"Fox in the Birdhouse"

Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari
Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
==============================

<<Flight Deck, USS Galaxy>>

Elrin fealt lost. OK, so the Galaxy was alot smaller than Deep Space 5
but that didn't make it any easier for the vulpinoid to find anything.
He was supposed to be trying to find his new ship and meet with his
techs but he wasn't having much luck with either. What was worse was
that he was afraid to ask anyone for help. He always felt embarrassed
to do things like that especially when he really should know better
like now. Thus he stood right in the middle of the moderate bustle of
the flight deck, tail swishing nervously adjusting his uniform and the
crimson and purple ribbon on his right upper arm hoping someone would
realize he was lost.

"You lost, buddy?" asked another pilot, a Terran, as if knowing the
vulpinoid's dilemma.

He walked up to Elrin, brushing a hand through his hair, and offered
him a friendly grin as he extended his right hand. "Ah'm Lieutenant
Everett, but most folk down here call me Cowboy."

Despite the fact he was looking for someone, Elrin was a bit surprised
when Everett came seemingly out of nowhere. However a slight surprise
to Elrin still resulted in him jumping back a quarter of a meter. The
fox then started speaking fast and nervously,

"Um, sorry, sir. Doesn't take much to get me jumping. Old habit. Yeah,
I'm kinda lost. New here, just came over from the station. Well, even
that's an interesting story. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Elrin, or Vixen in
places like this. Guys at the academy thought I was a girl...vixen,
makes sense. Oh where are my manners". At the end of his rambling
Elrin extended an orange furred hand to shake the Lieutennant's.

Nathan chuckled as he shook Elrin's hand. "Relax, Pilot, take a
breath," he said. "Where can Ah direct you to?"

Elrin did as directed and he calmed down a bit. "Sorry sir, I'm
looking for my new ride and crew. Seems like I'm walking in circles
looking for them."

"Hmm," Cowboy murmured quietly as he looked down at the padd he'd been
carrying. He tapped a couple of buttons and brought up the Vanguard
manifest, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he scrolled down the
list.

"Oh! Here we are," he said a moment later. "Pilot Elrin Kit'ari,
callsign 'Vixen.' Not very flatterin'," Cowboy added, muttering the
last under his breath. "Says here yer assigned to Saber Six, which
is..." Nathan paused and glanced up from the padd, looking around the
ever-chaotic flight deck. "There she is. Follow me, Pilot."

As they walked across the deck, Cowboy glanced over at Elrin. "So,
how're you likin' the Galaxy so far?"

"Oh, thanks sir. Sorry to bother you. Oh, yeah, I'm liking the ship so
far. Heard all kinds of stories about her, interesting ones. People on
this ship have seen enough weird stuff from what I hear that, unlike
most places I go, I'm not considered all that strange. I mean, when
was the last time you saw a meter and a half tall talking fox walking
a hound?", Elrin replied now full of energy.

Nathan smiled as he replied, enjoying the other pilot's enthusiasm.
"Mister Kit'ari, we're Starfleet officers. Weird is part of the job."
"I suppose it is.", Elrin replied with a bit of a grin.

He looked Elrin over again, his brow creasing as he noticed for the
first time the ribbon on his arm. "What's that for?" he asked,
pointing to it.

"Oh, yeah, my ribbon. Well, back home there are lots of different
clans. Something like 40. Each clan wears a different ribbon. Usually
its alot more prominent then this but Starfleet would only let me get
away with so much. The ribbon is one of the few reminders I have of
home, I mean, hard for me to go back since the federation only found
my planet last year.",a bit of longing creeped into the fox's voice
towards the end of his statement, as if he was homesick.

"So they're kinda lahk the kilts they wear in Scotland, only without
makin' you look lahk yer wearin' a dress," Nathan replied, nodding in
understanding.

He noticed the tinge of sadness in Elrin's voice and frowned. "You
miss yer home, huh? How long's it been since you last saw it?"

Elrin's eyes drooped a bit at the question. As quickly as the energy
had come into him it left again as if he'd been sucker punched.

"Twenty years or more. Mum and dad were spacers even though that was a
fairly new profession. They thought it a good idea to take their two
year old son along on an exploratory run. We got attacked and my
escape pod got picked up by a survey shuttle. Have never been back."
Nathan frowned. "Sorry to hear that, Vix."

"Eh, I've learned to accept that I may never see the place again
though I've been promised a trip back if we decide to make offical
contact. How about you?",Elrin replied as he perked back up a bit.

He shook his head. "Nah, Ah've lived damn near mah whole life in
space. Spent a couple years with my grandparents on New Texas durin'
the Dominion War, and of course Ah was on Earth fer Starfleet Academy,
but that's about it. The surface life just isn't fer me."

Finally, they came upon Elrin's assigned fighter, Saber Six. "Here she
is, in all her glory," Nathan said with a smile, coming to a stop next
to the fighter. He consulted his padd once more.

"Doesn't look lahk there's a specific crew assigned to her at the
moment, since they've all been busy getting' the flight deck back in
order, but Ah'm sendin' a note to Sergeant Stalansky to let him know
Six's got a new pilot."

Cowboy looked back up at Elrin. "In the meantime, feel free to check
her out fer yerself, get a feel fer her. Any pilot worth his wings
should know the insides of his fighter at least as well as his crew
chief does," he said, smiling again. "There anythin' else Ah can help
you with, Pilot?"

"No sir, thanks." Elrin nodded as he looked over the ship, appearing
satisfied with what he saw.

The other pilot nodded, smiling a little as Elrin took in his new
ride. "Alright, then, if you have any other questions, feel free to
track me down again, Ah'll prob'ly be down here a bit longer. Welcome
to the Vanguards, Vixen."

"Thanks sir."

"Stopping the Unstoppable" Part 3

Lt. Jg Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova Intel officer
Lt. Kimberly Burton Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Dhanishta Eshe Chief Engineer

***USS Galaxy, Deck 11, Science Lab***

"Rock paper scissors?" she asked turning to Kimberly holding up a fist.

"Huh?" Kimberly replied, thrown for a moment by the complete non-sequitur.

Dhanishta let out a faint laugh, "For which one of us is going down to
Intel to persuade Bental to give us clearance??" she trailed off, her
hand flapping to her side with a gentle sigh. "Never mind." she
pouted, "I just love working blind." she muttered factiously.

Turning back to the desk she prodded one of the padds absently as she
tried to think of other possibilities. "The only indication that we
have as to why exactly we have to try and 'put you down'," Dhanishta
began, "is that something happened where you became a risk?" she
pursed her lips for a moment. "That would indicate that something in
there went click," she illustrated with a gentle tap to her temple
with a solitary finger, "flipped a switch and strange things
happened?" she looked up at Eve, "am I right?" she asked.

"I 'became a risk' only insofar as I no longer responded to external
orders. A robot or computer might be described as 'going rouge' in
similar circumstances - it's not doing what it's been told to."
Valentina paused, then continued, deciding the information she was
about to reveal was pertinent enough without breaching anything Saul
might consider important. "In my case, one of the two instances I was
actually following my dormant programming. This aspect I have full
control over now. I think. The second incident ... I don't know, I
just ignored the rest of the world for my target objectives. So,
nothing 'strange' happened, depending on your point of view."

"Okay then," Dhani continued staring hard at the desk as if it had the
answers she was looking for, " the suggestion is that we try to
rewrite whatever program is inside that head of yours, so it doesn't
happen again. Or?" she paused scratched the back of her neck, "we
attempt to block out the mechanical, so we are only dealing with the
'human' half as it were?." She looked to both women for suggestions,
comments, and hopefully some ideas.

"I'll discount rewriting my programming." The cyborg sat up and
popped open an access panel on the side of the biobed. Detaching one
end of an ODN line she pushed it into the synthetic flesh of the back
of her left hand then closed her eyes. Seconds later a stream of code
began to run across the screen. It wasn't in any definable pattern,
some lines running up, some down, others at various angles, the
character of each line changing with a fluidity that was headache
inducing should you stare at it too long, the colors ranging from blue
to red in just as random a pattern. "That's just the operational
coding for the performance of my number 3 bicep fiber bundle." She
opened her eyes and looked at the two, the patterns of coding on the
screen altering as she flexed her arm. "So I suggest we work on
blocking the mechanical."

Dhanishta couldn't hide a frustrated sigh as she looked at the stream
of coding. It was complex, to the point that it was giving her a
migraine. She sat down on her stool for a moment, her eyes glazing as
they looked over the screen. The illumination lit up her face as the
stream flowed across the screen. Eve's entire body was a complex
integration of machine, programs and organic tissue. To even begin to
separate the two would be like trying to un-toast toast! And
rewriting her program could take years, not to mention the fact that
her system would probably reject it instantly, regard it as a threat
and then Kahless only knew what would happen. Cyborg or not she could
still be sliced and diced with a bat'leth!

"Well, if we can't re-write the code, and it takes multiple EMP
strikes just to incapacitate you, we have a problem." Kimberly
admitted, "If all EMP does is temporarily incapacitate you we can stop
you briefly, then we're right back where we started. We can likely
pick you up and move you to a secure location, but who's to say that
we can hold you there. What we need is a way to isolate and
neutralize your nanite repair system, 'freezing' it as it were so that
it cannot repair the damage done until we want it repaired." Thinking
a moment Kimberly looked to Dhanishta, "this might be a little over
the top, and more your department, but if we were to use an EMP strike
coupled with an subspace burst energized with anti-tachyons and
hyper-neutrinos we could 'suspend' all electrical activity within the
nanites, as well as literally halting the activity in the
cyber-musculature."

Dhanishta rubbed her head. Her lips protruded as she mulled the idea
over in her cluttered mind feeling the throbbing increase. "Yeah?"
she replied slowly, trying to wrap her head around what Kimberly was
suggesting. Though it was futile, closing her eyes she deactivated
the screen and leaned her elbows on the table. ~Why does everyone
have to be so complicated?~ she grumped inwardly. Letting out a
slightly deftest sigh she turned her full attention to Kimberly,
trying to ignore the mass of thoughts that came and went in a frenzy
of disjointed ideas and possibilities.

Still looking at Dhanishta Kimberly picked up a PADD and scanned the
ships database for some notes, "Using the subspace burst we could also
create a temporary subspace 'pocket' and encase Eve within it, so that
even if the burst fails to slow her down or her systems overcome the
shock we can still leave the pocket in a deep subspace layer until it
can be maneuvered into a secure facility and release her." Looking to
Dhanishta she raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "downside being is that
you'll kill any ship board systems in the vicinity, anti-tachyons are
inimical to federation technology, frell, any technology we're aware
of. So gravity, lights, computers, anything in the radius of the
effect will be dead."

"Whaddya think?" she asked the chief engineer, aware that she had just
proposed a device that would do massive damage to parts of her
precious ship.

Dhanishta concealed her rolling eyes before letting them rest fully on
the Doctor, "It will be more than gravity and the lights that will be
affected if we do that," she informed her flatly, "the amount of power
needed to create a subspace layer could blow the entire ship up. If
it took place anywhere near the warp core you won't even be able to
scan the dust particles."

She frowned at the puzzled expression on Kimberlys face. "Cause there
won't be any." she informed her bluntly. Running her hand down her
face, lingering to rub her chin she attempted to think through
Kimberlys proposal, rather than dismissing it out of hand. "If the
calibration was right we may be able to pull it off without blowing
ourselves up, but we would still be dead in space?" she trailed off,
regarding an errant thought.

"What about replacing all her mechanical components?" Dhani suggested
pensively frowning. She turned back to the monitor, reactivating it
she pulled up data on cloning for reference as she spoke, "by taking a
sample of Eve's DNA, which is present throughout her organic tissue,
we could make an anaphylactic clone," she looked up at the two women,
her eyes narrowing slightly, "the clones mind... brain," she corrected
herself, for some reason it seemed extremely twisted to suggest this,
"would be removed and replaced with Eve's, Val's, brain."

"The technology has been approved for when bio-synthetics cannot be
used and brain transplants are possible." she assured them both. "We
could even transplant your ovaries, rather than using the clones." she
added as if that might seal the deal on Eve's end. Inwardly she
mockingly laughed at that thought. Dhanishta couldn't begin to
contemplate how all this sounded to a woman that had been abducted
centuries ago, had her insides replaced with all sorts, to then be
offered a 'real' body? suddenly the name Pinocchio popped inside her
mind, she frowned not quite sure what the reference was, ~Where the
hell have I picked that name up from?~ Blinking several times she
dismissed it and regarded her colleagues, brows arching, head tilting;
seeking approval.

"There's a problem with that," Val said, having thought it through
even before Dhani had finished?.

TBC?

"One Day More" - Part 1

Lieutenant Saul Betnal
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Leader

Flight Officer Ella Grey
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Member

Cadet Artemis Bancroft
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Member (Marc)

Shin Takashi
Executive Administrator, Lambda Vered I (Omar)

Laura Corbo
Hollingston Corporate Representative - Assigned to Lambda Vered I (Omar)

*

The music was playing as loud as the computer console in Saul's quarters
would let it. The Dutchman was in a work trance, totally focused, feverishly
reading and digesting the information presented to him by the console
screen, PADDs and holoprojector.

"Welcome to the jungle." He mindlessly hummed along with the guitar. "We got
fun n' games."

Zanthus City. Saul had to hand it to M'Kantu - the Captain knew who to send
to Lambda Vered I. Intelligence reports on the Hollingston corporation
reminded Saul a lot of his own homeworld. The corporation enjoyed the
autonomy and freedom that life on the fringe provided, and created a
Capitalist corporate culture which belonged to darker eras from four hundred
years ago.

"If you got the money, honey, we got the disease."

Images and dossiers of corporate officers, trade route, account reports. In
the darks, the ever shifting pictures blended and painted the room and Saul
in outlandish hues. After a while, Saul began to utilize his own private
sources to complement the data provided by SFI HQ. The effort beared fruit,
and little by little the jigsaw puzzle pieces fell in place.
Saul considered what he would do instead of the corporate board if the
Lambda Vered asset was at risk. His conclusion matched the story told to him
by the mass of tiny details.

They weren't leaving.

"..Welcome to the jungle, it gets here worse here every day..."

No. Hollingston was there to stay. Or at least that's what they thought.

* * *

The music playing as Artemis Bancroft prepared herself for her assignment
was a different sort of beast than that blaring through Saul Bental's
quarters. Molten Rebar was not music for the feint of heart, and it was
rumored that many deaf people were even able to hear the fusion style of
music played by the earth new punk band.

Her roommate had vacated and so Artemis had turned up the music while both
studying and packing. She had the carry-all by the door, already filled
with spare uniform, dress uniform, and other essentials that might be
necessary or useful on the mission. Shi had stopped by a half hour earlier,
and Artemis had been forced to turn down the music while they said their
farewells. Her Andorian friend's antennae were practically quivering with
the audio assault.

The screen on the desk display currently held information about Zanthus
City, and Artemis was working at memorizing the details. She had a good
memory, as all Vulcans do, but not nearly as good as some. She tended to
hold on to some types of information better than others. Information on
cities on colonial worlds out in the middle of space didn't take as well as,
say, the lyrics of Molten Rebar songs, flight algorithms for the latest
small craft in use by Starfleet, and power distribution figures for a
Galaxy-class starship operating at Red Alert.

Probably why I didn't go into science, she thought to herself as she began
putting notes in a padd. If she couldn't remember it, might as well have
the information handy. A chime beeped from the desk. She finished
transferring the notes, sped to the door, dropped the padd into the
carry-all and closed it. She shouldered the bag, sighed at the guitar left
sitting there, and stepped into the doorway. Time to be a Starfleet
Officer.

"Computer, turn off music."

The sonic barrage disappeared, and for a moment it was like all sound in the
universe had ceased.
Artemis frowned. Maybe too loud, she decided and started down the corridor.

* * *

"Our team will join with other teams from throughout the fleet, under the
joint command of Commander Qem-Mber on the Nightview. He is apparently
considered an expert in dealing with large semi-autonomous corporations such
as Hollingston."

Saul hid his contempt well. Qem-Mber's public personal file suggested that
he was a career Starfleet officer, which meant he did not know shit about
corporations like Hollingston. All chances are that he is going to use all
the 'methodologies' and 'dirty tricks' they teach in Starfleet negotiation
course, and he probably read many 'Case Studies' and 'prepared for the
negotiation at hand'.

In other words, thought the intelligence chief, they were going to flay him
alive.

"We will travel to the planet's main city, Zanthus City, by shuttle - as
part of the preliminary group. After we are done talking to the officials
and enjoying the Lambda Vered cuisine, we are supposed to return to orbit
and wait for the evacuation order. When that is given, we are supposed to
systematically move town by town, settlement by settlement, and help the
colonists pack - just like in training."

But it wasn't going to be 'like in training'. Saul knew that much.

Ella crossed her arms, just barely containing a smirk. He hid his emotions
well but there was something - namely their past life together as Eela and
Sotha - that clued her in to the intelligence officer's feelings on the
Commander and their mission. As far as the evacuation went, the plan was
sound and the training had been thorough but she was still weary. No plan,
after all, was full proof.

With a pack slung over one shoulder, Artemis Bancroft listened intently to
the briefing. She'd read as much as she had access to before arriving,
adding the information in with both a Federation History lesson as well as a
Sociology study. While she doubted there was much she could do
diplomatically in the mission, she would at least be able to lend a hand.
In addition to helping the people get themselves clear of the danger, it
would be a learning process. She'd be able to see Federation Diplomacy in
action. It was exciting. Though, the excitement could be that she was
standing almost right next to Ella Grey. Not only was she a famous opera
singer, but more importantly, she was one of the Galaxy's starfighter
pilots. It was hard not to stare. Thankfully, there was a briefing going
on that she had to pay attention to.

* * *

In a part of the office tower that housed the headquarters of Hollongston on
Lambda Vered I, there was a flurry of activity. About a dozen people of
various positions were finishing final preparations to the conference room
usually reserved for guests. Water, salt ice wafers (a local delicacy of
the Colony), old fashioned writing tablets with ink styluses, PADDs....and
recording devices with full audio/visual/holo capabilities.

In another part near the very part, in an office marked Executive
Administrator, one Shin Takashi furiously read the information he had just
received. He knew he didn't have enough time, and thus needed to cram every
byte of information into his mind. A task he was very, very good at. An
instrumental track from the bygone era of turntable rock/hip hop played at a
significantly high volume, a well known underground DJ known as the Kamikazi
DJ, mixing and scratching furiously with sounds and effects that would make
the uninitiated bleed from their ears.

Shin took notice of the vessels that were in convoy, the officers in
command, and specifically the members of the team that were to arrive within
the hour. One name stood out more than any other. Bental. While Shin has
no knowledge of the one that was coming, he knew of another Bental with whom
he has had dealings with.

He also was no fool. Their coming here was a combination of pleasantry,
diplomacy, and espionage, or scouting for want of a better term. The Exec
was fully aware of the potential aggressive removal of the people from
Zanthus City and the rest of the Colony. Personal ambition aside, it would
be tantamount to killing the colony off. The investments made, the blood
and sweat that went into this place. It was why Shin took precautions at the
very mention of a potential move by the Federation to indoctrinate the
colonists in civil disobedience. The people will resist to the bitter end
by not moving an inch voluntarily.

And if the people from Starfleet start to get rough...well. The Lambda
Veredian Security Administration had an answer for that.

* * *

"... makes Lambda Vered I different is the organized security force. Most of
the colonies are small or communal enough not to require an armed force, but
unless this plays out right they may attack us. Let me make this clear - the
scenario where we have a firefight with organized security forces is
unacceptable. Even if we take them all out without casualities - and we
won't."

Saul stopped pacing and paused to watch the team, trying to assess who among
them understood exactly what they were getting into. It would be these
people he'll offer to take part of his plan on his planet. A plan which he
did not intend to disclose here, and which was the best way to remove the
Federation presence on Vered Lambda I.

"Anyone got anything to say?" He inquired.

Artemis signaled she had something to say and stepped forward. "Should
worse come to worse, sir, and the security force is used to re-iterate a
desire on the part of Lambda Vered I to not leave, what will our fallback
plan be? If we are not going to engage their security forces, and they are
unwilling to leave the planet, how will we handle the situation if their
resistance is greater than our diplomatic persuasion?"

"If you're fired upon by Hollingston's security forces, you shoot back.
We'll be carrying plenty of non-lethal ammunition precisely for that case.
In case of regular citizenry we are expected to try and negotiate, and not
harm them unless it means our death. In any case we will first fall back and
then we'll wait for the higher ups to decide which plan to execute. But
first we fall back, with zero causalities. There will be plenty of
evacuation shuttles bearing transporters to make sure that happens."

[To Be Continued...]

"Wolf in Sheep's Clothing"

Zeke Crawford, Farmer
First Sergeant Niklaas Furji , SFMC (NPC)

Day Station Plantation, Tropical Zone, New B'Hala Colony, Gamma Vered II
=======================================================

"Wait? did you hear that?"

The question was answered with an abrupt hand signal from First
Sergeant Niklaas followed by another for the platoon to crouch and
take cover amongst the rows of raktajino bushes. It was impossible to
move quietly, the frosted ground making a loud crunch with every step.
Cautiously, the troopers on point used keen eyes and tricorders to
scan the abandoned plantation, but Day Station Plantation was occupied
only by hibernating field rodents and the restless spirits of happier
times. Children's toys were still scattered in the back yard and less
portable tools lay on the workbench of the small maintenance shop, all
placed as if the owners had paused for the mid-day meal. As the 3rd
platoon of the 188th Starfleet Marines explored the farm, each soldier
felt the haunting presence of the place saddled with the grim task
they had been ordered to perform.

Niklaas Furji felt it more than the troops under his command. As a
Bajoran, he knew what had drawn the settlers to this system, and what
made then want to resist their move. Throughout the plantation he saw
many signs that reminded him of Bajor ? the craftsmanship and design
of the various buildings, as well as the small shrine to the Prophets,
reminded him painfully of home and how these people had brought that
special part of their homeworld here. He say the dozens of crisp
tracks in the frost leading to the thickly forested hills to the south
and wondered what he would do if he was put in their position, and
then the cold feel of his phaser rifle reminded him that he was a
soldier, not a settler.

Soldiers followed orders.

They didn't have to like them.

"Report Corporal Haas."

The human scout huffed towards his platoon leader, thick clouds of
vapor filling the air with his breath. "Sir ? they've bugged out.
Twenty-plus headed due south probably no more n' six hours ago.
Loaded for bear, but movin' fast? an' they got kids, Sir. Probably two
or three all under ten."

~Shit.~

"There's another thing, Sir. One figure went solo north-east about
four hours ago, heading down towards the village thirty clicks down
the valley. Surprised we didn't see him."

"Galaxy pick up anything on sensors?"

"Oh yeah, as much as we're getting from tricorders, First Sergeant.
They must be using some kinda scrambler ? we're picking up thousands
an' thousands of ghost signals all-over the place, Sit. They've got
the gizmos planted throughout these hills ? Galaxy's tellin' us
there's the population of a small city down here."

"Small city, eh? Well, where's the welcome wagon?" Niklaas Furji's
lead corporal knew a rhetorical question when he heard one and said
nothing, knowing that the Sergeant was less-than-pleased with the
current mission. Patiently, he waited for the Bajoran's melancholy to
pass and new orders to be issued.

Niklaas looked at the snow-dusted forest on the southern hills leading
to rugged, ice-capped mountains. The Bajoran settlers on Gamma Vered
II had not forgotten the lessons Cardassian occupation had taught them
? once bitten, twice shy as his human comrades might say. He was
certain that the farmers on the plantation knew every game-trail these
hills had to offer, and every pond, marsh, creek and cavern. The
sensor-ghost trick was an old one, and would buy the settlers time?
but not much. The Federation was a lot more tech-savvy than the
Cardies ever were.

