~The Fantastic Voyage~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin

Lt. Thyago Carneiro

Lt. Jg. T'Pei

Ens. Relsta

Thyago was floating. His eyelids were screwed shut, but there was a glowing red light behind them. Distantly, he was aware that Cutter was saying something, but it was buried under static, a buzz that seemed to be coming from inside his head, rather than from his intercomm. His stomach lurched as he finally opened his eyes to a chunky, blood red haze. Dark blobs hovered just under his facemask, so thick that he could barely see his own arm dangling below him. All Thyago could make out were faint lights that criss-crossed in front of him, softer than the energy arcs had been.

He remembered T'Pei yelling behind the mask of her EVA suit, backlit by the crackling rays that ripped across the chamber towards them. 'They're converging,' he thought. 'We're the most conductive thing in here, and they're all converging on us.' He had pushed the Vulcan woman hard and kicked frantically back into the chamber, straight towards the branching neuron, hoping that if they moved in separate directions it would separate the energy discharges.

And then the starburst of light, and the screaming noise, and everything had gone red. Thyago closed his eyes again.

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

"Cutter, I see him." First T'Pei's voice penetrated the buzzing, then the Vulcan herself was there, holding his arm firmly. Thyago saw Cutter hovering behind her, an indistinct shape through the red mist. "He was closer to the neuron when it exploded. Can you hear me, Lieutenant?"

"Wuh? What hit me?" Thyago mumbled.

"The shock wave from when Lieutenant Kara'nin destroyed the neuron, most likely," T'Pei answered.

"The whuh?" the Brazilian repeated.

"You were electrocuted...when the neuron exploded." T'Pei spoke slowly, beginning to wonder if Thyago had a concussion as well.

"Oh," Thyago acknowledged, then, after he had thought about it for a moment, asked, "Really? 'Cause, I shock myself all the time--"

"That's not surprising," Cutter coughed.

"--And, it's never felt like that."

T'Pei looked back towards Cutter and tilted her head, silently asking if this was the way the engineer usually behaved, or if they should be worried. "He's fine," the Fruna'lin scoffed.

If this was normal, then they were wasting time. "Lieutenant, I could hear Ensign Relsta over the comm before it cut out. Do you have any idea where she is?"

He shrugged and hummed, 'I don't know,' "She was trying to outswim the lightning bolt things. Maybe she got away?"

"With the neuron destroyed, the electrical interference in our comm systems should be dissipated for the nearby area," Cutter suggested.

"The Ensign would have contacted us if she was able to," T'Pei stated. "She must be out of comm range, or incapacitated. If she is nearby...can we scan for her, Cutter?"

"No," Cutter responded. "This fluid is opaque to low frequency EM radiation. We could theoretically scan using high frequency UV or X-rays, but our tricorders are limited in their ability to generate radiation of that level of energy. It would not be any better than our eyes. I suggest we look around the old fashioned way."

T'Pei nodded. "With this visibility, we will lose visual contact immediately, so do not travel out of range of the comm system," she directed sharply at Thyago as they split up, each of them using one of the chamber walls as a visual referent. The engineer headed up towards the ceiling, Cutter was working his way along one of the walls, and T'Pei had dropped towards the floor, moving deeper into the cavern. She wasn't sure how they would find Relsta if she was floating in the middle of the chamber. Whereas before, the cloudy, but otherwise transparent fluid allowed them to see several meters in front of them, the now bloody and polluted mess only allowed visibility of a few feet. Fortunately, it wasn't long before one of them stumbled on Relsta's prone and immobile body.

"I think I found her," Thyago announced over the comm. "I swam up from where we were."

"What is her condition?" T'Pei asked as she swam back towards the engineer.

"She's not responding."

Relsta's face was covered with red and black puckered burns, and T'Pei knew that Relsta's chances depended on how much of the current had passed through her vital organs. The Vulcan woman felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. She and Relsta were not friends in the way that humans would think of friendship; they didn't cry or laugh or gossip the way she had seen human women do. But they had spent over two years alone together, sharing research and the pattern of day to day life, and she had developed a respect and affection for Relsta which T'Pei had for very few individuals. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure.

