"A Time To Shit..."

With

The Phantom Shitter
Public Enemy

Chowing down on the day's special was pure bliss for the Phantom, as he was able to rectify the error he had made earlier. He had finally found Jaxom's quarters, easily bypassed the joke of a security system, and proceeded to plaster every wall and porthole with wonderful, aromatic brown.

And he was nowhere near done. Oh, he was just getting started. No one would catch him, and nothing would or could truly stop him now. Going through the mental list of potential targets, he figured it was time to pay one in particular a much needed visit. Yes indeed, tonight was going to be a fun night after all!

He made his way to the appropriate access way, which connected him to the appropriate junction, which in turn put him into the right ventilation shaft to reach one of his targets' rooms. Tonight was definitely going to be an awesome 2-fer.

The room was dim, but there was no one home. Of course the Phantom always made sure that no one was home when he struck. Even if he had to manufacture some type of event to get the unlucky sap outta dodge for at least 10 minutes. That was more than enough time for the Phantom, you see. After an evaluation was made, the Phantom decided on the best method of leaving his message. He dropped his drawers and laid a long path from the door about 3 feet in. When he passed enough of his slop, he took a brush and began spreading enough of it to remain thick near the door. When that Miran returned, he would find himself lying in a world of shit!

The Phantom giggled maniacally as he sealed his exit, moving on to the next target.......................

****

A few decks later in nicer accommodations, the Shitter prepared the same reception for the Chief Engineer, only this time he laid it on much thicker (as she was taller and heavier than the Child-like Miran, Artim. He even had a few more ounces to add thanks to his poor digestion. If that were something he was much concerned about, he apparently didn't bother to let someone in Medical know. But why would he do that? It made his making a statement go that much easier.. He thought about it for a moment, then used a scoop to suspend some just over the door. It was set so that whenever someone entered, they would get hit from either above, or by stepping in it at the very least. Preferably they slipped and fell. Lt. Eshe will give a whole new meaning to being mired in shit!

****

His last target for the night would be subject to a most diabolical sight. No slippery mess, falling feces, messages in Terran script (or any other script for that matter). No, the Phantom had a special treat for the CoB. Yes indeedy. His guts quivered in excitement.

First, he replicated a stuffed dog the size of a full grown Doberman. Next, he fitted a green sweater and scarf around the animal's neck. Finally, he committed his dastardly act, defiling the poor stuffed animal with (wouldn't you know it) green steaming shit. The Phantom pulled a hat trick, a triple play, a fucking turkey! And he was damned proud of himself. Maniacal laughter followed him as he recessed into the crawlspaces........

[TBC]

"The Breadcrumb Trail"

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

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

2nd LT Greg Ward
ARC Operations Lead
188th Starfleet Marines Detachment
Special Assault Squad-779
SFMC Special Forces

--ONPCs
=======================================

(Captured Hydran Carrier- Callsign 'Marine Alpha')

Colonel Arvelion busied himself on getting one of the Hydran bridge stations back online. In concert with his engineers and data warfare techs, they'd managed to gain direct (if limited) access to the Hydran computer's central core... and now it was a matter of re-establishing adequate command pathways to effectively reactivate the disabled stations.

The damn Hydrans sure as hell were good at making a mess of things. Despite it, they were making progress, slowly but surely. It would go a lot faster though if they had some help. Which is where the hesitant request came in.

For'kel didn't particularly like working with Lieutenant Bental, which depending on how you looked at things was either very understandable or completely baffling. On one level the two men had a lot in common... for example they were both hardened veterans, both had known more than their fair share of loss, both were intelligent and cunning, both were intertwined with women far above their 'level', and both were quite capable of handling their respective charges. Exactly why they seemed to clash as often as they did would be a bit of a mystery from this perspective.

On the other hand however, both had different reasons for doing what they were doing. Saul was much more career minded, For'kel more idealist. While Saul had spent much of his life surviving until the next day, For'kel often didn't stop to think about his own mortality, focusing instead on accomplishing the mission. Motivations more than actions put a definite gulf between the two men, and in that perspective it was easy to see why their working relationship was temperate at best.

But at the moment they needed each other. For'kel had a responsibility to turn over what intelligence their new captive vessel had brought (even if he had sent everything he could, along with a complete after-action report to the Marine Corps General Staff first), and he needed information. Saul was the type to only do exchanges, be it for favors or other information, and ergo this was likely the best way to get anything useful out of him. Besides, their previous encounters had been mostly in the Intel office. A change of scenery was in order.

Blue light flooded the bridge as the Lieutenant and three of his officers beamed in. There were a few whispers, then the intelligence operatives parted ways. One of them headed for the Colonel.

"Lieutenant." Fork had caught the regular fleet uniform out of the corner of his eye, and had figured it would be Bental. "Welcome aboard the newest Hydran Escort Carrier to enter Federation service. I need information."

The Stagnorian reached into one of his uniform's pockets and pulled out a PADD containing translated Hydran files. "Our Data Warfare techs stumbled across this ship's navigation logs. She met with an Orion vessel before rendezvousing with several ships, here, and continuing to some planet called Altroth III deep in Hydran territory. She was acting as an escort... and several logs indicate this was some sort of prisoner convoy. I need to know everything you have about that planet." He didn't say why, although he had secretly harboured hopes that the Orion vessel had transferred Bery off after it's hasty retreat.

Saul surveyed the PADD.

"You have marines who can use computers? Congrats on the upgrade. Do you realize that our own computer cores are wired in a way that would scramble most of the classified databases if the system believes it is penetrated? No reason to believe the Hydrans are less defensive. Wait for my men next time. Ch'itah and Mason are very professional in this line of work."

"Yes sir, sorry Lieutenant sir." For'kel replied sarcastically as he activated the now repaired console. "I examined their computer core myself, relax they didn't have time to activate any security protocols, and since they were in the middle of a battle most systems still had open connections. Besides, there wasn't exactly time to wait for you to show up... taking this thing was only half the battle. Now, Altroth III?"

"I know Altroth III relatively well. When we checked which outposts could be used as a rear command post for an invasion to the Vered cluster, it was one of the three most likely locations. There's nothing between Vered and Altroth but a whole lot of empty space. The planet itself is sparsely populated, because the atmosphere is not rich enough with Methane for the Hydrans' taste. They set aside an entire continent for military purposes, and we believe some of the facilities are used as prisons."

For'kel's eyebrow raised with that corroboration. The Hydrans' own records, and Saul's intel reports all made it seem like Altroth III was the likely location of his missing Marines. Going 'that' deeply behind enemy lines would be risky, but then again what wasn't?

"Can you get us there?"

"Undetected? Possibly, if we take advantage of some blindspots and use... well, trade secrets. Why do you ask?"

"They have four of my Marines Lieutenant, and I intend on getting them back."

Pulling up the warp signature from the mysterious vessel that had made a rapid departure from the Vered system, For'kel overlaid it over the warp signature from one of the ship's the carrier had last escorted to it's destination... revealing a perfect match. "Records indicate her last stop was on Altroth III, and before you bring it up I am well aware the Prisoners may have been moved, but in any eventuality the next clue for us should be on Altroth III." He looked down for a minute, collecting his thoughts. "And in any event, it's a key Hydran military facility which makes it a viable target. Are you in?"

"Yes." Saul replied simply.

Branwen.

Of course he's say yes for Bran. He was trying to track her since the Vered evacuation, without success. He rarely felt so frustrated and helpless, unable to find and save one of the few people on board he'd truly go out of his way to help. Despite her bad taste of men.

For'kel's story appeared to be a better clue than any he was able to excavate.

"Do you need help clearing it with the CO?"

"Damn, I knew I forgot something." Actually it was less an oversight, and more of a 'they're my Marines, we captured this ship, we'll bring it back after a quick spin' mentality, but now that Saul voiced the question For'kel figured he'd better at least inform someone. "I think I can handle it, but it would be better to have someone there who can answer questions regarding the risks of things. We could probably use some extra crew too... we'll beam over in half an hour."

As soon as he finished with the console, the Colonel replaced the sling Doctor Burton had made him wear that was always getting in the damned way. "Until then, you might want to have the Hydran data files transferred over to your department on the Galaxy. They'd do more there than here."

The ARCs came aboard the captured hydran vessel and as they took in the sites, Greg himself let a powerful shudder go across his body. Church noticed this and went over to his unit lead and gave him a questioning look for a moment which Greg caught,

"Sorry Chuch, it's like I'm reliving a moment that I don't know about." Greg said quietly to his friend. As the rest of the ARCs got onboard the ship, Greg turned to face them. "Alright, Simmons I want you to help the fleeters get the network on this POS up and running, Caboose you are on weapons detail with Grace and make sure that everything we got is ready and heated before everything goes down. The rest of you, make yourselves useful while I go and check in with the colonel."

Which then the ARCs snapped to their duties as Greg headed over to where For'kel was and waited at attention.

"As you were Lieutenant, you're going to sprain something." Unlike the typical Marine officer, For'kel wasn't much into meaningless displays of discipline... at least not from people he knew 'had' the appropriate level of self discipline. "There are several Hydran ships out there, some of which still have life-signs. I want you to lead a detail to rescue them, and escort them back to the holding center they're constructing on the Galaxy. Once that's done, get your men back here, I have something special planned."

Saul smiled inwardly. For'kel's question about getting to Altroth III wasn't hypothetical, it appeared, and Saul always preferred people who meant business.

"The Green Light"

Lieutenant Commander Tarin Iniara
Acting Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC
Commanding Officer
188th Starfleet Marine Detachment
===========================================

(USS Galaxy)

Saul and For'kel materialized along with the next group of EPWs. A squad of Marines saw to their secured confinement aboard the Galaxy class ship, while the Intel and Marine chiefs made their way to the Galaxy's command deck. The stupid sling was really starting to get on his nerves... after all Fork was used to being able to use ‘both’ arms for a given task. Now things as relatively simple as opening a door had to be thought on.

"Deck one." The Colonel called as both men entered the turbolift. He had to admit, Saul was the last guy onboard he thought he'd ever have as a ‘wingman’ for a mission proposal, but for whatever reason he seemed to think the mission a necessity. Maybe he wasn't as self absorbed as the rumors had lead the Stagnorian to believe. "You know if we ask, she could just easily say no." For'kel stated as a last warning. If it wasn’t for Saul's update he would have no clue M'Kantu was in sickbay and near death, or that the XO was calling the shots now. "This is probably the last chance we have to play dumb and just go."

"Don't understand what you're talking about, Colonel." said Saul, wearing a very dumb expression. Then, he cracked it with a smirk. "We won't have to, with Iniara in command now."

"Why Lieutenant, was that a joke?" For’kel grinned mildly. "There may be hope for you yet."

The doors to the bridge opened, and although the ravages of the battle were still plainly clear, they were slowly being patched together. The blood had at least been cleaned up for the most part, though For'kel could still see the deeper set stains. "Commander, do you have a moment?"

At the sound of the lift doors opening, Iniara looked up from the oversized padd she had been reviewing, watching as two familiar faces appeared and began to walk her way. She stood and passed the padd back to her yeoman, then moved to meet the pair. It was a rather unusual pair, she thought, and she wondered just what the Marine CO and the Chief of Intel were planning. "Certainly," she replied, gesturing towards the ready room door. "How are the prisoner interrogations going?"

"I instructed my people to mostly observe while security is handling that." said Saul, "We're a small team so we're focusing mostly on the big fishes - senior officer, Captains, and so forth - in attempt to assess immediate threat. SFI sent a team of captive interrogation specialists to perform a more thorough job, but it will take some time before they arrive."

As they entered the ready room Iniara leaned against the front of the desk, folding her arms loosely across her chest. She waited until Saul and For'kel were inside and the doors had closed before speaking again. "So, what's up?"

"I think we may have found my missing Marines." Whether it was excitement, or the combination of sleep deprivation and annoying pain, For'kel moved with an almost frantic manner, something wholly uncharacteristic of the usually collected and deliberate Colonel. He brought up one of the maps retrieved from the Hydran databases. His finger darted for a system that, in astronomical terms, was practically adjacent to the Hydran Home-system, all of a couple of days at warp away. "Altroth III, I need approval for a rescue mission."

"For’kel’s people found some evidence on the captured ships. It's not conclusive, but it ties the dots nicely and I think it’s genuine. Plus, we have the means to get there with all the captured loot."

"So you're planning a joint 'Fleet/Marine mission, then,” Iniara observed. "My approval wouldn't make a bit of difference if it was only Marine personnel and resources involved."

For’kel nodded. "Even if it was just a Marine Op, it's typically considered polite to inform the ship’s Captain. That being said, I could use volunteers to control the ship... I already have some volunteers for the mission itself. We still need your go ahead."

"You said ‘may have found'. How certain are you that this is where your people ended up?"

"I’m confident. The computer records indicate that our carrier's last action prior to assembling with this task force was to escort transports to Altroth III, and one of the ships it was escorting has the exact same warp signature as the vessel we barely detected leaving Vered. We can't exclude the possibility it was planted evidence, but I think it's an acceptable risk all things considered." For'kel looked over to Saul for his reaction.

Iniara uncrossed her arms and tapped the hard surface of the desk for a moment as she pondered the map displayed on the wall. The system wasn't that far away from their current position, but it was of course in Hydran territory... "What's your plan?"

"We outfit the captured carrier with holographic communications technology, lay in course for Altroth III, make good use of any gaps in their front lines that we can exploit, land an assault force which will infiltrate any prison complex, liberate the POW's and get back to the ship. We'll then lay in course for Federation territory at maximum warp where, hopefully, we won't be shot on sight." For'kel looked up from the map to Iniara. "Commander, I haven't asked for a lot since coming on board. I am pleading with you, authorize this mission."

"No need for pleading," she replied with a slight smile. "After all, we don't leave anyone behind...so a rescue mission is inevitable. And this is certainly less risky than what we pulled getting everyone off Deep Space Five."

Iniara paused, her brow creasing into a frown. "Have you...hmm..." She scratched her head, clearly trying to pull something from the depths of her memory. After several seconds she looked back at the men. "Lieutenant Everett, the Acting CAG. I remember reading something about him piloting a Hydran fighter in a mission once.
Speak to him; he might be able to help, or at the very least give you some tips on flying the carrier."

"Aye Captain." For the first time in too long a while For’kel let a smile slip across his face. "And thank you."

"It's the least I can do, I guess," she replied. Oh, how strange it sounded to have people calling her that certain C-word. "Just...once you get all your plans worked out, toss a copy across my desk. When Command calls and wants to know why one of our captured vessels is suddenly heading back towards Hydran space, I want to be able to do something more than shrug." She grinned, then added, "And it would be an awful waste to have you blown to bits by some overzealous border patrol vessel that wasn't expecting you."

"You'll have it within the hour." For'kel replied dutifully.

“To Do List…”

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ CMO’s Office ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t exactly what you could call a plan, for it to be an actual plan there had to be a set of clearly defined decisions about how to do something in the future.

Right now all she had was a collection of ideas, theories and possibilities which, if correctly put together could theoretically become a cohesive whole… then she’d have a plan.

Though the ships database hadn’t had the complete specs for the genitronic replicator, Starfleet medical obviously had, and a lengthy conversation that had culminated with an hour long talk with no less that Ghee P’Trell himself, had seen the specs transferred to the medical computer. There was still considerable doubt at many levels as to whether her ‘plan’ actually had any chance of success, but until she ran her simulations and put a detailed proposal on the table at least no one was saying no.

