"Getting to the Bottom of Things" -- pt. 1

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – CMO
Corporal Cianán Tierney

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sickbay ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Watching quietly as the Marine Corporal worked Kimberly nodded appreciatively at his deft touch, the cracked bone and burns were carefully being healed as she watched and while his reassuring banter could use a little work he was at least explaining what he was doing step by step.

Letting him finish before she approached, she cleared her throat gently and walked over. "Corporal," she greeted him. "Do you have a moment?"

Cianán looked up from his work at the Chief Medical Officer. "Yes, Lieutenant." Cianan had been in the company of two senior officers in the last few hours. That was one too many for him. He turned back to the crew member stone faced and apathetic. "You'll live. The nurse can help set up an appointment to be reassessed." The marine nodded curtly to the nurse. He turned on his feet and following the CMO to her office.

"Nice work by the way, you have a gentle touch. If you ever feel like taking a break from the marines you'd be welcome to slum it with us fleet types here in sickbay," she offered with a grin.

Cianán nodded unsure if 'gentle touch' was positive or negative. He opted for positive, "I appreciate that, ma'am." The Angosian had seen many die at his hands, it was nice to be able to give something back. "I think the Colonel might want to keep me a little longer, ma'am." Cianán said honestly. Truthfully, he was more comfortable in battle
than in sickbay. He had witnessed the operations in sickbay and was impressed with the Lieutenant's leadership. It was a well honed machine. Still, the chaos of battle was his place.

Letting the door close behind them she waved to a chair, "Have a seat, I wanted to have a chat with you about Commander Elessidil before I speak to him."

"Ma'am, before you begin. I haven't had a chance to talk to Commander Elessidil." Cianán was concerned that he would give away what occurred without the Commander's approval.

"I realise that Corporal," sitting she looked at the Angosian and recalled what she knew about them, not much being the easy answer. "That's why I wanted to speak to you now. I'd like to know what happened please."

"Lieutenant, Commander Elessidil, Lieutenant London and myself were ordered to assist evacuation of a rural community. Lieutenant London was called away. Commander Elessidil and I continued negotiating with community members that were not prepared to leave." So far everything had been factual. Cianán wasn't sure how to proceed. He thought for a very brief moment.

He continued, "Commander Elessidil experienced increasing trepidation about the means to evacuation and began to converse with the community leader. There was an incident and Commander Elessidil was knocked unconscious. We were evacuated shortly after, ma'am."

"What sort of incident?" She inquired, "Was it related to the abduction of Lieutenant London? Or the other hostile events that occurred?"

Cianán shook his head, "No ma'am, it was not related to Lieutenant London's abduction. It was of a personal nature."

"Corporal, a senior officer of this ship was assaulted and brought to sickbay. Trust me when I say there's going to be questions asked as to what happened. Now, if it's personal then Doctor patient confidentiality will keep it that way, but he was hit with quite a force, he's lucky his jaw wasn't dislocated. So, I ask again, what happened?" Still speaking softly her voice had kept a fairly neutral tone, but as she spoke she leant forward, arm crossed on her desk before her and stared at him. "Please." She added after a second.

"Lieutenant, I'm not sure if it was doctor-patient confidentiality or therapist-client confidentiality." Some of what Cianán told Brian was cathartic and therapeutic, though probably didn't constitute a session. Kicking a patient in the jaw was not considered a traditional medical technique and also probably didn't constitute a medical appointment. The marine's face was void of emotion.

Without giving away too much he tried to continue, "I only hope that you are able to check him out more thoroughly than I was able. He wasn't himself and I didn't know what to do, ma'am." Cianán looked back over his shoulder as though he had x-ray eyes and could see into sickbay where the Counselor rested.

"I'll speak to him later once things have calmed down, try and spend a little time with him, though I'm curious, what do you mean 'not himself'?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, "how so?"

Cianán thought clinically for a moment, then reverted. "The Counselor is typically collected and calm. I noticed increased agitation and alterations in his perception of the orders we were told to carry out." The marine stopped, grappling with internal struggles. "I think, ma'am, it would be best to get the information directly from him. My perception may have been clouded."

"Clouded? How so?" She inquired, at a loss as to much of what had happened on the surface.

Cianán looked at the Chief Medical Officer stone faced, but internally he swallowed and momentarily panicked. "Ma'am, I've been receiving therapy from the Counselor and that relationship may have clouded my perceptions of the situation."

"Corporal," pinching the bridge of her nose she sighed, this was like pulling teeth, the old fashioned way… "So, let me get this straight, the Commander was acting a little differently, things obviously got out of hand and someone cracked his jaw. I can only hope your report on this incident has a few more details than that. For now unless there's anything else you have to add?" She asked, leaving the question hanging in the air. She could make it a direct order to 'fess up, but that wasn't her preferred method, unless it really merited it.

"No ma'am," Cianán said with flat affect. The Angosian wished the conversation ended before it started.

Nodding to the ward she indicated he could leave, "Thank you Corporal, if anything else comes to mind I need to know though please contact me."

[OOC: Apologies for the major backpost. This occurs immediately after the evacuations from the Vered Cluster.]

"Getting to the Bottom of Things" -- pt. 2

Commander Brian Elessidil – Chief Counselor
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – CMO

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sickbay ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I am so sorry Commander," Kimberly apologised as she finally made it to Brian's bedside. With the chaos that had been wrought on board around the time he had arrived, the minor cases that didn't need immediate treatment had been moved out of the way while the casualties had flowed in, and the junior staff had attended to them while she had been otherwise occupied. After things had settled down though she had noticed on her non critical list the name of one person who most assuredly needed to be on his feet, the immediate casualties were her concern, the aftermath more his.

Now, after the dust had settled, the colonists packed away and the Galaxy tucked away in space dock for repairs she had at last gotten around to his follow up. Picking up the PADD that was hung at the end of his bed she looked over his notes. She had initially assessed him when he had come aboard, and given him something for the concussion, but the repair work to his jaw and ligaments had been put aside briefly as the ship had picked that moment to throw them all around the room.

The medication he had been prescribed had treated his concussion quite nicely she noted, and someone had been by to tend to his jaw. "How're you feeling Commander?" She asked as she scanned his jaw, checking that everything had been put back where it belonged, "any aches or pains you wanna mention?"

"Fine enough, I guess," he replied rather unconvincingly, even to himself.

"What happened? I thought you were just organising the evacuees down there? I take it they protested?" She had chatted with the corporal who had beamed up with him, but wanted to hear his side of events before she mentioned that.

"There was some...resistance, I guess you could say," he answered. "They should never have sent me," he added somewhat distractedly, slowly shaking his head as the feeling of guilt and remorse that had begun settling in after talking with Cianán earlier continued to hold. "I still don't think what we did there was right."

"Honestly Commander, I don't think you're the only one who's feeling that way. I've spoken to a few people who have voiced similar opinions." Satisfied that everything in his jaw was where it was supposed to be she clipped the scanned back where it belonged and looked him in the eye. "So, you feel like telling me what actually happened down there? Or how your jaw was nearly broken, dislocated and removed from your head?"

"Try to remove someone from their home, they try to remove your jaw," he lied succinctly, not wanting to implicate Cianán in any way. "I'll live. What I'm more concerned about is my own state of mind. I barely held it together down there, Kimberly. I can't remember the last time I felt so stressed or anxious."

"What happened?" She asked gently. Sitting beside the bed he sat on she raised an eyebrow, "It wasn't exactly an easy or pleasant assignment, a lot of people had reservations about it."

"Reservations is putting it mildly. I had reservations going into this. By the time we were actually involved, it was like..." he shook his head slightly for a moment, trying to recall the feelings and put them to words, "it was like I completely identified with the colonists' perspective. I know what you're thinking, I'm Betazoid, empathic abilities come with the territory at my level, but it was way beyond that. I completely lost sight of why I was there and what I was supposed to be doing. All I could think about was finding a way to get around the evacuation order. I didn't care that I was a
Starfleet officer with orders, I didn't care that leaving was the most logical course of action -- it was like I was functioning exclusively on emotional reaction."

"Can you remember 'why' you acted as you did?" She asked curiously.

"I remember all of it, but I can't explain why I behaved the way I did."

"And how about now?"

Brian thought for a moment. "When I woke up here, aside from the initial confusion, the stress was gone, but I felt a heavy sense of guilt. Cianán felt it too, I could tell, and that only seemed to make it worse."

"Guilt?" Raising an eyebrow she looked a little confused, "I can understand why you might feel that way, but why would the Corporal?"

"Well, we were making people leave their homes pretty much against their will...guilt was a pretty common feeling for most of us." He sighed lightly. "All I want to do right now is put all this behind me. I want to forget that we were even there and just clear my head again."

"I can understand that. Give me a moment though if that's okay, I'd like to get some blood and run a few scans before you leave. Just to be on the safe side if that's okay?" From what he and Cianán had mentioned Brian hadn't exactly been himself down on the planet, no harm in being sure.

"Whatever you want," Brian replied, still a little distracted by his own thoughts as Kimberly went about her business.

"Walkabout"
Part I, "My Coma"

Lt Chris Daniels
"Caty," portrayed by Elizabeth Mitchell(aka Juliette From LOST)

------------------------------------
Chris’ last conscious thought after being flung by K’aa through Artim and then into the Science 2 station revolved, roughly, around wondering what had become of his former Gorn friend and hoping to God that his actions had given the rest of the bridge crew time to take K’aa down.

Then, all too quickly, he passed out.

Which is why, an instant later, he was so surprised to be witnessing the fight from a standing position, on the opposite end of the bridge.

Adding to his apparent confusion was the unknown blonde haired, early middle aged women standing next to him in white.

Chris looked at himself quickly. His standard Starfleet uniform was now replaced by fairly bland, olive drab pants, a simple brown shirt and brown shoes.

The woman looked at him. “Hello Christopher.” When she spoke, the rest of the noise on the bridge seemed to fade into the background.

Naturally, Chris thought of one thing first. His reaction was to slump his shoulders and roll his head back, an expression of frustration he hadn’t done since high school.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit, I died, didn’t I? Son of a bitch! Where’s the white light? Where’s the pearly gates and all that?” He proclaimed to the ceiling.

The woman laughed. “No, not quite. You’re in pretty bad shape over there, but I think you’ll make it.” She nodded towards his slumped body on the other side of the bridge as she spoke.

Now Chris was lost. “So, if I’m not dead, and not dying, then what the hell is this? And furthermore, who the hell are you?!?”

The woman smiled a comforting smile, one that, for some reason, seemed to put Chris at ease. “My name’s not important, but you can call me…call me Caty.”

“Caty? How’d you get here?”

“Through you. You see, I’m a part of every Lirisi’s soul.”

“Lirisi, you mean this some Risan mythological thing?”

She smirked again. “You should have listened to your mother when she was trying to teach you as a child. Despite your denial of it, Lirisi spirituality does have quite a stronghold on you, young man.”

