"PLANET FALL!!!"

(Special Unrated Director's Cut including Deleted Scene, Alternate Ending,
and The Making of "Planet Fall")

Featuring the dynamic duo: High Chief Raven Darkstar - head of Navigation
and Leo Streely - Captain by clerical error and head of the Starfleet Heroism
In Tactics department.

Assisting them in relocating the colonists of Lee Bay are two NPCS (would
you expect anything less?) handpicked by Captain Streely himself......

Location: Lee Bay Colony (?)

"If you say...... one word....... about this to anyone ...... I will
disembowel you .......with a deer antler." Lieutenant Raven Darkstar said spitting
out seawater.

"I'm just sayin! I ain't never heard of an Indian that can't swim, OK? Don't
you catch fishes in lakes with your bare hands?" Leo Streely asked as he
continued his dog paddle towards the picturesque, white sand and rainbow colored
coral reefs of the shore not far from them.

A swim made more challenging with the mammoth Navigation Chief hanging from
his neck.

"I am an Indian, not a savage. When I want fish, I will use a replicator.
And there are no oceans in space, so the issue of my lack of swimming ability
has never come up before this moment."

"So I technically just saved your life?" Leo asked as his feet touched the
soft sand of the shoreline. Exotic looking fish swam around their ankles as
they emerged from the crystal clear water and flopped down on the sand of the
beach.

"Not. One. Word." Raven said, barely able to hide the embarrassment at
having to be towed to shore. "And remind me to slay transporter Chief Jenson when
we get back to the ship. He missed land by nearly 50 yards."

"It ain't his fault. He just transported us where Starfleet Intelligence
said so. Now there's an oxy moron for you. Starfleet and intelligence."

"Then remind me to slay the Intelligence department."

"Kinda over kill there, isn't it buddy? Bental is the guy who pulls their
strings since that last shadowy department head vanished in a classified
manner. So technically Saul Bental made the call. Hey, that rhymes!" said Leo,
squeezing sea water out of his tunic.

"Then remind me to maul Bental."

"Now you got it! Hey look, there's the rest of the away team now...." said
Leo, pointing a seaweed covered finger to the ocean.

:::(Director's note: Cue the slow motion and Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine"...
NOW!!!) :::

Emerging from the sea, the two female officers ran their fingers through
their long hair, causing water to slip down their slender necks where it soaked
into their tunics, currently clinging to their curvaceous bodies, leaving
very little to the imagination.

"Ensign Tawny! Ensign Katain!" Streely called out waving a tricorder in the
air, "Quickly! Peel off your wet uniforms before this strange alien water
reacts with the estrogen in your bodies!"

Wasting no time, the two women shrugged and started to remove their uniforms.

Raven looked at Leo with eyes wide with amazement.

"You don't even have that tricorder turned on!"

"Kirks Rule #42: Chicks will always remove their clothing on an alien world
if you ask properly. It was in his book." Leo whispered, admiring the way
the sun glistened upon the women's tanned, bare breasts.

He pointed the tricorder at them and yelled.

"Your pants!!! Your pants!!"

"I don't believe this." Darkstar grumbled, wrenching the tricorder out of
Leo's hands. "Those two don't have a brain cell in their heads."

"I know! Now you see why I picked them!" Streely said with a smile.

Darkstar paid him no attention. He studied the tricoder readings intently.

"It appears we are more off track then I initially thought. According to
these readings, we are on the other side of the ocean. We have missed Lee Bay by
100's of miles."

"Why don't you build a fire. Then we need to make shelter. You should do
that too. I'll manage the girls." Leo said waving the two completely nude women
over to him.

"Is that another Indian joke?" Darkstar growled.

"Oh Captain!!! What do you want me to do with this?" Ensign Tawney asked
holding her combadge.

"No Problem!" Leo said. He removed one of his medallions, stood behind the
naked woman, careful to brush his groin across her bare backside and slipped
it over her head.

He affixed her combadge on the chain then looked over to Ensign Katain.

"Where's your badge?" he asked.

She blushed a deep red.

"I didn't know where to put it, and I know I needed it so...." she said, her
hands moving to cover her nether region.

"BY MY ANCESTORS!!!!" Raven yelled incredulously. "You know you have to tap
it to make it work?"

"I'LL DO IT!! I'LL DO IT!!! I'M THE CAPTAIN!!! LET ME CALL THE SHIP!!!" Leo
bellowed, yanking at his own uniform.

::: (Director's note: Cue the Waylon Jennings "Dukes of Hazard Voice
over....NOW!) :::

Now runnin around with that pole cat Leo Streely has given ol' Raven a
pickup truck full a patience. But just like the wishbone from a chicken, everyone
has a breakin point and that big red boy done had his fill of the big hoss
and his twin bunnies10 minutes ago......

"EEENNNNNNNNOUGHHHH!!!!!!!!" Darkstar exploded, stopping everyone in their
tracks."THIS IS A STARFLEET OPERATION NOT SOME TAWDRY HOLONOVEL!!! YOU......
NOT ONE MORE WORD!!! YOU TWO GET YOUR CLOTHS ON NOW AND GET READY TO MOVE OUT
NOW!!! WE STILL HAVE A MISSION TO COMPLETE!!!!"

"Um, partner...I don't think we need to worry about that clothes thing." Leo
said pointing to the edge of the jungle behind the steaming Indian.

Raven turned to see dozens of nude humans coming out of the lush vegetation.

Immediately registering more nude women then nude men, Leo scurried around
the Indian kicking up sand with each step.

"I'm the Captain! You got shotgun! I'll make first contact!"

A tall Asian woman with long black hair that hung well below her nude bottom
walked out to meet him.

Streely held his palms up and spoke exaggeratedly slow.

"I am Captain Leo Streely of Starfleet. We come in peace." he said bowing
low enough to covertly ogle the woman's genitals.

"I am Mistress Eve. And welcome to the Temptation Cove Nudist Colony!" the
woman said in perfect basic as a huge smile began to shoot across Leo's face.


To Be continued!!!


DELETED SCENE:

"Where's your badge?" he asked.

She blushed a deep red.

"I didn't know where to put it, and I know I needed it so...." she said, her
hands moving to cover her nether region. Leo stopped twirling the thin piece
of driftwood he had been holding.

We should probably tap it to see if it is still functioning after being in
the water.

"With that little stick?" Ensign Tawney asked.

Leo chuckled.

"My dear, I was thinking of using the Captain's Log!"

ALTERNATE ENDING:

A tall Asian woman with long black hair that hung well below her nude bottom
walked out to meet him.

Streely held his palms up and spoke exaggeratedly slow.

"I am Captain Leo Streely of Starfleet. We come in peace." he said bowing
low enough to covertly ogle the woman's genitals.

"I am Mistress Eve. And welcome to the Temptation Cove Nudist Colony!" the
woman said in perfect basic as a huge smile began to shoot across Leo's face.

With one well practiced move, Leo ripped off his clothes, tripping on his
patented "Love You, Captain M'Kantu" Valentine's Day boxer shorts. The same
shorts he had been trying to sell on the Galaxy intranet the past month with
little to no luck.

"Momma I'm home!"

THE MAKING OF PLANET FALL:

Interviewer: Joe, this post is very light hearted in a mission that is
somewhat dark. What made you go in this direction?

Joe: Everyone else has been writing such terrific colony posts, I figured I
had to do something completely different to stand out. I mean Raven is a 300
pound Indian with a chip on his shoulder. You expect things to get violent
with him. Add to that the fact that he is an Indian means he would instantly
have a problem forcibly relocating people. I wanted to place him in a situation
that he was completely alien in.

Interviewer: So you picked a nudist colony?

Joe: Absolutely! The minute I read the word colony in the outline, I
instantly thought of nudists. It was an idea that I was sure nobody was going to
come up with. In fact, I could be wrong, but this could be the first time a
nudist colony has been featured on any Galaxy sim. You have such a cross section
of cultures and settings in the Cluster, that I thought there would
certainly be a place for a nudist colony especially in a paradise like setting like
Lee Bay.

Interviewer: Nude women, zany situations, shit references and sex jokes seem
to be prevalent in most of your posts. Is that indicative of any personal
issues you may have?

Joe: I know naked women, sex jokes and zany situations. They always say
write what you know, so I am. Plus I say shit a lot in real life. That explains
the shit references.

Interviewer: You're like the Galaxy's version of Quentin Terrintino. People
either love your stuff or they hate it. Do you ever think that maybe you
crossed a line with something you post and it really doesn't belong in a trek sim?

Joe: Well, in a sim where exists such thing as talking crystals, mind
readers, robotic zombies raping your soul, genocide, tribbles and time travel, I
don't think any thing I have written has been too fantastical. In fact its all
based on humanity. The funny stuff, the sexy stuff, the zany stuff. Some
people live like that. If I can get someone to laugh with something I write, then
it was a good piece.

Interviewer: One last question for the ladies in the sim. With Raven and Leo
in a nudist colony, will we get to see how big Raven really is?

Joe: Oh I can tell you that now. He only 4 inches.

Interviewer: 4 inches? What a disappointment! He's such a mountain of a man
everywhere else.

"The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia"

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC
Commanding Officer

Gunnery Sergeant Thral (PCC- Mike)
Demolitions Expert

188th Starfleet Marines Detachment- "The Furies"
=========================================

(Planetside)

It took some sneakiness on his part to maneuver out of sickbay, but For'kel
was a sneaky guy. Not sneaky be design, certainly not to the extent required
in intelligence work, but he was the type that was typically so trusted not
to be sneaky, that he could easily get lost in a crowd, go unobserved,
etcetera. Doctor Burton surely didn't make it easy for him to do so, but he was a
resourceful and wily one.

He was also not so dumb as to think Doctor Burton wanted him to stay down
for no reason at all. There was a lot to be said about the stupidity of some
acts of bravado, such as Klingon table-top arm wrestling, but sometimes a
certain degree of what women universally derided as 'macho' was needed. The
Colonel played it as carefully as he could, keeping a medic close at hand and
riding in an Argo buggy rather than trekking on foot as was his norm It still
hurt like a... well never mind what it hurt like (especially when they hit a
really bad bump), but he was doing the best he can with the situation he was
given.

Private Owens, who was at this point driving, had given him as thorough a
briefing as she could. Several Marines were missing in action, presumed
captured by the colonists (though this certainly wasn't confirmed by any means),
and dozens of others were either dead or wounded. All because the colonists
were as selfish as they were stubborn. "Gotta admit sir, I'm rather surprised
you're back already. You were in pretty bad shape... didya bribe the doc or
something?"

For'kel smirked. "The Galaxy is a great ship Private, but I've always
preferred the atmosphere of a planet. If anyone asks, this is a therapeutic
outing." It may not have been the entire truth as he didn't really want to be on
'this' planet, but sufficing to say this is where he 'needed' to be after
everything that had happened. These were his Marines after all, and besides
with the orders he was about to give... he wasn't going to place the burden of
issuing them on 'anyone' else.

If someone was going to be hung for what might happen, it was a burden he
wanted to bear alone.

"Gotcha, Colonel." She gave a nod of understanding. "Just so you know, we
should arrive in town in about ten minutes."

The other two passengers, the Bajoran medic and the Rigelian rear-gunner
remained dead silent. Neither had anything to say really, having already
bombarded the Colonel with their own questions and versions of 'welcome back'.
They knew the situation they were riding into well, what had happened with
previous ambushes and attacks, and were being as observant as they could. The
Bajoran checked her tricorder every so often and gave the Colonel a hypo when
needed, but despite their lack of words it seemed as if their will had been
reinforced with the realization that at least 'someone' was in charge again.

The silence had given For'kel time to think. He'd thought about what to do
the entire time he was in the bio bed, and afforded a moment of reflection
here he went about rechecking the tentative decision he'd made. It wasn't one
that could, or should, be made lightly.

Decisions like this had been debated endlessly in the history of military
forces. For some those who'd made the decision were heroes, but more commonly
they were typically held as villians, albeit lawful villians. Earth's
history alone held dozens of instances, the destruction of Palestinian civilian
towns in the 60's and 70's, the raising of Vietnamese villages by American
forces during the Vietnam War, the dropping of the atomic bomb on Japan or the
fire-bombing of Dresden to end World War II...

And probably one of the most controversial among them, Sherman's march on
Savannah.

