it felt good to be back in a familiar setting. He sidled up to the bar and ordered a drink, engaging in a friendly chat with the bartender and getting an idea of what the people were like here in Ten Forward.

"So, who around here're yer regulars?" the New Texan asked.

The bartender looked around for a moment, not recognizing any of his usual customers at first. Then he nodded toward the far end of the bar, where a rather attractive woman with short black hair was sitting by herself.

Nathan's eyebrows rose slowly, and he grinned crookedly as he bid the bartender farewell and made his way down the bar to join the woman. "Hey there, darlin'," the pilot greeted as he eased himself into the seat beside hers. "Why're you all the way down here by yerself?"

Valentina looked up from the PADD sitting on the bar next to her drink. "Usually it's for the silence," she remarked with all seriousness. Oddly enough, there was plenty of noise in the lounge. "Actually, it's because it's lonely in my quarters. I'm not what you'd call an outgoing personality."

And there was truth in that. As Eve, she'd been more or less all about the job. Then, as her 17th century persona she didn't know anything or anyone, and had been allowed out of her quarters for so little. The Borg changed that, and after her tousle with them she emerged as a more complete individual .... who still didn't really understand the nuances behind going out of her way to meet new people.

"Ah see," Nathan replied, glancing for a moment down at the PADD. He then looked back up the woman and leaned forward slightly, one of his eyebrows dancing up a touch as he smiled at her. "It's the opposite fer me, mah quarters're anythin' but lonely right now. Ah got a roommate to deal with. Well, he isn't really a roommate, so much as a pain in the ass who isn't s'posed to be here," he added with a short, good-natured laugh.

Val gave him an odd look. "How did that happen? I'd give you some tips on dealing with unpleasant roommates but I don't have any. I've never had any roommates." At the expression he gave her for that remark she decided to elucidate. "Intelligence didn't think it was wise for their 'pet cyborg' to bunk with someone during the Academy, and somehow I got a similar treatment when I arrived here. Always had my own room."

"Yer a cyborg, huh?" Cowboy asked, intrigued. He smiled again. "When Ah first saw those lovely eyes of yers, Ah took you fer a Xenexian."

"Xenexian? What do they look like?" Here we go, off on a tangent. "But yeah, I'm part machine. Guess which part of me isn't real," she finished, grinning playfully.

Nathan returned her grin with one of his own. "Ah'm afraid Ah don't know you quite well enough to guess that just yet," he answered, and extended a hand to her. "Mah name's Nathan."

She took his hand in hers with a firm grip and shook with a polite bow of her head. "Valentina." Her hand was warm to the touch, and felt exactly as a human one would. There was nothing that would give it away if someone didn't know. So she held it up between them after they let go. "Not my original hand," she said.

"And what about that one?" he asked, nodding to Valentina's other hand.

She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt today, light gray in color with black slacks and shoes. She extended her left arm to him, nodding to let him know she was OK with him touching her limb. "Try and guess."

Nathan set his drink down and reached out to Valentina, gently placing his fingers on the skin of her arm. He carefully examined the limb, giving Valentina a charming, lopsided smile as he slowly ran his hand over her arm, trying to determine whether or not it was made of flesh. "Would you hold it against me if Ah got it wrong?" he asked teasingly.

She even got goosebumps from the gliding touch of his skin against hers, a light shiver running up her spine. "I might," Valentina replied, giving him a wink and a grin of her own. "I might hold it against you if you got it right, too."

He laughed then and, still running his hand over her smooth skin, shook his head. "Ah honestly can't tell, darlin'. Whoever it was that did this to you musta been damn good at his job." Nathan finally let go of Valentina's arm and sat back slightly, smiling at her. "But if Ah had to guess, Ah'd say it's not the original, either."

She nodded, rolling up her sleeves to show him the faint lines running around her shoulders, the division between living flesh and synthetic skin. "Complete, up to the shoulders; knees down are the same as are a few others, like my eyes."

"Well, whadya know, the Starship Galaxy's got its very own Bionic Woman," Nathan said with a soft laugh. "This certainly is a first, Ah've never met a cyborg before. Not that Ah'm complainin', mind you," he added with a wink before taking a sip of his beverage.

Valentina shrugged, downing the remaining contents of her own drink. "So what is it you do Nathan?" She could have just as easily accessed his bio using her PADD but that would have been rude. This gentleman had been polite enough to approach her, so she felt that an equal measure of respect was required.

"Ah'm a fighter pilot, just transferred to the Vanguards," he replied, more than a little pride evident in his voice. "What about you?"

"I thought you would have guessed already," Val smirked. "After referencing myself as 'Intel's pet cyborg.'"

"Well, yeah," Nathan began, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, "but what do you do? You an analyst? A field agent? A glorified coffee-maker?" He gave her a playful smile with that last one and then finished the last of his drink.

"Technical Operations," she said after several moments' pause. "My job focuses on all of the special toys the grunts get to play with."

Nathan noticed her hesitation and slowly looked around, as if checking to make sure nobody was watching them or listening in on them, then leaned in a little closer, a roguish grin on his face. "Ah'm not askin' about secret, sensitive information Ah'm not s'posed to know, am Ah? Ah promise, darlin', whatever secrets you divulge'd be safe with me."

"Well, I wasn't going to reveal any secrets or anything." The barkeep arrived and refilled her glass. "I was just ... thinking .. " the look in her eyes said something different, in fact.

He leaned back again and nodded to the bartender to refill his glass as well. "Somethin' on your mind, Valentina?" he asked a moment later, noting the look in her eyes.

"Well ... " She looked down, then out at the stars. "Sorta ... " looking back at Nathan, Val shrugged. "I don't know?"

Nathan chuckled. "Well, Ah'm no counselor, but mebbe Ah can help." He sat back in his chair, holding his drink in one hand as he watched the woman.

Val looked at him warily. "What do you have in mind?"

Nathan shrugged innocently. "Ah only meant Ah'd be willin' to listen if there was somethin' you wanted to talk about," he said honestly.

"Oh," she looked a bit crestfallen at that. Perhaps she'd had too much to drink? "Uhm ... "

Nathan's eyebrows went up as he watched Valentina. Finally he laughed and set his drink down on the bar, then stood up and gently took the woman's arm. "Alright, darlin', Ah think you've had enough to drink fer one night." He glanced up at the bartender, who grudgingly nodded, then looked back down at Valentina. "C'mon, Ah'll walk you home."

Val nodded. Standing from her seat she had to grasp the bar in order to stay upright. Unfortunately she misjudged, grabbing Nathan's arm instead. "Sorry .... First time my balance has gone out on me."

"Whoa!" Nathan said as he reached out with his other hand to help stabilize Valentina. "No problem, darlin'. Ah don't mind havin' a beautiful woman fallin' all over me," he added with a light-hearted grin. He helped her gain her footing, and then he began leading her out of Ten Forward and to the nearest turbolift. "Uh, where're yer quarters?"

"Deck 8, Section 16," Val replied. Surprisingly enough despite the loss of her sense of balance she spoke perfectly fine.

"Right." He held on to Val as they walked, chuckling as she stumbled while they entered the turbolift. He glanced down at the woman as they turbolift took them up to deck eight, then gave her a nod as the lift stopped. "Just let me know when you see it," he told her as they made their way to section sixteen.

When they arrived at her door she nodded, pressing the panel to open her quarters. "Wanna come in for a minute?" She asked. She would need the help at least getting to the couch.

"Uh..." Nathan hesitated for a moment. He knew he had to be very careful here. "Alright, but just fer a second. Ah don't want you fallin' and hurtin' yerself after Ah leave." He helped Valentina inside, looking around for a moment before noticing the couch, and heading over towards it. "Nice place," he complimented as he helped Valentina sit down.

"Thanks," Val said, smiling to him as she pulled him down to the couch. "Stay with me a little bit please?" she asked.

"Alright," Nathan said, swallowing as he sat down next to Val. They sat there in silence for a moment, Nathan trying to look anywhere but at Valentina. He didn't like where this was going. "So..." he began, tapping his hand on his thigh.

"So what do you like to do?" was her next question, sidling up next to Nathan. "I'm afraid I'm lacking in 'real' hobbies .... "

"Um..." He cleared his throat. "Well, lotsa stuff. Let's see, there's...Ah lahk to fly, obviously. Uh, Ah play basketball, Ah box sometimes, Ah read holonovels..." He looked around her quarters again, trying to think of a delicate way to get out of there. "Y'know, it's pretty late, mebbe Ah should--"

Valentina had fallen asleep at this time, her head settling on his shoulder. She sighed softly, a small smile gracing her lips as she snuggled into his side.

Nathan looked to his side and let out a soft, quiet laugh as he saw that she had fallen asleep. Shaking his head, he very carefully maneuvered himself out from beside her and stood up, gently laying Valentina down on the couch. She stirred a little, but remained fast asleep.

Cowboy looked around and spotted a throw blanket over the back of a chair, and he quietly crossed the room to retrieve it, then laid the blanket over Valentina's sleeping form. He straightened then, shaking his head again as he looked down at her.

"Sleep tight, darlin'," he said with a smile before turning and walking out of her quarters, making sure to turn the lights off before he left.

"Quick Letter Home"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom

==USS Galaxy==

While waiting to be shuffled off to sickbay, Jaal decided to compose a quick note home to let his sister and parents know he was all right. Surely by now, they'd heard the news concerning Deep Space Five's destruction.

Janeen would most likely get the note first. She was currently stationed on Starbase Atlantis. Communiques typically took longer to reach the civilian sector on Trill, where the rest of his family lived.

He banged out a quick note to his sister and then one to his parents.

"Vicious rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated," he began. "True, my ship was destroyed and I was stranded on a Hydran controlled DS5 for a few days, but all that is behind me now. The USS Galaxy came to our rescue and that's where I'm currently at until I receive new orders. There is the slightest possibility I'll stay on this ship but I'm really hoping for another command of my own. I'll know more once I talk to Captain M'Kantu. I'm sure he'll remember me from our tangle with the Hydran starbeast and the Battle at Havras. Gotta run now, I'll send more news when there is some."

Once his PADD was connected to the Galaxy's network he hit send.

Now, with any luck, he wouldn't be worried about so much. Well, honestly, there was no way to stop the worrying, but at least he could curb it somewhat.