Chris shook his head. He must have hit his head really damn hard to be hallucinating like this while unconscious. “This is insane…can I just go back to my coma?”

Caty looked at him. “What more do I need to do to make you realize this isn’t a hallucination? Remind you of all those things that female voice told you on the Miranda that you never admitted to?”

Chris was taken aback by that. “That was YOU?!”

She winked. “I tried to tell you I’ve always been here with you…like I said, should have listened to your mother.”

Chris was lost again. This was either real, or a really trippy reaction to the drugs the medics were giving him. “So what are you doing here?”

Caty turned to the turbolift doors and looked over her shoulder. “Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

“But what about the fight?”

Caty looked at him cynically. “That? Lizard gets taken down here in about a minute. You guys win. Not very exciting. Besides, what do you care? You’re lying in a heap in a console. Now get your ass over here, we have work to do.”

Chris was a bit taken aback by that. But still, he walked up next to Caty, and followed her as she went into the turbolift. Without either of them saying a destination, it took off.

"Walkabout"
Part 2, "My Bitchy Conscience"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty

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

“So are you like my conscience?”

She shook her head. “Not quite. More like a…guidance counselor.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Right. So I’m your project?”

Caty smiled. “Since the day you were conceived. You’ve been much more exciting than the last punk I had. Thankfully I got you when he joined a monastery.”

Chris just looked quizzically at her. She smiled sympathetically and then grab held of his arm.

“Look kid, because you didn’t listen to your mother when you were growing up, there’s going to be a lot of this that you don’t get. Now, I don’t get too many chances to do this, so just take it all in and try to get something out of it, OK?”

Chris was finding the resistance in him slowly seeping out. He nodded, rather sheepishly. “Wh..where are we going?”

“We’re going to take a little journey, help put things in perspective.”

“Where?”

Almost on cue, the turbolift doors opened. Caty stood in the entryway and looked back at him.

“You’ll see.” And then she walked out.

Chris walked out of the lift into a nondescript hallway on the Galaxy. “A corridor. Great. Real life changing.” He quipped.

“Oh shut up. This is just the terminus.”

“Ahhh..the terminus.” Chris really hoped the docs revived him soon so this nightmare would end.

She stopped at a door at looked at him. “Here we are. Ready?”

Chris shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”

Caty nodded. “Of course. You can get back in the turbolift and you’ll go back to your body…of course, then you’ll just see black until they heal you. This, on the other hand, is much more interesting…and you might get something out of it.”

Chris sighed. “Oh well, what the hell.” And he walked through the door.

"Walkabout"
Part 3, "My Lost Conception"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty
------------------------------

Chris sighed. “Oh well, what the hell.” And he walked through the door.

Right into a room with a couple sitting in it. Looking like they were discussing something important.

“Mezia, I think we should try again.” The man said.

It was obvious the woman was distraught. She looked frail, weak…defeated. It had not taken the saying of her name for Chris to realize that he was looking at his parents.

“But John..” she sobbed. “What if it happens again? This was so hard, I don’t know if I can go through it and have the same thing happen again.”

Chris had grown dead silent through this exchange.

“Mez,” his father pleaded, leaning in towards his wife. “This wasn’t your fault…I know how you’re feeling, but…what happened to Eli had nothing to do with it. I know what you’re thinking, but if we don’t try, wouldn’t we be giving in?”

His mother sobbed still. “But what if it happens again? What if he comes?”

His father held her tightly, a tear coming to his eye. “I’ll protect him, honey. On my life I swear to you, I will protect our child.”

Chris turned and looked at Caty. “Eli is…?”

“Your older brother.”

Chris was shocked. This was all news to him. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Eli died a week after coming home from the hospital. It shook your parents to their core. This conversation was held a month after his funeral. You were a direct result of this conversation. You were conceived a day later.”

“And what was dad talking about…protecting for?”

“Eli was murdered. In his crib. While your parents were sleeping. The security records on the Carroll have them both accounted for at his time of death, but they never managed to find any trace of the killer.”

It felt like Chris had been punched in the stomach. So much was being revealed that he did not know if he could process it all. He said nothing, simply staring at the scene in front of him. It was a strangely odd scene, seeing the night of your conception, and realizing that, for his parents, what he assumed to be much joy had come from such pain.

Caty saw the confusion in his face. “Come on, we have more to see.”

"Walkabout"
Part 4, "My Pigtails"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty
and others

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

She had him back in the hallway, and he was nearly in a catatonic state. She stopped at another door and turned to look at him.

“Are you ready for the next trip?”

Chris looked at her. “Who killed my brother?”

Caty shrugged. “Unfortunately, I only have access to stuff that directly relates to you.”

“Hmmph, some supernatural being you are.”

“Watch it, slick, or you’ll go back to that coma in a hurry.”

Chris raised his arms. “Point taken.”

She walked through the door. Naturally, Chris followed.

The next scene was a very familiar one to him.

“Constellation Hall.” Chris looked around at the cramped hallways of one of the Academy’s dorms.

This had been Chris’ home for the better part of 4 years. He could remember the smell, the feel of it, like it was yesterday.

“Good. You remember. Now just stand here and watch.”

Chris looked down the empty corridor and looked back at Caty. “Watch what?”

“You’ll see.”

Chris stood there for a few minutes, waiting rather impatiently for something to happen. It was a pretty random hallway…on the 6th floor. He lived on the 3rd, so he knew he was nowhere near his room.

Finally, 3 minutes later, a door opened. And out stepped 4th Year Cadet Chris Daniels. To the existential Chris, Cadet Daniels looked hellaciously young, despite the fact that this was only 3 years ago.

The Cadet version stopped in the doorway and looked back in. “Yeah man, we’ll talk about that case study tomorrow. I gotta run, I have Applications of Modern Strat now.” He made a hand signal to the unseen person in the room and then closed the door, walking right towards older Chris. He then heard a pair of footsteps behind him.

Older Chris and turned to see his sister, walking stride in stride with an all too familiar pair of pigtails.

Janeen. Suddenly the moment came back to him.

Upon seeing each other, the siblings stopped, smiled and started to talk. Chris could almost regurgitate the entire conversation, it was so engrained.

“Oh, Chris, this is Janeen Jaxom. Her brother’s the XO of the Miranda.”

Chris watched as his younger self’s eyes did what they did when he was that age: survey the young girl up and down. And then introduce himself with a smile that became well known, if not infamous, amongst the female population of the San Francisco campus of Starfleet Academy.

“Do you remember how it ended?” Caty asked.

“I made sure they were coming to the off-campus party that night.” Chris smiled, thinking about it. While this was not the true beginning of Chris and Janie’s relationship, it was a day that he had never forgotten. Chris watched as his younger version walked away, and then watched as Ezzie winked at Janie.

“Wait, I was set up?”

Caty smirked. “Yeah, and you nearly ruined it with all your womanizing, genius.” She shook her head. “I had to work damn hard to make sure you ran into each other, literally, on the Miranda.”

“Wait, YOU set me up?”

Caty shook her head. “No…just made sure something that was supposed to happen all along did.”

Chris rolled his eyes. This was almost too much.

Caty started to walk away. Then she stopped. “Stand there for another minute.”

“Why? I didn’t come back.”

“I know, just stand there.”

Chris did that, with his hands on his hips. Whatever this was, he wasn’t getting it.

Then he watched a large figure turn the corner, walking quickly, hissing as he passed.

“K’aa lived up here?”

Caty nodded. “Didn’t come out of his room much. He was kind of a homebody.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “So what does that have to do with anything?”

Caty acted as if she ignored that question. “Come on…two more.”

"Walkabout"
Part 5, "My Two For One Deal"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty
------------------------------

The next scene took Chris back to a day he tried to forget about.

He was standing next to the rail overlooking the Miranda’s Combat Information Center. Before him, the CIC was being repaired, and crew members mulled about doing their thing amidst the damage control parties. Chris saw himself standing in the corner, in a moment that was seared into his memory. He was standing over a set of three bodybags. The three dead crewmen that had been lost on his watch. Sickbay was unable to accommodate all the dead bodies at once, so they had to be respectfully left in their locales for a few hours.

The scene jarred Chris. This had been one of the toughest moments of his short career. It was the interlude between the battles over Romulus, and he had just had to face the first deaths of his career.

“Do you remember this?” Caty asked him quietly, seeming to respect what this moment meant to him.

He nodded. “This is the day my rage was born. I vowed I’d never lose another crew member.”

Caty looked at him quizzically. “Birth of your rage? You’ve always had it, boy. You just never realized it.”

Chris looked angrily at her. “What the hell does this have to do with anything?!? Are you trying to torture me for some past misgiving?!!?!”

Caty shook her head, then closed her eyes for a moment. The world around him seemed to shift, and then Chris found himself standing in, of all places, his parents house on Mars. He was standing in the parlor, near the bookcase, looking around at all the Risan decorative items.

“Now what?!”

“You’re getting angry again, don’t make me send you into a time-out coma.”

Chris did not looked amused. “OK, I’m home. It seems empty. What’s this gonna do for me?”

“Your mom’s in the kitchen cooking. Dad’s at work, and you’re on the ship. Ezzie’s still at the Academy and Bralin…well, since you don’t keep in contact with him, I don’t keep tabs on him…sorry.” She shrugged, sympathetically. “She’ll be in here in a minute. Maybe you should look around.”

“Why? I know all what’s in here. Hell, I’ve even started reading Mom’s Risan mythology mumbo-jumbo lately.”

“Mythological Mumbo-Jumbo? Kid, haven’t you learned anything on this trip? Geez, and here I was thinking you were starting to catch on.” She stormed over to the bookcase and pulled one out, almost as if she knew exactly what she was looking for. “Short of burning that title into your brain, you need to remember that name. Read it when you wake up. It’s kind of important. It will help explain what you saw in the CIC. And your mom should be coming in right about…now…”

And on cue, Chris’ mom walked in.

He looked over at Caty. “How long did you spend on planning this?”

“Hard to explain in temporal terms…but about 3 days.”

Chris turned his attention back to the scene in front of him. He watched his mother go over to the space where she kept the pottery and get on her knees, turning one. It revealed what looked like a battle scene between many humans, and on one side, a large figure…perhaps a lizard? He heard his mom saying a prayer in her native Risan tongue.

“Do you know what she’s saying?”

Chris listened. “Something about keeping her family safe from the evil…demons or something.” He crinkled his nose. “I’ve forgotten a lot of my Risan lessons.”

Caty snorted. “Not surprising since you spent most of your time daydreaming about your knockout of an instructor.”

Chris looked at her. “You thought Liz was good looking too? Does that mean you’re…”

Caty cut him off. “Head out of the gutter, ace. Focus here.”

Chris turned back. “So is that big lizard-thing the demon?”

Caty sighed. “Come on…one more.”

“Weren’t these the last two?”

“Did we go through two doors? I don’t think so. This was a two parter.”

Chris slumped in defeat. So far, comas sucked. And his conscience…if you could call it that…was a real bitch.

