Resistance

Commander Brian Elessidil, Chief Counselor
1st Lt Branwen London, Marine Staff Psychologist
Corporal Cian?n Tierney, Combat Medic

Cian?n monitored the sensors as the shuttle made its descent to New B'Hala.
His mind was racing as usual, tactfully listing the items he had packed,
determining potential conflicts and subsequent exit strategies, and
assessing the abilities of Commander Elessidil and Lieutenant London. While
he had not experience situations that required physical confrontation with
either, he assumed they had some combat training.

"Commander, I've been thinking more about what she said." Cian?n admitted,
motioning to London. "It might be tactful for me to be introduced as a
Doctor rather than a Corporal."

She nodded satisfied that he had thought about the situation, that was all
she had really asked for. And Branwen was pleased with his decision.
"Maybe we can do the same, sir?" she suggested.

"I think we should keep things as up front as possible," Elessidil
replied. "I don't mind referring to Cian?n as 'Doctor' rather than
'Corporal' because I think it's more useful all the way around for
everyone to know him as that. But as for us, since they know we're
Starfleet and these uniforms will say more than anything else, I'd
just as soon go by 'Commander'. 'Doctor' will only likely confuse
things and 'Counselor' may put them on the defensive even more."

Branwen thought for a while. "He will probably right, commander. These
people are not stupid. I was just trying to make it easier, but there is no
easy way in this, is there?" Inwardly she was still praying for a miracle.

The planet seemed reminiscent of many other planets on which Cian?n
had stepped. His eyes instantly adjusted to the change in light, a
result of genetic modification. He couldn't "sense" any impending
doom, though from his year serving the Tarsian War the soldier knew
that the environment can often be misleading. Against his better
judgment - probably due to heavy psych sessions - the Angosian left
his phaser rifle. It was too much of a statement. That wasn't to say
that Cian?n wasn't armed, just more discretely.

"There," Brian indicated, gesturing toward a low building a few
hundred feet ahead. The walk from the shuttle hadn't been very far,
but it was enough to see that the structure ahead was different from
the surrounding houses, barns and sheds to suggest it had some special
purpose. "It's a kind of multi-purpose meeting building they use out
here and we're told it's been the organization point for some of the
demonstrations and other activity. One of the more respected
community members -- Sorvin Connath --" he said, checking a PADD, "has
agreed to meet with us there."

"Sounds like a good starting point. He can give us an insight into how
people
view the evacuation. And how best to approach them." Bran said.

"I hope so," Elessidil agreed. "We're not exactly a welcome sight
here, but if we can convince at least a few key people that we're not
completely heartless and unfeeling toward their plight, we'll have
made our job that much easier."

As they approached the building, the counselor's keen telepathic
senses already indicated a presence within. Pleased it wasn't a mob
or rally that awaited them -- nothing could be taken for granted in a
situation as volatile as this -- Brian opened the large door, leading
the way in. Though not quite cavernous, the space was large, clearly
designed to hold one or more large groups of people. Crates -- most
sealed, some not -- lined the walls in what appeared to be a
stockpiling of supplies. It wasn't clear at first glance what they
held. It could have been anything from food to arms for all they
knew, and their unseen content could likely tell them a lot about the
mindset of the people in this area.

"I'm Sorvin Connath," a large, rugged man stated. He approached the
trio almost immediately, though without any sign of malice or
aggression. He seemed focused, if not quite eager, on getting down to
business.

"Commander Brian Elessidil," the counselor answered for the group.
"This is Lieutenant London and Doctor Tierney."

"'Doctor, eh?" Connath echoed, sizing up the Angosian. "Hope we won't
be needing you much."

Standing slightly behind but near to Brian and ready to grab Connath's
arm if the need arose, Cian?n smiled warmly - it may have been a
stretch - but it came across as acceptable. "It's a hope we all have."
The soldier wasn't focused on being a medic, he was focused on
strategy. He had already calculated the best route of escape. The
marine also morbidly calculated the number of assailants he could take
out giving the others time for escape.

Branwen kept silent for now, and left the discussion to her superior. She
knew from some courses at the academy that negotiation often worked better
if one person that the talking, except if the other party initiated contact.
Some of her Marine training took over, and she found herself surveying her
surroundings and looking after the safety of their small party.

Deciding there was no point in bogging things down in useless small
talk, Brian got to the point. "Mister Connath...."

"Call me Sorvin."

"Sorvin," the counselor continued, "I think we all know why we're
here. There've been reports of...activity...in the area recently and
we want to do what we can to help calm things before anything gets out
of hand."

Connath waited a moment before replying, quickly glancing to the two
other officers as they observed him and their surroundings. "We're
not terrorists, Commander," he said solemnly, "just hard-working folk
who want nothing more than the home we've built with our own sweat and
blood."

"I understand," Brian replied, trying to convey his sympathy toward
the colonists and the complexity of the whole situation without
sounding condescending.

"Then you understand that if we were violent people by nature, you and
I wouldn't simply be standing here having a conversation."

Again, Brian nodded his understanding. The other man's sincerity was
easily readable, but the Betazoid could also tell that Connath wasn't
the type who would willingly stand by while everything he had was
being threatened. "I'm not trying to make accusations, only doing
what I can to help minimize whatever tension we can in an already
difficult situation."

Once again, Connath paused before responding. It was clear he was a
thoughtful man by nature, but a few quick glances in Cian?n's
direction in particular suggested he wasn't entirely ready to let down
his guard. "There's an old saying that a picture is worth a thousand
words.... Come with me." He looked them each in the eye for a moment
before turning to lead them to a door on the other side of the
building.

After a slight hesitation Branwen followed. Security would be harder to
maintain inside. But this man had been honest with them, and she did not
believe he meant them harm. She was one of those officers who were extremely
not happy with this mission and she was not looking forward to having to
remove the colonists. Bran nodded when Connath made eye contact and followed
him outside.

Cian?n found it difficult to empathize with the colonists. It was a
rational decision that offered but one choice at this juncture. Move
or die. Cian?n also wasn't swayed by the words of Sorvin. Cian?n had
heard it called a "sharp tongue" on Earth. While Sorvin's beliefs may
be laudible, his actions were not. Regardless, the Angosian stayed
close to the counselors.

A little more dust seemed to swirl in the air than before as the three
followed their host down a dirt road leading away from the building.
This was definitely the outskirts of the colony, much more rural and
sparsely settled than closer in toward the center and Brian almost
wondered if the people hoped they could remain off the sensor screen,
as it were, while the main part of the colony was forced out. It
wouldn't have surprised him, if Sorvin was an example of what the
people out here were like. It was readily apparent that he was strong
and independent, the type who had no fear of braving whatever
challenges life threw his way, and if he had to face them alone, that
was better than surrendering.

"Everyone has been told they have to leave?" Brian asked. He knew the
answer because of the reports of resistance and because of their brief
conversation with Sorvin thus far, but there was little evidence that
anyone was doing anything other than going about their daily lives, at
least based on the few people they'd passed.

Sorvin continued to lead on. "They know. If it hadn't been for
reports of the arrival of a fleet sent by the Federation, we probably
would have ignored it, and just assumed it was just another decree
from the central authority that no one would bother to follow-up on or
enforce out here. This isn't Starfleet, Commander. We don't just
march in lock-step because someone in a higher place said to."

There was the resistant spirit, Brian thought. It was something they
were going to have to try to work against, because like it or not,
someone in a "higher place" had indeed given an order.

The counselor noticed a few stares as they continued following Sorvin.
It wasn't surprising considering the uniforms they were wearing and
the fact that everyone knew why they were here.

Branwen noticed the atmosphere around them, these people looked like they
could turn hostile any moment, and she hoped she would be able to defend the
Commander if that happened. Right now she kicked herself for not bringing a
platoon of Marines as backup. There was nothing they had to offer these
people in return for them giving up everything they had ever worked for.

Cian?n gave a quick glance to Branwen, the two were thinking the same thing.
Words didn't have to be exchanged. He didn't quite understand Sorvin's
comment on not following "higher-up orders." The Angosian was used to
following orders, no matter how absurd. If Starfleet had no sway then the
Team would have to plead to their rational side, if that was possible.

It was the first connection she felt between herself and the corporal. And
it was good to know they were on the same page about security. When push
came to shove they would both try to keep the commander safe.

They continued in silence for awhile, observing the few people they
passed along the way but only stopping when Sorvin indicated a
modest-looking structure a few feet ahead. "May not look like much to
you," he began, "but that's what I'm fighting for. My home. Please,
come in."

As the three followed, Brian couldn't help but feel a little off
balance. He came here expecting a mob of angry colonists waving fists
and pitchforks and whatever else they could get their hands on.
Instead, he'd just been calmly invited into a man's home. Instead of
an angry mob, what he saw was a neatly kept home, a still relatively
young but matronly woman humming over some baking, and a small child
gnawing on some bread. They hadn't all yet made it through the
doorway when the little girl dropped her bread and ran to the door.
"Papa!" She rushed into his arms, seemingly oblivious to the
strangers who accompanied him.

Turning from her oven, the woman Brian saw when they entered confirmed
her identity as Sorvin's wife when she walked over and kissed him
gently. She looked at the others with eyes that suggested she knew
who they were, and while she wasn't entirely at ease with their
presence they were welcome nonetheless.

"Commander, this is my wife, Melody, and our youngest, Drasha. This
is Commander Elessidil, Lieutenant London and Doctor Tierney." Mildly
surprised that Sorvin remembered their names so easily, Brian smiled
at the little girl who in turn regarded him tentatively.

"Hello," Melody acknowledged with slight nod. "Can I offer you
something to drink?" The hospitality was genuine, even if a little
strained.

"We really appreciate your hospitality," Brian began, "but I don't
know that there's time-"

"Of course there's time," Sorvin interrupted. "We sit down to a meal
this time every day. As you can see, our table's large; making room
for three more will not be a problem."

Of course they didn't have time, it was far too precious. Cian?n felt that
they didn't have the luxury to have dinner but also understood the
precarious position in which they found themselves. It was thin ice to say
the least.

OOC: TBC....

"Mopping Up"

Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia

Corporal Samantha Beckett (NPC)

Various other NPCs

<Town of Bralt>

Corporal Samantha Beckett fired off a quick three-shot burst before ducking
back behind the cover of the nearby building. "What's the plan, sir?!" she
yelled over the noise of the battle, looking at Man'darr who also finished
firing off a burst.

"Cover me!" Man'darr said as he lept around the corner of the building and
sprinted to the next building as fast as his legs could carry him. The heat
from two nearby disruptor shots didn't register as they nearly missed him.
His adrenaline was running high with the start of combat--as a capellan, he
thrived on the thrill of combat.

"Shit!" Samantha said as she took a kneel and opened fire in a steady burst
as Man'darr sprinted forward.

Hitting the other building, Man'darr fired a quick three burst shot before
taking a spare energy cell from his ammo pouch and removing it from its
protective casing and tossed it at the building. The energy cell landed at
the base of the building. Man'darr swung around the corner again and took
quick aim at the energy cell firing once. The phaser found its mark as the
unshielded energy cell exploded, collapsing the wall. Before the heat and
dust cleared, Man'darr lept through the hole in the wall and into the
building. Several of the resistant colonists were on the ground either dead
or badly wounded.

>From behind him, a colonist jumped on Man'darr's back. Man'darr slammed his
back against a nearby wall, causing the man to cry out in pain as he fell to
the floor before Man'darr drove his heel into the man's chest, crushing his
ribs, causing them to puncture his lungs, instantly filling them with blood
as the man began to suffocate on his own blood.

Man'darr looked up at two more colonists rushing him with knives. Man'darr
raised his rifle and fired off one shot and slamming the side of the rifle
against the other's head, crushing the man's skull and breaking his own
rifle in the process. He tossed the useless rifle to the ground as another
man rushed at him. The man flew through the air as picked the man up and
threw him hard against the nearby wall. Soon the rest of Man'darr's platoon
rushed forward into the building. "Search the rest of the building to make
sure its clear," he ordered as he walked over to the man he had thrown
against the wall, who was trying to catch his breath. "You're under
arrest," Man'darr said with a grin as he firmly placed his foot on the man,
pinning him to the floor.

Samantha looked at the scene and then at Man'darr. "Sure, hog all the fun,
sir," she grinned.

The platoon medic did not need to check the man Man'darr had crushed with
his heel as he had stopped breathing--his medical tricorder telling him the
cause of death. "This man's chest was crushed...he suffocated on his own
blood," the medic reported.

"He was an enemy and trying to kill us, Sergeant. He is a casualty of war,"
Man'darr stated firmly as two members of his platoon shackled the man
Man'darr had pinned to the floor. He then tapped his commbadge. "Captain
Maivia to Galaxy. The resistance has been dealt with and we have one
prisoner, ready for transport."

The man soon dematerialized in a swirl of blue light as the Galaxy
transported him aboard.

"The building is cleared, sir," Corporal Beckett replied as she approached
Man'darr.

"Good. Lets continue with the evacuation," he stated as he exited the
building.

OOC Note: Backpost. For reference, this takes place about an hour after 'Fault' with Branwen & Dhanishta.

"State of Mind"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Lieutenant Branwen London

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ USS Galaxy ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ I've either got to stop pissing people off, or just stop talking to them! ~ Kimberly decided as she got off the turbolift.
Terrans had a saying that the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and while her own beliefs didn't agree with the existence
of hell, the sentiment though was an appropriate on at times. Twice now she had opened her mouth and managed to annoy people to the
extent that they weren't seeing her regarding medical issues.

Okay, Dhani wasn't exactly the safest person to have around the medical equipment for different reasons, but Branwen was a different
matter. Tapping on the door chime she waited for the marine to answer, looking down at the PADD she held as she did she had to
wonder why she had felt the need to see someone other than a local physician for this.

"Branwen!" She called out after a moment of waiting, "open the door!" she ordered sternly.

Bran came to the door, her eyes still red-rimmed from crying. She had been wearing circles in the carpet worrying about Dhani and
Dar. What if Dhani went to Dar and he hurt her too.

"Kimberly? This really is not a good time you know." She wiped her face.

Seeing the worried and tear streaked face before her Kimberly's mind switched track in a heartbeat and she took a slow breath,
"Branwen, what's up?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Dar." She whispered. "Dar pushed me into the wall because I made him angry. And now Dhani thinks he did it on purpose, I am
afraid she has gone to him in the brig to start a fight. I ruined his career, Kimberly." She continued to pace still sporting a
splitting headache.

Letting that statement roll around in her head a moment Kimberly wondered just where to start. She had been aware of the injuries,
the medical report had listed 'what' had happened, though exactly 'how' had been a little vague. What she had picked up though had
concerned her enough to come and visit. Now though...

"Start from the beginning Branwen, tell me what happened." Kimberly asked as she stepped in and put an arm around the obviously
distraught marine.

And Branwen started telling her the whole story. How she went to Max for medical advice because she did not want to trouble
Kimberly, what the outcome had been, and how the surgeon Max had brought in refused to do the surgery. Then she told Kimberly about
the frantic conversation with Dar in the hallway, that had resulted in him throwing her into the bulkhead. "I just landed
awkwardly, it wasn't really his fault. And now the Colonel has put me under house arrest, and Dar in the Brig. And Dhani is angry
with him, and has gone to talk to him I fear." She finished breathlessly ten minutes later.

Listening patiently Kimberly found herself wondering just where to start! Landed awkwardly, not his fault, house arrest. ~ Whew! ~
she sighed to herself, ~ what to say first? ~

"Branwen," she started slowly, trying to choose her words carefully, "firstly, as soon as we've had a chat I'll head down to the
brig and check everything down there is ok," she assured her, "there are guards in the brig area though and I'm sure they'll make
sure nothing untoward happens," ~ I hope! ~ she added silently, remembering Dhani's 'other' talents, telekinesis for instance. "In
the meantime, could you tell me why 'you' are under house arrest when 'he' assaulted you?"

"Because I defended him. I told the Colonel that I walked into a door, and he took that very badly." Branwen said honestly. "He's
my husband, I have to try to protect him, especially as it was all my fault. I should never have caused him to lose his temper."

"Branwen, why did you lie?" Kimberly asked gently. "No matter what you said there's no justification for him attacking you.
Arguments are a natural part of a relationship, no one can ever agree all the time, but there's absolutely no reason for an
assault."

"In my vows I promised to love and obey. His career is very important to him, and he is from a very dominant male society. I knew
that calling him a coward would hurt his honour, if I had been thinking clearly, I would have known in this would be so painful for
him. And that makes it mean what I did. So I deserve what I got in my book. It did make him realise that he does have some anger
issues. I tried to talk to him about it before, and the Colonel. Neither would really listen. I'll at least he has promised to
see one of the ship's therapists about it. I just hope it's not too late to save his career."