A marine is accustomed to less-than pleasant smells ? it's the nature
of the job. Humping an eighty-pound pack of gear in hard terrain gave
the trooper an odor particular to each of his species, and at first
Niklaas thought the scent was the result of his human corporal's
exertion. A sniff in the air suggested otherwise, and the
skunk-like-smell seemed to be coming from the farmhouse.

===

"Merry Christmas, boys." When Zeke released the small dead-man switch
in his palm, he almost regretted the act. It was, after all, the best
barbecue he had ever had the pleasure to grill with.

===

"AMBUSH!"

The scream happened after the explosion, and Corporal Haas had borne
the worst of it. Facing the propane cylinder, the steel shell had
shattered like shrapnel, and a cast-iron grill had found its way under
Haas' helmet and crushed the human's larynx. Wide-eyed, the corporal
lay on the ground and could manage only a struggling gurgle as he
attempted breath. Two other troopers nearby had received shrapnel
damage to their legs and would be unable to move in the field. They
were hurt, but not critically.

The First Sergeant slapped his com-badge and opened the common channel
to the starship. "Galaxy, this is Niklaas ? emergency medical
transport to Sickbay, signals Haas, Ferguson and Mendez." Seconds
later the white fields glowed blue as the Galaxy's transporter effect
removed the injured men. Using hand signals once more, Niklaas sent
privates Thorne and T'Kinre to scout the perimeter as his platoon dig
in. Twenty in the fields of raktajino, five near the farmhouse and
another five near the barn and roasting sheds. For minutes, the only
sounds were the constant crunch of the scouts movements through the
frost, and the deep breathing of the troopers dug in.

Niklaas took the time to check his tricorder and cursed and the
readout. The short-range sensor revealed at least fifty-lifesigns,
but careful observation at the ghosts' even movement over the rough
terrain showed them for what they were. Other than his platoon, there
were no true biosigns in the valley. The propane cylinder had been a
trap, but it must have been set up hours before. The Bajoran cursed
himself for his sentimental sloppiness and signaled his troops to rose
and fan-out, but motioned for his remaining NCO's to attend him.
Corporals Alderson and Connoly were alert and quick to obey.

===

~Well, hello there leader-type~, mused Zeke Crawford through his
hi-mag oil lens. He had to admit that at least the SFMC was
marginally smarter than the usual security forces Starfleet
maintained, with each trooper uniformly camouflaged in light-grey and
white. It had always amused him that the fleet color-coded their
personnel, and during his earlier days with the Section he had always
liked to 'eat the red ones last'. The Marines were smart, but
body-language always made out the leader of the pack as long as you
had the time and patience to look for it.

~Time to give you something to think about, buddy.~

Zeke adjusted Beloved and focused in on another target, this time a
trooper creeping slowly northward amongst the rows of raktajino. A
big male, plodding carefully and alert. The farmer refined the focus
of the lens, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

-zing-

===

-smack-

-crunch-

The sound of the trooper falling into the crisp frost was hundreds of
times louder than the sound of the projectile piercing his helmet and
skull. A second later, the Tactical officer monitoring Niklaas'
platoon chimed in on his private channel that Private Sherwood's
biosigns had flat-lined.

"What?"

[Private Sherwood, Sergeant. Thirty-seven meters to your three-sixty.
We're beaming him to sickbay now.]

A series of taps to his comm and his squad dug in once more, hiding in
whatever the terrain provided. "Galaxy ? any reading on this fucker?"

[Negative, Sergeant ? just yourselves and the sensor-ghosts the
settlers have set up. We're working on a signal-filter, but finding
their broadcast device may prove faster.]

~Useless as tits on a damned Aidjja bull~, Niklaa fumed. Four
troopers down, and no sign of the shooter. "Galaxy, alert Colonel
Arvelion we are taking fire."

[Roger that Sergeant.]

Unable to rely on electronics, Niklaas sprinted to Sherwood's last
location and saw the bright crimson streaked on the white frost. The
position of Sherwood's impact on the frost suggested a shooter to the
east, and the Bajoran took his binoculars to survey the woods for a
sign of the assassin. Two troopers covered their CO.

===

~Don't take this personally, pal~ A different shell was loaded into
the gauss rifle and slammed home. Unrushed, Zeke raised the
gauss-rifle once more and squeezed the trigger. The shielded
magnetics hummed.

-zing-

===

-smack-

Niklaas stood for seconds, his heart and lungs not registering what
his eye and brain had experienced. The Bajoran managed a drooling
mumble that drew the attention of the soldiers who accompanied him,
and both were rewarded with the sight of their Sergeant's head
exploding within his helmet. Covered with the bloody remains of the
NCO's face and brains, the troopers panicked and fired their phasers
into the hills.

"Now that's what I like to see", Zeke smiled as yellow light erupted
in the small valley. As fear and panic swept the platoon, more arcs
of phaser fire caressed the hills, but far short of his location. The
farmer had accomplished the day's goal, but knew that the troopers
would not be hunting for him, bringing their starship's resources more
to bear.

~Let 'em~, he thought as he made some minor adjustments to his own
recently acquired Marine uniform.

"The Shot You Don't Hear..."

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

(Random Colony Site in the Vered Cluster)

The planet wasn't 'that' beautiful that anyone should want to stay here on
pain of death. As a matter of fact, what For'kel had read about this
particular settlement, in it's natural state it was more of a barren desert than
anything. There were a few major mineral deposits true, but the processing and
mining industries only could do so much to make a planet a colony... how this
one managed to keep going despite the fact that it obviously wasn't intended
for colonization boggled the mind. Then again, a little bit of a challenge
was always a good thing.

For him the choice seemed rather obvious. You left the cluster to wait out
the war, maybe if you really wanted to be the first back joined Starfleet,
did your duty and service for the people you considered your own, and returned
back to your life once the war was over and security restored. The land
might have symbolic meaning to the colonists true, but symbolism wasn't lost due
to a strategic withdrawal. It would be as symbolically 'home' to them
whether they left or not, well if they were alive anyway. And their best chance
for staying alive happened to be falling back at this point and time.

That was his own philosophy though, and one colored by his experiences. "As
an instructor back at my home colony once put it 'You can always re-capture
territory lost, you could never recapture the life of the soldier who died
defending it.'"

Private Owens saw things differently obviously. "Well Colonel, the
difference is we volunteered to fight for, and die if need be, for this territory. I
think we're duty bound to defend it."

"Actually, I think we volunteered to defend the citizens of the Federation,
and more importantly the Federation's ideals and way of life. That is a
system which must survive the loss of even member worlds, and ultimately, so long
as that system is in tact we are doing our jobs."

"So you think sacrificing planets to an enemy is acceptable?" She perked an
eyebrow. "With all due respect, sounds a little cold to me, sir."

For'kel chuckled. A lot of officers might have considered that as being out
of line, but they were having a conversation, and he wouldn't have allowed
it to progress this far if he wasn't genuinely interested in her feelings, or
enjoying the verbal sparring at least a little. "Well Private, in my opinion
expecting tens of thousands to lay down their lives for the homes of a far
smaller number of people is greedy and short sighted, particularly when you're
asking millions more beyond them to put their own homes in risk." After
all, any response to save the Vered Cluster would inevitably siphon resources
from the defense of other areas. He shrugged. "But to each, their own."

She nodded, figuring it best to leave it at that.

"So where are we heading now, sir?" Corporal B'ran, the Andorian heavy
weapons specialist with them... conspicuously missing most of the usual
equipment, asked as they walked forward. Below them the rather tall prairie grass
swooshed in their wake, golden waves of wild straw being pressed down at
interval.

"The next settlement on this planet." For'kel answered directly as they
walked. Normally they would just beam in, or take a few Argos. But Fork had
always been the kind to march... there were something to be said for the
virtues of using your own legs. Besides this was a nice planet, and the rest of
his platoon had their argos... in any case although he was anticipating
resistance there was no reason to believe that resistance would become violent.

"Galaxy to Colonel Arvelion. Sir third platoon is taking apparent sniper
fire. They're claiming they've been ambushed."

Well now, there was that. "Damnit." For'kel sneered, tapping his combadge.
"Acknowledged Galaxy. What's third platoon's current location?"

"Approximately 250 clicks west, south-west of your present location, sir."

Hell, they weren't walking 'that'. "Hoppers 1 and 2, head for Platoon 3's
current position to provide aerial support. I want all rules of engagement
and unit security procedures followed at all times, understood?"

"Hopper 1, aye sir."

"Hopper 2, we're on our way sir."

"Try and get a transporter lock on any lifesigns you detect. If you can't,
they're sensor ghosts. Mark them for comparison. Arvelion out." The
Stagnorian hoped his Marines wouldn't be engaged, but if there was going to be a
fight there was going to be a fight.

And that's when he stopped. Something struck him as funny... well worse
than funny. It was a smell.

"Sir?" Private Owens tapped his arm.

"Private, do you use a scented soap or shampoo?"

The question struck her as unusual. "Uhhh... no sir, not in a while. Why?"

"Lilac." For'kel raised an eyebrow. "I smell lilac." And he doubted any
of the 4 men in the squad used lilac heavily.

"Well we 'are' in the middle of the plains, sir."

"Lilac grows on shrubs Private, we're on the plains... not a shrub for
clicks in any direction, and my sense of smell isn't 'that' keen." He started
moving again, keeping a normal pace as if nothing happened before whispering
while looking dead ahead. The wind was blowing from their backs, so whoever was
following them was behind them. "We're being followed."

"Are you serious?" Leah took from his lead, not looking back. "By who?"

"A hunter most likely." Or someone else who knew what they were doing. Had
it not been for the single mistake in their selection of cover, he'd
probably haven't noticed them for some time.

"What are your orders, sir?" His companion asked calmly, with a thinly
veiled edge behind her voice suggesting she was getting ready to fight or fly.

For'kel gave the hand signal to stop and get down, being careful to look as
if he'd spotted something ahead of him, rather than looking back for the
sniper 'just' yet. "An old trick they don't teach you in basic, Private. If
we're being followed, I intend on leading our pursuer into an ambush. I want
you to approach Corporal B'ran, tell him to take Private Yodes forward as if
they're scouting ahead, normal procedure. Once they find decent cover and
concealment I want them to turn around and be prepared to fire. Tell them
they'll know what they're looking for when they see it. I want you and Private
Lers to spread out, as if we were setting up a defensive posture outboard." He
reached for what he knew as a 'flare' grenade but was known more commonly in
the Marines as a 'flash-bang' for what it did. "Once you hear this go off,
turn and open up on anything out of the ordinary. Keep your weapons on heavy
stun... I don't want anyone being seriously harmed."

Naturally wishes didn't always come true, but it was nice to wish.
===================================================

Nikolai Khrushko was really a boy in a man's body. Despite being a whole 24
terran years old, he still read military history books like he did as a kid.
And where many boys played 'cowboys and indians' or 'cops and robbers',
Nikolai always chose to reenact the greatest sniper duel of the greatest war
Earth had known up until World War III.

And again, he never really grew up. Yeah he had a job, he had friends, a
girlfriend, a life (theoretically), but when it came time to defend what was
rightfully his, he fell back on fantasy.

The hero Vasily Zaytsev was his role model. The master sniper had over 400
kills during World War II, and served valiantly and courageously during the
battle of Stalingrad. He had parried with the best snipers in the world in
the fascist enemy, and claimed no less than eleven of them. As a boy he'd
hunted the fiercest beasts imaginable in the Russian forests, as Nikolai did on
this planet. He'd learned everything he could from Zaytsev... and had
assembled his gilley suit himself from the vegetation around his home town. It had
taken him several hours to get this far, to hide and wait until he was in a
position to stalk his prey. Patience was a virtue to the sniper, and Nikolai
could be very patient.

He mimicked his hero right down to the choice of rifle. The old
Mosin-Nagant which had gone through a dozen barrels and two dozen stocks in it's
life-time originally belonged to his great-great-great-great-great... well one of
his paternal ancestors who'd used the rifle in the actual battle of Stalingrad.
He'd replicated the scope, and the special armor piercing ammunition to the
exact historical specifications of his idol.

The rifle's message was clear, etched into the wood-grain casing. 'To the
Hero of the Soviet Union Zaytsev Vasily, who buried in Stalingrad more than
300 fascists.' And Nikolai was intent on getting himself some fascists today.

He observed his targets from 300 meters away, easy distance for a trained
shooter. It didn't take him long to figure out that For'kel was the leader.
With his first adversary in sight, he began the methodical process of taking
aim. Monitoring his breath, trigger and sight alignment, adjusting his scope
and ofcourse inserting the first round. The sound was barely audible.

It certainly got For'kel's attention though. And the Stagnorian used the
momentary sound to disguise his own 'click'... the arming of his grenade.

The great Vasily Zaytsev had eliminated entire squads effortlessly, pinned
down whole companies on his own, harassed the Germans to such a point that
multiple times he himself had become a target... only to kill his hunters and
once again slip away.

"There was no ground for us beyond the Volga." Nikolai repeated the famous
words of his hero as he readied his shot. A clean head shot... a kill shot.
The words had special meaning today... like his hero he was defending his
home from fascist enemies who'd come to take it for their own purposes. Thus
it was intended to end the life of Colonel For'kel Arvelion.

Of course the great Vasily Zaytsev had never faced a squad of Starfleet
Marines.

As soon as he heard the bolt slide forward to chamber the round, For'kel
tossed behind him the flash-bang. It went off, and he dove for the conceilment
of the large grass. Nikolai's finger pulled back on the light trigger,
sending one 7.62 by 54 millimeter high-caliber, armor piercing round forward at
it's intended target in excess of 800 meters a second. The bright light and
loud bang had a disorienting effect, such that he'd made the stupid mistake to
sharply recoil, and reveal his position.

"Fire!" B'ran shouted, even as the Marines boxed in their assailant with
pulse and beam alike. It didn't take much longer than a fraction of a second
for a blast to find the sniper it was intended for.

They say the shot you didn't hear was the one that had your name on it.
Over the explosion of the grenade, and the ensuing fire fight, not even Fork
would've been able to hear Nikolai's round.

"We got him, we got him!" Leah shouted triumphantly as she got up, careful
to make sure there wasn't another shooter in the vicinity before racing
towards her commanding officer. "I can't believe that wor..." what she saw
stopped her cold dead in her tracks. Disbelief had that effect, and walking on to
a veritable crime scene certainly sew disbelief. "Oh fuck!" She hit her
combadge. "Man down! Medic! I need a God damned medic here now!"

"What's going on?" B'ran asked as he ran up.

"One Day More" Part 2

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Leader

Flight Officer Ella Grey
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Member

Cadet Artemis Bancroft
Lambda Vered I Evac Galaxy Team Member

Shin Takashi
Executive Administrator, Lambda Vered I

Laura Corbo
Hollingston Corporate Representative - Assigned to Lambda Vered I

*

Cadet Bancroft's question was one that Saul knew would come up. He also knew
that no one in his room would like the answer, including himself.

"If you're fired upon by Hollingston's security forces, you shoot back.
We'll be carrying plenty of non-lethal ammunition precisely for that case.
In case of regular citizenry we are expected to try and negotiate, and not
harm them unless it means our death. In any case we will first fall back and
then we'll wait for the higher ups to decide which plan to execute. But
first we fall back, with zero causalities. There will be plenty of
evacuation shuttles bearing transporters to make sure that happens."

* * *

Saul's fist connected with the punching bag. The synthetic leather cover
scraped his knuckled, and it seemed that the Dutchman was more hurt than the
bag. But he was not here to practice; He was here to vent.

In the far corner of the gym, the bag keeping him obscured from the regular
resident (he wasn't amongst their ranks), he had time to think. There were
plenty of drawer plans, well thought out, but all of them were thought out
by Starfleet officers. Be they psychologists, diplomats, field people,
security... none of them could grasp the mind of those they were about to
oppose. Not the civilians, and certainly not the corporate.

Saul recalled Miramon's statement about using force on the civilians. Are
the civilians really so desperate that they are going to risk an all-out
civil war in the middle of another war just to cling to their puny piece of
land?

He thought that if they wanted it so much, they should leave them along even
if the Hydrans wipe them to the very last one. But that would be a great
morale blow, plus it would give the Triad plenty of Federation hostages to
use as leverage in the cease fire negotiations which are bound to take
place. That, and not worrying about the colonists themselves, was probably
the prime reason that the evacuation was mandatory.

A firefight was out of the question, but so was letting Hollingston remain.
If one colony will remain, the rest will demand fair treatment. It was a
no-win situation.

He'll have to think of a way to make Hollingston leave. A way that won't
involve shooting.

* * *

Artemis tried to keep her expressions neutral. The prospect of the Away
Team mission was both thrilling and frightening. The idea that phaser fire
could happen made her nervous, but despite her age she'd been trained to use
one. It really sounded like getting the people out of the colony was going
to be difficult closing in on impossible.

"If anyone has any suggestions regarding how to peacefully remove the
Hollingston corporation - talk to me." said Saul.

Raising a hand to be recognized by the lieutenant, Artemis glanced around.
"Sir, it really sounds like Ferengi, if you know what I mean. What if we
approach it that way? All we would need to do is convince them there's
greater profit in leaving than in staying."

Simplified, thought Saul, but right on track.

"I agree. That should be the key strategy when negotiating with corporate
leaders. I happen to know that the Federation warned the corporate that
resistance will result in severe trade sanctions. But they're very
persistent."

If the Triad won't be repelled, Saul thought, the sanctioning threat won't
be worth to much. He had a growing suspicion that the corporation was
putting its chips on the Triad. He was also curious is the other people in
the room caught the full meaning of what the cadet suggested.

"Sir, are there examples that can be shown to the corporate leaders of
situations similar to this that have panned out poorly in the past for those
in their position? I mean, if we can show them, even if they're counting on
getting sweet with the Hydrans if things swing that way, that they're likely
to not live long enough to count up all their money, maybe they'll change
their mind. As they say, what good's money if you're not around to spend
it?"

"Oh, we're going to threaten them, and they're going to threaten us. In a
more subtle way than Artemis presents here." Saul memorized the names and
faces of all the Galaxy team members, of course. "Our team's objective is
mostly the evacuation itself, less diplomacy, but I am going to forward your
suggestion."

That statement made him sound like a paper-pushing wuss, but those he's
going to select - and Artemis just marked herself as one of them - will find
that nothing is farther from the truth.

* * *

A quick trip by shuttle was always a nice way to clear one's mind, and Laura
was no exception. But the location she just came from had nothing to do
with relaxing, and cut deep into the true reason why Corporate was adamant
about staying.

>From her cabin behind the pilot cockpit, she signaled for a quick ascent
into the lower atmosphere while they were still on the "Dark Side". Once at
the proper altitude, she opened up a highly encrypted channel to the
Hollingston Corporation Headquarters.

After transmitting her findings, the shuttle returned to normal cruise
altitude. Laura was still having a hard time grasping what she had just
been able to confirm. She needed to let Shin know exactly what how he
needed to proceed and not fuck it up for Corporate.

* * *

A clean set of uniform and a clean set of civilian attire, both
vacuum-folded to take minimal space.

A compact thermal sleeping bag. It was amazing these things could unfold to
six feet by two and a half bag.

A handbag with toothbrush, soap, and enough medication and nutrition pills
for three weeks.

Water.

Saul reached for the next item on the disheveled bed. It looked like an
E-Book about the history of the Vered cluster, but its true nature was
wisely concealed within it, courtesy of SFI technological corps.

That was it. Saul believed in travelling light.

Shirtless, he wondered to his closet, picking a duty uniform. The black
colors looked especially ominous today.

He wore the uniform, then grabbed a black glove and slipped it on his
healthy hand. The encasement on the other arm was hidden almost completely
beneath the sleeve. Saul glared at it solemnly, as if disappointed.

Finally, a micro Ion Pulse pistol made its way from from the locked bottom
drawer to the small holster strapped to the encasement. The nasty little
thing was for backup, and Saul assumed it will remain concealed until the
evacuation will be over. It had no stun setting.

He gently took the bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder.

"Computer, open doors. Come, Thing."

His Barzan pet launched itself from its regular room corner, and slipped
into Saul's pocket. A pair of beady eyes peeked out of the hiding place,
thrilled about the adventures ahead. Saul was less thrilled.

But he was ready.

OOC: Takes place before the action occuring on the planet.

"Departing"

1st Lieutenant Branwen London

Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia

Bran spotted her husband on the hangar deck. It was hectic and very busy
but she made her way over to him knowing there wasn't much time, but they
might be going into a dangerous situation and she was worried about him.

"Are you allright?" She asked anxiously.

Turning, Man'darr looked at his wife and grinned. What he had done to her
still hurt him deeply, but he wanted to reasure her that he was fine. "Yes,
I am fine. How are you doing?"

"I am fine. But you, we have to work on the Colonel to save your career. I
don't understand why he is taking this action when I'm not pressing
charges. It has nothing to do with work, it was a private matter."

"I am still under his command and his executive officer. He will calm
down."

"So he dropped the charges?" Bran asked. In such a public place she could
not embrace him.

"I do not know. However, I am still serving as the executive officer of
this detachment and I have not lost rank. I will be fine, just be careful
down there." Man'darr wanted to hold her...after all she was his wife and
it still pained him greatly knowing that he had hurt her.

"I will, and you promise me to be careful as well." She said tenderly.
"And I apologise again for getting you into trouble."

"The fault was not yours, Branwen."

"That's what everybody said. I knew it would make you angry. I was upset,
and I was baiting you. In my book that makes it my fault." She said
stubbornly.

"I should have had better control of my emotions," he said holding her close
to him. He did not care who saw, besides, everyone knew they were married
now.

It felt good being in his arms, safe and warm so she did not pull back. Dar
had already promised that he would see a counselor now, so she was pretty
happy about that. "you will learn." She said with convinction. "Because you
are a good man."

"Thank you. I believe you are few aboard the ship who still believes so."

"They don't know you as I do. And they shouldn't judge, this was something
between the two of us, private." She held him close. "I know it will never
happen again."

"No, it will not." He would rather die than hurt Branwen again.

"Good." She believed him, and somehow she felt better about their
relationship now. "I know it won't." Gently she kissed him on the lips.
"And together we will show everybody else."

"I hope you are right," he said as he returned her kiss.

"Women are always right." She teased. "That doesn't mean it's going to be
easy."

"That is true," he replied in regards to it not being easy.

"Well I am glad you agree to female superiority." She grinned and kissed the
tip of her nose. "No risks down there, promise?"

"I was referring to your comment about it not being easy, not to female
supremacy," Man'darr grinned and then let out a sigh. "I promise to be
safe."

"Good. You and I can do with a bit of good luck." Reluctantly she let him
go. "I guess duty calls now. Stay in touch if you can down there."

"I will," he said as he looked down at Branwen.

Again she hugged him, and held on to him for dear life, as if she never
wanted to let go. Going into deployment, Branwen was never afraid for
herself, but she was for the people around her.

Man'darr returned the hug, and after a minute let go. "The shuttles are
almost filled. We should go. Don't worry, I'll see you on the surface," he
said with a grin.

"See you there." Reluctantly she let him go, and then made her way over to
her own shuttle, where the other members of her team were waiting already.

OOC: This takes place just before Saul's team arrives at Zanthus City.

"Pretense Of Solidarity"

*'Dark Side', Northern Hemisphere, Lambda Vered I*

**
**

Around the colony, in the various subterranean townships on the 'Dark Side',
to the semi-surfaced spires of the 'Bright Side', it was business as usual.
Meals were being made, ore being mined, children playing. The only stark
difference were the orange ribbons on every one's arm or thigh, around their
neck or worn as bandannas around the younger crowd's heads.

In some places, debates were heated where men and women discussed the pros
and cons of staying. One man described a story his grandfather told him
regarding their ancestors who were forcefully removed from a region on
Earth. While that particular discussion quieted somewhat in solemn
reflection, there were things that were going on elsewhere that had nothing
to do with patriotism, solidarity, or keeping their homes that they've made.