"Walkabout"
Part 6, "My First Realizations"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty
and others
-------------------------------

This scene wasn’t so much familiar as it was something he could easily discern.

Chris was, quite simply, watching a Messenger possessed K’aa run roughshod around the Miranda. In some ways, it was quite similar to what was still happening—he thought—on the Galaxy’s bridge.

She then brought him to see him and Janeen, hunkered down in the Tactical Situtation Room. The scene continued to play itself out up until the Messenger managed to see Janeen through multiple deck plates into a hard to access electrical closet, leaving Chris and K’aa to have their epic battle in the corridor.

“Aside from the obvious, what do you remember about this?”

“That this was the first time I knew I really, really cared about Janeen. And that I could never trust K’aa again, so long as we thought that thing might still be around. I felt like this was my first trial by fire. And being so relieved when we found Janie.”

“Anything else?”

Chris stopped and thought for a moment. “This was the first time I heard you.”

“Bingo!”

“I’m still confused.”

“We’ll get to that, but first…a pit stop.”

“I thought you said we were done?!?”

“I did…but I changed my mind.”

"Walkabout"
Part 7 "My Libido"

and

Part 8 "My Conclusion"

Lt Chris Daniels
Caty
and others

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

The last scene Chris saw was a very recent one. It was of him and Stacey McCaren fooling around on Rodona beach. She picked it up where Stacey was just about to untie his swimsuit. As the realization of what he was doing went through his head, the image of Chris pulled away.

“Stacey…I can’t. I’m in a relationship.”

“Is she on the ship?”

“No.”

“Different registry code…it’s not cheating.” She leaned in and kissed him again. This time he pushed her away.

“Stacey, as much as I would in a past life…no. She means too much to me. I’m not the same guy everyone knew at the Academy.”

“And you think she wouldn’t do the same thing?”

Chris paused for only an instant. It was a quick instant, but one that gave Stacey the answer she needed. She stood and put her top back on.

“Well, when you find out little miss perfect—whoever it is—has been fooling around with the cute dude in Medical on her ship, you come find me.” With that, she left the holodeck.

Chris watched himself sit up and rub his hands on his face. He then turned to Caty.

“What does this have to do with all the rest?”

“Nothing.” She said matter of factly. “I just wanted to say…Don’t fuck up you and Janeen. I worked damn hard to make sure you two found each other, and I’ll be damned if some little tramp and your over-active weiner ruin it. Now come on, I need to get you back.”

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

Chris found himself back on the bridge, watching as K’aa was incapacitated.

“Told you he lost.” Caty said.

“OK, so what’s been the point of all this.”

Caty started walking around the bridge. “OK…I can’t tell you exactly what all this was about. That’s against the rules. Here’s what I can tell you. Being Risan, and being from the family you’re from, brings certain…baggage with it. Now, everything that you saw today…it’s all linked. You, all of you, are linked together in a chain of events that you can’t even comprehend. We’re talking millennia of causality here, that, whether you like it or not, you find yourselves tied into. Like I said, I can’t tell you what’s going on…you have to figure that out, and the simple fact is, Christopher Rigara Daniels, you may not be able to do that. A lot of stuff has been lost over the years and you may never be able to piece it together. But you have to try. It’s your
duty. I’ll be there to help if you lose your way, but you have to do this on your own.”

“So I’m involved in some sort of universe-altering chain of events?”

“No, not universe altering. But for us Lirisi, it’s pretty important.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t help.”

“Just…read the book…that’s the best place to start.”

Chris looked down. “And is this the last time we’ll have one of these sessions?”

Caty smirked. “Depends on how many more consoles you go flying through. You know you really should be more careful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He deadpanned.

Caty looked over to where the medics were entering the bridge. “I guess I better get you back…it was a pleasure…” She winked.

“But I…” And just like that, the scene went away, and Chris was returned to the blackness.

"Heinous Favor"

With

1st Lieutenant Branwen London
USS Galaxy (Current Status: POW) [Mieke]

Gral'Mev Gro'kle Male Hydran
Prison Physician [Omar]


The guards dragged Branwen back to the medical examination room. She was still weak, so it was pretty useless to struggle against them, but still Branwen tried. The last time she had been a prisoner of the Hydrans there had been nightmares for many months, and she really did not want to go back to that. The only thing that made her happy was that they had not taken Samantha here.

"Ah, you've returned," Gro'kle gurgled happily. "Good, good. I have some things I needed to do and you were an integral part of them."

"Don't count on it." She struggled as much as possible. "It is against all the conventions to mistreat prisoners of war." She tried to kick the guards.

"Oh, do behave yourself," he chided. "I think you will find these experiments to be of great benefit. Well, of great benefit to the Hydran peoples, at any rate."

"I am not at all like a Hydran, I cannot be of any use to you. Don't do this, it will go so bad for you when they come to liberate us."

A sound that may have been a chuckle came from the Hydran doctor. "I highly doubt that. As for you being like a Hydran, I wholeheartedly agree. This is why you are useful to us at this time." He blorped something in his native language to the two guards, who lashed Branwen down on what appeared to be an examination table, then left the laboratory.

"I believe that you will thank us as much as we are going to thank you, Lieutenant London."

"When pigs fly, Doc." She wished he would come close enough so she could bite him.

Without dignifying her remark with so much as a response, a series of machinations descended from above the exam table. There were several tubes, automatons with sharp instruments, and other items that looked equally unpleasant.

"First, I will require some tissue samples. I understand that your species uses some type of anesthesia. I promise you...we will dispense with that particular luxury." Several 'arms' with syringes attached to various gauge steel needles began to converge on various parts of her body. One at the left hip, one for each major organ in her abdomen...and one particularly nasty one aimed for the base of her skull.
"You don't frighten me with pain, you barbarian butcher. You have the wrong girl for that." Outwardly she was very calm still.

"This will hurt you more than it will ever hurt me." The activation button was pressed, and the machines went to work.

"Go to hell!" Branwen did what she had done in her youth when her father and the local doctor had tortured her, she retreated to a safe place in her mind. Creating a happy atmosphere of peace and tranquillity. Of course it could not keep all the pain out, and she did yelp out as the probe hit the back of her skull. Nobody liked any thing invading their brain. Branwen began to pray softly.

The procedure was much like a Human biopsy, sampling several parts of the body at once...although most humans (if not all) didn't usually have it done like that. Once the drilling, and tissue withdrawal and poking were done, Gro'kle immediately went about performing a full body scan while the samples were placed in the appropriate receptacles for testing.

"That was not terribly painful, now was it?" Before Bran could even attempt to answer, he continued. "Oh, we are fully aware of your capacity for pain. Your records are right here for my perusal." Indeed, Branwen London was once a guest of Casa Hydran not terribly long ago. "And according to your records, I will have to perform some corrective surgery on you before we can attempt to proceed with my experiments."

That last statement did get her attention. "What do you mean?" She asked very quietly.

Thinking that he finally caused fear to rise in his prisoner, Gro'kle seized the opportunity. "I mean, I will open you up, fix an apparent defect you have, and close you up. Of course, I am sure that anesthesia can be obtained for some comfort...that is if you provide us with some information we require."

"Never." She snapped. "I will never talk. And you stay away from me." Bran bit back the tears. The doctors on the Galaxy had told her that it was a dangerous and delicate operation. She had no doubt that this butcher would harm her even more inside, if she even survived.

"You humans amuse me with your pursuit of the futile," the Doctor replied dryly. He held up a device, similar to what Grenthas had, and tapped a command into it. Immediately a signal was sent to the collar that Branwen was wearing. This signal halted her central nervous system in an interesting way. It halted all motor commands from the brain and spinal column...but it didn't stop the sensory commands going to the spinal cord and brain. Her vocal cords, however, were left as was. She would still be able to talk, threaten if she wished...and scream.

"I promise you. This will hurt." Light illuminated a large tray next to the bed Branwen was on, displaying a myriad of instruments. Gro'kle quickly picked one up, depressed a power strip and felt it buzz ever so slightly in his bloated fist. Without further comment or warning, he sliced into her side, starting just above her hip. The Doctor carved until he hit bone, and then slowly followed the bone distal towards her feet.

"No don't, please not that. Torture me and the where else, not there, that's private." Branwen managed to do get out before she started to scream. The pain was just too intense, even for a woman used to facing pain. Her high pain threshold also meant that she did not pass out very easily.

Normally, Gro'kle would have no reaction whatsoever. This would be just like any other procedure he has performed. But there was something about this Lieutenant London that just made him want to do his worst. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, however he was not deterred from his work. In fact, he was rather invigorated.

"You have no privacy, human," he muttered after a moment. Eventually he administered an agent that would only retard the flow of blood to her lower body. He knew he didn't have long after that before necrosis began to set in. These humans are so fragile, he thought to himself.

The pain, the pain was so bad that it was difficult to think. And yet she did not pass out, her pain threshold was too bloody high, from not the first time Branwen cursed it. "If you stop now, I will speak out for you when they come to free us. You don't have to do this." Branwen could not stop pleading, it was all she had left.

One of Gro'kle's eyestalks twitched and looked at her face while the other two focused on the task at hand. "Oh, spare me," he said in what might have been the Hydran equivalent of a sneer. "And if you keep distracting me, I may be liable to make a mistake." He completed the cuts he needed to make, and began re-arranging her pelvis manually.

Then, the doctor placed synthesized bone and cartilage in the spaces that remained. He then soldered them into place and closed the incisions along the sides of her hips. Next, he made a wide incision just below her navel and began applying a tool that caused great pain as she still was not sedated, nor was any pain block applied. Her uterus was repaired, most of the scar tissue that made her unable to carry a child removed.

All of this took approximately eight to nine hours. After which, the real fun (for Gro'kle) began. Unbeknownst to Branwen, he began applying Hydran genetic sequences to her own DNA. This would enable him to move on to the next phase of his experiment. After isolating the specific genomes that governed mammalian gestation, he waited for the results to come in. This process took approximately thirty hours. Gro'kle didn't need much sleep, and had trained himself to remain awake for days at a time.

Branwen had lost consciousness a few times, but not often enough to her liking. The pain had almost been unbearable, all she could do was scream. Her body would not move to her commands, however hard she had tried.

Now she lay on the operating table totally exhausted. Her skin was white and clammy, and her long hair soaked with sweat. "What are you doing?" She whispered.

"You'll find out soon enough...although it may not be to your liking." Indeed, if his experiment worked, as far as Hydrans were concerned, he would just have to reverse engineer to process to fit their genetic make up. As far as Branwen was concerned however, in case there was a problem with the process in application to his people...she would always make a decent prototype breeder.

"Then tell me now!" She hissed. Branwen hated feeling this weak and insecure. It was like being back to being a child, not knowing why her father had punished her this time. It was very hard for her not to think back on those times now. "What have you done, and what are you going to do to me?" She demanded.

"No," Gro'kle answered dismissively. "But you may lay here while I attend to other matters. Do consider cooperating. It will go so much easier for you."
"If you don't have any time for me anymore, why not bring the back to my cell?" She asked him. Right now she could do with some human contact, preferably her husband, or some of the other female captives.