Gently guiding Branwen to a chair Kimberly sat her down as she considered what to say next, barely married and there were already
major issues. "Branwen. Agreed his career is likely very important to him, and agreed he is from a different society, but he has to
understand you aren't from his world also. You may have vowed to love and obey, but what did he vow? If I recall doesn't it go
something like love and protect? Or something like that?"

"Yes he did. And I don't think it ever going to happen again, especially now that he has to get counselling. Last year has been
tough on him, I wish people would see that. And I am not naive, or a victim. I have combat training, if he ever tried again I
would hit back, I promise you that. I have been beaten up enough in my life. But still I don't see this is his fault, and the
Colonel should have stayed out of our private affairs."

"Do you have any idea what the Colonel is going to do about this?" Kimberly asked, "Technically he is well within his rights to be
concerned, especially when his XO of all people reacts like that."

"He had Dar thrown into the brig, so I'm not really optimistic." Branwen said. "But it was a private matter, I don't think he
would ever hurt the marines serving under him. It's not fair to judge somebody because of their private life. I appreciate him
being concerned, but it should stop there, or he could have listened before. His kind always act when it is too late."

"Branwen, anyone has a right to be concerned when someone is attacked just because of an insult," rubbing her own arm gently,
remembering how she had been on the receiving end of an impulsive punch because of an insult. She recalled just how trivial it had
seemed then, this though was worse, he was her husband, and that sort of thing shouldn't be tolerated. "I would imagine the Colonel
stepped in because it was one officer assaulting another, as well as a husband assaulting his wife. As the Marine XO he should have
a little more self control than that don't you think? Plus, who else's fault is it? No one moved his arm for him did they?"

"No. But if I had not been so worried about my health, I would have thought more clearly, and not provoked him." Branwen sighed.
"This should be the most happy time of my life, and between your department and my husband they managed to pretty well f% k it up
right now."

"That was what I came here to discuss actually," Kimberly admitted, "though it's not 'my' department, rather the person you went to
because for some reason you felt you couldn't talk to me?" Placing her PADD on the small table near them she looked at Branwen with
a raised eyebrow. "What in the name of the Goddess made you think 'I' couldn't or wouldn't help?" She asked with a trace of
frustration. "I'm still the Chief Medical Officer of this ship, how do you think it makes me and my staff look when you go off ship
for medical advice and help?"

"You were not exactly speaking to me at the time. In fact you were actively avoiding it, and since the last time I was in your
office for professional reasons it didn't go very well. I was afraid I would offend you again somehow." Branwen blushed. "I feel
pretty vulnerable about this issue, and I didn't want to take the chance. I'm sorry, Kimberly." She finished in a whisper.

"Offend me? That you needed medical advice." Realising she did have half a point there, sort of, held her back from a sharp retort,
Branwen had enough on her plate for now. "Even so, I have a very well trained staff. Look, this is beside the point for now,
personal differences aside I swore an oath when I qualified as a doctor, and that alone says that I help you, no matter what I
think. Look, you need to speak to Colonel Arvelion, and discuss what happens next regarding you and Man'Darr, and soon. You and
'I' will have a chat soon about your medical questions. In the meantime, I would also recommend both you 'and' Man'Darr see a
counsellor, separately for now. Counsellor, you of all people should accept that recommendation. Clear."

"I already promised the surgeon that Max suggested that I would see a therapist. In fact you are very quick to judge that I haven't
been seeing somebody. I have been talking to Lieutenant Mark, I'm not stupid, Kimberly." Branwen sounded a bit offended. "And
stop treating me like I'm six years old. My health issues are very important to me right now. And it hurt me very deeply that that
woman refused to help me at first. It did nothing to change my opinion of doctors."

"Well I can't do anything about her decision for now, but that doesn't mean you don't have qualified and trained doctors aboard. As
for treating you like you are six, well I was talking about what happened recently with you and Man'Darr, not about her
recommendation. And, considering how most of the crew aboard are somewhat cavalier about physical and mental health sometimes it
never hurts to state the obvious." Standing she sighed. "I do care Branwen, as a counsellor though I have to take a step back. As
a doctor and a friend I'll always be around. Okay. But right now you should call Mark again, and the Colonel and see if you can
straighten this out before it becomes too official and all the reports are filed, and the bureaucracy lands on Man'Darr like a ton
of Latinum."

"How could Mark help with this? I have tried to talk to the Colonel but he refuses to talk to me." She said. "And since I am not
allowed to leave my quarters there isn't much I can do if he refuses to take my calls. It frustrates the hell out of me to be
honest." Branwen was finally completely frank. "Can you help? To be honest, I'm worried about my career as well, I've worked so
hard, I don't want to see it destroyed by one mistake. "

~ How can Mark help? ~ She repeated to herself, ~ I shouldn't have to explain that one. That you can't see why I suggested it is
'why' you need to see him. ~ Aloud though, "First stop is the brig, to make sure everything is okay down there," Kimberly assured
her. "After that I'll see if the Colonel has a moment to see me, however," she added holding up a hand, "I can't get involved in
this in an official capacity, but I'll ask him at least why he'll not talk to you. That sound okay to you?"

"Yes it does, thank you for helping. Although I still don't see how Mark can help with the Colonel." Branwen mused.

"You're welcome." Kimberly replied as she stepped to the door, "as for Mark, just give him a call, sit down and talk to him, okay.
I'll call you later after I've been by the brig."

"I will, I promise. And thank you, Kimberly." Branwen said.

'So Long and Thanks for All the Fish'

Lt. Jg T'Pei
Ens. Relsta (NPC)

Two weeks ago:

The short Vulcan woman floated out of the narrow passageway, her light
piercing a hole in the darkness of a great cavern. Spotting her prey in the
maze of narrow stalagmites beneath her, she slowly turned to signal
*hold*to her partner. The other woman paused, holding her fist out
palm front to
return the sign before assuming such a still position that, except for the
small stream of bubbles coming out of her regulator, she seemed to be a
horizontal mannequin.

Other than her ankles, which propelled her forward with the slightest of
rotations, the Vulcan woman was also utterly still as she moved silently
towards the almost translucent eel-like creature.

Suddenly, a blinking light invaded her peripheral vision. A signal from her
partner? Was she low on air? No, it was red light, not white, and it was
coming from a small waterproof box attached at her right hip. Starfleet.
Tiar merra. And it was red?urgent. She looked askance at the creature, now
slipping out of sight into a yawning crevice, and paused indecisively. But a
red light was a red light, and she could not ignore an urgent message from
Starfleet command.

She again flashed *hold* at her partner, and then pointed with her first
finger and thumb towards the entrance. *Exit now. *Brow crinkled with
confusion, the other woman glanced down at her pressure gauge, noting she
still had over two thirds of her air. *Problem?* she asked, crooking one
finger. The Vulcan shook her head, repeating the previous gesture.

The woman, now confused *and* annoyed, puffed out her facial ridges slightly
to express her displeasure. Regardless, if your buddy tells you to leave
now, that's what you do. She turned and began following the line that would
lead them to the entrance. Unable to verbally argue with her partner yet,
she glowered at the Vulcan for the entire hour it took them to ascend
safely.

When they finally bobbed above the surface of the lake, the Vulcan woman
briskly exited the water, and moved towards a small hovercraft, seemingly
impervious to the almost 50 kilos of gear on her back. The taller woman
followed, not nearly as gracefully, nor as quietly.

"What was that about, T'Pei? We almost had him this time!"

T'Pei deposited her tanks in the hovercraft and raised one elegant eyebrow
at her companion. Relsta was not nearly as calm and composed as most
Denobulins. Although the women had become close over the two years they had
worked on Gamma Vered II, T'Pei was used to their frequent 'discussions',
and had come to view them with some amusement, almost like verbal chess
matches.

And she never lost at chess.

"There is a message from Starfleet requiring our attention immediately. We
can return at a later date for the specimen."

"We have not heard from Starfleet in over a month. I do not see what could
be so urgent as to require us to waste a two hour dive. That was a
*new*species, T'Pei."

"Unfortunately, Relsta, our desires are not important in this case.
Following orders is." She paused for a beat. "Surely as a Starfleet officer
you understand that."**

Lapsing into silence, T'Pei began to pilot them towards the facility at the
top of the hill that served as their home and laboratory. Glancing over, she
noted that her companion's facial ridges remained puffed, a sure sign of
continued displeasure, but waited patiently, knowing Relsta would continue.
She didn't have to wait long.

"You know, it was rather cute, don't you think? It looked a bit like a mix
between a Klabnian eel and a Draxxan cloud viper. He would have been a great
addition to the tank by the window."

"I do not understand why it is that your people feel that every animal, even
scientific specimens, must be treated as pets."

"We do not ever see anyone else on this planet other than that Klingon
fisherman, and that is from a distance. In addition, I haven't seen either
of my husbands for two years, nor am I likely to get another husband any
time soon." She paused and shot T'Pei a grumpy but good-natured smirk. "I
cannot speak for others, but personally, I have found that the animals are
more sociable than *some* individuals I might mention..."

T'Pei decided not to deign that with a response and began to disassemble her
gear, purging the remaining air from the hoses and unscrewing the first
stages of the regulators. Relsta, quite used to being ignored, and
considering it a sign of victory, concluded her speech energetically.

"...and anyway, you had a pet growing up, so Vulcans must like animals!" She
dumped her mask and fins into a large tub of water, as if to emphasize her
point.

T'Pei sighed.* *"Vulcan children have sehlets to teach them responsibility?"

"Same as Denobulan children!"

"?and respect for nature."

"So, you are telling me that you never rubbed his head, or talked to him, or
anything?"

"Rubbing the head of sehlet would be as unwise as sleeping under a tree with
an arboreal needle snake. Furthermore, I do not see how this is germane to a
discussion of your habit of befriending every specimen we collect."

This round of needing T'Pei wasn't as satisfying as Relsta had hoped. Time
for a change of tactics.

"So, if it was important enough to turn the dive, why aren't you rushing off
to read your message?"

And there it was. Checkmate.* *"Indeed, that does seem logical. I trust you
can finish rinsing the gear in my absence." With that, T'Pei turned on her
heel, leaving a sputtering Relsta with a hose amidst the mountain of diving
gear.
*************************************************

The flashing light caught T'Pei's attention when she entered the lab.
Walking over to the computer, she clicked on the Starfleet logo to open the
transmission. She blinked. Twice.

Ten minutes later, Relsta entered the room to find T'Pei still staring
thoughtfully at one of the animal cages.

"Once you read the message, you could have come back out to help, you know."
T'Pei didn't respond. "So...what was the message that was more important
than finishing our dive?"

T'Pei arched an eyebrow and turned the monitor without responding. Then she
abruptly stood and walked to the door.

"Wait, T'Pei, I was only joking?where are you going?"

"To pack."

Relsta's eyes widened and she quickly looked down at the screen.

*The Federation is evacuating the Vered Cluster due to imminent threat of
Hydran invasion. Lieutenant T'Pei and Ensign Relsta are to report to New
B'Hala for evacuation in 12 days. You will assist in the evacuation, and
will return to the USS Galazy, at which time you will receive reassignment
orders. *

"Third Time's a Charm"

By
Detective Lt. Robert West, Chief Investigator, USS Galaxy

"We've picked up a weirdo..." the stocky, pale-faced shuttle helmsman
muttered to his crewmate.

"Don't I know it." the taller, deep-voiced ensign replied, "And he's
not even *interesting*. You'd think with the laundry list this guy
has for neuroses that he'd be a little more fun to be around. At
least as far as sheer entertainment value goes."

"Why, exactly, has he shut himself in the bathroom again?"

"Because..." a muffled voice from the back of the craft replied,
"because of the...the WINDOW! There's...there's SPACE out there!"

Detective Lieutenant Robert "Kojak" West stood just inside the
entryway of the small stall, door shut and eyes closed. It was the
only way to be absolutely sure he didn't catch a glimpse of the black
expanse of space. Some would say that closing one's eyes while inside
an already windowless room would be overkill, but Robert knew better.
Space was sneaky like that. It would be *just like* space to suddenly
appear inside a closed-off room, and it certainly wasn't going to
catch *him* off guard.

Indeed, few things ever did.

The most brilliant detective to ever grace the halls of Starfleet HQ,
Robert West held the record for consecutive cases-closed without a
miss. A record that was still ongoing. His observational and
deductive reasoning skills could stand toe-to-toe with any
straight-faced Vulcan and best them. His mind calculated all possible
outcomes to any set of circumstances, and he read people like books.
In any other case, Robert would have been on the fast-track to
commanding the whole of starfleet's investigative department.

The problem was, Robert's case was the only one he couldn't close.

Robert's powers of deductive reasoning came at a rather heavy price.
Paranoid beyond all measure, Robert was a walking conundrum. Skiddish
around phasers, he was nonetheless a perfect shot...when his eyes were
closed. Deathly afraid of space, women, and most other people in
general, he suspected *everyone* of being capable of committing a
crime, a possition only enforced by what he had seen in his years of
service. It was impossible to sneak up on Robert. Not because he
could hear you coming, but because he never went more than five
seconds without taking a 360 degree glance around him.

His remarkable and unmatched record of service not withstanding, the
brass at Starfleet HQ finally snapped. West was driving them crazy.

He was too valuable to release, so they came up with an interesting
plan: Put the man afraid of space, in space.

Theoretically, what Starfleet was trying to accomplish was to expose
Robert to his greatest fear and have him overcome it, possibly
breaking his other problems in the process. No counsellor yet could
treat the man, and the hope was that direct contact with it might
shock him out of his neurosis.

3 transfers later, no such luck, but his biggest problem wasn't a fear
of the void.

Normally socially akward, with a tendancy to stammer and speak softly
around people, Robert became cold and calculating when face with a
dedective reasoning challenge. On the job, he was no-nonsense and
very matter of fact. His mind tended to fire off random observations
and regurgitate the conclusions drawn, and they usually ended up
coming right out of his mouth without a second thought, regardless of
the embarrasment it might cause to others. The problems came when he
was angered. Displaying a sort of shift in personality that was
extreme even for schitzos, Robert became an unbelievably pompous ass
when irritated. Turning into his own private Mr. Hyde. It was always
very short-lived, and after reverting back to his Dr. Jekyll he
usually spent the next several minutes appologizing to everyone he had
just offended.

Of course, none of this mattered a wit to the helmsman of the shuttle,
who just wanted Robert to be *interesting*.

"Don't we have his file around here someplace?"

"Yeah, its on my PADD," deep-voice answered, "...now where the hell
did I put it?"

"Turn to your....your left. Look downward. Should be...be about 2
meters away." Robert's voice came from the stall.

"Hey! How about *that*! How the hell did he know that? He's been in
the stall the whole time!"

"Simple, Ensign Fremont," the stall-voice replied, "You are
left...left handed, and you were...were holding the PADD when I came
in...in here. No doubt you put it...it down on the small counter
to...to your left...left when you required both hands to pull off
that...that rather sharp hard to...to port maneuver five...five
minutes ago."

"Wow man, hey this guy isn't too bad. Lets have some fun eh Bill?
Ok, ok, I'm thinking of a number between one and fifty-billion...."

"Oh damn, I just flew right past the shipyard, hold on guys."

As the shuttle made a fast 180 degree turnaround, several clanging
sounds could be heard near the back of the craft.

"Hey! HEY! WHAT THE...."

Spilling out onto the deck with a rather aurally satisfying *thud*,
Robert held still on the ground for a few moments to allow the pain to
dull before pulling himself up and turning towards the shuttle pilots.

"What the HELL are
you...you......you......................you.............y..................ou.................................y..
............................................................"

Outside the window, Robert could see it. The expanse was dark with
small, white dots littering its canvas. It was endless, sinister,
plotting, and it was eternal.

And Robert stared at it, eyes wide.

And it stared at him.

And he stared at it.

And it right back.

"Oh damn....I....I think we broke him...." Ensign Fremont whispered.

And neither one moved. Space, nor Robert. Locked in an endless game
of chicken. It was waiting, he knew...waiting for him to blink, to
let his guard down. He wasn't going to lose. He knew this game.
This was how space *liked* to opperate.

"So.......", the Ensign offered, "...where are we supposed to drop

"Road to Glory-Part One"

Ensign Miquelan Dar'ce
featuring
Ensign Trevan Isar

=Six Months Ago=

It had been about a week since he had awoken from the dream called Rh'dan. His life had gone from upper class to pauper in about a century, and his family had paid for his arrogance. Miquelan had spent the better part of the week trying to forget the incident, but knew that he never would. Eidetic memories were like that, and he guessed it would take time to deal with the new memories that he had.