Out deep on the icy tundra, a small group moved towards a fairly large
opening that rose somewhat from the ground. There were track lights on
either side of the opening that were not lit. The group, upon further
inspection, carried long items that the experienced observer would identify
as weapons.

The group numbered about fourteen, in TundraGear which is manufactured by
one of Hollingston's subsidiaries. The outfits worked somewhat like
environmental suits, but without the restrictions that came with them.
Geared specifically towards prolonged sub-zero operations, these suits were
designed to ensure the maximum working comfort and utility for the wearer.

Each suit was also prewired for broadband and point to point communications,
allowing the wearer to simply attach the transmitting device of his or her
choice, and be on their way. They also had numerous pockets for extra items
such as rations, tools...ammunition packs. Finally, in the event of
unforeseen confrontations, they are equipped with both ballistic armor in
the deepest layer, and a stun resistant material in one of the outer
layers. This material (developed by Hollingston's Defense Concepts
Division) was designed to absorb the energy from a stun blast, although the
wearer will still feel the force of it.

When the small group arrived at the entrance, a signal was transmitted by
the team leader, and then they waited for five minutes. A return signal was
received, and the group disappeared into the shadows of the entrance...and
waited. An hour later, as scheduled, A Hollingston shuttle passed by
overhead, hovered, then continued on its way. Another signal was received.
The team leader in turn gave his own signal to the rest.

Short ice shovels were drawn from backpacks and they began digging into the
mixture of ice, dirt and snow. Moments later, they entered these holes,
then drew some of the excavated material in and around them. They were dug
in and hunkered for the next several hours. They knew what to do if any
difficulties were to come their way. Nearby, a sign was posted that read:
Mine #RD9-Stage IV.

"Stopping the Unstoppable" Part 4

Lt. Jg Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova Intel officer
Lt. Kimberly Burton Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Dhanishta Eshe Chief Engineer

***USS Galaxy, Deck 11, Science Lab***

"There's a problem with that," Val said, having thought it through
even before Dhani had finished. "If you look at my brain, it also
contains several synthetics of its own. Most of them are IO's, simply
disconnecting the related equipment will have no lasting effect. What
DOES pose a problem are my eyes and ears." With a twitch of her head
the screen Dhani had shut off blinked back to life - Val had never
removed the ODN line from her hand's IO port. The display on the
screen showed the readings from the quantum imager, focused on the
cyborg's head. "My eyes are pure machine, and my ears are heavily
augmented as well. As a result, certain portions of gray matter were
removed and replaced with specialized chipsets." The appropriate
devices were then highlighted on the display. "I doubt the Federation
has neuro-surgeons that are capable of transplanting whole chunks of
brain matter. Without the chip's, my sight and hearing are toast.
With the chips, I'd need my augmetics, and those can't be replaced
with our technology."

"True," Dhani replied, "they can't be replaced, but the technology
exists to transplant the existing modified portions of your brain. As
far as I am aware there are procedures around that can even replace
brain function?" She looked to Kimberly for confirmation.

"To a certain extent: yes." She agreed, "We'd have to run some tests
and simulations though."

"There's one other thing I forgot to mention, simply because it's not
something one normally thinks about." Val pulled off her duty jacket,
revealing the short sleeved undershirt of Intelligence black.

"Can I get a scalpel please, Doctor?" At Burton's look she let out an
exasperated sigh. "I'm more than capable of killing either of you
right now with my bare hands, and I'm not exactly in the mood to have
a red grin."

That thought hadn't really occurred to Dhanishta mainly due to the
fact that so far she had done nothing that would warrant being killed?
had she? Dhanishta wondered momentarily if Eve/Val thought that the
two of them were afraid of her. Perhaps they should be, maybe that
was the reasoning behind Bental wanting a way to immobilize Eve,
having no prior contact with the woman Dhani could only speculate,
however the comment did leave a trail of cautioning thoughts to clog
the engineers mind.

Carefully handing over the requested tool Kimberly watched curiously.
There were many aboard who could happily kill with their bare hands,
security, marines, and apparently there was a chef on deck fourteen
who could do some neat tricks with knives. It had long since ceased
to bother her how much raw violence that individuals could inflict,
her only concern was usually cleaning up the mess after.

Val described an arc completely around the joint before turning the
blade and dragging it through the flesh of her arm to her wrist.
Cleaning the blade on the inside of her discarded jacket Val handed
the surgical instrument back to Burton and then bent to the task she
had designed. Plunging the fingers of her right hand into the precise
lines cut into her left arm, she slowly peeled the skin away to reveal
muscles not of organic flesh. Coming to her wrist, Valentina let go
and turned her attention to her fingers.

~Ewwww!~ was the only thought that remained in Dhanis mind as Eve
continued her display of just how twisted some people could be? or
rather what lengths a race would go to in order to re-create
Frankenstein's monster!

Inside of little more than two minutes, Val had pulled the skin from
her left arm as if it had been little more than a glove: the entire
area of synthetic skin had been removed to reveal the gleaming yet
non-reflective components underneath. Her bones were pure
matte-silver in color, the artificial muscle fibers a blackish purple.
Tendons could also be discerned, unique in that they were a rather
bright neon green, ligaments a muted neon pink. She moved her arm and
hand, working as perfectly as if nothing untoward had occurred. There
was no hum of servos, no whining of mechanistic qualities -
ultra-high, precision quality craftsmanship had gone into her
synthetics, on a level far surpassing even Savant's android body.

It was only then Dhanishta's mind turned from revulsion to acute
interest and awe. The shear complexity was astounding. Stepping
forward she regarded Eve with a renewed curiosity. If it were
possible to study this technology the Federation might be able to
advance years ahead?

"Now comes the hard part," Val said softly, closing her eyes. Digging
into the muscles and connective tissues of her shoulder with her right
hand, she worked them around and then yanked down. Her entire left
arm came off; the tendons, ligaments, and musculature connective
tissues hung limply off the end of the shoulder, muted silver gleaming
around the spherical shoulder ball. With the sudden disconnect of
power and input the entire left arm went limp, and Eve proffered the
surprisingly heavy limb to Dhani. "My limbs can be detached. Granted
without these I won't be going anywhere, and there's a caveat in the
self repair protocols. Because I removed the limb myself, my nanites
aren't working to replace the missing limb. If it's removed by an
outside source but visible, my systems will recognize the possibility
of 'self graft' as the more resource efficient repair method. This
still leaves open the prospect of getting me in a position to remove
my arms and lower legs."

Dhanishta simply nodded as she held the artificial limb wondering if
Eve would let her keep it indefinitely, ~Slice and dice with a
Bat'leth, not an option.~ she added a mental note, filing it for
future reference.

For a brief moment Kimberly was reminded of a file she had reviewed at
the Academy, a law class where the android Data had undergone a
hearing to review his status. In the trial Riker had removed Datas
arm, then switched him off. ~ Damnit, if Noonian Soong could install
an 'off' switch, why the hell couldn't your lot! ~ Kimberly bitched to
herself as she watched.

Valentina closed her eyes, thinking for a time. "One more thing.
That system limitation is only effective for a certain amount of time,
which is based upon total system damages, available resources, and my
own physical organic condition. With less 'damage' taken, and the
better my health is, the repair delay time will be reduced. After
that timer has elapsed, the rebuild protocols will come into effect
and my systems will begin to reconstruct the missing components on a
prioritized basis."

Dhanishta frowned, "You mean that if your arm isn't reconnected that
your body will 'grow' another?" she asked handing the detached limb
back to Eve.

The cyborg nodded as she reinserted the shoulder back into her empty
socket with an unpleasant pop. Cocking her head to one side she
closed her eyes, arched a brow, then nodded once again. "Nyah, but it
always feels weird when I do that. Now," she continued, looking back
to Dhani. "According to my data filed, here exists within each nanite
subatomic maps of my cybernetics, complete enough that a single nanite
can, over the course of a year, completely rebuild my synthetics.
That's given ideal circumstances, a healthy organic body, and a
plentiful supply of the required inorganic materials. It will begin
by creating more nanites in order to proceed in all expedience. Once
the nanite threshold has been reached, where more nanites won't make
things go any faster, work will be turned towards rebuilding my
systems. Believe me, even I don't know how they made all of this
work, it? just does."

"Oh." Dhani responded with understanding, still marveling at it all.

~ So unless every single nanite is removed or disabled, one is enough
to get her back on her feet, just takes a little longer. ~ Kimberly
mused silently. The medley of technology and bioware here was giving
her a headache.

"We've been attacking this issue from a technological side for quite
some time with little to show save removing my brain and placing it in
a cloned body. Not exactly something I'm fond of at the moment."
Valentina lay back down on the biobed, interlacing her fingers over
her stomach as she continued. "What about a biological solution? The
intent of the new design, IE the human mimicking limbs, was to enable
me and others they planned to make in my pattern, capable of rejoin
society once my task was complete. Perhaps ..." she turned to regard
Burton with her violet eyes. "Perhaps I'm susceptible to chemicals -
anesthetics, for example."

"To be honest, I had assumed with all the technology built into you
that a simple anesthetic would be filtered out by the nanites or some
other such process." Kimberly admitted. "However, at this point, I'm
willing to consider just about anything. I think the simplest
solution for now then would be to run a few tests with typical
anesthetics and see if anything does work." She offered, looking at
the other two.

Dhanishta nodded slowly, she hadn't even considered using
tranquilizers which pretty much made her expertise redundant in this
investigation, "If it works?" she mumbled felling somewhat put out.

"If we can use a simple anesthetic, then if all you're looking for is
a way to be shut down or rendered inert in the event of an emergency,
then all we need do is implant a small remote controlled hypo with a
few doses prepared. Then, if the need arises, one simple signal and
the hypo is activated. If drugs work that is." Kimberly said,
sounding a little dubious.

"Sounds simple enough," Dhani interjected, "give it a go." She took a
seat and watched numbly as Kimberly prepared hypos.

Val looked between the two women, equally terrified and torn. She
didn't want to do this. It would effectively put a leash on her, and
someone with the right combination could put her under. Helpless
again, helpless to do anything to stop them. They could take
everything away from her, leave her a shell of what she was. Still,
she forced herself to nod her consent.

"Okay then," loading a hypospray Kimberly looked to Eve. "We'll start
with a simple barbiturate, Methohexital." She explained. "It's been
used on Terrans for centuries as a general anesthetic. On most
unmodified Humans this is a standard dose usually administered prior
to surgery, it's enough to render a Human unconscious for at least two
hours."

As Kim approached, hypo loaded with aesthetic in hand, Valentina
closed her eyes. "Junction of the neck and shoulder would be best,"
she said, her voice suddenly small, afraid. "Hitting me in the arm
won't do anything."

"Okay then. Lay back and we'll give this a try. It's fairly fast
acting, and if it works you should feel drowsy almost immediately, and
should be asleep within ten seconds. I'll set the biobed to monitor
your vitals just in case though." Setting the bed Kimberly raised the
hypo and placed it against Eve's neck.

A simple hiss of compressed air was all it took, the atomized dose
passing through her skin and into her system. Scant moments later
Valentina fell to the side, a single tear streaking down her left
cheek as her head hit the pillow of the biobed. The built in sensors
confirmed her reaction, perfectly sedated.

Standing up curiously, Dhani stepped over to the bed and double
checked Eve's bio signs. Frowning she turned to Kimberly, "Was that
it?" she asked somewhat agitated, "Is that 'all' we had to do?" her
pitch rose slightly with a trace of indignation as she shook her head.

"It would, er appear so." Kimberly muttered, also a little surprised
at the ease of it. For such a sophisticated mechanism, one that could
shrug off energy blasts with ease, a simple narcotic had rendered her
out cold in seconds. Frowning at the readings on the biobed she
tapped the controls for the support collar and shook her head. "Frell
it! Her reduced biomass?" she muttered.

"What does that mean?" Dhani asked concerned by Kimberlys tone.

"I gave her a typical light dose, it should keep her under for a
couple of hours," she explained, "but she has less organics than a
normal human. I'd better flush the sedative out of her, or she'll be
out all day!" Giving Eve a couple of additional injections she
watched the monitors a moment then nodded, "she should come around in
five minutes or so? If only every problem was that easy to solve."
She added in a softer voice.

"Yeah?" Dhani agreed in a noncommittal murmur. Somehow she just knew
that comment had been aimed at her. Looking at the tranquil form of
the intelligence officer Dhani wondered how much Kimberly wished that
she would go out as easily and as quickly as that.

Valentina slowly opened her eyes, flinching a bit at the sudden
lights. "What happened?" Her voice was weak, slow and croaking.
"I've got one hell of a hangover." she finished.

Dhanishta stepped back from the bed, letting Kimberly in to administer
her infamous bedside manner, after all this was no longer a place for
the Chief engineer, or any engineer for that matter. "I think
Kimberlys cracked it." She commented as she began to pack up her
things. Looking over at the two women as she jammed her data padds
into an empty case she flashed them both a brief smile, "There are a
few kinks to work out, like dosage but apart from that, I think you're
on to a winner there." Closing up the case she nodded to them both,
"I'll let you inform Mr. Bental of your success and details of the
procedure. If you need anything else from me, I'll be in Main
Engineering." With another crisp nod Dhanishta slid the case off the
desk and made her way to the door.

After the door closed behind Dhanishta Valentina looked at the doctor
as she slowly sat up. "What's wrong with her?"

"That, is a very good question." Kimberly replied with a shrug.
"I'll prep an implant for you if you like, in the meantime I suggest
you follow Lieutenant Eshe's advice and speak to Mr. Bental." Holding
up another hypo, "Aerosal? For your headache?" she offered as she
packed.

Val nodded, "Please." Almost immediately after the hiss, came the
relief from the headache. "If you wouldn't mind, please speak to LT
Bental yourself about this. While I won't change any information or
make false reports, it would be a conflict of interest for me to hand
him this report as opposed to yourself."

Nodding as she stowed her hypo Kimberly agreed, "No problem, I'll get
together with him a little later as soon as I've got a proposal for
the sedative implant." She offered. "In the meantime, I think we're
about done here. Thank you," she added, "I have no illusions that
this is something you really want, but I appreciate your patience,
whatever the reasons you and Lieutenant Bental have."

<End>

"Fault"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Chief Engineer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London SFMC Psychologist

(Set After "Forgiveness")

***USS Galaxy, crew quarters***

After Dhanishta's chat with Man'darr a few days ago Dhani was even
more certain that Branwen was making the worst mistake of her life.
However she had learned from the experience that telling Branwen would
be a waste of time, and from her own personal experience; no one likes
to be told something that they already know and don't want to admit
too.

What was it about victims that made them constantly perpetuate the
cycle of abuse? Metaphorically Branwen had 'target' tattooed across
her forehead. Branwens choice in husband was a clear sign that she
had not gotten over what happened to her as a child. Somewhere under
the pretence that she was fully functioning with both sides of her
brain, Dhani knew that she was focused on one side only, the right, or
as popular psychology would have it ? the emotional side. She was far
from the preconceptions that she was stupid, ugly and sinful. In fact
she still believed them. She needed the abuse to confirm what she
thought she was. She needed someone who was aggressive towards her
because she firmly believed that was what she deserved. The physical
bruises it would leave her with would solidify and give external
expression to the depth of emotional agony she was still enduring.

And Man'darr Maivia was just the man to fulfil her longings for this
expression of internal pain. He was from a society that placed males
in a dominant position, (Yes, she'd read up!) that held to honour and
tradition, traditions that were as unbreakable as Branwens father's
religious beliefs were. He was quick to become irate, and he had the
strength to hold her down. She might have been a match for an average
Terran, with her training and position she may have even surpassed the
strength of a typical non-combatant human, but no, she specifically
chose the type of man that could overpower her, one that led with his
fists first! Just like her father did. Without being consciously
aware of it, Branwen had agreed to marry her own father! There was
something extremely Freudian about all this.

Dhanishta let out a long sigh as she rounded the corner to Branwens
quarters. She had thought of the possibility that Man'darr was
around, but she wasn't about to let him stand in the way of the
friendship she had formed with Branwen. And if she wouldn't let him
physically stand in the way then she couldn't let him metaphorically
stand in the way either. Dhani had to do the one thing she wasn't
good at: let it go.

Closing her eyes she tried to push the thoughts from her mind, she
wasn't here for that anyway. She was here to support Bran after going
through what must have been a traumatic operation, emotionally wise at
any rate. Reaching out she depressed the chime and hoped that she
hadn't pissed off Man'darr enough for him to forbid her to see Bran.
Victims rarely led with logic, therefore if Man'darr ordered; Bran
would drum to the tune he hummed. Dhani shook her head; it was
reasons like this that she swore off friendships. If this one went
south too, Dhani would hold fast to that promise she had made to
herself years back as the Galaxy was entering the battle field at
Havras.

"Dhani." Branwen flew into her arms. "The colonel has gone crazy he
has confined me to quarters, I can't go on the mission. It is all my
fault, when the surgeon didn't want to do the surgery I lost my
temper. I insulted Dar and he threw me against the bulkhead breaking
my wrist and head. And now the colonel wants to punish Dar for my
stupidity. I should never have called him a coward. It is all my
fault." She managed to get it all out in about ten seconds and clung
to her friend like a clam shell.

Dhanishta instant reaction was to swat Bran away like an insect.
True, they had made a connection, but she still wasn't used to it.
However she restrained her first desire and pulled Bran closer to her.
It was a reaction to the information that Branwen had let out in a
torrent which hit her with the impact of a Starship in full warp. It
was like any trauma, the facts hit you, then there was a delay as your
mind processed it all and then there was the emotional reaction, and
right now that was swelling within her, turning the embrace into an
intense bear hug.

Dhanishta stumbled forward slightly with Bran clinging to her, the
door closing softly behind them. For once Dhanishta didn't know what
to do, or what to say. The chaos of emotions within fought a bloody
battle. On one had she was furious with Branwen for believing that
she had made Man'darr raise a hand to her, on the other she was
furious that he had done so, and then there was all the irrelevant
crap in-between that Bran raised up as more important than her own
life!

Pealing the distraught marine from her person she escorted the
whimpering bundle and directed her into the nearest available chair.
Stepping back Dhani regarded her for a moment with disgust; it was
reasons like this that she didn't believe in counselling. How someone
with as many emotional problems as Bran could effectively counsel
another was frankly a ridiculous notion. Add to that the Chief
medical officer who was still dealing with murdering someone in cold
blood; she hated to hypothesise what the rest of the counselling
department kept hidden in their closets. And all of them thought that
she needed help? Physician, heal THY SELF!!!!

Shaking her head Dhani said nothing. Her features set to stone as she
turned from Bran and walked to the replicator. Quietly, with only
sniffs and hic-up tears breaking the white noise, she ordered a rather
strong beverage and returned to kneel at Branwens feet, offering up
the drink as the marine looked out with red rimmed eyes from behind
her fingers.

"Thank you." Branwen mumbled. "I'm such a disaster. Now I have cost
him his career, the colonel found out what happened somehow, and he
has relieved Dar as his Xo. His career is so important to him, and now
because of me it is ruined. How am I ever going to make that up to
him, Dhani?"

Dhanishta shook her head and stared down at the floor for a time.
With this kind of talk Dhani could be driven to violent acts upon Bran
herself. "Tell me at what point in time did you actually take over
Man'darrs brain and motor functions." she enquired acerbically.

"Sorry?" Branwen sniffed. "What do you mean, I'm afraid I don't
understand you completely." Her voice sounded nasal because of all
the crying she had done.

Dhanishta looked up into Brans tired eyes. She actually hurt for
Branwen. Seeing her in this state, hearing her talk as if it had all
been her fault, it drove a knife into Dhanishta's tenderised heart.
Dhani didn't do grief very well. She couldn't give in to the pain
because that would be weak. Years of living with Vulcans had taught
her that emotions were bad. And years of living with Klingons had
taught her that anger was good. Anger was fuel, it was lust and
power. So she did the only thing she knew. Turned pain and anguish
into anger and hatred.

"Did you take Man'darrs hands into your own and then place them around
your neck? Did you then throw yourself into a wall?" she questioned
aggressively, "The ONLY way that you could have been responsible for
the actions of another is if *you* committed the act yourself!"
Dhani's voice had risen and continued to rise, "So tell me Bran, did
you throw yourself into a wall?"

"No, of course not. But I know what he is like and his culture and
how important honour is to him. He has warned me before." She looked
at her friend. "I called him a coward, that is about the worst thing I
could have done to him. I am his wife, I should support him through
everything. Don't you see, it really is my fault."

"Oh!" Dhani exclaimed, "So that's okay then. You called him a coward
and he hit you. Well then, what's the problem?" she asked factiously.

"His career! Dar is in the brig and he has been relieved as XO of the
marines." How could Dhani be so daft!

"Who put him in the brig?" Dhani asked surprised.

"The colonel." She said softly. "He refused to believe I walked into a
door. That is why I am confined to quarters as well relieved of duty.
But Dar... I am so afraid of what is going to happen to him. He must
be so confused, and I can't even go to him. He was so sweet to me in
sickbay staying by my side all the time." Bran smiled.

Dhani's jaw fell, "Sweet?" she cried out standing up abruptly,
"Sweet!!!" ~ oh for the love of Kahless!~ "That's not sweet that's
guilt you ?" Dhani bit her tongue from calling Bran stupid, she had
enough of that in her life and even though right now the analogy was
correct it wasn't the best thing to say. She shook her head instead
feeling incensed. "Branwen please tell me now, when violence is the
solution to insult. Tell me now, when would you ever accept this type
of behaviour or even excuses from a patient? TELL ME NOW THAT ABUSE
IS EXCUSABLE," she shouted gesturing emphatically, "OR SO HELP ME I'LL
WALK OUT THAT DOOR AND I WILL SHOW YOU EXACTLY WHAT I AM CAPABLE OF."
She roared at Branwen, "BECAUSE NO ONE, AND I MEAN *NO ONE* HAS THE
RIGHT TO HIT THEIR SPOUSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Dhani was shaking
with rage. The stupidity of Bran, the ignorance, the excuses, all of
it whirled in her head and the only thing she wanted to do was find
that son-of-a-bitch and make him pay. She warned him what she would
do. And the shmuck just had to call it. Prick!

Bran flinched at the fury before her the shouting and the violent
gestures. She was unsure of herself and still on pain medication
after the injuries. Involuntary she put her hands in front of her
face to protect herself if Dhani decided to hit her. That was what
people did after all when they got angry with her.

The reaction brought Dhani back down to the deck plates just as if she
had been sucker-punched. In an instant the fire beneath her rage went
out, the pot left to simmer and she was left to gawk at herself. For
a moment she just stood there like a discarded puppet bouncing on its
strings. "Bran?" she called out in a haggard whisper. Kneeling down
in front of Bran she carefully pealed the woman's fingers from her
face and gently pulled her stiff body into an embrace.

"I'm sorry." A confused Branwen said. "I seem to be doing everything
wrong lately. And my head hurts still. A few days ago I thought I
was the happiest woman on the ship, and now everything is coming
crashing down around my ears. I don't understand." She whispered
again.

Dhanishta smiled softly, reaching up she smoothed Brans hair and
cupped her cheek, "Bran you did nothing wrong." she told her
sincerely, "You are not responsible for Man'darrs actions." She
sighed gently and pushed back down the tears that welled, "You deserve
so much more." she told Bran sucking in her lips in an attempt to
stall the itching of her nose and the stinging in her eyes. "He lost
control, that is not your fault. If he can't control himself then he
is no good to you, the marine core or the mission. Branwen why do you
continue to punish yourself for the actions of others?" Dhani
implored.

"Sorry?" She said. "I don't. I don't take any crap from my marines
or my patients. But I am his wife it is my duty to support his career
and be there for him. That was in my vows remember, and I take those
very seriously."

"I don't think 'punch bag' was in your vows Bran." Dhani replied gently.

"He won't do it again." She said. "You should have seen him, Dhani, he
was so sorry. And I will make him see a counsellor, this time he
cannot refuse. He does have a little bit of an anger issue." Bran
admitted.