"Procedure"

Detective Conrad Day Civilian Detective, Tuscany Police Department, Area 7

Lt. Amanda Johnston Starfleet Detective Liaison

Various NPCs of the Civilian Tuscany Police, Crime Scene Investigators

Location: Personal Quarters of Former Lt. Alex Rodriguez

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

Protocol. The word simply screamed at Conrad as he gingerly stepped through the open door of the personal quarters of Lt. Alex Rodriguez, Starfleet Security officer. His badge flashed arrogantly from his waist, announcing his right to be there as he nodded to the officer protecting the door. Glancing to his left, then his right, he took in the scene before him. Crime scene investigators offered him cursory nods of acceptance that were laced with facial warnings not to touch anything. If it was a crime scene, the investigators regarded the detectives as bulls in a china shop.

It felt like every other crime scene. Stuffy.....with the stale air of death mocking the living yet still. It would never be the same....these quarters. Shortly after clean up, his personnel effects would be boxed up and transported to the next of kin. The rooms would be sterilized and sanitized the best that the modern day could afford. Despite all this, the killing would haunt these rooms forever.

Stepping towards the body, Day raised a single solitary eyebrow. Typical for a Vulcan. It was as if he was saying with his eyebrow alone that the logic behind this type of killing eluded him as it usually did. Johnston was close behind her unofficial partner, shaking her head lightly as she studied his reaction.

"He's dead Day."

"Indeed." He simply responded.

They both lowered their vision to the bald head of the Orion woman bent over the body. Her eyes raised, offering them a tight smile.

"One shot to the head...ancient weapon....the slug was found in the wall." Her hand outstretched, with a long green finger pointing to a small hole in the wall. "There is also evidence of a burn from a phaser set on stun I think....there." Once again, her finger pointed gingerly to the blacked flesh around the exposed area of the victim's right wrist. "And....his nose was broken." Her simple statements were backed up by grizzly facts that stared them blank in the face.

"Why...."

"Why not?" The visor ed new comer offered. "He wasn't exactly a nice guy according to work mates."

The Starfleet detective just nodded, jotting down various notes in shorthand onto her padd. Her eyes raised, taking in the scene before her analytically. "Why would anyone kill someone with a gun? That's so....barbaric."

"To make a point." Day calmly responded.

"But what kind of point?" She whispered as she studied the slumping form of his body. "Next of kin?"

From somewhere, a baritone voice responded. "Ex Wife...stationed on board the USS Galaxy. JAG officer."

"Huh...." Amanda's mind continued to spin. "Informed?"

"Has been...should be getting the message now."

"Death benefits?"

"Yes...rather large in fact." Another voice offered.

"K. I need her file sent to my office....we will go from there. Everything procedure here people...no screw ups. This guy was more than just a regular security officer...."

Stepping around the body, she nodded to Day... as the two exited the scene.

"Seconds"

Lt. Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu, CAG

Hydran Minefield

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

The first died easy.

The first was *always* easy. It was the way of things in a Starfighter, and Quattro knew it better than most who chose to serve in a cockpit. As the runabout went to warp in a flash of white light, the Nassari managed a direct phaser hit on the aft shields of the foremost target followed by a multi-missile. The Hydran disappeared in an ochre puff of flame and exhaust vented into a total, merciless vacuum.

The two remaining Hydran pilots had learned caution their fallen sisters passing, and peeled expertly off in opposite directions at different velocities. Jarajen smiled, narrowed his eyes and punched up his vectoring system after the faster target. The dance began, as it had begin decades before over the azure skies of Nassari, centuries before over the clear blue horizons of Earth, and thousands of years before amongst the thick, orange clouds of Hydra Prime.

Bank. Fire. Bank. Chaff. Chaff. Chaff. Bank. Roll. Fire. Pull. Bank. Fire.

The dance was an old one, and the dancers usually judged either terribly brave or irrevocably deranged by the culture that spawned them. The sort of individual with courage or madness enough to cram himself into a cockpit bolted to an armed warp nacelle, or anti-matter rocket, or supersonic jet, or canvass and wood biplane. Yet bravery or sanity were not the issue for the flier - it was craftsmanship... and skill. Jarajen Quaaliu, Count of Velgertaa, and veteran of over a decade's worth of or warfare watched the twin targets on his HUD dance gracefully away from his fore weapons arcs and knew that he faced pilots of equal skill to his own. The realization brought both admiration and a shiver as the Nassari felt the cold caress of his own mortality.

Pull. Bank. Bank. Fire. Bank. Chaff. Bank. Chaff. Chaff. Chaff. Bank. Roll.

Part of the Nassari's mind appreciated and admired the tempo of the dance, the other part knew that his survival depended on breaking the rhythm that the Hydrans were beginning to control.

Roll. Bank Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.

Every seeking missile he had was sent at the primary target, and while the sleek Hydran starfighter sought escape with maneuvering and chaff, Quattro punched his vectoring system to maximum. The Federation starfighter that Jarajen flew was less maneuverable than the Hydrans and had less firepower at short range, but it was faster. The signal on Quattro's scanner became a silver gleam amongst the dull-grey grid of Hydran mines, but only for less than a second. Then it loomed full size as their shields crashed together like white lightning.

Jarajen matched the alien fighter's speed and heading for an instant, then banked hard towards the smaller Hydran craft. More electricity arced, and part of the minefield was momentarily brightened by the shields' fury. The effort managed to move the Hydran fighter only a few degrees off course, but it was enough for the Nassari's goal. His proximity to the Hydran mine on the other side of the alien fighter was enough to trigger it.

White gave way to bright orange when the mine exploded. The Hydran took the brunt of the damage and broke up into a bright trail of sliver and blue, but Quattro's starfighter took enough to put the shields, impulse engine, warp reactor, and all weapons offline. The pale green of his HUD and scanners were joined with the bright red of over a dozen warning lights and alarms flashing in the small cockpit, but all noise was extinguished except for the quick, shallow sounds of Jarajen's own breathing.

Small pearls of violet that Quattro knew to be his own blood floated across his eyes to hide behind the black spots that were closing in from the edge og his vision. The Nassari was groggy, but awake enough to see death before him.

Gracefully, the remaining Hydran fighter matched Jarajen's spinning course. It edged closer, until he swore he could see the three eyestalks of the enemy from within its own visor. A tentacle pointed at the helpless pilot, then whipped it seven times over the Hydran's head. Finally, after a moment's pause, the Hydran tipped the nose of her craft towards the Federation fighter.

Quaaliu saw the Hydran's fusion cannon crackle a brilliant cobalt blue, and raised his dimming eyes at the alien before him. Before the dance had started he knew that this would be the outcome. The alien fighters were too agile, their pilots too competent in their craft. Still, the dance had been magnificent in its own way and Jarajen Eschaan F'adjil Quaaliu, last Count of the Velgertaa could think of no better way of meeting his venerated ancestors.

But that meeting didn't happen.

Not believing his eyes, Quaaliu watched as the Hydran powered down her fusion cannon and once again tipped her fighter towards his. The tentacle whipped once more over the enemy's head, and the silver fighter banked effortlessly past Quattro's starboard side. A flash of blue moments later and the enemy was gone, already light-years away after the Nassari's first sigh of relief.

As his adrenaline ebbed, Jarajen began to shake and managed to cast a quick glance at his fighter's flickering chronometer. The dance had lasted one-hundred and sixty three seconds.

"The Gorn Imperative"

Gorn Council Chamber, S'sgarnon Prime

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

"We offer what the Gorn have always wanted, yet never had the opportunity to achieve."

The speakers' words echoed in the large, incense filled chamber and his dark jewel-like eyes looked not at his audience, but at the mummified remains of honored Gorn leaders who stared down at their descendants from enshrined alcoves. Despite the objects of his attention, every living reptilian head was cast his way held by the power of his words.

"Your First Contact was with the Romulans, then with the Klingons", he said in a loud, rich baritone. "Centuries of warfare with two races bent on your enslavement. Two powerful empires, who at the height of their might could not make the Gorn bend to their will. It is a testament, my new friends, to your courage, perseverance, and tenacity."

A basso, hissing murmur rolled amongst the reptilian Councilors and the speaker fed upon it like a bee to nectar. The discontent was there, and he knew his words had struch chords the Gorn wanted.... no, needed to hear.

"Each time the Rihannsu or Klingon struck, the Gorn struck back harder - much, much harder. Fiercer. Weakness is not a trait of your great civilisation - how so few could defeate armadas of so many prove it! Why then, did such a people who struck fear into the bravest Klingon heart - allow *leaf eaters* to take Cestus III?"

A deep voice yelled "Jesss'thai" and was joined with with a loud, rumbling chorus of the Gorn name for that world, but the speaker held up his hands and brought a reluctant silence to the room.

"No - it is Cestus III. It is the right of the VICTOR to name the spoils of war!"

More noise - roaring this time, mixed with snarls and the flashing of fangs. The split was certainly there. Those in robes of black-and-white joined with those in blood-scarlet to debate those in shades of green, yellow and orange. ~Ah, the split. Warrior castes, ruling caste, merchant castes, worker castes. All the correct elements of society without the grace of cohesion and control. How easily they bite at the bait!~ The speaker lowered his hands as the debate intensified, careful not to grin or smile.

A quiet, consistent tapping grew to powerful hammer-like blows as a monstrously large Gorn robed in purple - easily several heads taller and several times more massive than the speaker, brought down the butt-end of a large iron-capped staff onto the rough, sandstone floor. "THERE WILL BE ORDER!"

The silence was immediate, but not absolute. A low, growling hiss rippled amongst the Counsilors as they resumed their seats. The large Gorn, a matriarch in the prime of her years, scanned the assembly finally setting her golden eyes on the alien speaker. "Yesss - thisss one... defeat isss in our memory. Ssso are recent victoriesss." She raised her voice louder, looking each of the representitives as she spoke. "The Dominion War and the eventsss preceeding it alsssso bear relevence here. Do we forget Ssslesh, Khaaar and the Black Cressst's coup? Do we forget that it wasss Picard and the Enterprissse who brought the renegadessss to our jussstice? Do we forget how we fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the Jem-Hadar and the Foundersss? Ambasssador, the Hive ssseemsss to have a ssselective memory that prefersss to focussss on the ancient passsst. We have had a century'ssss peace on our frontier with the Federation - can you boassst the sssame?"

Tochar Veinn, Favored of the Queen finally smiled - revealing his thin, needle-like teeth. "No. The Hive has ever sought to be left alone - we are xenophobic, and prefer our own ways and company. Yet we are also curious, and seek to explore new phenomenon. Strange then, how our space - like your very own - is surrounded by the Federation, and bordered by other hostiles? Where can we go? Where in the Quadrant can we cast our eyes to space unspoiled by Federation ships? I'm certain you can boast the same!"