Now Gro'kle was terribly annoyed. "For a prisoner, you seem to have a malformed sense of entitlement. The answer is no. I shall return. And don't try to get up-" he added tapping a control on his 'leash remote' "-as you will find you have no control over your body now."

She grumbled under her breath, knowing better than to ask for some painkillers. The pain was pretty bad now. "Please, give me some movement doctor, I promise not to run away, but I will heal better if I can move around a little bit." Maybe he would listen to that.

Gro'kle simply walked out of the chamber, to be replaced by a very massive and well armed guard.

Branwen could only blink and look at the ceiling. Her abdomen region felt like it was on fire and little daggers were stabbing at her. Even for someone used to pain like her it was almost unbearable, but just not bad enough for her to pass out. She had no idea how long he left her there. Tears trickled from her eyes, Branwen did not cry out, yet suffered in silence.

Several hours more later, Gro'kle returned with a vial containing yellowish green fluid. The 'uber' guard vacated the chamber, and Gro'kle waited until the door thudded shut. "Today will mark a new beginning for Hydran society." He held up the vial and loaded it into a device that looked to be about 25 centimeters long. He then turned back to Branwen and began moving towards her.

"What is that? What are you going to do to me?" She was exhausted, but scared, this did not look good at all.

It might have been a smile that Gro'kle had on his face, but it didn't really matter anymore. Activating yet another control on his infernal hand held device, malleable restraint fields immediately pinned her arms down and held her legs far apart. "I am going to make a queen of you."

"What!... What the hell are you talking about!" Even without restraints she had no strength left to fight.

"History will begin today!" The device was forcibly placed through Branwen's legs, it's cargo dispatched when the indicator light changed to lavender, meaning that it was at or near the uterine wall. Upon deposit, Gro'kle removed the device, and soon after the restraint fields allowed her to relax her legs, but not by far. The doctor ran a clammy hand along his prisoner's face, what emanated was what might have been a whisper for most Hydrans. "Yes, history will begin today..."

Tears still streamed down her face. "What did you do?"

Gro'kle leaned closer, the methane from his breather ever so close to her face. "I have impregnated you, Lieutenant Branwen London."

"The Phantom Menace"

With

The Phantom Shitter (real name, changed in subject line to not offend those with sensitive eyes and virgin minds).

Since the era of Earth's World War II, there has been an...unsavoury legend of one who defecates in places other than a commode. The reason for this practice to this day has never quite been completely understood. Pranksters, the mentally disturbed, people with vengeance on their minds...it didn't matter who eventually got caught. There was eventually another Phantom Shitter, waiting to strike, and always at one of the more inopportune times. Now...in the 24th Century...in the far reaches of space.. Aboard a Federation Starship.................the legend is reborn.............

There was no concern regarding the fact that the ship had just finished it's battle with the Hydrans. There wasn't even a worry about the rumors regarding the Captain's alleged demise. With all the confusion and chaos afoot, the time was well opportune for a strike, a message to be sent. But this individual was having trouble trying to figure out who to go after first, who to...inconvenience.

After wandering for several decks, a target of great opportunity made itself available. Not so much a person...but a location....

[Deck 24, Crew Lounge 24-A]

It wasn't exactly a large room like Ten-Forward, no nothing near that. More like a place for a few people to gather and unwind after their shifts were over. Right now, no one was in there, and that suited this person just fine. After all, a message was being sent. A clear and ever present one.

Jumping up on one of the tables, trousers were dropped and after much grunting and effort, a sizable pile was all that remained to indicate that someone was there not too long ago.

About ten minutes later, a few crewmen from a nearby torpedo room finished their shift, and entered 24-A to have a snack and relax for a few. That is until they first smelled...then saw the offensive sight.

"Holy, Shit!"

Thus began the reign of the Phantom Shitter aboard the USS Galaxy............ where..... or who will fall victim next?........................................................

[TBC]

"La Chanson de Bataille" (Part 3)

Jarajen "Quattro" Quaaliu, Vanguard One
Ella "Songbird" Grey, Vanguard Four
Darius "Carnage" Slaughter, Vanguard Five
Eric "Screech" Robinson, Vanguard Six (NPC)
Taev "Stubbs", Sabre Two
Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari, Sabre Six
Nathan "Cowboy" Everett, Sabre One
Graan "Granite" glasch Gavrak, Sabre Eight

**********************************
=^= EPIPHANY =^=
**********************************

"The fighters are bearing off."

For the first time in the battle, Quattro felt a slight surge of adrenaline. While the other pilots had flourished, Quattro felt he had merely survived. He had flown, and killed, but he felt as a shadow nearing twilight - faded, and stretched. With the fragmented remains of the Hydran wings in full retreat, attention could now be
focused on the carriers which held back from the battle and hurled volleys of Hellbores at the Federation capital ships.

"Vanguards... arm hull-breaching ordnance, and follow me in on my mark."

Jarajen made to arm the rack of missiles on his control panel and stopped as he saw the purple, bloodied stump almost graze the switch. He breathed deep, and realized that his lack of a hand - his lack of completeness - had ruled his performance in the dogfight. Every move that had once been natural was now calculated to deal with the loss hand; how he adjusted controls, how he fought against the high gee of a sharp bank, how he adjusted his flight harness. Everything. With an effort, he used his upper hand to arm the missiles, leaving the lower to throb against his side.

"Target is the Matador-class carrier targer "Gold One". I'm going in..."

"Copy that, Vanguard One, we'll be right behind you in case they start shootin'," came Cowboy's response as he armed his own fighter's ordnance.

"Vanguard Four... bogey on your tail bearing one-eight-zero mark two-seventy mark twelve".

"I'll shake him ... " Ella started.

"FOOOOOOLED YOOOOU!" Sabre Two darted just ahead of Ella's starfighter, cutting off her flight-path. "I'm taking in that port nacelle in the name of Sluggo-cola, and all it stands for!"

"Stubbs! What the hell!" Ella shouted over the comm.

As the fighters raced towards the carrier, Taev noticed a flicker on his HUD. Life support went yellow, then red. Strapping on his helmet, the Ferengi tried to activate his fighter's diagnostic and was greeted by a bright arc of electricity with the sharp, pungent smell of burnt plastic. "Slig snot!", he whimpered. "What in the Nagus'
name is goin..."

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Quattro saw Sabre Two blossom into a ball of burnt ochre as Taev's signal faded from Jarajen's HUD. "Stubbs? STUBBS? Songbird... report."

There was a pause over the radio before Ella spoke. "He's gone, Sir."

"Sunuvabitch!" Nathan growled as he watched Sabre Two flicker off of his display. "What the hell happened?!"

Quattro's own system display was starting to brighten yellow, then red as weapons, navigation, auxiliary controls and starboard thrusters went offline. Almost immediately, the Nassari's starfighter began a sickening spiral to port and no amount of wrestling with the fighter's stick could alter it. The only remaining system still in the green were his shields which, despite the occasional strike from gatling fire, was virtually untouched.

Cowboy noticed Vanguard One's listing almost immediately. "Quattro, you alright up there? Yer listin' to port. What's goin' on?"

'No,' Darius thought to himself as a hellbore smacked dead on into Quattro's underside .... his eyes widening even farther as he personally witnessed the energy washed around the shield grids. Instead of looping around to the weakest side and impacting there, the crackling surges of deadly hellbore instead filtered through the joints in the shield envelope, clearly delineating where each arc ended and the next began .... something that the normal overlap was supposed to prevent.

The CAG's spiral ended in a bright flash of cobalt-blue. Quattro's senses were overpowered by the brightness, and the deep resonating hum that enveloped his fighter. All controls were now dead, and vapour from the Nassari's rapid breathing now fogged his helmet's visor. "What is happening? Ella-ji? Nathan-ji? Tell me!"

"It's the shields, Jarajen!" Darius was pulling around, Screech tailing him a little awkwardly at the sudden change in maneuvering. "Hellbores'r findin cracks in tha' shields!"

Quattro was panicking now. Three sets of hands struggled desperately for the emergency jettison that was now frosted in frozen vapor. Pull as he may, Jarajen couldn't manage to achieve sufficient leverage in the small cockpit with his long, thin arms. He stifled a scream when he applied the force of his stump to the effort, forgetting that his hand now rotted in sickbay. When he recovered, he could see the faint outline of the Hydran carrier's fighter bay, open like the maw of some alien beast about to swallow him from existence. The Nassari breathed deeply as the bay grew ever larger.

"Target my figher, Ella-Ji."

"What?!" Ella's mechanical voice snapped over the comm. "Are you crazy?"

"Target my fighter!" Quattro screamed into his helmet as he tried to kick the armored plas window out from before him, the unsteady rhythm of his feet striking the plas echoing over the common frequency. "It is still a prototype Ella-ji, and the Hydran-maj must not get hold of it! Target my fighter!"

"I ... can't," Ella replied even as her hands started to move to the targeting system.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hell no, belay that, Songbird!" Cowboy shouted. "Dammit, Quattro, we don't shoot our own goddamn pilots outta the sky! We can fix this!"

"It be too late ta' alter course," Darius said, his voice surprisingly quiet. As he lined up on Quattro's stricken fighter Daruis began a prayer over the comm.

"Stand down, Carnage! We are *not* doin' this!"

"By the suns!", Quattro commanded through gritted teeth. "Someone target my fighter and fire! This is an order!" The Hydran carrier bay dominated his view now, and an alien claw-like device awaited his fighter at the tractor beam's source. "The Hydran-maj will... give me to their Inquisitors, Vanguards... you all know this as the truth. Ask yourselves... given my condition... will I survive their interrogation?"

"There must be something ... " Ella's voice whispered over the comm.

Nathan shook his head as he listened to Jarajen, his jaw working angrily. God help him, the Nassari was right. Nathan tried desperately to think of another way out, but there wasn't. This had to be done.

"Unto Thee, Calypso, Goddess o' the Seas, we commend tha' soul o' our brother Jarajen Quaaliu, and we commit his body ta tha' Depths o' Space."

Quattro heard the beginning of the El-Aurian's prayers and settled back into his seat, breathing hard. Cold sweat covered his brow, and trickled down his temples and along his cheeks. ~And so.. it ends, he thought, and finally all thoughts of pain passed from his mind has he listened silently to Darius' benediction.

Darius' board flashed green, two torpedoes locked onto the CAG's craft.

"Eternal by Thy memory, O our brother, who art worthy ta be deemed happy and ever-memorable. And tha' most honorable man I've had tha' pleasure ta' serve with"

Alone, Quattro nodded and opened the common channel for the last time, rasping his final command.

"Do it."

A pair of ruby sparklers burst forth from Darius' fighter, impacting upon Vanguard One and rendering it little more than dust and bits of charred debris no bigger than the CAG's hand in sickbay. "Rest easy, me friend," Darius said as he pulled about, setting a course back towards the Galaxy. "Ye've more than earned it."