As he was beginning his day, he found that he had a communiqu? from Starfleet Command, specifically, the Personnel Office. Opening it, he read through the script and sighed. Obviously his father had heard of the incident on Barzan. He had pulled the right strings, and had had Miquelan reassigned to the Starfleet Liaison office on Xenon Prime. How like him.

Miquelan was on his way out of his quarters to report for duty on the Galaxy when his communicator beeped. =/\=Ensign Dar'ce, report to the Personnel office immediately.=/\=

He probably wouldn't get another day on the ship. Most likely, DS5 had already sent a shuttle to get him, and he would be on Xenon Prime in less than a week. He made his way to Personnel and walked right in, being expected and all.

"Ah, Ensign, nice to see you again, so soon. As you may have already been notified, you are being transferred off the ship to a posting a bit less dangerous. Apparently the liaison office on Xenon Prime is in need of a good tactical officer."

The sarcasm oozing from the Personnel Officer was sickening. Dar'ce knew what the man thought, and was about to tell him where he could stick his opinions, but instead just let loose with the truth.

"I'm a tactical officer, as you pointed out. I am in no way needed or expected on a liaison post. My father, who sits on the Command Council of the High Guard, apparently heard about our recent mission to Barzan. HE was the one that pulled the strings, and HE was the one that decided I needed to transfer. The first I heard of it was this morning. So, Chief, you can take your condescending sarcasm and shove it out of the nearest airlock."

'Well,' Miq decided, 'it couldn't hurt to tell him off anyway.'

That afternoon he was on a shuttle home.

=Two weeks later=

Miquelan and his cousin, Trevan Isar, were sitting behind their desks at the Starfleet Liaison office, tossing things at each other with their minds, when their grandfather walked in. Everyone stood when the Emperor entered the room, but Miquelan and Trevan just sat there glowering.

~Let's take a walk, boys.~ The elder Xenonian had said this privately, telepathically.
Miquelan and Trevan stood and followed him out of the building.

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

"Son's, you are throwing away your lives, here. Your chance to positively affect the Republic is gargantuan compared to the insignificant effect your service to the Federation may have. You two are being given the opportunity to be leaders of the Republic."

Trevan had had enough of his family's toying with his life. "Grandfather, we would be rulers in name only. The throne of Emperor is just a ceremonial position, regardless of the power that it gives you. You cannot expect us to rule in your stead."
Miquelan broke in. "Grandfather, I'm not going to play politics. I joined went to the High Guard Military Academy, and I went to the Zackdorn Tactical Academy. It isn't like I jumped into Starfleet with my eyes closed. I know what I want to do, and it is not political. I want to command a starship..."

"You can command a High Guard ship. With the experience the two of you have, you could each have a command in less than two years."

The two young officers rolled their eyes, having heard those words many times before. Trevan spoke for them both. "We are Starfleet Officers. We work on Federation starships, not High Guard ships. Xenon is a member of the Federation, grandfather, in case you forgot. That is where our loyalty lies."

"Your loyalty lies with Xenon!" The elder Isar yelled, then reverted to telepathy. ~The two of you have been trained in the Xandar Arts. Trevan, you survived all ten years. Miquelan, you lasted for seven. Trevan you are my successor, regardless of your thoughts on the matter. Miquelan, you are to be his Primary Advisor. You will not be returning to the Federation fleet. If you stay in Starfleet, you will rot away in that liaison office. There is no more to discuss.~

"That's right grandfather," replied Miquelan. "There is no more to discuss. We've decided to resign from Starfleet, but we aren't going to join the Xenonian political scene. We're leaving the planet, and if you try to stop us, we'll use force. And that, Sire, would be bad for Xenonian public relations."

The two had no intention of resigning from Starfleet, but they had agreed to take an extended leave of absence in the case that their families tried to force them to stay on the planet. If their grandfather probed their minds, he would figure that out, but he wouldn't force a mind probe on his own family.

"Then that's it, then. You would divorce yourself from your entire family. Know this, then, young ones. This family can no longer protect you, and will no longer provide you with aide. You are both cut off, and my sons will be instructed in the same. You are dad to me."

The Xenonian Emperor, impressive as he was, looked a bit more hunched over as he walked away from his progeny.

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

=Three weeks later=

Trevan piloted the old shuttle toward the starship graveyard, deftly dodging the ghosts of battles past. There was an old Horma'sis-class destroyer, there a Man'de'har Eekarah-class interceptor. The shuttle went between an old Q-9 class cargo cruiser and the once-famous Cruise Liner XT-Vorinis. Miquelan's hand shot up, pointing to port.

"I told you it was here. There's not much left of it, though. Think we can get her running?"

Trevan looked at the wreck of the Indiri-built Kleviath-class ship and then back to his cousin. "Well, we have the money to buy the parts, and the team to redesign her. I think we could have the old girl flying in a few months."

"Grandfather would be so proud."

"Smelling Salts"

by
Detective Lt. Robert West, Chief Investigator

There was only blackness for the longest time. Not an evil blackness,
for sure, but more of a calming dissolve into absolute nothing that no
light could penetrate. It was quiet here. No noises, no voices, not
even wind. It was the kind of blackness one could collect one's
thoughts in, to contemplate the meaning of existance.

But that was silly, wasn't it? The meaning of existance was
irrelevant. The point was that it was *here* and you cope with it how
best you can. It wasn't something to spend your time thinking on with
any kind of seriousness, was it?

"....wake up...."

Hold on....something different....something new. A whisper? No,
there were no voices here, not in the vastness of nothing. And
yet...something was different...something seemed....off.

"...damn it man, wake up...."

Even the darkness began to seem more sinister...more evil, in a way.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, this was wrong. Oh God,
whats happening? What am I *doing*? WHERE AM IT??? WHAT THE HELL IS
GOING ON????????????????? IT'S GOING TO WIN!!!! IT'S GOING TO GET
ME!!!!!

"WEST!!!! WAKE UP DAMMIT!!!!"

It was an odd scene on the shuttle, and no one had been left without
an invitation. Hazmat, Marines, Emergency Medical Staff, half the
starbase counselling department, no less than 2 off-duty command
officers, the janitorial crew for decks 11 through 17, and a poor sap
who had just drunkenly stumbled in from the cantina thinking the door
lead to his quarters.

And at the center of it all, was West. Still staring out the window,
into the very pit of hell.

"Ok, this isn't working..." came a counsellor's voice.

"Should we pick him up and move him?" a marine suggested.

"No! It might shatter the illusion and do more harm than good! Can
we sedate him?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," a med student responded, checking his
tricorder, "His vitals are....HOLY HELL, I didn't know the human
cardiovascular system could DO that!"

"Well just what the hell are we supposed to DO then?"

"We've got some industrial cleaner," a janitor offered, "pretty strong
stuff...maybe it could work sort of like smelling salts?"

"What is this, a Renfest? Take your voodoo medicine elsewhere
please." the med student scoffed.

"Excushhhhhse meeeee," came a slurred voice from the back, "but it
sheems to ME, that mebbe all thish here feller needs is a quick
shhhhot of whiskey, an' I jus' HAPPEN to have a bit left on meh."

The crowd turned to acknowledge the drunken man.

"Objections?" a commander asked.

"None here." from the med student.

"Seems ok to me." the Counsellor replied.

"Done. Bring it on over."

The flask was dirty, tattered, and smelled vaguely of piss, but no one
seemed to mind, since they weren't going to be the ones drinking out
of it.

The consellor took the vile container, opened the top, and pressed it
to Robert's open mouth. Instinctively, he swallowed a gulp of the
liquid, immediately closed his eyes, took exactly
three-and-one-quarter steps forward, made a sound not unlike what
might be emitted by a bunny rabbit caught in a wheat thresher, and
promptly collapsed to the floor.

Seconds passed...no one dared move.

"Is he.....is he *dead*?"

"I...I don't know...let me check...."

Suddenly, Robert sprang upright, opened his eyes, and surveyed the
people around him, fixed his gaze on the station Commander, and spoke.

"Detective Lieutenant Robert West reporting....reporting as requested.....sir."

"Gunboat diplomacy"

The Dreshayans were an excitable race of people.

Always ready to go and blow the latest news waaaay out of proportion.

The antlike scurrying back and forth across the face of their tiny world was
a study in a society of worriers (not warriors?.worry-ers) and egotist with
inflated sense's of self worth.

They were masters of their own destiny.

They were un-challengeable in the affairs of state.

Had they not recently brought the mighty Federation to heel in the matter of
governorship of the Vered Cluster?

Had they not negotiated a treaty with the enigmatic Hydrans to their own
benefit?

Did they not stand to inherit the richness of the Vered Cluster in a matter
of weeks?

Imagine their shock then when a Starfleet Battlecruiser decided to park
itself in low orbit over their capitol city.

"They're calling again." said Fear with a muffled yawn.

"Want to put them on hold again Captain?" Asked Panic.

Captain Rebecca von Ernst sat cross-legged in her too-large Command Chair,
hunched low over a piece of cross-stitching that she had been working on.

Christmas was coming up, and the little needle-point puppy-dog would look so
cute in Momma's kitchen back in Minnesota.

"Anything new in their demands?" she asked without looking up.

"Oh the usual??" said Fear. "Bow before the might of their hundred ship
navy?..vacate their sovereign territory forthwith or feel their wrath??the
usual."

"They have a hundred ship Navy?" Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at the
young pair of officers behind her?.the only bridge crew needed to run the
mighty Zeus.

"Oh sure." replied Panic, "That is if you count shuttle pods and workbees as
ships of the line?.then yeah I'd say about 100 or so ships."

"I'm not worried about them latching on and unbolting our hull plates with
workbees??..anything important to be concerned about?"

Fear smiled.

Panic smiled.

The USS Zeus was a modern Federation Battlecruiser, bristling with weaponry
and able to devastate the Dreshayan home world in under an hour. There was
nothing the Dreshayans could even begin to mobilize against her.

"No ma'am." said Fear.

"I'll keep an eye on the shuttle pods nonetheless. "said Panic.

~~Noodle heads.~~ Rebecca turned back to her cross-stitching. The two
helpers had turned the Zeus's snow-white bridge into an model of command
efficiency??.but occasionally their snarkyness was irritating.

Having sustained minor damage in the recent run-in with the Hydran Scouting
force, the Zeus had anchored in the Dreshayan gravity well to conduct
repairs.

Galaxy and the vulnerable transports were still lingering in the Vered
cluster, and as such Zeus was charged with running interference against any
Hydran strike force looking for a fat juicy cargo ship to target.

"News blip from the Galaxy." Fear announced, "Seems to be some unrest on
some of the colonies??people are taking pot shots at Marines?..oh that's not
smart."

"Dummies." Panic yawned, "Why don't they mass transport up the whole bunch?
Take 'em two days?.tops. We wouldn't be stuck here trying to fight with our
foot in a bucket guarding transports."

Rebecca ignored her officers idle chit-chat, and added a tiny red ribbon to
her cross-stitch puppy dog.

Fear and Panic always were a little bit blood thirsty, but that's why they
had been picked for this assignment.

Rebecca had blood aplenty to offer them.

"The midgets are calling again." Fear said, "Stating something about this
being their sovereign territory ?blah blah blah?.and this not being part of
the bargain. They're threatening to call Admiral Megarex."

Fear paused. "Did we make a bargain with them that I don't know about?"

Captain von Ernst shrugged. She cared very little what the Dreshayans
thought, or what Megarex had to say on the matter. Her job was to run
interference and there was very little to be said about how she did it.

"The bargain is we anchor here and finish up our repairs and they sit there
and smile, thank ful that we don't turn their northern continent into
toast." she said.

Fear and panic blinked and looked at each other?The captain had a nasty
streak in her at times. Good thing ZEUS was never called upon to perform
Diplomacy.

A light on the panel buzzed.

"Outgoing encoded transmission again." Panic announced. "I think they're
trying to tell the Hydran fleet where we are?..should I jam?"

"Let 'em ." Rebecca stretched. "If they know we're here, they may come after
us instead of Galaxy and the transports."

"Oh?..and when they get here?"

"Simple??we kill em."

"Turn them into toast? Simple as that captain?"

Rebecca tapped her noggin. "Simple as that Panic."

"Stakeholders"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Shin Takashi
Executive Administrator, Lambda Vered I (Omar)

* * * Zanthus City * * *

Saul watched the cityscape from the fancy dinning room, letting his mind
rest from the excruciating discussions with the corporate officials.
Commander Qem-Mber and the elegantly-dressed diplomats from the liaison
corps were more skillful than he had expected, but anyone who spent a week
with corporate types could see that the dinner and the 'negotiations' were a
facade.

He waited patiently until he saw that Shin Takashi was momentarily left
alone. Pouncing on the opportunity, Saul put down his plate on the buffet
table and approached the executive.

"I'm Saul, I'm the guy you want to talk to." He told Takashi once he got the
executive attention. He then tilted his head toward a door on the far end of
the hall. "Anywhere we can get some privacy?"

Takashi regarded Saul with a blank expression, learned from years of hard
business negotiations and boring board room meetings...not to mention a few
other unsavory dealings. He simply nodded and motioned for Saul to follow
him. He preferred the controlled settings of an antechamber that was
specially prepared for eventualities like this. Catching the attention of a
Security Agent, Shin made an almost imperceptible motion with the hand that
was opposite the the side Saul walked on.

The Agent made no move until they passed, then tapped a control on his
CommPADD, which wirelessly activated the listening and defensive devices in
the antechamber. Hollingston took nothing for granted, and were prepared
for any eventuality they could dream up.

Saul strolled lazily after the executive, making sure he is not followed.

"Tea?" Takashi asked, breaking his silence finally since Saul approached
him. He motioned to the platinum and silver serving set on the small table
in the room. "It's kukicha roasted tea. Appropriate for these
circumstances, don't you agree?" His soft voice belied the keen fierce
force of intellect and cunning that lurked behind it.

"*Arigato Gozaymas*." Saul replied, taking the cup and blowing on the hot
liquid. "I agree. Though, I suspect the people on the other room need it
more dearly than us."

Shin chuckled and replied, "Indeed. I think I should remember that at my
next board meeting." He thought about how easily he could poison this man,
but then again, that would serve no purpose here. No, this Saul Bental was
here to talk business, and business is what they were all about here.

Saul took a sip from the tea. It was splendid.

"So what compensation will be appropriate for you to leave the Vered Cluster
willingly?"

"To the point, I like that," Shin answered, his tone matching the approval
of his words. "However, it is a bit more complicated than a matter of
complication. We have...vested interests here, and we cannot simply just
pick up and leave. I am sure you can understand this, as I sense you have
the gene for business within you."

Truth be told, Shin always knew when someone had an aptitude for
business...or was simply a rude person when they got right down to business
in a one on one situation. In the case of Bental, Shin banked on the
former.

"Of course you can pick up and leave." Saul shrugged. "It's only a matter of
how much this frontier operation is worth to the corporation. I agree that
this city and this planet make a very nice investment, but everything has
its price. Also, there's something to consider beyond the net worth and
prospective profits of this operation."

"Pick up and leave," Shin repeated, as if tasting a strange dish for the
very first time. "Picking up and leaving is something done by those who are
not...established in their place. As you can see," he added, his arms
outstretched as if to encompass something more than what was in that room,
"we are firmly entrenched here."

Shin walked over to an end table, which had placed on it a small Zen
garden. He began raking the sand very slowly around the stone.

"This city and planted do indeed make a nice investment, however our
investment is in what the people here and their parents, even grandparents
have put in here. There is no price for that, Lieutenant." He stopped
tending to the Zen garden and paused.

He suddenly turned and came within arm's length of his guest and looked him
squarely in the eye.

"What exactly is there to consider beyond the net worth and prospects of
this operation? Or better yet, what exactly are you trying to say?"

The Dutchman's lips curled upwards.

"Hollingston is a corporation based on Federation members, mister Takashi,
and according to the numbers I have many of the deals and holdings it has
are within the Federation. If Hollingston decides to defy the government's
decisions and resist the evacuation there will be sanctions. These sanctions
could be more painful than losing this planet. I'm saying this as a fact,
not as a threat. You don't expect the corporation to go against the UFP and
that everything will be 'business as usual' back home."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Bental?" Shin however, did not seem perturbed
at all at hearing this statement from the Intel man. In fact, he very well
expected it. "I think that any adverse action from the Federation would be
most unwise. While we do most of our business with you, we also have
interests...elsewhere." At that, the white haired Asian smiled, belying his
otherwise youthful appearance with the years of boardroom cutthroat tactics
that he had honed into a mastered ability.

Saul shrugged. "It's not a threat. It's a detail that I think should be on
the table. And while I know the corporation's interest span well outside
Federation borders, burning bridges with the Federation will cause
considerable loss. Not to mention affecting employee morale."