The roars that erupted were uncontrollable now, Tochar surveyed the chaos as the warrior castes confronted those who would dispute the truth of the words just spoken. They had remained wordless ideas in the warrior's psyche for over a hundred cycles, and having then voiced fueled their anger. The ambassador's smile faded when his eyes settled on the staff-bearing Speaker of the Gorn Council, who bared her own formidable fangs and put forth a deep, resonating growl the T'Kith'Kin male could feel against his exoskeleton.

"Music Lessons"

by Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin and Cadet Artemis Bancroft

***

It felt good to be wearing a Starfleet uniform again.

One of the first things Sharzhevashi zh'Rin had done upon her arrival onto the USS Galaxy was to shower and put on a clean uniform. She had even considered donning some of the cold weather gear for surveys in arctic terrain. Her quarters, unadorned with anything but standard decor, at least for now, were nearly sweltering. It felt good to surround herself with warmth, at least after the station.

Once clean and dressed, she reported in, but was not needed for duty at least until the next rotation. For the time, she had the liberty to explore the ship and familiarize herself with what would now be her new home. She made the deliberate choice not to check for any subspace messages. She would attend to that later, once she felt more settled. She didn't want to alarm her bondmates or her sister with the tale of her near demise. However, with the Hydran attack and the Triad's actions, it was not unlikely that her sister would soon be in the thick of the conflict as well. Hopefully none of the Triad will seek to harm her homeworld.

Taking the turbolift down a few decks, Shi turned along one corridor. Her eyes moved along, trying to catalogue locations for later. It was the pilot's job to know where she was going, whether it was the Elurian Nebula or Science Lab 2. Perhaps technically, knowing what occupied each section of a ship was not her job, but it offered a sense of security knowing that if she needed to find something, she might have a good chance of having already seen it.

Up ahead, Shi could see the familiar doors of the holodecks. It had been some time since she had even been inside one, but there would be plenty of time for that later. One of the doors stood open, and she could see what appeared to be a darkened street scene of some type. The walls were covered in graffiti and looked as if they had been involved in a war of some sort. Oddly, she could hear music coming from inside.

Smiling to herself, Shi started down the corridor to see what lay further on. She was stopped in her tracks as a very unmusical sound blasted through the open holodeck door.

"BAAAN!!"

Shi hurried to the door, expecting to find Thyago in side. Instead, she found Mickey standing next to Artemis Bancroft. The vulcanoid cadet was playing a guitar that plugged into an amplifier against one wall, she was shaking her head at Mickey.

"No, mate," Artemis said over the guitar. "Close, but not quite. Here." She strummed her fingers along the guitar and sang, "Born to be free. Black skies surrounding me. Break out beyond the sky. Bring your dreams, it's time to fly." She nodded to Mickey. "Have a go, mate."

"BAAAN!!"

Artemis grinned. "Much better," she said. "You've got a gift for music. Oh, hey Shi. How are you?"

Sharzhevashi smiled and stepped into the holodeck. "I am very well, thank you," she said. "How are you settling in?"

Artemis shrugged. "They gave me a place to stay, but they don't quite know what to do with me. Probably going to send me back to Earth and the Academy. Until they decide, I was trying to give my friend here some singing lessons." She glanced around, and Mickey was already gone.

Down the corridor from the holodeck, though, they caught a final lingering note: "BAAAN!!"

"He's got a set of pipes on him, I'll give him that," Artemis said. "You like music at all, sir?"

"You do not need to call me sir, Artemis," Shi said. "I enjoy music, though I am afraid I am not very good."

"It's been my life's blood," Artemis said. "My mum, she had a band and everything before Starfleet. I guess it was unavoidable for me to fall into it. Still, I love it." She continued fingering the guitar, pulling a playful tune from the guitar. "Would you like to sing? I can play, and you can sing along."

Looking slightly uncomfortable, she shook her head as her antennae pulled closer to her skull and almost disappearing into her white hair. "Thank you, but I do not believe I am ready for a public performance."

Artemis smiled and nodded in understanding. "Of course. It's an open offer, you know. If you ever want to. Or if you just want to listen."

"Thank you," Shi said with a smile. "I should continue on with my tour of the ship. I'm trying to get familiar with everything before another crisis happens. I'll see you soon?"

Artemis grinned happily. "Definitely soon, and hopefully they won't be shipping back to the Academy right away."

As Shi turned and hurried from the holodeck with a wave back to Artemis, who mirrored the gesture.

With a smile, the Andorian continued exploring the ship.

OOC: I apologize for the rambling and somewhat incoherent nature of this post. It was sort of writing itself so, for better or for worse, I just let it continue...

"Nothing Good"

a.k.a.

"The Rambling and Incoherent Thoughts of a Bored Doctor"

Andrew Spencer
Sopek

*****
Gamma Vered II
New B'Hala colony

"Awfully quiet this morning."

The comment, only half directed towards the Vulcan hunched over the small desk in the corner of the room, sounded significantly louder than it normally would have in the overwhelming quiet of the physician's office.

"Agreed, Doctor," the Vulcan responded softly, his focus unwavering.

Whatever Sopek was looking at, Andrew thought, must have been incredibly fascinating. Then again, Sopek did have sort of a one-track mind and was well known for focusing on a task to the exclusion of everything else in the world (up to and including his own health and personal well being...strange for a Vulcan), so maybe it was nothing spectacular. Shrugging, Andrew crossed his arms across his broad chest, moving idly in the general direction of the office's front windows.

The sun rose at the back of the building that contained the offices shared by the colony's small team of doctors, and so the narrow brick street that passed before the building was still covered in shadow. Leaning forward so that his face was almost pressed against the thick glass of the windows, Andrew craned his neck about, trying to see if the street was truly empty, or if people were just choosing to avoid this section of North Branch for some reason.

No, he decided after scanning the entire visible length of the street, from the modest Northern Square all the way down past the expansive Central Square and its towering white spire, the area was truly empty. "Curious."

Several moments passed before the Vulcan, Dr. Sopek, decided that it would be logical to respond. "Oh?"

Turning away from the window, Andrew studied Sopek's form for a moment. He still hadn't moved. "Nothing," he responded after a moment. "Just...thinking."

"I see," Sopek commented dryly before letting the room return to silence.

Yes, whatever it is must be incredibly fascinating, Andrew mused once more. Pacing slowly about the waiting room, struggling to fight boredom, the youngish doctor couldn't stop himself from moving through the few short rows of chairs and trying to straighten things up. Anything to keep himself busy.

But that was why they had a cleaning woman, he reminded himself after a minute or two. If he spent all his time cleaning the office, Chaya wouldn't have anything to do in the evenings and that would make her feel useless. And if Chaya knew that Andrew had been cleaning up, it might make her feel unappreciated, maybe even insulted. Sighing a bemused sigh, Andrew forced himself to stop lining up the chairs just so, making sure they were all perfectly straight, their sturdy wooden backs just barely touching one another. Chaya would have given him hell if she'd seen him doing it. She was an unassuming woman, barely five feet tall and well into the autumn of her life, but if there was one thing Andrew had learned in the nearly nine years he'd spent in New B'Hala, you did not want to piss off Abino Chaya.

Nine years. Had it been that long? That length of time seemed simultaneously too short and too long. Too short, because if one measured by local years and not Federation standard years he'd actually been here at least fifteen years. And too long because, as he'd always heard, time flies when you're having fun.

The past nine years (or fifteen; whatever, he thought) had definitely been the best years of his life. When Andrew had made the somewhat rash decision to head to the Vered Cluster and New B'Hala in particular, he'd been a completely different man. A workaholic bachelor newly discharged from Starfleet, the former Chief Petty Officer H. Andrew Spencer, MD had never before experienced life outside of some form of regimented program. He'd enlisted in Starfleet as soon as he'd graduated from high school and left the home of his strict parents, he'd gone from Basic Training straight to Advanced Medical Training, and then been shipped off to his first assignment as a Field Medic right after that. And from there he'd spent twelve years giving his all to Starfleet and the people he helped save along the way, never imagining that he'd ever actually follow through on the urge to get the hell out of the military and take up some sort of higher calling.

But, all that had changed somewhere into his third year stationed on Bajor. That had been....oh, sometime in 2372 he thought. Maybe. The six years he'd spent helping to rebuild that decimated civilization had been mostly a blur of tears and pain, dust and blood, but at some point during that time he'd had a change of heart. Maybe it was because he met someone who'd changed his world view, or maybe it was because he'd seen one too many abused and forgotten half-Cardassian children. Whatever the reason, CPO Spencer had somewhat suddenly decided that he didn't really want to be out here on the front lines, pressed in among the screaming and the crying and the death and the heartbreak. Sure, he loved helping people, and he was a more than capable doctor, and he really couldn't see himself doing anything else for the rest of his life. He just wanted to practice medicine someplace...quieter. Smaller. And not falling apart because of the wanton destruction perpetuated by a civilization that didn't understand the concept of playing nice with their neighbors.

So, he supposed it had been the "will of the Prophets" (whatever that meant) that had caused him to meet, rather by chance, Captain Heler Talia. At the time, Captain Heler had been the so-called commanding officer of the rather interestingly named Hasperat Express, a transport ship that had been cobbled together using parts from old junk ships from just about every major Alpha Quadrant power at the time. That probably should have clued Andrew in to the fact that Talia was a bit of an oddball, not quite commanding, definitely not an officer, and probably not someone who should have been piloting anything, much less a goliath of a ship like the Express.

"It's a special kind of spicy; nice and salty," Talia had told him when he'd first laid eyes upon the ship, "just as a hasperat should be."

That was one memory of Bajor that Andrew remembered with absolute clarity. Looking back, he wondered why he hadn't turned and run for his life, or fallen over laughing at the skinny woman's off-the-wall comments.

But Talia had seemed like a nice enough person, and she'd been more than persuasive in trying to get him to go with her after his time in Starfleet was up. This "New B'Hala" colony she kept talking about seemed like a decent place to settle down...small, out of the way, nice weather...kind of. So once he'd hit twelve years in the 'Fleet he'd retired, received an honorable discharge, boarded the weird little ship (well, it wasn't *that* little), and never looked back.

And that had been nine years ago. Well, fifteen if you counted by local years. How old did that make him again?

Andrew lightly tapped his foot on the ground, thinking through the math. When I left the 'Fleet I was thirty one. So that makes me...

"Holy crap, I'm almost forty!"

That exclamation certainly caught Sopek's attention. Turning deliberately, the Vulcan looked at Dr. Spencer, one eyebrow creeping slowly upward. "Doctor?"