Frowning as she read her to do list again she muttered several soft obscenities when she saw no response to her hails to the Aesculapius. The medical frigate was a fair distance away, but still no answer. It was starting to get annoying, the specialist she needed had filed a routine transfer request some time ago, and she wanted to get a hold of Doctor Watson before she ended up on some explorer out of range.

Other than that, there was still the pressing need for an engineering team, ~ Speaking of which ~ she reminded herself as she slapped her comm badge irritably, “Burton to Dhanishta Eshe. Could you ‘please’ come see me, I urgently need some assistance. Thank you.”

Her door parted before the hail was even acknowledged. Dhanishta stepped through without so much as a ‘hi there’ or ‘hello’, she simply tapped the com line closed and stepped up to Kimberly’s desk, carefully maneuvering round the pile of padds that littered the floor – to which she didn't even offer a raised brow.

She stood stoic before Kimberly, hands at her sides, dark eyes peering out through red rims, awaiting instruction. Her face was pale, her demeanor sober and while she tried to appear nonchalant the pensive crows feet by the corners of her eyes gave away the fact, to anyone astute, that she was deeply troubled.

Looking up as her door opened Kimberly found herself frowning as Dhani navigated her way through the cluttered office. The two of them had been keeping a reasonable distance between each other since she had so expertly put her foot so far into her mouth that her surgical skills were now required to remove it, and keeping a distance wasn’t easy considering they were both senior officers on this warp capable asylum.

Nodding as Dhani paused before her desk, Kimberly indicated a vacant chair, “Thanks for stopping by, have a seat.” She offered. This was getting stupid she realized, she’d frelled up, so the least she could do was extend the proverbial olive branch, though right now may not be the best time. Closing her eyes for a second she pinched the bridge of her nose and she sighed as she focused her thoughts on what she needed. ~ A miracle! ~ Came the answer.

Dhanishta cast a weary eye around the room before dislodging a chair from a pile of padds, sliding it across the carpeted floor and into position in front of Kimberly desk. Sitting down she crossed her legs and shifted until she was mildly comfortable, and then nodded for Kimberly to proceed with whatever it was she wanted of her.

“Look,” Kimberly started bluntly as she opened her eyes, “you don’t like me, and I can understand why. I can be annoying and pushy at times, though I doubt that’s the main reason. I put my foot in it a while back and accused you of something, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Speaking rapidly she wanted to get this out and said before Dhani walked out, “you were right, I can’t disagree that my own problems are sorta textbook, just didn’t figure that I was that easy to read since you’re the first person to come out and say it, ever.” That she hadn’t really spoken about things much to anyone else probably also contributed to Dhani being able to pick up on things she realized.

Dhanishta blinked once and then twice. ~Nothing to do with me~, she realized, ~Kimmie is trying to alleviate her conscience. Once more shifting the ball into my court and expecting me to play. Well I don’t.~ Dhani thought slightly vexed. ~I hate tennis, I was never any good at it, spring ball is right down there at the bottom of the list of ‘things I hate to do’.~

“I know my personal beliefs aren’t that popular, especially now we’re in a war, but that’s something I’ll deal with… I’ll have to one day, but right now I couldn’t care less, I’ve a job to do and I like to think I do it fairly well,” she added with a touch of pride in her voice, “I may not be the youngest CMO in the fleet, but I’m not far from it. But to do the job, I need to at least be able to work with you, to talk to you. And to be honest,” she added, her tone softening, “I kinda miss talking to you, especially off duty.”

Dhanishta said nothing, did nothing, didn’t bat an eyelid or move a muscle. Just stared at Kimberly blankly.

“I can only apologize so many times,” she admitted, “but for now, that’s all I can do. Right now though I need your help, ‘cause if I’m gonna help the Captain you’re gonna have to help me,” sliding a PADD across the table her voice lost its soft edge, “I need you.” She admitted sincerely.

Leaning forward Dhanishta retrieved the padd and began to read the text. Skimming it twice she cocked her head to one side. “A little, if not a lot, ambitious,” she commented dryly.

“Ambitious… Probably, yes.” Kimberly admitted with a resigned sigh, “The genitronic replicator isn’t a simple device, and its calibrations are going to have to be exact, right down to subatomic accuracy for it to have a hope of doing its job properly. The upgrades to the neurocortical scanners and probes are standard upgrades, but again the calibrations will require the most attention. The other modifications and calibrations are to standard kit in sickbay, surgical bed, life support equipment and medical transporters.” Pausing a moment she leant over and tapped the PADD to bring up a second file, “This however has to be your first task I’m afraid, I need this unit and its cradle built and installed in the small office we’ve cleared across the corridor by this time tomorrow, as well as a backup.” Letting Dhanishta read the specs for the complex holo emitter unit for a moment she raised an eyebrow, “can you do it by then?” she asked, still a little confused as to why she had said nothing about the other things she had said. ~ Maybe she doesn’t give a damn? ~ she wondered silently.

Dhanishta looked over the specs again and sighed. Her staff and herself, no less, hadn’t been under this much demand, that she could recall, for a long time, if ever. She raised a hand to her face, wiping the rheum from the insides of her eyes before rubbing her face, refreshed by the coolness of her fingers, before attempting to respond.

Her mind felt aflame, bogged down with tasks, reports and schedules. Right now she would give her right had to have some help. Zack had died, along with several other experienced officers that she had come to rely upon. What stung most was the fact that she didn’t really know any of them. They had just always been there, like pieces of furniture, the cogs that kept the machine going. Without them she was feeling the pinch, seeing for the first time how her abstaining from involving herself in their lives, even in the peripheral of their lives, was affecting her ability to lead them. She had tried to think about what she could say at their memorial services. Pinda Dana, Mia Thomas, Rebecca Matthews, Kiktina and Zack Jackson had all served on this ship long before she was made Chief. And she didn’t have a decent thing to say about any of them other than: they were good, hard working, dedicated officers... what a crock of shit!

She tried to focus but her mind wouldn’t allow it. She had to go off her initial gut instinct she’d had when she skimmed the request the first time. “If you want it done to the specs you have indicated, it is going to take longer than 24 hours,” she replied clipped, trying to push through the guilt she felt, the tiredness that filled her bones and the aching in her chest.

“How much longer?” Kimberly enquired gently. Though the bulk of the work could be done over the next few days, this was the most vital piece, without it she wouldn’t be able to get started on the simulations, assuming she actually managed to get in contact with Watson in the first place.

Dhanishta ran a hand through her tousled hair, “I’m not sure,” she admitted with a sigh.

“This is important Dhanishta,” Kimberly assured her. “It may seem odd, but trust me without it we might as well pack the Captain off to a starbase for the rest of his life. I cannot help him without this.” Wanting to say more, and not just about what she was trying to do for the Captain, she held her tongue though. Dhani looked tired, and no surprise there, they had all been busy recently.

Dhanishta nodded, “I understand the severity of the situation Doctor,” she replied somewhat bluntly, “no one wants to see the Captain survive this more than I, but you are forgetting the constraints we are under.” She looked into Kimberly eyes, sure in her perceptions that the good Doctor had been focusing all her energies into this project, negligent to the pressures that the rest of them were under. “I have at least five good officers resting on cold slabs in your morgue, more than that on the biobeds out there,” she indicated thumbing towards the door, “our hull is exposed to space in more than one location, we have Hydran prisoners on board and a plethora of technical problems that would take more breath and time to explain to you than I currently have to give.”

She sucked in a breath and bit down upon her tongue for a moment, biting back the acidic replies she wished to vent at someone, anyone. But it was unfair to do it here; she had more than enough on her plate – venting her frustrations was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

“I’ll do what I can and have an ETA with you in about four hours,” she said, “I can’t offer you much more than that at the moment Doctor.”

Biting her own tongue for a moment Kimberly held back her initial reply and mentally revised it before speaking, she hadn’t been blind to recent events, far from it, and like Dhanishta she had the unenviable task of cleaning up the aftermath. But from her perspective fixing the damage after a battle was far more important than a few hull sections and EPS relays. Lives were at stake here, and one in particular was the topic of conversation right now.

“I’m well aware of how many good people are currently on ‘cold slabs’ right now Lieutenant,” she said, sounding somewhat irritable, “I have to sign off on every death certificate, and half of them died while I was trying to save them.” She admitted, the pain and regret of each loss evident in her voice. “Believe me when I say I know what’s been happening, and what ‘is’ happening. Right now all I’m trying to do is pick up the pieces, and getting the Captain back on his feet is for me my top priority, not just because he’s the Captain, but also for this ship and the morale of the crew.” Adding the last may have been an unnecessary reminder, but all too often some people forgot the Captain was more than just the ships commander, he was their leader, and often the glue that held the smooth running of the ship together.

“The sooner I can say with confidence he is alive, well and expected to make a full recovery the better off everyone on this ship will feel.” Taking a mental step back she softened her tone, “I know it’s manic, and I know there’s a lot to do. And I know you’re worried about a lot of things right now, especially Chandrakala.” That the other Eshe was in sickbay hadn’t escaped her attention, and she had been watching that particular patient almost as closely as the Captain. “I am doing everything I can for every patient out there. I promise you.”

Dhanishta couldn’t bite back the anger any longer, “I assure you ‘Doctor’ that there is a lot more at stake than a few EPS relays and a ‘few’ sections of hull that needs to be repaired. I know you tried your hand at engineering once, but don’t make the mistake that you are a qualified engineer, and don’t tell me what there is and isn’t to do, nor what is more important than the repairing of this vessel, for the simple fact remains ‘Doctor’ that this ship is what keeps you alive. You got that?” she questioned aggressively standing up.

What was it about Kimberly that ‘always’ riled her up? Was it the patronizing ‘I know better than you’ tone she habitually used? Was it the counselor within that was always trying to assert itself into every situation? That lopsided smile, or the fact that *every* time they talked she brought up what she had done? And this time threw it at her in the most trying of circumstances, adding it in like a chocolate sprinkles over hot chocolate, so superfluous to the discussion at hand.

Or was it that she was still hurt over what Kimberly had done. Hated the fact that she knew she needed to talk to someone but was damned if she was going to now that Kimberly had highlighted that fact. Like some malfunctioning teenager she rebelled in the face of orthodoxy, pushed away those that only wanted to help. And what was the point in it? Who did it hurt other than herself?

“The best way for you and me to work together it to keep it professional Doctor.” Dhanishta said with forced civility, “I’m an officer of the Fleet, and I’ll keep to decorum as log as you keep to professionalism.” She eyed her coldly, “Will that be alright by you Doctor Burton?”

“Fine,” Kimberly snapped, suddenly angry. “Let’s keep it professional. I’m well aware that this ship keeps us all alive, and I’m more than aware that my engineering talents are limited. I’m a Doctor frell it, not an engineer! I’m also aware that there’s a difference between what I think and what I say.” She said somewhat acerbically.

“Now, if you please, I need that holo unit up and running as soon as possible, so if you can get an ETA asap I would appreciate it so I can get on with my job! Thank you Lieutenant.” Adding the last somewhat dismissively she turned her desk computer to face her. She had tried to start the conversation on a polite note but all she seemed to have done was piss her off even more, was there ever going to be a time when they could just ‘talk’ again?

Dhani drew in a breath as if to reply but stopped herself. She clicked her heals together, coming to some form of attention and then turned and walked out the door.

Her exhale was slow and wavering as she paused outside the door, gathering her senses, pulling herself together. She desperately wanted to turn around, march back in there and… and crumble into Kimberly arms, let the woman coo over her, fuss her and wipe the tears from her eyes, tell her that everything was going to be alright, tell her that she loved her, supported her and cared for her.

Dhanishta wiped the moisture from her eyes. What she really wanted was a mother… her eyes turned to the door, almost seeing the woman within turn to meet her gaze. She wondered if she was doing just that. Wanting to run after her, talk to her, but it was no use wanting these things. Dhani couldn’t let Kimberly be something that she wasn’t…

Perhaps that’s what really made her angry.

It wasn’t the lopsided smile, the patronizing tones or the counselor within, or even the medic without, not even her dashed attempts to make peace under any circumstance that she could find to do so.

It was that she was maternal, she was all the qualities that Dhani associated with parental. Kimberly cared for Dhanishta to such an extent that it could be likened to that quality.

Dhanishta hated her mother, yet at the same time wanted to be loved by her, wanted to love her… wanted so much to have a relationship where she could count on her. But couldn’t.

Did she hate Kimberly too? Or just resent her for all the things she tried to do for her ‘because’ she was so similar to the parental figure she never had?

Dhanishta frowned at the analogy. It was so Freudian she though she might be sick.

Tucking the data padd under her arm she swiftly left sick bay and headed for Main Engineering as fast as she could.

"Operation Retrieval" Part One

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC
Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell – EMRT
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff - Security Second
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

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

(Marine Drill Deck- USS Galaxy)

The information gained from the prisoners, coupled with the records captured from the Hydran Carrier, gave a good view of what they would be facing in terms of enemy defences on the planet. At the planning table on the Drill Deck, several people stood over a pieced together holographic representation of the prison site on Altroth III. There was the sprawling prison complex, marked by several buildings linked by an underground complex of multiple levels. The prison itself was protected by the planet's defence umbrella, several weapons platforms in orbit, inspired by the Hydran Navy's experiences in Cardassian Space where, despite victory, they lost a considerable portion of their forces to the damned things.

Just inside the planet's orbital path was a small dock used to service carrier task forces stopping in the system. A Carrier Group rotated in fairly routinely, but the distance of the yards from the front lines, and their relative secrecy, convinced the Hydrans that they would see any potential enemy assault on the planet well in advance so as to sortie a response in time.

The planet itself had a normal array of defences for something of its strategic value. The planet's much diluted methane atmosphere made it too inhospitable for normal colonization, and thus the defences were mostly automated. There was a battery of surface placed hellbore cannons, and fusion beam emitters surrounding the military base to deter any landing attempt.

Were those odds not daunting enough, a mere three kilometres from the prison facility was the Hydran's famed Altroth III Survival, Escape, Resistance, and Evasion training centre. Staffed by a Special Forces Battalion, it specialized in putting the Navy's elite pilots and their Imperial Special Forces troops through hell and back for their eventual entrance into the fleet. They would be in range of the camp the entire time, and had fighters and vehicles to react with. Even if a precise enemy landing was coordinated on the prison itself, it was likely any attacking force would be surrounded before an escape could be effected. Shields and transporter inhibitors made anything other than Hydran transporters useless. The defence structure was a masterstroke of brilliance, using concealment, camouflage, terrain features, 'and' technology to the defendant's advantage.

Colonel Arvelion had his own skill set however, and part of it included bypassing or otherwise overcoming enemy defences. "We're going in deep, and we're going in hard."

"Surely you can't be serious?" Sergeant Charles Wilfred, a British Marine pilot looked at the set up. "We'd be shot down in seconds."