Saul observed the corporate executive. The man had to appear confident in
order to attain the best bargaining position, but Saul began to suspect that
his insistence not to strike a deal with the Federation was based on
something Saul wasn't aware of; Otherwise, Takashi would make a demand
already, no matter how unpractical or exaggerated it was.

Then again, expert negotiators knew that he who brings the first offer to
the table puts himself in disadvantage. Perhaps that was it?

"But that's not the result we want to achieve. What we want to achieve is
the Vered cluster being evacuated with the corporation receiving appropriate
compensation. I'm here to determine, with you, what will be that
compensation. Within the reasonable and practical limits of course."

He was handing Takashi a little too much rope. Screw it. He'll cut the man's
gains in the little details once Takashi starts presenting his demands.

Before Bental could get his answer, a small light flashed near the door.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, I must attend to something. Please, have some more
tea if you wish." Giving a short bow, Takashi added, "This will only take a
moment." With that, he smoothly exited the room, leaving Saul alone for a
moment.

"Thank you."

Saul's relaxed posture did not alter as Takashi left the room. He lazily
observed the walls and furniture, entertaining himself with guessing where
the concealed sensors, recording devices and weapons were. He identified
two, but dismissed them as decoys; The corporate probably used Orion-made
devices, which were embedded into the walls.

Takashi returned with more or less the same expression, but there seemed to
be something else...

"Well, it would seem that there has been an incident or two in one of the
other colonies," Takashi reported. "There was a young boy killed, as well
as a Starfleet Marine." Then without skipping a beat, continued with, "A
compensation package that would be appropriate is listed on this PADD." He
pulled out a black PADD from his suit pocket and held it out for Bental.

"Not our problem." Saul replied casually taking the PADD. His eyes darted
left and right for about a minute, and then he returned it to Takashi.

"Tax breaks - you'll receive. An alternative planet of similar class, far
enough from harm's way - yes. Latinum - not as much as you request here. But
three planets? That much Latinum? And immunity from anti-trust? This
operation isn't worth half of what you're asking, Not even a third. And
that's even without mentioning the sanction. First bid's too high."

The offer was outrageous. Saul grinned inwardly. The game was on.

Again, no change in posture or emotion from Takashi. He simply remained
silent for a few moments, as if observing something other than Saul.
Finally, he spoke again.

"I suggest you consider the bid once again, Mr. Bental. You do not know
what I know."

"Then tell me what I ought to know. Because right now what I have in my hand
is so unreasonable I'm ashamed to show it to my superiors."
"Mr. Bental," Shin said in a grave tone, "What I know and cannot share with
you would seriously change the balance of things both economic and political
in this cluster." It wasn't a lie, as what Hollingston was willing to allow
their people on that colony to live and die for was extremely valuable...and
in the case of that colony, very bountiful. And Shin wanted to be at the
helm when they blew the market wide open.

"Now, I would extend a welcome to tour the planet, however with recent
developments, it would be wise to limit your sphere of access. I'm sure you
can understand our security concerns. Both for us and yourselves." Shin's
posture, however clearly transmitted that he wanted them to leave.

"I don't see why we should let the foolish few affect us."

Saul, however, could get a hint. He stood up, extending his arm.

"I'm going to pass the offer to the relevant people, including what you
said. I'm also going to send you what I think would make a decent
compensation proposal based on what we know. If you want to convince me this
space rock is worth more you'll have to prove it."

Saul's expression said something else. It said 'You are bluffing and I am on
to you'. He wasn't sure there wasn't some truth in Takashi's words, but
either way it was best to let Takashi think Saul did not believe him.

"Of course," Takashi replied, grasping the spy's hand in a firm grip and
shake. "I do wish we met under better circumstances, as I believe you would
be a formidable adversary in the board room." Probably the truest words
that the Executive said all day. He admired a man who would stand his
ground within the parameters that he's been offered. Saul acknowledged his
words with a subtle nod.

"You may visit Zanthus city and the other townships on the 'Bright Side',"
Takashi added. "However, I must ask that you make no excursions near the
event horizon for the 'Dark Side'. I must also ask as per the Orbital
Control packet we sent your ships to remain in Geosynchronous orbit with
this side of the planet. We have sensitive operations in progress on the
other side, and...well quite frankly, we don't want our business interests
compromised, I'm sure you understand."

"I'll forward your request to the ships' Captains." Is he trying to draw
attention to the dark side on purpose, Saul wondered?

"Of course. *Sayonara*, Mr. Bental." Takashi offered a short bow before
exiting the room. Once clear of the Starfleet people, Takashi accepted a
communique from his Public Relations Administrator, Arlin Lenst. It seemed
the council meeting was suspended due to the events that were reported
earlier. He advised Lenst to return to Zanthus City and prepare a statement
for the Lambda Veredians.

Next, he connected with Jean-Claude Morvant, the Security Administrator.
Specific instructions were issued, and a chain of events were set into
motion.

"And one more thing," Shin was saying to the Head Agent. "Keep an eye on
the people from Starfleet, particularly Bental."

"The Beginning Of Acceptance"

1st Lieutenant Branwen London
Lieutenant Mark

==London's Quarters==

Bran put the call through to Mark's office after Kimberly had left. She was
lonely confined to quarters so she hoped he would have time for her today.

"Mark? Do you have time to see me today, in my quarters? The colonel has
confined me to quarters, and Kimberly suggested I talk to you."

Her doorchime rang. "Avon calling!"

When the door opened, Mark, the counselor, was standing there. "Mind if
I come in?" he asked after removing the unlit cigar from his lips. "A
little bird told me you might want to talk about something." He
flashed his most disarming smile while tucking the unsmoked stogie
into an interior jacket pocket.

"How... I was just leaving you a message." Branwen said surprised. "You
could not have come here that quick!"

"Well I was already on my way here when I got your call, that's how,"
he answered honestly indicating his commbadge.

"Did Kimberly talk to you, or the colonel?" She asked suspicious. "Or
maybe that surgeon. There are so many people who think I need counselling,
it's not even funny anymore."

He ignored her question and went on with his own. "So," Mark folded
his hands behind his back as he walked into Bran's cabin, "What's the
trouble bubble?"

"First, have a seat, and can I get you something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm fine." He suspected there was nothing alcoholic around
so there really was no point in asking.

"Since you are here, you no doubt heard what happened, the little incident
with Dar that everybody is making so much fuss about."

His eyes twinkled and his head tilted a degree or two to one side, "I
only heard there 'was' an incident but I didn't listen to any of the
details so as to not jade my opinion. Perhaps you could fill me in,
hmm?"

"Alright." She plopped down on the couch and made herself comfortable.
"Right that surgeon had just told me she was not going to operate on me
because I had 'issues'. She rolled her eyes. When I left sickbay I was
pretty distraught and I ran into Dar. He was a bit miffed that I didn't take
him along. And then he got angry that I put the mission before our
happiness. The surgeon was also angry that I let the mission come first. But
it is short notice and you know they are going to need every counselor on
that mission. I could not pull out on such short notice. My condition is not
life threatening. In fact I have lived with it for many years and it could
wait until after the mission. Dar did not see it that way. It got worse and
I called him a coward knowing that would get him mad. It did. He shoved me
against the wall and I lost my balance landing awkwardly breaking my wrist
and having a concussion. So we ended up back in sickbay. Where the colonel
found us. I lied to him, hell I was half out of it due to the painkillers
and sedatives and was only thinking about Dar's career. He grounded me and
put Dar in the brig. That is about were we stand right now. Oh I did get the
chance to talk to the surgeon again. She promised to wait on the operation
if I talked to you once. But that is not why I called you." She smiled
finally.

Mark listened to every word, watched every facial expression and bit
of body language while she spoke. There was no way a counselor could
out-counsel another counselor. Branwen made it easy to read between
the lines... and there was plenty to peruse. Before making any hasty
diagnosis he asked, "So... why 'did' you call me then."

"Kimberly was here just now. As a friend, not a counselor or doctor. But she
suggested that you could help with the colonel. I only don't understand
how.' Bran frowned. "He is so mad at me. I don't understand why, he even
seems angrier with me then with Dar."

Now pieces of the puzzle started shifting in Mark's mind. "And do you
have any idea 'why' our good Colonel Arvelion is so angry with you and
Mister Maivia?" If she didn't, he sure knew why.

"I can understand why he's angry at Dar. But I don't understand why he
pulled me from duty. Of course I am working, seeing that the platoon is
ready, and all the other preparations are in order, I cannot not work at a
time like this. But it isn't easy doing it all without leaving my quarters.
And the Colonel needs his second-in-command, he needs Dar right now. It was
a domestic dispute, he should not have become involved in the first place."

"You admitted you lied to him," Mark said calmly. "I suspect that is
what the colonel is upset about. Why didn't you tell him the truth?"

Branwen sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. I wasn't thinking
clearly at the time, I was in physical pain, and I was shattered about the
day's events. It was the first thing out of my mouth, and when I had said
it, I could not take it back. Would I have done it differently if I had
been thinking clearly, maybe, probably, the honest answer is I don't know."
She put her chin on her knees. "This is supposed to be the happiest time of
my life, my honeymoon. It doesn't feel very happy."

"Tell me, the with twenty/twenty hindsight you now have, why you think
you lied to the colonel."

Branwen remained silent for a long time. "I was afraid for Dar. He's very
sorry for what he did, and coming from a warrior culture his career is very
important to him. I was trying to protect him. I promise to obey and
protect him during my vows. Even if that means giving up my career." And
that frustrated her, Branwen had worked hard to get were she was, she loved
her work, and it was very important to her to do well.

Mark nodded once slowly. "Why would your husband, a big, bad, well
trained, warrior, Capellan, and Starfleet Marine, need protecting?
Who, on this ship, could possibly hurt him in any way?"

"The colonel by punishing him, of course."

"For shoving you?" Mark asked with a hint of suspicioun creeping into his
voice.

"Yes." She answered cautiously.

"Branwen," Mark began while starting to pace around the couch she sat
on, "Do you know the difference between a push and a shove?"

"Of course I do. He didn't mean it, and besides it was my fault for making
him angry. Yes I know you're not going to agree with me like Kimberly and
Dani. But I was there unlike you guys, alright. I no I'm not naive or
stupid."

"Let me get this straight... You called a Capellan a coward... and
lived to tell about it? Do you realize just how extraordinary that is?
Furthermore you blame yourself for making him angry? Branwen,
something is not adding up here. Is there something you're not telling
me?"

"Not that I know off." She frowned. "I think I told you everything." She was
pleasantly surprised by his reaction. She still thought Mark didn't like her
very much.

"Let's try this scenario..." Mark began pacing again, "I'm going to
start calling you names until you're angry... so angry, in fact, that
you'll start beating me up. At what point is it going to be 'okay' for
you to starting the asswhipping?"

"Well never. You are a non-combatant. I could kill you if I lost my temper,
that would be unacceptable." She stated firmly.

Mark stood directly in front of her now looming over her. "Think so...
pipsqueak?"

"Yes, I do." She said calmly. "And don't think you can make me angry,
Mark."

Mark leaned over further to be more intimidating. "So, just because
you're a combant that makes it okay for someone to push you around?
Push you hard enough to break bones and cause concussions?"

"Hell no. If he had been one of my marines or if it had happened on duty I
would have reacted differently. But this is a private problem. Besides, mister
counselor, I told you before that he has an anger management problem, but
nobody really wanted to see him fast, remember? And the colonel would not
support me at that time. Now everything is my fault."

"The only thing that's your fault is that you don't stand up for
yourself to your husband," Mark spoke quietly but with conviction.
"The only coward on this ship is you." He pointed right in her face.

"That is your personal opinion, Mark. I think I am not the only one to
blame. I tried to get him help. He will go now, but it is a bit late. I did
what I could. It is not a wife's place to make her husband's life difficult.
I already push way too much."

"No Branwen," Mark stood straight again, "That's my 'professional' opinion."

"Well thank you. We both know that you don't like me." She looked at him
over the top of her knees.

"Not true," he wagged a warning finger at her, "What I 'don't' like,
however, is a counselor that can't see the forest through the trees.
You 'do' have issues 'but' you're too wrapped up in everything else to
see them. How can you expect to help anyone when you can't even help
yourself?"

"I do know I have issues." She tapped on her fingers. "With naval
officers...." She sighed. "And I guess with my past. I have never wanted to
really talk about that. But not in my marriage. I do what I can within the
vows I promised to live by in front of my god. I do very well in my job,
thank you very much." Bran was getting defensive.

"Oh no no no," Mark almost chuckled, "Your issues go far beyond the
difference between naval officers and marines... that's merely an
excuse. Now is the time to
start talking about your past as that seems to be the root cause of
your problems. Are you willing to do that or are you too afraid?"

She stared at him. "it is your task to assure patients it is not that bad,
Mark." Silence followed. "....Yes, I guess I have to."

"Yes you do... however," Mark folded his arms across his chest in
symbolic disagreement, "You do your patients a disservice if you tell
them it isn't that bad when it clearly is. Lying to them never helps
and it never solves problems on a permanent basis. My 'task' is to get
people to understand what's wrong so it can be set right. I actually
'counsel' people. I'm not like some of the other mamby-pamby types
that coddle their patients and have to see them once a week for the
rest of their lives. I get results not an ever increasing list of
people to see." Now he unfolded his arms and approached the couch
again, "Now... do you want help or do you just want someone to cry to
once a week."

"I don't agree.... but yes, yes I do want help." Bran looked at him.
"Please, Mark."

Mark watched her through narrowed eyes that appeared to peer deep into
her soul, her very existence as if trying to decide whether or not she
was sincere. After about three second the counselor said, "Very well."

OOC: Backpost that should explain Man'darr being on the surface.

"An About-Face"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC
Commanding Officer

Captain Man'darr Maivia- SFMC
Ex-ecutive Officer

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London- SFMC
Marine Psychologist/Platoon Leader

188th Starfleet Marine Detachment- Furies
=========================================

(Shuttle Bay- Approximately 2 Hours Before Launch)

For'kel was overlooking the preparations being made to the Hoppers and a
few shuttles they would be taking with them to the first objective. The
shuttles with their smaller capacity but more specialized systems would be
used to move any of the elderly and frail that they found on the planet.
Barring that, they could also move cargo if it turned out (as was expected)
that the Vered Cluster was home to only the fittest. At least that's
what some of the reports he'd read thus far (and his own experience
as a far-flung colonist) had suggested.

"Colonel, sir?" The soft, gentle voice of PFC Owens echoed in the small
'mission observation' room on the upper deck of the shuttlebay. Beyond the
transparent aluminum window separating them from the actual shuttle bay,
work crews continued feverishly setting up their craft.

He looked up to see the young blonde Terran slide some hair from her face
with one hand, and offer a PADD with the other. "We have a bit of a
problem with staffing, Colonel." She may have been an infantryman when
they were deployed in combat, but PFC Leah Owens had a
particularly amazing skill at administration and organization. It made her
a very valuable aide de camp... Yeoman being a Fleet proper term that some
found a bit demeaning since the days of Kirk. ...and the Colonel was by no
means a James Kirk type.

"Without Captain Maivia and Lieutenant London, two platoons are left without
officers. Normally command would fall to the respective Platoon NCO's,
but Staff Sergeant I'tilo is... indisposed, and Staff Sergeant Weitz is on
leave. They need leaders sir." Leah said simply.

For'kel sighed. If it wasn't one thing, it was always something else wasn't
it? "Exactly how is it Staff Sergeant I'tilo is indisposed?"
PFC Owens went quiet as she 'did' know the answer, and 'didn't' want to
lie, but likewise didn't believe it her place to be the deliverer of that
kind of news, particularly when it played so well to Deltan stereotypes.

"He's ill, sir." Leah finally stammered out just to end the silence.

"Ill?" For'kel raised an eyebrow and cast her a sideways glance...that
was until he saw t he what he had come to know as the PFC's classical 'you
don't really want to know, for the love of God and all that is good don't
ask!' face. "He had a... bad experience on shore leave, sir."

"Oh, I see." Although Fork himself wasn't the type to indulge in 'that'
kind of experience on shore leave, or at least what he judged 'that' type
was based on the knowing nod of the PFC, he had commanded Marines for far
too long to believe it didn't exist. You'd be surprised what kind of
information on local houses of ill repute you needed to garner as a
responsible commanding officer. You didn't want your troops heading to just
any ole' house after all, because then 'this' happened.

"The doctors say his condition should subside in about a week."
Leah tastefully left out the part about the special shampoo and unique'
comb. "Well that takes him out of this mission in all likelihood."
For'kel tapped the PADD against a rail, measuring what he considered two
very distasteful options. As much faith as he put in the Squad leaders of
his platoons, he knew they were far more combat oriented, and typically had
less of an understanding of the subtleties of the situation because of
the fact the vast majority of their training and experience was geared
towards fighting an enemy. Finally he came to a decision. "Ask Security
if they'll be kind enough to release Captain Maivia to our custody for
the mission. If they defer his detainment for now, they have my word he'll
serve the remainder of his time due when he returns."