Andrew's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he realized he'd said that out loud. "Nothing, Sopek...nothing. Just...ah, forget I said that."

"Physical age should not weigh on your mind so, Dr. Spencer. With age comes wisdom," Sopek continued, apparently oblivious to Spencer's request to ignore the comment. Or maybe he was just choosing to ignore it... "I myself am..."

"Well over a century old; I know, Sopek."

"Yes, Doctor."

"What the heck are you doing over there, anyway?"

"I am reading the news feeds, Doctor."

"Ah."

Andrew sighed again, letting the silence descend upon the room once more. Almost forty, his thoughts echoed, the numbers bouncing around in his head. Forty. Forty. Almost forty, settled down, happily married with one kid and a second on the way. How the hell had that happened?

Oh wait...slowly and carefully, just like pretty much everything else he'd done in his life. That was how it had happened. Sure, he'd met Julia Aleksandrovna Zhmaev fairly soon after he'd arrived at the colony and set up his practice...within the first month, actually. She'd lived almost her entire life in the Gorod Tonnelya colony on Epsilon Vered Three (no wait, Two) and had grown sick of living in a city under the ice. One day she'd come as part of a group that wished to trade goods with New B'Hala, and instead of returning home with her family she'd decided to stay. Liked the warmer weather, she said. Liked the sun, too.

Well, Andrew couldn't really fault her for that. The weather was quite nice, especially in the summer (well, kind of). And it would be summer soon enough.

Anyway, it had taken five years of dating before Andrew had worked up the courage to ask Julia to move in with him. And it had been another three before they'd been married. By Prylar Heler Talia, no less. Yes, like most every other Bajoran in the colony the tiny little oddball captain had returned to the d'jarra of her ancestors, which for her had meant she'd found religion. Andrew and Julia's wedding had been her first official wedding. Four years later she'd baptized their first child, a girl named Jessica, in a hybrid Bajoran/Terran ceremony. And in about six months she would do the same for their second child.

"Doctor."

Six Gamma Veredian months, that was. Oh, this whole year thing got so confusing at times.

"Doctor."

Andrew was looking forward to that day perhaps even more than he had looked forward to Jessica's birth. The kid would be born in the early fall...just when the leaves began to turn. He loved fall. Not as much as he loved summer, but almost.

"Doctor Spencer."

Was that...oh, yes, Sopek was trying to get his attention, wasn't he? Must be something important. "What is it, Sopek?"

Sopek looked towards Spencer, swiveling the small computer console towards him. On the screen, Andrew thought he saw a few familiar names within the scrolling text. Colony names...?

"Nothing good, Doctor. You need to see this."

"He who waits.."

Lt Jebidiah Baile, USMC.

Marine barracks. USS Galaxy

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

Scents.

It tingles. Starts reactions. Starts me.

It's like the dogs of Pavlov. But there's no dinner when the bell tolls. No reward. No pat on the head.

There's just me.

Baile.

Remaining in his quarters during the engagement had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Sweat had poured down his back in a near endless stream. Every jolt, every wave of fear, anger and aggression had been mirrored inside of him in a pure and unwavering desire to do battle.

A wounded tiger in a cage. Pacing back and forth. Trying to find a hole in the fence, in the promise he had made to Bental. Stay. Don't move. Stay there like the dog you are. The fighting had been so close. So very close. He had almost been able to taste it, like a drowning man craves the air he needs to survive.

Deep breaths. Deep. In. Out. In. Out. Be in control.

He was ready. Ready to leave it all behind. Leave Starfleet behind. But he had made a promise. One final fucking promise. To Bental.

It wasn't fear of Bental and what he would do to Baile if he broke the promise that stopped him. Bental was dangerous in his own way. Baile in another. Fearing Bental would probably be a wise thing but the last few weeks contained everything but wisdom.

On a basic level maybe he did fear him. Not the man, but the assets the man controlled. Breaking Bental's back would have been easy but what purpose would it have served?

None.

The reason the marine refused to break the promise was far more simple than that. And far more complicated. It was a link. A dock in which he had placed the last remains of his humanity. A desperate attempt to postpone the inevitable.

Every day he felt his humanity and resolve erode. Every hour. Water crashing upon the rocks, slowly wearing them down.

Every day he felt new instincts replace his own. Every day. Every hour he shrunk. Faded and soon there would be nothng left.

Would he have lasted longer had the war not come? Had he not felt the bells toll when the fighting started. Had he not felt it echo inside of him when the first blow fell?

You would have fallen anyway.

Amen.

Truth according to genetics. The great X and Y gods had spoken.

You have fallen.

No. Not yet he hadn't. Bental would get his intel. The self righteous little prick would get the information he needed to kill. Then, and only then would he fall. Only then would he give in.

Would they come after him? Of course. Would they find him? Maybe.

The marine leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting down. His mind was filling up with voices and scents he had never heard or sensed before. He didn't understand them. There was no logic to them. No... sense.

Just one thing.

Fuck.

The one factor he couldn't figure out.

Dhani.

Rock and a hard place. Part of him wanted to kill her. Part of him wanted to protect her. Both parts in perfect balance. An inner struggle. Did it represent anything?

You think way too fucking much, Barbie. Get your head in the game or get the hell out of Dodge.

Definately too much thinking. All the pieces were there but refused to fall in place. A bottle of cheap booze would have cured that in the old days. Now it cured nothing.

My eyes burn.

He closed them and focused his thoughts on the pain once more, letting it fill up his world until the drums of war in the back of his mind faded into nothing. The Hydrans had returned. Hydrans and their gods.

I'm coming for you. All of you.

~Flying Lessons~

Thyago Carneiro
Nathan Everett

"Here," Thyago said, handing Nathan a large, complicated jumble of aluminum rods and nylon feathers, "Put this on."

Nathan cautiously took it, unsure what the contraption was or what he was supposed to do with it. "What the hell's all this? Ah thought we were gonna go flyin'r somethin'," he said. "Y'know Ah got a plane, right? Ah mean, we can just go down there and use it."

"No no," Thyago said, as he moved over to another jumble of rods and feathers which was laid out on the floor.? "We're not going flying. Well, I mean, we are, but, not your flying.? My flying.? Ta me entendendo?? Asar.? Winging.? We're going to go winging."

"Wingin'?" Cowboy asked dubiously, his eyebrows knotting together as he once again examined the jumble in his hands.

"Yes.? It's like the official sport of Titan.? We have, like, our own Winging Olympics and everything," Thyago explained.? "Now, put on your suit."

Nathan looked at the contraption he held in his hand for a moment, then back at Thyago. "Uh, how?"

"Tartarugo, nao esta um abacaxi!? Okay, Deadwood, look," Thyago said, picking up his suit.? He lifted one set of rods which were almost three feet long and aligned around an imaginary cylinder.? A sheet of feathers hung from them.? On one end was a handle and a series of levers connected to small rings, just below a sort of hinge, which was connected to another few rods about five feet in length that also supported a sheet of nylon feathers.? "This is a wing.? Your arm goes in here, between these rods.? Your hand goes here, around this handle and your fingers go through these rings here, which are the controls. Okay?? And here is the other wing, for the other arm."

He pointed to the two ribbed pieces of fabric that the wings were connected to.? "The wings are connected to these support plates, this one for the back and this one for the chest.? On the back, here, this rod is your is gliding wing lock bar.? This vertical Y-shaped bar connected to that is your leg lock bar.? The straps here, attached to the arms of the Y-bar, go around your legs.? Lastly," Thyago said, pointing to the separate piece of the suit that looked like shin guards with kites attached, "These are your tail feathers.? They go around your lower legs.? Here, watch me as I put mine on."

"Where'd you get these?" Nathan asked as he watched.

"Oh, I had my own suit on the Miranda.? Its in storage, though, not on the Galaxy.? So, I had to replicate these.? Oh, yeah, you're down half a month's replicator rations."

"*Ah'm* down?!"

"Yeah.? I don't have any rations.? I'm not part of this ship, remember?? So, I had to use yours.? You should really change your password, dude.? The release date of the Rogue starfighter?? Wow, predictable *and* nerdy."

"You..." Cowboy barely stopped himself from wringing the smaller man's neck. His mouth closed angrily, and his eyes narrowed as he looked away. "Knew Ah shoulda listened to Rena when she told me to change that," he muttered.

"Well, if you do, it would be good for me if you kept it just as easy to guess."

"Just shut up and tell me how Ah'm s'posed to use this stupid thing."

"Okay, so this is how it works.? Right now, we're in land mode.? The main wing is folded up and your legs are unlocked," Thyago said.? He let go of the handle in his right wind and slipped his arm through the rods, so he could bend his elbow.? Then, he pointed to the main wing, the portion attached to the five foot long rods which was folded up, so that the rods ran vertical, in parallel with the rods that supported the armed section.? As a result, the wing reached up two or three feet above their heads.? "You will want to lower the wing, first.? So, push this button on the handle, here, and that will release and reverse the lock."

He demonstrated with his other arm.? He extended it out in front of him, so the folded wing jutted out behind him.? Then, with his thumb, he pressed the button on the edge of the handle and wing whipped around the 180 degrees and locked.? Now, with the full wing, his reach extended about eight feet.

"Okay..." Cowboy slowly mimicked Thyago's actions, slipping one arm through the rods. As he lifted his arm to extend the wing, however, Nathan's arm slipped awkwardly through the last ring, and the wing flared out to the side, smacking Thyago across his face.

"Gah!"

"Oh, damn! Ah'm sorry!" Nathan said, turning to look at Thyago in concern. As he did, his wing swung back around and smacked the engineer again. "Oops!"

"Foda!? Dude, caralho!" Thyago shouted, "Stop hitting me!"

"Alright, alright, Ah'm tryin'!" Cowboy answered wildly, maneuvering his arm to finally get it in the proper place. Finally, he got it figured out, and managed to get both wings locked into position. He gave Thyago a sheepish grin. "Sorry 'bout that..."

"Okay, now lock your legs together by pressing the little carabineer things together so they lock.? All right, now, this is how you fly, okay?? You'll be, like, lying down, so when you flap your wings, you're going to pull them forward, in front of your chest.? Be sure you pull these levers, just by closing your fist.? That keeps the wing straight.? Then, when you bring them back up, release the levers by opening your hands and the wing will fold down, like this," Thyago explained, demonstrating the proper motion.? "You don't want to push against all the air on the way back up.? It's also good if you tilt the wings a bit, too, but that'll make sense once your in the air. When your ready for the next downstroke, pull the levers again, and the wing will snap back straight."