"Deadly serious Sergeant, and don't call me Shirley." For'kel shot back, not quite yet accustomed to the British accent which, to someone with his kind of hearing, was even more difficult to come to grips with. "Being shot down is exactly why we're not taking the hoppers. Thanks to Lieutenant Bental's people and our new prize, we know how to evade their border patrols and sensor stations. I can't go into specifics on how we'll get there for security reasons, but sufficing to say we'll arrive. Then..." he pulled up another holographic view of what looked like a standard torpedo casing. "We land. Their equipment is extremely sensitive, but it has a vulnerability - their sensor platforms concentrate on searching for power signatures. If we remove the war-head and warp-sustainer from a torpedo casing, we can add stabilization equipment and a 'very' rudimentary life support system. The torpedoes can then be released among a low-lying asteroid ring around the planet. The Hydrans won't be able to distinguish us from the asteroids, and we'll land on the planet without triggering any alarms. Questions thus far?"

Victor raised a hand. "At least three, Colonel. One, does the planet have a record of being struck by a large number of meteorites in concentrated showers at regular intervals? If not, then they'll be scanning us and torpedo casings do not give the same return as rocks. Two, how are we going to deal with the landing part? Without some powerful inertial dampeners and some sort of arresting gear to slow our speed of impact, anyone inside the casing is going to be fithin-berry jam after impact – and those kinds of power systems and arrangements will also set off scans. Three, how are we providing guidance for the casings so that we don't wind up scattered all over the continent? I don't know about everyone else, but if I'm going to have to fight my way across a couple of hundred kilometres of hostile planet to get to the prison, then I'm going to be needing a rescue too."

Max stood near Krieghoff in his 'borrowed' Hazard gear nodding to himself. Despite the fact that Victor caused Max to feel uneasy, and a buzzing to persist in his head, he agreed that there was something definitely wrong with the idea of being para-dropped in flying coffins.

Dhanishta hid a small smile of amusement, despite herself she was really warming up to Krieghoff. She let herself peruse the general consensus of those around her. This was not something she often did, she seldom let herself probe the minds of others, even if it was just surface thoughts, but for some reason of late – it was easier to do, and did not feel wrong. She shrugged to herself and turned her attention back to those around her. Most were apprehensive and unsure. There seemed to be a wave of confusion caused by Victor's astute questions, although that was more likely due to the fact that he made perfect sense and everyone agreed with him, yet still felt compelled to be as far away from him as possible. It was a strange reaction to feel, and while Dhani understood their emotions and uncertainties, as she looked upon Victor, with her eyes and mind, she found she felt nothing. Nothing but amusement, an inner voice laughing to an inside joke that completely escaped Dhanishta. She returned her focus to the Colonel.

"It does. The gap between the ring and the planet's outer atmosphere is just over one-hundred kilometres at its narrowest. We won't have long to wait before we could slip in. All torpedoes have low-level inertial dampners to prevent damage to key systems. Its rated high-enough that we'll make the decent, and its power signature isn't high enough to be detected from planetary early-warning nets designed to detect fighters and enemy starships. And three, the guidance systems will be pre-programmed, just as if they were firing a war shot. The only difference is we won't blow up on impact. A low-level anti-grav generator will allow us to guarantee we land without being splattered, while also keeping our power signatures down. Retro-thrusters, basically an adaptation of the manoeuvring systems already imbedded on the torpedo, will fire at stages to provide stabilization and speed control. We'll have bruises come morning to be sure, but nothing serious." For'kel demonstrated with the holographic representation. "The casings can be adjusted length wise in size, but the smaller they are the better." He could see the reservation in their eyes, and could hardly blame them. "This is fully voluntary. Anyone who wants out now is free to go, no repercussions."

Dhanishta shook her head, he was gonna have to do better than that to inspire hope and faith in his team. Voluntary or not, she was planning to get in *and* get out, alive without injuries, *with* Branwen and, she sighed, Man'darr – but only if Branwen insisted…

"I guess we gotta go sometime, eh?" Max snorted. Then a second later added, "Yeah, I think we're all still in."

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow at that and then turned as Victor spoke, a frown breaking across her face.

Victor considered the plan for a few more seconds. "I'm still in, Colonel, but I've got a few more questions. I assume that you're basing your plan on using Federation torpedo casings, correct? I am unaware of any Hydran equivalent weapons system, since their Hellbores and Fusion Beams provide the same coverage range as out torpedoes and phaser. If that's the case, are we going to be able to mount a federation torpedo array on the Hydran ship and have it interface with the ship's systems? I'm not a Tactical expert, but by my estimate, we'd need at least four rapid-fire or ten standard launchers to get the job done in any amount of time that could be called reasonable."

"Which is why we won't be using torpedo launchers." The Colonel brought up a holographic display of the ship they were on. "We'll be using the carrier's flight deck. The Hydrans have a trio of linear tractor strips along the flight deck to aide with landings. We're going to reverse them, and use them to launch off. Several simulations suggest that we would get an average of six launched a second. Ninety of us will be going; we'll be off the boat in thirty seconds."

Dhanishta raised her hand, she felt slightly out of place amongst so much SFMC green, and she had pretty much invited herself along, so to critic the Colonels plans in front of his men no less, was perhaps, if not very, rude. She was going to have to be diplomatic… humm, Dhanis frown deepened – she was never good at diplomatic… tactful then perhaps…

"Colonel," Dhanishta began pensively, "I'm not sure I follow your line of thinking here," she admitted, "Am I correct in believing that you intend to send your men, us," she corrected gesturing to those present with a sweep of one hand, "onto a Hydran controlled planet inside torpedo tubes?" her voice was edged with disbelief and trace amounts of sarcasm, but only traces – it was primarily disbelief.

"Torpedo casings, Lieutenant." For'kel corrected as gently as he could. "And that is correct."

"So," she continued piecing together his plan, "you're gonna need them stripped out, fitted with guidance systems, or at least recalibrate the ones that are already there. You are going to need an environmental system – though I'd suggest that an EVA suit would save time and space in the tube," she said noting the details down on her padd as she went, "and you most defiantly need extra inertial dampners and a field integrity grid…" she trailed off still thinking this plan was some what… whack?

"Stripped out, yes. The guidance system already on board is more than capable of handling the task we're asking of it. We'll be wearing re-breathers since we're entering a methane atmosphere to begin with, and they're little more than a mask. Heat will be sealed in with us... total flight time to the planet will be 'maybe' a minute, so space exposure won't be an issue. The casings are strong enough, and insulated enough, that we'd be fine. The torpedoes have their own propulsion systems, a structural integrity field won't be necessary because the torpedoes are intended to be strong enough to survive impact. Inertial dampening is the only system we'd really need to alter."

"We *are* going to need some form of power, a generator or something to power the grid, guidance systems, thrusters and the like…?" she half questioned, momentarily unsure of her own knowledge in the face of such certainty exuded by him.

For'kel shook his head. "The torpedo has an onboard battery to power systems while in flight. We won't 'be' in flight long enough to worry about additional power."

Dhani nodded though it was clear that she was still not totally convinced, "How many people can these tubes hold?" she asked.

"One each."

She nodded, "And you believe that the Hydran won't notice that many torpedoes falling from the sky?" she tried to keep her tone civil but the rise intoned the ridiculousness that she could barley contain.

TBC…

"What about a reputation?" part 1

Cadet Paige Sullivan

--

Cafeterias never changed.

Nowhere proved that rule quite like the Galaxy's 10 Forward Lounge. After all, if you couldn't escape cliques and popularity struggles some hundred light years from anywhere even remotely civilized, where could you?

Paige stood there, surveying the area as she held her lunch tray and debating where to sit while she listened to the bridge of 'Shash'ay La'lom Par' [The Grand Atlantian Hydrophone, Self Titled Debut: 2379] as it ran through her earbuds.

This shouldn't be this hard, she thought; after all, she had always believed she'd gotten this down somewhere around junior high. Apparently not.

Of course, for as much as this was a standard cafeteria complete with social orders and norms, the rules to this particular society eluded her. She had to navigate this with the care of a xeno-sociologist dropped on a rare and tropical planet. While she wasn't sure that she wanted to spend any more time on the Galaxy beyond what her cadet cruise allowed, Paige knew she didn't want to take her first 10 Forward meal at the popular table anymore than she wanted to end up next to the guy who ensured the whales were comfortable.

What made it difficult was that she had no idea who any of these people were...

At the Academy, it was easier. There, everyone moved with their specialty and by the second day of orientation week it was pretty clear the role each person would play in the social dramas that would inevitably unfold: the sluts, the know-it-alls, the jocks, the slackers, the heads of the class, the outcasts, the overachievers, the clowns, etc. Many crossed over into the various realms, but there was always one category to which they belonged above all others.

The divisions made life more comfortable, more predictable, more manageable, and Paige was able to go about her day being the off-kilter, slightly strange, and vaguely apathetic self she painstakingly crafted during the whole of her adolescence.

But this was something different.

First of all, this was her job. Her career. And while it wasn't as life and death as, for instance, high school, it was halla important.

Second, this harkened back to trying to navigate the inter-divisional social situations that were so strongly encouraged by the Academy brass. Because while career path choices informed where they lived, where they ate, and the people they interacted with, the brass seemed to take every step they could to encourage 'Fleet-Wide Camaraderie'. This camaraderie, though not fostered by the Academy's basic educational structure, was certainly emphasized by those required classes like the Federation Constitution, Basic Triage, or Starfleet Ethics, not to mention assemblies, socials, and the class formals that took place twice a school year. At least on a sports team or in a club it could be assumed that everyone would have at least something in common, but left on your own in the jungles of the social network...

Anyway, really that was in the past -- this wasn't the Academy, and while it was vaguely relevant in the great scheme of the Fleet social order, the key word was 'vaguely.'

So where to sit?

Paige immediately cut out anyone with more than one gold pip on their collar -- remembering what Victor (ahem, Lieutenant Kreighoff) had said, lieutenants junior grade were about as high ranking as she was prepared to lunch with. This decision eliminated several of the tables. She then cut out anyone with living food on their plates as well as anyone with a dish involve bugs because as enlightened as she tried to be... it just boiled down to 'ew'.

Or boiled down to Tholian Cockroaches. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

Of the three tables left, one was comprised entirely of teal, which meant either counselors or doctors, maybe a combination. This was something that could get shaky depending on the circumstances; they were people better kept as professional acquaintances if only because they had access to far too much potentially embarrassing information.

The second table was entirely of super attractive young couples, the type that shouldn't exist outside a holo-serial. They had their arms draped over one another and giggled, made googly eyes, used statements like 'we think', and ate off each other's plates. Honestly, Paige would probably have better luck keeping her lunch down while sitting next to the bug eaters.

The last table was the proverbial D-list. Or maybe that was too optimistic. They looked like okay enough people, but one of them was on her team in the Clean Room and his monotone voice was incapable of saying anything interesting. He was the type of guy who could make the escapades of swashbuckling space pirates sound less interesting than watching a rock garden.

Paige sighed. Maybe she was better off taking the empty table in the back and pretending she was just too cool and important to be bothered socializing with anyone. But it would inevitably backfire and she would be ranked lower than Ensign Hubert and his D-List friends.

She was definitely putting way too much thought into this.

The *thwap* on her shoulder pulled her out of her head.

"Oya," the other girl said, her expression wide-eyed and slightly annoyed. "Turn down the ear-killer one sec, iye?" Paige pulled the earbuds away, flicking the 'off' with her thumb nail, about to say something to the half-Ktarian cadet with the light brown hair but she was interrupted. "Don't just stand there like a boumis, come sit with us." She jerked her head toward a table where another pair of cadets and an ensign were settling down. "You're Paige Sullivan, right?"

"Yeah," Paige said, frowning slightly, but followed the girl. "You've heard of me?"

"Oh yes. I've heard of you. We all have."

Oh zul.

"What about a reputation" part 2

Cadet Paige Sullivan

w/ Cadet Louthana Hall
Cadet Gwen Lockett
Cadet Kan'G
Ensign Malza Han

--

"Some'a the guys in engineering were talking about you," the other cadet explained. "I'm Louthana Hall, but just call me Lou. I'm an engineer, but don't hold that against me, keppa?"

"Kep," Paige said, reflexively, visibly surprised as she set her tray down on the table and flopping into the chair, focus on Lou. "You Martian?"

"Toro! What, you think-- I'm some iggy or something? Was raised in Argyre. You?"

"Arsia Gardens."

"Ooh, I'm sorry."

"It's not as bad as people say. Just boring."

"That's what I mean," Lou said. "You have to take the Em-Tah if you want to do anything fun."

"You don't have to tell me that," Paige said, eyes widening. "But we kept ourselves busy."

"Not always legally though, iye?"

"It's only bad if you get caught." She looked at the others at the table: two golds and a blue. "Y-a, la -- I'm Paige."

"Zular, sorry -- this is Kan'G," Lou gestured to the Antaran to Paige's left, "Gwen Lockett," the human in blue, "and Malza Han," the Bajoran ensign. "Kan'G is in security, Gwen's a stellar cartographer, and Han's in engineering with me."

"Wait-- Paige. Paige Sullivan? Man, they were talking about you down by the wrap core," Han said, laughing.

Paige made a face, but it didn't conceal the blush. "What were they saying?"

"That Eshe left an ops cadet in charge of a major assignment and how humiliating it was," Lou replied. "They were just pullin' darby, you know? Complaining about nothing. Even they had to admit you did ok."

"And you're still alive, too, so ol' Kreighoff couldn't have been too mad about the results," Kan'G said.

"I don't understand why everyone gives him so much shit behind his back," Paige replied. "So he's a little intense..."

"A little intense?" Gwen asked. "I had to share a turbolift with him and I barely made it one level before I had to bail for the next one."

"Yeah, I heard the reason the captain's still alive is because Kreighoff told him he can't die," Kan'G stated.

"That doesn't mean anything," Lou said. "I told my dog that, didn't stop him from taking the trip."

"Yeah, I don't know about all this Angel of Death stuff either, but the guy totally gives me the eebies," Gwen said, nodding.

"He doesn't really bother me," Paige mumbled, shrugging, stirring her soup, inspecting it carefully before she tried some. It was okay. She probably should have gone ahead and replicated something, but the line was too long. "But I really can't believe Eshe just left me like that. What do I know about running a team? I mean -- I could have seriously barged it. And I understand things come up, but leaving a cadet in charge? I'm supposed to do the stupid menial stuff no one else wants to."

"You can never really tell why Eshe does anything," Han said. "I've been in the department under her for a year now, and all I can tell you is she's a little psychotic and a bit of a hard-ass."

"Not to mention a rouchous heunda," Lou said.

"I don't know what that means," Han said, shaking her head, "but it can't be good and I just don't think she's as awful as she'd want you to believe. But she is totally socially awkward and I think she's just really preoccupied all the time. And super serious, too; it *is* kinda work or death with her, sink or swim. I mean really, it was probably all a test to either show you that you can do it or that you should be kicked out of the program entirely. She's really into the 'this is the real world, cope' philosophy."

"It's frakin' gipe, if you ask me," Lou said. "But it could be worse."

"You know, I'm with Han -- I really don't understand half the things that come out of your mouth," Gwen said, shaking her head and laughing. "If it's not that awful accent, it's the terminologies! What the hell is gipe?"

Paige frowned a moment, looking a Lou. "How would you define 'gipe'?" she asked.

"Erz, uhm. Shit, I guess. Yeah, it's shit."

"And a heunda is like a bitch. But it's worse than bitch, it's a..."

"Bitchy bitch, I guess," Lou said. "Bitch squared."