They were decisions made by a wide-range of people, and executed in similar
but different fashions, all aimed in the end at a single goal... to destroy
the will of the enemy to fight. In some instances it worked, once it was
proven that the ideal of national invincibility held by both Japan and Germany
during the war was shattered, both nations folded... potentially saving millions
of lives in the process. Sometimes it didn't work... Ariel Sharon's
raising of a Palestinian village likely only served to harden resistance against
the IDF, and the American non-policy in Vietnam ultimately turned the rural
areas of that nation into breeding grounds for resistance. Depending on the
situation, such force could perpetuate a cycle of violence, or end it with
finality. For'kel was hoping it was an option they didn't need to use, but it had
become clear to him that 'something' had to give, he was losing too many
Marines who'd come to this cluster with the purest of intentions, to try and
help these greedy fanatics who couldn't put aside their own desires long enough
to do what was required of them by their countrymen. They weren't fighting
for an ideal, for freedom or liberty, or even their own safety given that they
'knew' well in advance lethal force wouldn't be used against them, they were
fighting for money, for material, for convenience and wealth like damned
Ferangi mercinaries. Now, if he could take away their reasons for fighting,
maybe prove to them the foolishness of thinking they'd be able to resist a full
invasion by the Dreyshans or Hydrans alone if they couldn't 'win' against a
single well-meaning company of Starfleet Marines and officers, perhaps they'd
become more reasonable.

Something had to be done to break them of their fanaticism... and if they
were determined to hang through hell or high-water for their homes, For'kel had
become determined that they simply didn't have time for hell to arrive on
it's own. He'd raise it for them himself.

He'd read that the fires of Savannah were so severe, that the night the
lights finally went out in the Georgian town not a building remained standing,
and that the only signs that a civilization had once remained were the hurdled
masses of people without means of leaving. Come day light, only the
blackened, charcoal remains of buildings were left behind... and the horror was so
striking that it effectively demonstrated to the Confederates that they were
incapable of adequately defending even their own territory. Robert E. Lee
would surrender not long after. The man had recorded things in his own words.

'We are not only fighting armies, but a hostile people, and must make old
and young, rich and poor, feel the hard hand of war, as well as their organized
armies. I know that this recent movement of mine through Georgia has had a
wonderful effect in this respect. Thousands who had been deceived by their
lying papers into the belief that we were being whipped all the time, realized
the truth, and have no appetite for a repetition of the same experience.'

And that was most definitely what the Marines were facing here. By killing
his Marines, by fighting for property and ignoring the needs of the many, the
colonists had very much become a hostile population in For'kel's eyes.
They'd tried the nice approach to no avail, and had exhausted every peaceful
measure available to them to avoid confrontation. Now the Stagnorian's patience
was exhausted... if they would not come to their senses, he would let them
get a taste of real war.

"Here we are, Colonel." Leah brought the Argo to a stop. The 188th's
combat engineers were waiting, including the old war dog himself, Thral.

"Glad to see you could make it." For'kel smirked, giving the Tellerite a
slap on the back as he got out of the vehicle. He certainly could use the help
in keeping stable.

Thral looked down the line as the Colonel drove up and made sure his men
were in perfect formation. They might be in a hostile area but protocol would
still be observed so long as he had anything to say about it. When the Argo
stopped Thral immediately at his side.

"Colonel, what's so important that you had to invoke the wrath of the
almighty Burton."

"Got a mission for you and the men. Gather around." The Colonel waited
until the senior NCOs were listening, the lower-ranking Marines had fanned out
in the empty town to provide a defensive perimeter. "Captain Maivia,
Lieutenant London, and several other Marines were abducted not too long ago as I'm
sure many, if not all of you know."

"I've heard the chatter yeah." Thral responded.

"We don't know who's responsible for sure yet, but it certainly wasn't other
Marines." Or at least he hoped not, but he couldn't absolutely rule out
that Man'darr and Branwen finally snapped simultaneously and shot each other
after shooting whoever tried to intervene. "That leaves the colonists. In
either case I'm sure you've heard about the other attacks as well... sufficing to
say we need to make this stop 'now'."

There were nods of agreement.

"This is why I'm about to issue these orders. This is going to be strictly
by a volunteer basis, those of you who for whatever reason find it impossible
to comply should know I will not hold it against you, and I will accept full
responsibility for everything that happens from this point onward
personally. That being said, we all know the 'reasons' they're fighting us. It's time
we took those reasons from them."

Thral had a feeling what the Colonel was about to ask him. It was going to
leave an extremely sour taste in his mouth but he would do it. It was job and
he'd do it and do it well.

"We start fighting back, here." For'kel pointed downward. "This town is
evacuated, making it the perfect demonstration ground. Thral, I want enough
charges set up to demolish 'every' thing in this town. Every building, support
structure, transport or utility system, every garden... everything. I want
it burned to the ground in a fire large enough that when the colonists look
down from those mountains, they see exactly what it is they're 'winning', and
then I want the terrain scrapped and the earth salted so 'nothing' will grow
here again anytime soon. Use incendiary and high-explosives, and keep this
as quiet as possible. Set the explosives to safe, 'nothing' is destroyed
until I personally give the order, understood?"

Thral nodded in understanding. "I was going to insist you push the button
sir. Will make our court martial more clear. But if you want a big boom, you'll
get one and when you want it."

"Before we begin we'll start a sweep to guarantee this town is as empty as
it seems to be. Try to salvage whatever material possessions you can and
catalog them so we can properly disperse what we can carry to the colonists after
all is said and done. Hopefully we won't need to go through with it, but
I'm not ruling out any options at this point. Everything that's been said
remains 'here', I want a full security blanket on this. I will inform anyone
else who needs to know my self." The Colonel looked around, having expected to
see the kind of solemn faces the idea had been received with. "I know it
sounds drastic, but they have to be shown we are 'not' leaving until the job is
done, and that there isn't anything here for them anymore. Questions?"

"None here sir." Thral actually had loads of questions but he'd been in this
situation way too many times to actually have to ask him. If he didn't have
questions he'd be a monster. But perhaps this was actually for the greater
good. Maybe it would get the colonists out of here.

"All right, show of hands... volunteers?"

Thral's hand shot up almost instantly.

Even For'kel was surprised to see everyone's hands up to a man. Yes, there
was moral ambiguity as far as the orders went... but in the end they were
talking about destroying physical property, certainly not anything like the
death and destruction the colonists had already visited upon their fellow
Marines. The whole unit seemed to have decided that if it was war the Colonists
wanted, it was war they were going to get. "All right then. You have your
orders... let's end this, get our people back, and go home. Move out."

He watched them go before returning to the Argo. Although he didn't show
it, the level of internal conflict with those orders was through the roof.
Part of him wanted to turn around right now and cancel them, put together
another diplomatic effort despite everything... but he restrained himself, even as
Private Owens walked with him. "Sir..." she whispered out of ear shot,
helping him get into the buggy. "We 'are' just bluffing, right?"

"Bluffing isn't a strong character trait of mine, Leah." His hushed
response, especially the use of the first name, indicated their conversation had
become more personal than professional. In reality, he appreciated that she was
expressing doubts. Someone had to... the day anyone followed orders blindly
was the day Starfleet lost it's greatest asset. "They'll get one more
chance, we'll give them an ultimatum and warning."

"What if they still don't want to leave? These are their homes, Colonel."
Leah's southern, gentile accent made a brief appearance, brought on by the
disbelief she held in what she was hearing and in the orders that were just
issued.

It wasn't something For'kel hadn't thought about already. After a moment of
dwelling on everything he'd done, everything he'd considered, all the
possible outcomes and their alternatives that he could come up with, he came up
with exactly one answer.

"Quite frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

"Emergency Surgery"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer

Colonel For'kel Arvelion
Marine Detachment Commanding Officer

= = = = = = = = = =

(Some Field on Some Planet)

A million different memories flooded what was left of For'kel's senses
following the shot. He had been relatively fortunate... his plan had worked
in so far as it totally screwed up the sniper's target acquisition, and that
had provided the crucial difference between a clean and lethal head shot,
and a crippling, but not immediately fatal shot For'kel had actually taken.

The bullet had passed through his arm, and lodged into his side, missing
vital organs and most blood vessels by fractions of centimetres. A lot of
blood 'had' been lost no doubt, but he was alive, if unconscious, when the
doctor was finally brought down to the planet. The Marines with him had
moved quickly to provide what combat first aid they could, but in the end
they could only slow, not stop, the dangerous progression For'kel was
making. All in all it was bad, but looked even worse.

As soon as the transporter reassembled the doctor, she was being called
over. Two of the Marines were posted as lookouts, a third was sent to
personally escort the doctor, and Private Owens was by the Colonel's side
wondering just how much blood one could lose before death set in. "Doc!"
She called out, a crimson tinged hand waving her to the waiting patient.

Tricorder already in hand Kimberly moved swiftly to the Colonels side,
ignoring the uninjured for now she headed for her patient. The fortunately
brief journey here from the council meeting had passed in a flurry of
activity for her. Gathering what supplies she had available, changing,
reviewing what information had been sent to her and ordering up a full
medical team to follow on, however they would be some time behind her.

Kneeling beside For'kel she ran her tricorder over him and assessed him both
with the device and visually, a quick trauma series check. The initial
first aid had stopped him from bleeding out on the spot, but there wasn't
time to beam him out and take him back to the ship as the projectile had
done some nasty damage which had to be at least patched here and now.
Noticing signs of hemoptysis she cursed as she realised the bullet had
actually managed to penetrate not only his arm, via the bone, but his rib
cage and a portion of a lung.

As with any projectile, it wasn't just the impact, but the hydrostatic shock
that had damaged the surrounding tissues, as well as systemic shock due to
blood loss.

Shaking her head as she got to work she dredged up old lessons about
historic medicine, the only place she had studied gunshot trauma. In all
her time as a medic and a doctor this was the first time outside of a class
room she had encountered the ravages that a bullet did to the humanoid body.
~ Something else to add to the department training roster. ~ She thought as
she got to work.

Her swift triage complete Kimberly applied a tourniquet to his arm. For now
it would stem the blood loss. If the worst came to the worst she could
clone him a new arm, but the punctured lung had to be at least patched
before he literally drowned in his own blood, the lung collapsed completely
and a dangerous pneumothorax occurred.

Opening her medical kit and her emergency kit she got to work. Pumping in a
universal blood expander and some triox, she worked to increase his blood
volume. Normally a transfusion would have been preferable, but as the fates
would have it there were no other Stagnorians available, and she didn't have
the equipment available to filter human blood to ensure compatibility.

Next on her list was what her professor on Th?r? had referred to as field
surgery, though his lesson had focused on work done in a field hospital, not
a literal field. Looking up as she cut away the Colonels uniform she called
over a nervous looking Private. "Contact the Galaxy," she ordered him
curtly, "and get an ETA on the medevac runabout that should be en-route.
Tell them they're to land the runabout here, I don't want to risk
transporting the colonel. Then have someone beam up to my shuttle in orbit
and bring that down here in case we need it." ~ I hope not, but let's have
it here just in case. ~

Looking back down as the Private started talking she adjusted her scalpel
and got to work on flesh instead of cloth.

As soon as Kimberly moved to actual surgery, everyone seemed to find
something else to do. The Private had gone off to perform controller work,
keeping in touch with the Galaxy and the incoming runabout, and feeding
coordinates to both. Private Owens stuck close to protect the Doctor as she
did her work, and Corporal B'ran and his comrade formed a two-man
rectangular perimeter. On the back of everyone's mind was what had
happened to a fellow Marine, and as reports were coming in of other
incidents, there was definitely a growing sense of anger among the squad.
Several Marines had been killed or wounded, all for trying to be civil. It
was the kind of act that could drive rescuers into being occupiers.

"Estimated time of arrival is two minutes." The director called back to the
doctor.

For'kel murmured something incoherently as he started coming to,
inconvenient while undergoing surgery. None of the Marines in the squad had
known enough about metabolic variances to make the appropriate adjustments
in sedative, and thus had only administered the standard dose... enough to
keep an average sized human male under for about half an hour. It'd worn
off already, and the pain killers would follow soon enough. "Where... we?"
He winced as he tried opening his eyes, and found it much easier to keep
them close.

"Sorry Colonel," Kimberly muttered as she loaded a hypo and swiftly
administered it. One thing she didn't need right now was her patient trying
'anything' while her hands were holding parts of his chest cavity together.
Dropping the hypo she cracked several of his ribs to give herself some
working room and got to the delicate task of patching his lung. The bullet
was still inside, though for now it could stay there. It had done its
damage and they could beam it out safely when they got back to the Galaxy
when they fully repaired the damage.

Working carefully but swiftly she worked to bio-suture a trauma patch over
the damaged area and checked her tricorder. Humming softly to herself, an
unconscious habit while she worked she noticed an increase in intrathoracic
pressure and interrupted her humming with a muttered curse, then got to work
relieving that pressure.