Nathan exhaled quietly as he watched Quattro's ship explode, trying to keep his temper under control. "Sabre One to Galaxy, Vanguard One is down. Ah'm assumin' command of Vanguard Wing. All fighters, break off and return to base," he ordered. ~Before we lose anyone else,~ he added furiously. He flipped his Albatross around and fled for the Galaxy, his fingers going numb as he clenched them around the flight
stick.

"Matching Wits"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom
Lt. Cmdr. Th'Khiss K'aa

Brig

Jaal strode purposefully into the security center. Brian was waiting for him. He'd told the counselor he had to check on a few things before meeting him to talk to their Gorn prisoner.

"All right. We need to watch for any slip up no matter how small. You've done this before I take it, right?" the Trill asked.

"Relax a little, Jaal," the counselor quietly admonished. "I've been involved with interrogations before, and I know that if you become too hyper-vigilant you can start reading things in that don't really exist. We go into this with the mindset of investigation, not battle. I think we've had enough of that for awhile."

Jaal looked at Brian blinking twice. "Right," he nodded, "I might be getting a little ahead of myself. I still can't believe that's the real K'aa. Hopefully we can find out." The Trill looked to the officer on duty with a questioning glance.

"He hasn't moved, sirs", the on-duty security officer remarked. "Not a muscle in six hours except for breathing, and that joint of meat Commander Gorgan left in there's going more than a little off."

The huddled form of the Gorn remained where James Corgan had left it, in the middle of the small holding cell lying on its side back towards the small room's opening. K'aa's chest heaved slowly, but otherwise the reptilian remained absolutely still.

"What's the temperature in there?" Brian asked, hoping to see that
every precaution was being taken.

"Cold", K'aa rumbled thickly from within the cell. "Very... cold, Brian. You'd feel much more comfortable on the other ssside of the sssecurity field."

Elessidil spoke in neutral, impartial tones, though in truth he was anything but disinterested. "I'll keep that in mind, 'Commander; I imagine you'd be more comfortable on this side of the security field as well. How are you feeling?"

The Gorn raised his head off the floor and turned it so his one good eye could focus on the two bridge officers. "Cold..." he repeated, "but immensssley sssatisssfied. Yourssselvesss?"

"Satisfied, Mr. K'aa?" Brian queried, ignoring the question. "Why?"

"Why not, gentlemen?" the reptilian answered in a slow, salient drawl. "When one faces with hisss own mortality, it gives one a certain peace knowing that the ssstruggle, while hard fought... isss finally over. I have fought my battle, and while I may not draw breath when it concludesss, I have faith that the contribution isss sssignificant in the overall scheme of thingsss. It'sss all one may hope for in
thessse timesss." K'aa's globular eye then focused on the Trill. "Sssorry to hear about the Carthage, Jaal. I know you craved command asss much asss I."

Jaal watched the Gorn for many seconds before replying. The Trill stood calmly with his hands folded behind his back. "You're not the real K'aa," he stated plainly.

The reptilian's eye narrowed as his gaze bored into the Trill. "I'm not?"

"No you're not," Jaal reiterated. "The REAL K'aa would have ripped M'Kantu's head clean off and him no hope of revival. The REAL K'aa wouldn't have left any of the bridge crew alive. The REAL K'aa wouldn't have made the tactical mistake of not locking down the environmental controls so he couldn't have been frozen out of action. You, who ever you are, are the poorest excuse for a Gorn that I've ever seen."

"Very... parental of you Jaal", K'aa offered as he closed his eye. "The sssame wasss said of me by my sssire when I left the Hegemony, yearsss ago. The missstake, Jaal... wasss ressspecting Daren M'Kantu. It'sss far, far more difficult to ssslay an enemy you admire, you ssssee, than one you loathe. I wasss not prepared for the man'sss
qualitiesss, you sssee. I wasss sent not to kill... but to learn. Captain M'Kantu had much to teach." The eye opened again, and this time the Gorn rolled onto his back. "Asss for what I am... I'm sssorry to ssay that Doctor Burton will be disssappointing you later today Jaal; I'm no clone."

"No...no, you're no clone," Brian chimed in, agreeing in a careful tone. Moving closer, he telepathically scrutinized the Gorn, though most of the thoughts he was getting beyond the current conversation were of a rather gruesome food-related nature -- very in keeping with Gorn hunting and feeding habits, such as Brian understood them. "But you're doing your best to make sure I know you're Gorn." The thoughts
and images became all the more savage, and definitely unsettling for Betazoid sensibilities, but Elessidil persisted, curious at one particular image that flashed in the midst of it all.... a cluster of delicate, saffron-colored Enoki-like mushrooms.

"Merely a hungry one, Brian", K'aa growled. "Darkssstar's elbow-joint wasss more grissstle than meat, and I have no trussst in our thuglike Ssecurity Chief's preparation of my food."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that. Your 'food' will be fine again soon enough," the counselor replied despite the unpleasant mental imagery, clinging instead to the one he'd seen earlier. "Interesting, 'Commander...I don't recall Gorns being herbivorous."

'Herbivores?' Jaal thought. 'Brian must be picking up something mentally,' the Trill surmised. Just once he wished he could see inside someone's head.

"Hrrrrnnnnph", K'aa snorted loudly in the small cell. "Counselor... what you can't recall about the Gorn would fill many, many volumessss I'm certain. Even in a carniverousss diet, a certain ammount of roughage isss required for digessstion - essspecially with joint-meatsss. Tell me gentlemen... I've jussst killed your captain and chewed the arm off your navagation chief; isss the bessst you can offer a diatribe on Gorn nutrition?"

Elessidil regarded him carefully. "I already know what you've done, Mister K'aa. I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that what I'm interested in is why. Tell *me*... you're being held prisoner and could quite possibly be executed and the best you can do is fill your head with thoughts of your next meal? You're not the first person who's
thrown a mental smokescreen at me."

"I'm acutely aware of the consssequencesss", K'aa hissed. "I knew them the moment I enlisssted in Ssstarfleet. Thisss moment was Written yearsss ago... I sssimply followed what... fate had laid out before me."

"So Fate dictated your actions? I don't know that you truly are aware of the consequences. You're one of the few Gorn in Starfleet, am I not correct? There are many who will undoubtedly use this as proof that the Gorn are a savage race that can't be trusted to wear the uniform, then one person's righteous indignation becomes
another's insult and it all unravels from there. Did 'Fate' lay out all that for you?"

The reptilian looked over his shoulder at the Betazoid, and his eye had narrowed to a thin, golden crease. "It isss my fate to die, Brian... jusst asss it isss my fate to bring many of you with me. I go to meet my ancessstorsss with a certain ammount of confidence that I will feel no shame in their presssence given what I have done."

Brian nodded slowly, his face a study in professional comportment. "I'm sure you won't...Mister K'aa. Jaal, I think we're done here. He's not going to tell us anything," he continued, his gaze lingering on the reptile a few moments longer.

K'aa glared at the bridge officers, shuddered in the cold, then laid his head upon the cell floor.

The counselor strode with purpose out of the holding area, his mind whirling actively as the two men continued into the corridor beyond.

"The captain's still being treated so we don't know whether he's out of the woods or not," he stated. "That means we have a possible murderer in our brig....I'm invoking my authority as Chief Counselor and getting Kaa's personal logs. Who else knows K'aa besides you, Jaal?"

"Chris Daniels," Jaal answered immediately. "They pretty much ran the tactical department on Miranda... hell, they 'were' the tactical department. I don't care what that Gorn says, that's not K'aa... if it is, he's been brainwashed or something." After a few more steps down the corridor, "Hey, Janeen is on Atlantis and was with K'aa there for a while. Why don't I contact her and see if she noticed anything strange?""

"Good idea -- any information we can get could be useful. Like I said, K'aa isn't going to tell us anything...but he doesn't have to, not now anyway. In fact, what he didn't say was far more valuable. I'm going to do some research first... and it's going to start with looking at mushrooms."

"Mushrooms?" Jaal asked quizzically.

"Mushrooms."

"Change of Venue"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora

Civilian Defense Attorney Faylin Anne McAlister

Judge: Commander Michael Paul

Starfleet Prosecutor: Lt. Commander Jillian Riley

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

Polished wood screamed with the scent of lemon as the sound of the heavy doors opened. The were cherry, carved with the ancient Greek lady holding the scale of justice on each panel. Brass handles assisted with opening the weighted doors. Within seconds, the light clicking of Faylin McAlister's heels could be heard as she made her way to the front of the court room. Veering to the left, she placed
her briefcase down with a soft thud on the oblong table that was to the right of the judges bench. Her eyes narrowed as she beheld the embroidered Starfleet flag that hung off of the bench in front of her. Clearing her throat, she turned her head slightly as Ophelia was led into the room by two security officers that flanked her side closely.

Unlike days of old, the binders that confined Zamora did not rattle, the moved freely at her ankles and wrists. The regulation dark blue jumpsuit did nothing for her coloring except pale her already colorless ashen face. Her dark eyes were encircled with darkness, signaling lack of sleep. Blinking once, she was maneuvered to stand
beside Faylin. The woman regarded each other, saying nothing vocally, but speaking volumes with their eyes.

Last to arrive was Lt. Commander Jillian Riley. 'The Plank' as she was referred to regarded McAlister with a slight 'bring it on' smirk. It was that way with attorneys. The overly cocky attitudes were a defensive tactic in an attempt to weaken the other side. Fay was not one to weaken easily as she returned the smirk with a gentle smile.

"Counselor...." McAlister responded with a false sense of respect.

Jillian slowly nodded as the Bailif stood.

All sets of eyes turned their attention to the bench as Commander Michael Paul stepped up upon his thrown. His eyes were slits as he took in the scene before him.

"Commander, this is case 8374-727. Starfleet vs. Junior Lt. Ophelia Lupe Zamora."

He nodded, taking a slight puff of air and extracting into the atmosphere around him.

"Sir...the defense requests a change of venue at this time." McAlister blurted out before anyone could speak.

"Objection....."

McAlister's head turned sharply, her eyes narrowing before turning her attention back to the judge.

"Let her finish counselor." The judge responded. "Ms. McAlister, may I hear why you believe a change of venue is in order?"

"Sir...it's simple. The victim was considered an outstanding member of this community. He was a security officer with level 4 clearance. Most of the Starfleet security knew him, as well as the civilian police district. He was well known throughout the community. And if I am not mistaking here, known by you and by the three jags that will be adjudicating this case. My client is innocent until proven guilty. However, with a panel such as the one that will be, fair and balanced
is not possible Sir. That is why I am requesting a change of venue to the Starfleet JAG office in Boston Massachusetts. It is advisable that you grant a change of venue your honor so the trial is not prejudiced."

He was silent for a moment before speaking. "Attorney, you are aware that we have not even set a plea yet for this case? By your words, you are under the assumption that your client is guilty." He paused.

"Junior Lt. Ophelia Lupe Zamora. You have been accused of aggravated murder in the first degree. What plead you?"