"We can interpret it in context about half the time," Kan'G said, smirking, "but that doesn't help with the accent."

"You all are the ones who have accents," Lou replied, waving her finger between the other girls.

"Only if we don't use the UT," Kan'G said, "and even then -- my Standard's pretty darn good."

"And I grew up speaking Standard. In Ohio. We don't have accents in Ohio," Gwen replied.

"You have a Terrie accent, Gwen," Lou said.

"And so does the UT," Paige replied. "It's all about earth, all the time. Earth Standard, earth time, earth everything."

"Oh man, no," Gwen said, shaking her head, "we're not getting into this. I don't wanna hear any more Seganide philosophy, okay? I get enough living with her." She gestured at Lou. "I swear. A half Ktarian Martian as *my* roommate. The person in charge of assignments has a sick sense of humor."

"And I say I'm the one with the sort end of the stick -- a blonde, ballet-dancing stellar cartographer from Ohio as *my* roommate?" Lou asked, grinning, laughing as she kicked Gwen under the table.

"It's Gary Jenkins," Paige said.

"What's a Gary Jenkins?" Kan'G asked.

"The guy in Ops responsible for assigning quarters."

"Whoa. I didn't even know Ops did that," Gwen said.

"Yeah. I don't know why, I guess we lost a bet or something. But you think Kreighoff is scary? Gary Jenkins is going to wazzie and blow the whole ship to smithereens one of these days. I totally steer clear." Paige tore another piece of bread and dipped it in the soup.

"So Paige, how come we didn't see you at orientation?" Gwen asked.

"I missed it," she said, shrugging. "I came aboard late. It was just one of those weird things." Paige didn't want to explain that she'd been on the wait list and was originally going to be cruising on Starbase 01. Normally, she didn't care about what people thought about her record, but she found she wasn't read for these girls to know about her general career apathy.

"Did you come on at DS4?"

"Yeah, only a couple hours before we pushed off," Paige said, nodding.

"What've you been doing?"

"Trying to keep Lieutenant Micro-Manage from killing me," she replied, making a face. "He really doesn't like me at all."

"They're not supposed to," Gwen replied. "I mean. How're you supposed to learn if you don't get the worst possible jobs assigned to you with the instructions yelled at you as though you're five years old. And how're they supposed to know you're not destroying the ship if you don't report back to them every fifteen seconds with updates."

"It really makes me feel crazy," Kan'G said, brushing back jet-black hair.

"Why?" Lou asked.

"What do you mean?" Paige questioned.

"Why would it make you feel crazy? I don't understand. We're getting the most possible credit for doing the least possible work. You know? We're on the Galaxy, a ship of the line, one of the more prominent ships in the entire fleet. Consequently, you know -- we're seen as the Top of the Top, we'll have the pick of assignment when we graduate. But at the same time, there's so much at stake that only the most basic thing is expected of us. It's bomi, la," Lou said, wide-eyed and grinning.

"Speak for yourself," Kan'G said, "I want to do things. I want to learn. I don't want to just sit here and pretend I'm an idiot who can't be trusted to do anything. I want to be Chief one day, you know? That's why I busted my butt to get this assignment."

"So what's the secret?" Gwen asked, looking at Paige.

"For what?"

"Getting responsibility."

"What're you asking me for?" she asked. "Han's the one who's an Ensign on the ship, she's been through this and survived with her commission."

"Yeah. Right," Han said. "I have no secret. I was quiet, did my work, said nothing, and was a good Bajoran girl, that's all." She was eating her salad. "So. Don't rock the boat."

"Paige?" Gwen said, looking at her.

"Aw, zular, I don't know," she said, "I volunteered and didn't frak it up. And now, good-bye easy street." She sighed. "Hello responsibility. And it's only been some ten days? Now there's all this pressure. And I only do that one thing even remotely okay. One trick, I'm done. I don't know what I'm going to do if they want me to do something else."

"See. This is what I'm saying," Lou said, shaking her head, rubbing one of the small horns above her nose. "Set the bar of expectations low."

"How're you ever going to create a career out of that?" Gwen asked.

"I'm not like Kan'G, over there -- I don't want to be Chief. I just want to see things. Do my job. Have a family. And live to retirement. This is my plan."

"Karz, Shullah, sounds a bomi plan to me," Paige said, raising her glass toward Lou, who grinned.

"Ugh," Gwen muttered, looking at the others. "Martians."

~The Axon~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Lt. Thyago Carneiro
Lt. Jg T'Pei
Ens. Relsta

"This does not appear to be a fetal chamber," Cutter said, his voice scratchy and choppy as it was electronically transmitted over the intercomm.

"No," T'Pei agreed flatly.

Cutter turned his head, his view becoming obscured by the bulky EVA helmet he wore, and peered at T'Pei through the cloudy fluid that filled the space between them. She must be in heaven, he thought, or she would have been, were she not Vulcan. They were essentially scuba diving in the innards of a giant alien biological organism - two of her favorite things, mashed together like phlegm and saliva, coughed up and ejected onto the ground before him.

He had never been able to understand her fascination; he hated biology, and he hated water. It was fortunate that she was Vulcan and so never felt the need to proselytize for her interests, or they would never have worked together as amicably as they had in the Academy. It was also fortunate that she was Vulcan and so did not feel the need to unnecessarily and awkwardly socialize at their unexpected reuniting as they both walked into the transporter room only moments ago. In fact, their conversation had been precisely the following:

"T'Pei?"

"Cutter," she had greeted with a nod from within her EVA suit.

"I didn't know you were posted here."

"I am."

"Oh," he had acknowledged, and that had been that.

But now, her terseness was mildly annoying, as she was clearly forcing him to voice the obvious question. "Do you happen to know where we are?" Cutter asked.

"Beyond not being where we planned to be, no," she replied. With that, she finned just beyond the Fruna'lin, shining her light down the corridor. They were in a passageway, a very narrow one for a creature the size of a Starbeast. "Perhaps this is an artery or vein of some sort. I wouldn't recommend touching that, Lieutenant." Behind Cutter, Thyago, who, for some reason, was floating upside-down, was poking the wall with a gloved finger.

"Por que? It's a wall. A very squishy wall. Why does it look like its made of bricks?" He asked as he pushed away from the wall.

"That's amazing" Relsta chimed in, reading from her scanner. "I think these are individual endothelial cells."

T'Pei blinked as Thyago slowly floated backwards until he bumped into the other side of the corridor (which seemed to startle him a bit), and then returned her attention to the enormous patchwork-like pattern on the wall. "Fascinating," she murmured.

Cutter grumbled. "Hmm, yes, giant cells inside a giant organism. Truly, an unexpected discovery. Can we go find the fetus now?"

"Indeed." T'Pei managed to look slightly chagrined. "If it was the interference from the nebula that has caused the transporter error, we are probably not far from our intended location. The fetus is most likely deeper within to receive the most protection from the body. Our scanners should be able to--Lieutenant?"

Thyago, upright once more, was heading off down the corridor. "There are only two ways we can go, sacou? One of them is right." He was almost out of the range of their lights at this point. Relsta tried to shrug in her EVA suit, failing miserably. "He has a point. It's not half bad logic," she pointedly said to T'Pei, heading off behind the engineer.

Already far behind Thyago, T'Pei decided to follow rather than debate. She kicked off after the other two, with Cutter behind her.

"Please, tell me you know where we're going," Cutter said, struggling to swim through the stagnant muck. He wished he was able to use his wings, but they were bound together in a special attachment on the back of his suit, completely immobile. Swimming, unlike for the three humanoids with him, was not part of his natural skill set.

"As this creature is dead, we have no clues from the direction of blood flow." T'Pei paused to consider her old acquaintance seriously for the first time since they had met two hours before. He looked incredibly uncomfortable; these were probably the most miserable conditions he could find himself in--floating, but unable to fly. "Cutter. Keep your arms still, they will not help you here. Just use your legs, it might make directing your movements easier"

"Use my legs how, exactly?" he snapped.

"Stay flat, and bend your knees up so they are about 120 degrees from your body. Turn your ankles up and and rotate your legs from the knees. It is the most efficient way to kick and will keep you from tiring."

He grumbled under his breath. In flight, his legs were used provide vertical torque. He was not used to kicking for the sake of propulsion. "You have no internal mapping of the creature?" he asked, "You didn't think to scan it before we transported?"

"On the contrary, Lieutenant Shivar and I took many scans of all three creatures, both from the ship and with a modified probe. The intense electromagnetic interference from the nebula makes it difficult to get scans of the detail necessary to be useful in this particular situation, however. If I am right and we are near the fetus, this artery no doubt feeds into the chamber. However, as the Lieutenant pointed out, there are two directions we can take, and no way for us to ascertain which one is correct, without...guessing."

T'Pei shined her light ahead, looking for Relsta and Thyago. Cutter was moving with somewhat more grace than before, but he was still slow. They were going to be separated from the other two. "Cutter, we appear to be out of contact with Ensign Relsta and Lieutenant Carneiro. I am going to go ahead slightly and attempt to contact them, and then return to join you."

"Fine," was the response.

After kicking about 20 meters ahead, she hovered and peered ahead into the dark corridor, but all she could see was another wall of diamond-shaped cells. "Cutter," she said. "There is a corner here. When I turn it, we may lose our communications signal. Do you read?"

Silence. They were already out of range. T'Pei paused indecisively. She was not entirely convinced that leaving Cutter alone was the logical choice. Even if he was far more level headed than Thyago, and even Relsta, and was unlikely to panic, being alone with little light and no verbal communication...she drifted towards the corner, knowing she needed to decide quickly.

Her comm crackled as she got to the corner "--Thyago! Move! It's co---" Relsta's voice faded into the static again. That made her decision. Returning for Cutter would only delay her reaching the others, and he would be of no use in any situation requiring fast movement.

There was no longer a need for her light. There was far too much, in fact, and T'Pei raised her arm to block her face. As her eyes acclimated, crackling electrical discharge came into focus ahead of her. Relsta was not within her line of sight, but Thyago was trapped between two tendrils of the moving light, one of which was moving towards him. Quickly. She was too far away to make a difference, but perhaps their comm links were functional here. "It's attracted to the metal on the EVA suit," she yelled.

"Yeah, I know!" Thyago exclaimed as he kicked up and off from the wall of the large chamber. "What exactly am I supposed to do, take it off?" The arc of electricity continued along its path until it struck the spot where the human had previously been. Then, it sputtered and sparked, and ultimately disappeared. The room was dark for a moment, save for the piercing white LED light from their EVA helmets, until another bolt of electricity generated on the other side, and quickly slithered its way towards him once more, emanating from a large, spindly, bulbous neural column that jutted down from the ceiling.

"Get rid of your light," T'Pei called, kicking backwards away from the appearing and disappearing arcs that careened around the engineer. "Throw it the other direction, and perhaps that will give you enough time. Head straight for me."

He reached up and pulled at the light on his helmet, but it was fastened too securely for his bulky, gloved, panicky fingers to detach. Eventually, as the electricity danced closer and closer towards him, he gave up, and kicked his leg up, which rotated his body in the opposite direction, just underneath the passing current. "Caralho," he cursed over the open comm and began to swim towards the Vulcan.

She grabbed Thyago as he reached her, using his momentum to propel them back towards the corner, and hopefully, Cutter. As they slowed and hit the wall, she uncharacteristically grabbed him and yelled "Where is Ensign Relsta, Lieutenant?"
But, she was answered with only static. With two metal-lined conducting suits now right next to each other, all the electrical discharges were zigzaging their way towards them. Realizing what was happening, Thyago shoved her away and began to swim back out into the chamber, allowing the arcs to split back up.

Splitting them up wouldn't be enough, T'Pei realized. Thyago had pushed her into the center of the chamber, and with no wall to push off of, her current trajectory would directly intercept one of the approaching energy arcs. It was a long shot, but she thrust her right leg out and kicked hard, hoping to change her angle and somersault over the electricity, as Thyago had done.

Suddenly, a different ray of energy flashed across the room, one of red-orange plasma instead of blue-white lightning. It shot through the clear fluid from behind T'Pei and struck the branching bulb. The discharges vanished for a moment, and the beam subsided, and once again, the room was dark. But not still. T'Pei could feel the soft, rumbling vibrations ripple through the fluidic space and shake her in place. An instant later, the room erupted back into light as the neural stalactite exploded, unleashing a wave of white, ionic light that washed over the room and caused her comm to squeal. But, then the wave dissipated, and all that was left were their helmet lights, shining through the now red, muddied goo, reflecting off pink-gray bits of floating flesh.

She turned to see Cutter floating at the arterial aperture, a small phaser in hand.

"That was...excellent timing, Lieutenant."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Surprise Surprise, Part 1"

Borg Bane(Val)
Super Secret Squirrel in Training (Aina Mason)
Cmdr Jaal "Needs-A-Good-Nickname" Jaxom

=USS Galaxy=

For the most part Valentina had kept to the intelligence center. Saul had entered the complex much later than usual for an Alert situation, especailly given the fact that this was a 'premeditated' alert, as opposed to the random grumblings the Multiverse threw Starfleet's way.

She'd made a mental note to take a look into things, but such would have to wait till after the battle. Now it would have to wait even longer. There were several hulks of Hydran ships remaining in the nebula and teams were being dispatched to each to see what could be salvaged from each. Valentina had been assigned to one such team.

=====

Aina rushed to get to Shuttle Bay 3. She had been only a deck above when she had gotten the word that she had been assigned to the team to investigate one of the hulks - now, she had to rush up to her room and grab her computer intrusion gear. She was excited as this was what she was assigned to do, investigate the systems of races hostile to the Federation to find out ways to wage the war not only physically but on the cyberfront. Grabbing the backpack and hoisting a single strap on her shoulder and started out, it felt wrong. Spinning it around in front of her, she opened the magnetic zips and looked in and noticed that one of her modified padds had gone missing. Her brain rushing with the excitement, she spent time looking around her whole half of her quarters as her room mate Marsha Deans, looked on with some bemusement.

"Aina?" she started.

Aina was busy looking for the padd, with out it...she started to panic a little bit. She needed it to access some highly secret data that shouldn't have been easily accessable, but always having to get permission from the LCARS was a right pain. Now that it was lost...

"Aina!" Marsha called out.

Aina turned, "Sorry Marsha, a little busy - have you seen one of my padds. I thought I had left it on my dresser, but..."

A manicured nail indicated a padd on it's side, on the ground leaning on the side of the dresser, "Is that it?" Marsha asked.

Aina followed where Marsha was pointing, "That's where it is!" With a sigh she reached over and picked it up.

"What's got you in such a tizz?" asked Marsha as Aina headed to the doorway. The door slid open as Aina talk a step into the doorway talking over her shoulder, "I've been assigned to one of the teams investigating the hulks - woo hoo. Hopefully it will have one of the Hydrans new Shuzzbat multi-node trinary control systems. Starfleet has never seen one of them, if I could...wow! Only got a few minutes to get there." Marsha's eyes started to glaze over as soon as Aina started speaking about the computers on the ship, she just nodded as she watched Aina head out.

Finally arriving to Shuttlebay 3, she noticed that only Valentina had arrived and had begun the preparation of the small shuttle.

=====

Jaal had snuck in the door behind Aina. He was grateful for her presence not only as someone he already knew, but because of her proven skills with all things involving data. As far as the rest of the away team, he didn't really 'know' anyone. 'Now is as good a time as any,' he thought causally following Aina to the shuttle.