Realising that this was exactly the sort of situation she had prompted Max
to assemble his team she added another note to her mental to-do list, have a
chat with him and get the team assembled and training asap.

After a few moments delicate work she heard distantly above her the all too
familiar sound of a runabout as it fired its landing thrusters, she also
heard the familiar tinkle of a transporter as the trauma team were beamed
directly down nearby. Once the high pitched sound had subsided she risked a
brief glance to see who had arrived and raised her voice.

"Lassimas," she called to the Hermat who was leading the team, "Grav
stretcher with restraint field," Kimberly ordered brusquely, "then load a
hypo with 20cc's of Phetetalin and set up an IV, one unit of hemolog. Move
it." Her fingers still carefully working to reduce the increased pressure
in the Colonels thorax she concentrated on the task at hand, sparing only
the occasional glance to her surroundings. As the runabout landed nearby
the noise of it settling drowned out the gently hiss of the hypo as Lassimas
administered the broad spectrum antibiotic.

Satisfied that the pressure in the colonels thorax wasn't going to impair
his breathing, at least for now Kimberly slid back on her knees and checked
her tricorder again, the work she had done was little more than stop gap,
but should give the colonel breathing room, literally, to be transferred to
the Galaxy and the full facilities of sickbay. Nodding to the two medtechs
stood nearby with the two halves of the stretcher she watched as they
assembled it around and under him with practised ease, while at the same
time nurse Darra set up the universal blood substitute IV. Releasing the
tension on the tourniquet for a moment she reapplied it for now, that wound
could be treated en-route back to the Galaxy she decided.

"Let's go," she ordered as she stood, "Corporal, have someone fly my shuttle
back to the ship please." She asked as the orderlies activated the
stretcher and gently lifted the colonel off the grass. Gathering her kit
quickly the medics quickly transferred the unconscious marine to the
runabout where they could stabilise him further prior to surgery.

After that, whether the Colonel liked it or not, Arvelion was off this
mission, and in for a stretch of regen therapy and then physical therapy
before he'd be back on active duty. Securing the stretcher on the runabout
Kimberly called forward to the pilot, "Hail sickbay, tell then to have a
surgical bay ready for when we arrive. Get us home. Now!"

"Let Sleeping Dogs Lie"

Lt. Chris Daniels, Tactical
Lt. Jarajen Quaaliu, CAG

Tactical Department, USS Galaxy

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

It took Quattro a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the relative
darkness of Galaxy's cramped Tactical control room, but finding the
individual he was looking for was one of his easier chores. Though
certainly younger in appearance from the other officers he had seen,
the Tac had by far more experience than those about him. Jarajen had
been thorough in his search, and Daniels' qualifications stood above
and beyond the flock. The Nassari CAG made the effort to approach
quietly, his movements masked by the steady hum of tactical sensors.

"Romulus."

The man Quattro was looking for was sitting back in the office area of
the Tactical Department. Behind the cubicle marked with his name,
Chris Daniels was sitting at his desk in relatively higher light than
what the control center offered. He was studying in preparation for
his away mission in the relative peace and quiet of the offices when
he heard it.

Mention of that place.

That place which, despite the counseling, despite the time, despite the
endless rationalization that those three kids were going to die
anyways and that the ships he targeted weren't done out of rage and
were necessary to destroy, the word still struck a nasty chord in his
mind. He turned to find a man he did not even remotely recognize.
His face betrayed the fact that he was not happy to hear mention of
that place.

"Excuse me?"

"Miranda's CIC. This one understands you commanded the CIC over
ch'Rihan during the second battle - is this so?"

Chris eyed the four armed man and stood from his desk, his arms
crossed. What the hell was with the third person reference?

"You might say that." He said, nodding. "What about it?"

The grin was slow to spread across the Nassari's face, but Jarajen
coudn't help himself. "Miranda is of the Pathfinder class - almost
the capacity of a full carrier. This is excellent. This one is
Jarajen Quaaliu, the Galaxy's CAG - and this one seeks your experience
and knowledge. Our flight group is in a state of flux, and this one
seeks the Lieutenant Daniels' assistance in developing a new tactical
strategy for the fighter wings. Does this hold your interest?"

Chris finally relaxed a little, exhaling and leaning back on his
modest desk, pushing the holoimage of Janeen back to provide
some more room. So far, he had been relegated back to simple bridge
duty and mid-level analytical stuff..things he had been doing as an ensign,
and it was boring him. Not exactly the return to the front lines that he had
imagined. While away team duty wasn't exactly his idea of a good job, at
least it was something. But this...

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "It might. What did you have in mind?"

"Imagination", Quattro offered cryptically. "There have been
developments with the new generation of Rogue fightercraft that may
hold the Lieutenant's interest, especially since the genesis of the
project was borne on the Miranda. The Lieutenant Daniels worked on an
analysis of a captured Hydran-maj fighter salvaged from the Delta
Quadrant. While not of the latest generation, the fighter was current
enough to offer insights to the Hydran-maj technology. Using this
data, Starfleet has given us a prototype.

Chris listened intently and nodded. "I suppose its only fair before
you go any further to tell you my speciality is in fleet tactics
focusing on the large ships. I don't exactly know much about
operating in your realm." The truth was, flying in those death traps
terrified Chris, and he wanted nothing to do with the aviation side of
Starfleet. Not now, not ever.

The Nassari pilot nodded. "This one understands, but also
understands that the Lieutenant has excellent experience on a fleet
carrier, and from what his superiors say, does whatever it takes to
get the job done. Most importantly, the Lieutenant thinks
unconventionally ? this is what the CAG seeks."

Chris just looked at Quaaliu for a moment. Despite what the record
said, he was a grand total of 24 years old, 2 and a half years out of
the Academy and only 2 years into his fleet life and to him, he still
didn't know more than he actually did.

But, what the hell? He shifted against his desk and took a breath.

"Alright Mr. Quaaliu, I'm in. I'm due to head down to the
planet...but once we get outta here, I'm all in. Just promise me one thing."

"If this once can accommodate, by all means."

Chris' eyes lowered and his gaze became more serious.
"Don't--ever--bring up the Battle of Romulus in casual conversation
around me again."

Quattro paused, and gave the Tactical officer an odd, sideways look.
"Does the Lieutenant truly consider this one's request to be 'casual
conversation'?"

Daniels crossed his arms which did not indicate any angst towards the
other officer, but a bit of awkwardness about the topic. "The last
few minutes, not at all. But most people don't introduce themselves
by walking quietly up behind someone and muttering the name of a place
where you had both your worst and finest professional moments." Chris
stopped and looked around to see if anyone else was listening to the
conversation. True, he wasn't the only one who had been there during
those tumultuous times over ch'Rihan, in fact, most of the Galaxy crew
had been there as well. But the simultaneous guilt, anger, pride and
perverse lust to do it all again still ran through his veins more than
most others who had been there. "I appreciate the homework you did on
me, but understand that there's things that went on there that an
after action report can't detail...I can handle it when in a
professional context, but as a personal favor, I'd ask that you let
that sleeping dog lie where it is when it's not necessary to wake it."

Jarajen shook his head. "This one cannot accede to the Lieutenant
Daniel's request." The tall, thin alien bent over the sitting human
and lowered his voice. "Ch'Rihan was but a wave of a foul tide. More
are storming past this one's horizon, but the Lieutenant must accept
that another ch'Rihan is coming. This one is charged with the lives
of his squadrons and by extension the whole ship, and will to his best
ability? but remembers one specific event from the second battle.
Does the Lieutenant Daniels know of Kol, son of Kor, the Dahar Master?"

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "No, can't say that I have."

"Kol was a warrior? and a teacher ? a pilot here this very starship."
Quattro grinned in spite of himself. His past opinion that the
Klingon was an arrogant ass had really remained unchanged, but perhaps
the dead must be given their due. "Kol sacrificed himself by ramming
his starfighter into a Hydran-maj carrier at light speed. Three
thousand of the enemy perished in fusion, and the Hydran-maj have
surely learned Kol-ji's lesson? and this one knows for fact that the
enemy are more fanatical than the son of Kor ? and there are far,
far more of them. Can the Lieutenant Daniels now understand why this
one has sought him, regardless of the Lieutenant's misgivings?"

"Are you asking me if I understand that we need to be ready the next
time the Hydrans try to take us on and that they will have adapted to
what we did last time and we need to be ready to counter that?"

"This one is asking the Lieutenant Daniels to assist in tempering the
Vanguards, in all manners and in all ways."

"Mr. Quaaliu, I didn't ask out of a pretty good job on Atlantis to
come the front line and hope I'd never get in a fight...I know damned
well what the repercussions are of assuming the status quo for
tactical thinking. Every day since that battle I remember what the
price of Starfleet's complacency in regard to the Hyrdans cost us.
Now I'll help you, and you'll have the best fighter strategy in the
fleet when I'm done, but unless you have a real good reason to bring
up the battle...I'm asking you, please, to not."

Try as he may, Quaaliu couldn't understand the young humans'
bitterness. For years he had been both impressed and concerned with
Humanity's capacity for war. Certainly Homo Sapiens were capable
warriors - the Dominion Wars and recent events over ch'Rihan proved
such - but their incapacity to revel in the act disturbed him. Humans
were an interesting study in contrasts - craving peace, but adept at
war. Yet the extreme anger coming from one so young was indeed
disturbing.

"Very well", the Nassari said at last. "The subject will go unspoken
in the future. The Lieutenant's best efforts is all this one asks of him."
A curt nod, and the alien CAG left Tactical at a brisk pace.

Chris returned the nod and watched as the CAG left. Maybe he had
pissed him off, maybe not, but Chris didn't really care. The feel of
battle was still deeply ingrained in him nearly a year later. The
memories still kept him up at night. The memories of the three body
bags sitting in the corner of the CIC while the survivors went about
repairing the damage. Telling Murdock he should use biological
weapons against the Starbeast. But what had really stuck with him was
that dark rage he felt as he targeted those ships. Ships that he only
fired upon because they were on the wrong side. Ships that, for all
intents and purposes, had already been knocked out of the battle. Why
Chris Daniels didn't want to talk about Romulus was because of the
fact that what he had felt over Romulus was something that terrified
him. It was a feeling that made him feel more alive than he had ever
felt in his life. And that it gave him such life was what worried
him.

And deep down, it was a feeling that he prayed to get to feel again every day.

"Sublime Appreciation, Part 1"

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Unnamed New B'Halan Insurrectionists

****

It was, Victor reflected, nice to be alone.

Not alone in the sense of being emotionally alone, cut off from the
people around him - he'd had quite enough of that in his life and saw no
reason to ever allow himself to go back to it. Fortunately, after his
life as Chulak, and now that he had Angelienia, and knew how to tell her
how he felt, that wasn't going to be a problem again.

No, he meant alone in the sense that he was by himself, with no one else
in the immediate vicinity. In this case, that was a pretty large
vicinity; several dozens of kilometers at the very least. It was, in
fact, the furthest he'd physically been from other living sentients in
years. Subjectively, a century and a quarter of so, although
significantly less in actual time.

And it was... sublime.

He'd spent over a century on Talvalen living Chulak's life, surrounded
by Talvalen's metal walls, and the thousands of people that traveled
aboard her. He'd spend considerably less time aboard Galaxy, and
considerably less of that had been in close contact with others, but
even so, the sheer relief and pleasure at being *alone*, at knowing that
there wasn't anyone else for further than he could scan with his
tricorder was, well, refreshing.

He loved Angelienia. Loved having her there to talk to, to dance with,
to cook for, to hold, loved having her spend time with him, and loved
the fact that she was simply *there* - but until he'd taken his first
breath on the surface of New B'Hala after the runabout's transporter had
deposited him there on approach to the settlement he'd not realized how
much he'd needed to be alone, to have time to himself without others
around him, no matter how much he cared for them.

And, as he stood there on the dry plain, looking up at the mountain
range whose foothills he was to scout for tunnels and fortifications
that a resistance movement whose experiences harked back to the
Cardassian occupation of Bajor might have constructed... he was alone.

And loving it.

It had, he realized, been years since he'd hunted - since he first
boarded the Galaxy in fact - and the sense of being alone, of facing the
wilderness and his prey with no one there to help him, of knowing that
he was dependent on his own skills and will to survive was something
that he'd needed. He wasn't really hunting today - not in the sense of
the word that he normally meant - but it was close enough. He was alone
in the wilderness with a mission and no backup within range of easy
assistance. That was enough for now.

He checked his bearings, settled the pack he'd assembled on his
shoulders, and started off towards the mountains. He'd swapped out the
formal clothing and other trappings of civilization that had originally
been packed back when he and Angelienia were under the assumption that
he would be dealing with diplomats and meetings, replacing them with a
completely different load-out at the last minute on the flight deck.