"Aye sir." The PFC nodded, and taking the PADD back from him made
a notation. "And Lieutenant London's platoon?"

"As much as I'd hate to do this I don't see much of a choice. Release
Lieutenant London from her confinement for the duration of the mission as
well. Inform the squad leaders of both platoons that I want them to report
'any' instance of hostility between the two of them immediately. They will
be relieved of command if their proximity causes any trouble."
Those platoons would be working closely together, and in that respect it was
like throwing two knife fighters into a phone booth, he knew. "I'll leave
it to you to escort Lieutenant London to her hopper, Miss Owens. Don't
forget we depart ourselves in two hours."

Leah, who'd been helping the Colonel with the unit's administrative tasks
for sometime knew what it was all about, having been there when he
received the official incident report. "Aye sir. I'll see you on the
hopper." She gave a friendly enough smile before heading off.

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

(Branwen's Quarters)

Leah had only ever visited the Psychiatrist's office for the mandatory
post-operational psychological reviews and mandated annual evaluation, but
she'd been there enough to know that it was three doors to the left from the
first T-Junction you came across in main corridor Echo of Marine Country.
She imagined the Lieutenant's quarters would be somewhere in the same
vicinity.

Sure enough, she found Branwen's quarters thanks to the computer assisted
guidance as the first door of the first residential block beyond the
Administrative corridor. Once she was there the petite human placed an
equally thin finger on the door chime.

Bran came to the door her eyes still red from crying. She was so worried
about Dar but had no idea what she could do for him. A bit surprised she
opened the door to find PFC Owens there. She knew the young marine worked
closely with the colonel. "Leah?" she asked. "What can I do for you?"

The private was a little touched by the fact that Bran remembered her name,
but her smile didn't deviate from the standard, friendly persona that was
the young Terran woman's trademark. "Good morning ma'am. I was asked by
the Colonel to escort you to the shuttlebay. You're being temporarily
reinstated for the mission."

"Really?" Bran managed to look a little happier. "Has he calmed down then?
I really do want to talk to him. And I am needed on this mission. I am so
glad he relented. And what about the captain?"

"I wouldn't say he 'calmed down', ma'am." Leah put it politely, looking
forward to just getting her part of the task done. "And I wouldn't exactly
use the term 'relented', especially not around the Colonel. Sufficing to
say, they're in need of officers for this mission. Please get your
uniform ma'am, the Colonel's expecting us."

"Give me a moment, Leah." Branwen said going into the bedroom. And indeed
she was back two minutes later smiling at the private. "Take me to the
Colonel please."

"Very well ma'am, but I wouldn't suggest pushing anything." Leah said
friendly enough. She didn't have much of a choice in obeying the request
from a superior officer.

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

(Brig Area)

When they split up, Owens had gone to get London and Fork took it upon
himself to find Man'darr. There was no way in hell he was going to send the
PFC to deal with the Captain in his stead. If the Capellan had something
to say, he could say it man to man, Marine to Marine.

The Ensign manning the brig controls gave a cursory glance as For'kel was
lead into the room by one of the sentries on duty that shift. The sentry
gave a nod to his superior that the Colonel was leared. "Can I help you,
sir?"

"I'd like to speak to Captain Maivia." For'kel offered the Ensign a PADD
detailing his permission to do so, what it would be about so the young
officer could guarantee this wasn't a jail break in the planning, and
release orders in the event the Marine agreed. The Ensign gave a nod and
gestured to one of the Brig cells.

For'kel walked over, hands behind his back, to examine the Capellan
personally. "On your feet Captain, we have something to discuss about the
mission."

Man'darr slowly stood up from the bare bench that he sat on. Looking down
at his CO. "How can I help, sir?" he replied. His voice and word were
filled with shame.

For'kel relaxed, if only partially. He was never one for kicking a man when
he was down, and it didn't get much further 'down' then spousal abuse.

"You've picked an inconvenient time to lose your temper Mister Maivia. I
don't have the requisite command structure in place to lose two officers
hours before we begin departing. I've asked your brig term be deferred
until the mission is over, until then I'll need you back in command of your
platoon."
The forcefield disappeared and For'kel took a step forward. "You'll be
working closely with Lieutenant London. I presume I don't have to specify
the consequences of relapsing on your behavior?"

"No, sir," Man'darr said simply as he exited the cell upon the forcefield
being dropped.

"Good. We will discuss the ramifications of your actions when the mission
is done. Until then, stop wasting space in Mister Corgan's brig cell, and
move like you have a purpose Captain. Dismissed."
====================================================

(Shuttle Bay)

For'kel was overseeing the loading of supplies. Every platoon would be
given several Argos, though the truly heavy weaponry such as artillery would
be left behind. They weren't preparing for war this time after all, they
were simply involved in a policing action. The Marines of the 'contact
teams' that would actually approach the settlements would leave their rifles
with their comrades, who's task would be to stay out of sight unless
otherwise
needed.

Type IIs were the order of the day, and with Galaxy's resources at the ready
there wouldn't be much of a need to provide for their own headquarters or
medical facilities either. Simply, they probably wouldn't be on the ground
'that' long.

"Colonel?" Private Owens approached from behind, hands behind her back.
"Lieutenant London would like to speak with you."

For'kel rolled his eyes, already presuming the young woman was accompanied
by the Lieutenant. "Miss London, I swear to the Prophets with every ounce
of my being that this had better be mission related. If anything about to
come out of your mouth has to do with Captain Maivia I will 'personally'
see you're transferred out of my unit to some place 'very' far, and 'very'
cold." Everyone had their limit, and the Stagnorian had reached his as far
as the
Marine Psychologist went. He turned her around to give her a very cold
stare. "And I do not take such oaths lightly, you understand?"

Branwen swallowed. All the hard work she had done to get to know the
Colonel, and to get a good working relationship with him seemed to have
vanished overnight. "I wanted to apologise for my behaviour, sir." She
said looking into his eyes. She had enough training to see that this was
not the moment to plead.

Well that was unexpected. It wasn't every day that someone apologized,
whether they should or not. "Your apology is accepted Lieutenant. See to
it that this is the last instance in which you need to be reminded of your
responsibilities." Now that she at least recognized there was a problem, it
would be much easier to work with her. "Is your platoon ready for
deployment?"

"I kept in touch with them from my quarters, sir, they are ready. My
sergeant is taking over until I can join them, he's good. I have been asked
on a reconnaissance mission of the planet with commander Ellesidil. We are
checking out the mood of the colonists. It should not take more than a few
hours, sir." She was all business now. Branwen had always been able to
switch off her private life at work, as she headed for the shuttlebay.

"Blackballed"

Admiral Victor Murdock, CnC Starfleet
Admiral Vaaren Bek, Director Tactical, Starfleet
Lt. Commander Th'Khiss K'aa, Currently Unassigned

"Are ye sure ye're fine wi' this, laddie? I know ye've had plans for
our friend for a while now."

'Laddie' was a thirty year veteran of the fleet, and had called his
companion 'Captain' on the Cheyenne for over a decade. Under a thick
beard now almost snow-white, Vaaren Bek still bristled at the term.
"You know perfectly well I did, Victor. He's got the capacity and
drive to run the whole Atlantis sector ? the current assignment was
perfect for his development."

"Capable", Victor Murdock agreed, "but a wee it short on temperament.
Ye're nae reading the fine print on his reports, Vaaren. Bein' a
sitting duck on a starbase wasn't the best use of his skills, and
frankly there's not a lot of ships that'll have him.. Something like
the Indefatigatable, well... regardless of how many ships there are in
the fleet, it's nae big enough when tongues start to wag. Worse, half
a dozen ships I've checked won't touch him with deutronium-lined
gloves - the boy's been blackballed."

"And what's the problem with bringing him onto my staff", the
Tellarite huffed. "I'll not have him wasted on some backwater tug
hauling wreckage from the front."

"Nae worries, Varren", the Scot said as he peered over his reading
glasses. "The boy's done this sort o' thing before. I'm sure we can
fons some use for him ? after our little project, You've met him
before the Romulan business ? how'd you think he'll take it?"

Bek's bushy eyebrows knit together ? this was Murdock's polite way of
assigning a chore, something the Tellarite knew all too well.

"I'll remember to bring a phaser, just in case."

=========

"Diplomatic Corpsss? Hrrrss?. sssomeone'sss lossst their mind!"

"It seems to me Commander, that when an Admiral expresses personal
interest in your development that one should express something more
akin to gratitude rather than disbelieving incredulity. " Bek's deep
frown was hidden underneath his copious whiskers, but his glare was
clearly apparent, and it bore into the junior officer. "When a branch
is offered to a drowning man, don't quip that you dislike the fruit it
bears, Mister K'aa."

"Yessss ssiir,but diplomacy? Surelty theressss a Tactical possst I
can assssume?"

The Tellarite shook his head and offered the Gorn a padd. "I don't
think you're appreciating the waters you're paddling in Commander.
Yes, we're at war ? but some battles fought with words are far more
deadly than those involving phasers or torpedoes, and an upcoming one
meets with your specific and unique experiences. The Gorn Hegemony is
sending an embassy to each of the powers to discern their position in
the Quadrant War, an information gathering expedition. You will
assist the Diplomatic Corps with the negotiations and to discern what
the Gorn are trying to discover."

Focusing on the padd, K'aa grunted. "That'sss sssimple, Admiral.
There'sss blood in the water, and the Hegemony seeksss the weakerssst
prey. The weak mussst be conquered ? it is the Gorn Imperative."

"Gorn Imperative? What to you mean?"

The reptilian looked up from the orders that were scrolling in the
small computer in his large claw. "Remember your ssstudiess in
ancient Humanity, Admiral, and reflect on the culture of Sparta ? the
weak were culled from their warrior-class from birth, and from then on
a society built on militaristic linesss hammersss the perfect army
from the remaining iron. The Hegemony hasss adopted a sssimilar
concept encompassing the entire race, and our race isss oldAdmiral.
Very old."

The idea of genetic purging and breeding on a planetary scale lasting
millennia sent a chill along the Tellarite's spine. He had marginal
dealings with the Gorn before, and while he appreciated their
strength, their alien coldness was difficult to understand or relate
to. The concept made being in the presence of a Gorn more than double
his own mass more than a little uncomfortable. "Nevertheless, you
will be assisting Admiral T-Plei and the Corps while serving as an
attach? with Strategic Operations ? that way I can keep an eye on your
progress. You'd better get a move on Commander, T-Plei lacks my charm
and patient good-nature."

K'aa bowed and shambled out of the Tellarites' office, inspiring a
surprised 'yelp' from the Admiral's yeoman. Diplomacy certainly
wasn't the direction he had hoped his career would turn after
Atlantis, but in all it could have been far, far worse. His mind
wandered at the possible outcomes and shuddered. At least he wasn't
running Operations again.

"Mr. Oppenheimer I presume"

MARTYRS PART II

A single sputtering light bulb shone down on the dusty tool-strewn table in
the center of the room.

Five men sporting three day old beards, and tattered and torn clothing
huddled around the aforementioned table gazing at the lump of silver-grey
metal atop it.

"Yer sure its safe to take off our masks?" asked one, absently scratching
his jaw line.

"No problem Erich." replied the eldest. "Radiation levels may be high for
the ore in its natural state, but even the crummiest laboratory shielding
will filter it out.

Good thing too, because the crummiest portable shield was about all the
assembled group had been able to pull together.

The metal??a lump of unrefined Uranium 238 sat in the middle of a glowing
isolation shield.

It was unimpressive to look at, but if the stories were true?.it held
unlimited potential to strike back at the Federation invaders.

Why's it changing colors? Looks a bit blacker than before?"

"Oxidation??or rust you could say." Raal was thumbing through an old
chemistry textbook, "Apparently the stuff is highly reactive to air?.we need
to get a vacuum chamber set up??Haas?.be a good man and turn the shield
emitter down to remove oxygen in the bubble."

"So what do we do now?" Asked Jonab?.one of the youngest. "Just attach a
detonator to it?"

"That s not how it works." replied Raal patiently.

"Then how do we blow it up? You said this thing was explosive."

"I said." Raal raised his voice a little, " I said it had
potential??potential gentlemen that needs to be refined and purified into
something useful."

"How? Nobody has built one of these things in 300 years, and if I recall my
history it was damned difficult to do in the first place. All we got is a
bunch of rusty old equipment. How we gonna do this?"

"With patience gentlemen." Raal replied studying the metallic lump with
affection. "The nations of old Earth had primitive refining
capabilities?..almost no ability at all in molecular transmutation. Even a
simple food replicator was beyond their ability. Our equipment may be old,
but its lightyears ahead of what they had hundreds of years ago?..it will
suffice?..if we are patient."

The five men grumbled a bit inwardly, but no one else complained.

"So whats the next step?" asked Erich.

"Purification. The raw ore is useless. Its predominately U-238 which is not
in and of itself useful for our purposes." he frowned, "Unfortunately its
also a bunch of other crap that needs to be refined out."

"What? Smelting?"

Raal shook his head. "No?..too dangerous and too long a process?..what we
need is a??."

At that moment a loud honk from a ground vehicle sounded outside the doors.

Raal smiled, "Just in time??.What we need gentlemen is more of our 'rusty
old equipment'"

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

The flatbed truck had seen better days. Dented and dinged, it was covered
with a fine layer of dust to the point that none could honestly say what
color the original paint was.

What interested the party however was the large piece of equipment strapped
to the back under a rubber tarp.

"What the hell is that piece of junk? Is that what I think it is?"

"A transporter." Raal nodded proudly, looking over the assembly of
machinery. "A vintage 2347 model pulled from an old star freighter just
before being sent to the scrap yards?.got it for a bargain."

"It's a piece of junk!" exclaimed Erich. "I'm not going through that
thing?.its gonna leave out parts!!"

"That." said Raal, "Is exactly what I'm counting on. You are not going
through it my young friend?..but our little treasure from the ground is. Run
the Uranium through this thing fifty or sixty times, and we will be indeed
'loosing parts' "

The men looked at him confused.

"Refining gentlemen?..The ore has 92 protons and 146 Neutrons?..a
combination which as I said is useless to us."

He pointed to the dilapidated old transporter. "This piece of junk however
has a faulty old quantum filter. It randomly looses stray neutrons in the
reintegration process producing ions of normally stable molecules."

"Meaning its broken." Marcum sighed.

"Broken?..well yes for most purposes. I did mention it was a bargain,
however we have a secret weapon."

"Another one?"

Raal smiled and gestured to the dilapidated old gentleman sitting behind the
wheel of the flatbed truck. "Gentlemen?.may I introduce Mr. Gavin Joor?.our
secret weapon."

The men looked unsure. "A truck driver? Great?.we have five miners and one
truck driver on our side? How Starfleet will tremble."

The 'Truck Driver' grinned a gap-toothed smile and spat a stream of tobacco
at the doubters feet. "Gavin Joor??.ex Starfleet Chief of Transporter
systems." he jerked a thumb at the huge piece of rusting machinery, "First
thing I'm gonna do is set up that hunk of metal into the warehouse and get
er running properly."

He paused?.."Then we make a few special modifications for the next step."

"Which is what?"

Raal smiled and held up a thick textbook.

"Chemistry."

~Wearing Your Heart on Your Sleeve~

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

"May we come in?" a woman said, poking her head into the small hut that
Cutter, Shi and Thyago had been left in.

"Please," Shi said, stepping away from the shelves where she'd been peering
at a pair of joined idols covered in dark chalky lines. "Come in."

Cutter stepped over and smacked the sleeping Thyago across the side of his
head, causing the human to jerk upright in his hammock, lose balance and
tumble out onto the ground. "Gah! Como?! Estou acordado! Ha canibals?"

"Wake up," Cutter responded. "We have visitors."

"Oh," Thyago said, then looked at the women entering the room. "Oh! Oi,
oloha."

The first woman, the one who initially asked permission to enter, was thin,
and attractive, with straight brown hair and green eyes. She wore a white
top that hung off her shoulders, and a skirt, that was half cloth and half
grass. Her midriff was bare, and painted like many of the other colonists. She
had a series of 'v's, stacked on one another, all pointing down to her skirt
in a way that Thyago found very suggestive, but which was probably, in fact,
not.

The second woman was larger, stockier, and looked Samoan. She had black
hair, with a bit of a curl, and a round face. She wore a dress which covered
her entire body, but left her arms bare. They were painted, too, decorated
with a series of curvy lines crawling up her upper arms like vines. And, she
wore a ring of sea shells around her neck.