Zamora's eyes shifted from McAlister to the prosecutor then back to McAlister. "Not guilty Sir."

"So be it." He spent a sheer moment dotting information down on his PADD. "Due to the circumstances surrounding the case, I am granting a change of venue to the JAG station at Boston. Your client, Ms. McAlister, will be transported to Boston tomorrow morning where as a preliminary hearing will be scheduled to determine trial."

An eerie stillness settled over the room as the judge stood, promptly leaving. Faylin sighed heavily, causing Ophelia to look her way with cold steel daggers in her eyes.

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

"Ben Maxwell: Sickbay Guard Dog"

With

Benedict "Max" Maxwell
Petty Officer 2nd Class, Paramedic Practitioner
EMRT/Trauma Team
USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, 1522 hours

It occurred to Max that being designated as the 'go-through' for Sickbay's services would under normal circumstances be a decent hitch. However with the hush hush atmosphere and his strict orders to keep out any loiterers, he was already feeling the weight. Case in point was about to walk through the door.

Ensign Maurice Poultney, a logistics officer, entered Sickbay with a swagger often seen in officers who thought a bit too much of themselves. He sauntered up to where Max was hunched over a PADD and cleared his throat. After a moment (much to the annoyance of said ensign), the Medic finally looked at him.

"Something i can help you with, Ensign?"

"Yes," he replied, "I wanted to know the status of the Captain. There are several of us who want to know how he's doing."

Max nodded. "Yes, I'm sure that everyone wants to know how Captain M'Kantu is doing. Unfortunately, I cannot release any information in regards until authorized by Dr. Burton." Thinking that his answer would suffice, Max returned to perusing his PADD. Unfortunately, Ensign Poultney didn't believe that the conversation was over.

"Excuse me, Crewman," he started again, using the general enlisted term to both annoy Max and show him who was really boss at that moment (at least in his own mind). "I do believe I asked you a direct question. I don't want a crap answer."

Max usually had tolerance for a lot of nonsense, as the years he spent on the mean streets of NYC had taught him that it does indeed take all kinds and types. Unfortunately for the ensign in front of him, today was not one of those days for the practice of tolerance.

"Ensign," Max offered as a one time chance to back off, "I'm sure you're aware of patient privacy issues, and security concerns surrounding the Captain's condition. At an appropriate time, an update-"

"I'm giving you a direct order to inform me on the Captain's condition," bellowed Poultney, finger pointed directly into Max's face. Big mistake. But instead of breaking said finger, Max decided to utilize another method of subduing the irate self important person. Quickly and deftly, he applied one spray of the hypo he had next to his PADD to the Ensign's pointed finger. What happened next was somewhat comical (at least to Max):

First, the Ensign tensed up, creating a grimace that would scare possibly even the staunchest Klingon. Next, he fell face forward onto the desk that separated him and Max, creating a sizable hematoma on his forehead as he slumped back and laid in a disheveled heap on the floor. Next, the irritant urinated on himself as he lost the battle for muscle control in his body and every muscle in his body then relaxed.

Max felt more satisfaction from the potent muscular relaxer than if he had decked the guy (not to mention the fact that he can cover up the drugging easier). He picked up the Ensign under the shoulders, hauled him over to a Biobed, placed a restraint field around him, and let him cool his jets for a while. He then returned to his desk and resumed reading. A few moments later, another person entered Sickbay.

"Do you have a medical complaint," Max asked before the subject could open his mouth.

"Erm, no, I don't. I was actually here to ask-"

"Before you go any further," Max interrupted, "I'll have to advise you that no information will be issued regarding the Captain until duly authorized by Dr. Burton or the Captain himself."

"Well-"

"And further more, if you insist on attempting to subvert information from myself or anyone else here on staff, I may have to give you a Biobed like the last guy." Max indicated with an inclination of his head towards the body of Poultney laying on the Biobed looking like the mess he was.

The individual with no medical complaint immediately thought about the current situation and the potential for him to share Sickbay space with the guy who looked like he got knocked out and peed on himself. When Max looked up again, the individual was gone, doors closing in his wake.

"Connections"

Lt. Victor Krieghoff
Lt. Ella Grey

****

USS Galaxy
Jeffries Tube Junction

She sat and stared at the wall ahead of her.

She'd already paced the small room, contemplated jumping up and down, possibly even punching the wall, but those actions had seemed very silly and many years in the Grey household had schooled her against acting silly.

She had ended up sitting down and waiting for the eventual tears to come.

When they did, she peeled the vocal patch from her neck and tossed it away. There was nothing worse than hearing mechanical sniffles.

****

Victor really didn't have time for this. He had Hydran prisoners to manage, Security personnel to direct, and a hundred other things to deal with. Normally, he would have delegated it to a junior member of the department and forgotten about it.

This wasn't a normal problem.

It didn't deal with a normal person.

Which was why he was making time to dealing with it personally.

The wash of the site-to-site transport's light illuminated the small space as he appeared. He already knew that there wasn't a threat – at least a Hydran one - so he hadn't bothered with having a weapon in hand.

"You can't stay here."

Ella lifted her head and tilted her head.

"You can't stay here," he repeated, quietly, the flash of the emergency lighting revealing to his eyes what his ears had already told him: she'd been crying. "They have to flush the atmosphere out of this section of Jeffries Tubes so they can open up some of the pressure doors and get air back to half of Deck 21. I can't let you stay."

She looked at him for a moment and then started to stand up.

As she did so, he noticed that her vocal patch wasn't on, frowned, and looked around the confines of the tube juncture for it. By the time she'd made it to her feet, he'd found it clinging to the opposite wall by one corner of it's electrostatic inner surface. Retrieving it, he offered it to her in an open hand. "You... dropped this," he continued softly.

Ella stared at it for a second, exhaled, and then picked up the patch up with two fingers so she wouldn't make contact with his skin, as if that would somehow make it all worse.

Funny, she thought. There was once a time when the thought of touching Victor would get her through the day.

She stuck the patch into one of her pockets and turned to make her way out of the tube.

Victor watched her for a moment in silence. "If you need someplace to go where you won't be disturbed," he offered softly, "I can have you beamed to one if you want?. No fuss, no wandering through half the ship. It's a misuse of power, but I doubt that anyone will ever know - or care if they find out."

Ella smiled faintly and turned back to him. ~~Abusing power,~~ she signed. ~Shame on you.~~

With a shrug, he pointed to the insignia on his Hazard Team uniform's collar. "If you've got it, use it," he answered lightly.

Victor and humor ... it was still an odd, if pleasant, combination. ~~I'd rather walk but thank you~~

He nodded. "I'd ask if you were okay, but that seems a bit stupid given the situation, don't you think?"

~~Perhaps but what else can you really ask?~~ Ella replied with a shrug. ~~I'll be fine, Tiger. It just hit me harder than I expected.~~

"It shouldn't be easy," he agreed. "It should never be easy to let them go - once it is, then you've reached the point were you're not connected to people any more... and that's bad in its own way."

She blinked back sudden tears. ~~I'm already not connected to anyone. No one. He wasn't anything to me but I thought we had ... could have had some kind of bond and then he's just gone. I should have known better~~

"Of course you are," Victor corrected her. "You're still connected to him, or his not being here wouldn't hurt. If there wasn't a connection, then there would be nothing."

~~It's a nice thought~~ Ella signed. ~~But I don't believe it.~~

"You should believe it. No matter what you think, or how much you might want it to be true at times, you're connected to the people around you. Those connections can cause pain - great pain - but they also can give you relief, solace, friendship, and more. Pretending that the positive isn't there while acknowledging that the negative is... well, that's sort of silly, isn't it?"

~~I don't feel relief, solace, or friendship~~ She answered with tight hand gestures.

"Do you really not feel them, Ella?" Victor asked her. 'Or is that you're afraid to look and see that they're there?"

Her mouth dropped open. ~~You used my name. You never use my name.~~

This was not the place that he wanted to have this conversation, but then, on some level he'd hoped he'd never have to. "I never used to do a lot of things," Victor admitted. "Maybe if I'd woke up sooner, if I'd known how to before, things would have been different; maybe not. But you're connected to me, Ella. Never say that you aren't, because we both know that it isn't true."

Ella swiped quickly under her eyes with her fingers. In some ways, it was a moment that she had always hoped for - to be acknowledged by Victor as something more than just a person named Grey - but it almost hurt more for him to feel some connection that she didn't. They were not the kind of friends who shared secrets, dreams, hopes, and fears, or even the daily hum drum of life when they weren't at war. He had
Angie for that and she had, at best, a holo-program of a dead woman.

Ella forced herself to smile and let it light up her eyes. ~~You'd miss me if I had been suffocated when they flushed out of this tube, then? I always knew you were a big softie, Tiger."

"Of course I'd miss you," he answered, relieved that this wasn't going as badly as he'd feared in the quiet recesses of his mind. "I don't know about the softie part, but... I'd miss you."

~~It's always nice to know someone would care if you stopped breathing~~ She signed with some amusement.

"Then remember that there's always going to be someone," he told her. Perhaps not in the way that she might want, or might have wanted, or even in the way that he had wanted, once. He allowed himself to wonder, just for a moment, what might have happened if he'd explained himself better, or if she'd understood more clearly what he was saying that day on Mirusa IV - that he needed to hear her say that she loved him with her own voice, her own words, not the sterile, dead voice of her vocal processor. Then, he reached out and touched her on the arm, letting the thoughts of what might have been fade to the secret place where he held thoughts and memories of her close within himself and said, "There will always be someone that cares, Ella."

She pushed back the need to tell him that she was sorry, always sorry, for the horrible things she had said on Mirusa IV. He had at least forgiven her enough to try to care for her now and that would have to be enough. She patted his hand quickly - the brief contact of their skin not as painful as she had imagined - and then stepped back.

~~Thank you, Victor~~

"The Beasts Within, part 1"

Lt (JG) Artim Shivar
Lt (JG) T'Pei

[Science Lab 3]

T'Pei leaned forward on her hands, narrowing her eyes at the view screen in front of her. For the past two hours, she had been pouring over all of Lieutenant Shivar's materials on the Starbeasts, searching for any clue as to why the Hydrans would attack a creature they worshiped. Now, the display of the Starbeast they had just encountered rotated slowly in front of her, disclosing absolutely nothing about
why the Starbeast had even been in the Kateren nebula.

The swishing of the door alerted her to Artim's arrival, and she acknowledged him with a small nod as he walked immediately to a console. He seemed very distracted and didn't say anything, just walked straight to his console and pulled up information on the previous day's battle.

"How is your shoulder, Lieutenant?"

The voice of the Vulcan broke Artim's concentration on the panel in front of him. The sensor readings from the battle were not making sense to him. The Starbeast this time had not acted anything like that they'd encountered at Romulus and this was concerning to the Miran. It almost seemed like it was protecting something. But what?

"Its fine for the most part. Little sore."

The hard look T'Pei gave him at the obvious lie would normally have annoyed Artim to no end, but he wasn't looking at her. In fact, he had gone back to ignoring her in favor of the screen.