While Starfleet had undergone its last uniform refit twelve years ago,
back in 2373, the changeover had, out of necessity, left the
Quartermaster Corps with a tremendous number of now-obsolete uniform
replicator patterns that they'd purchased rights to for years longer
than they would now be issued. Usually this was a matter of a few
decades at most, but in some cases dealing with specialized clothing
items, a century or more wasn't uncommon. Added to the issue was the
large stock of camouflage patterns and tactical uniform patterns that
were created back during the Dominion War and rarely used since then, as
there was no real way of mistaking them for anything other than a
military uniform, and Starfleet was - the upper echelon Hawk and Dove
conflict aside - by and large trying to stop the perception that they
were a purely military force from becoming ingrained in the Federation
consciousness.

In pre-replicator days, this would have meant that there would be
literally millions of uniforms left lying around in warehouses by a
style and color change, sitting there and gathering dust while someone
tried to figure some way to recoup at least a portion of the financial
outlay Starfleet had invested in them. In a post-replicator environment,
the Quartermaster Corps wasn't hampered by the issue of having metric
tons of obsolete uniforms lying around... but they still hated to not
get their money's worth out of the replicator patterns they'd paid out
portions of their budgets for. So many of the patterns were still listed
there in the master Quartermaster Inventory if one knew where to look,
concealed under layers of menus and sub-menus that carried names like
'Alternate Clothing Issue, Command Approval Required' and 'Suspended
Issue Clothing Patterns' until the date they'd been purchased to was
reached.

Victor wasn't certain that the XO had realized she was giving him
permission to access those codes - many of them for items that he
considered superior to the equivalent items in the top-level inventory -
when she verbally agreed to let him replicate a new load-out, or even if
she knew that the codes were there to begin with. Most people didn't -
or didn't care if they did know. The single raised eyebrow he'd gotten
when she'd seen him suited up just before transporting down certainly
suggested that she'd never seen anyone wearing a 2361-era Field Jacket,
Wilderness Pattern, resurfaced with a circa-2322 Sub-Tropical Mountain
Camouflage Pattern before. Much less, he suspected, anyone wearing that
jacket paired with a Planetary Exploratory Field Uniform circa 2367 that
had been overlaid with the same camouflage pattern as the Field Jacket,
a pair of Planetary Exploration Boots, Extended Wear, circa 2350, and a
Starfleet Marine-issue combat pack from 2357.

Thanks to the overall thematic approach to clothing design that
Starfleet had held to for the better part of a century and a half, the
garments all were of a similar enough style that they weren't
mismatched, especially given the camouflage pattern that Victor had
applied to the clothing, but the effect was definitely not one that
would normally be associated with Starfleet. Which, of course, had been
what Victor wanted... along with the replicator codes for the clothing
items he was wearing in case he needed them later. The Quartermaster
Corps would simply delete them when they timed out, losing the codes
forever, but Victor found the garments - having originally worn versions
of them years before while hunting a Capellan Power Cat - far too
comfortable, utilitarian and stylish to just let them fade away.

Straightening up, Victor took a deep breath, reveling in the clear,
unspoiled air, and started off towards the mountains. If he kept to a
good pace, he could be at the foothills in no more than two of his
hourly check-ins with the XO and Suder, and still be within the range of
the runabout's transporter thanks to the signal booster they'd dropped
in orbit over the settlement as they came into the system. With any
luck, if there was going to be a problem, it would happen in that time
frame and he could just activate the recall and be carried to the
settlement and set about freeing his teammates from whatever
ill-conceived confinement they'd been placed in.

****

Someone had been here.

Victor knelt down next to the faint impressions in the ground and
frowned down at them. Definitely a human - or someone with feet shaped
like one, which only left a few thousand possibilities. He measured the
distance to the next imprint, and then the next with his eyes. Less than
Victor's own height by thirteen centimeters or so based on the stride,
and lighter by fifteen or sixteen kilos by the imprint's depth, so
either a large woman or an average-sized man. Tracks didn't reveal
motivations, though, so it could still be anyone out here for almost any
reason.

Except...

Standing up slowly, he traced the nearly invisible line of the trail
he'd first picked up at the base of the foothills and had now followed
for eleven kilometers.

Except... the trail had just appeared in the middle of a bare stretch of
earth, with no signs of tracks leading up to their appearance. Like the
person leaving them had just appeared by magic - or by transporter.

That still wasn't an indication that the person whose faint trail he was
following was planning anything that Victor needed to concern himself
with. They could be a botanist, or geologist, or a sport hiker, or any
number of things. People used transporters for a reason - they were a
convenient way to cover large amounts of distance quickly. If he
arrested everyone that used a transporter, even just the ones that used
it in and around restricted areas or suspicious activity zones, then
he'd have to arrest himself as well, and that was absurd. If Victor were
going to arrest himself, there were far more serious - and legitimate -
things that he should use as the base charges than 'suspicious
transporter activity.'

Still...

He followed the erratic trail with his eyes again. Whoever this was had
used the single best route from their beam-in point to where Victor was
standing to maximize concealment from ground-level visual observation -
and that wasn't the act of someone that was casually out in the
wilderness.

It was the route that Victor himself had chosen after some study of the
terrain, and, truth be told, the tricky nature of the footing along the
route was the reason he'd found the trail in the first place: he'd been
about to step over a small crevasse in the rock, had looked down to
check his footing, and had stopped as he saw the clear sign of someone
else having placed their foot incorrectly and subsequently scraped the
rock in passing. From there, he'd back-tracked the trail to its
beginning, reasoning that it would be easier to follow in lower
elevations, were the soil was less rocky. He'd been correct, and, once
he'd determined that the person leaving the trail had beamed in, Victor
had been forced to double back to where he'd initially cut the trail,
and start following it forwards again.

In the eight kilometers and since he'd started forward-tracking the
woman he was following - Victor thought of the individual making the
trail as a woman not because of any actual evidence to support that, but
because the tracks just had a feminine 'feel' to them - Victor had
mulled over whether or not he'd been wasting his time. There wasn't any
evidence to support the idea that the trail-maker was an insurgent or
possible insurgent, but... if that were the case, then why had she been
moving into the foothills in such a manner? A woman with nothing to hide
would have just walked in, bold as you please.

Victor knelt down again, and placed his hand over the faint footprint,
as if doing so would let him touch the woman that had left it, would
provide him with some insight as to her motivations and behaviors. The
rocky soil was warm to the touch, and the heat soaked into his palm as
he stayed there for a moment, letting his thoughts empty.

He floated there in the emptiness of his thoughts for a long moment, an
eternity by some standards, only a few minutes by others. Except, he
realized, he wasn't really empty - he was full. Full of life. Full of
love for life. Full of love. Full of love for Angelienia. Full of
friendship. Full of... everything. And because he was full, because he
was complete, he wasn't the same any more. He was different.

He stood up and brushed his hand off on a pants leg. No, he wasn't
wasting his time. He knew that. He'd just needed to decide to trust his
instincts; that was all.

Whoever the woman he was following was, they were the one that was
empty. They were like he'd been a lifetime ago, before Ella and
Angelienia and Sakonna: empty, hollow, just going through the motions of
life and waiting for the moments that they could unleash the monster
that they kept locked away inside them. Victor could feel it where the
nothingness had soaked into the ground in the moment that the woman had
stepped there, tainting the dirt. No one like that would be out here to
look at the stars, or to study rocks - they were here because they had a
reason... and there was only one reason that made sense.

What the empty woman didn't know was that he was going to fail, that she
wasn't going to be allowed to unleash the thing inside him on the
Starfleet evacuation teams.

With a small smile, Victor stood and scanned the slope ahead of him, the
tiniest glint of light above him alerting him to the fact that he was
being watched with non-powered optics. They - he knew there'd be more
than one, there always were in situations like this - knew he was
coming, and that was fine. They'd be nervous and nervous people were, in
many ways, easier to deal with than determined ones. They made mistakes,
jumped the gun, acted erratically.

Despite his orders to not kill - orders he understood and agreed with -
Victor was going to stop him; stop the empty woman without killing
anyone. Victor didn't have to do that any more, not now that he was
complete. He could... but he didn't have to. He didn't have to be a
killer any more, no matter what he was born to be.

He hoped the empty woman would appreciate the distinction when they met.

"Sublime Appreciation, Part 2"

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Unnamed New B'Halan Insurrectionists

****

"What's he doing now?"

"Standing there."

"That's it?"

"No... he's looking this way, now. Looking... at me. Directly at me!"

"Idiot! You didn't extend the flash hiders over the lenses, did you?"

"But how did he know where to look in the first place? No one thinks
about purely optical devices like this any more; they use scanners and
other devices."

"He would. And he knew where to look because he's been following my
trail from yesterday."

"What?"

"He followed my trail. Are you deaf?"

"But how? No one follows your trail."

"He did. I was careless a few times, but even so, I think he'd have cut
my trail and found us. I didn't expect Starfleet to send someone like
him."

"Someone like him?"

"Someone like me: a hunter." The smile on the speaker's face was evident
in her words. "A killer."

"They sent one man?"

"With someone like him, more would be a waste. There, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That - he did it again. He's using the terrain to keep anyone from
drawing a bead on him now that he knows we're watching him. Short,
erratic movements from cover to cover - but always along the line of the
path I took, and done casually, as it weren't on purpose. Beautiful,
simply beautiful. He's right out there in the open... and I don't have a
shot at him." The speaker sighed wistfully. "The Prophets only know what
the two of us could have done together if I'd met him years ago."

"Umm... shouldn't we do something? Try and shoot him or something?"

"Shoot him? No, no point in that. We just wait, that's all."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

"For him, of course. He'll be here tonight - after the clouds roll in
from that storm coming in from the west and occlude the moon and
starlight."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's how I'd do it. He'll come in then, and want a look
around before he decides what to do. That's when we'll get him."

"Isn't that... isn't that dangerous? I mean, won't he know that's what
we'll do... if he's like you and all?"

"Yes, yes he will. That's what makes it interesting."

****

Victor was certain that the people holding him prisoner were confused.

Well, scared and confused.

He'd expected that they'd lay a trap for him when he came into the
caverns to have a look around, and had also expected that they'd know
that he knew - or at least that the empty woman would know - that they'd
be waiting for him.

The real question hadn't been who knew what who knew - but what everyone
was going to do about it.

The insurrectionists had been ready for a fight, and hoping they
wouldn't get one. Or, at least, all but one of them had been. Victor on
the other hand had also been ready for a fight. The difference had been
that he knew there wasn't going to be one. If someone started shooting,
then people were going to get killed, and that was against his orders.
So, no shooting, no fight, no deaths.

He'd actually made it further into the caverns without being detected
than they'd expected, even knowing he was coming, and he'd had plenty of
time to see what he needed to see, and to plant a pair of signal
repeaters to ensure that his new, secure combadge would be able to get a
signal out past the mineral deposits in the mountain range. One of the
repeaters might be found, but the odds were against both of them. Even
if they were, the combadge itself ought to be able to handle things,
since Victor had also set up his tricorder as a relay point.

With communications secured, he'd simply kept looking around until the
insurrectionists had finally located him - he assumed it had been by the
simple expedient of having someone walk within three meters of him and
realize that he was there - and had laid an ambush within the caverns
for him. As such things went, and given the time, materials, and
personnel they'd had available, it really wasn't all that bad.
Especially the empty woman's part; Victor had almost missed her -
almost, but not quite.

The expression on their faces when he'd simply walked into it, stopped,
looked around, and then raised his hands in surrender had been
priceless.

He hoped the tricorder images came out.

After that, there'd been the ritual surrender of weapons and the search
for same - although Victor noticed that despite the presence of the
empty woman watching the proceedings, they'd somehow managed to miss his
old-style Type-1 Phaser. For whatever reason, most people searching him
missed it - likely due to the size and shape and the fact that it didn't
register on many weapons scans due to the age of the design and
components. At least, that was the only reason *he* could think of that
as many people who'd searched him since he'd gotten it had missed it.

"So," he asked as his captors looked - with a little consternation, he
noticed - at the phaser rifle and pistol that he'd surrendered to them,
and the survival knife, multitool, entrenching tool, and other items
they'd decided were weapons, "is there something wrong?" The rest of his
gear they'd set to one side, after smashing his standard-issue combadge
and making sure that his tricorder was apparently turned off. Victor
hoped that no one considered the idea that he'd turned the display,
audio tones, and processing lights off to make people think that.

"Where are the rest of your weapons?" one of them, a young man barely
into his late teens, asked warily from the other side of the room.
Victor's intentions aside, he appeared to be having his normal effect on
the people he'd surrendered to, and they'd made him stand three meters
away with his back to a wall as his effects were searched.