The third woman stepped in last. When she entered, Thyago eyes widened and
he squealed softly 'oooh,' and Cutter turned, facing her, with a look of
attentiveness he had not shown since they arrived. The third woman was not
human. She was, like Cutter, a Fruna'lin, with lightly bronzed skin and bright,
cardinal red hair and wings. She was dressed like the first girl, with a top
and skirt, and a bare stomach. Her clothes were red, died a darker crimson
than her wings. Like the others, she was painted, with a shallow 'm' floating
over a collection of dots sitting in a rounded 'v,' resting among a number
of inverted, five-armed stars. When she entered, she glanced at Thyago and
Shi before her eyes rested on Cutter, and it was there they stayed.

As Shi glanced between those in the room, she felt a buzz of energy running
through it, almost like electricity. It was a warmth she had felt before,
though most often when she was in a room with her bondmates. It seemed
strongest whenever she was near Korazei, her ch'te.

"You are here to help us prepare for the feast," Shi asked, uncertain who to
direct her attention toward. She forced a smile, hoping it appeared more
natural than it looked. Human expressions were still rather difficult.

The first woman nodded and they stepped into the room. The larger woman
moved first, towards Shi, a look of intense curiosity in her eyes. The first
woman cast a quick glace at the two winged peoples in the room, then at the
larger woman and the Andorian before settling her eyes on Thyago. Once stepped
in, only the cardinal winged girl remained, frozen in place, with an
unreadable stare on her face.

It was Cutter who moved to her. "You're Fruna'lin," he said, a hint of
question in his tone.

She continued to stare at him for a moment, a long moment, before
responding. As if just hearing his words, her face squeezed into one of uncertainty
for an instant, the look one gives when one doesn't understand what is being
said. "We are both cousins of Hau," she said fluently in Standard, but with an
obvious accent.

"Do you know this word? Fruna'lin?"

She shook her head, "No."

"It is the name of our species. We're both Fruna'lin," Cutter explained
gently. "Were you born here?"

Again she shook her head, "No. I came with my mother when I was an infant.
I am from Kaya."

"Kaya? Is that a Fruna'lin colony," Thyago asked from across the room.

Cutter looked over to find the others in the room sitting still and quietly,
watching them interact, giving them the space and silence that was thought
they needed. All, but Thyago, who had interrupted with his question. "Yes,"
Cutter answered, his intonation calm and surprisingly tempered, "It's the
name of a binary star system about thirteen light years away from Fruna. It was
settled predominantly by Tantana."

"That explains that lovely cardinal red plumage," Thyago complemented, which
elicited an odd stare from Cutter and a thankful nod from the girl.

"My name is Kala," she said.

"Cutter," he said, "It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, it... Yes," she smiled. There was another pause where everyone sat
silently, watching the two Fruna'lin stare at each other. Kala seemed to
notice this, and said, "Maybe we should begin preparations for the festival."

"Okay," Thyago said quietly, turning to the thin woman sitting next to him.
"My name is Thyago."

"I am Nani," she smiled.

"I am Anari'i," the largest of the three natives said to Shi. She was quite
a bit taller and heavier than the Andorian, and looked over Shi's willowy
figure with the appraising glance of a tailor.

"I am Sharzhevashi," Shi says. She watched all three as they tried to work
themselves around her name. It was not a difficult name, but perhaps she was
somewhat biased in that belief. "But, most people call me Shi. What do you
need us to do for the preparations? Will you have special attire for us to
wear?"

"No, you don't have to wear anything you don't want to wear," Nani replied.

"The festival, tonight, is an offering of thanks to Loko, Lord of the
Harvest," Kala added. "Our harvest this month was large, which means plenty of
food for us, as well as having food to share. Having enough to share is a sign
of prosperity here, and sharing it, a sign of generosity."

"Those who are unhospitable to guests become hosts to the son of Milu," Nani
tsked.

"Yes, so, you see, having you here as guests during the festival is good,"
Kala continued. "Usually, when we have traders, if they are willing, we dress
them as we would dress ourselves, but in blue, the color of Ali'i Malihini."

Nani, who sat in front of Thyago, reached out to the buttons at the top of
his henley shirt. "Are you willing?" she asked.

He smiled dumbly, "Yeah." She smiled, too, a shy, but excited smile, and
undid the buttons. Then, she reached down and lifted the bottom of his shirt
up, over his head, and off his body.

Cutter, too, was being undressed by his helper, Kala. She removed his
uniform jacket and zippered undershirt, all while they cast flitting glances at
one another. And, Cutter was smiling.

Shi blinked at Cutter's expression as she began fumbling with her own
uniform. As she did, Anari'i turned and retrieved a bundle of blue dyed fabric.
She passed similar bundles to Nani and Kala and moved to stand before Shi, who
was now wearing just her underclothes. Anari'i raised an eyebrow as she
eyed the tank top, then glanced meaningfully at Shi. With a sheepish look
toward Cutter and Thyago, she pulled the garment over the top of her head.

Smiling, Anari'i moved in with a top similar to Nani's, made in varying
shades of blue. A skirt followed it, in blues as well. A choker of shells in
varying colors was clasped around Shi's throat while a ring of flowers circled
her left ankle.

Shi glanced over to where the others were, uncertain at the attention, but
finding the experience fascinating as well. But, her two companions were
paying her no mind, engrossed with their own dressings. And their dressers.
Thyago was given a pair of short pants, made of coarse blue material that ended
in frayed unravelings just below the knee. They were held up by a dark, rope
belt, tied off to his side. His dresser, Nani, had tied a blue strip around
his head and his hair, longer in the front, flopped over the edge. Then,
she began to place on simple jewelry on his body - a necklace of small feathers
and claws, and armlets of knotted weaved twine.

Cutter had been given long pants that flowed loosely around his legs and
hide sandals for his feet. His dresser, Kala, was wrapping his arms in blue
cloth, the same dark blue as the tips of his wing feathers.

"What do you pray for?" Nani asked Thyago.

"Pray for?"

"What do you ask of the gods? A favor? Forgiveness? A blessing? In
health, in wealth, in love?"

"Uh..." he stammered, tripped by her last word. "Huh?"

Kala looked over at the conversation. "We paint ourselves here," she
explained. "Our thoughts, our feelings, our prayers. It is to let the spirits
know what we desire. They cannot read our hearts, so we let them read our
skin."

"So, tell me what you wish to say," Nani said, "And I will say it for you."

Thyago stammered once more. "Um, well, love is nice," he said and watched
how Nani reached down for a small clay jar of powdery white paste. "And
excitment."

Nani looked at him curiously for a moment, and smiled that shy, excited
smile once more before dipping her finger into the paint and pressing it against
his chest.

"And you?" Kala said, looking up at Cutter.

"Huh?" he grunted, as if in a trance.

"What will you say? What do you wish for?"

He looked at her, his eyes darting back and forth between hers, searchingly.
He was not searching her, however, he seemed, with considerable internal
conflict, to be searching himself. "I don't know."

Kala tilted her head, surprised at his answer. She nodded, knowingly, and
reached down for a jar of mud brown paint.

"And you," Anari'i asked, eyebrow raised with the question. "What are your
prayers?"

"Friendship, happiness, and love," Shi answered quickly. As Anari'i began
to work with the paints, Shi thought about her answers. She had friendships,
and for the most part she was happy. She loved her bondmates, for certain,
but it was so distant. Watching her companions and the wonder they seemed to
feel with their helpers, she wished that she had something similar.

Sharzhevashi looked down to where Anari'i worked at her bare abdomen with
what appeared to be white paint. She could see whorls circling other whorls.
She felt herself smiling as Anari'i stood to place a final set of designs to
one side of her face, curling designs, it seemed, emanating from her right
eye. As a finishing touch, the large woman brought forth a series of lengths
of blue leather and twine, which she promptly set through Shi's dreadlocks.
An accidental brush against an antenna sent a shiver down Shi's spine, but she
found herself feeling very exotic when Anari'i finally stepped back and
nodded her approval.

Turning to face her companions, whose appearances had been similarly altered
with native attire and body paints, looked like they could belong here.
Except for the colorings marking them as guests, they matched the young women
they stood beside. Even without a mirror, Shi knew that she was very different
from Anari'i and the others. Despite the sadness she could feel deep
inside, the distance between herself those she loved never seeming greater, she
could feel the celebration in the air. Her skin, more of which was on display
than she could ever remember any, save her twin or zhavey, having seen. She
was painted and dressed in a way that made her feel more than herself.
Despite her differences from those around her, she felt more connected to them than
she could ever remember feeling toward another. Well, perhaps save Artemis.
It was a joyful feeling.

"You both look wonderful," she said, smiling wide enough that her teeth even
showed. She tried not to let thoughts of what would happen to this place in
too short a time get into her thoughts. She knew if she did, she would
break down in tears. This place was wonderful, and the thought of these people,
these wonderful people who were so full of life, being forced from their
homes and their way of life, was terrible.

Anari'i made some gesture with her hand, and Nani and Kala took a step
toward the door. Shi guessed the gesture was to follow, and so she did motioning
Cutter and Thyago after her.

"Echoes of Manhattan"

Martyrs PART III

(Warning Science Content)

"Energize??.."

The shrill high pitched whine of an old-style transporter beam filled the
dark dusty interior of the abandoned warehouse.

The dancing lights of the reassembly process sent strange flickering shadows
crawling across the ceiling and adding an eerie mood to the already somber
occasion.

"More power to the confinement beam Haas?.we don't want to lose shielding
once the test object is brought through.."

Blips and bleeps of control toggles being thrown??the dancing lights
gradually fade away, and the whine softens into silence save for the baited
breathing of the six conspirators.

"Well?.." Raal asked, scratching at his scruffy beard. "Are we up and
running or not?"

Gavin Joor?..retired Starfleet Transporter Chief looked over his readouts on
the test palette and gave a satisfied grunt. "Online Raal. Test program
shows minimal degradation of signal at the quantum level, and no adverse
effect on the reassembly process."

He patted the rusty old equipment. "I'd say we got ourselves a working
transporter assembly."

The Conspirators?..five miners and one disgruntled Starfleet veteran looked
down on the two-pad transporter stand and the fully intact test object.

It had taken fully three days of greasy work to get the surplus unit off the
flatbed and up and running in the makeshift laboratory.

In the process they'd managed to disintegrate no less than a dozen test
objects before this final successful calibration test.

They'd gone through too much effort in obtaining the Uranium to risk losing
it on a faulty transport.

While the others clapped each other on the back, the youngest member, Erich
wrinkled his brow in thought.

"Okay?..I still don't get what we're trying to do." he said. "We've got
transporter?.big deal??how does that help us?"

Joor chuckled, while Raal threw an arm around the youngsters shoulders.
"Patience Erich. We had to make sure the unit was properly functioning
first??.before we broke it again."

"Broke it again?" Erich frowned. "We just busted our asses getting it
working. What the hell are we breaking it for?"

Raal nodded to Joor who took up the technical explanation. "Okay kid?.you
remember how we said that U-238 was useless for our purposes?"

"Yeah??and I remember asking why we didn't just dig up something that was
useful instead of all this rigamaroo?"

"Because in nature U-238 is by far the most common isotope of Uranium. The
refined stuff only occurs naturally in less than 1% of ore, which means??"

Raal interrupted. "Which means we'd need to dig up a shit-load of the stuff
to even come close to getting what we need."

Erich shrugged. "So why don't we just replicate it? Its not like Latinum
that is impossible to reproduce."

Raal frowned. "Trust me that was our first choice, but it seems that
Civilian grade Replicators are hard wired not to produce anything harmful or
radioactive. We'd need a military grade unit, and frankly that just aint
gonna happen."

The youngster touched the ancient transporter controls?.complete with three
sliding toggles?.."Okay fine?.I understand that but why use a transporter?
We cant change the results of what goes through it? You send an apple
through it, you get an apple on the other end??.same with Uranium right?"

Raal nodded, "True, true?.but Mr. Joor here is gonna fudge the results a
bit. We don't need to turn an apple into an orange??just into an ever so
slightly different apple."

"How?"

"Chemistry."

Erich spat on the dusty floor. "Enough of the 'chemistry crap Raal??how?"

The Team leader sighed and gestured towards a nearby lab bench. "How long
you been a miner Erich?three years?"

"Five this May?..so what?"

"And as a deep space miner, what do we use as a liner against cosmic
radiation and neutrino bombardment?"

Erich frowned. "Sheets of Neutronium. Thin sheets so dense that the
neutrinos cant penetrate and contaminate the site. " he shrugged, "I
installed the stuff my first year?..thin as paper and heavy as shit that
stuff is so dense."

Raal smiled. "Exactly. The densest material known to exist??super heavy?but
relatively easy to obtain right?"

"So what. Neutronium has no military value. Its too heavy to use as
armor??it's a stable inert alloy, so it doesn't react with anything. Its
useless."

"Not to us. Joor? Explain please."

The veteran was already hip deep in exposed transporter machinery pulling
out various wires and conduits before reaching what he was after. "Behold?."
he said holding up a small boxlike apparatus, "Anyone know what this is?"

"You're the damn transporter technician."

"Now now Erich?.temper?..We're trying to explain this. Joor?"

The tech shrugged. "This is the transporter bio-filter. All matter streams
in the re-integration process runs through this filter to screen out harmful
bacteria?..toxins etc etc?..it's a pretty standard part or transporter
technology for the last 150 years or so."

"And this?." Raal stood in front of the work desk and with a heavy grunt,
strained to lift a small sheet of metal alloy about the size of a sheet of
notebook paper. "This is?.."

"Neutronium??" Erich interrupted. "That one sheet probably weighs 30
kilograms or so?..don't drop it on your toes."

Raal lugged the ridiculously small sheet across the room and dropped it next
to Joor with a huge metallic CLANG!!!

"Right?." he panted a bit. "Neutronium plating??.a plate that we're gonna
install ?.INSIDE the bio filter of the transporter."

Erich though about that for a moment???."Whatever the hell for?"

Gavin Joor picked that up. "SO that everything sent through the transporter,
has to be run THROUGH the neutronium plating."

"Won't work." Erich shrugged. "Stuff is too dense?.its just block the matter
stream?.."

"Not entirely." Joor corrected. Transporters work on the quantum level so
even solid neutronium has gaps in it for particles to flow through.."

The man grunted with exertion as he and two assistants lifted the heavy
sheet into the bio filter mechanism. "What we're hoping however?..unh?.hold
it right there Haas?..what we're hoping is that some of the particles will
strike the plate of neutrons??.that's all neutronium is by the way?.packed
neutrons?..anyhow they strike the neutrons and pick up a few to carry along
in the reintegration process."

"So we contaminate whatever we send through with extra neutrons? " Erich
thought. "Is this the refinement?"

Raal smiled and handed Joor a spanner, "Exactly. Its basic chemistry like I
said???extremely difficult to accomplish by 20th century techniques, but as
I mentioned they didn't have the ability to disassemble an reassemble
matter."

He explained the theory: "Okay we got Uranium-238 right? To make something
that goes BOOM we have two options. First we can enrich the Uranium to U-235
which is highly fissible. "

He frowned. "This makes bigger booms, but unfortunately you need more of the
stuff to create a critical mass and its harder to set off. Our second option
is to go the other direction. Bombard the U-238 with extra particles ??hence
the neutronium?..and actually cause it shift into the highly unstable
isotope U-239 got it?"

Erich nodded?.it was starting to make sense. "Sure U-238.?add
neutrons?.create U-239 . Sounds simple."

Raal smiled, "Okay like I said U-239 is highly unstable and
radioactive?..that's why we have a shield around the transporter??anyhow the
half-life is only 23 minutes which means that our lump of U-239 will rapidly
decay into a more stable element entirely?..in this case Neptunium-239."

"Neptunium?"

"I didn't name the stuff?but its important to realize that this happens
naturally?..Once we use the trasnporter to add just one measly teeny-tiny
neutron to the U-238 atom the rest of the process is natural?..we don't have
to do a thing. The U-239 will automatically throw off particles and become
Np-239.?..after roughly an hour we'll have a lump of more than 90% pure
Neptunium."

"Is that explosive?"

Raal shrugged. "Theoretically, but its too much trouble, because Np-239 is
also very unstable. It only has a half-life of about 2 days, so it would be
hard to keep it around long enough to build something with it."

"Oh?..so it naturally decays too? Uh?.say in a week or so and becomes
something else?"

Raal smiled. "Yes?.and this time its both highly fissile and had a half life
of thousands of years which gives us time to build something with it."

Erich frowned and ran through the whole process once again. "So we take the
lump of U-238 we dug up and run it through the transporter and the
neutronium filter thus making U-239.??this decays naturally into
Np-239.??.which then decays naturally as well." He paused. "So what does it
decay into?"