"She was hit more directly than you were, probably before the neuron was destroyed," she finally said. "We have to get her to sickbay immediately."

"That will be difficult, seeing as how we've lost contact with the ship," Cutter said, swimming up to their position.

"What do you mean?" T'Pei tapped her comm, but as Cutter had predicted, she got no response. "Do you have any idea of what happened?"

"The innards of the star beast are soft and fleshy, like most known biological organisms," Cutter pointed out, "There is no way they could withstand exposure to the ionized plasma of the nebula, but the star beast, as a whole, appears to be quite capable of withstanding the hazards. Its exoskeleton must provide nearly complete protection from the intense temperatures and high energy radiation. Our comm systems and transporter sensors use bandwidths and wavelengths of much lower energies, there is no way they would be able to permeate that shield. If we want to get out of here, we will have to make our way towards an open wound or get just beneath the dermal layers."

"We should return to the place we beamed into, then, and contact Galaxy from there. Here, Lieutenant," T'Pei took one of Relsta's arms, signaling to Thyago to take the other, so that the Denobulan's body dangled between them. With Cutter leading, the three began the swim to the beam-out point.

"Are you sure we're going the right way," Thyago asked after they had been travelling for a while. The tubes (they were still unclear as to what their function was because, beyond the nerve cell chamber, the fluid had become clear again, like puss or fresh mucus, rather than red (or green) like blood) seemed to wind and twist and extend for far further than when they had first traveled them.

"No," Cutter said flatly.

Thyago stared at him through his faceplate. "Ok," he said, dragging out the word for several seconds, "That's comforting."

The team continued in silence for several minutes, unsure if they were headed back towards the dermal layer, or deeper into the Starbeast. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to wait long to get an answer. Unfortunately, their answer came in the form of a dead end chamber, blocked by some sort of valve which was closed-off into a coiled spiral. They had gone the exact wrong way.

Thyago let go of Relsta's unconcious body and let it float weightlessly in the fluid. Then, he kicked hard and bolted forward as hard as he could, passing Cutter, until he slammed into the blockage, which, undaunted, remained firmly closed.

"Was there a point to that?" Cutter asked.

The Brazilian, having been knocked sideways, swiveled upright. "I thought we could force it," he said sheepishly.

"Even if we could, there is no sense in going through. We've clearly gone in the wrong direction, and should turn around..." T'Pei faltered as the fluid around them began to ripple, pushed by small undulations in the wall behind Thyago. Small bubbles trickled out from the center of the spiral for a few seconds, and then, as suddenly as it started, the vibrations stopped. "You seem to have made an impression after all, Lieutenant," she commented, and then added under her breath, "Imagine that."

"Hey, maybe we can shoot it open," Thyago said. He turned and began to paddle towards the wall of the tube. "I'll move--"

"AAAGH!" Cutter shouted suddenly, then clenched his body into a defensive position behind his arms.

Thyago and T'Pei both stopped and looked around for a moment, but the fluid was just as still as before. Then, their eyes turned questioningly to Cutter, who was straightening out, looking lost and disoriented. "Como?" Thyago asked. "What happened?"

But, the Fruna'lin did not have a chance to respond because Thyago, who stopped swimming at the Cutter's sudden outburst, continued to move backwards with his momentum until he bumped into the side of the tube. And a small nerve ending deep inside the valve, tickled by the contact, let off an electrical signal which launched a muscle spasm, and the spiral gradually uncoiled. And, immediately behind it, were the many, many sources of the vibrations. The away team watched in horror as a swarm of worm-like creatures spilled out of the valve. Their sinewy, muscular tails gripped at the walls of the tube as they slid out along the walls of the tube, which now pulsed around them with the intensity of a heart beat, in concert with the creatures' movements.

A harsh gurgling from behind her left shoulder alerted her, and T'Pei lunged forward away from the wall, clutching Relsta's prone form to her. She saw the worm arch back. Then, with a twist of its powerful tail, it snapped forward, trying to reach for her with a bulging sucker that, in a grotesque parody of lips, surrounded a gaping hole in its front end.