Dhani shook her head. "This is not the first time that he has got
angry with someone." Dhani told her, "And this won't be the last time
that he lashes out. He almost went for me the other day in his
office."

Bran blinked. "You?" She looked at Dhani. "Why would Dar go after you?
That doesn't make sense at all, I thought you hardly knew him?"

Dhani took in a deep breath, oh boy was that the worst thing to bring
up. She shrugged, "You said he was a good man and that if I got to
know him I would see that too." she gave Bran a lopsided smile, "I
tried." she stated glumly. "We got into an argument and he?" she
paused wondering how best to say what happened. "He threw his desk
against the wall and came at me. He didn't hurt me, didn't even lay a
finger on me, but he wanted to, and if I had stayed, he would have."
she tapped her temple as if it were evidence.

"You... you can't be sure...." She looked at the ground. "Dar has had
a tough time lately. There is something on his mind. I have been
trying to get him to counselling for a while now. The colonel did not
support it, so I could not order it, and I wasn't sure. But his
temper is a bit short. But he would never have hurt you, Dhani. I am
sure of it. Dar is a good man."

"And that's why he gave you a concussion and a broken wrist?" Dhani asked.

"He has problems, Dhani, and I as his wife should have understood and
supported him. It was my mistake. As a psychologist I also knew that
something was bugging him, so I am doubly to blame."

Dhani shook her head again, "No Branwen, you are not to blame. I told
him that I thought he was insincere I practically told him he was a
liar. He didn't hit me. He says that he loves you but then he hurts
you. Branwen that is not love. Don't you see?" she questioned
standing up, "he is just like your father. You do or say something
that he doesn't like and he hits first and asks questions later. Bran
you have had that your whole life, and you know it's not right. You
know as a counsellor and as the victim that that behaviour is not
tolerable and yet you are still making excuses for him. The Colonel
has the right idea. He should be locked up. Why are you still
letting this happen Bran? You are a good person and you don't deserve
to be treated this way." Dhani choked on her own tears. Turning from
Branwen she tried to hide her emotions.

"Branwen you need to let go of your past." she said coming to face her
again after a moment's pause, "you need counselling much more than he
does. And you needed it like yesterday. You think that you have come
a long way since you were a fourteen year old runaway, but by letting
this continue you are right back to where you started."

"Oh Dhani." Bran saw her friend's tears and she came closer again and
opened her arms, hoping Dhani would let her hold her. "It's okay, hon.
I have it under control. The next time I will hit back. But you have
got to understand that my dad loves me very much. He punished me to
save my soul. I cannot live with my family because I do not believe
in it, and I want to see the world. But never doubt that my parents
love me very much and are praying for my soul every day. They are not
monsters." She said gently. "And I am generally a very happy person.
I have made a career for myself. And hopefully we can save Dar's
career. After he has learnt to control himself everything will be
alright. It's okay, Dhani, honey." Bran finished gently. Was this
what it took to let Dhani reach her own feelings? Somehow it was
beautiful to watch her friend cry.

Dhanishta stood in the embrace yet did not reciprocate. She heard
Branwens words, yet was not comforted by them. "There won't be a next
time." she assured Branwen in a cold voice. Stepping back from Bran
she looked into the woman's eyes. "I know what control means. I
struggle with it every damned day of my life." she told her flatly, "I
know what it feels like to hurt another person, and I can assure you
that it has nothing to do with love, or the want to save another's
soul. It may make you sleep easier, to be able to put that pretty
label on it; it may help you to understand what drives another person
to abhorrent acts. But believe me when I tell you that this has
nothing to do with love or loss of self control. I knew?" Dhani
stumbled on her words and corrected her self quickly, "'he' knew what
he was doing. And trust me when I tell you that he will never do it
again."

She turned from Bran, leaving her startled and uncertain, and marched
straight to the door. Man'darr needed to be taught a lesson that no
one on this ship could teach him, except her; what it really meant to
loose control, after all she had promised him that to begin with.

Branwen tried to get her own emotions under control, and to say
something back to Dhani about how she was wrong. But by the time she
got something of an answer together, her friend had already left. And
Branwen could not go after her being placed under house arrest.

OOC - Slight back post, pt three will be on it's way soon, thanks for
all your patience.

"The Finger of Suspicion Points Two Ways?" Part 2

Captain Darren M'Kantu
Chief Engineer Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe

***USS Galaxy, Bridge, Captains Ready Room***

Dhanishta frowned and stared at her Captain as if it was the first
time she had ever met him and he had salad dressing all over his face
or something. Her lip curled up into a slightly disgusted snarl.
"Sir?" she began thinking about choosing her words diplomatically, "if
this woman has knowledge of the things to come, there is a rather
large possibility that she has every access code of every crew member
on this ship, I don't mean to speak out of place Sir, but your
attitude is really rather relaxed over this. I don't think I need to
reminded you that Brianna O'Shea was a clone, no one suspected that
she was, you have evidence in your hand suggesting that there is an
infiltrator on this ship and your frankly too blas? about it."
Diplomacy left the room after her first sentence!

"Yes, she could have anyone's access codes, Lieutenant. She could
know everything that we are going to do and face for every mission
between now and whenever she's from. She might know everything about
every crew member aboard the Galaxy down to our genetic sequencing.
All of that and more are possible. But none of those interest me
nearly as much as one simple question: Why is she here? Not every
visitor from the future is an enemy, after all. Some are observers.
Some are researchers. And some are... well... tourists. Aside from
the obvious - notify the Temporal Investigations authorities -
whatever response that we make to her presence needs to take into
consideration some form of understanding as to why she's here...
except that we don't know why. If we treat her as an enemy and go
charging in to restrain her, even if she is an enemy, we run the risk
of provoking the exact sort of incident that you're afraid of, perhaps
even on a scale that will affect the entire galaxy depending on her
reasons for being here. So if you feel I'm a bit too relaxed,
consider this: I have to weigh any response not just against the fate
and future of the ship and her crew... but potentially against that of
the Federation as a whole as well. Which, I'm certain you will agree,
is not something to be done rashly, is it?"

Dhanishta shook her head slowly, "No Sir," she replied quietly as a
frown crossed her face. For a moment she had considered truth in the
words of Proctor. As she sat before M'Kantu, a man who's reputation
and decisions she had supported and defended several times over, his
calm and undaunted demeanor about this potential threat had her
marching (in her mind) to the tune of the Hawk political party. As
she spoke her mind, she was envisioning the worst outcome, she was
envisioning the media hype and the interviews/interrogations that
might follow such a foul up of judgment, and this time, when she was
asked if she agreed with M'Kantu's handling of the situation she would
have had to have said 'no'. But then he had said that, and once more
her faith in him was reaffirmed, yet?

"Sir..?" Dhanishta mumbled, the frown still on her face. Searching
the space between them with her eyes for something she could not even
define she resigned and looked up into his eyes. For a time she was
silent. The silence extending to a point of unfamiliarity, and then
abruptly she stood up. "I'm sorry Sir." she said sliding her chair
back into the position it had been in before she had sat down. "I
er?"

Dhanishta wasn't even sure how to finish that sentence. It would
involve too much explaining and she didn't think she had it in her.
She couldn't believe that even for one moment she had doubted him.
After all this time she had decided in one split second that he was
wrong, that he was leading them all down the rabbit hole into a
darkness that they couldn't escape. In that moment of uncertainty she
had crossed the line in her mind from sitting on the fence to willing
joining the pro-Hawk camp. And she had been wrong. She hadn't
thought it through with the maturity, experience and wisdom that he
had? she shook her head feeling a sudden rush of guilt come over her
and the desire to leave his presence as quickly as possible.

Without even waiting to be dismissed, totally forgetting etiquette and
decorum, she walked towards the door completely preoccupied with her
inner monologue of Hawks verses Dove and questioning if she should
ever pick a side, or if she should ever divulge to her Captain that
politics would be the next battle he would have to mediate, yet it
wouldn't be out there amongst the stars, but in here on his own ship.
In her mind she paused in step, casting a backwards glance to M'Kantu,
that very sentence on the tip of her tongue, in reality she was
reaching out to depress the button to open the door staring down at
her feet as if the case was being drawn up on the floor before her.

"Lieutenant?" The Captain's voice spoke up, his tone firm but not
hostile. "As a general rule, most senior officers you will encounter
in Starfleet will tend to feel that junior officers getting up and
walking out of conversations in the middle of a word are performing an
act of insolence. Since I don't happen to feel that's the case here -
to be truthful, I'd expect you to just be insolent to my face if that
was what was on your mind - why don't you come back, have a seat, and
let's try this again, shall we?"

Dhanishta balked, her hand hovering in mid air. Her face flushed
fully and for a moment she just stood routed to the spot wishing that
she could just dissipate into thin air. Lowering her head even more
than it already was she pivoted on the ball of her foot, turning to
face M'Kantu. But she didn't move from that spot. Sucking in her
lips she felt about as small as the dust specks that littered her
polished boots.

"I am 'so' sorry Sir, I just wasn't thinking?" she trailed some.
Truth was that she was thinking, far too much about a whole host of
things, none of which she felt she could talk to him about without
first clarifying them for herself.

"I suspect it's more that you *were* thinking, Lieutenant," Daren
replied gently. "And if you'd rather not talk about whatever it is
that's on your mind, that's all right; we've still got a problem we
need to deal with... so," he waved to the chairs again, "if you would,
please?"

Dhanishta stepped forward tentatively processing her thoughts as she
did. Her frown remained as she reclaimed the chair and slowly sunk
into it. "I'm truly sorry, it's just?" she paused for a moment
wondering just how candid she should be with her Captain. In the past
Dhanishta's blunt honestly had been one of her qualities that she had
been renowned and respected for. However, back then it had been
coupled with an emotionless demeanor and palpable Vulcan logic. But
now the Vulcan logic had been replaced with uncontrolled emotional
outbursts and foot in mouth syndrome. Not the best combination in the
galaxy!

Sighing she rolled her eyes and got to the point, "I have been
receiving a lot of propaganda material of late," she began, "most of
it is totally inaccurate. The media can spin an angle on any event to
convey what they wish the populous to believe. But there have been a
few articles that caught my eye, and while I know that I should take a
huge chunk of pickle when I read them, they have hit a chord with me."
She looked back up at him, searching his expression to see if he was
following, "Take the battle of Havras for example," she added
helpfully to clarify, "we were sent in as a diplomatic envoy. The
mission was for peace talks and we ended up being baited into a full
scale conflict." She studied him once more, staring hard as if she
did that she might see the cogs moving in M'Kantu's brain.

"A succinct description of what happened," Daren agreed. "I am led to
presume that the material you've been exposed to has something to say
about that?"

Dhani nodded, "Yes, and none of it's particularly? flattering." she
informed him with a look that said 'flattering' was the nicest way of
saying that the tabloids were slandering his good name and
aggressively questioning every decision that he had ever made.

"Not unexpected," he nodded. "Hindsight is the only truly exact
science, and there seem to be a never-ending supply of practitioners
of that particular discipline, who all think they would have done
better. Second-guessing is for armchair warriors and politicians,
Lieutenant. You and I, we're neither of those things, are we?"

"No Sir," Dhani responded, "but I would be remiss if I didn't
acknowledge the fact that for a moment I thought their assessments
correct." Dhani wasn't the type to worry about on-the-record versus
off-the-record, if the Captain was to be offended by what she said, it
made no difference.

"Now see," Daren said with the ghost of a smile. "I knew I was right
about you." He picked up a mug, took a drink from his coffee, set it
down, and continued, "Tell me, is all of this material coming through
standard channels?"

Dhani raised an eyebrow at his comment but dealt with the question
first, "Yes, I think so," she answered trying to recall if the
messages had been personalized or not, "I'll have to check." she said
pausing pensively. Taking a breath she lent forward slightly, "Right
about what Sir?" she asked curiously.

TBC?

"Miss Magic" - Prologue

Starring...

TSG Jos Lorran, Tactical Flight Controller, SFFC 144th Vanguard Squadron [NPC: M. Miller]
TSG Orani Bes, Tactical Flight Controller, SFFC 144th Vanguard Squadron [NPC: M. Miller]

* * * * *

STARDATE 61978.1

TACTICAL FLIGHT CONTROL CENTER (TACFLTCON)
DECK 39: HIGH BAY CONTROL CENTER, USS GALAXY (NCC-70637)

For all intents and purposes, it is nighttime aboard Starship Galaxy. Technical Sergeant Jos Lorran, having nothing else pressing to do just now, glances at the holochron above his control console: 23:37:49. Guesstimating, Sergeant Jos (he is Bajoran--no one ever gets the first-name-is-last thing down quite correctly) relishes that in less than 23 minutes, he will be free of this duty-shift.

"Thank the Prophets," he mutters--barely--under his breath. Though it's relatively quiet now, it had been pure (organized) chaos not 40 minutes ago as the last wave of shuttles and transport corvettes disgorged their refugees from Epsilon Vered. (Lorran, being a Bajoran, naturally has a particular distaste for the word "refugees.")

Sergeant Jos (a.k.a. Tactical Flight Controller Jos) usually doesn't mind the duties assigned to him in TacFltCon (as with any military based *thing*, it is a sloppy-sounding acronym pronounced "tack-flight-con," or TFC--why say the whole thing when you can make a jewel like this?). Tactical Flight Controller Jos usually enjoys the expansive view the regimented banks of transluminum provide of the High Bay below. Tactical Flight Controller Jos even *usually* enjoys the hushed pattering of voices floating around him as other TacFltCons direct flights of Vanguards to and from the Galaxy's massive lower-decks hanger. But this mission is anything from usual. If the Bajoran language had the human equivalent of "shit-storm" in its lexicon, he'd describe it as such.

But, like a good little SFFC fly-boy, he keeps his mouth shut, his head down, and his eyes fastened to his workstation. Actually, it isn't much different from his usual demeanor in most respects. But his co-workers--the other TacFltCons--notice the difference. Especially Orani Bes, the (demure) doe-eyed Trill who's station is next to his.

"What's wrong, Lorran?" Orani asks.

Like most non-coms working professional close-quarters, TFCs Jos and Bes have taken to addressing each other informally, by first name (or in Jos's case, last name--damn, there's that sticky Bajoran-name-thing again). It's nice for the fact that whenever one addresses the other in such manner, it is a switch--a signal--that they are now talking "off the record." Anything to deal with TacFltCon'ing would necessitate Titles: *Sergeant* Jos; *Sergeant* Bes. That is the other switch: work is to be done.

"Lorran?" she prompts again, glancing sideways at him as she swivels her chair, and her perfectly-proportioned (Jos's opinion) upper torso in turn.

Jos Lorran stares back blankly at her, vaguely reminding Orani of the Teegha ungulates her family raises back on Trillax. The big beasts will just stand there on their impossibly spindly legs with their impossibly tiny heads mounted on their impossibly gargantuan segmented bodies staring at you, chewing their cuds of Yipgrass: Big, glassy orange eyes just looking at you with no comprehension of what you intend.

This is the look Jos Lorran has now, and it causes Orani to blush (demurely). She, of course, knows what this means, even if Lorran hasn't comprehended it for himself (as most males are slow to do, regardless of their species): He has a Crush on her.

Orani giggles (demurely).

'Hey, Jos, wake up!' his brain yells (not so demurely). When that doesn't work (as he is still doing the believable Teegha impression), his brain pulls out a hyperspanner and starts beating nerve-endings like a Klingon warrior attacking a Bolian vibraphone: 'Wake up, you dolt! Doe Eyes is talking to you!'

"Huh?" his vocal chords involuntarily splat.

"Lorran, why are you acting so...strange, huh?" Orani asks, her blush diminishing now over her creamy skin. "You've been out to La-La Land ever since the last convoy arrived. You feeling alright?" she solicits while surreptitiously making a check over her control board. She can't help it; it's her mother in her, nosing about in other people's business.

"Uhh...sorry, 'Rani," he finally croaks out, finding his voice and wits at (approximately) the same time. "I guess I've just been...preoccupied with stuff, lately," he tries explaining, albeit lamely.

"Oh," she replies, quietly, thinking that the subtext reads Preoccupied With Another Girl. See, she has put Jos Lorran on the Friends list (or, at least, that's what she keeps telling her girlfriends--who all titter and giggle every time the certain Subject comes up) right now--She hears in his voice that maybe he doesn't really want to talk about it...whatever *it* is.

Her guess is right.

Jos, on the other hand, is only vaguely aware that he is on the Friends rung of The Ladder that all females, regardless of species, categorize male-friends. He is not aware, however, that Orani Bes (who has been *very* lonely since she left Trillax after shore leave 9 months ago) is *very* willing to move him up a rung. Maybe even two. Perhaps, even, to one of the upper levels: one of the male-hallowed Benefits rungs. Too bad he's so preoccupied with the whole evacuation thing, right now, that he's not picking up on any of the hints--and hasn't--for the past week.

Some time passes silently between them, maybe 7 or 8 minutes, before Orani breaks in again.

"So," she peeps quietly, her brown eyes fixed solidly on the scope in front of her, lest she betray herself by looking into Jos's (impossibly cute) stormy-gray gaze and at that (impossibly cute) Bajoran crinkle-nose. "We're off in, like--" she now looks up at the holochron: 23:52:43--"about six minutes. I, uh...was wondering, you know, if you didn't have anything to--"

["TACFLT, FIDO."] A comm interrupts just as Orani is stumbling through her hasty invitation for an after-work nightcap (and maybe more, she had hoped).

'Frak,' she curses to herself.

"FIDO, TACFLT," Lorran reflexively jumps to respond, immediately going into TFC mode. Orani reluctantly follows as well by putting her earciever back in. The comm, itself, is originating from the Galaxy's FIDO: Flight Intercept Direction Officer. He or she is the general flight control officer responsible for all the movement (and security) of any and all vehicles (TFCs *never* refer to ships, shuttlecraft, or other self-propelled craft as "vessels"; they are *always* "vehicles," in order to lessen any confusion between controllers) within the Starship Galaxy's Flight Intercept Zone (again with the acronyms and their funny-sounding pronunciations, in this case, the "fizz."): A 3-dimensional X-Y-Z coordinate sphere of normal space in which an incoming vehicle is categorized as either Friend or Foe, and handled as such.

["TACFLT, advise intercept accept of Starfleet 307 Heavy. Designate USS Cripple Creek, 74763, Danube type. Advise squawk 2076-Zed for High Bay final, over."] In translation, the FIDO has succinctly informed TFC Lorran that he is being "handed" control of a vehicle that has a Flight Plan Designator of Starfleet 307 (Heavy): A Starfleet (as opposed to a private or commercial) flight, numbered 307, and currently "heavy"--laden with passengers, supplies, or both. Furthermore, it is a registered Starship, the USS Cripple Creek, number NCC-74763 (unless it's one of the rarer prefixes--"NCL," "NX," etc.--TFCs don't bother sounding-out the registry prefix; it wastes precious time), and it is a Danube-type Runabout. Lastly, FIDO has informed them of an open Transponder Communications Matrix Code (TCMC, called the "tack-mack") preassigned to the incoming vehicle, and that said vehicle has requested to approach the Tactical High Bay for its final landing route.

Why 307 Heavy has requested the High Bay is of no real consequence to either Jos or Bes, although this is something that FIDO could have easily handed over to OpFltCon--Operational Flight Control, the Galaxy's *own* shuttlecraft traffic control center--but didn't. It could be a number of reasons, really: Shuttlebay 1 may be too busy or full (a distinct possibility with the large refugee transport operation underway), and Shuttlebays 2 and 3 are simply too small for a Danube-type runabout. Or, the load may be Starfighter- or Marine-related (in which case, the vehicle is automatically routed to the High Bay, since that's where both units operate from) *Or*, the load and/or passenger(s) may be designated as either Hazardous or High Security (or both), in which case the High Bay is a better-equipped place to deal with them.

Lorran processes all of this, his fingers tapping out well-practiced commands into his console as his mind chews on the incoming data stream: distance, range, elevation, velocity, designator ID, tack-mack frequencies, load and passenger manifests--so-on and so-forth.

"FIDO, we accept 307 Heavy on 2076-Zed. TACFLT out," he replies professionally, ending the conversation with Flight Intercept Control and automatically accepting control responsibility of 307 (Heavy).

Orani, beside him, has already (and professionally) opened a Hailing channel to the incoming vehicle: "Starfleet Three-Zero-Seven Heavy, this is Galaxy Tactical Flight Control Center. Confirm tack-mack of two-zero-seven-six-zed and activate AGL lock-on," she speaks calmly and clearly.

["TACFLT, this is 307 Heavy squawking 2076-Zed, confirming AGL lock activation...mark."] the disembodied voice of the pilot replies in both Lorran's and Orani's earcievers. As the pilot says "mark," the USS Cripple Creek and the USS Galaxy computers begin speaking with each other on a secure channel, sharing vital (yet mundane) information that will allow the Cripple Creek to execute an Automated Guidance Landing, or AGL. Now the Creek's pilot need only sit back and let his ship and the Galaxy's control computers do the rest of the work.

"Roger, Cripple Creek," Orani responds, glancing over to Lorran who, in turn, gives her a little thumbs-up and a small smile: we did good. She smiles back at him, before finishing her response: "Enjoy the ride, and welcome to the Galaxy."

As she removes her earciever, Orani Bes turns back to Jos Lorran, smiles, points to the holochron (00:01:18, over their shift!) and asks him to join her for a cup of Raktajino.

* * * * *

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Counseling the Aggravated" Part One

Argrata Kaul - Colony Leader - Gamma Vereed III
Knute 'King' Simpson - Director of Mining Operations - Gamma Vered IVc
(Brass Monkey) - (Trevor)
Arlin Lenst, Public Relations Administrator, Lambda Vered I
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO - USS Galaxy
Fala Aesino - Councilor, New B'Hala Colony, Gamma Vered II (Kat)

Location: Gamma Vereed III - Administrative Building

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

The familiar window was gone. In it's place rested the ominous screen that
had been set up in preparation of 'the meeting'. As Argrata sipped her
black pearl tea, her mind floated to what exactly she was going to say in a
time like this. Public speaking in mixed company with heated opinions never
did bode well for the energy that was contained in an area.

This conference room, with it's egg shelled hued walls, stale regulation
seating and worn oblong table had seen enough in it's own time to instantly
tense it's walls. Rightfully so...for this meeting would be the mother of
all discussions.

Her fingers ran along the table's smooth surface, instinctively reaching out
to straighten one of the water pictures that was off center in her humble
opinion. The hour had approached that could change the present that she
knew and place a certainty upon her future that she knew she would not like.

"Ma'am. They are arriving........"

"Show them in please........."

Outside the hall, an odd group assembled. People from various species,
wearing a colorful range of attires and carrying signposts. They all had one
and only one thing in common. All of them were wearing orange ribbons.

Each arriving representative was greeted with shouts, waves and catcalls,
passionately demanding him or her to disagree with the evacuation and join
the protest outside instead.

In the middle of the demonstrators, Vincent and Adi Ben Atar stood smiling,
surrounded by their eight children. All of them were wearing orange shirts
with the caption 'Vered Cluster - my home!' printed on the front.

Adi had to take a few days off from the mining operation at Epsilon to come
to Gamma Vered III, but what were a few tons of unmined ores when compared
to their homes? She looked around with pride - it seems that she was not the
only one with the right priorities. United, the cluster will not fall.

Amongst the arrivals was Arlin Lenst, along with a very small entourage.
They nodded to all the other arrivals, some of whom cast curious glances at
them. No doubt they've heard of Adiana's unfortunate...passing.

They all wore the orange band around their left arms to display their unity
with the other colonies. However, they were there only as a part of the
Council. Their own interests were what was at issue. If the other colonies
also chose to stand their ground, great. However, Lambda Vered I was much
too valuable to simply walk away from. Arlin knew this well, and decided to
simply listen as instructed by Mr. Takashi, speaking only to repeat the only
point they were interested in making: They were staying, no matter what.