"Did I need to bring more?" Victor asked politely. "I'm sorry, how very
rude of me. Suppose you lot wait here and I'll go back and get some
more? How would that be?"

The empty woman - revealed to be half Cardassian/half Bajoran - snorted.
"Not likely."

Victor smiled, even though he knew it wouldn't help the situation, "Just
trying to be polite."

She snorted again. "What else are you carrying?" Rather than wait for
Victor's answer, she scanned him again. "Right pants pocket. Left jacket
pocket, top level. Bring them out slowly - jacket pocket first."

"Of course," Victor nodded. "Don't want anyone getting excited, do we?"
He reached up with careful deliberation, opened the jacket pocket, and
took out the small silver locket that Angelienia had given him when he
left for his departure. "Keepsake item, one each," he offered helpfully
to the young woman who was logging in his effects as they were
inventoried. "A silver locket on a braided silver chain. Locket contains
a small holo-image projector that displays a series of images and sounds
when opened." He held it out.

"Open it there," the empty woman suggested with a frown.

Victor shrugged. "If you like." He opened it, and continued to hold it
out as a small holographic image of Angelienia appeared in the air over
his hand, smiling at him. "I love you, Victor," she said with one of the
smiles that made her face light up. The image held there for several
seconds, and then clicked to the next image - Victor and Angelienia
dancing - and then the next - Angelienia trying a mouthful of the
Andorian Sea Bass dish Victor had made for her, purpling, and reaching
for some water - and finally another image of her in uniform waving to
him. After the last image, the locket clicked off. "I have to close it
and open it again to get it to repeat," he explained.

"Pretty girl," the empty woman said blandly. "Hold it out again." When
he complied, she scanned it. "Alright, nothing there but what you said;
you can keep it." She seemed disappointed, though whether the locket
hadn't been a miniature death ray, or that Victor knew a pretty girl, he
couldn't say. "Right pants pocket."

Victor obligingly reached in and produced the Starfleet
Intelligence-issue combadge the XO had given him. He was rather proud of
the look he'd achieved with only a few cosmetic alterations.

"What," the empty woman snapped, "is that?"

Victor looked at it. "It appears to be a Starfleet issue combadge."

"Appears to be?" she asked suspiciously, as more weapons were raised to
cover him from around the room.

"Well yes," he nodded, and then added conspiratorially, "But it's not."

"What is it, then?" her weapon rose to cover him for the first time.

"Oh," Victor smiled and continued in his conspiratorial tones, "It's
actually a cutting edge Starfleet Intelligence combadge, outfitted with
sensor blanks to avoid detection, and advanced signal and encryption
abilities to defeat any jamming technologies you're likely to have."

"Give it here," she snapped."

Victor held it out and she snatched it from his hand to study it.
"Targshit," she spat after a moment. "This thing's charred up from
disruptor fire, held together with transparent sealant, and shows signs
of being worn in a specific pattern." She held the combadge in her hand
and rubbed a thumb along one edge. "Like this." She scanned the
combadge. "It's inert, circuitry's fused; probably from the disruptor
fire that charred it." She looked up. "You're a funny guy. This is
another keepsake." She threw it back to him. "Where'd you get it shot
up?"

"I was on the ground during the Battle of Romulus," Victor offered after
catching the combadge, being careful to hold it so that his thumb fell
along the rubbed track he'd added to the case. That had nothing to do
with answering the question, but his interrogator didn't know that.

Several of the people covering him looked at him with renewed interest.

"Hmmm," the empty woman nodded. "How'd you do?"

"I'm alive," Victor returned, which wasn't the answer he knew she
wanted.

"For now," she grunted. "Now get in the cell over there, and don't give
them any trouble, or you won't be."

"All right," he nodded. Victor paused at the door and met the empty
woman's eyes. "Seven hundred and six," he said quietly and walked into
the cell, closing the door behind him.

"Seven hundred and six what?" one of the others asked.

"Shut up," the empty woman responded. "Just... shut up."

In the darkness of his cell, Victor smiled - and stroked his combadge,
which had transmitted the entire procedure to his tricorder, which was
busily and silently sending it on to the runabout and Commander Iniara.
No, no one was dying today.

It was sublime.

And he thought that the empty woman had appreciated it too.

Who'd have thought that *not* killing people would feel so right?

"How'd That Get There?" Part 1

Lt Chris Daniels
Ens Artim Shivar

Transporter Room 2

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

Chris entered the transporter room with a steeled look in his eye. Away duty was something he
relished...away duty involving settlement relocation--essentially the same mission he was on when
he had been stabbed in his side with a very long shank--was soemthing that he usually avoided at
all cost. Unfortunately, with the 'relocation' not going the way Starfleet envisioned it, every
spare hand was being sent down to the planets of the Vered cluster.

Which meant that the Tactical officer who was newest on the ship got tagged to lead one of those
teams.

He looked around at his team. He was still so new to the ship so none of the names, 2 other
officers and two enlisted, rung a bell.

Artim knew it was only a matter of time before he got sent out on one of these evacuation teams.
Fortunately they hadn't done something demeaning like putting him in charge of keeping the kids in
line. Was quite refreshing to be take seriously. Being medically trained helped there as he'd been
sent along to lend additional medical support to one of the teams. When he got to the transporter
room he didn't recognize many of the people along with this group. Well, he recognized the
imposing Tellarite security officer but couldn't quite put a name to the face. As he stepped
forward into the room he looked up to the other officer and said as cheerfully as he could manage
after a sleepless night,

"Artim, life sciences. Pleasure to join you"

Chris looked down at Artim and resisted the urge to shake his head in disbelief. He thought he
had seen it all with the 4 armed CAG and then the living hallways on Atlantis...so he just passed
off the incredibly small man in front of him and forgot about it, extending his hand.

"Chris Daniels. Good to meet you, Ensign." He looked at the rest of the party. "Everything
ready?"

"Yup", Artim replied simply. "Sooner we get down there the sooner we can get this over with."

"Aight, simple mission. Go down, get them outta there, go home. I don't like it, but its our
job. Don't get dead, aight?"

"No problem. I can do that."

Chris turned his head to the transporter. "Aight, let's do this then."

****

Planetside
Epsilon Vered

----------

They were dropped right in the middle of one of the settlements. Chris was immediately left to
wonder what these people were smoking when he saw the terrain. Barren, dry, and hot with barely
edible scrub brush everywhere. The preliminary briefing described the area as similar to the West
Texas plains on Earth. Sparsely populated, it was on the extreme outskirts of the nearest true
population center. A single river ran near the settlement, providing what looked like the power,
water and other associated utilities for the inhabitants. Fairly standard areas of housing were
clustered in groups of 3 or 4, totalling what looked to be like 200 total inhabitants.

Chris looked at Artim with a cynical look on his face.

"Looks like we got the garden spot..."

"What were you expecting, Risa?" It was the Tellarite gaurd who actually said it but he only beat
Artim to it by a split second.

"No, but I was expecting there to be more interesting flora then some common grasses. Come on, we
should probably go talk to the person in charge around here.", Artim replied as he started off
towards the settlement.

Chris turned back to look at Tellarite. Comparing this dump to his birth planet was borderline
offensive to him, but he let it slide. He pointed at two of the enlisted guys. "You two, take a
peaceful approach to surveying the area. Try and find out if we're going to run into any problems
getting these people off the planet."

The two Crewman nodded and walked off. Chris started walking with Artim and the other officer, a
red haired human science Ensign.

He looked down at Artim. "You got any experience with this sort of stuff?"

Artim looked up quizzically for a moment and replied, "Diplomacy, not really. Being evacuated from
a colony, sure do. Did it three times before not to mention being taken from my homeworld. Wasn't
pleasant any of the times, well, except maybe going from home to Earth."

Chris nodded. "Well, that's more than I can attest to. I know this sucks, but you want to play
to his emotional side while I present the...rational side?"

"Sounds like a plan, but who knows, we might find one that's already rational though I don't
expect it.", Artim replied as his eyes started getting attracted to certain plants.

They continued to walk for another minute or so. Chris wiped his brow with his sleeve. It was
damn hot down here, and his uniform wasn't helping. He'd have to scrounge some water out of his
pack before it was all said and done.

The few settlers that were out as they walked by gave them looks that indicated that they knew
exactly what they were there for. They were dressed simply, yet cleanly, indicating that, if
nothing else, this wasn't a struggling settlement despite the less than favorable environment.

Chris couldn't help but feel empathy for these people and what that were being asked...forced...to

do. It didn't feel right for him, coming down here and giving them an eviction notice. So many
times throughout history stuff like this had resulted in the same ending, which usually resulted
in a lot of people dying, lives torn apart, and so on. It was an untenable situation to be put in
from either perspective, and the young Lieutenant did not envy himself for his position.

As the Starfleet personel walked through the settlement the settlers all shot looks in their
direction. The same sort of looks Klingons would shoot at a Romulan walking around Qo'nos or a
Xanthe would get on Cait. It was quite disconcerting even to Artim who was used to getting weird
looks. These people knew what was up and it was clear most of them didn't want to leave.

Eventually, they saw what could only be the settlement leader and his small group of advisors
walking towards them. Chris stopped for a second and took a deep breath.

"Alright...showtime."

At about this moment both Artim and the red-headed science ensign both had their attention
wrenched away towards a seemingly innocuous bush.

"Is that what I think it is sir?" the redhead asked.

"Bloodthistle, indeed. But isn't that only found on...", Artim answered though he was interrupted
by the redhead.

"Yeah...what the hell is it doing here. You want a sample?"

"Yeah, if they'll allow it. Soil samples too. I'll catch up in a minute." The Miran then turned
back to Chris. "Sorry sir. I'll...explain later. Actually, might want to ask him where that bush
came from...it shouldn't be here."

"Dreshayans are French" Part One

Featuring:
Kaga: Civilian resident of Pienpoote from the Province of Ragule,
Central Dreshaya
Dabir: Ruling Elite from the Province of Champe, Dreshaya II
The Ruling Council of Dreshaya Central, II & III
& The Imperial Trinity, Master Eiji, Master Solatra and Mistress Ijenka

***Location: Pienpoote, Ragule Province, Dreshaya Central, High Court***

The location of the High Court was not something that was ever
publicized, however when it came to your town, you couldn't help but
know about it, unless of course you were blind, deaf and had no sense
of smell!

Kaga was lucky in that he had all three of those senses left, his
great grandfather however had none and was currently taking up
valuable space in his family home, spouting out dribble to anyone that
came within an inch of his feet. For some reason his great
grandfather had an obsession about his own feet and Kaga was not
certain whether it was a healthy one or not. Did his feet hurt? Or
was he worried that someone might tread on them? Was it a combination
of both? Or was that an erogenous zone that Kaga had yet to
experience when it came for his time to mate?

He shook the thought from his mind and quickened his pace, as if by
doing so he could leave the lingering smell of uncertainty behind him.
The problem there was that with each step he took he got closer and
closer to the situation that was causing the internal conflict and the
external excretion of emotional odors. It was a testament to his
youth that he had not yet mastered control over his own glands and
that fact alone caused more conflict than the idle thought of his
great grandfather's erotic feet!

He wondered momentarily if the trial in his mind would outweigh the
trial he was about to face; the conflict that his presence would
create in the Court House. Would he be spared for his lack of
etiquette because of his age? Or would that add condemnation to his
case and undermine everything he hoped to achieve?

The stark expanse of grey sky that habitually hovered over the
residents of the quiet suburban town of Pienpoote on Dreshaya Central
lent nothing to the debate that was being forged beneath it. Nor did
it do anything to lighten the mood of Kaga as he traversed the streets
with the intention to join-in that growing debate.

The overbearing dullness that appeared before the eyes of the general
populous each morning when the sun arose was not something that was
discussed. The weather upon Dreshaya Central rarely changed. It held
fast to the same ideals that the general public possessed; change was
not good. Nor was it something that was welcomed, yet it had suddenly
been thrust upon them.

After years of petitioning the Federation government to remove the
filthy, dirty, flea ridden Federation colonists from their ancestral
territory, (a letter that Himiet, the aide to the Imperial Trinity,
secretly adored writing on a bi-monthly basis) their demands had
*finally* been met. And while some might question 'why now' and 'why
so suddenly', Himiet firmly believed that it was down to his
penmanship alone that the 'mighty' Federation had caved, well that and
his oversized ego.

Yet while the ugatie had been dug up (after its eleven year stint in
the ground to ferment and mature) and subsequently enjoyed with a
salute to their success, the aftertaste was somewhat bitter as they
were still waiting to step foot on the planets that had been promised
to them. This, amongst other things, is what had caused the High
Court to convene.