"If you want to glide, its best to lock the wings to the back bar, so you don't tire out your arms.? To lock them, hold them flat, and then flick this switch with your thumb, which folds the hooks over.? Then, flick it back again to unlock and you can flap again.? Lastly, your thighs are naturally locked to the Y-bar, which keeps your body flat. If you want to dive, or land, or whatever, to unlock your legs, you pull down on this ring with your ring finger, like this," Thyago said, pulling the ring and bending over in demonstration.? "That's pretty much it.? You think you're ready?"

"Uh..." Nathan looked down at himself, and wondered who exactly thought that this would make for a fun sport. He glanced at Thyago again and reminded himself that Titan seemed to produce more than its fair share of harebrained people. "Sure. Let's do this."

~Never planned on livin' to see thirty anyway,~ the New Texan thought nervously.

"Okay.? Computer, activate program," Thyago called out, and the holodeck they stood in transformed.? The walls of the medium sized room disappeared, leaving nothing but wide open landscape.? The black floor turned brown and dusty, and an edge appeared.? They now stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast canyon.? The still air began to stir, and a strong wind began to blow, buffeting their faces.? And the gravity weakened, causing each of them to lose two thirds of their weight.

"These are Titan conditions.? If you wanted to do this on Earth or something, you need a personal anti-gravity emitter," Thyago explained, "Okay, get ready for a good chest workout."? Then he dove head first off the cliff.

Nathan watched wide eyed as the Brazilian dove down the length of the cliff, gaining speed, until he rotated his arms ever so slightly, and his body swung out and away from the wall and up into the air.? Then he watched as Thyago flapped his wings once, twice, and on the third, lift his calves and spin his body up into a vertical loop.? "Come on, yo!" Thyago called.

Silently praying to whatever gods there were left that still cared about his fortunes, Nathan took a deep breath and leapt off of the cliff's edge. He fought off the impulse to close his eyes as he plummeted toward the ground, and tried to move his arms similar to Thyago in order to generate some lift. At first, nothing happened.

He knew that the holodeck's safety protocols wouldn't let him be smashed on the ground, but his body's instinct for survival refused to believe that. Adrenaline rushed into his system, and Nathan panicked. He let out a yell as he closed his eyes and looked away, flapping his arms wildly.

Well past the time when he should have felt himself lightly hit the ground, Nathan instead felt nothing but the wind surrounding him. He blinked and timidly opened his eyes, and nearly lost it when he realized that he was now hundreds of feet in the air, not too far away from the hovering Thyago.

"Whoa!" Cowboy shouted in shock. He flapped his arms/wings again and inadvertently looked down, almost losing control of his wings and plummeting to the ground once more. "Damn, this is nothin' lahk bein' in a plane!" the fighter pilot breathed, surprised to find that he was actually a little terrified at the moment.

"Well, its nothing like being in a spaceship, obviously.? But, I think its very similar to an airplane.? Well, except, you don't flap your arms in an airplane.? Usually," Thyago said as he made his way towards the pilot.? Then, he noticed Nathan look down and freak out.? "What's the matter with you?? You're acting like your afraid of heights. Are you afraid of heights?!"

Cowboy shook his head. "Ah'm not, it's just...it's different from what Ah'm used to, y'know? Not sure Ah like havin' nothin' between me and the ground..."

"Well, even if you plummeted down to the ground, you'd only hit at about twenty miles per hour.? Parachutists land on earth at about fourteen or so.? So, you know, a couple broken bones.? No big deal."

"That's reassurin'," Nathan grumbled as he awkwardly tried to bring himself level with Thyago.

"You gotta open your hands on the upswing," Thyago said, watching Nathan's form.? "You're going to tire yourself out doing it that way, keeping the wing straight the whole time."

"Right," Cowboy said as he made the adjustment. He immediately noticed how much easier that made things for him, and he grinned at the Brazilian. "You're right, that feels a lot better. Wow, Thyago, fer once you actually know what yer talkin' about."

"What?!? I always know what I'm talking about!"

"'Cept fer all those tahms when you don't, right?" the pilot retorted with a smirk. He looked around at the holographic recreation of Titan. "So, this is where you grew up, huh?"

"No, I grew up in Xanadu," Thyago said, "That's on the other side. This is Coats Canyon, in Aztlan.? I think.? I don't know.? I wasn't specific when I requested the program.? But that looks like the Button plateau over there."? Thyago gestured with his head, indicating the large geological feature the protruded from the duned desert floor several kilometers away.

"Mah mistake," Nathan answered as he continued to look around, taking in the scenery.

"You're losing speed," Thyago called back as he watched Nathan lag further and further behind him.? "You'll want to push back more than you push down."

"Oh, sorry." Nathan did as Thyago said and began to catch up with him again. "Got kinda caught up checkin' the place out; Ah've never seen Titan before." He looked over at the engineer. "So how fast can you go with these things, anyway?"

"I can only go, like, eight to ten kph in no wind, I would guess. But, racers can get up to fifteen or so," Thyago explained.? "But, there's always going to be wind, which speeds you up.? And, of course, you can dive, which ups your speed a bit.? Like, I can easily get up to twenty-five to thirty kph if I dive from above ninety meters.? I think the record is over fifty."

Cowboy let out a quiet whistle. "Not bad. So do y'all just fly around fer no reason, or is there more to Wingin' than this?"

"Oh, well, there's racing, of course.? All types of racing: up, down, horizontal, distance.? And there are a couple of sports, like anelbol-- or, um, ring ball, and, uh, snipe.? I do more acrobatics and aerial gymnastics," Thyago said.? Then he suddenly dove down, picking up speed until he arced back up in another vertical loop, as he had done earlier.? But this one was tighter, and he looped thrice, before he darted off sharply to his side in a horizontal circle, which turned into a figure eight, before he angled upwards, pumping hard against the air to bring himself back to Nathan's height.

"Do you want to try and do a flip?"

Nathan stared at Thyago. "You mean lahk you just did?" The Brazilian laughed, "Well, you can just do one if you want."

"Uh..." He looked around at the landscape of Titan, his eyes glancing up to take in the clear, expansive, seemingly unending sky. Nathan felt his heartbeat speed up, and he swallowed nervously.

"Are you all right?" Thyago asked, noticing Nate's face of discomfort. "You don't have to."

"Yeah, yeah, Ah'm fine," Cowboy mumbled, shaking his head. "Okay, let's give this a shot." He took a deep breath and then followed Thyago's earlier motion, diving downward. He felt the wind buffeting him as he swooped toward the ground, and as he looked upon the ground he began to relax a little.

He manipulated his wings as Thyago instructed, and pulled himself out of his dive, purposely avoiding looking up at the sky as he arced back upwards to complete the flip. It didn't look pretty, but he was still just a beginner, after all.

"Eh, that sucked," Thyago called out from above, in jest.? "Fun?"

Nathan nodded distractedly. "Yeah, that was fun," he said. He glanced around again, unable to keep himself from looking up at the sky, and he quickly looked to Thyago. "Hey, uh, y'think mebbe we could stop now?" he asked.

"We just got started.? Don't tell me you're tired already?" Thyago whined.

"No, Ah'm not tired!" Cowboy snapped agitatedly.

"All right," the engineer replied, confused.? "Do you want me to show you how to land, first?"

"Mebbe next time," Nathan said quickly.

"Um, okay.? Computer, end program, I guess."? The two men froze mid flight, and were gently reoriented until their feet touched an invisible ground.

As the close, constricting walls of the holodeck shimmered back into view, Nathan nodded to himself and let out a shuddering, relieved breath. "Ah'm sorry 'bout that, T, but Ah couldn't take it anymore," he explained as he started to take off his Winging gear. "Somethin' 'bout havin' all that open sky above with nothin' between me and it, just..." He shook his head. "Ah dunno. Ah've had this problem since mah parents sent me to live with mah grandparents back on New Texas durin' the Dominion War."

"What?? What's wrong with sky?"

"Mebbe if you'd spent most of yer life growin' up in safe, confinin' starships lahk Ah did, you'd understand," Nathan answered.

Thyago squinted at Nathan, and made a sequence of high pitched starts before finally uttering, "But, you're a pilot.? A fighter pilot.? You fly out in a tiny little craft and stare at nothing but space.? Big, empty space.? How you be possibly be afraid of an orange-yellow cloudy sky?"

Nathan shook his head. "Ah'm not scared of it, and it's different than bein' in a starfighter. When Ah'm in a fighter Ah've got somethin' around me, but flyin' around out there with nothin' between me and the sky was freakin' me out. Ah'm used to havin' a ship surroundin' me."

"But, that's like me being afraid of monkey wrenches," Thyago said, unconvinced.? He paused for a moment, thinking, "Although, I am afraid of monkeys.? They bite!"

Cowboy gave Thyago a perplexed look, and then let out a short, embarrassed laugh. "Ah guess it is kinda ridiculous, huh?"

"A little bit," he agreed, "But don't worry, mane.? I'll be sure to make fun of you for it often."

"Ah wouldn't expect anythin' less," Nathan said with a genuine smile. He was just about to start taking off his other wing, and he looked at the door leading out of the holodeck, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Y'know what, why don't we give this another shot?" he finally said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, what the hell," Cowboy replied as he started putting his gear back on. "A little holographic sky isn't gonna hurt me, right?" He didn't sound very convinced of that, but the smile on his face promised that he would try not to freak out this time.

"We can replicate a helmet or something, to, like, close in your scared little boy head, sacou?"

"Smartass," Nathan muttered under his breath as Thyago loaded the program again.

"Just offering."

OOC: right after the rescued folks get aboard the Galaxy...

"Encounter In Sickbay"

LtCmdr. Vladimir Malgin
Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom

==Sickbay==

As per regulations, anyone just rescued from harrowing situations were to report to sickbay.

So that's where Jaal was.

But he was also in a hurry. He 'had' to get to Captain M'Kantu as soon as possible for a debriefing. There was a lot of information that had to change hands in a hurry.

Of course, from Jaal's point of view, he didn't 'need' sickbay. Sure, he had a few bruises, cuts, scrapes, and whatnot from his time on DS5 fighting the Hydrans and keeping everyone else safe. To him, those were mere superficial injuries. The doctors of the Galaxy's sickbay had other patients with worse ails to deal with.

Seeing that the medical staff was quite busy, the tall Trill headed for the door...

"Hey!" came sharp voice from behind. Voice with definate accent. Voice, which had a lot more confidence, than usual doctor, and which might have suited some military commander rather than caduceus wielder. "Where do you think you are going, mister?"