Knute Simpson pinched his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few
seconds, he was just dog bone tired. Thirty seven hours with out sleep -
phhhht, ten years ago, that would have been nothing, but today...he shook
his head. The preparations for the defence of Brass Monkey and the meetings
with B'han were taking their toll.

The skiff from his ship landed on the platform on the main colony
councilbuilding. As the door swung up and open, he threw a small blue
cone into
the garbage receptacle on the skiff. He shook his head as he could feel the
contents from the cone feel cool in his veins. Soon, he'd be wide awake -
but he know that in about a day - the credit he'd ask for in being awake for
so long, his body would expect back and it would want interest.

Knute was a large man, not fat, but he could have been used as a poster for
the miners of Brass Monkey. The suit he was wearing was rumpled and a
little ill fitting. As he stood out from the skiff, he put on his
sunglasses and headed across the large grounds towards the building.

While inside of him, he still raged at the idea of the Feds coming in and
ruining his life, he knew that if he could get the council to not ratify it,
to not capitulate, they could get the Feds to dance to their tune. If every
council member would say no as a unified front -what would the Feds do?
Start using force?

Knute snorted, probably, but that would be political suicide for them - but
he had made his decision and the only way that he'd leave Brass Monkey is in
the body bag.

Quickly perusing the padd in front of him, it had the basic rundown on all
of the colony leaders, their wives/husbands/kids/pets. He'd been in the
bureaucracy system long enough to do the politician thing. Sometimes a good
word got more response than a loud yell, but at other times...

As he arrived outside of the main meeting area, he put on his best 'smile'
to greet the 'old stupid bitch.' If he could change her mind, the rest
would be very easy.

Just before he moved through the door, he slid the orange band up the top of
his arm, to make sure the image of solidarity.

And behind him, hidden almost entirely in the large shadow he cast on the
ground, followed a slight woman wrapped almost head to toe in dark fabrics.
The deep hood of her strange attire framed a solemn face that clearly
indicated the woman's Cardassian heritage. Although, upon closer
examination, the slight peach tint to her skin coupled with the horizontal
ridges on her nose revealed that she was perhaps only half Cardassian. And
unlike most of the other assembled, there was no hint of orange color
anywhere on her person.

Eyes constantly scanning the other representatives and the crowd beyond, the
woman continued to move parallel to Simpson, the soft rustling of her skirts
the only sound coming from her direction as she slipped inside the building.

Outside, Kimberly had watched the crowd gather and mingle for a little
while, nervous. Why oh why had she decided that coming here was a good
idea. From the snippets she had overheard at a distance, and from the
flashes of orange that everyone was displaying, this looked to be one
meeting where everyone was in agreement before the meeting started.

Glad she hadn't worn her dress whites she smoothed the pleats in her duty
skirt and stepped away from the building that had shadowed her presence,
then walked purposefully toward the council building. As she walked she
tapped her comm. badge for reassurance and checked her link with her shuttle
in orbit was open. If the worst came to the worst, an undignified beam out
was preferable to being pelted with rotten fruit again.

Ignoring the looks directed her way and the comments that followed then she
reached the door to the admin building without incident or the offerings of
fruit and vegetables that she had feared. "Lieutenant Kimberly Burton from
the USS Galaxy," she announced herself politely as she entered.

Briefcase clasped tightly in her left hand, Zamora outwardly was the rock
cemented against the tide of commotion as she walked with purpose behind the
other officer from the Galaxy. Her face was locked solid, plastered with
that infamous 'let's get this started' attitude that shined like a beacon
through the Starfleet and colonists alike that were present. The light
scent of orchid swirled around her, offering it's scent as an attempt at
relaxing those in her immediate presence. Her eyes scanned the area,
mentally picking out those that could potentially cause a problem legally or
likewise.

She was flanked by two security officers that doubled as diplomats in
training. Her Cabana boys stood directly behind her instantly as she stood
still. Security in a time such as this was required, however, disguised as
liaison department officers, the stares somewhat eased until the gazes fell
to the hips of her enterouge where phasers stuck out like sore thumbs. It
was this part, the entrance that screamed that she was an attorney that gave
her an instant sick pleasure. "Lt. Ophelia Zamora.....Chief Liason officer
of the USS Galaxy."

Argrata urged the Starfleet officers in, attempting to hide the rolling of
her eyes at the titles they presented themselves with. Her orange band
rested not around her arm, but in her fingers. Her index finger tapped
lightly against the surface of the signal of the united colonists. Her eyes
darted back and forth between the two groups as her mind battled to make
it's choice. Starfleet....colonists...Starfleet....colonists. Eyes bore
into the hand that held the wristband. Clearing her throat, with decision
made, Kaul walked around to the head of the oblong table.

Silence drifted quickly into the area. "Gentleman....Ladies....." Nodding
in a most dignified manner, she sat. Her aged eyes followed her arm to her
hand that held the decision. Looking upwards and directly at those around
her, her fingers relaxed. A soft, almost non resistant tap was heard as the
wrist band hit the table. It's abandonment screamed her choice...her
alliance with the fleet instead of her people.

"Well, it seems you've made a choice, Kaul. So no pleasantries, eh? For our
esteemed guests from the U S S Galaxy, I am Knute Simpson -Director of
Mining Operations for Brass Monkey. Alright then - what proof has Starfleet
got to move the population of the cluster that the Hydrans are even looking
this way. They haven't said 'boo,' in the last...they haven't said 'boo'
ever, diddly squat to this cluster. The Dreyshans have caused more trouble,
but you Feds didn't think it important then."

Knute stood up, "What is the time frame for returning? What plans have you
got to make sure all of our infrastructure isn't used by the Dreyshans or
the Hydrans? Where are you going to be taking the nine thousand, eight
hundred and forty seven people who live on this cluster? Have you jobs,
housing? What is the plan for supporting them in a years time or two years
time or ten years time? What about compensation? Loss of income, loss of
property? I'm not going to roll over because some over-paid clerk in some
building on the inner planets says I should. You want me to leave here,
leave nearly forty years of my life, leave everything I've put my soul into.
We'll it better be convincing and with legal binding guarantees! I've seen
the results of similar style mass evacuations, and the support of those
people afterwards is non-existant."

Knute looked directly at Zamora, "And what will you do if we decide that we
don't want to leave?" He glanced at her bully boys, behind her, "Nice guns.
They useful or just pretty?"

"We have been authorized to use force if need be." Ophelia responded with a
soft professional growl to her voice. Her eyes shifted from his gaze to the
phasers, then back up to lock onto his stare. "They are pretty, and they
work."

"Enough!" Kaul spat in a very non diplomatic manner. "Knute, your
questions are valid and do deserve answers." Turning her back to the group,
she pressed a button on the console.

~ Barely enough time to get a chair, that has to be a record! ~ Kimberly
mused silently. That the colonists were angry was understandable, that they
wanted to stay, or at least be presented with concrete proof that there was
a clear and present danger was also understandable. That the conversation
had turned so swiftly to the discussion of force though disturbed her. A
somewhat more moderate response to the weaponry comment might have gone down
a little better.

"While force may have been authorized," Kimberly said as she stood, "I would
hope that we can all agree at least that it should not come to that. Ever.
We are here to discuss what happens next," she said as reasonably as she
could, looking around the room as she did. "We will try and answer all your
questions as best we can I assure you."

Arlin rubbed the spots running along the side of his face. It was all the
Betazoid could do to hide his amusement at that...Zamora, he believed she
introduced herself as. It was fairly bold of her to say right off the bat
that Starfleet would use force if necessary. Good, he thought. Let's get it
all out in the open now.

"I would submit to you that force would be rather ill advised on your part,
young lady," he replied aloud.

Knute silently growled, 'Don't belabour the point Lenst, just shut the fuck
up,' he thought to himself. He lent over, and grabbed the jug of water and
poured it into a glass, "Let our guests explain their plan?" he said as he
leaned back into his chair and took a sip.

Lenst glanced over at Knute and smiled. I'll deal with you later, he
promised silently. He never liked Knute, thought of him as uncivilized and
suited more for the role of a deep subterranean miner than a 'Director' of
mining ops.

Looking to Zamora Kimberly nodded to her as she sat again, the Lieutenant
was after all the Liason officer so this was her area, she was really only
here... ~ Why the Frell 'am' I here? ~ She wondered. She had come down for
a town meeting to discuss the evacuation, she hadn't really expected this.
Though to be honest she wasn't sure 'what' she had expected. Part of the
briefing memo she had read had mentioned evacuation of the colonies medical
facilities and dealing with any patients currently under care, and that
really was all she had prepared for, not a discussion of forcing anyone to
go anywhere.

~ Don't these people know anything about what happened on Romulus? ~ She
wondered. The aftermath of that had not been the most pleasant of places,
and though the Dreshayans were the major threat here, she doubted that the
end result here would be any more pleasant to deal with if he worst
happened.

Near the opposite end of the table, the woman who had clothed herself in all
black stood, slowly pulling back the hood of her garment. Before she had
almost disappeared into the background, but now it seemed she was
deliberately revealing herself to the assembled. Her expression was serious,
almost stern, though that did little to diminish her beauty. The folds of
her robe concealed most everything else, although the way she carried
herself spoke volumes to anyone who knew how to listen.

Placing her hands on the table she looked at each person in turn, instantly
sizing up their weak spots. In her conscious mind she doubted such
information would come in handy, but for her, determining the most efficient
ways to kill a person was an instinct she had possessed since childhood.
There was simply no way to shut it off. Her gaze rested for a moment on the
young humanoid woman with the two bodyguards before moving on to the one
with the heterochromic eyes, then moving on again.

"Gentlemen. Ladies," Fala Aesino began, her gaze continuing to roam about
the table. Her voice was soft, words rustling like silk, demanding silence
so that all could hear what she had to say. "These officers from the USS
Galaxy are not here to listen to our bickering and petty threats. I request
that we listen to what they have come to say, weigh it carefully, and then
discuss rationally."

Hearing nothing but soft, mildly disgruntled grumblings in response, Aesino
smiled as she looked back towards Burton and Zamora. The expression was
friendly, yet there was almost something sinister lurking behind it.
"Ladies, please continue," she finished, returning to her chair.

TBC........................

"A Galaxy New Years Special."

The 25th Century........

"Mom?.mom?..mom?..moooooooom?.." Young Allison von Ernst (Age 12) was
excitedly hopping up and down tugging on her mother's sleeve,
"Motherrrrrrr?.I want to go down in the crowd??.you said I could go down in
the crowd??mom??mom??.mom."

Rebecca von Ernst (age 44) shook the hyper-caffeinated girl off her arm and
shot her a warning glance. "Hold your britches young lady?..I told you I'd
inspect the situation first and then decide??.besides they're not gonna
start any sooner just cause you're in a hurry."

Alli rolled her diamond blue eyes sarcastically and pouted. Mother was such
a fuddy-duddy. It was the biggest zarking party of the century and here they
were smack dab in the middle of Times Square New York!

People from across the planet were gathered here??..and getting a better
spot to stand than Allison just because mom was 'inspecting the situation.'

I mean?.could you just die?

The young girl hopped up and down impatiently as mom made sure Alli's coat
was properly zipped up and that the little Panda-Bear earmuffs covered her
adequately.

"Mom?.mom?.mom?.mom??they are so like gonna start without us
motherrrrrrrrr." she drew the last syllable out into a whine of
exasperation.

"Its News Years?..we're gonna miss it."

Rebecca ignored the frantic little girl and continued her inspection.
Allison would run off without her head if it wasn't attached, as
besides??Rebecca's sharp mathematical mind had perfect track of what time it
was and how long it would take her precious little Allison to get lost in
the gathering crowd.

"Okay?.you got your communicator?"

"Yessss?..motherrrrr?" Alli droned patting her pocket.

"And what line are we on?"

"You're on Alpha??Uncle Vic is on Gamma?.and if I cant reach either of you
call Grandma in Minnesota. " Allison was almost bursting with excitement
now??.if she didn't get out in the crowd soon she was gonna like totally
explode.

That's it?..she was gonna explode?..no New Years Party?.just poor exploded
Allison all over the pavement.

Rebecca had no mercy.

"Exactly and if you need help ask one of the park Police??goodness Allison
hold still?..how many fizzy's did you have to drink before we left?"

"Two." Alli bobbed her head innocently, although the truth was closer to
twelve.

Eventually all her mom's fussing came to a close and with a bouncy squeal of
happiness, young Allison scampered off into the milling throng of revelers
that packed the ancient Times Square Intersection.

Times had changed on Earth in the last few hundred years. While Times Square
was still the planetary party central as far as New Years went, the near
universal elimination of crime and violence in society had created a much
safer holiday environment where even a paranoid wreck like Rebecca could
feel relatively safe about turning a 12 year old loose in the crowd.

?.that and the fact that Allison's jacket was lined with a powerful homing
beacon that could be read from orbit??..

After she watched her little blond haired tornado disappear into the
swirling mass of neon lights and excited party-goers, Rebecca heaved a sigh
of relief and turned to her friends who had accompanied her on the shuttle
over from Iceland.

"You look frazzled Red," the grey haired man said with a quiet smile as he
handed her a cup of cocoa. "Why don't you relax a little and try to enjoy
the festivities? It's supposed to be a party after all."

Rebecca von Ernst pushed an errant lock of hair back from her brown eyes and
then took the cocoa. Her long tresses were scarlet as ever, but were now
touched with the beginnings of grey at the hairline.

"S?s?since when am I a party animal Vic?" the ex-captain smiled through her
familiar stutter that reappeared whenever she was nervous ?.as now. "If I
look frazzled it's because I have a 12 year old kid running around in a
crowd of half a million wearing too much lipstick and hyped up on caffeine."

"You never let the Borg or the Hydrans or anyone else get you down like
this," he observed, as the sonic dampeners hummed and readjusted to reduce
the noise from the crowd below again.

"The?B?B?Borg never had children," Rebecca sighed and snuggled deeper into
her winter coat.

The von Ernst's and the Krieghoff's had rented a small open balcony
overlooking the main streets crossing Times Square, and while the adults had
begrudgingly allowed Alli - the oldest of the children with them - to run
free amongst the milling crowds below, they nevertheless kept very good
track of her position with the built in sensors displays designed just for
that purpose.

Even as she sipped some cocoa that Victor handed to her, Rebecca's thin
fingers traced the holographic display highlighting Allison's exact position
with a glowing beacon.

"And a good thing," Victor agreed as he looked out over the crowd, and then
back over his shoulder at the smaller shapes moving around under the
watchful eyes of the other adults. "Considering the damage normal children
can do, can you imagine what a Borg child would be capable of?" He chuckled.
"Allison will be fine, Red. Let her enjoy being a kid for a while."

At the moment the precocious little 12 year old was busily chatting with one
of the mounted Park Police admiring his horse. "So What's your horsey's
name??how old is he?..oops sorry, how old is SHE??.is she a real Police
horsey??can she do any tricks?"

Another good thing about ditching your overprotective mother when you are 12
is that you got to arrange to hang out with all your cool friends alone.

"Ohmuhgawd Shelley!" Alli squealed as one of her girlfriends appeared out of
the crowd, "I thought I would never get away from my mother??did you have a
hard time?"

Young Shelley rolled her own eyes, "Totally girlfriend?.they were all
like?..keep your communicator on??check in every 15 minutes?..blah blah
blah?..like hel-lo?we're 12 already?practically grownup!"

"Exactly." Allison nodded knowingly.

"Ohmuhgawd Shelley??.your outfit is like totally zarked out! How did you
ever think of it?"

"Like wicked Alli," her friend gushed, "and can I say I am totally jealous
of your hair? You are like the ultimate glamour diva Allison?.two snaps for
you!"

The two girls gathered in a huddle giggling and shivering against the cold
air??trying to act mature and grownup, but not really sure what that meant.

High above the Square, the famous New Years ball dangled ominously in the
chill wind.

Bespeckled with holo-lasers and neon lights, the famous drop to midnight was
drawing nearer and the crowd below grew noisier in anticipation.

"New Years!!!! Waaa---hoooooo!" Allis squealed adding her own voice to the
noise. "Lets go 25th Century!!!"

Beside her Shelley could only giggle nervously as she noticed a hot pair of
12 year old boys checking them out.

(Hot being a relative term for a girl her age.)

"Alli-kins?..check it out." She nudged her friend in the ribs. "Cute guys at
4 o'clock scoping us out."

Maintaining her composure, Allison made the pretense of flicking her blond
hair to turn her head and see who her admirers were. "Zark me Shelley." she
explained in a giggle, I know one of those guys from music camp??.his Name's
David and he plays the cello."

"Small universe." her friend mused making her own assessment of the two
boys. They were whispering amongst themselves, each daring the other to be
the first to speak to the girls. "I thought you were done with that
classical music lesson stuff."

Alli rolled her eyes. "No?.mom's still insisting that if I'm gonna play
guitar that it's something peaceful and quiet?..not noisy garbage like my
Dad was into." She shook her head, "Besides you're missing the point here??"

"Which is?"

"H?.h?..hi?.my names is David?.this is Jacob. " interrupted a nervous
pre-adolescent squeak.

Alli cast Shelley an evil wink. "Sweet??.good to meet you??.like don't I
totally know you from Music Camp in Norway last summer?"

The four kids introduced themselves nervously??putting on brave
faces?.acting cool.

It was New Years Eve on the cusp of the 25th Century and they were talking
with boys??..what could be better?

AS if on cue the roar of the crowd grew louder, and the glowing ball of
light shuddered into motion and began its long trek down into the next
century.

"10.?.9.?..8.?.7.??" the crowd chanted while David slipped Allison's hand
into his own.

"6.?.5.?..4.?.3.?.." Alli blushed as tingles shot up her
arm?..~~ohmuhgawdhesholdingmyhand!!!!~~

"3.?.2.??1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

The ball winked out and a huge glowing 2400 appeared blazing in the night
sky!

"Happy New year!" Allison screamed.

"Year 2400!!!!" giggled Shelley

The two boys only grinned.

The four youngsters hugged and congratulated themselves as the crowd around
them hooted and hollered.

It was only when skinny David leaned in with puckered lips that Allison's
eyes grew wide with surprise.

"Ewww?.like hel-lo?.what the zark are you doing laser-brain?"

To his credit the kid didn't miss a beat. "Its New Years Eve." he gestured
around him, "It's like a tradition to smooch somebody at midnight?.or don't
they do that in Iceland?"

Modern contemporary girl that she was, Allison was nevertheless somewhat
sensitive about her rural roots, and stick-in-the-mud mother.

Although she was a s cute as a button, Allison had never actually (gasp)
kissed a boy before.

?.but if it was a tradition???

She glanced around nervously at all the older partygoers smooching away as
Auld Lange sign played, and sure enough??there was young Shelley attempting
her own awkward kiss with David's friend, ears blazing.

That did it.

No way Allison was going back to school in Reykjavik and have Shelley tell
everybody that Allison von Ernst was too much of a baby to act like a grown
up on New Years.

She was twelve dangit!

With her own ears burning in anticipation, Allison puckered up and leaned
towards the boy she had barely met??

"Your mother's looking for you Alli-gator." Victor's voice cut through the
background noise of the roaring crowd like a vibroknife as he placed a
warning hand on Allison's surprised shoulder.

"Uncle Vic?" Allison's voice was a horrified squeak. ~~~Oh please let me
die?.not here?..not in front of my friends.~~

Krieghoff's stern face brooked no argument however. It was a side of him
Allison had never seen before. "Go on back," he jerked his head back toward
the rented balcony. "I need to speak to Casanova Jr here for a moment, and
I'll catch up."

Victor leaned over and spoke quietly to a white-faced David for a moment.
The boy nodded 'yes' once, shook his head 'no' several times, nodded in
agreement once again, and then vanished into the crowd like he'd activated
his warp drive.

"Vic??" Alli collapsed to sit on the curb, completely aghast, "H?.how could
you ?.I was gonna?.he was gonna?..Arrrrgh."

"Not my idea Alli-gator," Victor sat on the curb next to her and threw a
protective arm across her tiny shoulders. "Your mom started dialing up some
orbiting Marines the moment your friend there started puckering up. I
thought it would be less embarrassing this way than to have her nuke the
entire site from space, or yank you out by transporter right before the big
moment."

"She's horrible Uncle Vic." Alli pouted, "She ruins everything??she won't
let me do anything?.Hel-lo?I'm 12 already!!"

"Yes, you are," he agreed. "Which is the problem, I think."

"If Dad were here he'd let me do what I wanted."

Victor thought about that for a moment. "I don't know about letting you do
anything you wanted, but yes, it's likely he'd put fewer restrictions on you
than your mother does."

"I wish he was here and she was gone instead." Allison scrunched her face in
defiance, shuddering slightly against the cold.

"No," Victor's voice was still soft but firm. "No you don't, not really.
That's just the embarrassment talking, Alli-gator. She's a bit difficult at
times, but your mother loves you more than anything else in the universe."

Alli looked up at 'Uncle Vic'. Not strictly a relative, he and his wife and
family had been around the von Ernst family as long as Allison could
remember. "Uncle Vic?..what was my dad like? Really? I can't get mom to talk
about him without her stuttering and 'Uncle Daren' wont bring the subject
up. You knew him??what is he like?"

Victor looked down at her for a moment considering his reply. "Complicated,"
he finally began, shifting so that he was blocking the wind off Alli.
"That's a good way of saying it. James was a good officer, loyal to his men,
dedicated, smart, musically-talented, handsome; all of that, and more. But
that isn't really telling you what you want to know." He thought for a
moment. "Let me tell you a story, all right? Maybe that will help."

Allison bit her lip and nodded. Uncle Vic had always been a straight shooter
when it came to things. Maybe it got annoying at times, but she could always
count on him to tell it like it is.

He nodded. "When I was first assigned to Galaxy I was? different. You've
never seen me like I was back then, but? let's just say I was broken, all
right? I couldn't deal with people because they couldn't stand to be near
me. Just walking in the same room with me was enough to make most people
afraid; so afraid that just talking to them was almost impossible. I'd been
like that since I was born, so I'd never had anyone to really talk to, never
had friends, never had anything or anyone that could stand to touch me
outside of my family and one or two others that I didn't want touching me."
He smiled, remembering. "But your father could talk to me. I still scared
him, he was still afraid ? but he wouldn't let that stop him. Because he was
strong enough to stand there and fight his fears and talk to me, I wasn't
transferred off Galaxy like I'd been all the other ships I served on.
Because he was willing to fight for me, I had the time to find other people
that could talk to me, and once that happened, well, Galaxy became my home."

Allison allowed a small smile. She didn't know what to think about Uncle
Vic's claiming to be scary??he was always the most huggable 'uncle' she had.

Still if he said that was so?..

"My father must be the bravest man in the universe." she murmured almost to
herself. "And someday?..someday I'm gonna go and find him, and everything
will be perfect from then on."

She glanced up at the fireworks overhead. She was a 25th Century girl now.

"Yes?..someday I'll find him."

"Dancing"

Tarin Iniara
Cian?n Tierney

*****
Deck 12
Main Gymnasium

The sound of a body smacking a mat echoed loudly through the gymnasium.

"Ow. Okay, boss, I give up." Vince opened his eyes just in time to
see his commanding officer looming over him, hands on her hips, a
mischievous grin on her face as he studied his prone form.
"Had enough?"

"Yes," he replied emphatically. "Remind me never to try that again."

"It's the only way you'll get better, Vince," she said, offering him a
hand up. "Your enemy doesn't care how well you do on the Starfleet
physical exams. All he wants to know is how hard it will be to kill
or disable you."

"Yeah...I know." Now on his feet, Vince took a moment to rub his
shoulders, trying not to look too sheepish about the fact that a woman
half a foot shorter than him just kicked his ass. "I think I'll go off
and lick my wounds now."

"Trust me, it gets easier." Iniara said, passing him one of the water
bottles from the bench nearby. "See you tomorrow morning?"