"I'm here Valentina," called Aina out as Val carried a box into the shuttle. Feeling a presence behind her, she turned and smiled as she recognised Jaal, "Hello Commander."

"Fancy meeting you here," Jaal replied good naturedly, "If I didn't know better I'd swear you were following me around."

"But you are behind me, Commander," observed Aina.

"So? Didn't you take the 'following-people-by-being-ahead-of-them' class at the Academy?" Jaal smirked.

Val nodded to the commander, "The shuttle is prepped and it's just the three of us. Lieutenant Kreighof has been re-tasked with other duties, Sir."

"All right then, if it's just us, let's get the show on the road," the Trill commander headed for the shuttle's cockpit.

As the trill made his way forward, Val discreetly pulled Aina to the side, where it would be just the two of them. "While we may operate on a first name basis at times in the CIC, you would do well to remember proper courtesies and forms of address still apply outside that complex." She made sure her tone wasn't condescending or belittling in any way - this was just a reminder - another reason Val had chosen not to correct Aina in front of Commander Jaxom. It was obvious she held great respect for the man.

Aina nodded, "Yes Ma'am. I understand." Internally Aina winced, it had taken a few weeks for her to feel comfortable in using Saul and Val's first names in CIC. Now outside, she'd forgotten protocol, because now she had considered it normal to call Val by her first name. In the CIC, rank was left at the doorway. "Sorry. It won't happen again," she finished off.

=====

A little while later...

The shuttle was floating next to the huge hulk of the Hydran vessel, all on-board were in light EVA as the rear of the shuttle had been opened to allow access to the cargo bay. The glow from Aina's helmet illuminated the padd she was holding: some wires ran from the PADD body and attached to the probes that was connected into a small panel in the Hydran Ship's hull.

She was looking at the padd with some concern, it had been about five minutes since they arrived and she'd had expected to have the cargo door security bypassed and open in a couple of minutes. This was a bit of a problem; any security system worth its salt would have noticed the attempt of an intrusion. And Aina was worried about any surviving Hydrans being on the other side of the door. Val, for her part, kept quiet. This was Aina's department. While the cyborg could have ripped the doors open, everyone wanted them as intact as possible.

Jaal watched silently figuring the doors may be damaged. He didn't say anything to the cadet because he wanted her to find out for herself. Things like this made great learning opportunities.

The padd display glowed a brief yellow for a split second and the cargo bay doors in the hulk slowly opened. Wafts of green vapour with papers and other debris accelerated out of the bay into space and into the shuttle. Almost dodging a light cardboard box from hitting her in the helmet, Aina removed the probes into the panel, "It took a little longer than I expected, sorry."

Val patted Aina's suited shoulder. "Don't worry, I doubt Data could have done any better." An exaggeration, perhaps, but she did believe Aina was better than she gave herself credit for. "Let's see what this easter egg you've opened for us has in store."

As the team entered the cargo bay, Aina saw the reason why she had some trouble, the internal doors to the cargo bay airlock had been damaged and now the cargo bay was open into space. They'd have to get the external doors closed before they moved deeper into the ship. That wouldn't be much of an issue as the ship's own safety systems would be helping them, as opposed to before, where it was stopping them.

Jaal found a control panel near the door that, presumably, led to the interior of the ship. Had he not been wearing an EVA suit he would have been scratching his head. The buttons all looked the same. Perhaps Hydrans perceived colors differently than other species. He touched one on a pot-shot guess thinking the worse that could happen would a door would open or close.

To his pleasant surprise, the external doors hummed closed. 'Not bad,' he thought. "We should probably keep the suits on. We already know we can't breathe their atmosphere, plus, we don't know if any other sections of the ship are open to space."

TBC...

"Surprise Surprise Part 2"

Borg Bane(Val)
Super Secret Squirrel in Training (Aina Mason)
Cmdr Jaal "Needs-A-Good-Nickname" Jaxom

==On The Hydran Hulk....==

Jaal found a control panel near the door that, presumably, led to the interior of the ship. Had he not been wearing an EVA suit he would have been scratching his head. The buttons all looked the same. Perhaps Hydrans perceived colors differently than other species. He touched one on a pot-shot guess thinking the worse that could happen would a door would open or close.

To his pleasant surprise, the external doors hummed closed. 'Not bad,' he thought. "We should probably keep the suits on. We already know we can't breathe their atmosphere, plus, we don't know if any other sections of the ship are open to space."

Val nodded, and upon noting the 'blind guess' executed by their fearless leader, she started going through her vision modes as she looked around. Visual Light wasn't helpfull, but both IR ah UV showed marked differences between the various controls as opposed to their bland visual exteriors. She left her vision in a fusion between the
two visual references and started examining the interior controls. "Anyone have any information on Hydran printed language?" "I ought to have something on the PADD I brought with me," Jaal replied. "I would have tried to use it but there were no printed instructions on the access panel for the door." He was already shining the built-in
flashlight on the arm of his EVA suit into the corridor beyond the door.

"Well, unfortunately they see in a somewhat different spectrum," Val said. "I'm having to maintain a mix of visual light, IR, and UV. Makes for some extremely interesting scenery, if you ask me."

Aina was rummaging through her backpack, she hadn't heard the interchange between Val and Jaal, with a look of triumph on her face, she looked up at the two other officers, "Here it is...I knew I had it somewhere. Aina held up a bright pink ODN rod, "Lexicographic generator - it's already got a version of the Hydran library, but it's
a bit buggy. I'm worried that when I read a data access port it would really be a power point."

"I'm sure we can tell data access ports from power points," Jaal told her confidently. "Let's see if we can find data port and tap in. We need to scour for as much information as we can."

"If we head to the centre of the ship, we might be able to find one of the major data buses and link into the system from a sub-processing node. I might be able to get an network map for the ship and if we can get access to an engineering sub-node we could find out where they've got it hidden. But, uhhh...anyone know where the Hydrans would have them in this hulk?" Aina asked.

"Based off of SCE surveyes of the wrecks left over from ch'Rihan, I believe we are just foreward of the hydran's idea for main engineering," Val said. "As far as a computer core goes, I believe the big hole in the dursal plating a few hundred meters forewards lies where the main core SHOULD be."

"I'm sure they run with a back-up somewhere, don't they?" Jaal reasoned, "It's that or head to the bridge I suppose."

"Let's try Main Engineering," Val said. "At the least there will be something similar to our MSD's down there, and if we're lucky we'll find one of those data notes Mason's praying to the Prophets to find." The cyborg winked at the other woman.

"Yeah, that be good," responded Aina as they moved through the corridor. "And it's not to the Prophets that I'm praying to...if I was praying," added Aina.

"Oh?" While they had worked on a number of things, and discussed a small variety of subjects in the CIC, religious preferences hadn't been one of them.

"I don't follow the religion on Bajor, I...oh God." Aina paused as the corridor that they turned down showed a number of dead Hydrans and the carnage and debris in the corridor. Aina was not expert, but it looked like that a major EPS conduit that was under the floor had ruptured and released plasma and the like had filled the corridor.
The sight of the bodies, some burnt, some dismembered had her stomach threaten to return her lunch that she had eaten. While Aina had been in a number of battles, she'd had been apart from the realities of the injured and the dead - her station was usually in the main computer core, deep inside a ship, away from the potential of seeing such carnage.

She spun around her eyes closed, her concentration in keeping her lunch in her stomach, so she didn't see the gruesome sight.

Valentina was more ... conditioned ... to the sight of such gore. She recognized Aina's reaction but lacked the mentoring skills to help. So Val looked to Jaal, a bit of a helpless look on her face. She could walk through the battlefields of the ages and not blink an eye as the wanton slaughter that covered every last scrap of ground, but helping someone else deal with it was .. currently beyond her capabilities.

Jaal put a firm hand on Aina's shoulder. "Just keep walking, don't look down, and try not to step on anything... Did I ever tell you about the first time I came across a scene like this?"

Aina shook her head, her voice strained, "No Commander..."

"I puked my guts out. It wasn't pretty," Jaal deadpanned, "so don't feel bad about feeling sick but remember, we still have a job to do."

Finally, her stomach had decided to surrender in the battle and Aina began to relax, the taste of bile was in the back of her throat. She made a gutteral cough, trying to dislodge the bile from her throat.

"That, and if you puke your guts out right now, you'll have to deal with it until you get back to the shuttle and shed your EV suit," Val quipped. "Not to mention it's hard to see through a clouded helmet visor"

"Excellent point," Jaal added.

What started as a hoarse whisper that cleared up while she was speaking, "I'm ok." She 'hrrrumph'd' again to clear her throat and looked at the two senior officers - "I'll be ok," she repeated.

"Of course you will," Jaal gave her another confident pat on the back.

Aina just gave a nod as her reply, her hand went up to wipe away some sweat on her forehead and she was a little surprised as her gloved hand clunked against the visor in the helmet, she criticised herself for being that stupid. Her voice with less of the enthusiasm that she had only minutes before, "We better get to engineering. Does anybody know if any Hydran survivors are on this ship?"

Jaal already had his tricorder out and scanning the corridor ahead of them. "I'm not picking up any other life than us three... but that doesn't mean there aren't any survivors." He looked back at the two women, "We'll have to be careful as usual."

Val nodded, taking the point as she could see better through the hydran atmosphere than the other two. Heading aft from their entry point they pushed on towards Engineering, having to double back and find different paths on more than one occasion due to blockages and sealed doors. Finally their destination lay before them, just behind a heavy pressure door, which conveniently doubled as a physical barrier to intruders. "Any life readings Sir?" She glanced back towards Jaal, the trill's tricorder was busy seeking out the information her eyes couldn't detect. That was the nice thing about Tricorders: they were active scanners, where as her eyes were passive only.

Aina was watching the shifting numbers on her display, the main doors to main engineering had gone into lock down, while Jaal was making sure of no surprises on the other side of the door, Aina was just trying to get the door open. She was sure that there was no-one alive on the other side. On a starship, or a Federation ship at least, if
there were any survivors, the doors would allow access to attend any injuries. 'But then this is a Hydran ship,' Aina reminded herself.

Commander Jaxom's tricorder began to indicate it detected something out of the ordinary...WAY out of the ordinary. "I've got a contact... It's not Hyran..." Jaal scrutinized the readout. "In fact, it's not anything I've ever seen before." He looked up at the other two members of his team, "and it might have something to do with there being no gravity in the engineering section.

Finally, with a tap of the display, the code on Aina's display changed and disappeared, other code started scrolling up on the small padd as the doors to engineering slid open.

Stepping across the threshold, loosing all weight, the three members of Starfleet looked into the darken section. As they slowly floated, Jaal's tricorder beeped.

Jaal looked down at a scan of the area that was completed and the strange reading has been resolved. There was a breakdown of materials, mass but the main thing that interested the commander was that it was floating only ten meters up, in the area of the main antimatter reaction chamber.

The Trill looked up stunned from disbelief...

"Whooooaaaaaaaaa....."

TBC...

"Status Check" Part 1

Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara
Master Chief Madden Jayce

----

Madden had a headache.

This wasn't particularly surprising. The tension on the ship was insane: the captain was down at the hands of one of the senior officers, several dozen crew members were injured or dead from the battle, the ship was once again in need of repair, and they were going back into the nebula to examine the star beasts. With all that going on, anyone would get a headache, but if you factored in the telepathic noise flying around rampant, untempered, unnoticed by most except on the most basic of levels...

And if the emotional angst radiating off the crew wasn't enough, the screeching thoughts emanating from the Hydran POWs housed in several of the cargo bays made Madden want to yank out her paracortex and stomp it into a pulp on the carpet.

She closed her eyes and rubbed at the space just above her brow line as the turbolift pulled her up toward the bridge. She'd spent the last two hours in the enlisted crew's mess hall, listening to her people and trying to control the scuttle that was rapidly spiralling out of control. Everyone wanted to know if it was mutiny or a Hydran
plot or if it was true that the captain hadn't actually been the captain in which case shouldn't the Gorn be treated like a hero and gosh-darn-it we knew it all along.

It was all Madden could do to keep herself sane through the questions.

She knew what happened on the bridge. She knew because she was a P11 telepath. She knew because the bridge crew was so traumatised by it they were telepathically transmitting the events to anyone able to pick it up out of the ether. She knew because she might as well have been there, watching it happen.

But at the same time... none of this was anything she could reveal, not to her people, not to anyone, because when it all went down, she was deep in the bowels of the Galaxy, caught between nothing and a raiding party. She had the medical records to prove it: a shoulder injury and the still baby-pink newly-regenerated skin that had extended from her wrist to elbow.

Madden opened her eyes when the doors whooshed open, revealing the bridge that was all but back in its original condition. The carpeting had been ripped up, several bulkheads restored, even the far edge of the tactical arch had to be replaced. There were still some darkened panels, and if you looked closely in the crevices and edges of the bridge you might be able to find small, shattered and blackened remnants of displays that had shorted or exploded in the battle and ensuing chaos brought by a thrashing Gorn.

The ghosts of the experience lingered; the psychic impression within the space would last for weeks, maybe even months -- longer if the captain died. Some piece of his psychic energy would doubtlessly return there.

The chief of the boat nodded at one of the lieutenants working on a panel near the captain's ready room, and she depressed the call pad. The XO's voice responded and the master chief stepped in.

"Commander," she said, with a curt nod. "We're going back into the nebula?"

The doors closed behind her.

Iniara nodded once, slowly, then spoke, "We are. Command has decided that a trio of dead starbeasts is too great of an opportunity to pass up. We're going to see if we can find out what makes them tick...and hopefully find an efficient way to make them stop ticking."

The XO paused, regarding the other woman for a moment. She couldn't tell if that was the real reason for the CoB's visit, or if there was something else going on. Damned psi suppressors, she thought with a mental frown; so convenient and yet occasionally frustrating.

Well, there was one way to see if she could find out what was really going on... keep her here, see what happens. "Have a seat, Master Chief. Can I get you anything?" Iniara asked, holding up a half-full mug of tea, the amber liquid still a bit steamy.

Madden paused a moment as she sat, considering this; she'd already consumed several cups of coffee, was quickly approaching her limit. So as appetizing as that sounded...

"Please," she said, nodding. "Trill spice tea, doesn't matter which flavor."

She watched the 'commander move to the replicator and back, then accepted the tea with both hands, blowing on the steaming liquid as Tarin settled back behind the desk.

"It's been a long time," Madden stated, clearing her throat, "since I've been on a ship that's had its captain incapacitated." She sipped her tea, letting the words drift around them; her tone was gentle, almost classic Betazoid: quiet, practiced, almost ethereal. Her gaze was settled on the liquid in her cup. "Everyone's nervous; the entire ship is on edge. And we're going to go back into hostile territory..." The CoB settled back into her chair, her back carefully easing into the plush, reluctant to relax too fully too quickly. "I wonder sometimes, about our commanding officers. Of course, you can't do that too often or too loudly, especially below decks."

The CoB's attention then raised, eyes fixing on the lieutenant commander in front of her. It was strange -- Madden had become accustomed to the officers being younger than she was, but Tarin Iniara had almost ten years on her. The Galaxy's XO deserved to be in her place, she'd put in the time, she had the experience, and yet there was reservation. There was a sense to her that she was there simply because there wasn't anyone else.