T'Pei could hear the gurgling caused by the creatures furious sucking in and out as they moved, and the liquid around her was roiling up. She noticed that she was losing sight of the walls, although they were fewer than four meters away. 'If we lose visibility,' she thought, 'we won't be able to stay in the center.'

"Head back for the entrance!" T'Pei yelled over the comm. She could only hope that Cutter and Thyago had heard her; the liquid was frothing around her and she could no longer see them.

"What entrance? Agh! Caralho, esta sugando em minha cara!" Thyago's voice shouted in her ears. Before she could respond, she felt something collide into her back, like a torpedo. She turned to see someone writhing around, one of the worms attached to their face plate. "Get it off!" Thyago's voice called out.

T'Pei grabbed Thyago's arm and pulled him towards her. There was a chance that if she yanked on the creature, that it would damage his EVA suit, but she couldn't think of any other option. She wrapped her gloved hands around the writhing tail and pulled hard. Instead of letting Thyago go, the creature chittered angrily and wrapped its tail around T'Pei's wrist, binding it in place. With her free hand, she grabbed her phaser and shot it, severing the tail. It screeched and let go of Thyago's mask.

"Obrigada," Thyago said.

"That way," T'Pei said, pointing towards the now open valve. She lifted Relsta's body and pushed it towards Thyago so that he would grab it and help her move it. Together, they kicked their way towards the source of the creatures. It wasn't long before they found Cutter, swimming in place, spinning in circles, scanning for any attacking worms.

"They're moving away," he announced. "I think they had been trying to get through that passage way."

"Porra, what were those things?!" Thyago said.

T'Pei looked back they way they came, her head light reflecting off the turbulent wake of the passing creatures. "They are most likely some type of symbiote. Judging from the suckers, and their inability to swim freely, I would imagine they serve to dispose of dead cells or some other waste. But, I am more interested in Cutter's behavior just before we were swarmed."

"Yeah, dude, what was that? It's like you knew they were coming."

Cutter turned and looked at his two colleagues for a moment before frowning, "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"What? You freaked out, "Thyago said, "Like, you screamed, and then ducked, and then, bam, that wall thing opened and all those monsters came out and started sucking on our face plates."

Cutter squinted at Thyago contemptuously and shook his head. "I don't remember," he said, then immediately changed the subject. "I'm picking up increased gamma ray counts in this direction. We're probably getting close to the dermal layer." Without waiting, he turned and began to swim down the corridor.

T'Pei stared after Cutter's retreating form. He was clearly hiding something, but now was not the time to press him. She gestured at Thyago and the two followed behind Cutter, supporting Relsta between them.

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

The fluid was still. Quiet. Unperturbed, until it was disturbed. The fleshy wall which held it in place bulged and blistered, sending a small ripple through the otherwise still liquid. And, when the bulge subsided, the ripple bounced back, and once again, the fluid was still. Quiet. Unperturbed, until, for a second time, it was disturbed. Another bulge into the space, a bump, expanding and collapsing back like a rubber sheet. Another ripple until, again, stillness. Quiet. Unperturbed, until a third bulge. But this time, the flesh ripped apart, and the bulge gave birth to a head.

Thyago's head.

"Hey, it worked this time!"

"Yes, excellent work," Cutter spat. Then, after a moment, asked, "Are you going to go all the way through, or not?"

"Um," Thyago began, "I think I'm stuck."

Cutter let out a loud sigh over the comms and then placed his hands on Thyago's feet and shoved. Without too much effort, Thyago slipped through with a 'plorp,' and Cutter followed behind.

"What do you see?" T'Pei asked from the other side.

Cutter and Thyago stared up into a vast chasm, nearly half a kilometer wide. The whole chamber glowed red, like a lava lamp, like the starbeast's blood was on fire. All the light was seeping in through the ceiling above them. Inside the cavern, lay three giant, infant starbeasts (though small, in comparison to the adult they lay inside of). All of them were still.

Dead.

"Cutter?" T'Pei asked again.

"We've reached the fetal chamber," Cutter responded.