"Simple" Raal grinned. "PLUTONIUM"

"Crisis of Conscience"

Commander Brian Elessidil
Corporal "Doctor" Cian?n Tierney

Cian?n stared out the glass door at Commander Brian Elessidil who was
standing on a balcony clearly deep in thought. The Betazoid gave away
some of his emotions in his physical presence. It looked like he was
carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The Angosian
understood what it was like to have a sea of emotions and the
difficulty in sorting them and acting appropriately.

"You know, we're more similar than I imagined." Cian?n said stepping
out and next to the Counselor. He stood just inches from him, leaning
against the balcony rail. The two looked out over the rural landscape.
"We're both easily blinded." He didn't exactly mean it as derogatory,
but it also wasn't a compliment. "For me it's instinct, fight or
flight. I can size up a situation in a fraction of a second and before
that second hits have already acted. It's a different level of
consciousness." He paused, "unfortunately it leaves me emotionally
blind. I'm detached from the situation." The soldier spoke matter of
factly.

"For you it is the opposite, it's emotion driven." Cian?n continued,
"you have a big conscience, a big heart. You have the ability to
understand and care beyond the capacity of most. But even more than
that, you not only understand a person's feelings, you take them into
yourself. I so admire that, that you can't even begin to..." He
stopped and then added, "Unfortunately it leaves you rationally blind.
You can't be detached from the situation."

Cian?n turned to face Brian who still looked out over the horizon.
"You've helped me slowly become attached to situations, to explore the
world through different senses. Maybe I'm here to do a little of the
opposite for you."

The soldier grinned his signature devilish half smile leaned towards
the Counselor and whispered, "We're quite a pair out here. Sort of a
blind leading the blind." His grin disappeared as did the whisper,
"but we can't use our blindness as an excuse. These people are
counting on us, Commander. It may seem paternalistic, it may seem
unfair, but the truth can't be hidden. These people don't stand a
chance. I can't tell you the path you should take." His frustration
with words and emotions was evident, but his grin reappeared, "you
outrank me by quite a few steps. As a friend I can tell you..I don't
even know what I can tell you. You're supposed to be the one with the
advice."

The Angosian stepped to the door and turned back, the weight of the
world seemed to be shifted partially to Cian?n who considered the
ramifications of the Counselor's actions. "Brian, I don't think I
could stand being on the Galaxy without you."

Everything Cian?n had said so far was accurate, and he'd shown a level
of understanding of human emotion that Brian had never seen in him
before. But his last statement was infinitely more unexpected. Those
words came with more than understanding; they brought revelation.

As a thousand and one thoughts about counselor-patient boundaries,
improper fraternization with a subordinate and a whole host of other
academic and regulatory reactions flooded to the surface, Brian felt
the universe stand still for a moment as if there simply was no more
room left in his mind even to process time itself. He felt chilled
and a little dizzy as he gripped the balcony rail more tightly, more
for emotional, rather than physical, balance. Yet even as every fiber
of his professional self demanded that he address what was going on
before it got too far, the past few days had eroded his sense of
objectivity to the point where nothing seemed to matter anymore.

"I don't know if I can stand being on the Galaxy with myself," was all
he said in reply.

Cian?n caught the words as he walked back into their temporary base of
operations, if it could be called that. It seemed the Counselor was
using it for a family reunion with a family that wasn't his. Cian?n
did feel some sadness for Brian who was clearly caught in a place he
didn't want to be.

Cian?n paused for a moment inside and closed his eyes replaying the
last moments detail by painstaking detail. He wasn't sure why he said
it and frankly didn't understand the meaning behind the words. Cian?n
never consciously considered the feelings he held for Brian. He
couldn't separate the counselor from the person from the ability to
relieve Cian?n of pain. Cian?n realized they were all one and not
meant to be separated.

Opening his eyes Cian?n shook it off. He didn't have time to reflect
on his inner emotions. The soldier used his training to bury them
deeply, coating them in callous rationality. He wanted to give the
counselor more time, but time was a luxury they could not afford.
Plans were underway and they were already behind schedule.

"Is there something else you want to say, Corporal?" Elessidil asked
in a voice just loud enough to reach inside the doorway where Cian?n
had gone. Brian's patience was wearing thin, not with Cian?n, but
with the whole situation here. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to
separate the two right now.

Cian?n returned to the doorway. "I think I'm all out of psycho-babble
for the week." The marine stepped outside and then again broke the
silence. "I don't think it was fair of me to say all of that." He
regretted the timing, not necessarily the words. "I don't quite
understand what you're feeling, but I know that we came here to help
these people and I don't think you're doing that." He didn't say it as
an accusation, a finger pointing or degrading. In fact, a hit of
sorrow could almost be detected.

The counselor's head was spinning inside and it was all he could do
not to throw himself from the balcony in frustration. Who really
needed help here? The colonists? They only wanted to keep what was
already theirs, what they had worked long and hard to build. Cian?n?
True, he was experiencing some things he'd perhaps never had to deal
with before and Brian suspected there was an undercurrent of emotional
transference going on, but thus far the corporal didn't seem to have
any trouble carrying out his orders. It was Brian himself who
appeared to be having the most difficulty now, adrift in a sea of
conflicted emotions about the very task he'd been sent to do. How
could he in good conscience uproot these people, especially after
learning what they'd gone through and seeing first-hand they lives
they'd managed to build despite all the obstacles? These people were
everything they were supposed to be: hard-working, self-sufficient,
loving, stable and happy, and it was all because of their own tenacity
and effort. What right did he or anyone else have to ask that they
throw all that away over some ridiculous political dispute? His
entire career was built on helping become exactly what these people
were and everything in him fought against disrupting that.

"They don't need my help!" he finally yelled, whirling around to face
Cian?n directly. "They're doing just fine! Look at this, Cian?n!
They're a family, they have a home, a community, and they're just one
example! Everything about them screams success and well-earned reward
and we're here to tell them they can't have any of it anymore! Damn
the Federation!" he shouted, slamming his fist down on the balcony
rail.

Cian?n was taken aback. It was the first time he had ever seen the
Counselor so conflicted. He wanted to help Brian take his emotions and
curl them into the tight ball like he was taught and bury them. It was
the most counter-productive method for dealing with them, Cian?n knew
that, but it was a quick remedy. To make it worse, he didn't agree
with Brian's foreshadowing. The people might have to work hard again
but they could have a good life.

"I know it sucks." Cian?n admitted. "But it isn't the end for them.
It's a new beginning." Cian?n tried to make sense of Brian's feelings.
"I think we have to reframe the situation. We can dwell on what's not
right and completely ignore opportunities." Unfortunately Cian?n's
words were tactical, he didn't know from where else to pull. He walked
closer to the Counselor and once again stood next to him.

"It isn't right," Brian emphasized. "Perhaps they can start again
somewhere, but they shouldn't have to. They've done everything right
-- how can we tell them it's a new beginning when we can't say it all
won't happen again for some other reason? Look at that family,
Cian?n. Look at them and everything they and their neighbors have
done here and tell me why we have any right to tell them to leave."

Before any more could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of
Brian's communicator badge, a sound he'd started to grow accustomed to
after the previous three interruptions since their arrival.

=^=Belkin to Commander Elessidil.=^=

"Go ahead, Sargeant."

=^= Our teams are in place and we're ready to start the evacuations.=^=

Brian looked at Cian?n for a moment. He'd tried discussing the whole
matter with Connath while they were eating, but it hadn't gone very
far. From what he'd learned, the counselor knew that when the time
came, the people at least in this part of the colony weren't going to
go easily. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to rip the badge
from his chest and have nothing to do with any of it. The only
reason he'd agreed to eat with Sorkin and his family was that Brian
hoped they could convince him they had to leave, yet it hadn't turned
out that way at all. In fact, Brian was more convinced now than ever
that this was wrong on so many levels.

"Stay where you are, Sargeant," he finally said.

=^=Sir?=^=

"No one is to move in."

=^=But Sir, we have to start this evacuation. It's already begun in
the colony center, and the settlers out here are more spread out.
It's going to take time- =^=

"No one moves until I say so, Sargeant! That's an order. Elessidil out."

He smacked his badge. "There must be a place we can hide them," he
said to Cian?n. Brian was pacing now, the tension between what he
knew he was supposed to do and what he wanted to do reaching a level
he would soon be unable to contain.

Cian?n moved closer to Brian and the soldier's face actually gave a
way an emotion of pain. Brian was now talking incoherently. The
Angosian could already sense a change in the Betazoid's blood
pressure, temperature, and pulse without touching him. "Commander, we
can't hide them." The normally rational soldier wanted to grab Brian,
shake him and tell him to get a grip. Somehow he didn't think that
would work.

The soldier was also a physician and considered a long list of acute
somatoform syndromes that the Counselor could be experiencing
including hysteria, delusions, dementia, drugging, intoxication,
mania...the list went on. Then there were the unfamiliar areas that
Cian?n would normally rely upon someone like Brian to cover including
passion, charisma, zeal...powerful emotions that have taken over.

"Commander, tell me what will happen to these people when we leave."
Cian?n had to try and reach some semblance of logic.

"I don't know!" Elessidil shouted back. A voice somewhere in the back
of his mind was telling him to get a grip. Had he really just
suggested they tried to *hide* nearly two hundred people? He knew he
wasn't making sense and that the whole notion was madness on top of
madness and just on the brink of worse: there could be serious
repercussions for the colonists and for his own career if he
interfered with the Federation evacuation orders.

"Is there a problem?" A tall figure had arrived unnoticed at the
doorway behind the two officers. It was Sorvin.

Brian turned to look at him, amazed by the calm he felt emanating from
the other man -- ironically, a calm the counselor himself had been
sent to foster yet felt none of. It was surprising for many reasons,
not only for the irony of the situation, but also because there
clearly had been some tension among the rest of Sorvin's family at
dinner.

Feeling trapped, the only thing Brian could think to do was to stall
for some more time. What he hoped was the voice of reason spoke
hoarsely through his lips. "You have half an hour to call together
the other leaders of your community." Before Sorvin could object or
insist that they weren't going anywhere, Brian cut him off with a
sharp hand gesture. "Do it before all your families are all dragged
from here kicking and screaming," he tersely added. "Cian?n, make sure
they're in the assembly building in thirty minutes."

With that, he stormed back into the house and out into the evening
air, trying to decide what he would do next.

Dodging the Questions

1st Lt Branwen London, Marine Staff Psychologist
Corporal "Doctor" Cian?n Tierney, Marine Medic

Cian?n's conflicted emotions were hindering his ability to think clearly, at least as clearly as an Angosian with the ghosts of hundreds of dead swimming around in his head can think. The marine wasn't sure if he should reach out and deck the Counselor or embrace his hysteria.

He chose neither.

Cian?n returned exasperated inside the home. Seated around the table he noticed the family was outwardly content. He knew that it betrayed an inner turmoil not yet exposed. The soldier joined them.
Melody, the resistance leader's (if he could be called that) wife set a mug of the local version of ale in front of Cian?n who looked into the foaming liquid. There was still a voice inside his head that called to him. He recognized the voice as the now seemingly deranged Counselor. The Angosian sighed.

He turned his head to Drasha, Sorvin's youngest daughter. "Children are so precious."

"They're the future." Sorvin added looking at his kin.

"What little future you have left." Cian?n said with flat affect.

Sorvin's face soured.

Cian?n continued. "We could force you to evacuate. It's not difficult. You're not stupid Sorvin, you know we won't do that. You are a sentient lifeform and the Federation would not take action against your wishes. I may not agree with that."

"Funny thing for a Doctor to say." Sorvin interupted.

"Funny thing is I don't think of myself as a Doctor." Cian?n admitted. "I'm a solider Sorvin. I was trained since I was no older than Drasha to win regardless of the costs. I've killed more people than live in this village. Your life is of little importance to me." Cian?n wasn't telling the entire truth. He wasn't heartless, he could just ball up his emotions and bury them deply.

"Why are you here?" Sorvin asked.

"The Federation cares about you. And her." He motioned to Drasha. "They know that if you stay here, you will have no chance. The two people that I came with..."

"That Lieutenant, and Brian ?" Melody asked.

"Yes, they are extremely conflicted." Cian?n laid it out on the line. Honest diplomacy. "They lose sleep over your people. It tears at them to order from above your evacuation."

He paused to let the words sink in and then continued, "The future inhabitants of this planet won't lose sleep over you." Stopping Sorvin from speaking he added, "You're annoying bugs they need to exterminate, with your colonies and nests." He motioned around the room at the house. "This is unusable to them and when you have been extinguished they will raze it."

The soldier stood up. "You can stay, I don't care. If your decision is final, the Commander and I should move on to another colony to help people who want to continue living and rebuild a better life elsewhere."

Cian?n walked out the front door to avoid Brian , but to be somewhat alone. He closed his eyes before hitting the sunlight. His entire being was on fire. Cian?n's senses were wild, touching everything around him. His endorphines needed to be calmed. The Angosian felt vile, but he had to remain composure and control. He also had to return to the Counselor.

At that moment his communicator beeped.

"Corporal?" It was Lieutenant London. Her communications officer had kept her apprised of what was going on in the other sections on the planet. Just an hour ago the Command had come through to stop evacuations, it had taken them completely by surprise. Branwen had tried to reach the Commander without any success. So now she was trying for the corporal, maybe he could shed some light on the situation.

"What the hell is going on, corporal? We are behind schedule already, and I was finally starting to get the show on the road in the city."

"Shit," Cian?n cursed under his breath. This wasn't a good time. "Tierney here, Lieutenant. How can I be of assistance?" He wasn't fully prepared with an explanation, but knew that he would have a tough time not telling the truth.

"You can start with telling me why the evacuations have been stopped, and why the Commander will not answer my calls." Branwen said patiently.

Cian?n paused for a moment. "The evacuations have been momentarily stopped to buy more time for negotiations here. The Commander is currently indisposed." They weren't lies. Brian wanted to buy more time to hide the friggin' colonists and he certainly was not disposed to discussions.

"Negotiations sounds good. The commander being indisposed doesn't. What happened, was he shot like the Colonel? Do you need me to come over?"

The Angosian had not heard about the Colonel's condition. "The Commander has not been physically injured. He's reassessing his plan of action and determining next steps."

Something just didn't sound right, Branwen could not put her finger on it, but something in the corporals tone of voice alerted her to possible problems. "Corporal, are you sure there is nothing you are not telling me?" She went with the hunch. "I would like to talk to the Commander anyway."

Dodging her first question he commented on the latter statement. "I can find the Commander for you and see if he is available. It's a critical time right now in negotiations, ma'am." Cian?n noted that he was having negotiations with both the refugees and Brian .

"You do that, corporal. I will hold while you find the Commander." Branwen said not believing him completely.

"It might be best if I contact you back when I am able to get through to him, ma'am." Cian?n was treading on very thin ice.

"Now that I finally have somebody on the line, I don't think so, corporal." London said icily calm. "I will hold."

"Yes, ma'am." Cian?n shook his head and once again cursed under his breath. What the hell was he going to do? Cian?n headed back for Brian .

To be continued...

"Smoke and Mirrors"

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
Corporate NPCs written by Omar

*

Zanthus City's Spaceport had a very slow day. The Starfleet group was
ushered in, escorted by corporate grunts to the shuttle pads. Everyone,
Starfleet and Corporate alike, knew that the next time they meet it will be
in a far less friendly circumstances.

The port reminded Saul of another place, light years away. The color of the
sky was different and the port wasn't rising composed of terraces rising
from a polluted ocean, but it still pinched his heart a little.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the 2380's. This was not
Utrecht, he was not running away from home, and Chava wasn't stalking him
from around the corner. This was Zanthus city, a corporate complex that
must be vacated from all people by this time next month.

"Bancroft, Grey, Yuuri - change of plans, we'll take shuttle six."

Artemis Bancroft blinked but altered her heading toward the new direction.
Lt. Bental was in charge and if there was a change, she would go along with
it.

"Aye, sir," she said.

Saul led the group to a one of the platforms. There was no sentient clerk at
the entrance, just a computerized registration system. Saul reached for the
ugly-looking box, spying for the socket that Aina Mason told him about. When
he found it, he connected it to a small device. It was meant to tell the
registration system's sensors that four Starfleet officers boarded shuttle
six, even though they did not.

Artemis watched Bental's actions with interested disinterest. She knew how
starships operated, despite her youth, but outside of holodeck simulations,
everything today was more or less a new experience. It felt almost
exciting. If there weren't so many lives on the line, maybe it would be.

Ella also followed Saul, wondering what was up. For all their freaky moments
of connection, this time she wasn't sure what he was up to.

"What are you doing, Saul?" Nyoko inquired suspiciously, asking Ella's
question for her.