Kagas well thought out plan to put forward his own views on the
subject, was to meet with a group of like-minded friends who would
help him to sneak into the Court House, (for you see Kaga was only
four and a half years old, the half being extremely important to
anyone under the age of ten, that being the designated age that a
Dreshayan could take a place on the High Court. And that in itself
was stipulated by the fact that not only must one be of age; one must
have also borne at least two litters. It was possible to take a seat
on the High Court earlier than age ten, however that meant that you
had to get 'busy with it' earlier and that too was a taboo!)

His friends would generate a distraction to draw the Imperial Guards
from the entrance, thus giving him unhindered access. However, Kaga
had learned at an early age that the term 'friends' was in fact a
foreign phrase that had infected the youth of today with its ideals
that people could work together and form a life long and life changing
bond that would, in a romantic world, transcend death and then
reaffirm itself in a forthcoming life time. The entire concept was so
alien to Dreshayan culture it was ridiculous to even consider it, but
Kaga had, he had even gone so far as to use the term to describe his
relationship with his classmates; those people he hoped to find
outside the Court House providing him the aforementioned distraction.

Dreshayan society placed no value on this term 'friendship', every
relationship was governed by contract which stipulated a time frame.
Even his parents conformed to this system, their bonding being a term
of five years only, a sixth ? optional year, was agreed upon in their
fourth year. That decision itself took into account their wealth and
whether it would be in their financial benefit to stay together or to
part and also what offers each partner had once their term was
concluded. The fact that their offspring were still in the throws of
the academic system at that point in time and still needed their
parents for guidance and above all a roof over their heads ? was not
something that was taken into account. However the genetics of the
children were.

Had their children done alright for themselves? Were they
intelligent? If the answers to these two questioned was no, then the
bond would certainly be broken after the fifth year and each partner
would be free to chose another, more genetically suitable, mate. And
as for the children, well once you hit five years old you needed to
find a mate pretty damned quick or in Kaga's case, try your hand at
leap-froging the system and hope that the Imperial Trinity thought
highly of your courage and arrogance and didn't reach into your
abdomen pouch and rip out your ability to pro-create!

Kaga lowered his head and crossed to the other side of the street so
that he might not offend the oncoming couple with his rather pungent
smell. His mind whirled on adding more troubling thoughts to his
already cluttered mind, a distraction technique that he wished he
might be able to trade some day for pure clarity!

The couple, having narrowly escaped a rather obnoxious moment,
pleasantly chatted as they continued down the cobbled street, neither
particularly bothered about current affairs, content in the knowledge
that politics was someone else's problem. Instead they idly conversed
about the latest drama to unfold in their small town, or rather their
small elite social circle, that being the recently unveiled plans to
twin the town of Pienpoote with a proposed city that would be called
'New Pienpoote' situated on one of the planets in the Vered Cluster,
one that as of yet hadn't been secured, however that minor detail did
not effect their discussion:

"?all that really matters," Xiane told her companion, "is that they
remove those ghastly structures, whoever designed them should be
shot!" she remarked somewhat coldly, "I mean, whoever heard of a
square house?" she asked her spinal ridges bristling at the thought,
"and as for the d?cor?" her voice trailed as the couple rounded a
corner and slipped out of earshot and in Kaga's mind ? out of
existence!

Architecture was the last thing on Kaga's mind, though as he rounded
the next bend in the street and came face to face with the Court House
he couldn't help but marvel for a moment at its aesthetically pleasing
design. The building was actually the town's entertainment centre,
and stayed true to Dreshayan design. It was an ellipse shaped
building, based on the shape of an egg, its peak rose in the centre
and sky lights littered the roof, gleaming in the sunlight like
diamonds. Of all the insults that could be thrown about regarding his
people and culture, not one could be given for the way in which they
designed their abodes. The skyline was not littered with tall oblong
buildings that cut away at the natural beauty of the horizon, but
complemented with structures that blended in with the rolling hills
that littered the country side.

The dome was large enough to accommodate the Ruling Elite from each
Province of Central Dreshaya and that of Dreshaya II and III, in
addition to these council men and women were the Imperial Trinity,
these three were the elected officials that presided over each of the
three planets that currently made up the Dreshayan Sovereignty, they
were the ones that had the last word. The Ruling Elite would argue
their case before each other and the Trinity, and it was the Trinity
that decided the fate of the people.

Within the entertainment centre that had been dubbed the High Court
for this occasion the debate had already started?..

"Council Part Two"

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

Location: Gamma Vered III - Administrative Building

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

As Ophelia gave a slight smile and was getting her information together and
as Knute was affirming how much she actually like Aesino, the large wall
screen changed from it's view over the Gamma Vered Administration Complex to
the face of Kaul's assistant.

"I'm sorry Ma'am for the interruption - but there has been some trouble,"
started the man.

Kaul looked at the screen and just nodded and as he spoke, Knute received a
call, as he tapped his earpiece, the comms unit reported that it was from
Will Lysander, his own assistant on Brass Monkey.

He listened to Will's report about the Nikkie Khrushko's death and the
wounding of a Starfleet Marine. He stayed quiet, only returning a gruff
'got it' after will had finished and broke the connection.

As he listened to the report on the situation of the shooting on Gamma Vered
II, he was unsure about mentioning what happened...no, he knew how to spin
this.

Having been paged herself, Kimberly had tactfully stepped to the side of the
room to answer her comm in private. Her own report on the incident was
brief and to the point, there were injured and she could be there in half
the time anyone else could be. Acknowledging the information she hailed her
shuttle and had a course set as she walked to Ophelias side. "I've got to
go," she said bluntly. "Medical emergency," she explained simply. "This is
getting out of hand fast." She muttered as she straightened up and stepped
back. "My apologies ladies and gentlemen but recent events mean I am needed
elsewhere?" unable to think of anything else to say she looked around for a
second before tapping her commbadge. "Energise." She ordered simply.

Arlin glanced at one of the attaches and nodded. The information had
already been sent to the Security Administration and no doubt Jean-Claude
Morvant was already making certain preparations on Lambda Vered I. The mere
fact that there have been hostilities this early indicated that his colony
needed to step up their preparedness...and steadfastness.

Zamora lowered her head, shaking it slowly back and forth.

Knute waited until the right time, "I think this should be a time for some
sanity, things have moved to a situation that no-one wanted."

"Perhaps we should adjourn and return to our respective colonies," Arlin
suggested. Not that he didn't want to be there, however it would be
reasonable that the other leaders should be at the helms of their respective
'ships' to keep an even keel.

Knute didn't want to agree with Lenst, but that was a reasonable idea - it
was just a gabfest here, Starfleet and Kaul had already made the decision
and had damned the whole cluster. Right now, with the situation on Brass
Monkey, his main concern was retaliation - not only from Starfleet but from
within the now polarised community that is his home, "I agree - it appears
that nothing will change from this point."

Arlin Lenst and his entourage began to get their things together to leave,
and a signal beeped just once in his hidden earpiece. The message was
received by Morvant, and measures were already being put into play. Things
could not have worked out better for the Corporation. They now had an
excuse to repel Starfleet with force without even the slightest provocation.

"So be it. This meeting is adjurned." Kaul stated sharply. "Travel
safe....and blessed be." Inwardly, she glanced around the table, her gaze
finally settling on Zamora. Ophelia returned the stare, a certain
understanding passing between them that only they had knowledge of.

"Very well." Ophelia muttered as she stood. Some things were not meant to
be she thought. Peace specifically.

Knute headed out of the meeting, his anger covered the disappointment, anger
at Nikkie Khrushko for taking it the this level, angry that it all had gone
to hell in a handbasket. As he walked down the corridor, a fist flashed out
and pounded against a wall. He still was pissed when he entered his skiff
and began his trip back to Brass Monkey.

Arlin and his entourage left and boarded their transport back to Lambda
Vered I. Several communiques were sent and received during the transport
time, all encrypted. He imagined that he would be making a statement upon
his return to Zanthus City.

LESSONS

Starring Sergeant Ieyasu Kurita (APC)

"He said WHAT?"

"He said for everyone to get their shit together and be prepared to move out
at a moments notice. We're gonna wire the town for demolition and use it as
an object lesson for the hostiles."

"Demo the town?"

"Yeah man?.we're gonna waste this fucking burg and salt the earth, raze it
to the 'effing ground." Marine Corporal Riles rubbed his hands gleefully.
"Its scorched fucking earth all over again man!"

Members of the Marine task force were huddled in a circle inside an occupied
Vered bakery. Marines were munching on 'liberated' bearclaws and such while
they digested the implications of Colonel For'kels new orders.

"That's insane." Sergeant Ieyasu Kurita shook his head in amazement, not
believing his ears. "You must of heard him wrong Riles. Aint no way."

"Im telling you 'rita?.I was fucking right there. So was Coakley man. Demo
and salt man?..as well as some quotes from Gone with the wind I didn't quite
understand."

"What the hell for?" The Japanese Marine protested. "Everybody's already
left. They're evacuated. Why are we blowing up their shit?"

Sergeant Coakley, a gaunt hard nosed man from Dallas interrupted. "Object
lesson 'rita. With the enemy in the hills taking pot shots at us, the
Colonel is wanting to use the town as an object lesson. Standard
tactic??like the razing of Vietnamese villages?..the Fire bombing of
Dresden, or Sherman scorching Georgia."

"Wait Darius?.he *said *that?" Kurita was shocked. "He actually used those
examples?"

Coakley shrugged, tearing an end off a French loaf. "Sure?.also said
something about being just like nuking Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

Sergeant Kurita bristled. "The hell? Darius, I fucking grew up just across
the bay from Nagasaki. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that example is?
*Futsutsuka desu*!"

Half the Marines present were wondering what was burrowing up Kurita's butt,
while the other half were listening with intense interest. They too had
doubts about these new orders.

"Nagasaki??South Vietnam??Dresden??.Georgia." Kurita counted off the names
on his fingers. "Those places were fucking at war! Waka*rimasu ka*?"

Riles jumped in pointing a finger. "So the fuck are we man! What the hell?"

"Not with the Colonists Greg!" Ieyasu barked. "You keep calling them the
'enemy'?.shit??these are Federation civilians we're supposed to be rescuing.
We got a few guys in the hills with rifles, but we're not at war with the
damn colony! Hai? This is the Federation?.we're supposed to be protecting
them."

"Protecting them? You stupid Jap?..they shot the Colonel??they want to
fight, then we'll fucking give them one! Kill or be killed."

"No its not." Kurita ran his fingers through his close cropped hair not
believing what he was hearing. "Crap man?.Im pissed too??Those fuckers with
the guns can take a flying leap for all I care, but we're here to save these
people?..not defeat them in battle?.."

"Its just an object lesson?.." Coakley interrupted.

"We're not here to teach them a lesson either Darius! Shit?..If they're
taking pot shots, we seal off the area?..send in the remotes with high-gain
sensors, and beam their asses into the brig. We don't alienate our own
people just on the hopes they turn the bad guys in. This is supposed to be a
fucking rescue. *Kyushu's wa desu*."

Corporal Riles was beat red with anger. Normally Kurita was a pretty cool
guy, but didn't he see the seriousness of the situation? These shits had to
be taught a lesson.

"What the hell are you sticking up for them for 'rita? "

Ieyasu tried to calm his buddies. The tension in the room was
palpable?..half the Marines siding with Kurita?the other half eager to blow
the shit out of the town.

"Sticking up for them? We're on the same fucking side! *Hia *Greg. That's
our job. We're Federation Marines?.we work for the Federation protecting its
citizens?..like these people. Saying we're at war with them is like saying
that we're at war with Mars. If they had an axe murderer running loose do we
blow up a Martian bio dome to try an d ferret him out? If this was some
natural disaster like a tsunami., and there were some looters running around
taking pot shots, are we gonna level the city we're rescuing just to get the
bad guys?"

He gestured out the window. "This is crazy?*atamagaokashii*?.what happened
to all those instructions we got before we left to be friendly with these
people and try and present the best image. Shit. Were the counselors wasting
their breath? Was the Captain?."

"That was before they started shooting Ieyasu. Now we fight back."

"Fight back? What against the whole town? We're sitting in a bakery?..did
the baker take pot shots at us? Do we destroy his property? How legal is
that? "

"So what so you want to do?" Coakley finally asked. "Disobey the orders to
blow the town?"

Silence hung in the air. That was the true question wasn't it. No matter how
the Marines were split, none of them liked the idea of disobeying orders.