Anchoring Relsta's body between her ankles, T'Pei poked her head through the opening. She could see the fetuses above her, all facing upward. The flesh wall of the cavern looked pocked and chewed. The infants had been trying to escape. "Fascinating," she murmured. "They seem to have died trying to eat their way out. It's unfortunate--they almost made it." She retreated back through the opening. "Cutter, help me with Ensign Relsta. I am going to push her through."

"Here, I'll help," Thyago offered, and gently took the unconscious Denobulan's head as T'Pei fed her through.

"They were probably incapable of withstanding the gamma radiation," Cutter said, staring at his open tricorder.

"Gamma radiation?" Thyago asked.

"From the white dwarf at the center of the nebula," Cutter responded. He noticed Thyago's concerned stare and added, "It's okay. We're standing in the shadow of the fetus. Our level of exposure is not yet dangerous."

"And yet, the Starbeasts all clustered here within the nebula," T'Pei pointed out. "Surely they would not have done so if the radiation would be hostile to their offspring."

"Radiating nebulas are hostile environments in general," Cutter said. "I see no reason for them to come in here at all."

"Planetary nebulas are rich in metals and volitile gases," T'Pei offered.

"Yeah, maybe they came here to eat," Thyago said. "Or, maybe the babies need to eat. I imagine being born works up an appetite."

T'Pei ceased scanning the dead infants momentarily and looked at the engineer with surprise. His comment actually made sense. "That is...logical. If the Starbeasts rely on a high concentration of base molecules for nutrients, this would in many ways make an ideal breeding ground."

"But it's obviously not," Cutter interjected.

"It could be that this planetary nebula resembles their actual breeding grounds. Perhaps the Starbeasts became confused."

"So, uh, they should have gone... sabe? Where?"

"Not here," Cutter spat.

"I am not sure," T'Pei answered, "Perhaps another nebula with similar properties, but without a white dwarf star at its center." She looked up at the starlight shining down on the dead infants. If the breeding ground the Starbeasts needed was not a planetary nebula, what was it? In the hostile environment of space, how many different locations could be nurturing to an infant?

"We should try to contact the ship. There is less shielding tissue impeding the signal," Cutter said, interrupting T'Pei's thoughts.

Thyago paused, waiting for Cutter to follow up on his own suggestion. "Uh, you gonna call there, yo?"

Cutter glared sideways at Thyago, and then tapped his communicator. "Cutter to Galaxy."

"Lieutenant Kara'nin, you've been out of contact since you beamed over!" The voice on the other end responded. "What happened? Are you all all right?"

"We have one injured crewmember," T'Pei interjected. "Can you get a transporter lock on us? We need to be beamed straight to sickbay."

"Yes, Lieutenant. We've got a lock on you now. Prepare for beam out."

Holding Relsta's body steady, T'Pei looked up one last time at the three infant Starbeasts. As the transporter blurred her vision, she couldn't help but think 'What a waste.'

"Expert Assistance"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
And introducing... Lieutenant (J.G.) Gabrielle Watson - Medical Officer (APC
- RobertS)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ USS Galaxy - CMO's Office ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Ops," Burton said to the empty room, "what's the status of the data
transfer?"

<=Nearly complete Doctor. The data stream has a massive amount of complex
information and check software in it,=> the faceless voice from the bridge
replied. <=The Aesculapius is requesting verification checks every
kiloquad... Never seen anyone so paranoid about data accuracy.=>

"With good reason," Kimberly replied softly, watching the screen before her
as the incoming data was routed into the unit that engineering had built.
The data had been transferring now for almost thirty minutes, back and forth
with checks and balances to ensure one hundred percent accuracy.

<=Ops to Doctor Burton. The data transfer is complete and the Aesculapius
is confirming a successful transfer. The entire package should be with you
now.=>

~ Finally! ~ She exclaimed to herself. "Thank you Ops. Burton out."
Tapping the terminal before her she addressed the empty room again,
"Computer, begin a full backup of program Watson Alpha One and transfer to
backup core, then begin pre-start diagnostics."

<=Confirmed=> The emotionless voice acknowledged.