"Lieutenant." Once again she startled him.

"My work has turned up little. However, after reviewing the files from your previous Starbeast encounter, and comparing them the scans from this battle, I believe that Starbeasts are sexually dimorphic. I believe that the Starbeasts you encountered previously were male, and that this Starbeast was a female."

"What makes you say that?" Artim replied as he refocused the screen a bit.

"Here," T'Pei drew Artim's attention to the end of the Starbeast away from the tentacles. "This oblong sac is not present in the Starbeasts you encountered previously, and although our understanding of their anatomy is quite incomplete, it does not appear to be linked to any sort of digestive system. I believe it is an ovary, and that these--" She indicated two ducts which appeared to lead from the supposed ovary to the posterior of the creature. "--are the oviducts."

"But where are the eggs?" Artim asked as he started adjusting the scans again. "Then again, its wholly possible they were deposited somewhere. Look at this." Artim switched the screens view from the scans of the Starbeast and to what looked like a tactical plot. "I noticed this when I was comparing behavior patterns between the Starbeast we encountered at Romulus and this one. No matter how the
battle progressed it was trying to interpose itself between the Hydran fleet and this area. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"As I do not know exactly what your thoughts are, I cannot know what if they are the same as mine," T'Pei stated bluntly, 14 years in Starfleet not having been quite enough to teach her to bite her tongue. "Are you implying that this Starbeast might have recently laid eggs? That is possible. Given the difficulties we have previously had scanning Starbeasts, it is also possible that our scans are not sufficiently powerful to detect the eggs within her, or that their reproductive system is more complex than I previously described."

"Well she definitely was behaving like a mother protecting a nest. And it's hardly surprising that we can't detect the eggs. Its hard to pick up anything in that nebula. Scans would likely not pick up something so weak from this distance." Artim finally looked up from the screen.

"If you are correct, and this Starbeast was protecting unhatched offspring, then there are two logical possibilities. Given the adults' ability to withstand the nebula's conditions, the eggs could be adrift. Alternately, it could have deposited them in a protected location, most likely outside the nebula, as there is unlikely to be anything inside large enough to provide protection."

"I wouldn't say that. For all we know the nebula is the protection for these things. Hmmm...wait a sec...what's this?", Artim pointed to a grid square on the scan field where there were three small blips. As he focused the scans on those areas the silhouettes of more Starbeasts resolved themselves from the static. "Well then, that answers my next question. I was wondering where the father was."

T'Pei leaned over the Miran's shoulder to inspect the area he had indicated. And then immediately jerked her body back to standing, surprised.

"I believe you mean fathers." Regaining her composure, she re-examined the screen. "From this distance, however, internal scans to the level of detail required are impossible. Without getting closer, we will not be able to even preliminarily determine sex."

"I think the assumption is pretty safe,and I'm not sure we'll be able to get close enough with the ship. Might need a probe," Artim responded.

T'Pei had stopped listening. She stood frozen, staring at the limited readings they could pick up on the three Starbeasts.

"Lieutenant, look at this." She pointed to the screen. "Those three Starbeasts are dead. I am reading no life signs from them." She paused in thought, still glued to the screen. "We do not know why the Hydrans attacked a Starbeast in the first place. These bodies might contain some clue as to their motivation. In addition, if the eggs exist, and are in this vicinity, then we must assume that they are now unprotected. If we were to obtain a sample...contact Commander Iniara. We need to go back."

"I concur. This is a chance we can't pass up. I for one would kill to get a close up look at one that's not trying to kill us," Artim reached for his Comm Badge. "Shivar to Iniara. Commander, if you have a moment could you please come to Science Lab 3. I've got something I need to show you and its quite urgent."

“Chief Medical Officers Log: Stardate 50803.03”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ CMO’s Office – Sickbay ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Computer, begin log entry.”

“It’s been two days now since Captain M’Kantu was attacked and nearly killed on the bridge, and a complete scan of his spinal column has identified the damage done during the attack. When he was first brought here I was adamant that he wasn’t leaving here unless it was on his own two feet, but after seeing the totality of the damage, I have to wonder if he’ll ever manage to walk again.”

Pausing her monotone dialogue Kimberly sipped her coffee and sat back wearily. For two days she had been reading everything she could lay her hands on, running test after test and scan after scan on the Captain to determine exactly what had been damaged.

The spinal cord… A delicate bundle of billions of nerves, so fragile that the spinal column not just keeps humans upright, but protected the mass of fine strands within it. When K’aa had snapped M’Kantus neck the delicate strands had been stressed and snapped in the second it had taken to twist his neck. Vertebrae had been broken and slivers of bone had also wreaked havoc.

The only good news so far was that according the medical and telepathic scans the Captain was still in there, mentally alive. He was still unconscious though, the massive shock to his system had pushed him into a self induced coma and she was hesitant to try and awaken him from just yet. He would only be waking up to the news that he was now a tetraplegic, totally paralysed from the neck down, and his life for the foreseeable future revolved around the machines that were keeping him alive. Before she tried to wake him she wanted some good news, something to give him a measure of hope.

His spinal cord was damaged around the second and third cervical vertebrae primarily, and though there were some undamaged nerves in the core of the nerve bundle, exactly what they governed they wouldn’t be able to fully ascertain until he was awake, but those survivors were the exception rather than the rule.

Picking up her log entry again she spoke slowly and wearily, the catnaps she had managed were enough, but it wasn’t physical tiredness, but a mental weariness, frustration and more than a little fear that she might not be able to help without some divine inspiration, or preferably divine intervention. “Regenerating the damaged nerves is a simple enough procedure, and something done on an almost daily basis when limb replacements are carried out. In this case however the sheer volume of nerves to be repaired is overwhelming, and then add to that the issue of correctly connecting all the nerves, and we have a problem.”

Looking down at a PADD she shuddered at the number that sat there. In a typical surgical procedure you could map, regenerate and reconnect a nerve in as little as five minutes with proper preparation.

So, theoretically, even if there were as few as one Billion nerves to repair that would take five Billion minutes… or three hundred and forty seven Thousand two hundred and twenty two Days… or nine Thousand five hundred and twelve Years… of non-stop surgery to repair and reconnect them all.

“That’s a ‘Frelling’ lot of coffee…” She muttered as she re-read the PADD. “And even after that there’s still rehabilitation and you have to assume some nerves aren’t going to be reconnected properly, it’s inevitable…” Sighing she got up and started pacing around, her train of thought had started on simple options like of neuro transducers, motor assist bands, but had dismissed them almost immediately as in this case it would require a full body suit just to keep him alive with minimal mobility. From there she had considered massive courses of adenochondroitinase treatment or a spidrex protein bath to help repair the nerves insitu, both options would greatly assist in the rapid repair and regeneration of the nerve fibres, but had again dismissed both ideas as there would still be the potential for massive reconnection errors and neural scarring that would inhibit nerve function.

Thinking back to the Pathfinder reports she had read she found herself wishing for a moment she could somehow get a Vidiian to stop by, their medical transplant techniques were far superior… then she shook her head and chided herself for wishful thinking. This wasn’t the time or place for flights of fancy.

“There’s some interesting research ongoing regarding spinal regeneration using peptide nanofibres, essentially tiny artificial tubes made from proteins and carbon that could be used as a basis for reconstructing damaged nerves and tissues, but yet again we return to the complexity of making sure everything connects to what it’s supposed to connect to!” Sounding frustrated now she dumped her half drunk coffee into the replicator and ordered up another.

Looking back at her desk as she sipped at her fresh coffee her eyes turned to a PADD she had been trying not to re-read for the last six hours, hoping to find something, anything else that might offer a better alternative.

With a resigned sigh she grabbed the PADD and looked again at the file. To date there had been one recorded successful spinal transplant in Federation medical history, and that had only succeeded because the recipient of the experimental procedure had been a Klingon, and his Brak’lul had kept him alive where most any other species would have died on the table as he so nearly had.

“I’ve been reviewing the research and files on the genitronic replicator,” she admitted to her log with obvious reluctance. “Though it’s been sixteen years since the only successful operation by Doctors Crusher and Russell on the Enterprise, there have been no other trials as Starfleet Medical still lists the procedure as highly hazardous and unsafe for a living subject. Even in simulations the success rate is currently only around forty two percent, much too low a figure to risk.”

Pausing her log recording with a tap of her finger she frowned a moment as she rooted around for a different PADD, another experimental procedure involving neural regeneration. Part of the problem was accurate imaging, and part was accurate attachment of the nerves. One of the functions of the genitronic replicator was to assist in the reattachment of the nerves, something it could do well enough with a limb or a specific organ as the nerve bundles involved weren’t massive, but with a spine there were just too many.

Sliding a PADD out of a pile she ignored the resulting clatter as the remainder spread themselves out over the floor and looked at the notes from Deep Space Nine, nearly ten years ago. Somehow a group of genetically enhanced people had managed to tweak a neurocortical scanner and focus its imaging scanners so fine it had allowed the resident CMO to manipulate neural proteins beyond what was normally possible at that point, subatomic manipulation wasn’t normally needed, but in this instance…

~ Hmmm… ~

Sweeping her desk clear of the detritus that was covering it she ignored the half eaten snacks, cups of cold coffee and now unneeded PADDs as they joined the rest of the mess in her office on the floor and went over the two files word by word, a faint smidgen of hope stirring within as she started to form an idea of just how she could actually do this. There wasn’t the need to replicate a whole new spine for the Captain, only the damaged sections needed to be replaced, and though the scanners in sickbay weren’t set up for the subatomic accuracy that had been achieved on DS Nine, they could easily be upgraded, the technology had been approved for use years ago, it was just so few people needed that level of pin point precision.

“The only matter now is how to actually improve the odds of success.” She muttered to herself as she started drawing up a list of what she was going to need. The targeting scanners on the medical transporters of course had to be fine tuned to their best possible specs, and they’d actually need a genitronic replicator, ~ Damn, I hope the specs are on file! ~

“Burton to Dhanishta Eshe.” She said suddenly as she absently tapped her comm badge, “Could you come to my office please, asap, I need your help on something urgent.”

Absently ignoring the reply Kimberly opened the Captains file as she realised there was one other thing she’d need. Consent from next of kin. As he wasn’t awake yet for her to discuss the possibility with him, someone else had to agree to the experimental procedure.

“Computer, put me through to June M’Kantu.” She said confidently.

Frowning she read the next name on the Captains list of next of kin as the call was processed. ~ And just who the hell is Shiarrael i'Rhehiv'je Terrh'vnau? ~ She wondered as she stumbled over the pronunciation of the second name, ~ That almost sounds… Romulan? ~.

<tbc…>

"Phantom Risks"

With

The Phantom Shitter

&

Some NPC's

Senior Officer's Country, USS Galaxy.............