"How are you doing?" Madden questioned. "You were reluctant to take the position and now you're in the big chair..."

For a long moment Iniara sipped on her own tea, wondering just how she should answer that. On the one hand, it was surprising that Madden had so easily picked up on something Iniara had thought she'd managed to hide well. Her natural reaction was to try and downplay that, to give the other woman some level of reassurance that the ship wasn't being led by someone who, less than five years ago, would have laughed at anyone who'd told her that someday she'd be in command of a starship.

But on the other hand, if Madden could so easily pick up on that, either it meant that Iniara was doing a less than stellar job of looking like she actually knew what she was doing, or that Madden was a much stronger telepath than Iniara had initially thought. To Iniara, the CoB had never read as anything stronger than pure middle of the road... But now that she thought about it, she'd been dosing herself with ever-increasing amounts of betasynine almost as long as CMC Jayce had been on board, slowly stuffing her head with as much mental gauze as she could until she could barely 'hear' anything any more. Nowadays, Iniara wasn't sure if she could trust her perceptions...so it could go either way.

In which case...if the CoB really was stronger than she was letting on... there would be no point in trying to lie about or downplay how she felt about being in the big chair; Jayce would see right through it.

Or maybe Iniara was way over-thinking the situation... way, way over-thinking...

The XO looked down into her own mug, as if the amber liquid somehow held all the answers to all of her deepest questions. Vulcans claimed that mahna tea gave superior clarity of mind; maybe the tea did hold all the answers...or at least the way to get to them...

Iniara looked back at the Master Chief, suddenly aware that she'd let the silence stretch on a bit too long.

"I go where I am needed," she replied at last, her words of carefully measured length. It wasn't the best answer, but it was honestly how she felt about it. "Starfleet training has provided me with the means to handle such situations, and while I can't say this is where I truly belong," here she swept a hand outwards to indicate the confines of the room, "while I am here, I'll serve this ship and her crew to the best of my abilities."

Madden smirked, shaking her head slightly.

"Those words don't actually answer even a small piece of my question," she said. "But of course, you know that."

Madden weighed the pause, debating on where she wanted to take the conversation. There were any number of directions: she could test for the official word on what happened on the bridge, could delve into the realities of their mission back to the Star Beasts' nebula, or she could continue to probe the XO herself, maybe get some answers about the woman -- though that line was risky.

The master chief was about to speak, but paused before she could get out a word, physically wincing, unable to help the visceral reaction to the animalistic scream that tore through her mind -- the Hydrans, most likely, or maybe something else altogether. Maybe even the Star Beasts themselves; they had to be getting close by now. But she said nothing of that, just pushed it aside as though it was nothing, and looked to the XO.

"So... again. How are you doing?" Madden raised an eyebrow. "What with the events that have brought you here."

Iniara thought about that for a second, wondering just what the Master Chief wanted to get at. "'Here' being this chair and the situation we now find ourselves in... or just 'here' in general?"

"Primarily the former, I suppose. The latter would probably take too long to go through."

"Fair enough." Iniara exhaled softly, looking down into what little remained of her tea. No, she thought with a mental sigh, still no answers there. "To be honest, I'd be lying my face off if I said sitting in this chair didn't make me nervous. Uncertain. Frightened, even."

She downed the rest of the tea and set the mug down before looking back up, finally meeting the other woman's eyes. "The first night after it happened, I didn't sleep a single minute. I sat in my quarters for the entire night, just staring out the window, thinking over and over to myself, 'There's no way I can do this, there's no way
I can do this'.

"But at some point in the early morning of the next day, I realized something. Being the CO of a starship; Prophets, just plain serving in Starfleet, it's much bigger than just me, or you, or anyone. It didn't matter whether or not I felt like I deserved to be in command, or whether I felt like I'd succeed or fail, or whether I felt like I was going to throw up every time I sat in that center chair and realized that, for the moment, there was nobody to fall back on. All that mattered was that I had a duty to perform, and that thousands of people on this ship were counting on me to do that duty. And so when Alpha Shift came around the next morning, I stood up, walked out of my quarters, and did that duty."

Iniara paused for a moment. "Each day after that has been easier than the last. So, if you want to know how I'm doing..." She shrugged slightly. "I'm not that bad. Not saying I want to sit in this chair for the rest of my life, but for the time being, I'm not that bad."

See -- that wasn't so hard, Madden thought as she nodded.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I think you're handling it very well."

"Thank you," Iniara replied quietly. "That's good to hear."

Madden stood, was about to excuse herself, but she hesitated a moment, frowning, biting her lower lip as she debated, holding the tea cup in her hands.

Truth was, there was a small handful of people onboard the Galaxy who Madden kept track of, who she monitored; two of them had the possibility of being unimaginably dangerous to others, while the remainder could, potentially, each reach a point where they needed some serious help. Iniara fell into the latter category; her difficulty managing her telepathy without medication, her reluctance to acknowledge a part of herself, her sheer strength of mind...

She didn't have to reveal everything, Madden thought. She could keep herself safe and maybe discover when Iniara really was with everything -- beyond what her thoughts suggested.

"How... forgive me, 'commander... but how are the dreams treating you?" Madden studied the other woman's reaction. "They still come, don't they? Even with your body coursing with the inhibitors, they're still there. Sometimes, it's probably hard to tell if you're awake or asleep anymore. Isn't it?"

TBC

"Status Check" Part 2

Lt. Commander Tarin Iniara
Master Chief Madden Jayce

----

"How... forgive me, 'commander... but how are the dreams treating you?" Madden studied the other woman's reaction. "They still come, don't they? Even with your body coursing with the inhibitors, they're still there. Sometimes, it's probably hard to tell if you're awake or asleep anymore. Isn't it?"

The surprise on Iniara's face was obvious, though she tried to hide it. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she thought about the question, then pondered how best to answer it. When she finally spoke, her words had a cold, almost clinical edge to them.

"The inhibitors keep me from being some sort of freakish metaconscious transceiver. It's what they're meant to do. My dreams are... my own. Nobody else's." And even when that wasn't completely true, even when the memories of events and lives she'd never lived came back to dance and play in her dreams, it was still her problem to deal with. "Nobody else's," she repeated.

"Of course," Madden replied, nodding as her face pulled into a tight expression that resembled something like a grimace. "I don't know how you do it, honestly. With the inhibitors... the very idea."

Madden tried to keep the distaste out of her voice, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded. She tried to remind herself that everyone needed to make their own choices, and that everyone had to do what was best for them. They each had to work within their own abilities, exactly what OPRED (the Organization for Psionic Research, Education and Development, which was responsible for telepathic policy and policing throughout the Federation) strove to teach.

"Inhibitors terrify me. I think doctors... and OPRED... they're too quick to push them. Too quick to give up on the training. It's not right."

"But if you had to make the choice, which would you choose: losing control; losing reason, logic, sanity, or maybe even your life in the process; or leading some semblance of a normal life with the help of drugs? Which terrifies you more...the unending silence, or unending noise? You see..." Iniara paused, collecting her thoughts. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but... You see, I didn't make the
choice. The Dithparu made it for me. When the dozen or so that went tap dancing through my skull were done I realized I had two choices: either I could fight a losing battle against my mind, or I could get some help.

"They're a necessary evil, those inhibitors, and I'd be lying if I said I enjoy taking them. But if it's a choice between living a fairly normal, productive life or succumbing to something which should have killed me years ago, which one do you think I would choose?" She stopped, forcing back the escalating tide of emotion, then added in a calmer tone, "There is no choice."

Madden winced slightly at the mention of the Dithparu, the beings that had ushered her onto the Galaxy in the first place. They'd almost killed her, twice, and while their telepathic attacks were unable to get through her mental blocks, she was so terrified they would succeed and take control of her abilities that she attempted to take her own
life in order to escape. It was the most desperate she'd ever been, even beyond the Cardassian prisoner of war camps, even beyond...

"Using those drugs, muting the psychic noise, especially all-but eliminating it, that's not a normal life," Madden said, the memories of the incident cycling through her mind. She recalled conversations she'd had with Brian and his horror when he brought up these very issues, when he asked her plan -- when she told him. "It's denying who you are, changing how your brain works. It's not normal; at least... it wouldn't be for me. If it is for you... great, but the drugs don't last forever, and what will you do then? You need a back-up. You need to supplement it with training."

"I have been trained." Iniara sighed, trying to keep her thoughts neutral. This was a problem with which she fought every day of her life, and she'd done her best to keep it a private one. But now, to have a woman she barely knew bringing it out into the open like this, without hardly a clue as to why...

"Look, the level of training I'd need to go through to get off inhibitors, to go completely clean, would require me to go on extended medical leave, or maybe even leave Starfleet entirely. Not to mention it would require going back to a place that for at least the past quarter century has been convinced I no longer exist." She sighed again before continuing, her words taking on an angry edge. "Sure, in a perfect world I could go back, get my head in order, learn mastery over this oh-so-wonderful gift, maybe even become the woman my mother always wished I'd be. But this isn't a perfect world. Like I said before, I go where I am needed, and where I'm needed is here. Not in some cursed asylum for people who can't handle what the genetic lottery threw at them."

Madden nodded. "I certainly understand that," she said, "better than you can know. But..." She paused, her lips drawing into a line as she hesitated. "I know that this is a big invasion of privacy. And I apologize for it, I really do; in most circumstances, I wouldn't even have brought it up. I... I never actually bring it up. I try to live as 'Mundane' a life I possibly can, a very strict code. But I said something because..." She was choosing her words carefully, trying to shuffle everything into something simple but explanative at the same time. "I'm worried that it might become a bigger problem for you in the not so distant future. So I wanted to tell you... that I do understand."

She cleared her throat, her heart beginning to race as she prepared to lay down her offer, one she didn't make lightly, one she wasn't sure should be made. But one that had to be, for Iniara's sake. Because going the direction she was going...

"And when -- if you come to the point that it is getting to be too much... you won't need to go to Betazed. They don't have anything to offer you that I can't."

"Oh?" Iniara responded. If the CoB said she could help with training...and could offer everything that the institutions on Betazed could... Her eyes widened slightly as her brain put things together. "Oh," she repeated, much more quietly, realization finally dawning on her. "So you're... You can..." Another long moment passed before she finally asked, "Just how strong are you?"

The master chief's mouth tightened, head nodding slowly. "I'm... I'm strong enough."

Iniara nodded. "I may have to take you up on that offer. Maybe not now, with all that's going on around us, but...someday."

"I hope you do," Madden said, nodding. "I still have to finish my rounds." She paused at the door, looked over her shoulder. "Studying starbeasts, huh?"

"Yeah. Command gets what Command wants, I suppose." The XO shrugged noncommittally. Up until now, she'd been enthusiastic about the mission and the possibility of learning more about the starbeasts. But after her conversation with the CoB, she couldn't help but feel a little bit distracted. This whole situation was definitely going to require further thought.

"Okay then. Who am I to question? Thank you 'Commander."

Iniara smiled. "I feel like I should be the one thanking you. I'll, ah...I'll see you around, I guess." She chuckled lightly and shook her head; what a stupidly obvious thing to say.

"I hope so," Madden said. The doors slid shut behind her as she exited, leaving the XO alone once more.

A full minute passed before Iniara looked away from the doors. There were a million ideas running through her head; questions to be answered, possibilities to be considered. Some of them were going to require serious consideration. But first...

"Computer," she called out as she tapped the console's power button. First, before anything else, she would satisfy her curiosity. "Display personnel file for Jayce, Madden, rank: Master Chief Petty Officer." Iniara quickly skimmed the text as it began to fill the screen, searching for that one tiny piece of information, the one that might not hold all the answers, but might be able to tell her at least something.

There it was. She read the line three times, then read it aloud the fourth time, as if hearing as well as seeing the words would help convince herself of the truth. "OPRED registered telepath, level P...eleven. Prophets be praised..."

As she closed the file Iniara sank back into her chair, whistling softly in amazement. To be in the presence of an officially rated P11 telepath, one who was strong enough to not only maintain mental discipline and tight shielding, but could also mask her abilities so that to average-strength telepaths she seemed much less powerful...

Yes, this was definitely going to require further thought.

"Re-Focus and Release"

Lt Chris Daniels
Acting CTO and Current Convalescent

**3 Days after Brian interviews Chris in Sickbay**

In the last few days Chris’ medical condition had improved rapidly, thanks to the marvels of modern medicine. Injuries that, back in the day, would have taken weeks or months to recover from now took mere days. The after effects of the concussion had subsided, all the lost blood had been replaced and accepted by his body, the skin where K’aa had dug his claws in was now looking like nothing had ever happened, while the cuff on his wrist had almost finished regenerating what K’aa had ground into shards. Now it was just a matter of getting released.

Which, in Chris’ opinion, couldn’t come fast enough.

After the counselor had come and asked for information on K’aa, Chris was taken off the medication that had kept him asleep all day, leaving Chris a lot of time in his biobed awake. He could get up and walk around sickbay a bit, but not for very long. The doctor in charge of his case still wouldn’t release him to duty status, so work wasn’t an option. So he had spent the last few days assuring his family that he was OK, getting updates on what was going on from a few visitors, and reading.

Currently, he was alternating between the latest Fleet and Spacepower Jounal, a Fleet
Tactical publication; and a collection of studies detailing Risan religion. The supernatural visit from his “guardian” for lack of a better term while he was knocked out still confused him, and he was still trying to figure out if there was even a recorded instance of it happening before.

He was neck deep in the Journal, trying to keep appraised of what was going on around the fleet during the war. So far they were seeing typical Triad tactics with a few twists, and the writers did what they could to chronicle what had and what hadn’t worked in their respective cases. Chris would definitely need to submit his own article after the adventures against the Starbeast.

Hopefully, once he got returned to duty, he could start compiling data about the things to make the article more informative. But, for now, he focused on the article detailing a new tactic of three ship maneuvering against a Hydran Star Carrier.

Despite the fact that over the past few days he had had a lot of time to get over it, he still couldn’t get what happened out of the bridge out of his head. Of all the bad things that Chris could have seen coming out of that battle, there was no way anyone could have called that. It was as shocking as it was appalling.

Chris accepted the fact that he couldn’t get the image of K’aa snapping the Captain’s neck out of his memory…a memory that sickened him as well as angered him.

Chris and K’aa had been on rough ground ever since their confrontation on Atlantis. Despite that fact, Chris had—-had—-still considered K’aa a friend until the incident a few days ago.

Now that he let his mind wander, the image of the scene on the bridge replayed through his head again and again. He blankly stared at the Journal PADD as his mind wandered. He cycled through disbelief—it could have been the Messenger again—and then back to anger…an anger that came from two places, one he could explain, and one that he couldn’t. A feeling of revenge would sweep over him in waves. Revenge not only for what the green bastard had done to the captain, but what he had done to Chris personally. That dark, blood lusting side of Chris wanted nothing more than to take a phaser to K’aa’s temple and hold the trigger down for a good long while and watch the lizard’s brain burn. Chris almost felt it his solemn obligation on some level to do it.

He shook his head. Those thoughts, similar to the rage he felt during the second battle of Romulus, came from a side of his psyche that he had to work harder and harder to control at times. Taking a deep breath, he returned to the Journal.