~ For the love of the Goddess hurry 'UP!' ~ Kimberly bitched silently as the
status bar positively crawled across the screen, ~ It'd be nice to get going
sometime today! ~

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes the
computer flagged the backup and diagnostics as complete and the silvery
ovoid floated silently from its cradle and the air shimmered around it. For
a second the shape was indistinct and formless, then the hologram took shape
and her face looked around the room, blinking a few times she took in her
surroundings before focussing on Kimberly.

"Good morning Doctor Burton." She said a little formally.

"Welcome aboard the USS Galaxy Lieutenant Watson," Kimberly replied as she
stood and walked around the desk. She was used to the EMH's they had
aboard, most medical staff were more or less comfortable with them as each
had its own appearance and personality, though none were used on a regular
basis. This hologram though was not exactly an EMH, nor an LMH. Watson had
started out as an EMH prototype, but due to a somewhat curious accident she
had been downloaded into the mind of a junior engineer on the ship she had
been on at the time. The resulting merger had taken around a year to sort
out, and when she had finally been extracted from the mind of the young
Bajoran engineer she had ceased to be 'just' another EMH program.

Cocking her head to one side Watson appeared to be listening to something
for a second then her attention focussed on Kimberly. "The data transfer
appears to have been successful, internal diagnostics show no transcription
errors... Though I would like to point out, I 'hate' travelling that way."
She admitted candidly, "too many things can go wrong."

"I am sorry," Kimberly offered sincerely, "and if the situation didn't
warrant it I wouldn't have asked. But time is of the essence here, and this
way meant you were the closest expert I could call on, and to be honest
given the case I'm dealing with, I would have asked for you anyway. You've
studied the file?" She did want to get to know Watson, and to spend some
time chatting, but as she had said time was somewhat important here. If the
nerves and associated tissues that had been damaged were left too long it
would make the repair all that more difficult, neural apathy, or more
worryingly neural necrosis was not something she wanted to have to tackle as
well.

"Yes Ma'am, I have, and I can understand why you contacted me. The
procedure you have suggested, as noted, needs work. The base theory is
sound though and has the potential to repair most if not all of the damaged
nerves. As you have pointed out however accuracy is the main issue." With
her attention apparently focussed on the rear wall, and her voice flat and
toneless, Kimberly could have assumed that Watson was a typical EMH, but the
CMO of the Aesculapius had warned her about some of Watson's idiosyncrasies.
Looking at her eyes she could see tiny streams of text flowing across them,
and she realised she was reading the procedure files as she spoke.

"The genitronic replicator can easily replicate the spinal sections
required," nodding as Watson continued to speak Kimberly found herself
relaxing a little for the first time since the Captain had been injured,
"and your idea of using the medical transporter to facilitate the
replacement surgery is intriguing. Under normal circumstances I would
caution against such a procedure, but modifying the targeting scanners and
tying them into a neurocortical scanner with subatomic accuracy should allow
for the precision required."

Refocusing her attention on Kimberly Watson raised an eyebrow. "There does
remain one issue though, for the replacement surgery to work properly and
the neural reconnection to succeed, we will have to install a cerebral shunt
to prevent any excess energy from the transport from damaging any other part
of his neural system and, the patient will have to be completely immobile.
Heart and lung function will have to cease for this to work, if he moves
even a micron, it could mean a massive amount of reconnection errors."

Listening to Watson review her plan was, she had to admit, reassuring. Up
to the last part she had more or less confirmed what she had covered
herself. The last though was the worrying part. In the simplest sense, the
Captain had to be dead for this to work, which was not exactly the best
criteria for someone to enter the OR. There were precautions they could
take of course, certain drugs, cryo stabilisation and maybe even a localised
stasis field. Working around restraints was not a problem, and the
immobility only needed to be for the actual beam in. But how long was the
beam in going to take?

"I had considered that myself" Kimberly admitted after a moments thought.
"And I was hoping you might have another idea." Leaning against the desk
she sighed, "In your opinion, what do you think the odds are?" She had done
some projections, and even a few simulations on the holodeck. She had an
idea of the odds but had left that out of her memo to Watson, she wanted her
opinion with no bias.