Voice belonged to tall human male, with turquoise uniform and lieutenant commander pips. With medical tricorder in his hands and steel view in eyes, he looked a little bit out of the place in here.

Jaal spun around but didn't stop walking towards the door. "I'm going to see Captain M'Kantu, it's urgent."

Then, of course, he remembered he wasn't in his uniform. The Hydrans had attacked while he and Arel were having a sparring match and he never had a chance to change. He looked down at his clothes and decided a small introduction was in order. "I'm Commander Jaxom, I from DS 5. I'm fine. I'll come back later... honest!"

"Sir," stranger replied harshly, "I do not care about any ranks at the moment, as well, as I dont care, when patient says, that he is okay. Especially after such a mess, that happened. So, please... Be SO KIND, as to sit down and let me take a look at you. Until you are checked, you are not able to leave. I hope, that it is clear." He cleared his throat and added, "All compaints may be filed after the end of the crisis."

Jaal rolled his eyes. "Fine. Check me out."

"Take your seat then and stop staring at me like that and making funny faces! Gotcha?" doctor pointed to one of the biobeds.

Jaal hopped onto the examination table. "Sorry about that. I should be setting the good example," the Trill explained, "I had my ship blown out from under me early in the Hydrans' attack on DS5. I guess I'm still a little on edge."

"That can be seen from a mile away," doc grumpily replied, waving his tricorder over Trill's body, "If you don't want to go to counselors, I might well offer to inject some tranquilizer. Might come in handy"

"I appreciate the offer but I'd rather keep a clear head for the time being," Jaal answered, "How long have you been aboard?" he asked curiously as the doctor went about his business.

"Since the very launch of this tin can under command of captain Bhrode. Hell of a good time it was, for sure!"

Jaal smiled, "Sounds like it. I was only on the Miranda for six years before getting transferred off. I just wish my own ship would have fared better against the Hydrans." He shook his head, "They totally caught us and the station by surprise."

"Come on, 'just by surprise' is never a complete cause of defeat. There is always something else. Like in disease. Virus can get in through cut in your skin. Or it can gain force from lack of immunity. Et cetera!"

Jaal nodded, "True... At this point we're pretty sure they had inside help. There was no way the Hydrans should have been able to get in and take over as quick as they did. I'm sure your Intel chief will want to grill me on the whole thing."

"It is more like he will grill you just for fun. But if you say something useful, he might be happy enough..." Doc sighed, "Seemingly, there is nothing in you, what I can lay my hands on. Some bruises and cuts, but in these circumstances, it is nothing."

Jaal nodded, "Great, I'm still healthy. Thanks for the look-over doc. Can I get going now?"

"You can. Just make sure you don't stumble upon something in the corridor just outside and fall. It is doubtful, that anybody of docs would care about you then."

"Great, thanks Doc."

"What Must Be Done"

by Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin

***

Sharzhevashi zh'Rin entered the lounge tentatively. She wasn't quite sure what she would find here, but it was a new place to explore and so here she was.

She saw a couple junior officers playing three-dimensional chess, each intent on the game. Having never really taken up the game, Shi could not tell how either player was faring. She considered getting a drink, but in truth she was not quite thirsty.

As she decided to move on, she turned in time to catch a pair of other officers seated in front of a monitor. On it, a pair of animated figures sparred with words. Somehow, as she watched the scene unfolding, the story seemed familiar. She couldn't, however place it.

"...you've got Genesis...," one of the characters taunted. "... but you don't have me! you were going to kill me! You're going to have to come down here! You're going to have to come down here!"

The other cartoonish figure, sporting a plume of dark hair jutting from the top of his head and around his overly large ears. "I've done far worse than kill you. I've hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you, as you left me - ... as you left her. Marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet - Buried alive!"

"BAAAAAAAAAN!!"

Shi fled from the lounge, but the echoing cry followed her.

"BAAAAN!!!"

The tubolift doors whooshed closed behind her and left the car in silence. She remembered the story now, remembered reading it at the Academy. Remembered reading it long before with her bondmates, with her sister. While it wasn't an Andorian story, wasn't a story of her people, it was an important story for the Federation. She couldn't believe what someone had done with it. Garish characters and over the top dialogue. The main character looked nothing like the famous captain of the Enterprise.

Shi exited the lift and hurried toward her quarters. Perhaps that was enough of a tour for the day. She entered the safety of her private sanctuary, welcomed the heat as it surrounded her. Maybe it was a sign.

With a sigh, she approached the desk set into the wall. "Computer, begin recording. Subspace message to Andor. Korazei ch'Vesh."

She looked straight ahead, imagining him back on Andor, receiving her message. She could almost hear his heart beating faster. He would have been waiting for any word from her. She knew he'd be sick with anxiety. Kora was always passionate and had little patience with waiting. She smiled and her face flushed with the guilt of making him wait.

"Ch'te," she began, "I am so very sorry for the delay returning messages to you. I could blame the Hydrans and their attack. But, I will not. The fault is my own. I know you were unhappy with my decision to join Starfleet. There is a part of me wishing I chose to remain with you. But what I am doing here, it is important. It has been difficult to look in your eyes. It has been since Shalla and I decided to join Starlfeet. But I do not want that to be between us. I love you ch'te. I regret that I am unable to be there now, to be near you. I promise you, as soon as I am able, as soon as this crisis allows, I will return. I want you to know that my decision to join Starfleet, to be stationed here on the USS Galaxy, is what I feel is right. But our bond is also right, and I have not given to that what it deserves. What you deserve. And Kala and Alzhea as well. Give my love to them, Kora. I promise I will not neglect you again. I will communicate soon. All my love is yours, ch'te."

With a sad smile, she sent the message. With the trouble throughout the Federation, she hoped it made it through. If not, she decided with determination, she would have to send another tomorrow.

"Encounter With The Captain"

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commander Jaal Jaxom

****
USS Galaxy Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

"All right, June," Daren nodded to the image of his wife on the screen. "As soon as you finish figuring out where those three missing ships wound up, and the folks debriefing you finish up, then." He smiled, enjoying the simple act of looking at his wife and listening to the Caribbean lit in her voice. After a second, he realized that she had stopped talking and smiled in acknowledgement of her having caught him acting like a moon-struck ensign. "I miss you," he said simply, knowing that there wasn't anything else he needed to say.

June's smile widened. "I miss you too, Dar," she answered softly. Her smile shifted subtly, and she added, "Maybe we should see about fixing that when I get out of here?"

For a moment Daren couldn't speak. It had been a long time since he'd been hit in the solar plexus and left unable to do anything but stare, but not so long that the impact of those words didn't remind him of it. "I..." he said slowly, because if he didn't say them slowly they'd come out sounding like he was talking in a helium-rich atmosphere mix while under the influence of a powerful amphetamine. "I'd like that, June."

"So would I, Dar," June replied. "So would I. We'll talk about it when I get free of this mess and catch up to you." She looked over her shoulder, sighed and turned back. "My escort's here, Dar, I need to let you go." She reached for the switch, paused, looked directly into his eyes and added, "I love you," and switched off as soon as he'd repeated the words back to her.

A buzz from the door to his Ready Room kept him from sitting there and smiling for hours. "Come in."

"Captain," Jaal greeted the Galaxy's CO as he walked into the ready room. "Good to see you again despite the circumstances." The Trill was familiar with M'Kantu from two previous missions the Miranda and Galaxy were sent on. Both dealt with the Breen, T'Kith'Kin, or Hydrans at some point.

Jaal was eager to hear news of his new assignment. Most likely, he thought, he'd be sent to command another ship. That's what he hoped anyway despite the uncertain feeling of dread in the back of his mind. There was always a chance that he wouldn't get a ship because of the Carthage being destroyed so soon after he took command of it. Starfleet, after all, didn't really appreciate captains losing starships.

"I've just heard that Corvallis and Cardassia have been attacked as well. Jii and I have been talking about this since Havras."

"They have," Daren nodded. War and duty first, love afterwards he reminded himself. "Total surprise and, with the exception of DS5, total success. Not Starfleet's most shining moment as a whole." He looked down at a padd on his desk. "Are you cleared by Medical and Intelligence, yet?"

"I've been to sickbay and managed to convince them to let me go," Jaal's ever present sense of humor still came to the fore even during times of duress. "I haven't talked to anyone from Intel yet." He stood simply in front of M'Kantu's desk with his hands folded neatly behind his back. He did manage to change into a clean uniform and clean himself up before seeing the commanding officer of the ship that saved him and his crew.

"Thanks for picking us all up by the way." A gracious half-smile slipped on to the Trill's face. "I just wish I could get my ship back."

"It was no trouble picking you up," Daren returned the smile and the jest. "We were in the neighborhood anyway." He waved Jaal to a chair. "No need to stand."

"Thanks," the Trill took the offered seat.

"You're going to be debriefed by Intelligence before you're released to duty, I'm afraid," Daren continued after Jaal had taken a seat. "Before you ask; no, no telepaths, just a lot of questions about what you saw, heard, smelled, and anything else that might be useful. Our Mr. Bental likes his questions. After that, though...."

"Understandable considering the circumstances," Jaal replied. "I hope I can offer some insight. We didn't really come into contact with too many Hydrans willing to talk."

"You never know what might be useful," Daren noted. "But once that's over, I can load you on the first available shuttle back to Fleet HQ and you can stand around, waiting for someone to remember that you're there and try and find you a ship. Or... you can stay here, as my Strategic

Operations Officer. I know that it's a step down from having your own command, but I can certainly use you... and I think that you'll find that a lot of your friends are aboard Galaxy now."

Jaal was quiet a moment while considering his options. He rubbed his chin and mulled over the decision. He didn't look right at M'Kantu while he spoke, "It would be a step backwards after having my own ship and being the XO on Miranda..." Now he turned to look the Galaxy's captain in the eye, "but I bet I could learn a lot from a captain with your kind of experience. Jii always spoke very highly of you." He paused again to consider his options. "It's a tough call to say the least. Can I think about it for a day?"

"Certainly," Daren nodded. "In fact, if it will help, it will be at least three days before be rendezvous with anyone heading back to Starfleet HQ, so I don't need an answer before then."

Jaal nodded, "It won't take me long to decide. As soon as I know, you'll know."

"Training 101 - Don't Piss off Arel"

Nathan Everett
Arel Smith

****

USS Galaxy
Holodeck One

"So, how're you likin' the Galaxy so far?" Nathan asked calmly as he lunged at his opponent with his knife.

Arel sidestepped the knife and struck at Nathan's back. "It's okay. What about you?"