"*Iie*??no." Kurita finally answered, "I'm just saying??this isn't ??.shit I
don't know what it is or isn't?.this just seems wrong. Its not what I signed
up for."

"Welcome to the suck sergeant."

Ieyasu Kurita glowered at his comrade for several long moments before
hefting his pack and making for the door.

"Where ya going 'rita?"

The young Japanese turned. "I'm going to sweep the town again for civilians
before the Colonel stages his lesson??if we're here to save lives, I'm gonna
start with saving the people whose homes we're about to blow the shit out
of."

"Road to Glory: Part 3"

Starring Miquelan Dar'ce

featuring Trevan Isar

=One Month Ago=

Trevan Isar and Miquelan Dar'ce sat on the bridge of the ship they had named Indel'lin, in honor of their grandmother. Over the past two months they had taken the ship throughout the Dolar asteroid field, which bordered the Trivon system. They had tested the impulse system, the thrusters, the weapons, and even the new weapon they had named the "ion blade." That particular device had obliterated a rather large asteroid, to the amazement of the crew they had brought along.

What made things easier was the fact that the construction base where they had been moored was here in the field. Miquelan and Trevan had bought the outmoded base years ago and upgraded it. They staffed it with people they trusted, because they knew they would hardly ever be present. When the opportunity arrived to take a leave from Starfleet, they decided to man the base themselves, and rebuild their grandfather's old warship, from the days of the resistance. There were six other private vessels in berth here, but Trevan and Miquelan stayed with the Indel'lin.

The two cousins were now preparing for their first cargo mission. They had contracted the Indel'lin to a Yanderin company to transport highly sensitive, and highly valuable, jadox compound. It was a new type of bio-neural gel, and was being manufactured by a private firm for new High Guard ships. Starfleet had made a bid for the technology, but the firm wanted to retain the rights, and so Starfleet had given up, knowing that such a small firm would not be able to manufacture enough to supply their needs.

The High Guard was testing the circuitry on a new class of destroyer, though the specifics were still classified. It seemed that being disowned by the Emperor kept even the friendliest lips tight. The two had tried every contact they had in the High Guard, but no one was talking. Even their fathers were keeping their distance. The only people in the family that would still speak to them were their mothers, and they had no idea what was going on in the military world.

Just as well, since they weren't really involved in the military world anymore. They would just transport their cargo to the planet Proscii in the Indiri system, and hopefully pick something up at the next free port they stopped at, which would probably be Oridec Station on in orbit of Indiri's second planet, Vendule.

They had to make it to Yanderin first.

The two decided that since Trevan was older, he would be ship's commander, though he was also the chief pilot. Miquelan would monitor ship's systems and operate the weapons in case of an attack, while a Man'de'har female, Drilan, operated sensors and communications. The bridge could be operated by as little as two people on the off shift, though Miquelan preferred three persons be present. During the ship's "day" there were five stations covered, as well as during emergency situations. The engineering staff consisted of the "Chief," an Indiri man named Peldra, and twelve crewmen. They had hired a private firm to supply security on the ship, and they had provided ten personnel. They were responsible for protecting the cargo and the crew. There were two extra pilots, one extra communications officer, and fifteen cargo specialists. These were responsible for loading, unloading, and maintaining cargo during the trip.

There was a small medical bay, with one doctor and two medical technicians. Enough for a crew this size.

The ship could have held far more crew, and the original design had far more crew quarters than the ship had now. Now, they had room for an extra hundred or so people, but the quarters were sealed off, and went unfurnished. In the event that the ship needed more crew, or was contracted by a diplomat or had to transport people, they could replicate some furniture with the two industrial replicators they had on board.

They were halfway to Yanderin when Drilan spoke to the cousins. "I'm getting a hail on a Starfleet frequency. Sir, they would have to know exactly where we are in order contact us, and there aren't any ships out there."

Miquelan brought up the tactical sensors to check for a cloaked ship, though he was fairly certain Starfleet wouldn't bother with that just to talk to him and his cousin. Trevan nodded to the comm officer, and said, "Put it through."

"This is Commander Aiken Drosal of Starfleet Operations. I am trying to contact Miquelan Dar'ce and Trevan Isar. Are they present?"

Trevan frowned, unable to come up with a reason why Starfleet might want to contact him on a leave of absence. "This is Trevan Isar, and my cousin is sitting here as well. What is it you need, Commander?"

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

=Two Weeks Later=

Starfleet had asked the two Ensigns to come back. Because of the new war with the Triad, they were recalling all those officers that were on leave, and contacting retired officers and crew as well. They had even suspended discharges of those officers and crew that had served their time and were preparing to go. It took hours of communications back and forth between Starfleet, the Indel'lin, and Xenon Prime, where the boys' fathers and grandfather had agreed to never again play politics with their Starfleet service.

After the initial cargo transport had been made, the Yanderin manufacturing firm had given the ship a one-year contract to transport their merchandise. Trevan had appointed a new captain to the ship, and the two agreed that their transport company would need a board of trustees while they were gone. Three of their closest friends were chosen to run not only the transport side, but also the shipyard side.

With these considerations taken care of, they took their ship to Starbase 343 out past Acamar. They were going to be there until the USS T'Pal left in two days. The T'pal was to take them to Starbase 12, where Trevan would take a transport to Earth. He was rejoining the fleet not as an operations officer, but as a fighter pilot. He was going to take the necessary training courses, and be back at the front lines in less than six months. Miquelan was to take the USS Terra Nova out to Starbase 481, and would then take a Starfleet passenger transport to Deep Space 4. He could hp a shuttle to the Galaxy from there.

Starfleet Operations had approved Dar'ce's reassignment to the Galaxy, noting that they were on a diplomatic mission at present, but would be on the front lines soon enough, and would need every able-bodied tactical officer they could get. Miquelan wasn't sure if the others on board even remembered him, let alone if he would get the same racist welcome he had received from his last roommate. The man had been positively xenophobic for a space faring person, and his manners were atrocious.

It was uncommon in this day for humans, to say the least. It had been an isolated incident, to be sure, but where there was one, there were always more.

Miquelan had taken part of his leave to study and incorporate new meditation techniques into his daily routine, thus strengthening his mental shields from unwanted thoughts and emotions from the many different races and people he would encounter on such a large ship as the Galaxy. As he stepped off of the transport and into the hangar of the Galaxy-class ship, Miquelan knew that he wasn't at home.

He was now at war, and he'd better act like it.

"Dreshayans are French" Part Two

Featuring:
Kaga: Civilian resident of Pienpoote from the Province of Ragule,
Central Dreshaya
Dabir: Ruling Elite from the Province of Champe, Dreshaya II
The Ruling Council of Dreshaya Central, II & III
& The Imperial Trinity, Master Eiji, Master Solatra and Mistress Ijenka

***Location: Pienpoote, Ragule Province, Dreshaya Central, High Court***

Within the entertainment centre that had been dubbed the High Court
for this occasion the debate had already started?..

"? the Federation are staling, they are wasting their time, that means
*our* time. They are fighting amongst themselves," Dabir's voice
boomed through the High Court with conviction and passion, compelling
everyone therein to nod in agreement, knocking on their benches in
affirmation that Dabir's words were an accurate assessment of the
matter at hand.

"The federation has bowed to our demands," he continued, taking great
pleasure from being centre stage, "and agreed to return to us what is
rightfully ours, and yet now they stall?" he exclaimed, the ridges on
his spine tingling with indignation as his glands excreted a decidedly
pungent odor, conveying his outrage.

"Shall we sit idly by and allow them to make fools of us with their
ineptitude?" he questioned the Ruling Elite as he stated his case
before the Imperial Trinity.

"I say it is time we take matters into our own hands!" he announced
forcefully, his chest swelling with pride as the Court filled with the
sounds of unity.

"See how even their own people report on their debacle?." Behind him
a vast hologram formed at his words, the unwelcome federation script
frozen in mid air before the Elite. With little more than a fleeting
gesture from Dabir the News report began to play, Doregar Arevlir, a
well known Federation journalist appeared on the screen, his lips
parted slightly, having been paused in mid sentence.

< 'DOREGA AREVLIR: But they persevered and they are STRONG for it.
Strong in mind and spirit, they have the hearts and souls of warrior
and poets alike! And while it is their duty to evacuate the colonists
from the Vered Cluster, they are NOT the enemy! That title falls
squarely on the shoulders of the Dreshayans!' >

The declaration from the lanky Human sent a wave of hostility through
the Ruling Elite that filled the Court House. The air changed in an
instant, the scent of fury and outrage filled the room with its
oppressive, heavy aroma and as the recording played on the tension
rose.

< 'The diminutive race of beings has opposed the presence of the
Federation within the Vered cluster since the first colonists arrived,
but until now they had nothing but empty claims to ancestral
settlements and habitations dating millennia in the past. I have
uncovered sources that point to a shocking truth about the evacuation,
details that the Powers That Be have elected to keep from the
population. Of the Triad, the Hydrans are the most visible threat to
the Federation and other of the Alpha Quadrant Powers. The
Federation's position within the Vered cluster is shaky at best.
There are suspicions within the investigation teams that these
terrorists have connections to outside sources; Hydran involvement is
most likely, though the Dreshayans have yet to be ruled out.' >

As the news reporter, Arevlir, said his goodbyes to the camera, his
parting words promoting the News station he worked for, the Court
house visibly shook.

"They are making a mockery of us, of our Empire and culture." Dabir's
voice strained to rise above the increasing booms of approval and
anger at the Federations assessment of their own foul up. "They jeer
us at every opportunity they get, implying that we are the enemy!"

Dabirs head began to swim with the knowledge that his opinion could
stir the usual docile Court room into such a fervent display and as
the room finally simmered to a dull roar he made is closing statement:

"I implore the Imperial Trinity to accept the Hydran's proposal and to
return home the Supreme Imperial Firsts so that we might take back our
territory with the firm hand that we know we possess and prove to the
rest of this Quadrant that we are far from the diminutive race of
beings that the Federation and its conquests have arrogantly label us
as."

The Court House suddenly erupted with a mighty thunderous roar of a
magnitude that threatened to shake the tiles from the roof itself!
Outside on the street civilians stopped and marveled at the sound that
filled the relatively quiet town of Pienpoote. Kaga too took pause as
he approached the Court, already shaky in his resolve to address the
Imperial Trinity; the volume did nothing more than to agitate his
already over analyzed position.

Yet as Kaga approached, he spied something that filled him with pride
and purpose: a small gathering by the side entrance of the
Entertainment Centre; his 'friends'.

As he waited for the right moment to slip past the commotion they
caused, he suddenly found faith in his own convictions. The people
that he schooled with had joined him, they had turned out to help him,
and in effect themselves. For it was not just Kaga's opinion he was
to put forth, but theirs also. And while a part of his mind jeered
his sudden belief in the infectious foreign phrase, the other half
saluted the notion that change could be good.

As Kaga entered the Court House the assault on his senses made him
wish that he too had lost his sense of smell! All that time he had
spent worrying about his inability to control himself appeared to be a
waste; that was until heads began to twitch in his direction. Even
though the room was dimly lit, only the current speaker, who just
happened to be Imperial Trinity Master Eiji, was allowed illumination,
slowly but surly what felt like hundreds of beady little eyes focused
on his shadowed figure.

Kaga felt his skin prickle, his spinal ridges contract and a rather
embarrassing trickle of fluid begin to run down his neck soaking into
the collar of his Tallif.

Master Eiji, having been in the middle of a declaration of what he and
his fellow Masters had concluded after Dabir's impassioned speech, was
suddenly silenced by the intrusion and the complete lack of attention
as it was so rapidly drawn away from him. His eyelids clicked loudly
in the silence that had descended as he blinked, hoping that he just
had a senior moment and imagined that a youngling had just entered his
Court and usurped centre stage while he was ruling. But no, as his
eyelids clicked open, retreating to the corners of their sockets, the
pungent stench of a prepubescent filled his nasal cavity, causing his
nasal flaps to twitch with disgust.

Almost instantaneously Kaga moved his arms to cover and protect his
midsection. The silence was not without a voice, the stares just
added hostility to the question that hung in the heat of the room,
'what the hell are you doing in *here*?' Feeling more nervous than a
Hora Cat waiting in line at the slaughtering house he stepped forward,
inclined his head, spread his arms out wide, (wincing all the while),
turned his palms forward, separated his fingers and in a low guttural
tone announced to all his presence in the traditional Dreshayan
greeting, "BAAAAAAAAN."