Thinking a moment Watson let part of her mind do the math while she studied
the CMO. She looked tired, which was understandable at the moment, having
the Captain critically injured while there was a war going on was never
good, morale would suffer and there would be a lot of pressure to get good
news out to the crew. She'd read up on the Galaxy of course before
transmitting herself here, its records and logs spoke of many strange
encounters and adventures, but for the Captain to be injured while on his
own bridge was never good.

Speaking up after a second she softened her tone as she answered, "With the
procedure as it stands right now, I would have to honestly say no better
than fifty-fifty." Seeing the agreeing nod from Burton she decided that the
CMO had her own figures but had simply wanted confirmation. "We can
increase those odds though, those numbers are based on you performing the
procedure as it stands right now. With my assistance and further work, I
estimate we may be able to push that to a seventy, maybe eighty percent
chance of success."

"I'd prefer a number in the high nineties," Kimberly said wistfully, but
then she knew that even eighty percent odds were exceptional with a
procedure this complex. "I'm sorry to have to put you straight to work, but
as I'm sure you understand, time is of the essence."

Nodding Gabrielle silently agreed, "How are the crew handling it?"

"There's a lot of concern as you might expect, a lot of worried crew.
Morale has suffered as you'd expect." Indicating the door Kimberly led the
way out of the office, "one of my senior NCO's has set up a sort of informal
guard post on the main ward, he's been helpful in stopping a lot of people
stopping by to find out how the Captain is doing... As soon as I have
something to tell them I will, but until then we really don't need a flood
of people in and out of sickbay. Must remember to thank him later," she
added with a slight smile.

Leading the way past the main ward she led Watson to a turbolift, "That
office is set up for you by the way, it's yours for as long as you're with
us. And Ops are setting up some quarters for you."

"Thank you Ma'am." Raising an eyebrow she looked around, "Where is Captain
M'Kantu?" She asked curiously as they got on the lift.

"First off, it's Kimberly okay." She offered, warming somewhat to the
holographic doctor, "and the Captain is in a side ward," angling a thumb in
the direction of the closing doors, "but I've co-opted holodeck four for my
simulations, I have a live link to sickbay so we have real time updates of
the Captains condition. We can work there and still monitor him.
Engineering have installed or upgraded the equipment I asked for, and we can
check the calibrations on the holodeck. Any changes we make are logged and
a team will see to them. You ready to go to work?"

"Holodeck four." Gabrielle said in reply, sending the lift on its way.

<tbc...>

"Hydran Jailhouse Blues"

Marine Captain Man'darr Miavia
Lt. Branwen London,
Corporal So'kal
Warrant Officer Sandra Gates
Prisoner Six-Six-Gamma "William Thrace"
Sergeant Tabica Inari
"The Wretch"

Hydran POW Facility/Lab, Location Unknown
=================================

Sounds of heavy doors opening all at once sounded through the large,
complex prison as two heavily armed squads of guards escorted the
prisoners to an open courtyard surrounded by tall, massive walls, an
overhead forcefield and security weapon systems installed on each wall,
capable of covering the entire area if needed. The Warden had decided
to allow the prisoners some time out of their cells. He knew they
would need this rest for what was to come next for majority of them.
Man'darr slowly walked out into the courtyard with the other
prisoners. Being kept in solitary confinement, the only other persons
he saw were the guards.

Crouched on the oily slate-tiled ground, a thin, haggard figure
watched the Capellan and his escort arrive. The Wretch made no sound,
merely swaying back and forth on the pads of his feet as the Hydrans
watched their prize catch .

~Ah... the big man himself~, he mused.~Looks impressive enough... but
does he hate them enough? Hasn't been
here long enough... I doubt it.~

The internal monologue was the only
conversation the Wretch had for months, as his captors asked no
questions. From time to time his thoughts became verbal as the
threshold between his thoughts and his reality eroded but now, seeing
pale blue sunlight for the first time in a year, he felt more in
control of what was left of his psyche than ever before. "Perhaps...
today if I'm lucky, I'll remember my name." The words croaked past
cracked lips, and the Wretch was shocked to hear his own voice over
the noisy steps of both guards and prisoners on the hard slate.