Beta Shift. It was the absolute perfect time to strike the next target. After leaving the previous present in the Crew Lounge the other day, there wasn't much fuss made other than grumbling from the Environmental Services people. Which meant that it wasn't enough. There was no rise to get out of it if no one made a big deal about it, if no one even really cared other than to 'document the occurrence and increase the local patrol. No, there was no challenge there. None whatsoever. And the Phantom needed to get a point across.

There were a few people who were very good potential targets. But it would be to get to their space while they weren't occupying it. And that was much, MUCH easier than it sounded. Security lockouts had to be disabled, security monitors redirected, yadda, yadda. Therefore, the Phantom had to choose a target that was high enough on the success ladder, yet low enough that a major effort wouldn't be made to find out who did it.

Feeling excited, the Phantom immediately began preparations. No better person deserved this as far as the menace was concerned. And best yet, no one would take them seriously if a complaint was made, considering the person's......reputation.

****

Torpedo Launcher 2, Deck 29.........

"You know, whoever it was that shat on our coffee table has got to be one fucked up individual," a crewman was saying. He held a large mug that proclaimed, "I blow my load" and was drinking copious amounts of coffee from it. "I mean how do you shit on a table?" He shook his head and took another big gulp.

"Well, I did some research, and came up with something interesting," one of his compatriots was saying. She had reddish hair and emerald green eyes, with the fire of a supernova hiding behind them. "Apparently, during the early 20th Century on Earth, there was somewhat of an urban legend surrounding a Phantom Shitter." Everyone stopped what they were doing, including the Coffee Drinker. He stopped in mid-gulp.

"So what exactly is the deal with this Phantom Shitter," a younger Crewman Apprentice asked. He had never heard of such a thing.

"For whatever reason," the Redhead explained, "this person defacates all over the ship in weird and obnoxious places. Like the table in a Mess Hall, or even the XO's ashtray."

"I don't think Commander Iniara smokes," a dark skinned 'Load Toad' commented. "At least not as far as anyone has seen."

"Anyway," Redhead continued, "This person could go for months without being discovered, and then just like that they stop."

"Let that mother fucker come and shit on my table, I've got something for his ass," Coffee Drinker grumbled. He took yet another gulp, looked into his cup, then got up for a refill.

****

Senior Officer Country, USS Galaxy

Getting past the security lock was a cinch, but the Phantom took the time to look around at its target's domain. There was a picture of the target with a beautiful woman who looked similar to him. They both sported well tanned skin and the target had finely chiseled features, like a model.

Perfect, the Phantom thought darkly. Trousers once again dropped, and a nice mound of nastiness was left on the desk, covering the picture and anything else it oozed over. Apparently, last night was burrito & cheese night for the Phantom. Walking out the Phantom paused to look at a plaque that was mounted on the wall, a Starfleet Commendation - Battle of Deep Space 5. The Shitter smiled as it saw the name of whom it was presented to.

Thyago Carniero.

[TBC]

"Mourning"
by Cadet Artemis Bancroft
and Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin

Numb.

That was the best feeling to describe it. A deep numbness. No pain. No anything.

In the middle of space battles, there really wasn't a lot for cadets to do. Especially a cadet still trying to decide whether to stick with the Operations coursework she had been planning on. Or whether to embrace her heritage. Her mother had been an amazing pilot. She had been taught by someone more amazing than mum. Her teacher stood nearby, waiting to be called into duty. Though, the woman here was a
younger version of the teacher, she was still good. Just not as good as she would someday become.

Artemis Bancroft looked down at the display one more time. The words hadn't changed.

"It happens, Artemis," Shi said. Her attention hadn't shifted from the screen before her. If she was needed, she had to be ready. The ship and crew could not afford her to not being paying attention when the summons came. "There will always be casualties in what we do. Especially as a starfighter pilot. It is a risk you will face if you pursue that as your career. Is that still your desire?"

"Yes," Artemis said. "I filed the official papers yesterday. As soon as time permits, I'll be given a performance review. The simulation scores will determine where I place in the program. From there, I'll be working with the other pilots to learn the ropes."

Shi nodded. "Will you need to return to Starfleet Academy?"

"The commander said it's likely I will," Artemis answered. "So, probably. At some point. With the war going on, who knows though. After today, they may just stick me in a fighter just to have a warm body in the seat."

"It will not be like the holo-programs."

Artemis nodded. "I know," she said. "I suspect it's close enough. It'll be scary in the first live battle. But, I've got the reflexes for it, I guess."

"You do," Shi said. "If the simulations are any indication, you are a far more capable pilot than I."

Only because of you, Artemis thought. "I'm okay," she said. "I should go down to the flight deck. I know they probably don't want a kid around right now. And I guess it's probably a bad time to drop in and say 'Hey, I'm gonna join you guys' but I feel, if that's where I feel I belong, that's where I should go."

"That would be an accurate assessment," Shi said. She turned away from monitoring the ship's position and status enough to smile at her friend. "I will see you tonight."

"Yeah," Artemis said. "If you get the call, stay frosty." She patted Shi's shoulder as she passed.

With a sigh, Artemis Bancroft proceeded onward toward the Galaxy's flight deck. If there was mourning to be done, she should be there with the people she hoped would be her fellow pilots and friends.

"The Beasts Within part 2"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Lt. JG T'Pei
Lt. JG Artim Shivar

[Science Lab 3]

Fifteen minutes after Artim had paged her, the XO entered Lab 3 to see the Miran talking down to someone for the first time she could recollect. He appeared to be vigorously debating something with T'Pei, but the Vulcan Ops officer had seated herself at a console, making them eye to eye, or perhaps even leaving her a couple of inches shorter than Artim.

Putting aside thoughts of how strange it was to see a seeming child discussing something with a placid Vulcan as if they were equals, Iniara strode towards them. Hopefully this would be quick. "Greetings, Lieutenants. You called?"

T'Pei's Vulcan hearing caught Iniara's entrance first, and she halted mid-sentence and stood, ruining the cartoonish picture the pair had made. "Ma'am. Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice."

"Not a problem. What have you got for me?" Something caught her attention on the nearest computer screen, a familiar shape or two. She frowned, trying to make sense of the various images and readouts. "Something to do with that Starbeast, I hope?"

"StarbeastS actually ma'am." The Miran made sure to emphasize the plural form he was using. Artim pulled up the enhanced version of the sensor scans and placed them on a larger screen behind them. The silhouettes of the three dead Starbeasts in the nebula appeared.

"A group of them?" Iniara was clearly surprised. "Do you know what they were doing; why they were congregating like that?"

"I was analyzing the behavior of the one we were fighting and realized it was staying between us and this area of the nebula. Went quite out of its way to do so actually. When T'Pei pointed out the one we were fighting was female and was without eggs, I got curious. I thought it might be protecting a nest of some sorts. I then started scanning this area with every sensor pallet I could get my hands on and we found them. Three more...and they're dead."

"It is not clear if these Starbeasts died protecting this particular female's eggs from the Hydrans before we arrived, or if the female Starbeast was protecting their bodies for other reasons. Regardless, the presence of these bodies represents an unprecedented opportunity to examine their physiology, and could perhaps provide information on both how the Hydrans controlled the creatures previously, and why they were unable to control the one we just encountered." T'Pei looked at the XO to gauge her reaction before continuing.

"Lieutenant Shivar and I believe that it would be in our best interests to re-enter the nebula and examine the bodies."

The XO rubbed her chin in thought. "Hmm. There's the potential to gain some valuable intel...perhaps learn how to combat these creatures more effectively..." Her voice trailed off as she considered the idea. It almost certainly would give them some new data...might even give them some decent intel...and of course it would give them something to do other than sitting around doing nothing. She would need to consult Command; even though they had received no new orders, their current orders were to remain outside the nebula, not go back in to check out Starbeast corpses. And then there was the issue of M'Kantu...at last check Dr. Burton had his situation under control, but if things took a turn for the worse...

"Summarize your initial findings in a report, and include with that a proposal for further research on the Starbeasts in the nebula," she concluded. "I'll have to pass it along to Starfleet Command, but if they say yes...we'll go back in."

"Figured you'd ask for that which is why I've been typing since I called you. Should be done shortly. Make sure Admiral Shel at Starfleet Science gets a copy, she'll make sure to get us clearance. Owes me a favor or 5 since I got two of her prior hosts through their lab practicums. In the meantime might I have permission to rig up a probe to get us a closer look without going in?" Artim asked clearly asking expecting a positive response.

Iniara's response was almost immediate. "Do it. I'll have Ops list this project as high priority, so use whatever resources you need. Just get us that intel."

T'Pei nodded. "We'll begin immediately."

"Yes mam", Artim replied. "Probe will have to be modified slightly. Lieutenant, I think you're better qualified than I to handle that part. I'll finish up here and then get to the bridge for launch."

T'Pei pondered the display of the nebula for a moment, and then nodded again. "It will be ready within four hours."

OOC: This is supposed to be set during the opening part of "Chanson de Bataile". Please Enjoy :)

"By Astor's Watchful Eye"

Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari (APC - Mike M.)

Lt. Ella Grey

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

As they flew towards the much larger Hydran fleet, Elrin did his best to focus on the battle in front of him while tuning out much of his wingman's idle chatter. Despite all the bad blood he could have had with the ferengi considering it was one of their ships that had killed his parents, Elrin could actually stand him. He was at least somewhat
interesting, but this wasn't the time for such things. There was a battle to fight and anything less than total focus could get one or both of them killed.

"Stubbs, I told you, I'm not interested in buying any Sluggo Cola shares. Can't stand the st...hold on....in Alanna's name!" Elrin's retort was stopped short as he turned his head to check his position in the formation and he saw...it for the first time. The Starbeast was lunging out after a Hydran destroyer which made a only made a very
narrow escape. Elrin could barely breathe at the sight of the thing. But it was not fear or surprise but rather reverent awe. Without saying a word he broke off their approach path and started heading in the general direction of the Starbeast, or as his people called them, Kit'astor.

"Uh, Vixen," Ella said over the comm. "You might want to try your other left."

"Are you a spirtual person ma'am?" , Elrin replied

"Not really," She replied.

"What would you do if you saw the face of your god? You'd have to get a closer look. Well, I just did...and its magnificent."

"It certainly is," Ella agreed. "And deadly."

Elrin continued to trail off towards the Starbeast. He was quite confident he, one of Astor's faithful servants, would not be harmed by one of his sons. One of the Gaurdians of Kit'sar. As he got closer he came to notice something, the Hydrans were trying to...kill it. They were trying to harm one of the Gaurdians! They were striking a blow against Astor himself! With a jerk he veered back into formation, his eyes still glued to the Starbeast and the Hydran ships that were firing at it.

"By Astor's watchful eye we shall prevail this day." A fire emerged in Elrin's voice that he was quite sure that none in the squadron had heard before. Actually he was quite sure he'd never heard it from himself. He had never had such a strong desire for combat. And for some reason, it felt good. "They have dared defile on of Astor's
sons. They are striking a blow against all Kit'sar today. In Alanna's and Astor's names we shall make them pay."

Ella could only offer a silent prayer that he was right.

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