"Unless I die between now and then." He winked, stepping gingerly off
the mat and heading towards the locker rooms. "G'night, boss."

"See ya, Vince." Iniara inhaled and exhaled deeply, then grabbed the
remaining water bottle and took a long drink. Three opponents had
come and gone and for some reason she still wanted more. Damned
inconvenient that was. Dropping heavily onto the bench she looked
around the gym, wondering if anyone else in the vicinity might be
ready and willing to help her with that problem.

Cianan was working out frustration. It was one thing on which he could
agree with the Counselor, find an outlet. Ever since the first
encounter with Elessidil when their minds touched the marine couldn't
comprehend the complex emotions that surfaced. It was as though trying
to explain the color blue to someone blind all of his life.

Frankly, Cianan wasn't sure if he was beating the voices from his past
out of his head or trying to find them once again to cover up the
provocative memories burned into his consciousness.

Even with his mind on overload his autonomic systems could easily
continue sparring. It was after all physics. The weight vector of the
throw altered the computer generated opponent's center of mass forward
of his feet. Without needing to aid the throw, the gravitational pull
on the Klingon's center of mass created a torque knocking him off his
feet. To calculate a torque Cianan's mind quickly multiplied two
items: the force acting to bring about a rotation and the lever arm
between the pivot point and the force.

It also occurred faster than a blink. The computer simulation ended up
on the floor and Cianan paused inches from delivering the final blow.

=/\= "End simulation." =/\=

Cianan closed his eyes for one moment as his body readjusted. At the
cellular level his enhanced programming caused alterations during
times of stress. During reconditioning Federation scientists managed
to help Angosians "switch off" the response. At times it had to be
medically suppressed.

With a signature twist of his head, his neck popped releasing tension.
The marine grabbed a towel and some water. He cocked a half smile and
stood at attention. "Commander." Cianan admired the skills of the
Executive Officer as he watched her session.

Iniara raised an eyebrow as she caught notice of the man standing at
attention just outside the perimeter of the sparring area. She didn't
recognize him, which meant he wasn't 'Fleet, and no fighter jock would
ever display such discipline, which could mean only one thing:
Marines. "At ease, soldier," she began, standing and walking across
the mat towards him. "What's your name?"

Cianan relaxed slightly, putting his hands behind his back. At ease
for a soldier was still somewhat like a stick up your ass, only not as
far as when at full attention. "Corporal Cianan Tierney, ma'am." He
once again cocked a half smile.

Well, that explained it, she thought. "Tarin Iniara, ex-oh," she
introduced herself. "But you probably knew that already."

"Yes ma'am. There are countless soldiers on this ship, but only one of
you." Cianan pointed out. The marine moved from his at ease position
to toss his towel into a nearby bin.

She continued to watch the man, trying to figure out why he felt a
little 'off' to her. Then she saw it: the telltale grey and gold mark
decorating his left temple. "You're Angosian," she said, the words
half statement and half question.

The smile disappeared. Ever since the Federation's first encounter
with Angosia there was some bad blood. He experienced some initial
inherent distrust in the marines that had to be overcome before he was
accepted. "And you're Bajoran and Betazoid, ma'am."

"Then you should know why I brought it up," Iniara replied, carefully
studying his body language. "I meant no offense; it's just that you
'read' funny. You know," she tapped a finger on her temple, "up
here."

Iniara shifted her weight to the other foot. "So...what brings you over here?"

"I was impressed with how effectively you dispatched your opponent.
Very skilled, ma'am." Cianan commented, uncomfortable with talking
about his past.

"Thanks. Although it's not so much skill as it is the desire to
dispatch my opponent before he dispatches me," she commented. "And
besides, my yeoman is a bit of a novice. He's come a long way, but
he's still got a long way to go."

Her head cocked to the side as she considered something. "I've been
looking for a bit more of a challenge, though. I don't suppose you'd
like to spar?"

Cianan's smile widened. Iniara's movements were professional, those of
a well trained fighter. The marine was genuinely impressed. He wasn't
one to attempt to impress an Officer with false praise. "I guess
you've never fought an Angosian?"

Iniara grinned, beckoning him forward as she began to bounce lightly
from foot to foot. "First time for everything. So, you up for it?"

"If I find myself washing dishes in the gully when your ass hits the
floor..." The last part of his sentence drifted off as Cianan walked
out onto the mat. He knew he didn't have to say it. The woman seemed
honorable.

Iniara crouched down and danced lightly to her right, studying the
man's movements, looking for any sign of weakness. At the moment
there was none. She knew this super soldier was going to wipe the
floor with her ass, but that didn't matter a bit. As long as she
learned something from this experience, it was time well spent.

"Not a chance, Corporal...the dishes part, I mean. I may be a hardass
but I'm not an asshole!" The last few words were delivered as she
launched herself towards him with surprising quickness, one shoulder
aimed squarely at his midsection, arms on their way to wrapping
themselves securely around his torso in a basic takedown hold.

Cianan was impressed with the Officer's agility, if not her balls for
being willing to go fist to fist with him. The Angosian planted his
feet at the initial contact and then arched his back, taking Iniara's
momentum added with his leveraging. With a loud "thud" both ended up
on their backs on the mat after Iniara was sent vaulting over Cianan's
shoulder and his follow through in a take down. Cianan tightened his
ab muscles and launched himself back to his feet to turn around to see
his opponent had done the same. Cianan assumed she shifted her weight
while in mid-air and buffered some of the fall. An almost evil smile
danced across the soldier's lip.

"Quick!" she breathed, bringing her hands up in a defensive posture.
With one hand she beckoned him forward, mimicking his smile. "Your
turn."

Cianan grinned even wider. "Feisty. Drug induced or just your
personality?" The Angosian teased his opponent as he moved into a
spinning back fist. He rotated his torso so that the initial hit to
Iniara's block was by the back of his right forearm. His momentum spun
back around so that he faced her straight on and jabbed with his left,
looking for tender flesh.

"Perso...nali...ty!" she replied between blocks. He was fast...really
fast, she thought as she did her best to match him move for move.
After several jabs it became clear that she wasn't going to win this
one, so as his arm struck out at her she quickly sidestepped, grabbing
his forearm and using what little momentum he had to launch him into
another takedown.

Cianan tumbled with the takedown, curled into a ball and returned to
his feet. The Commander was good and once again proved that one should
not underestimate an opponent. The Angosian was impressed. Cianan
moved in for a move. His initial takedown was blocked without
hesitation which gave him the opportunity to hug Iniara's midsection.
Holding tightly he lifted his feet up, causing Iniara to take the
stress of his weight. Simultaneously he wrapped his feet around the
back of her legs. With a chopping motion his heal made contact with
her Achilles tendon.

In moments Cianan was laying on top of the Commander. He realized the
position and immediately got up, offering a hand.

Without any hesitation Iniara grabbed his hand, pulling hard. He
teetered forward just a bit and she brought her feet up onto his
abdomen, using the power of her legs to send him flying through the
air over her, then using the momentum to bring herself to her feet.
Her concentration faltered momentarily as she spun about to face him:
he had already recovered and was now coming right back at her.

Damn he was fast.

Cianan slowly moved his head around, sensing any damage as he vaulted.
Nothing was badly bruised. The surprise attack from a Federation
Officer was an interesting twist. His reflexes didn't stop as he was
sent flying in the air. Again, he shifted his body weight and landed
on his feet. He adeptly spun and returned, attempting to make contact
with her leg while simultaneously reaching for her neck to slip up the
back of her head. It was a move he executed frequently in the past.
Attempt to do the takedown with the legs, only to use his opponent's
attention down at his feet to bend the head further down and shifting
her balance.

Iniara saw it coming, but she was already too committed to blocking
his leg movements to do much about anything else. She struggled to
break the hold for a few seconds, but it wasn't long before she felt
him dragging her off balance and back towards the mat.

Cianan's devilish grin returned as he lay on top of the Commander on
the mat. His forearm covered her throat and any pressure would cause
her windpipe to be blocked. Additional pressure could even collapse
it. "Kind of like dancing...only more exciting." The Angosian said.

"Definitely," Iniara responded, her voice strained and harsh from the
pressure being applied to her throat. For several long seconds she
squirmed underneath him, trying to find a weakness in the hold. But
every time she tried to apply the right amount of pressure to get him
off, the tightness on her windpipe would cause dizziness and narrowing
vision.

Over half a minute passed before she finally stopped struggling. She
sighed in defeat, the expression made even more obvious by the
additional weight on her rib cage, before finally whispering, "I
yield."

Cianan's relaxed his arm and rolled off of the Commander. He held out
a hand to help Iniara to her feet. "You've been trained."

"More or less," she replied with a shrug. "Decades of Cardassian
occupation taught nearly all Bajorans how to fight, whether we wanted
to learn or not. Thankfully I had some excellent teachers."

The two walked over to the wall where Cianan grabbed waters and handed
one to the Officer. "Next time we should try actual combat in the
holodeck." Cianan's eyes gave away his interest.

Iniara grinned. "Definitely. I have a feeling I could learn a thing
or seven from you; if you're willing to teach me, that is."

"I think I'd learn from you too." Cianan said with a grin.

TBC?

~Welcome to Paliba'alulu~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Lt. Thyago Carneiro
Ens. Sharzhevashi zh'Rin

***

Thyago and Shi were riding on the back of wheeled surfboard, propelled by
the wind pushing against a large sail, controlled by a shirtless native who
was carrying them to his village. It was a situation they had not been
expecting to find themselves in when they originally beamed down.

They were moving quite fast, surfing over the grass and around rocks and
tall bamboo stalks at well over 60 kph. Too fast for Shi's comfort. As a
pilot, she knew well the hazards of moving at such speeds in such a flimsy
looking, unprotected vessel. One unnoticed rock, or one unseen hole in the
ground catching one of the longboard's wheels and they would be sent flying
forward at literal break-neck speeds. Yet, their pilot, 'Eleu, seemed
comfortable with this and skilled enough that they could hardly feel any
bumps from the ground at all.

In contrast, Thyago, behind her, was having the time of his life - shouting,
laughing, exclaiming in his native Portuguese. Shi hadn't known him for
long, but she knew enough to know that Thyago rarely seemed to know when he
was in danger. Or, maybe he got off on it. She had certainly met enough of
those in piloting school.

But, for as dangerous or thrilling a ride as it was, it seemed to be taking
them no where. There was no village in sight, no settlement or structures
of any kind. Shi looked ahead, shielding her eyes against the wind and
gasped. Not only was there no village or structures ahead of them, there
was also no more land. 'Eleu was driving them straight towards a huge
cliff!

"Uh, penhasco! Penhasco!" Thyago said behind her, urgently, clearly aware
of the upcoming danger. "Cliff! Hey! Hey, Surfer Dan! Maybe we should
turn, sacau? Take a left? Hang a louie? Dude?"

'Eleu gave no response. He merely put his foot down against the passing
dirt, applying the brakes, and angled the board away from the cliff. At the
last minute, they fully turned, and the board surfed parallel to the cliff
edge, only a couple meters away. Shi and Thyago could see down into the
gorge, now, and were stunned at what they saw.

Here was the village. And it was huge. Built entirely on the cliff walls,
there were dozens of round, clam shaped structures clinging to the side.
Maybe hundreds. They were built from giant bamboo-like stalks, tied and
bound together at the top and spread apart at the bottom, like a teepee.
Most of them were covered in canvas, most of them white, like egg shells,
but some were dyed indigo or maroon or lavender or khaki, the color of
dust. Most were painted and covered with symbols and shapes. And they were
all connected with bridges and walkways and ladders made of bamboo and
rope. And, like an ant colony, it was full of activity. People moving to
and fro, unfurling and hanging laundry, hauling up boxes from below with
pulleys and rope, lighting fires and cooking food.

"Paliba'alulu," 'Eleu said as the longboard continued to roll forward.

"Wow," Thyago said.

Shi looked from 'Eleu to the village and back. This place brimmed with
life, with more than life. It was a home and civilization to these people.
How could they do what they needed to do here? But, if they didn't
everything would be gone. "It is very beautiful," she said. "I have never
seen anything like this."

Ahead of them, they could see a dock of sorts, dug into the ground, out of
the wind. Their vessel rolled down the ramp and 'Eleu began to peddle it
like a skateboard, moving it into a row of several others of identical
design. "Oloha," he said again as he dismounted and helped Shi and Thyago
up. Cutter landed behind them then, with a whoosh and a thump.

"Nice flight," Thyago asked.

Cutter eyed him suspiciously. "Yes," he said.

"For a moment, I thought we were about to die," Shi said. "Fortunately,
'Eleu is a capable pilot. I believe I would have sent us over the cliff."
All in all, not the sort of statement one would hope to hear from the
officer who might be responsible for piloting the Galaxy someday. She
smiled however. "But sometimes, ignoring safety guidelines can be
exhilarating."

'Eleu stood watching them for a moment, until another villager ran up beside
them. Like 'Eleu, this man had short black hair and dark, tanned skin. He
was lean and fit, in the way that physical labor and simple food made up,
and he wore no shirt or shoes, only a pair of muted green canvas shorts,
with one pant leg several inches longer than the other. And, like 'Eleu,
his body was painted with dark, simple designs, across his chest and back
and around his arms. He approached 'Eleu and began to speak. Even though
they could not understand the language, Cutter, Shi and Thyago were quite
aware that they were the topic of conversation.

Once the conversation paused, the second man looked at the three visitors
once more, studying them for a moment, before he ran off ahead. 'Eleu
turned and motioned for them to follow him, and he led them out of the
longboard harbor and to a ladder which led down into the village. Thyago
hopped on after 'Eleu and climbed down afterwards, staring out away from the
rock and into the cliffside village. Shi followed next and Cutter took up
the rear.

They were met at the bottom by a small gathering of youth, 'Eleu and the man
who was talking to him up above, as well as two additional men and one
woman. One of the men stepped forward. He was a little older than 'Eleu,
and bigger, a couple inches taller and a little stockier. His hair, also
black, was longer, and pulled back into a small pony tail. He was also
shirtless, his skin painted, but he also wore several necklaces - small
leather ropes wrapped around his neck and tied to an assortment of
feathers. One black, one brown, one orange and white, and one, the largest
one, bright, cardinal red. He looked at 'Eleu and smiled, and they talked
once more in their native language. Then, he looked at Thyago, Shi and
Cutter, his gaze concentrating more on Shi than the other two. "Oloha," he
said, bringing his hand to his chest in the same way 'Eleu had done when
they first met him. "Are you traders?"

"You speak Standard?" Cutter asked.

"Standard?" he repeated, unsure. "I know the trader's tongue. None of us
have ever seen you before. Are you traders?"

"I am Sharzhevashi zh'Rin," Shi said. "We are members of Starfleet. We are
here with very important information, and we would like to offer you our
assistance."

"My name is Kanunu," he said, then paused. "What is Starfleet?"

Shi blinked. It was not an ideal beginning, for sure. "We are a division
of the Federation, responsible for defense and exploratioin. We have come
to help--"

"No help," Kanunu said hand raising in what Shi thought was a gesture of
denial. Or he had practiced some form of martial art and was about to
strike her. Fortunately, he did not. "We celebrate Loko's Festival. Until
the festival is complete, work will wait. Including your help."

"But it is very important, imperative, that we speak to you about this.
Your entire colony is in--"

His face split into a smile. "It is not more important than Loko's
Festival. Please, you are guests, you will join us."

"We'd rather not," Cutter grumbled.

"Nonsense," Thyago interrupted quickly, giving the avian a glare. "We'd
love to come to the festival. Sounds like fun! Who's Loko? Is it his
birthday?"

"Loko? Loko is lord of the harvest. The festival is held to offer thanks
for the season's harvest," Kanunu said. He turned to 'Eleu and they began
to speak in their language. There were many questions from Kanunu and
several clicks in response from 'Eleu.

"We don't have time for this," Cutter said to his group. "They haven't even
begun preparations for evacuation. Instead they celebrate some harvest
festival."

"It does not sound as if they want to discuss anything other than this
harvest festival," Shi said. "The importance of their culture is central in
their lives, and this close to the events, I suspect finding one who will
listen to what we have to say will be difficult. Perhaps an opportunity to
speak will present itself to us."

"Well, it better happen soon. We only have a few days to evacuate," Cutter
said, folding his arms.

Eventually, the conversation among the natives ended, and one of the boys
standing with them ran off into the village. Kanunu turned his attention
back to the visitors, "'Eleu and I will show you to a place where you can
rest before the festival, and someone will help you prepare. While you
wait, the chieftain will probably come to see you, if he is not busy with
his own preparations. He will hear you."

Shi offered a smile and sent a glance in Cutter's direction. "That will be
acceptable," she said. "Accept our thanks."

'Eleu once more signaled for them to follow, and he began to walk across a
rope bridge, down into one of the clamshell shaped structures. Kanunu
stepped aside, to allow the three Starfleeters to pass in front, and then he
took up the rear. "I think he likes you," Thyago said to Shi.

Shi was startled for a moment and she glanced behind her. She leaned close
to Thyago and lowered her voice to ask, "What leads you to suspect that?"

"He keeps looking at you, entendeu?"

With a blink, Shi glanced behind once again. "Thyago, perhaps it is because
I am the only blue person in this entire village," she said. "I am an
alien, and I would surmise that they have not seen my species before."
Cutter overheard the two talking and looked around. The colonists they
passed were examining all of them, as anyone would when encountering a
stranger, but most of the glances focused on Sharzhevashi. Normally, he was
the subject of all the stares, because of his wings. Yet, everyone they met
seemed to treat him as normally as Thyago, the human. He should have been
pleased, since he hated the gawks he received from groundwalkers, yet he
found the situation unnerving.

Eventually, after a short trek through the village, 'Eleu and Kanunu guided
them to a small shelter, though it was bigger than most they had traveled
through. Part of the cliff face had been carved out, making a small alcove
about three meters deep. This space was shielded by one of the bamboo clam
shaped teepees which added another two meters of length to the room, and the
whole space was about three meters wide. The clam was canvassed in bright
red, and painted with dark lines, probably in some symbolic design. There
were two canvas hammocks nailed into the cliff wall, and two bamboo cots, a
couple shelves, covered in carved idols, two leather drums, several baskets
and clay jars, and a woven rug on the floor. The room was separated into
parts by drapes that hung from twine, flapping gently in the soft breeze
that blew in. Each were painted like the canvas tenting outside, as were
the rock walls.

"Please, rest here," Kanunu said. "Someone will come shortly and help
prepare you for the festival."

"Thank you," Shi said.

He nodded, then both he and 'Eleu held up two fingers, touched their
forehead and swiped them across their eyes, before leaving.

Once they were gone, Thyago turned to Cutter and Shi. "So, what do we have
to do to prepare for the festival?"

"You don't have to do anything. They'll prepare you," Cutter said, turning
away and examining their room. "Probably tenderize you and soak you in
oil."

Thyago laughed awkwardly for a moment, then paused uncertainly, "Wait, you
don't think they're cannibals, do you?"

Shi's antennae twitched with silent laughter. "Perhaps there is ritual
costuming we are required to wear," she suggested. "Or perhaps we are
required to bathe in scented waters. Or chalk. I do not believe they will
attempt to eat us." She directed a slightly uneasy glance toward the door.

"Oh, okay, good," Thyago said. Cutter gave no response. He simply
continued to examine the sculptures on the shelves. Thyago moved over to
one of the hammocks and said, "In that case, I'm going to take a nap. Wake
me when, you know, stuff happens."

"We will make certain to do so," Shi said as she turned to examine the set
of idols on one of the shelves set into the wall.

Thyago jumped up into one of the hammocks and laid back in its sling. The
anchors groaned with his added weight for a moment, but held until he got
comfortable and lay still. Then, they snapped, and the sling, and Thyago,
collapsed onto the floor. "Oomph," he grunted as he landed on the hard rock
floor. Flipping the fabric off, he crawled out and stood up sheepishly.
"Don't use that one. It's broke."

Cutter cast an annoyed glare and flexed his wings.

Shi glanced down at the mess on the floor and canted an antenna to the side
as she regarded Thyago. "However, it is very likely they will eat you for
breaking their hammock." With a faint smile, she turned back to the shelves
to examine the drums with both antennae tilited with amusement.

"The Truth Shall Set You Free"

Faylin McAlister
Civy

Lt. Day NPC
Tuscany Civilian Police Investigator

The 'Chief'
Tuscany Chief of Civilian Police

Lt. Cmdr Thompson
Starfleet Security Liaison

===================
It was a typical interrogation room. Dull colors, worn crappy table with
unsteady legs, and chairs that were steel and meant for discomfort.

Faylin's confidence oozed out of her like week old coffee that had been
fermenting in the office coffee pot. Tan from a short stint on Risa,
McAlister crossed her legs and sighed as the Lt. and Lt. Cmdr entered the
room. The smell of coconut tanning oil filled the air around her, giving
Faylin a tropical, yet overly fruity scent.

"Faylin McAlister?"

Staying silent, Fay's eyes lifted upwards to meet their gaze and just
smirked.

"Ooohkay." Day took a seat just opposite of Faylin, weaving his fingers
together and stared harshly at her. "How do you know Lt. Ophelia Zamora?"

McAlister sighed, moving the pineapple flavored wad of gum to the left side
of her mouth before responding. "She was my replacement on board the USS
Galaxy.....after I resigned."

"Did she immediately take over your position, or was she eased into it?"

Fay smiled that classic smile of hers while mentally swallowing the comment
forming that contained the word 'lubricant' in it. "I trained her on the
basics....office things...protocol. Discussed my cases...the ones that
would be transferring over to her care."

"How did lt. Zamora appear? Was she...emotionally stable?"

"Yes, very...considering her husband enjoyed beating the crap out of her on
a regular basis." McAlister harshly responded as her eyes rolled forward.

"How did you come about that information?"

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist...just a smart lawyer. Look at the
evidence. Her arms ripped to shreds, various medical reports in her file
for broken bones, bruises, lacerations......yet she stayed married...the
picture perfect wife even though she was dying inside. Personally....."
Her gum snapped, causing the Vulcan Lt. to jump. "I'd kill the bastard."

"I see." He responded stoically as he scribbled something on his padd
causing Fay to offer an arched eyebrow.

At the sound of the door opening, Lt. Day swiveled in his seat to see his
cohort holding up a small silver disc. "Lt. Day...sorry to interrupt but
the Chief needs to see us immediately."

A slight smile rose on Fay's lips that were coated with the coral color of
Risan Sunset lip stain. That little disc...was her ticket to freedom and
Zamora's ticket straight to hell. It felt good to be so evil yet again.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment Ms. McAlister."

"Actually...it's Mrs......................" Her voice trailed as she
watched him leave her alone.

=====================================
Location: Chief's office

The two presented themselves in front of the portly Chief. Placing the disc
down on the desk, Thompson suppressed the grin that wanted to be on her
face.

"Sir......case solved."

"Oh?" He responded with a mouthful of roast Cardassian Beef as he reached
out with his greasy hand and grabbed the disc. Inserting into the console,
he just grunted upon viewing the act in progress. "Is that?" He mumbled in
question.

"Yes...Sir. That is Lt. Ophelia Zamora.......The ex wife."

Glancing up at Thompson, he spoke only a few words. "Do your
job................"

"Birds of a Feather"

Lieutenant Jarajen "Quatro" Quaaliu
Lieutenant Darius "Carnage" Slaughter (APC, Eric)
Lieutenant Nathan "Cowboy" Everett

Darius was ready. Ready to get off of the Typhon, ready to get to his
new posting .... ready to face the man who was ultimately responsible
for the farce that was the deployment of the first units of Albatross
project fighters.

Quattro.

"Galaxy Approach control, Albatross flight; Inbound from USS Typhon at
Three Zero thousand Kilometers, requesting vectors for embarkation."
He and his wing mate, 'Natural,' continued inbound for the Galaxy, USS
Typhon receding image in their aft viewers. Seconds later the com
crackled back to life.