It didn’t last too long. Within a few minutes, the nurse that had been caring for him walked over, looked at the other PADD with the Risan information, and tossed it back on the tray.

“They have religion on Risa?”

Chris nodded. “Not too publicized, since finding native Risans isn’t exactly common nowadays, but it’s out there. From what I can tell, it’s a lot of myths that are either elaborations or total fabrications.

Nurse Nive just nodded. “Right…I wouldn’t have pegged you for a religious person.”

Chris smirked. “Me neither. Is this a social visit or do you have to prod me again?”

Nive smiled. The Lieutenant had been one of the more salty patients she had had in a long time.

“Neither. Doctor Burton signed off on your discharge. You’re free to go.”

Chris’ eyes lit up. “Really?”

Nive nodded. “The wrist cuff has to stay on for awhile while it recalcitizes the bones to strengthen them. Come back every three days and we’ll check to see if it’s ready to come off.”

Chris lifted his arm, showing the cuff. “Sweet, a bracelet…”

“Maybe you can use it to pick up a date.” She smiled sweetly, not knowing that he was taken. “Anyways, you need anything else before I cut you loose? You seem a little bothered a few minutes ago.”

Chris just shrugged. “Just a little bit of a bad dream from the incident. It’s nothing.”

Nive stared at him. She had honed a pretty good bullshit sensor over the years. “Right…well, if you can’t get rid of the dreams, go see a counselor.” Having said that, she reached down and handed him a new uniform. “Good luck, Mr. Daniels, you’re free to go. See you in a few days.”

Chris smiled. Time to get out of this prison and get back to the real world.

"Brown Eye"

With

The Phantom Shitter
Public Enemy

What exactly makes one a Phantom Shitter, you may ask? Or what exactly makes them a 'Phantom'? The answer is simple, my loyal readers (and hapless victims). I became a Phantom in the basic sense that I left no immediate identifying marks, I struck randomly and seemingly without purpose. Even when I was right under their nose, they never even suspected.

I suppose I knew that I would have eventually been caught, but oh, the fun! Especially what I did to 'The Few, The Proud..." Now that really took the cake....

Excerpts from "Human Waste - A broken man's story by [author's name smudged off of hard cover]

Marine Country

This most certainly had to be the most dangerous 'mission' yet for him, this he knew. But no one should expect to be safe from his statement. There should have never been a reason for this, they shouldn't be out here. But they didn't listen, they never did. And now they'll know what happens to them, see what they'll get.

The ventilation shafts and crawlspaces that ran through the Marine's part of the ship for some reason were a bit murky and dusty as well. Perhaps environmental control didn't make their way into these parts often? Nonetheless, they served their purposes well, keeping him concealed, his route untraceable, his movements unseen. And he had some more movements that would not only be seen but smelled as well.

Which was why he was slowly prying the access hatch open into the quarters of this one particular Marine. He shivered from the momentary fear, which gave way to a rush of excitement as he burst into the dimly lit room. He took a look around him, then decided to stick with what worked already.

About five minutes later, the Phantom had left the Battalion Commander a well shaped piece of shit pie on an old earth Campaign Hat. He even took a moment to admire his gift to the Stagnorian. That was truly a masterpiece!

* * * * *

It was a long crawl and climb up from the ship's 'Pit' but he made it to his next and apparently final destination for the night. He would have gotten a few more people, maybe even a repeat, but he was just worn out from the travelling. This was where that new paranoid 'Investigator' was staying. It was even a wonder that he wasn't in his quarters! But there were a few things that needed to be done first.

The Phantom knew that at times he would need to disable any and all sensor equipment wherever he struck. Which was why his Tricorder was modified to do something else - create enough white noise to blot out any and all forms of surveillance, including IR, Optical, Magnetic, Auditory, Moisture Analysis, and anything else that could have been cooked up in Robert West's little 'Pad Of Security'.

Without wasting time, the Phantom dropped his drawers and dropped a pile in the middle of the Investigator's quarters. But that wasn't enough. With the appropriate personal protective adornments, he then shaped the pile into a fairly large phallic symbol. But the piece de resistance was a carefully prepared note that was placed right in front of the now shaped shit.

After taking care of any identifying evidence, he slipped out the way he came, to enjoy a late meal.

West would probably launch a full scale investigation after seeing what was in his quarters. The Phantom laughed at that thought.

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

OOC-Ugh. Major backpost. Sorry, guys.

"The Beasts Within part 3" -Immediately follows "Staring Contest"

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

[Bridge]

"T'Pei to Shivar. The probe modifications are complete."

"Acknowledged T'Pei. We're almost ready up here." Artim replied from the bridge science station that had become his home for the past four hours. He'd been frantically going over the available sensor data and attempting to program the best course for the probe. It wasn't easy with all the plasma disruptions around the Starbeasts. Still, he'd managed to get something workable programmed in. After sending the program to the probe he tapped his own comm badge.

"T'Pei, we should be ready to launch now. Go ahead and load her up."

"Acknowledged. Engineering has retrieved the probe and is loading it for launch. Given our current distance from the Starbeasts, I anticipate that we will begin receiving data in approximately five minutes."

[Science Lab 3]

T'Pei watched the trajectory of the probe on the screen in front of her. It would have to get extremely close to the Starbeasts before it would pick up any actual information. She and Ensign Lannow had reinforced the probe's outer shell to withstand high temperatures, and they had altered the sensor equipment to cut through the heavy electromagnetic interference of the nebula. This had meant deliberately sacrificing some of the precision that the probe's scans would have had normally, but they would at least be able to get some information about the carcasses and the surrounding area before the ship had arrived in the vicinity. Given their three day time window, every moment mattered.

The screen flashed in front of her, signaling that the probe was within scanning range of one of the three beasts. She didn't see anything unexpected--the Starbeast was dead, but it was not immediately apparent why. She opened a channel to the bridge.

"Lieutenant Shivar, we are receiving input from the probe."

"Acknowledged, it's coming through up here as well...most fascinating."

The material on the first Starbeast kept scrolling onto the screen in front of her, faster than she could take it in, especially when the probe moved into range of the other two creatures. T'Pei was pulling up the internal scan of the female Starbeast on a neighboring screen in order to compare it to the scans of these Starbeasts when something on the screen caught her eye.

"Astounding," she murmured. "Lieutenant, I believe you were incorrect in thinking that there were eggs out here..."

[Bridge]

As the telemetry continued to come in Artim couldn't help but mutter to himself. "Wow. WOW!"

T'Pei's voice filtered onto the bridge again. "Lieutenant, are you looking at the scans of the largest Starbeast?"

"Yeah I am! If I'm reading this right it appears there is at least one live fetus out there. Look, here, there's a clear, but faint, life sign." He quickly reached for his comm badge to page the XO. "T'pei, can you confirm, is the fetus in the larger one still viable in your estimation?"

"Indeed. I am reading a life sign within the largest Starbeast. However, I am unclear as to how the fetus is being supported, as this creature has been dead for at least 48 hours according to our own scans. Furthermore, if I am correct, this Starbeast is...not capable of giving birth, at least not as we understand it."

"Whatcha mean? It certainly looks like its going to have a kid to me," Artim replied as he continued to leaf through the sensor readings.

"I mean that this animal is male."

"Well now that explains a lot. Must use the males as nests, protect and nourish the young. Only one problem...I'm not sure the fetus can escape."

[Science Lab 3]

T'Pei breathed deeply and shot an exasperated look at the speaker Artim's voice was coming from. "Not human," she said quietly, "and yet so similarly illogical." In her mind, there was clearly more than just 'one problem' with the situation the Miran was describing.

"That is a leap in reasoning, Lieutenant. It is possible that these are normal circumstances, and the dead male host is supposed to act as nourishment for the young, who emerge once the food source has been consumed. Or, it also possible that the male is intended to live through carrying the young to term. It is finally possible that my designation of this as a male, and the other creature as a female, was incorrect, although I highly doubt that. We have no way to currently gauge the normalcy of this situation, other than the presence of a life sign that is, admittedly, weak. We need to acquire more information before engaging in speculation."

If Artim was bothered by T'Pei's disapproval, or even noticed it, his voice didn't show it. "We've got to get in there, T'Pei. We have to see this fetus. We could see the beginning of the Starbeast lifecycle! Meet me on the bridge, I'm going to contact the XO."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

[Bridge]

Striding from the turbolift, the XO went directly to the science station at which Artim was sitting. She observed the sensor readings for a moment before continuing where their brief conversation had left off. "So, you're saying at least one of the Starbeasts is pregnant?"

"Pregnant might not be the correct term, Commander," T'Pei answered from the seat she had taken at Ops. "This Starbeast is male. The female appears to have deposited the fertilized egg within it, quite some time ago. The level of fetal development is considerable."

"OK, but there's at least one live fetus inside the Starbeast. I don't suppose the adult is anywhere close to giving birth?" Dead Starbeasts were one thing...a healthy newborn, even if it was much smaller than an adult, could still pose a threat to the ship.

"Well ma'am with the sensor dampening properties of the nebula there's only one good way to get a clear scan. Go inside," Artim said as a wry smile emerged on his face. Going into the belly of a Starbeast sounded like fun.

Iniara crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. "I'm not sure about this. Investigating the guts of a giant space creature...could be too risky. I'm reluctant to send you in, not knowing what sort of dangers you might be up against in there. Whether it's danger from parasites, the fetus itself, or even just the starbeast's body chemistry. Who's to say their digestive fluids, or even their blood, won't eat right through the EVA suits?"

"No clue. But there really is only one way to find out. Best I can do from out here are poorly educated guesses," Artim replied. He was only barely able to resist the childish begging that his physiological age would necessitate right now.

"And you're sure the only way to get the intel we need is to go inside the Starbeast."

Artim nodded, grinning slightly.

"Very well. Do what you need to," the XO concluded. "But I want any and all away teams to check in every fifteen minutes. And if you run into any trouble, well...that's what emergency transporters are for."

T'Pei nodded. "Understood. We'll assemble the teams and leave within two hours."

"I call the one with the kid!" Artim half shouted, like a kid calling shotgun on a long car trip.

"Broken Little Ship"

With

Bruno Ascencion
Captain
USS Jacmel

Deck 1

It was the prerogative and sometimes duty of a ship's Captain to personally oversee any and all repairs being made to his vessel. In some ways, it's like watching surgery being performed on one's self. Bruno felt this more acutely as he gave the orders for his ship...his wonderful ship...to be placed in harm's way for the good of the mission. And given the opportunity, he would do it again, and again. He said so during the informal inquest as to his last command decision before M'Kantu intervened: To ram the Starbeast with the Jacmel. There was also some question to the ethical soundness of von Ernst redirecting his ship's course to another target utilizing the Zeus' powerful tractor beams. Ascencion was still seething about that little bitch's little deed.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Now was not the time to get all worked up about the redheaded waif. His crew (what was left of them) needed him and needed to see him stand up tall. Leadership is both a blessing and a burden. Right now, he was feeling the burden more so than usual. The damage control teams had finished patching the hull breaches and were currently performing hull integrity testing, beginning with the saucer section. He stood by as he watched a section of hull buckle slightly before the fields were reinforced. Damage control immediately responded to that section from outside the ship.

When they were finished correcting the deficiency, another integrity field test was performed. This time there were no faults to be found. Satisfied, the Captain nodded to the crew members and gave a 'well done' while shaking a few hands. That's the way Bruno Ascencion was. He shook hands with everyone, enlisted or commissioned. They were all one crew as far as he was concerned, just with different jobs and skills. It didn't mean that he was lax about rank etiquette. Far from it, however he understood the value of even handedness with people that work with and for you.

Main Engineering

The hustle and bustle of Main Engineering was no less than usual with technicians and specialists swarming about, reading displays, welding plasteel, running cables. There seemed to be not one person idle in the ship's heart. And that was just fine with Bruno. He was especially careful to ensure that was not in any one's way, and at one point asked a Technician if he could assist her (to which he received a warm thank you but she was able to handle it). Bruno smiled at that. It wasn't because he was the Captain and she didn't want to bother him with anything. It was because his crew was self-sufficient, able to take on great tasks and perform them individually just as well as they can perform them as a group.

But despite all that, his ship had taken a beating. His 'Driftwood' maneuver was defeated by the Hydran's Hellbore. It's not that they read his maneuver, he realized that now. It's that the bastards were ruthless and had equally (if not more so) ruthless weapons. Most of the damage would have to wait until they could get to a major shipyard like Utopia Planetia, but for now he just wanted his ship to be warp capable and also able to repel an attack if necessary. At least that was the plan. Apparently, Command had other ideas. Which was why he was in orbit around Delta IV now, using their shipyards and repair facilities.

The USS Jacmel was to make all possible repairs within the vicinity of Delta IV and utilize any and all resources available. Then they were to rejoin the task force and support any operations post haste.

Great, Bruno thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. Trying to pick the splinters out of our ass and getting sent back into a stick fight at the same time.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a large cylinder dropped to the deck with a racket. Bruno rushed over to help a couple of crewmen set it back in place. He even lashed the cylinder back into its housing.

"Much appreciated, sir," one crewman was saying.

"It's a team effort, young man," the Captain was saying with a smile. He walked over to a console and pulled up an efficiency schematic. A conversation ensued where Bruno and several people discussed the potential of a modified warp field designed to take advantage of the Jacmel's compact shape and size...and current physical condition. After about a hour of brainstorming, the group broke off into several directions, each interested in testing their individual theories. Ascencion smiled again and moved on to other parts of the ship. His 'little' ship was broken, but the people that gave her life were active and enthusiastic. Bruno decided to draw strength from that to get through his day.

Bridge

"Radio, message to the Galaxy: Will be able to provide escort/assistance within 35 to 42 hours as per Command's request." Ascencion was standing, his chair was not replaced yet. Much of the Bridge was still a work in progress, tubing still hanging, conduits exposed, panels still showing the scorch marks of overloaded circuits.

The duty Communications Officer shortly replied, "Galaxy receives and states they will advise."

"Thank you, Ensign. I'll be on the auxiliary bridge if you need me." He paused, then turned back to the Ensign. "You, Ensign...?"

"Sung, sir" she replied.

"Ensign Sung, you have the Bridge. Duty officer, make the notation."

"Aye, sir," was the surprised look from the CoB, who was filling in as Duty Officer for that shift. When Ascencion left, the now shocked Ensign looked at the burly Klingon.

"What do I do," she asked, clearly panicked.

The CoB smiled and simply replied, "You tell me...Ma'am"

"Welcome to the Vanguards"

Artemis Bancroft
Ella Grey
Nathan Everett

*****

USS Galaxy Flight Deck

Artemis Bancroft stepped off the lift when the doors opened. She felt nervous here. Her flight experiences had all been limited to holographic simulations, but she'd been indoctrinated into the fundamentals of flight since she was old enough to understand what flying was. She'd had some of the best teachers in the whole galaxy. And, even without any practical experience in a fighter cockpit, she knew that this wasn't a mistake. She knew she could do this.

Feeling a little lost as she slowly moved into the area of the Galaxy designated for the flight crews, she found her gaze wandering everywhere. Taking it all in, she almost missed the familiar face across the way.

Smiling at finally finding an anchor to bring her back to reality, rather than the nerve central she had been buzzing around in a moment ago, she altered her course and headed toward where she'd seen Ella Grey.