"Shuttle six will leave without us." Saul prompted. He turned to Artemis.
"What you said at the briefing was correct. If we want the corporate to fold
out, we have to make the evacuation and compensation deal more compelling
than leaving. We can't pull this off with the corporation watching our every
step, so we're going to make them think that we're gone."

He flashed a grin at Nyoko. "Don't worry, I informed the Captain. This time
it's approved."

Artemis couldn't help the slight smile that formed. She didn't really know
how much impact it would have, but if she had made a good first impression,
that was good. Now, all she had to do was stay alive. And maybe find some
time to hopefully be able to find out from Ella what it was like being a
member of the Starfighter Corps.

Oddly-shaped clouds began to cover the sky, rapidly moving and shifting.
They cast long shadows on the landing platform. Shuttle six's engines began
to hum, as its unsuspecting pilot began preflight checks.

"It's your call whether to stay or leave." said Saul.

"I'll stay," Ella replied.

"If it's important," Artemis said, "then I want to stay and help, sir."

Saul gave Nyoko a quizzical glance. The Japanese rolled her eyes, but she
and Saul knew each other well enough that an actual answer was unnecessary.
For that exact reason Saul requested Captain M'Kantu to have her on his
team.

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

One of the Agents assigned to monitor the Starfleet group electronically
noted the entry through the port sentry that they were taking Shuttle 6 to
depart.

He reported the information to his handler, who advised him to continue his
electronic surveillance without intervention.

Said handler then advised the group's 'shadow' that she was to keep eyes on
the group and see what they were up to. She signaled acknowledgment of her
instructions and kept them in her line of sight while maintaining an
appearance of busy work in the bay.

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

"Now, let's step into the shuttle."

Artemis moved into the shuttle, as ordered. It was hard not to feel lost as
they went off the tracks, so to speak. But, as long as Lt. Bental informed
them of what they were supposed to be doing, she decided it was okay. If it
got to the point where she was expected to do something without knowing what
it was, she'd be in trouble.

They paced into the airlock and waited. Saul signalled to the rest to stay
put, then concentrated for a minute waiting for the hiss.

When it finally came, the other three immediately realized what they had
been waiting for. White steam-like gas rushed out of three pipes circling
the pad. The gas swirled, making shuttle six look like a prop out of an
early science fiction movie.

"Coolant. It's going to be chilly." Saul explained and instinctively took
Ella's hand. "Let's go, they can't see us now."

"One of these days we're going to have a conversation about sharing," Ella
hissed as she ran along with him to avoid being dragged.

"Just Us Monsters"

Principal Characters
Lt. Commander Corran Rex
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

With a few thoughts from the mind of Ella Grey

- Takes place just after "Always On Hold"

*******

USS Galaxy
Deck Twelve

The Commander - no, just Rex now, since he was leaving the ship for an
undetermined amount of time (and that was, in fact, the reason for this
visit) had spent a good deal of time down here since they'd returned with
his small ship a lifetime ago. And it was a lifetime. Before Romulus. Before
Ivo. Before Deep Space Five. Before... before Victor had awoken and realized
that Angelienia was his girl, and that he was no longer alone.

Victor supposed that this was, for Rex, a way to feel what Victor felt in
his cabin now, with the plants and the sounds, and Angelienia's smile and
the touch of her hand on his; a way to feel alive. This was his past, a
connection to a time when he was a different person, with different worries
and cares. And one had to know their past, to feel it, in order to connect
to their present and feel it.

That was why Victor was here, too. To connect to his past. And to.. wish his
friend well. It was a strange notion.

He paused at the Marianne's exterior hatch and keyed the signaler there to
announce himself, =/\="Permission to come aboard, sir."=/\=

Corran's head darted up at the sound. "C'mon in, Vic." he said. He closed
his eyes for a moment, fighting down the tide of memories that the other
man's voice brought. Not just all of his own memories of Victor, but a
lifetime of those from Vorrin and his friend/foe relationship with
Krieghoff's uncle, who was so damn similar to the security officer, even
down to his voice. Burton's isoboric drugs might have tamped down his
telepathic talents temporarily, but they couldn't do a damned thing for four
thousand years of unresolved memories.

The ship wasn't large - if it had been, it couldn't have been stored aboard
the Galaxy, even in one of the deeper hangars - and it only took Victor a
minute to negotiate the work-scarred deck and find the Commander where he
stood, looking at a small device in his hand. It was, Victor assumed, the
reason everyone had wanted the ship in the first place. "Is that the
zero-point device?"

"Yep." the Trill replied, holding the device up. That small, unremarkable
little sphere glowed with an odd blue light, and was the reason he and
Victor had gone through so much hell recovering the Marianne on Mosanalea
last year. "You'd think it'd be bigger, hunh?"

Victor shrugged. "How big is it supposed to be, sir? Size has no relation to
significance, you know that. How big is a soul? How large is an idea?" He
nodded towards the device. "Would it be easier to accept what the device
does if it were larger? Would that make it more... impressive?"

"It should." Corran shrugged. "Something with the potential impact of
this...." he shook his head again. "It's about like finding out a friend of
yours has, say... destroyed a planet. It's hard to quantify."

Well, Victor conceded, at least there wasn't going to be some
awkward fumbling on his part to try and bring the topic up. "I suppose that
I could make a joke about it," Victor offered quietly. "That's what one of
the holo-heroes that populate Starfleet in cinematic releases would do. Say
something like 'It was only a small planet, no one will miss it' or maybe
'It had it coming,' something like that, but that would be an attempt to
make the event less than it was... and that shouldn't ever be done."

"Tell me about it." Corran replied, the statement twofold. On the one hand,
it sounded like a simple request. But there was something deeper to it -
something that suggested that Corran - or more likely, Rex - knew exactly
what it was like.

That was reasonable enough; Victor would want to know that in the
Commander's place. Unfortunately, the situation wasn't reasonable. "I'm
constrained about what I can say on the subject, sir."

"I told you last year what happened to me during the Dithparu incident?" the
Trill asked in a seeming *non *sequitur*.*

"Yes, sir," Victor nodded. "You... woke up, and remembered further back than
you'd thought your symbiote had been alive."

"My first host, Jacen, was one of the Tactical officers who bombed the
surface of a Trill colony world. I helped turn almost a billion of my own
kind into radioactive ash. My seventh host, Lazlo, was a serial killer that
brutally tortured and murdered seventeen people before he was caught. My
fourteenth host, Baraban, was exactly what you are, Victor - whatever it is
that makes most people scared as hell of you. He was an agent for the
Commission, who "solved" problems - problems like Lazlo. Permanently. My
sixteenth host, Carolus, single-handedly ruled Leran Manev's criminal
underworld with an iron fist for almost five decades. There is blood on my
soul going back four thousand years. So, monster to monster, tell me what
happened." Corran said in a flatly emotionless tone - but with so much force
that Victor couldn't possibly refuse.

Victor considered the information, considered the promise that he'd made to
the Attendant, and frowned as he sought some way to reconcile the two. "Did
you give your word, sir?"

"What's that?"

"Did you give your word not to speak of why you were there, doing those
things?" Victor explained. "Because I did; that's why I am constrained as to
what I can say."

"A promise to a dead man is no promise at all, Victor," Corran explained
darkly. "What exactly *was *your promise?"

Was his promise to the Attendant extensive enough to cover even itself?
Victor considered that for a moment. No, he didn't think so. Besides, if
anyone would understand why he made it, Corran might. "I promised to do
everything in my power to achieve the objective I was given, and to never
speak of what happened during the mission or what I learned during it. In
return, I was promised something that I considered a fair trade." Oddly, he
realized that he still did.

"Which was?" Corran asked pointedly.

That didn't seem to be covered by the promise he'd made, either. "I was
promised that scoutships being sent into the Breen territories after Havras
would be tasked to search for a lost runabout from the Galaxy and extract
any survivors they found unharmed as part of their mission directives."

Surprisingly, Corran let loose a single bark of laughter. "D'you know, I
haven't thought about that in months, and this is the second time it's come
up today?"

Victor wasn't sure if that laughter had been a result of Corran reacting to
a genuinely funny moment, a release of stress, or just a punctuation mark
for his words. "The second time, sir?" Whichever it had been, talking about
that was certainly going to be easier than talking about Jhorjah.

"Earlier, I got stuck in a 'lift with Ella and Cutter.

"Ah." Victor considered that. "And the topic came up then?" He doubted that,
considering what he knew about what had happened - and who it had happened
to. He hadn't killed his former friend for what he'd done to Ella - he'd
been talked down from that - but considering the way that Ella kept her
pains and tragedies clutched so tightly to her that one needed the strength
of a black hole's gravity well to pry them loose, he doubted that she'd been
the one to discuss it. Or perhaps it had merely been the fact that she and
Cutter had been part of the crew that prompted the thought. He considered
that more likely.

"Sort of," the Trill acknowledged. "Similar circumstances, mostly, but
nowhere near as dire this time."

*And no crazy Curtis*, Ella's voice said in his head.

*You listening in now?* Corran's mental voice asked in surprise.

*Apparently*, she shot back. *You're not giving me a whole lot of choice.*

*Well that's just damned disturbing*, Corran frowned, and turned his
attention back to Victor. "But that's another topic. Trust me when I say,
Victor, no matter your promises, that you need to talk about that planet. No
matter what - just someone you trust. I'd rather it was me. I've been there,
and there's not a lot of people in this galaxy who can say they're
responsible for the death of a planet full of people. Thankfully."

"Yes," Victor agreed. "How did you deal with it?"

"I dealt with it by committing suicide. Not my finest hour, and not a fate I
want for you, Victor."

"No suicide," Victor said quietly. "It's just another way to run away from a
problem - the ultimate way - and running doesn't really solve anything.
Besides, even if I was thinking about it, I don't think I would - or could -
give myself permission to die anyway."

"There's lots of ways to die, Victor," Rex said in a quiet, knowing voice.
"You can do it all at once, or little-by-little on the inside, a piece at a
time."

"I understand that, sir," Victor nodded. Remarkably, he did. He'd been dying
inside for a long time until he discovered that there were people that could
touch him, physically and emotionally, and had finally allowed himself to
consciously reach out for that touch. That didn't make it easy for him - or
anyone else, he suspected - but it had kept him from falling away into the
emptiness inside him.

"Then don't give yourself permission," he replied smoothly. "Tell someone
about it, even if it means you break your word. Otherwise it'll overwhelm
you eventually, no matter *who *or *what *you are."

"Perhaps so. Perhaps not. I may not know if it will until I reach the point
where I start to fall." Victor studied his friend for a moment. "You've
thought about it too," he finally observed.

"I'm four thousand years old. I should have picked up a thing or two by
now."

"Chronological age doesn't equate to actual wisdom, Sir, you know that."

"You know anybody else that would understand?

"No," Victor conceded.

Corran snorted, "Didn't think so."

Victor was silent for long time, thinking. What could he say without
breaking his word? What should he say? "I'm not," he began finally, "sure
that it was the same for me as it was for you."

There was a prickling of tension in Corran's mind that let him know Ella was
paying attention.

Corran just raised an eyebrow, silently prodding the other man to continue.

"Literally, in the sense that you meant to destroy, you knew what you were
doing, were prepared for it. And, more ephemerally, you were still you at
the time."

That drew a strange sort of laugh from the Trill. "I was a kid, newly joined
on my first deployment, my ears ringing with all those words of 'duty' and
'honor'. It was a mercy killing, they said - and they were right. The
Kurlan's symbiotes had gone insane, thanks to their experimentation."

Corran paused, a long remembered pain echoing across his face. "But they
were still people, Victor. Billions of them, who'd wanted to live their
lives... and then, like these things do, it all went wrong. So I "followed
orders." But knowing what I was doing? Being prepared for it? No one is ever
prepared to carry that kind of blood on their soul."

"I think..." Victor frowned, trying to find words that would convey his
meaning without breaking his word. "I think it was different for me. I
was... I was like you saw me on Mosanalea... except I wasn't wearing a mask
at all then. I was... free. Unrestrained in a way that I'd never been before
until Romulus and the invasion there. I was free there, then, too. When I'm
like that... I don't think like... I'm not..." he paused, struggling for the
right words. "I'm... someone else. Something else. I don't feel the same
about most things, don't react about them the same. I'm not... touched...by
them in the same way."
Images flashed through Corran's mind, making the Trill pause.

*Ella, what are you doing?*

*Trying to break this connection*, Ella said in a tired voice. *I'm sorry
but don't want to listen anymore.*

*Maybe you should*, Corran thought at her pointedly. He refocused his
attention to the friend in front of him, rather than the one in his head.
"You know, it frightens me that this isn't a ridiculous thing to ask, but do
you mean like alien possession?"

"No, that's silly," Victor replied with a shake of his head. "There's no one
inside me, making me do things. I know what I am inside; I've always known.
I think my parents always knew... that's why they tried so hard to teach me
that I had to protect the people around me from threats, from monsters,
human and otherwise. That's why I try so hard. Because that's what I am
inside, and the day I stop fighting *for* people, the day that I stop trying
to *protect* them, then that's the day I become what I've fought against on
other's behalf all these years: a monster. A killer. Something that lives
only to destroy." He smiled without a touch of humor. "Death, the shatterer
of worlds."

Corran had to smile back. "Isn't quoting the Bghavad Gita a little cliche?"

"Considering the topic of conversation, it seemed appropriate - if a bit...
morbidly so. But I expect there aren't many ways to discuss something like
this that don't touch on that."

"No, I know what you mean," the Trill admitted, and then looked pointedly at
the ship around him. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Giving up?"

"Does what I think matter?" Victor replied.

"You're a good friend, Victor, one of the few. So I'd say yes."

"Then, isn't the better question, 'Do *you* think that you're running
away?'"

Corran let out a long sigh, and it was a moment before he answered. "I don't
know."

Ella thought so. She tried not to but .... there it was. At least she could
understand why, small consolation as that was.

"Then, try asking yourself this," Victor suggested. "What is there here that
you might want to run away from?"

"There's too many people," Corran answered honestly. "Most days it's all I
can do to be certain the thoughts in my head are mine. I can't possibly do
my job like this - especially not in the middle of a war."

"All right, too many people," Victor nodded. "There might be ways around
that, if that were the only reason." He tilted his head to one side and
studied Corran. "But that isn't the only reason, is it?"

"Ella," the Trill answered quietly, hoping that she was no longer listening.
It might have seemed a bit odd to discuss her with Victor, since the
security officer was, after all, the reason the relationship between Corran
and Ella had failed. It was, though, far from the oddest thing the two men
had ever discussed.

Not unexpected, but certainly awkward, Victor thought to himself. "What
about Ella?" he asked. "Specifically, I mean. Do you think that running away
from her will change something in a fundamental way?"
It might get her out of my head. Literally, Corran thought. "I don't know,"
he said aloud. "I tell you, Vic, I just don't know."

"Siren?s Reqium pt I"

2nd Lt Cora Dobryin - SFMC
2nd Platoon Leader
188th Marines Detachment "Furies"- USS Galaxy

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

(Random Colony Site in the Vered Cluster)

An icy chill ran through Cora as she listed to those fateful words. Murphy
had a way of slapping one in the face when least expected. Of course she
carried too many memories, haunted by other times and places as she was
forced to listen to similar reports. The Intelligence Officer within wanted
to both scream and accept what could happen out in the field. That very call
had been nicknamed the Sirens? cry after those mythological beings that
summoned everyone but from who some never returned.

While she had started Galaxy?s accelerated training regimen, time and the
situation among the colonies didn?t allow for her to concentrate solely on
that alone. Evacuating those colonies wasn?t by any means an easy task but
it required all the manpower they could muster. Cora possessed leadership
experience and a background in field Intelligence work so she could deal
with the rest an mold herself into a very capable marine.

Sergeant Dez Mykea didn?t miss the unspoken worry in Cora?s eyes. Their goal
had been to evacuate a colony adjacent to the one For?kel?s team had been
assigned. However right now she never felt so isolated or helpless. At the
moment they were setting up to clear and secure a perimeter around a small
research depot.

It seemed like just as soon as Cora had received word about her CO?s
injuries everything in her own op seemed to hit the fan all at once. Sniper
fire began from one of the hidden vantage points. As her team carefully got
closer they barely sneaked by that before a well placed trap exploded on
them.

Those nearest it were injured or killed while Cora was hit with a sneaky
piece of shrapnel that left severely injured. On top of that the concussive
force of the blast forced her to the ground hard. Mykea was at Cora?s side
instantly.

"Lieutenant respond if you can hear me? I'm going to check for injuries,"
Dez began quick yet complete exam.

Other marines in the area were moving to help. To see if any others were
injured or how many they'd lost as a result of that one trap. One young
Marine had been a bit to eager, moved forward a bit too soon and as a result
it led to their current predicament.

TBC

5869