"Albatross flight this is Galaxy Approach.
Turn to heading 310 Mark 35."

Daruis nodded, he and Natural turning onto the new flight path as he
responded with a simple "Albatross," over the radio. They continued
on like this, the controller on board the Galaxy coming back every so
often with new vectors to take. There was a considerable amount of
traffic around the Galaxy and other vessels nearby, hence Darius'
request for vectoring. He wasn't the most important craft outside and
their fuel and life support would last them several hours if need be.
Finally the call came he had been waiting for. One he never enjoyed
obeying, but in this case it was a relief.

"Albatross flight, Galaxy Approach. Cut engines for tractor
engagement." Once again his sole response was "Albatross." Oh how he
despised that name. Seconds later his fighter shuddered under the
initial grip of the tractor beam.

"Albatross One, tractor engagement confirmed. Albatross Two, hold
current position." The pilots made their acknowledgments. Ten minutes
later the first two fighters were snug, safe and secure within their
new berths. The old Mark VI Rogues had been transferred to the Typhon
the day before, giving the flight deck 24 hours (give or take) to
replace the old fighter's docking and storage support systems with the
new models equipment. Darius glared at the pair of deckhands who were
gawking at him. His face was weathered and rather wrinkled,
indicating a relatively advanced age. How such an old man was still
flying, and on a line unit?!?! "Belay tha' gawkin'," he said,
startling them into action. Grunting with a limited amount of
satisfaction, he nestled his helmet under his left arm, instructed
Natural to make sure their craft were seen to appropriately, and then
promptly looked around. It didn't take long for him to spot his
objective and make his way towards him. After all, there weren't many
pilots in Starfleet with 4 arms. Standing beside him was the Deputy
CAG.

"Cap'ns Quaaliu 'n Everett," Daruis began. "Before ani'thin' 'appens
with these birds, OR I report fer duty as a pilot of tha' Vanguards,
tis me duty ta inform ye: they ain't ready fer action of ANY sort.
Now I don't know what sorts o' foolishness was blabbed to tha'
Admiral, but Dex knew FULL well he was sendin' birds what ain't seen
their proper approvals. I protested then, an' I'll protest again!
Tain't a coincidence tha' project name's 'Albatross.' "

Dark eyes glanced briefly at the pilot, then glared at the sleek,
silvery starfighter. The craft was absolutely seamless. With no
straight lines in her design Project Albatross looked more like
something that swam in an ocean than something built by engineers and
scientists. Jarajen reached up and traced the almost frictionless
hull along the port nacelle pod. "This one appreciates greatly the
Lieutenant Slaughter's candor, but we must endure what the fates and
Command have given us. Yet if the Lieutenant has further
reservations, he may hone his rhetoric on the press shuttle returning
to Sol within the hour ? the Vanguards must serve."

"I ain't be arguin' again'st such," Daruis said, "an' I swore me
service to tha' Fed'ration same as the rest o' us. Me reasons fer not
rejectin' this assignment are me own, save fer one. Ye be needin' an
expert on these .. craft .. Cap'n, an' there be none more qualified
than yours truly."

"And what does the Lieutenant think of the Albatross?" Quattro asked
as he looked up from the gleaming nacelle. "Does she bring fog and
mist, or does she make the winds blow for our canvass?"

"Hmm, now there be a question needin' tha' askin, I agree." Here the
weathered old pilot paused, to think upon truths and gather his
thoughts. "Iffen we were ta give these birds their proper due, say
another eight months or more, t'would be naught but smooth sailin'.
Tha' problem is more'n half o' the junk what makes em fly comes
straight from tha' designers PADD and in ta' reality. We're testin'
both equipment AND finished product at tha' same time, which makes fer
poor quality control iffen ya ask me. Warp drives untested at
maximum velocity, impulse engines stronger'n tha' SIF's can 'andle, a
new look at tha' entire weapons bat'ry, and shields we ain't had time
ta put through live fire trials! Thankfully tha' avionics's stock,
but tha' interior is vastly different from the Rogues so there'll be
transition lag as tha' pilots pick up tha' differences'n quirks of
their new bird. Fortunately Dex was kind enough to provide measures
'gainst THAT particular shortcoming," Darius finished, holding up a
case containing several blue isolinear chips. "Holotraining programs,
as realistic as we could make 'em based off o' available data."
Again the old man paused, then sighed. "Ta' answer yer question Sir,
aye they bring tha' winds. But 'tis a foul smellin wind at best with
red skies in tha' mornin' for ANY pilot what straps themselves in as
they stand."

Nathan had spent pretty much the whole conversation staring at the
sleek, shiny new bird, a mixture of awe and a strange, possibly mildly
disturbing form of lust.

When he noticed the conversation had paused, Cowboy blinked and looked
away from the Albatross. "Yeah, Ah've got one question," he drawled,
turning to look at Slaughter. "What's with the accent?"

"'Tis the result of havin' learned half o' dozen languages back in
tha' time o' square sails and a flat Earth, whilst spendin' more'n'a
century as a sailor and quite often a pirate." Darius smiled at the
Deputy CAG. "I'm an Honorable Man, Cap'n, with a strict code of
conduct I live and die by. I swore me allegiance ta' tha' Fed'ration,
and I don't renege on an Oath once struck. As fer these birds, I'll
have me report on 'em sent ta ye as soon as tha' remainin' craft are
properly stowed."

"This one thinks you humans all speak alike", Jarajen offered, looking
at each of the other pilots. "But this one will not hold it against
either of the Lieutenants. This one eagerly awaits the Lieutenant
Slaughter's reports, and would offer the Lieutenant Everett's
first-hand experience in flying a Hydran-maj craft. This one will
secure an officer from Tactical with fighter-centric strategy
experience. By the end of this week, this one wants flight trials
with all wings with new tactics. Acceptable?"

Darius was less than pleased with the timelines everyone was enacting
- Admiral Dex and his new CAG, to name a few - but he still nodded.
"Bein' that I don't have much choice, Aye Cap'n. 'sides, twouldn't be
much of a fun job iffen there t'weren't a sizeable risk involved, now
would it be?"

Cowboy grinned and nudged one of Quaaliu's arms. "Ah think Ah'm gonna
lahk this guy, Boss."

He nodded to Darius. "Don't you worry, Lieutenant, you brought these
beauties to the right folks. Me and Quattro here, we can handle 'em."

Two sets of hands slapped together as the Nassari beamed at his
pilots, then again at the prototype fighter. "This one agrees, and
sees interesting times ahead. Come, let us learn of our new charge,
and make steps towards mastering them."

Two Shots that Changed All of the Worlds
===========================

Brass Monkey, Gamma Vered IVc

Nikolai Khrushko was dead, but the word had gotten out to the other people on Brass Monkey, the small world of Gamma Vered IVc, that the first of the Starfleet's finest had been taken down. Many of their reactions were pure terror - it wasn't supposed to get to this point, not violence. Heck they all talked about it and no matter what Knute said, most of them wanted to stay, but they'd end up taking the offer for a free trip off the planet.

But the line had been crossed, some of the colonists suddenly, the situation was changed - their mind was easier to make up - they would now fight. Sure, their 'kid' fired the first shot, but dammit Starfleet was supposed to look after them, not kill them. They had the advantage, they had the firepower, they could have taken Nikkie, with out killing him - it was time to defend, to repel the invaders.

For others, it was the other end, now it was definitely time to leave, there was no hope of negotiation now - Starfleet would come in and swoop them out and resistance...there had already been resistance, a death. Those colonists knew that Starfleet would not be as obliging as they had been.

Will Lysander, the Assistant Operations Manager for Brass Monkey made a call to Knute to tell him what happen and the polarisation that it had cause in the colony. Even as he made the call and watched the monitors, he saw the stand off between the two factions. Trying to make two calls at once, he sent security to areas where the violence looked like it was about to begin.

Will wasn't happy, that single action from the stupid kid, had put a big crack in the solidarity of Brass Monkey and that crack was quickly widening...

=====

Vered Cluster Evacuation Centre - Epsilon Vered II

After the communications came in with the information of the two shots, Aina watched as the higher ups in the centre seemed to get all agitated. She had been finally assigned to the communications control centre for the evacuation. The shots from Gamma Vered II and Gamma Vered IVc had changed everything.

Looking up to the observation gallery that was above the communications centre, she saw them discussing the situation. She watched as Commander Janice Baker seemed to take some control over the other liasons and officers in the gallery. Aina watched, her continual playing in the spy holosims had given her the chance to learn to read lips, something that she had used before more than once. And it looked like that Baker was laying down the law.

'Martial Law' made Aina wince, it wasn't going to be any longer trying to convince the colonists, it was going to be moving them by force. The Federation Council had voted to transfer the colonists and by damm Starfleet was going to do it. The situation was now no longer diplomatic, this was now a combat zone. To Aina, it seemed that the Commander was showing her hawk side there. She watched as Baker stormed out of the observation gallery.

A few seconds later, a tell tale appeared on Aina's console. Commander Baker was making a call, a call to Admiral Megarex. This time she was prepared and especially being in the communications control centre, she had a lot more control on what she could do. She copied the two data streams directly as she watched the conversation. Admiral Megarex was listening to Baker's report and nodded.

Megarex seemed very pleased as he responded, =/\= Commander, The council will support your decision one hundred percent. You need no concern on that. I must say this is most opportune - with the Dreyshayans becoming more and more impatient with the timeframe of the evacuation, this gives us the perfect opportunity to appease them. As of now, I will be sending down the official orders to M'Kantu and yourself, use what is necessary to evacuate the colonists. No evacuation groups are to be with out a security or marine escort. We must ensure the lives of our Starfleet personnel in the field now that a number of terrorists have decided to enforce their will over the rest of the law abiding colonists of the Vered Cluster.=/\=

He chuckled, =/\= Oh I like that line, I will have to use it when I contact FNN. Find out where those shots come from, who they were. I'll have Intelligence work on some connections to each other, make it look more organised. This could not have come at a better time. =/\=

Aina didn't worry about listening to the rest, she had already made her decision. Creating a high priority communique addressed to Commander Jaxom on the Galaxy, she attached her copy of the data streams. As a precaution, she encrypted it all under the same encryption that she contacted him only a few days ago with.

She hoped now that Jaxom could do something with it, something to stop all of this. There definitely wasn't a Hydran threat - this proved it all. But there was nothing that she could do, she had to rely on him.

"MARTYRS"

Part I

"It's hot."

"Take of your damn suit then if you want?..I'm sure it'll give you a better
view of things."

"I'm just saying its hot in these things??.when can we take them off?"

"We're done when we're done. They didn't build Rome in a day?.."

"Or blow it up either <snicker>"

The all terrain vehicle bumped and jumped its way across the desolate rocky
environment of the outer Vered Colonies.

Life in the cluster was meager and harsh in most respects, but out here on
the fringes its was downright primitive.

Clouds of dust and tumbling gravel spat from the huge balloon tires as the
ATV driver wrestled with the steering column trying to hold a straight
course on a road that did not exist.

Nobody came out here?.

There was no reason to come out here?..

Unless of course you wanted to make history.

"I'm just saying if we're not there yet then why do we need to wear the
suits? Its hot."

The bickering and complaining was to be expected.

Tempers were short what with the beginnings of the Federation evacuation
underway. Scattered reports of fighting in the hills had already trickled
down to the populace, forcing families to split apart?.choosing between King
and Country??.Federation or Vered Cluster.

People were already dying on both sides.

People leaving?.

People staying?..

They bled all the same, and for the intrepid explorers bouncing around in
the back of the ATV there was only one thing to blame.

The lights in the sky.

Since the Feds arrived, any schoolboy with a half decent set of binoculars
could discern the glowing lights in the night sky that arced across in low
orbit.

The lights were cold, and moved without sound, and yet hung over the Colony
like a constellation of avenging angels in judgment.

The lights had names??Galaxy??Night Shade??Gambier Bay?..and others.

A warship and its attending flock of transports come to change the lives of
all in the Vered Cluster.

Well if the bouncing boys had anything to say about it they would do a
little life-changing of their own.

But first?they needed to learn to swat angels from the sky.

"Contact Raal." called the man riding shotgun, "bear a little left and at
500 meters."

The grizzled old man tugged hard on the steering wheel sending the huge
tires leaping over scattered boulders, and tossing the much abused
passengers around the back of the ATV like rocks in a can.

"Almost there?.." he muttered, his voice muffled through the heavy mask he
wore, "Almost there?.."

Eventually the ATV came to a rest in a halo of dust, and the passengers
almost fell out of the hatches, wobbling to get their 'land legs' back.

There was five of them. Humanoid all clad in thick layers of rubber padding
that covered them from head to toe.

They looked out on the world through thick leaded glass, their breath heavy
through raspy regulators.

The five looked like the last survivors of a world holocaust??.and indeed
they might be.

"Where?" was the simple question.

"There Raal." one pointed a rubber glove. "In the lee of that boulder
and?shit." he consulted the whirling tricorder in his hands?.an ancient
Starfleet model from 100 years before. "Shit Raal??its eighty feet down."

"Eighty feet underground." the Leader scratched at his mask??wishing he
could stroke his beard. "Nobody said this was going to be easy Erich."

Raal turned to his dusty crew. "A little sweat boys. Erich?.Jonab break out
the equipment. Haas?.Marcum?.keep an eye on those orbital readouts. How long
until the next pass?"

One of the younger men held up a blinking display. "We have a 2 hour window
before Galaxy passes over the horizon again?..we'd best work quickly."

And so they did. Stolen mining equipment??disintegrators to dig the
holes?..soil-fusers to shore up the crumbling sides?..and the constant
whirring of tricorders were quickly put to use by practiced hands.

Nobody complained about the heat now, although the rubber suits were
stifling hot. Nobody had to ask what to do??they were experienced miners
all, although their usual target was something more rare and valuable like
dilithium or latinum.

No their target today, was somewhat more common, although for their purposes
still difficult to obtain.

Or perhaps?..difficult legally to obtain without too many questions being
asked.

After all it had no use in the 24th century.

But it did have a definite 20th century application that most had forgotten
about.

"Five feet Raal." called Erich as he wielded his tricorder. His voice
echoing in the long dark hole that had just been bored. "Walls are holding
for now, but I wouldn't want to stay here overnight."

It was a quick and dirty excavation?..something that would normally offend
the professional miners.

No safety gear?..no seismic analysis.

Just a quick and dirty hole stabbed straight into the ground against a
specific target.

But time was a limitation, and they were single-minded in their goal.

"15 minutes until Galaxy comes over the horizon." came the call from above.

Raal manipulated the disintegrator in his heavy gloves boiling away layers
of dirt and rock, while his partner fused the remaining walls into a solid
support that wouldn't collapse on them.

It was dangerous, but would suffice for 15 minutes at least.

"Two feet Raal?..oh this looks like a good sized sample?.careful now."

The miners recalibrated their instruments and the excavation went a little
slower now.

They were careful to separate their target from the rock ore that encased
it.

"Getting there??.getting there??.send down the rope?this is gonna be close."

Time ticked away while more and more of the strange silvery metal was
exposed in the wobbling flashlights.

Easy does it now?..don't chip it or drop it??that would ruin your day.

Was it his imagination that he was sweating more?

There it lay??.under a layer of yellow dust, glimmering in the darkness. A
good 30 pound sample at least?.more than enough?.much more than enough.

"Five minutes until Galaxy rises?.." came the call from far above.

"The rope Erich?.quick now and haul away?..we need to be back in the vehicle
quick."

Grunting and groaning.

Sweating and swearing, and above all the cloying madness of the rubber
suits??

Inch by inch the rope was hauled into the daylight, clouds of dust swirling
about in the twisting wind.

A gloved hand reached out and was grasped??Raal pulled from the hole by his
eager assistants.

"Easy now?..go easy with it boys," he urged panting, "?very delicate."

They five rubber men hovered over their prize, glinting dully in the
sunlight.

It looked like nothing special?..just another metal lump like they had seen
thousands of times before as miners?..mere slag.

Marcum was disappointed. "This is it then? It's a bloody ore chunk. This is
nothing!"

Raal however smiled beneath his rubber mask. "No my friend?.this is so much
more than that?..this is special."

He patted the grey lump tenderly.

"This my friend??this is URANIUM."

"More News"

Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom
Strategic Operations

==Strategic Operations Office==

The Trill commander pinched his nose while squeezing shut his eyes.

Things in the Vered Cluster were going to hell in a hand basket...
just as he suspected they would.

None of the other strategic ops people from the other ships in the
evacuation flotilla wanted to admit he was right either. The whole
mess was now giving him a massive headache.

Had this been the Miranda, Anjoli or his sister would come bounding in
any second with some kind of news, joke, or scuttle that would
alleviate the pain between his temples. Not today. Not on the Galaxy.
Despite knowing several other people that had come to the Galaxy from
the Miranda, he was still working on forging solid working
relationships with the rest of the senior staff.

He'd gone over the majority of the personnel files but those, more
often than not, only told part of the story. There were still many
people for him to meet.

Back to the business at hand. He's just signed off the comm channel
with a strategic ops people from another ship. Their teams had also
encountered unprecidented resistance they foolishly hadn't expected.
The Galaxy's own people were under fire from snipers. It seemed no one
else in the fleet thought the colonists would go to such extremes.

Aren't they surprised now?

The blinking message waiting light on his console brought him out of
his daydreaming.

'Now what?' he thought. 'The only thing left to go wrong now was for
the colonists to start shooting at the ship itself.'

He tapped in his code and was surprised to see the message required a
higher than normal clearance.

'Must be from Mason,' he thought grimly.

He entered his higher clearance passcode and began reading.

'Great... just great.'

Jaal quickly forwarded the message to Captain M'Kantu than left his
office for the Captain's ready room....

"Hostile Forces"

Man'darr stood on the surface with his platoon, who had taken positions in a
small town, overseeing the evacuation of the town. To Man'darr there seemed
less evacuees than wht were present. The surrounding area was busy as the
citizens of the town moved out of their homes, carrying whatever they
could--which was taking too much time for Man'darr's liking. Yet he had to
be patient. He turned at the sound of quickly approahing footsteps of Marine
-issued boots impacting against the stone surface of the ground. He spotted
Sergeant B'renn approaching him quickly. He turned to face the bolian.
"What is it sergeant?"

"Sir, I've just recieved a report that the colonel was hit by a sniper and
has been taken back to the Galaxy. Seems you're in charge of the Marines
now, sir."

The news angered Man'darr. He particularly didn't like snipers--they did
not fight fairly. They often fought from hidden postions and ran whenever
they were spotted. Though he knew the effectiveness of such tactics and the
horrible effect it could have on the morale of his Marines. There was only
one way to kill an assassin...and that was with another assassin. "Have all
Marine Snipers meet with me outside the town in five minutes."

"Aye, sir."

Five Minutes later

Away from possible spies within the town, Man'darr looked down at the
snipers gathered around him. "Alright, listen up. The Colonel has been
badly wounded by an enemy sniper and there appers to be other instances of
sniper activity. Your job is to track down and eliminate these snipers.
Marine Snipers are the most highly trained snipers in the Federation. Lets
show these people that your reputation has not fallen."

"Oorraahh!" the group of six snipers cried out in unison.

"Dismissed...and happy hunting."

The snipers quickly broke up, breaking off into groups of two--a shooter and
a spotter. Man'darr watched as the snipers disappered into the thick forest
nearby and then headed back into the town.

Suddenly it seemed as if the ground shook as the nearby buildings shook,
absorbing the shockwave of an explosion. Man'darr drew his rifle to the
ready position as he rushed forward to see three of his Marines on the
ground badly wounded and the very dismantled body of an unidentified person
near them. The evacuees had ran, screaming. The smell of burnt flesh and
heat from the explosion hung in the air. "What happened?!"

Corporal Smantha Beckett stepped forward. "It was a suicide bomber sir. He
came out of nowhere with a grenade and before we could react, the grenade
went off."

"Damn! Keep on the look--"

Man'darr's words were interrupted by a sudden burst of disruptor fire from
several distant buildings. "Take cover!" he yelled as he launched himself
against a nearby building. Kneeling, Man'darr leaned from around the corner
and opened fire with a quick three-shot burst before returning back to the
cover of the building as two disruptor shots impacted the corner of the
building near him. He tapped his comm badge quickly. "Captain Maivia to
Galaxy, we are taking hostile fire! I have several wounded from a suicide
bomber!"

TBC...

"Weight of Worlds"

Featuring Rear Admiral Megarex (Oded)

"Keep me posted."

Megarex concluded his conversation with Commander Baker, and sank back to
his sofa. He tilted his head to the left and to the right several times,
trying to relief the building stress and tension. He would never admit it,
even to himself, but this operation was straining. His head felt as though
it is being pressed from four directions. And it was.

He read the reports from the colonists' council meeting just prior to
contacting Baker. His frustration about them outlined the entire
conversation. Looking back, it almost sounded as if he wanted to short,
pompous bastards to come over and kick the stubborn colonists where it
hurts. And what he heard about the Galaxy's representatives' behavior during
the meeting didn't make him calmer. He'll have to give M'Kantu a piece of
his mind about his liaison. That's what happens when you let a JAG handle
diplomacy.

As if diplomacy and speaking sense would help with fanatics.

Above his head was a wide touchscreen with a schematic sketch of the Vered
cluster. Some of the colonies were marked red to represent high risk, some
yellow-medium, and the rest were marked blue. As his advisers suggested, he
made a strong differentiation between collaborating 'blue' colonies, and
problematic colonies.

The evacuation on the blue colonies began earlier; Starfleet teams went from
settlement to settlement, offering help and making the transition as smooth
as possible. On one hand it was a very short process, its goal being
changing all the blue colonies into black - fully evacuated - colonies
within a week. On the other hand, each settlement was approached with
endless patience and sensitivity to the needs of the people. Potentially
hazardous situations were to be neutralized with great care and attention.
They could not afford the blue colonies to go yellow.

Yet, they needed to get it done quickly. They needed as many colonists out
of the way when the evacuation of the problematic colonists began. There's
nothing that incites civilian unrest like a good example. The herd
effect was Megarex's biggest concern. That's why he needed to reduce the
horde's size. Divide and conquer.

The clearest thing in his strategy against the resistance pockets was what
he told Baker earlier about the snappers. Just the thought about a
Federation citizen killing a Starfleet marine made his face go purple. The
civilians need to understand that hurting a Starfleet officer was not in
their 'resistance' toolbox. As much as he hated the thought of doing so, he
wanted to instill fear in the heart of the colonists. Fear of hurting the
men in uniform. By showing no mercy to the snipers, he wanted to vast
majority of the 'red' and 'yellow' colonists - who were, in the end, simple
people and not ragged guerrilla fighters - to realize they better keep their
protests peaceful.

He wished he could use the same force against the Dreshayans and the press.

The press, he knew, was going to pounce on the snipers like a pack of
hyenas. He asked his advisers to think of a way to present the situation to
make the colonists look bad and the Starfleet officers seem as the tragic
heroes.

While the public relations were the politicians' problem, the stir through
the Federation could cause outsiders to travel to the cluster and help the
colonists. That was another hazard he could not afford. Also, there was
another risk to consider, and that was the risk to his own career. If he
ends up being portrayed as a bad guy, he could say goodbye to the full
Admiralty. His professional rivals must be relishing on his current
uncomfortable position, and Murdock will be hesitant to promote someone with
a bad public image.

The Dreshayans were just as bad. He began regretting informing Baker about
the secondary objective of the evacuation. Megarex resolved not to discuss
it with Baker on open lines again; Encryption can be trusted, true, but
silence is the best encryption of all. And while he had his reservations
about the Dreshayan deal, he realized that once it was decided upon it had
to be executed flawlessly.

The Dreshayans knew this as well, however. There was one particular midget
whose entire purpose in life it seemed was to make Megarex's life miserable.
The Dreshayan kept irritating him, asking questions, demanding to know when
they're going to finish messing around. Megarex wanted to snap his neck, to
make holes in its diminutive body with a disruptor. To impale him on a
Bondar speak. To...