It was no surprise that not one person in the room reciprocated his
greeting; he hadn't earned his right to be in this room, to seek an
audience with the Trinity, he hadn't borne a litter or even completed
school. In their eyes he was a minor, and that was his true purpose
for being here. He and his 'friends' believed that the current system
of government was failing those it should support. For the younglings
to be without voice and to be without voice until the age of ten,
*after* producing offspring was something they no longer cared for.
The young wanted their rights too, and this political conflict was to
be setting in which they lobbied their campaign. It all now rested
squarely on the shoulders of Kaga. If he could be heard, and
*listened* to, then the rapidly forming political party of youngling
Dreshayans would have their precedent in which to embark upon a
petition for a change in the law.

But so far Kaga appeared to have pissed them off!

"I request an audience with the Imperial Trinity and the Ruling
Elite..." he announced in a shaky voice as he attempted to descend the
stairs that lead to the floor where the Trinity currently sat gawking
at him.

Kaga took the silence that followed his statement to mean he should
continue, and so he did? "I am here to challenge the Court," not only
did he challenge the court he metaphorically removed the pin from a
grenade and lobbed it straight at the people he was trying to impress!

"Dark Side Express"

Lieutenant Saul Bental

Flight Officer Ella Grey

Cadet Artemis Bancroft

With Dorega Arevlir, FNN reporter (Eric)

The Magtube was the primary public transpiration between the bright side
and the dark side. The cars were untypically packed, and the four officers -
now in civilian working cloths, purchased by Saul prior to leaving Zanthus
city - found themselves pressed tightly together near one of the emergency
exits. Barren views streaked outside the windows, grand desolate plains.

"That's where the plan ends." Saul broke the silence that descended on
them. "We'll get off at N'Gana Parish Township, and once we get there we'll
need to work something out before the evacuation teams beam down."

Artemis chewed her lip as she surreptitiously looked around at the other
people in the car. She wore her hair down to conceal the pointed tips of
her ears, the only easily noticeable feature that would reveal her Vulcanian
ancestry. It was strange to be wearing civilian clothes again after having
worn a Starfleet cadet's uniform primarily since she'd been about twelve
while aboard the Solstice.

"Sir, do you really think we can out-Ferengi them?"

The Dutchman smirked. "It won't even require huge lobes. Corporates are
like big machines. We just need to find out which screw we need to loosen to
make it malfunction. The Japanese I spoke with made me think we don't have
enough information."

He slanted his eyes toward Ella. "Think I can out-Ferengi them?"

"If there's anyone who could," She replied.

On the other side of the cabin, a screen flickered and came to life. Some
of the passengers huddled around it, trying to get a glimpse of the
broadcast.

"Let's make sure we're not there."

They made their way through the crowd, trying to get a good angle.

Saul half expected a wanted sign with their faces on it. Standing up to his
full height, he realized it was an FNN news flash. Interesting that the
executives allow news from outside to reach the workers. Perhaps the media
took an anti-evacuation stance and the Hollingston managers use it to fuel
their workers' motivation.

He stretched, trying to see who the news anchor was interviewing. He
regretted it instantly.

"Holy crap."

He could only watch with horror as his own cousin was presented to the
Galactic crowd watching the prime-time subspace broadcasts.

* * *

"...Arieh Bental is a noted political figure at Utrecht III, a Federation
colony. While may of you haven't heard about the place, I bet many of you
did not hear about the Vered cluster either until the evacuation. Rabbi
Bental?"

"Thank you, Dorega."

Beneath the Kippah, the short-cropped black beard that covered half of his
face, and the more dense eyebrows, Arieh Bental had a striking resemblance
to Saul. His attire was similar to the one Rabbi Ben Atar from Vered wore in
his famous broadcast, and not by accident. An orange band circled his left
arm near the shoulder.

"My world is far from the Triad forces." Arieh continued, "Yet I am here to
support Rabbi Vincent and the other brave colonists."

"I've come to understand as much," Dorega said. "Why is this?"

"Those of us who live far from the core worlds are used to being neglected
by the Federation. We handle it, it's not a bad price for freedom and
independence which are rare in this Galaxy. But now, the Federation has the
nerve to betray those who work tirelessly to keep the borders. Naomi Shemer
the Jewish songwriter once wrote: 'Don't uproot the planted'. I'm joining
her call to the President, the council, and Starfleet - don't uproot the
colonists of Vered."

Dorega nodded. "Supposedly, the Federation Council has mandated that once
the Vered cluster is once again safe the colonists will be allowed to return
to their homes. What is your educated opinion in such matters?"

"The Council also said that those who will not want to return will be given
generous compensation packages and re-settled on other planets of their
choice. You and I know that if the evacuation takes place, by the time the
war will be over the cluster will be settled by Dreshayans, or Triad
members."

Arieh Bental directed his face to the camera. Saul sighed. His cousin had a
natural knack in manipulating media and audience on the local scope, and it
wasn't diminished by the bigger audience of the FNN.

"Understand, my friends, that next time it could be us who are driven away
from our homes by an arbitary decision."

* * *

While it took some doing, the Security Administration agents were able to
get a general idea of where the Starfleet people were not. They weren't on
the Shuttle, and they weren't on the 'Bright Side'.

That left the 'Dark Side'.

However, that left a significant problem. While the Security Administration
would like the general populace to think that they're everywhere, the
reality is that they aren't...especially on the night side of the planet.
Oh, they had teams in place in each township, but not the sprawling presence
they clearly have in Zanthus City and the small communities on the 'Bright
Side'.

Which meant that they had to find them the hard way. By using the Mark
II's, the human eyes.

* * *

"We're slowing down." Nyoko indicated, pulling Saul's sleeve.

He rushed to one of the windows. There was fog outside, but he could just
make out a few details. There was a makeshift depot and some man-sized
silhouettes. He could also see the tail of a landed shuttle. He spun around.

"That station isn't supposed to be here." He told the others quietly.

"Change in plans, I guess," Artemis said. "Would it sound too paranoid to
say that they might know we're here?"

"It's an option.", Saul replied off-handedly. He concentrated on looking
around, assessing the mood and reaction of the other passangers. "I think
this IS a planned stop; People would be irritated if it wasn't. But it does
not appear on the maps we passed by at Zanthus terminal."

"Should we change the plan?" Ella asked Saul.

"What plan? I thought we'd convince the people at N-Parish the corp. is
screwing them, but--"

There were sounds from the front cabin. The people outside were boarding it.
Perhaps they were ordinary passengers; Perhaps they were corporate security.
There was no time to guess.

"Let's get off."

Artemis moved in beside Saul, feeling small amongst the adults. At least
one thing was certain, her first Away Mission seemed exciting so far.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Dreshayans are French" Part Three

Featuring:
Kaga: Civilian resident of Pienpoote from the Province of Ragule,
Central Dreshaya
Dabir: Ruling Elite from the Province of Champe, Dreshaya II
The Ruling Council of Dreshaya Central, II & III
& The Imperial Trinity, Master Eiji, Master Solatra and Mistress Ijenka

***Location: Pienpoote, Ragule Province, Dreshaya Central, High Court***

Kaga took the silence that followed his statement to mean he should
continue, and so he did? "I am here to challenge the Court," not only
did he challenge the court he metaphorically removed the pin from a
grenade and lobbed it straight at the people he was trying to impress!

Tick?

"I represent the young?"

"You most certainly do!" Eiji cut him off rather abruptly making the
poor kid pause in his step, literally tittering on the edge of the
staircase. "How old are you?" he questioned studying the puke before
him, "Three?"

"No Master Eiji," Kaga replied, hoping that he would at least score
points for knowing who he was, "four and a half." he announced
proudly.

Tick?

"Four and a half!" Eiji repeated his nasal flaps flickering in their
cavities, "Four and a half years old and you expect to waltz into my
court and challenge my ruling?" he questioned with a twinge of
hysteria in his tone.

"Yes Master Eiji." Kaga replied crisply. "I represent a key
demographic of this constituency, one that currently has no voice in
this Court, and it should. For the young are the future of this
Sovereignty and by denying us the chance to speak you are robbing us
of a future and condemning your own by perpetuating this system of
government." You could have heard a pin drop if it wasn't for the
sounds of clicking as everyone blinked in amazement. Kaga felt
himself swell once more and as Master Eiji drew in a breath to respond
Kaga continued his descent to the floor below sucking the wind from
the Masters lungs before he had the chance to use it.

"I propose that we do nothing in regards to the affairs within the
Cluster." He announced as he made his way to the floor, "The
Federation has already begun evacuating their colonists. However
messy they get, the dirt should stay on *their* hands, we aught to
have no part in it whatsoever. For if we do then we are the bad guys
that they are making us out to be. If we sit and wait then the facts
will speak in our favor, we did nothing to elevate the conflict and
therefore hold no responsibility over how many federation civilians or
military personal get killed, no responsibility and no
accountability."

Reaching the floor he bowed courteously to Master Eiji and then turned
his back on the bumbling fool, "Do not discredit my words just because
I am a youth. I implore you all to think with foresight rather than
impatience. Our Space lies on the doorstep of the Hydran Triad, and
the back door of the Federation. Both powerful enemies and just as
dangerous allies, for if we sway to either party, we are at risk from
the other. The Federation has already stated that it can not hold
this sector of space, that is evident from them giving it up, and the
Hydran's promises are laced with sap from the kana tree, the sweeter
the taste the more intoxicating the poison. If there is any
negotiating to be done with the Hydran it is to sign a non aggression
pact, and if that means allowing them free passage then that is
something to be considered. But to forge an alliance with them is
dangerous to our future. And by that I don't just mean the younglings
I came here to represent." He added turning back to the old man whose
jaw was hanging.

"We need to be looking inward rather than outward. Our defenses are
weak, even the Federation taunt us by refusing to answer our hails and
remove their war-ship from our space. Rather than taking offence by
there arrogance we should be looking for the reason behind it, and
while I don't like it, they have a point and have made it clearly. We
are not a threat to them. That is where our focus should lie, for if
the 'peaceful' Federation whose policy is *not* to conquer, see's us
as weak and insignificant the rest of the Quadrant must as well. I
put it to this Court that we concentrate on our own defenses and
prepare to defend ourselves rather than participate in interstellar
politics that will only see to our demise. May I remind this Court of
the conflict that caused us to loose the Cluster in the first place,
and urge them not to make the same mistake twice?"

BOOM!

"Do you presume to insult the intelligence of this Court?" Ijenka
asked from her position next to Master Solatra. She was the third
member of the Imperial Trinity, and while she was the smallest of the
three she was also the oldest and most respected. While her tone was
soft and demure it carried through the knocks and bangs of agreement,
halting the sound as if she had just pressed a mute button.

"Of course not," Kaga stalled turning to face her feeling his anxiety
retune with a vengeance.

"Do you not think that we take into account our past when presented
with a troubled future?" she questioned him directly.

"I? I?" Kaga stammered, lost in the haunting gaze of her shimmering
eyes and glistening silver strip that matched the color of her hair.

Ijenka stood up slowly, as the frailty of her body demanded she
should, yet even so the gesture was symbolic and once she straightened
the curve in her spine and revealed her true height, all of four foot
three, she commanded and owned the room.

"This Court looks upon a great many things, including the fact that
once we engage in the conflict over our ancestral territory our hands
may be stained with the blood of others, yet it also takes into
account how the Federation is trying to take it for us."

She turned from Kaga and began to address the Ruling Elite, "They do
not respect us and they show it by the way in which they are forcing
their own citizens from our land. Not only have they spilled blood of
their brothers, they are conspiring to destroy the habitat, to
eradicate any chance of not only their own from wanting the land by
spoiling it to the extent that nothing will ever grow their again, but
by decreasing our lust for it also. Not only have they contaminated
our land they are destroying it so that we can no longer settle there
as is our right."

Kaga found himself suddenly surrounded by darkness as the spotlight
centered on Ijenka. She sparkled under its illumination, and while he
knew she was past her mating years in that moment she appeared to be
the most desirable candidate he had ever laid eyes on.

"It has now become our duty to step forward and show the Federation
that their ways are not acceptable. We will not have our ancestral
lands contaminated in this way. We do not condone blood shed and we
are not the type of people to stand aside and let this debacle
continue. And as for allying ourselves with either or, you are right
youngling, we do not have the power to fight both, or even one, but we
do have something far more important and powerful to barter with. And
the Hydran are the lesser of two evils. If we ally with them, even in
part, we guarantee our future, for the Federation will not strike
unless we strike them. The Hydran have no such policy. They are
aggressive and they will take us if they realize what we are
concealing from them and from the Federation. If we give it to them
freely however, we hold the playing field in the palm of our hand, and
even the Hydran will bow before us."

A hush enveloped the Court House that was more poignant than the loud
applaud that had shaken it to its core for Ijenkas proposal was more
earth shattering than anything that had currently been put forward for
consideration.

TBC?

5883