He grinned as he spun away from the blow and ducked low, reversing his grip on his blade as he swiped at the back of Arel's leg. "Y'know me, Ah can make mahself feel at home just bout anywhere. You got Korvin back yet, or is he still on Qo'noS?"

Arel frowned even as she evaded his knife. "He's still on Qo'nos. I thought it was better for him to remain for the time being." She wished she could be as comfortable in new places as Cowboy. Her home had been the Miranda; her temporary home had been the Carthage. One was gone and the other had been blown to smithereens.

Didn't matter, she told herself. Korvin was alive.

"Prob'ly a good idea," Nathan said, nodding sagely as he went after Arel again, frowning as she continued to easily evade his attacks. "My parents did the same with me when the Dominion War started." He suddenly jumped back in surprise, letting out a whoosh of air as he just barely escaped Arel's counter attack.

"'Course, Ah was a lot older then than he is now, and New Texas ain't exactly Qo'noS." He smiled at Arel as he went after again, feinting with a low strike before quickly thrusting towards her midsection. "But if he's anythin' lahk his mom, he should be fine."

"I'm not worried," Arel replied. She let him get close before striking and then smirked at the steady stream of swear words. "Your Texas should have taught you combat instead of how to try to flirt."

Nathan grunted as she made him pay for his miss with a backhand to the side of his head. He took a few steps back to reorient himself, and grinned playfully at Arel. "Sorry, but we New Texans're lovers, not fighters."

"That explains the diseases," Arel said.

He ignored that remark and observed Arel's movements for a moment before lunging at her again, trying to keep up with the security officer as she danced and weaved away from his simplistic strikes. Finally he got tired of not leading the dance, and he feinted a slash with his knife, then reached out with his free hand and grabbed Arel's arm as she started to dodge.

Nathan got a tight grip on Arel's wrist and wrenched her back towards him, pulling her arm behind her back as he bent her over backwards. He moved quickly, leaning over her and placing the edge of his knife to her throat before Arel could try to get out of his hold.

"If Ah didn't know any better, darlin', Ah'd say Ah was startin' to get pretty good at this," he finally said, grinning down at her.

"Not bad," She admitted. "Next step is to get to this point in five steps, not twenty."

"Aw, c'mon, that was more lahk fifteen, sixteen at the most," Nathan complained jovially as he let her go. He took a step back and gave Arel a chance to recover. "Ah hope Ah didn't hurt yer arm too badly," he added, an eyebrow rising slightly as he smiled at her with confidence.

Arel rolled her eyes. "Don't get cocky, Sparky." She got back into stance. "Try again."

Nathan smirked and readied himself, taking a breath before attacking her again. He knew that he shouldn't get overconfident, but it was hard not to be pleased with himself after managing to get the upper hand on Arel, even if it had been for just a moment.

A minute later he was lying face down on the floor with his arm pulled painfully behind his back.

"I told you," Arel said with a smirk.

Nathan, his face plastered to the sparring mat, let out a grunt. "Alright, fine, stop showin' off," he muttered painfully. "Damn, can't let a guy enjoy himself..."

"What fun would that be?" Arel asked as she let him go.

Cowboy snorted as he was finally allowed to stand up. "Please, darlin', Ah don't think you even know what 'fun' is anymore. These sparrin' sessions of ours're the closest thing you've had to a date in..." He frowned, scratching at the back of his head as he tried to remember. "When exactly *was* the last tahm you went on a date, anyway?"

Arel scowled. "None of your business."

"C'mon," he said with that annoying smirk of his. "We're s'posed to be friends, right?"

She looked up as she tried to do the calculations, frowned deeper, and resisted the urge to cross her arms. "Allright, I can't remember."

Nathan laughed. "Wow, either it was a *really* long time ago, or whoever it was you last went out with was terrible in the sack."

"Time for your next lesson," Arel growled.

"Hey, Ah'm just sayin', you oughta get back in the game," Cowboy said, instinctively taking a step back from Arel. "We've all got a blank slate here on the Galaxy, it's a great opportunity fer you to get out there and meet someone new. Ah'm sure there's some big, stoic, angsty Klingon man hidin' on this boat somewhere."

"Yippee," Arel replied flatly. "Get into stance."

"Fine, never mind," Nathan said, sighing as he did what she told him. "Ah was just tryin' to help." He readied himself and then looked at her, wincing a little at the expression on her face.

"Yer gonna hurt me now, aren't you?"

"Count on it," She said.

The Gorn Imperative, Part II

Gorn Council Chamber, S'sgarnon Prime

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

When the alien ambassador was finally removed from the chamber, the true debate over the T'Kith'Kin's words began in earnest. The insectoid's rhetoric had indeed drawn the ire of much of the warrior caste, and while the surge of their anger had ebbed it had only done so marginally. The two warrior-caste representatives on the Council ? the Red and Black Crests ? seethed, making to attempt to hide their displeasure. Still, they were silent in honoring the traditions of a government over a hundred-thousand cycles old.

Strangely, the merchant caste shared the warrior's agitation. With the Hundred-cycle peace with the Federation the merchants had grown fat and prosperous, massive estate-fortunes earned with the Human, Tellarite, Orion and Vulcan thirst for dilithium and other precious ores the Gorn colony worlds were famous for. Still, the four merchant councilors had shared seemingly meaningful dialogue with the warriors, leaving the working and ruling classes ? polar opposites in Gorn society ? wanting to maintain the peace.

Breex, the current Speaker of the Council and leader of the ruling class, surveyed the warriors. Sashaan, the current leader of the Black Crest, was a smaller model of his sire Lord Sleessh, the warlord who had sought a military revolution and dictatorship at the peak of the Dominion Wars. While Sashaan held the seat on the Council, Breex had no illusions that it was Sleessh who still ruled the Black Crest even in exile. Socially Ashaan postured like a greenling fresh from the shell, but the decisions and propositions he put forward in government were those of a seasoned statesgorn.

A'kaah't K'aa, on the other hand, was a Gorn warrior traditionalist in very sense of the word. His decisions were strategies, precise and ruthless, but within the scope of the law. Every tactic was hedged for the advantage of his clan, and K'aa ? unlike Sleesh and the Black Crest ? was very, very patient. Rumor had it that the old lizard had eliminated his mate's first generation of hatchlings because they resisted his will when they had reached the age of majority, and that he kept close watch on the second clutch for signs of sedition. The clan, and the traditional role of the Red Crest was everything for K'aa, and in that way he could at least be depended on. While Sashaan postured and preened, the leader of the Red Crest bore a stony scowl across his fangs that bore no sign of hared, anger or humor. Only his silver eyes, cold and uncaring, hinted at his displeasure and they were focused squarely at Breex. Reflexively the larger matriarch's upper lip receded to expose more fangs, showing that while she respected the threat the Red Crest leader represented she bore enough tooth, claw and scale to offer a significant threat of her own.

When tempers had finally settled Breex stood on the Speaker's dais, staff in hand, and spoke. "Much of what ambassador Veinn sssaid rang with truth", she admitted, drawing toothy sneers from the merchants and Black Crest. "Were we the sssame people asss hundred cycles ago, we would have leaped on the Federation'sss flank ? after all, the Weak Mussst be Dessstroyed." The chamber erupted on a tide of rolling hisses, and crested heads nodded in agreement. The Gorn Imperative, a Darwinian mantra that allowed only the survival of the fittest, was the backbone of Gorn society. More than that ? it created the society and culture that began to explore space thousands of years ago. Only A'kaah't K'aa remained impassive, his arms crossed over his barrel chest and glaring unflinchingly at the speaker. Breex raised a leathery claw and the chamber settled into an uneasy silence. "Yet - we are not what we were."

"We have changed!" cried one of the merchants ? Jurraik of the Yellow Scale - rising from his seat. Robed in a dark saffron, the old Gorn's long crest-scales flexed along his spine and skull like the feathers of a great bird. "We should return to the old wayssss ? the traditions of Those Who Were Before Us." He waved at the mummified Gorn leaders in their alcoves, whose fleshless grinning seemed to smile at the merchant's words. "If we do not, we are no better than the *leaf eaters*. How will we face the generation that followsss and explain to them how thisss opportunity came before usss and we did nothing?"

"We have not jussst changed", Breex bellowed. "We have evolved ? and we owe much of that to the Federation. Alwayssss when we encountered an alien ssspeciesss, we have been attacked. The Romulan, the Klingon, the Kzin and Lyran. When our time came to encounter humanity, we were pre-dissssposssed to a warlike reaction. Interesssting that we owe a century'sss worth of peace to Human mercy and thick ssskin! And what have we accomplished in thisss century? Doesss the Klingon threaten our marchesss? Doesss the Romulan? Our fleet isss small, but by the Fire our shipsss bear enough claw to match the bessst of them! When Gowron sssent a fleet to flex hisss muscle when he asssimed Chancellorship of the Klingon High Council ? what came back to him?"

"Debris", came an anonymous yell from the back rows of the workers, and for the first time that day mirth was heard in the chamber. Throat-bags swelled, and a loud croaking echoed against the large room's walls. Still, the merchants and warriors were largely ummoved. Again the matriarch held aloft a claw to settle the crowd. "The T'Kith'Kin sssay they offer usss what we have alwaysss wanted ? but hasssn't the Federation given that to usss for the lassst ten j'ethh? Entry into Gorn ssspace by Federation warshipssss has never happened. Trade hasss alwaysss been performed under our termsss. Mosssst importantly, there hasss been no Federation interference in our waysss. Reflect on thisss ? the Federation hassss alwaysss ressspected usss, and honored our wishessss. Because we had no need to defend their frontier, we have been allowed to develop and defend the othersss. The only threat in a hundred cyclesss? came from ourssselvesss!" At the last word, Breex cast a cold stare at the current leader of the Black Crest and wished that his sire was no longer in shameful exile but rather here in the Council Chamber so she could rip his throat out with her own fangs.

"The Island"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC <br>Commanding Officer
188th Marine Detachment "Furies"

Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum-Arvelion
Transporter Operator
USS Galaxy

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

(Transporter Room 1- While the Galaxy is disembarking refugees)

Ever since the founding of a few far-flung colonies some thousands of light years away from the worlds of their origins, the people of the Confederacy of Allied Worlds have been particularly fortunate. The Alpha Quadrant had seen over a decade of strife, be it between the Romulans and Federation, the Maquis and the Cardassians, the Cardassians and the Federation, the Klingons and the Romulans, the Klingons and the Federation, the Klingons and the Cardassian, the Klingons, Romulans, and Federation against the Dominion, the Federation against itself, or now apparently the Triad against the Federation... and despite the opportunities presented, the smattering of worlds which made up the Alpha Quadrant enclave of the CAW had remained through it all an island oasis... a peaceful harbor sheltered from the fury of the storms.