She was talking with a man that Artemis didn't recognize. Though, people on the Galaxy Artemis didn't recognize was clearly a majority. But, she narrowed it down to a pilot she didn't recognize. Maybe she should have spent a little more time looking at the crew list instead of schematics of the fighters and the layout of the deck.

"Hi," she said once she was certain she wouldn't be interrupting anything. She waved at Ella when the woman noticed her. "I don't want to intrude, but I finally got news back from Starfleet. And they gave a green light on me taking flight courses to join the Starfighter Corps. So, here I am."

Ella smiled. "We'll be happy to have you. Have you found an instructor yet?"

Artemis shook her head. "Not yet," she said. "Things have been so hectic, I haven't really had a chance. I've mostly been working on some initial Academy basics exams and getting qualifications done. I've already done the first three simulator tests for flight school. All my scores are on file."

Nathan looked from Ella to Artemis, smiling at the girl as he extended his hand to her. "Ah don't believe we've met. Lieutenant Nathan Everett. Ah'm the Galaxy's wing commander...fer now, anyway."

She shook his hand. "I'm Cadet Artemis Bancroft."

"Nice to meet you, Cadet, and lahk Flight Officer Grey here said, we're happy to have you aboard. There any questions you need us to answer?"

Artemis thought about it for a moment. "I guess, my only real questions would be where do I start? I know I'm probably not ready to get help out in a real fight, but I guess I want to help as much as I can. I just want to do my part."

Nathan quirked an amused eyebrow at the cadet, and his smile widened a touch. "Well, first of all, Cadet, relax. This isn't the Marines, we don't worry as much about actin' all prim'n proper. The only thing that impresses us down here in pilot country is yer skill in the cockpit. Understand?"

"Don't scare her," Ella said, rolling her eyes.

Cowboy gave her a look, then shrugged as he looked to Artemis again. "Alright, sorry. Look, normally what we do is we run you through a buncha trainin' exercises to test yer capabilities. The brass may think you've got what it takes to be a fighter pilot, but they're not the ones who're gonna be out there on yer wing, dependin' on you to
get 'em back home safely."

He leaned back against the wall and nodded. "So, Songbird and Ah'll look over the trainin' programs you've already done and see how you scored. Some folks do well enough in the initial simulations that they can skip on to the more advanced stuff." He smirked a little bit. "Ah was one of those types, but we're not here to talk about me."

"I understand, sir," Artemis said. "I'm looking forward to seeing what I can do."

"After that, we'll put you on the standard trainin' regimen and, if yer any good, you'll earn yer wings. And that, Cadet, is when the real fun begins," Nathan finished with a grin. He looked Artemis over and shook his head. "Before all that, though, we've gotta do somethin' about that uniform yer wearin'."

Artemis glanced at her uniform, worry etched on her face. Had she spilled something on her herself? "Wh-what's wrong with my uniform, sir?"

"Flight jacket, Cadet," Nathan clarified, tugging on the lapel of his own. "Pajamas're fer fleeties'n jarheads. Talk to Crewman Ryan, our quartermaster. He'll getcha squared away. Anythin' else Ah can help you with?"

Artemis grinned. "Only thing I can think of, sir, is when do I start?"

Nathan couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm. "How's tomorrow sound to you?"

"Tomorrow sounds like a perfect day, sir," Artemis said. "If that's all, I think I'll go track down Crewman Ryan and see about getting into the right uniform."

He nodded. "That'll be fine, Cadet. Welcome to the Vanguards."

The words were enough to send Artemis Bancroft's heart racing. Welcome to the Vanguards. She wouldn't have dreamed that she'd ever be in this position. If her mother new she was doing this, she'd be in huge trouble. But here she was, embarking on a path that she hadn't anticipated, that she hadn't expected. But it felt right. It felt like destiny had reached out and pushed her to this point. She only hoped that when it came time to show her stuff that she'd shine. Shi had every confidence in her. That should count for something. She just had to have that same confidence in herself.

As the cadet ventured off in search of Crewman Ryan, she couldn't help grinning. It felt like she was walking on the clouds. It felt good.

"Wading In"

(Takes place after 'Wrong Pit Stop' and before 'A Time To...')

Commander Brian Elessidil
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 14
Counseling Offices

Victor could formerly have counted the number of times he'd entered counseling offices when he wasn't there for one of his scheduled sessions on the fingers of one hand.

Which, all things considered, was a very good thing. Because the only reason he came to places like this outside of an appointment was to consult with someone about a crime that had obvious psychological motives associated with it, or to seek understanding of the psychology of an obviously aberrant individual he was pursuing.

Today made six occasions he'd pursued such an individual - but marked the first time that he was pursuing someone that was not, as of yet, a killer.

The receptionist - an attractive girl from a human stock species with the slight hint of 'alienness' that signified one of the long-established colonies that had developed its own identity – looked up as the door slid open, and her smile faltered as she saw who it was.

"I need to see Commander Elessidil, please," Victor stared without preamble. He did, however, try and stay on the opposite side of the room so as to not cause more distress than was necessary, since the department normally scheduled a Vulcan receptionist when he was due for an appointment. "It's with regards to a case file that I sent him this morning," Victor added. "He should be expecting me."

"Come in, Lieutenant," Counselor Elessidil said, appearing in his doorway of his office before the receptionist could verify the appointment. "Let's talk." He didn't wait for a response from Victor, but instead returned to his desk. Appointments with Krieghoff were rare, but when they were necessary Brian did a lot of advance mental
preparation. He steeled himself anew, ready to get down to business.

"I'm sure you understand if I suggest you sit over there," he said, gesturing to the couch and chairs on the other side of the room where he usually met for sessions. "Can I get you anything?"

"A suspect would be nice," Victor replied as he moved over to the indicated spot. "And of course I don't mind sitting over here, Commander. Why would I want to make this worse on you that it's already going to be?"

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, and it wasn't because of Victor. "Okay," he began with a light sigh, "why don't you run through the specifics of what you know so far, just so I'm sure I didn't mis-read anything what I received from you earlier.

With a nod, Victor began. "Originally the perpetrator affected entrance to quarters while the occupants are away, left their deposit of waste, and then departed. In the most recent cases, the perpetrator has escalated their behavior, and begun to write messages on the walls in the deposited waste, as then spread it around the room liberally. They appear to deposit said waste in a normal biological fashion after
arriving at the chosen scene, as opposed to bringing it with them in a container. They are obviously using some form of chemical 'enhancement' to produce the amount of waste being used, since my check of the normal production parameters for any crewman aboard revealed that the observed deposited quantities were too large to belong to anyone except one of the whales, and they lack the capacity to affect the stealthy entrance the perpetrator has used." He shrugged. "That's close to everything
that's supported by facts. I do have some deductive observations if you want to hear those as well?"

"By all means," the counselor answered with a light wave of his hand. He still couldn't quite believe they were even having this conversation.

"I suspect that the perpetrator is operating alone, due to the difficulty in finding a partner that shares their particular expressive methodology. I further postulate that the perpetrator is more likely male than female, based solely on the fact that I have difficulty envisioning a woman doing this. I further propose that the individual
is going to be one of the members of the crew that has a standard humanoid physiognomy, since I can't see how anyone else would manage to get into the places this individual has without that." Victor frowned. "I'm also certain that the perpetrator is operating according to some sort of plan or inner schedule that drives him to select certain individuals as targets. Until the incident in Commander Tarin's quarters, I had thought it had something to do with physical possessions and making people see that they were meaningless, that they were, in fact, nothing more than the material he used to deface them. That theory explained the bat'leth and Crewman Jimsdottir's guitar, for instance, but fails to account for the way the XO's room was defaced."

"Okay," Brian said as he considered the situation. "Your observations sound reasonable to me; although I don't think we can conclude just yet that the perpetrator is male just because you have difficulty imagining it otherwise, even though I'm inclined to agree with you."

He paused to concentrate as a wave of dizziness threatened to unsettle him. "Let's...focus on the targeted individuals for a moment. Is there any pattern there? Have they been of the same species, gender, background or any other defining characteristic?"

Victor nodded and checked his PADD. "My compiled list of the incidents looks like this, in order from first to last: Crew Lounge 24-A - Table. Petty Officer 2nd Class Ben Maxwell, Medical - autographed baseball bat. Lieutenant Nathan Everett, Acting CAG - cowboy hat and bed. Lieutenant Thyago Carneiro - desk/picture. Crewman Allison Jimsdottir, Security - guitar. Flight Officer Ella Grey, Vanguard pilot - under fighter. Commander Arel Smith, Strategic Operations Officer - bat'leth and left
message. Commander Tarin Iniara, XO - whole room and left message. Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin, Sciences - replicated platter on scene. Six humans, one Bajoran, and one Frun'alin. Four males and three females. Two enlisted personnel and five officers. The only department assignment that appears twice is the Vanguards." He leaned back in his chair. "You see my point about the physical objects, though? I'm just not certain how to relate the defacement of the XO's quarters to that - assuming that it has any basis in reality of course."

"I think it's certainly a valid possibility," Elessidil noted. "But there are others. For example, the perpetrator may not be trying to make a statement about the objects themselves, but perhaps is looking for a means to maximize insult or shock to the victim. Treating what could be someone's treasured possession in such a way may be all about trying to really piss someone off or to hurt them without actually assaulting that person directly. In the case of Commander Tarin, it may be that the perpetrator considered the Commander's physical space as a whole the most meaningful thing to her. This could be more about gratification through shock or notoriety than about the intrinsic value, or lack thereof, of material possessions." Again, he paused to
re-steady himself in the wake of Krieghoff's presence. Brian hadn't spent this much time in proximity to Victor in a long time for good reason. "As your facts suggest, there doesn't appear to be a pattern among the victims, so I think it's reasonable to assume this has mostly likely been an exercise in the perpetrator's own needs or frustrations. Definitely a psychological issue to be addressed at some point.
Interesting how he or she has avoided any of the counseling staff," he noted as a sudden aside. "Could be deliberate or could simply be the odds working in our favor."

"Perhaps," Victor agreed. "Although it could also be that he's 'working up' to your department as it were. I simply don't know. This is not the sort of thing that I - or you, I expect - normally have to deal with."

"Also a possibility," Brian admitted, not relishing the prospect. "And definitely not something I can say I've had to deal with yet in my career in Starfleet, as a counselor or otherwise." It was a fact that only made the situation that much more difficult. "I'm ready to continue to lend whatever aid I can in your investigation, Lieutenant,
but bear in mind there's an inherent difference in how you and I usually work. An approach from a security perspective might look at motivations to discover the person; in psychology, we're usually looking at the person to help understand motivations. For now, I'd like to brush up on some research in this area if you don't mind; the phenomenon has some history but I'm only vaguely familiar with it. In the meantime, has Dr. Burton or anyone conducted any sort of analysis of the...um...evidence? Maybe something could be learned from that, including a possible DNA match with someone on board?"

"The tests are ongoing now," Victor nodded. "DNA sampling from the evidence in question is, I am told, made difficult by the nature of the digestive process, as well as by the chemical he's using to... assist... production. I've asked them to give me a chemical breakdown on the laxative in question, so I can try to trace that. They'll turn it up eventually; I'd just rather than it was sooner as opposed to later."

"I'd say we're all in agreement there." The counselor leaned on his desk to steady himself. "Lieutenant...I, uh, wonder if we could end here for now. I'm sure you understand. We can meet again after I've had a chance to do a little more research. What you've suggested so far is at the very least plausible, so I'd recommend you continue following your instincts."

"Which is more or less what I'm doing now," Victor nodded.

"If I have anything that might be of interest or of use to you I'll let you know immediately. And please keep me updated on any new occurrences or other information you discover."

"I will," Victor said with a nod as he rose. "At this point, I'm thinking that my best opportunity will be to try and identify a future target and take steps to catch the perpetrator in the act. Assuming I can identify such a target, it should work well enough." He stopped at the door. "If it will help, I'm willing to hold future meetings via vidconference, Commander?"

Brian thought for a moment. On the one hand, meeting with Krieghoff via video would certainly be less taxing; on the other hand, he wondered if being in his presence more frequently would help him to build more of a tolerance. He mustered a grin. "Let's play that by ear. I'll let you know how I'm feeling next time we need to meet."

"All right, Commander," Victor nodded as he departed.

"Surprise Surprise Part 3"

Borg Bane(Val)
Super Secret Squirrel in Training (Aina Mason)
Cmdr Jaal "Needs-A-Good-Nickname" Jaxom

Introducing

"Baby Beastie"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jaal looked down at a scan of the area that was completed and the strange reading has been resolved. There was a breakdown of materials, mass but the main thing that interested the commander was that it's floating only ten meteres up, in the area of the main antimatter reaction chamber. He looks up and is a little stunned from disbelief...

"Whooooaaaaaaaaa....."

Valentina glanced up, tilting her head to one side. The creature in her field of vision was extraordinary, much more beautiful and radiant than it's dull visual light reference. "Beautiful," she whispered over the open link. Pushing off a nearby bulkhead she began a slow drift closer to the object of her scrutiny.

Aina was in disbelief, floating in the great chamber above the central antimatter reactor was a mini-starbeast, no not a mini-starbeast, it must be an infant, very young.

Jaal kept staring in disbelief without moving closer. "It is alive? Can it... see us?"

"While I'm not an expert in xenobiology," Val offered, "I'd say it's still alive, if only just." With that she pulled out her own tricorder, setting the device for passive scans only.

Val watched her tricorder, thermal imaging showing the small areas of heat coming from the body, electromagnetic interference patterns showing muscular activation and neural activity were active, and a half a dozen other teltales indicated that it was still alive. She also noticed a fair amount of inert biological mass, that would have been the bodies of dead hydrans and inorganic materials in the surrounding rooms showed more consistent across most wavelengths, the live Baby Beastie was showing up as more ... chaotic.

Leaving the Starbeast infant for the other two, Valentina continued the interior sweep of the Engineering Compartment. On the starboard bulkhead was a rather large hole, the twisted remains of machinery and equipment trailing form it and visible farther down. Everything was trailing from the exterior of the ship inwards, leaving Val to the belief that this had been caused by the Starbeast, but exactly how remained to be seen. "Commander, I'm going to take a look at this entry wound," Val said.

Jaal looked up at Val and just nodded at the request, his eyes and his attention moved quickly to the sight that was before him.

"Shouldn't be more than a moment, I want to see if that thing was propelled, or if it simply tore it's way through the hull and bulkheads on it's way inside." Once she reached the ceiling Val engaged her magnetic boots and clomped across the ceiling and into the hole, disapearing from view.

Jaal finally found it in himself to move around the room carefully shining his flashlight across the best to get a better look.

As the two moved around, their lights from the suits illuminating the slowly rotating creather, there's came a keening wail. Jaal and Aina looked at each other, not only did they hear it on the comms, they heard the wail with their ears. As they watch a pseudopod slowly oscillated and was is still again.

Jaal jumped back as every hair on his body stood on end. He motioned for Aina to take a step back in case the thing decided it was hungry. The last thing he needed was a cadet on his away team suddenly 'eaten'. How the hell would he explain 'that' to her parents?

He quickly tapped his commbadge and, through the runabout that brought them, established a link with the Galaxy. As calmly as he could he informed the ship's science department that they'd found, what appeared to be, a baby starbeast but judging from what he could make out on his tricorder, it wouldn't be alive for long.

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