His face must be totally purple by now. It was lucky that he ensured total
privacy before contacting Baker. He did not want anyone from his entourage
to see him that way.

He tilted his head left and right some more, then sat down to record the
evacuation orders of the blue colonies. The weight of this grim mission felt
heavier than ever before.

"Clear and NORMAL Danger"

The continuing Space Adventures of Ensign Jill Normal

(all in good fun remember)

WARNING. ENTERING HAZARDOUS TERRITORY. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Ensign Jill Normal examined the large red and white sign with a bit of
curiosity, leaning forward to read the fine print underneath:

~~Starfleet Command will not be held responsible for anyone killed, maimed,
bitten, or otherwise bitch-slapped??consider yourself warned fool~~~

Jill was standing in the middle of the Deck 10 crew quarters, possible one
of the most boring and mundane areas of the Galaxy, and yet here?here was
this sign.

It stretched from floor to ceiling and sealed off an innocent looking
section of hallway that for all intents and purposes looked like any other
section of crew housing.

This had to be a joke?..

Jill peeked around the sign and down the hallway.

This wasn't Engineering with highly classified areas??..

This wasn't Weapons Section with volatile substances???

This wasn't even Intelligence with all the myriad of security devices
present there??..

This was a line of Crew quarters??

With a warning sign out front.

Reassuring herself that it was all a big joke, and feeling the urge 'to
boldly go' Jill took one small step down the mysterious hallway.

"Don't go down there Ensign." the voice caused Jill to jump with a squeak of
surprise. She whirled to see a smiling young Lieutenant standing there with
a concerned look on his face.

"Don't?.I ?.uh?I wasn't?" Jill stammered for a for moments before collecting
her wits again. "Sorry?.I didn't realize it was classified?..I just saw the
sign and?.was curious."

The lieutenant smiled broadened. "Don't worry?.its not classified??its just
not ?.uh you know?not safe."

"Not safe?" Jill peeked around the sign again. "It looks like a block of
crew quarters?."

"It is?..its just were?..well where we keep the Dangerous crewmates."

"Dangerous?" Jill frowned ,"What do you mean??uh?..?"

"Mathers?..Rick Mathers." The Lt extended his hand. "One-shot NPC"

"Excuse me," Jill frowned as she took his hand, "One-shot???"

"NPC." The officer beamed proudly, "I'm a one-shot NPC here to guide you
through this little section of your journey, and then never to be heard from
again??.That's why I have a simple, easy to memorize name like 'Rick' to aid
people in keeping thing straight."

"What?"

"Exposition, my dear?..exposition, "Mathers nodded, "Now that I have warned
you about not going down the hall, we can begin our tour."

Following the NPC's inviting gesture, Jill took a few nervous steps down the
mysterious hallway.

Mather's certainly was odd, but not the strangest person she met aboard
Galaxy so far??.

Taking Normal by the arm, Rick began acting as tour guide. "Okay, as
mentioned this particular section of crew quarters are where we house the
particularly dangerous members of our happy crew.

These are the psychos?..the loners?..the grizzled old war vets barely able
to cage the animal within. ?.blah blah blah. Fairly standard stuff."

"We also have a most of our hair-trigger killers?..covert operatives?..you
know, crew members masquerading as mild-mannered window cleaners, while
secretly leading a double life as a hired assassin for Section 31. Lots of
those by the way?. we had to start double-bunking them to save room."

"Yeah I know," Jill muttered, "I got some shadowy character for a roomate.,
said that if she told me her name, or shared my toothbrush she'd have to
kill me."

"Exactly." Rick stifled a yawn. "Run of the mill stuff."

They passed one innocent looking door, and Mathers got real excited.
"Ooooooh. Here we go?.this one is kinda unique. We have here the quarters of
Victor Krieghoff?.or as we like to call him?..the Dancing Demon."

"Dancing what?"

"Demon." Rick explained with a yawn. "Apparently he's possessed by the ghost
of a haunted starship?..runs around wearing a bed sheet over his head with
little eye holes cut out and scaring people. Very disturbing stuff really."

"Yer kidding."

"Not at all check it out." Rick pointed at the door where a little sign read
"Abandon hope all ye who enter"

Underneath it was a little drawing of a ghost with the word 'Boo!'

Rick shuddered slightly while Jill raised an eyebrow.

Right next to the door was a little glass cabinet containing a vial marked
'Holy Water'

A sign stated ~~In Case of Krieghoff?Break Glass~~

"Riiiiiight."

The Lieutenant shrugged "Fine don't believe me, lets just ask him shall we?"
He reached out to touch the buzzer. "Just don't blame me when he gives you a
case of the heebie-jeebies."

A few short moments later the door flew open and?.lo and behold?. A man
wearing a bed sheet over his head with two little eyeholes appeared!

"Boo!" he exclaimed shaking a pair of chains menacingly.

Rick Mathers recoiled visibly, his skin pale with fright while Jill merely
raised an eyebrow.

"Boooooooooooooooo!" Krieghoff repeated going for the real guttural moaning,
giving the chains a jingle.

"Back demon!!" Rick shouted whipping out the vial of Holy Water. "The power
of Kirk compels you!! The Power of Kirk compels you!!"

The man in the bed sheet retreated, but then seeming to notice that Jill
wasn't impressed either way, decided to try a new trick.

"Hey guys check this out." he exclaimed, pulling the sheet off to reveal his
brooding grizzled face. (his razor was set on permanent five o clock shadow)

"Okay?.you watching?..you watching? Here goes??.."

With a little flourish Victor neatly spun his head around three times on his
neck making little scary faces the whole time.

"Ta---DA!!" he bowed once his head came round the last time?.pretty scary
huh? For a couple extra bucks I can spit pea soup on yah."

"Maybe another time Victor." Rick gave the man another good of Holy water
for good measure, "I'm just showing the new girl around."

"Oh?.okay." Kreighoff looked crestfallen, "Watch out though?.there's some
crazy people on this deck." he made little twirling motions with his
fingers.

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

The next door down was not a door at all but rather a cage with iron bars.
Inside there came the sound of snarling and snorting like unto a wild animal
kept at bay.

In spite of herself Jill recoiled until she saw a normal looking man sitting
behind the bars relaxing in a lounge chair.

"This man?.why is he locked up like?.."

"DON'T TOUCH THE BARS." Rick slapped her hands away. "Sorry but do you want
to loose an arm?"

"But who?.?"

"This." Rick explained his voice low?." This is Jebediah Baile?..he kills
people."

"What?"

"He kills people?.that's why we keep him around?..he walks around and kills
people?..or beats them up?.or maims them. At the very least stands around
looking angry a lot."

"He's an assassin?" Jill recoiled?..she wasn't aware Starfleet used such
tactics.

Rick looked confused. "An assassin??uh?.no. He doesn't kill the enemy?..just
our guys."

"What?"

"You know?..fellow crewmembers?..random people walking around the
corridors?.small puppies?..kills them."

"For heavens sake why?"

Rick frowned, "Because he's good at it."

"But why is he here instead of in an mental institution or prison?" Jill
asked looking in at the man past the bars.

"Why would we do that?"

"Huh?"

"Why would we want to put him in prison?"

Jill frowned, "Because he kills people."

"Yep?..pretty good at it too??.just a few months ago he beat up this chick
on the holodeck?.kicked her ass."

"Why?"

"I dunno?..because that's what he does." Rick looked at Baile with
affection. "Oh yeah?.he also is fun to feed?check it out."

The Lieutenant pulled a coin from his pocket and fed it into a nearby
vending machine.

SPLUT!

"Ewwww?.what is that?" Jill wrinkled her nose.

"Raw meat?.check it out?..Hey Baile?..theres a good boy Baile! Who wants the
raw meat?.who wants the raw meat?"

Rick dangled the bloody hunk in front of the bars.

Inside the Marine dropped his magazine and started spinning around in little
excited circles.

"Theres a good boy! You want the raw meat?.don't you! Here ya go boy!"

The officer tossed the mess into the bars, and Jill had to turn as Baile
leapt upon it excitedly making gobbling noises.

"Yeah?.he's cool." Rick murmured admiringly before leading Jill onto the
next room.

>From the other side of the door came the sound of yelling and the heavy
thuds of breaking furniture.

"Sounds like somebody is having a fight in there." Jill wondered, slightly
concerned.

"A fight? Naw" Rick waved dismissively, "Its just Man'Darr and Branwen's
quarters?..they're newlyweds."

"Newlyweds?" Jill blushed a bit, "Wow from all that crashing about, they
must really be having a good time."

"Sex?" Rick replied, "Nope?.that's just Man'Darr beating the crap out of his
wife?..it's a Capellan thing."

"Beating her?"

"Sure?.check it out." He rang the bell.

Branwen London answered the door shortly thereafter smiling a huge
gap-toothed smile and sporting huge black eyes.

"Who is it?.oh Rick! How are you?" She greeted them happily as a trickle of
blood ran down from her nose, "How's the NPC department going?"

"Same old same old." Rick shrugged, "Exposition exposition??See you lost
some new teeth there Bran. Looks good."

Bran blushed coyly touching the huge gap in her smile. "You noticed you old
fox?..how nice. Yeah Dar knocked out a few bicuspids just this morning."

"Well it works for you." Rick beamed while Jill stood in open mouthed shock.
"In Dar home? I'm showing off the new girl to everybody."

By way of answer Man Dar appeared behind Bran and took a baseball bat to the
back of her head. "Out of the way woman!!!!!" he bellowed smashing in her
cranium with a wet crunch, "We've got visitors!!! Oh hey Rick what's up?"

Jill dropped to her knees to assist the battered Bran while the men caught
up on things??football scores?.politics?..wife beating?.that kinda stuff.

"Oh my god?..you cracked her skull!!!" Jill exclaimed in shock, "She needs
help!"

"No?.no?Im okay." Bran waved her away and stumbled to her feet, " I just
walked into the door again??backwards??.at a full sprint?..silly me."

"Sounds reasonable to me." Rick nodded.

"Oh by the way?.guess what?" Bran announced as she tried to focus on the
dancing lights (silly concussions) "Dar and I just found out we're
pregnant!!! I'm gonna be a mommy!!!"

"Hey congratulations?.." Rick started to say,

Before the sentence could be finished however, ManDar doubled up his fist
and punched poor Bran full in the stomach with all his strength flinging her
across the room.

"Holeeee Crap!" Jill shouted?"You cant hit her in the stomach?.she's
pregnant!!!!"

"Not anymore." ManDar beamed.

"Oooof?you big silly." Bran smiled proudly, blood gushing from between her
legs, "That's the third miscarriage this week?.my darling Dar likes to keep
me on my toes."

Jill merely stood in open mouthed disbelief.

"Hey that gives me an idea baby." Bran cooed from behind cracked swollen
lips. "What say we go off and have extremely painful unsatisfying sex and
see if we can go for four."

"Sounds wonderful." Dar leered, cracking his knuckles, "If you'll excuse us
folks."

The door hissed shut, and Rick smiled a secret smile. "Newlyweds."

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

The tour continued, Rick Mathers pointing out items of interest. "Faylin
Mccalister used to live there." he gestured. "She was cool?..have sex with
you?.then kill ya."

"Sex?"

"Yeah?.she also had this shape changing thing going on, so lets say you were
into Furries?..or sheep?.or whatever?."

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT." Jill cut off that line of conversation.

"Oh ?.okay." Rick looked disappointed. "Did I mention she was a top secret
Assassin for Section 31?"

"Isnt everybody?" Jill sounded weary.

"Yeah??suppose so."

They passed a section of corridor that looked out into space?. A long line
of floor to ceiling windows gazing out onto eternity.

Two window-washers were dutifully scrubbing the transparent aluminum making
sure everything was spic- and-span on M'Kantu's Galaxy.

Jill stopped to admire the view for a moment, and it was fortunate she did
so, for at that exact moment Window Washer #2 suddenly pulled out a huge
double-headed Axe and with a mighty swing planted it deep in the skull of
Window Washer #1!!

"HOleeeee crap!" Jill jumped back, "That man just Axe murdered his
partner!!!"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Oh geeez?.not now." he checked his watch, "This is so
gonna put us behind schedule.

While Washer #1 twitched and bled all over the floor, Washer #2 dutifully
retuned to his job, scrubbing some spattered blood from the viewports.

Alarms were sounded, and within a matter of minutes Security personnel
arrived on scene and began taking statements.

"That's James Corgan." Rick nudged Jill and whispered while the crime
photographers flashed pictures, "He's gonna be moving down here soon I
wager." Rick made little twirling motions.

"So what happened here?" Cogan asked?maintaining control despite the voices
in his head.

"He fricking Axe murdered his partner!" Jill nearly screamed at the horror
of it all.

"Who did?"

"That guy over there washing the windows!" she pointed.

"Uh?.yeah?..and what did you see Rick?" James asked.

"Well?..I did see him pick up an axe and put it into the victims head??but
I'm not jumping to conclusions."

"Wise move." James made a note on his little pad. "We'll have to wait on the
coroners report before establishing a cause of death."

"Cause of death?" Jill goggled her eyes?.He's got an Axe in his head!!! Why
are you not arresting that man? He's still washing windows for crying out
loud!!!"

Corgan opened his mouth to answer but just at that moment none other than
Captain M'kantu arrived on the scene.

"What's going on here gentlemen?.Commander Corgan?.Lieutenant Mathers?..why
is this man laying down on the job?"

"Seems that he has an Axe in his head sir??possibly self-inflicted."

"SELF INFLICTED!!???!!! The FRAZZZING WINDOW WASHER DID IT!!!!!! I saw him
do it!!!"

M'Kantu studied the frantic young Ensign. "And who might you be young lady?"

"Normal?.Ensign Jill Normal sir. " Uh?newly graduated from the Academy and
transferred her last week. I saw that window washer guy pick up that axe and
kill his partner!!"

Mkantu studied the situation. "Hmmmmm seems reasonable??what do you say
Commander?"

Corgan shrugged , "Well we have two witnesses??the security camera
recording?.plus the guy did confess??I suppose it could be construed as a
murder."

Daren frowned. "Shame??damn shame. Tell you what though?..we're in the
middle of a delicate diplomatic mission, and I think for the good of the
Federation we need to let this one go."

"LET HIM GO!!???!! " Jill shrieked, "He's an AXE MURDERER!!!"

"Yes yes?.and I'm sure he's really sorry he did it." M'kantu explained, "
but he's also a window washer, and I like my ship appearing nice for the
diplomats??.there are higher concerns at stake."

"Such as?"

"Such as??.well we're already short a Washer, it wouldn't do to imprison
another one at this point in time. What do you say Commander?.think we can
let this one go with a warning?"

Corgan snapped his notebook shut. "No problem Captain?.I've got my doubts
about the witnesses at any rate??..beside like you say?..good of the
Federation and all."

This was too much for Jill who ran off tearing out her hair.

"Oh and Commander," M'kantu added, "Keep an eye on that new
Ensign??something not quite 'Normal' About her. "

"Terrorism Amongst the Stars"

Dorega Arevlir
FNN Lead Reporter

Well, this really was a piece of pie .... and thanks to a little sweet
talking with Megarex, some expert applications of hacking and decryption
expertise by a few of his best field subordinates, and his story was taking
perfect shape. All he had to do was add in a little detail here or there,
"guesses" he would call them, but they'd muddy the waters even more, and get
a REAL rise out of ... well, just about everyone. And no one could fault
him for making this singular report. After all, he wasn't attacking the
Federation Counsel, or supporting them, either. He was reporting Truth and
Fact as he saw them. With a colorfull spin, of course. What journalist
wouldn't? After all, those that didn't take creative liscense with their
material were inevitably bound for bland documentaries and fact finding
missions, where their dry and forthright, near scientific examinations of
events and details would be given to those of higher stock and caliber to
properly broadcast to the Galaxy At Large.

[ POV: Desktop Terminal Display ]

<Static ensues for a few seconds, after which the Federation News Net logo
apears. It is an orange "FNN" superimposed upon a largely indecipherable
20th century newspaper. In the lower left corner of the paper is the
Federation Seal. The motto "We serve to observe" apears in the headline bar
at the top of the page.>

<4 seconds later, the FNN Logo is replaced by the image of a human. Mid
30's, brown hair slicked back, green eyes, and a pale complexion mark this
individual as someone that doesn't get out of the office very much. He
wears a black utilitarian suit featuring a double-breasted jacket with gold
trimming, the standard uniform for FNN reporters whether in the field or
behind a desk. A combadge in the shape of "FNN" is attached to his suit on
the left breast.

DOREGA AREVLIR: Good Evening, I'm Dorega Arevlir with the 1800 hour
broadcast of the Federation News Net. Tonight we're hailing from the USS
Galaxy, pride of the Fleet! Already we've entered the Vered cluster and
teams have been dispatched to every colony in order to begin the
evacuation.

DOREGA BEGINS WALKING DOWN A CORRIDOR AS HE CONTINUES TO SPEAK. VARIOUS
CREWPERSONS PASS HIM. THEIR EXPRESSIONS VARRY ACCORDING TO PERSONALITY,
UPBRINGING, AND VIEWS TOWARDS THE MEDIA AT LARGE AND DOREGA AREVLIR IN
SPECIFIC.

DOREGA AREVLIR: It's shakey, many people don't want to go. When these
colonies were established, part of their charter specifically stated that
the Federation would provide security adequate towards any threats that may
rise up against the colonies. For the first 5 years this was true.
Starfleet held a presence of 4 starships, two Excelsior and two Miranda
class vessels of top of the line quality for their day. As the starships
headed back for refits and refurbishments over the years, they were
dispatched, one by one, towards 'more important sectors' of space. The
colonists of the Cluster were told by numerous Federation and Starfleet
officials that once their duties were complete the vessels would return,
even as they were being routed towards additional assignments."

[ POV: SETTLEMENT EXTERIOR, UNIDENTIFIED PLANET ]

DOREGA AREVLIR STANDS IN THE FOREGROUND. BEHIND HIM IS A SETTLEMENT WITH A
NUMBER OF INDIVIDUALS MOVING ABOUT, SOME STARFLEET BUT THE REST ARE
CIVILLIANS. EVERY SO OFTEN THE SPARKLE OF TRANSPORTER BEAMS CAN BE
SEEN WHISKING COLONISTS AND THEIR ESSENTIALS UP TO THE WAITING TRANSPORT
VESSELS

DOREGA AREVLIR: Today, however, I stand before you as a humbled man. Just
hours ago and on multiple world within the Vered cluster, violence struck
from the most unlikely sources. "Two shots heard 'round the Cluster" are
what many have been calling them, a rallying call to arms hearkening back to
the days of Earth's history and the begining of the Fight for Independence
of 13 colonies from the reign of England, these colonies would later form
the old United States of America. However, the killings of today were not
the actions of freedom minded revolutionaries. The murders were enacted by
a well hidden, organized terrorist cell, with members spread through out the
Vered Cluster. In just under a day 4 Starfleet servicemembers have been
killed, with at least 20 more hospitalized. It is known that at least 2
terrorist have died, one by his own hand in a suicide bombing, the other
just after killing one marine and wounding Colonel Arvellion, the USS
Galaxy's Marine Commanding officer.

PICTURES AND VIDEO FOOTAGE COME UP ON THE SCREEN, TO INCLUDE DEAD MARINES,
BLASTED BUILDINGS, AND INJURED CIVILLIANS. DOREGA AREVLIR'S COMMENTARY
CONTINUES OVER THE IMAGERY.

DOREGA AREVLIR: Before you now is just some of the results of the violence
that has ensued. While the snipers targeted only Starfleet personnel, this
suicide bomber's attack was indiscriminate of uniform and oath. His attack,
in addition to the dead and injured marines, also killed 4 civilians and
hospitalized 8 others, many in critical condition.

AT THIS POINT DOREGA IS RETURNED TO THE FIELD OF VIEW AND PAUSES, PUTTING A
HAND TO HIS RIGHT EAR TO COREOGRAPH THAT HE IS LISTENING TO A MESSAGE. HIS
FACE FALLS AS HE TURNS HIS EYES BACK TO THE AUDIENCE.

DOREGA AREVLIR: It is my sad duty to anounce that the death toll has risen,
3 of those injured in the suicide attack have died. Another 12 Starfleet
personnel have also been killed, and 3 more civilians with them. These
Starfleet were not marines or security officers. These latest deaths were
of the common crew found onboard a starship, whose combat training is
oriented towards self defense as opposed to outright agression. Most of the
crews of the various starships have been drafted into evacuation
assistance. They do everything they can to peacefully help the colonists
pack up and transport their belongings. Their ownly weapons are discreet
type 1 phasers, identical to the device I and my crew have been issued for
self defence, primarily against the ocasional predators that roam these
planets.

DOREGA AREVLIR RAISES INTO THE FIELD OF VIEW A SMALL TYPE 1 PHASER, THE
INDICATOR CLEARLY SET FOR STUN. HE CONTINUES HIS ORATION.

DOREGA AREVLIR: In every situation, every killing, it is indisputable that
the terrorist acted first. Starfleet weapons have been set on stun since
the begining, and the presence of marines or security detachments have only
been to provide protection and assistance. The murders were unwaranted and
unprovoked. 'Starfleet is evicting us, they are supposed to protect us,'
comes the clammoring cry. These accusations are wrong. Starfleet does not
make or set policy, though they often end up with the unfortunate duty of
enforcing the laws when local arbiters and other enforcement officials prove
inadequate. The Federation Council issued these dreadfull orders
and Starfleet is required to carry them out.

DOREGA AREVLIR PAUSES ONCE AGAIN, HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND BODY LANGUAGE
DROOPING THOUGH HE CONTINUES TO DISPLAY PRIDE, BUT NOT IN HIMSELF. HIS
VOICE IS SOFTER, MORE CARING THAN PREVIOUSLY.

DOREGA AREVLIR: In all that I have seen, I must attest that the
professionalism and dicipline of the Starfleet personnel on this assignment
has been and continues to be beyond reproach. They don't enjoy this any
more than the rest of us, but we've all had unpleasent tasks set before us.
It is a testament to their dedication, to their loyalty, duty, respect,
selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal courage. It's why they are
out there, braving the dangers of the cosmos so that we, the public, can sit
back in our safe, comfortable homes every day, and go to bed knowing nothing
bad will happen to us. When they signed up, they knew, every last one of
them and they'll gladly tell you: service in Starfleet is just that,
service. Service to a people in any capacity is dangerous and often
unpleasent. They don't run the Federation.

DOREGA AREVLIR'S ATTITUDE PERKS UP, A FIRE LIGHTING WITHIN HIS EYES AS HE
CONTINUED.

DOREGA AREVLIR: But they persevered and they are STRONG for it. Strong in
mind and spirit, they have the hearts and souls of warrior and poets alike!
And while it is their duty to evacuate the colonists from the Vered Cluster,
they are NOT the enemy! That title falls squarely on the shoulders of the
Dreshayans! The diminutive race of beings has opposed the presence of the
Federation within the Vered cluster since the first colonists arrived, but
untill now they had nothing but empty claims to ancestral settlements and
habitations dating milenia in the past. I have uncovered sources that point
to a shocking truth about the evacuation, details that the Powers That Be
have elected to keep from the population.

Of the Triad, the hydrans are the most visible threat to the Federation
and other of the Alpha Quadrant Powers. The Federation's position within
the Vered cluster is shaky at best. There are suspicions within the
investigation teams that these terrorists have connections to outside
sources; Hydran involvement is most likely though the Dreshayans have yet to
be ruled out.

We'll have more next time. I'm Dorega Arevlir, Vered Cluster, FNN nightly
news.

THE DISPLAY SCREEN QUICKLY FLASHES UP THE FNN LOGO, THEN THE STANDARD
"TRANSMITION ENDED" SYMBOL/TEXT FOR THE USER'S SPECIFIC DEVICES.

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