Al'Klei'sh, one of the crown jewels of the enclave, had really always been 'home' to For'kel, even though it increasingly seemed he spent more of his life 'on the road' than he did on the planet. Since 2370 when it was founded, the colony had grown from a frontier world of a couple thousand settlers to a bustling urban center of over a hundred million inhabitants. As much as it may have changed, it was still the safest place he could think of, complete with a powerful defensive infrastructure and most importantly a network of well-meaning family members and neighbors, and benevolent strangers (many of which were not necessarily Confederate citizens originally) that would guarantee Koren's safety, and happiness. Nobody knew how long this latest war would last.

It had always been the ultimate 'just in case' scenario. Berilyn and For'kel had made a mutual decision well before they were even married that should they ever face this situation, the safety of the children would be first. It was a rather simple plan... she would take Koren to the planet, settle him in with For'kel's parents, and come right back. She was after all a member of Starfleet, and even For'kel was smart enough not to challenge that kind of devotion. This was her fight too, after all.

They'd met, really, where it had all started... kind of. Roughly 11 years ago, while they were both still technically teenagers, Berilyn Suum and For'kel Arvelion had met in transporter room 1 of the 'original' USS Miranda, Kelvin class, with no letters following the name. It was a simply transporter malfunction, one that must have occurred to Bery no less than four dozen times over her subsequent career... a simple mis-allignment of the targeting sensors. She knew the transporter like the back of her hand, but Starfleet procedures required Engineering to be notified for a variety of reasons when it came to these kinds of problems. Fate must have been rubbing her hands together, because none other than For'kel Arvelion happened to be on duty at the time. They may have otherwise never met, at least not really, but when he took a knee next to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and the cramped work space caused them to literally knock heads, he was left dizzy in love.

Their story together had always been filled with such perfect moments in which the imperfect happened. It was a trademark of sorts... their first kiss was marked by that weird sucking sound brought on by inexperience, the first time they'd slept together was because of displacement caused by battle damage, and even the first time they'd 'slept' together was the result of an incidental romp through the muck of the reclamation systems and the showers that resulted from it. Hell, their first 'shower' together the damned thing went on the fritz and started spraying a mix of Sluggo (TM) Cola and cold water!

Even their marriage had been 'imperfect'... a 5 minute ceremony by Captain Summers onboard the Miranda right before he died, without the benefit of observers or family. They'd intended on having the full ceremony later, but had always just been too busy to make it work out.

And now, here they were. This was probably the best time, they'd both agreed. A simple evacuation meant that anyone could be at the transporter controls and make them work, and that 'this' was probably the safest time to go. Another opportunity like this might not come, and if anything ever happened to Koren...

The refugees were being brought in, in groups for transporter to the Space station. It gave the Arvelions time enough to at the least say goodbye properly. Not that time was much of a concern, for two lovers in each other's presence it always seemed as if the universe itself could wait a be damned minute.

Koren had given up tugging on his mother's fingers in order to take a nap, resting comfortably in the 'kid pack' vest she wore. The uncertainty and fear of what was to come didn't make itself evident... this was one of those times where you literally left the war a world away, regardless of how close it might be.

"The next transport due for Al'Klei'sh is a Tellerite freighter. It's not going to be a 'luxurious' trip, but we'll make it in one piece." Bery smiled despite what she was actually feeling. There was definitely a tug of war going on... objectively there was no reason to believe any Marines would be harmed beyond the occasional muscle strain for moving some yahoo's heavy furniture that they just couldn't live without, but subjectively you 'always' worried, in the back of your mind.

He chuckled. Some people were naturally strong, they could get through anything, anywhere, under any circumstances, without any help, and be all right. Berilyn definitely had 'some' of those qualities, but she wasn't one of those types. She was more of the type that had the uncanny ability to bring those qualities out in others. She might not feel confident, or particularly strong at times, but she 'could' make others feel that way. Right now, she was certainly making him feel better about things. "Have you spoken to my parents?"

"Le'lei, actually." Bery nodded, referring to For'kel's mother. "She's expecting us." Her smile broadened substantially. "Your mother let slip that they finished our house. I'm rather looking forward to seeing what they did with the place."

"Just don't forget that you 'do' have to come back." He teased. A communal house-building was one of the more practical 'ceremonies' involved with a traditional Stagnorian wedding. Although they never 'had' the wedding, the house had been started upon his parents' discovery of their engagement. Ironically, although it'd been completed more than a month ago, neither he or she had actually 'seen' it beyond the descriptions and video images provided in letters. "My Dad was always good with his hands."

"Like father, like son... is that it, hmm?" Bery impishly raised her eyebrows before taking his hands and pressing a small kiss to For'kel's lips. "Don't worry... three days there, stay for two days, and three days back. I'll be in your arms again by sometime next week." She whispered the last with a sultry suggestiveness.

"And here I thought I'd have a chance to finally clear out those plates."

Bery blinked before offering a very dead-pan stare. "For'kel Arvelion, you 'leave' my momento plate collection 'alone'! I swear if you even touch just one plate I'm going to smack you!"

"Promises, promises." For'kel stuck his tongue out in a tease.

Unfortunately for him, his wife was waiting for that exact motion, and clamped his tongue between waiting thumb and pointer. She snagged him as soon as she got the chance. "Damn straight it's a promise. Now, do we have an understanding?"

"Uhh-huh..." the tongue stuck Stagnorian managed.

"Very good then." She let go of his tongue, and they shared a second or two of silence that said more than words ever could. "Be careful... I love you."

"I love you too." It was incredible just how much after so many years, what kind of power so few words still held. Even though they were married, he still felt like a bit of a kid when saying it in public.

A satisfied, content sound escaped her lips, interrupted by the more baritone sound of a Bolian transporter operator."Last call before we depart."

It was obvious those words were meant for them. Berilyn sighed, giving a somewhat sad, somewhat encouraging smile of recognition of that fact. "That's my cue, I guess. You better kiss me while you still have the chance. You might wake up and find out this is all a dream."

"Hmm, well I guess we've seen stranger." He smiled and did just that. If any moment ever between them should have been perfect, one would've bet money it should've been a moment like this. The kind of moment that stood between the reality of something as catastrophic as a war, and something as comforting as a lover's embrace. It was the kind of moment historically referred to as a 'kodak moment', and should be remembered for the rest of their lives.

But alas, who were they kidding? These were the Arvelions, a couple that had been perfectly imperfect, and that was a streak not destined to fail just yet. For even as their lips locked, the pitter-patter of little feet echoed through the transporter room. It was a sound he 'should' have heard, but For'kel was otherwise distracted. It wasn't until a very wet and warm feeling crawled up his leg that he broke the kiss to look down. "Bery did you...?"

Before he could finish the question however, a small animal looked up at them, with the distinct look of a creature that knew it had just been caught doing something it shouldn't have... the incriminating pool of evidence now sopping into the commercial grade carpet of the transporter bay.

"BAAAAAAAAN!" The creature shrieked, skittering towards the transporter pad.

"Calvin N. Hobbes, get over here this instant!" A young girl demanded stomping her foot down until the creature, an apparent pet, made a mad jump for the safety of her arms. Embarrassed, she gave a look at the Marine and his wife. "Err... umm... gee, I'm sorry mister."

As she ran off back to her parents the two somewhat stunned lovers looked back at each other, before sharing a deeply heartfelt laugh. Laughing was something they had in common... in many instances, it was the 'only' way to get through things. He loaded her bags onto the pad, they shared one more last hug and kiss... Fork placed a last kiss on the back of Koren's head, and like that it was over.

Minus a change in pants, ofcourse.

"Preparations and Admissions"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Location: Zamora's Office

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

Comprehension of the material resting before her did not occur right after she read it. It swam around in her brain for a while, picking up a torrent of thoughts and feelings concerning the subject...then finally washed up on the beach of her rational thought. She didn't like the idea. Evacuation. The word that instantly followed was forceful. The evac of the colony was not going to be an easy task, and here she was looking at the role that she was to play in the whole dynamic.

Her head shook slowly back and forth negatively. Surely there was another diplomatic way to handle this other than to say..."Okay...everybody out of the pool!"

Other things were bothering Ophelia as well. There was something sinister, something that she just could not put her finger on that...for some reason...chilled her to her core. It was a thought that bore into her head and wiggled every now and then. It didn't cause her mental anguish...but more of a chilly anxiety to find an answer to a question that would not silence itself.

"Lt. Zamora?" The Security officer, fresh faced yet solemn entered her office carrying a padd that contained the answer to the feeling of dread she just could not shake. The other officer was older, more distinguished with hints of gray at each of his temples doting jet black hair. He stared, nodded, then his eyes fell to the floor.

"Yes?" Instantly her eyebrows furrowed as she stood from behind her desk. Her head tilted slightly to the side as he approached, then stopped short of the two chairs that sat before her desk. "What is it?"

"Ma'am....we are sorry to inform you that your ex husband has been killed."

"How?" She rasped out as she grew pale.

The older man raised his head, giving a rather curious look at his younger, inexperienced partner. "Well, Ma'am....he was murdered. The Tuscany Police are currently investigating....and...."

"That's fine." Ophelia stated in a whisper. She stood before them, forcing a few tears from the corner of her left and right eyes. "What happens next?"

"The body is being autopsied....after that it...erm....he will be released to you for burial. Ma'am? Are you alright?"

Her dark eyes raised, wet with tears that she felt didn't deserve to be there. "I'm fine...thank you."

"Do you need us to contact anyone for you? Friends...Family?"

"No...." Ophelia sighed. "No...that won't be necessary. Thank you."

"Okay...well....again...We are sorry for your loss."

Zamora raised her hand, and closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. "Thank you again Gentlemen. Now...if you'll excuse me....."

"Yes, certainly. If you have any further questions...."

"I'll contact you." Ophelia stated more sharply then she had intended.

They nodded, caulking her reaction up to a grieving ex wife. Needless to say, they were the ones with the odd feeling as they exited her office.

Watching them leave, she waited until the doors shut fast before pausing for a moment. That moment past, Ophelia went back behind her desk and sat as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Her manicured index finger drew a small circular pattern on her desk as a small fleeting smile played across her glossed lips. With the hint of a whisper that it took to form words, she admitted to no one in particular. "Hiring you was well worth the price I paid Faylin................"

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