Prisoner Six Gamma or "William Thrace" as he was once able to call
himself, followed at a discrete distance from the other, more newer
POWs that the Hydrans had brought in. Six-Gamma had a strange feeling
that today might be different then the other ones.

Tabica wanted more than anything to get out of their current
situation. Her time here so far had been something better described as
a nightmare. It was something she wanted to forget and to escape from.
When the guards Finally let go of the female marine her legs gave way
beneath her and she hit the ground rather ungracefully.

Corporal So'kal and Warrant Officer Sandra Gates were the next two to
enter the prison's 'exercise' grounds, the latter being hauled in and
unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the grounds, still cradling
herself and sobbing from the wretched ordeal of her interrogation. She
realized just how fortunate she had been watching everyone else get
picked over her for 'questioning, but every one's luck ran out. The
Vulcan Marine had clearly seen better days himself, although he was
likewise far calmer and more analytical about the situation than his
compatriots might be. The first thing he did was start taking a head
count, and he immediately saw that Lieutenant London and his fellow
enlistee were both missing. The next question might have been far less
than 'logical' to ask. "Is anyone injured?"

At that moment Branwen was brought in by guards, and almost gently
placed on on the ground. After that the guards took a couple of steps
back, but did not leave.

The hairs on the back of Six-Gamma's neck went up as a low growl
escaped his throat as he saw the two Hydrans as they put the human
woman down on the ground. He snarled a little bit before he turned to
look at the other newer POWs.

Man'darr immediately approached Branwen upon seeing her placed on the
ground. "Branwen?!"

The guards immediately leveled their weapons at Man'darr. "Do not
come any closer, Capellan."

Man'darr's fists were clinched tightly as he glared at the two guards.

"Stay back, Dar." Bran ordered. She had a feeling that the guards
would kill anyone who came too close. And she didn't want him to know
what had happened. He would go insane if he found out the truth. "I am
fine." She lied.

"Fine is a relative term", the crouched figure said, croaking in a
dry, water-starved voice. You're all new here, so your naiveté can be
forgiven… but you've still got flesh on your bones, and I can see some
arrogant will of resistance in your eyes. They haven't starved it out
of you yet.

The Wretch stood, and ribs grinned through the rags he had on. The
human was tall, and judging from the bone size of his frame may have
had some muscle on him at one time, but hunger had long since removed
it. His arms and legs were unnaturally thin, and the skin on his face
so lean that almost every tooth in his mouth was visible with his lips
closed. He swayed as he stood, as if the effort would almost be the
last he ever made, but his bloodshot eyes remained steady, and burned
an icy blue. "There is a secret to resisting though… if you've got
the stomach for it."

"What is that?" Man'darr asked angrily.

"Hate", the Wretch offered, then giggled like a drunken man. "Their
adepts in the Inquisition have psyche talents, and they hate the
emotion. Oh, they'll punish you for it… and it'll hurt, but there's a
certain amount of satisfaction to be gained from it. Wait… you'll
see."

Man'darr turned his attention back on the guards and Branwen. "If you
were fine, you would not be lying on the ground." Anger and hatred
filled the large Capellan as his veins enlarged with the extra blood
and his muscles tense.

"Because I am tired, Dar." She said quietly. "It's okay, hon. Don't
worry about me." Bran tried to sit up to show him there was nothing to
worry. But the surgery and the rest that had been done to her took a
toll on her body.

In response to Man'darr's apparently increasing aggressive stance, the
guards increased the power levels on their weapons. If they were
antique human weapons, one would think they just took the safeties
off. And they were both all business right about now.

Six-Gamma stood between the large Capellan and the guards before
letting a low growl escape his lips-daring the guards to shoot him
instead of the larger man as he continued to glare at the guards, his
primary ears flattened against the top of his head.

In a surprisingly deft and fluid movement (for someone the size and
bulk of a Hydran), one of the guards quickly but forcefully brought
the broadside of his weapon to bear and smacked Six-Gamma squarely
across the chest and head to send him sailing. In response, the
second guard quickly sidestepped right and back a couple of steps to
cover his partner. Clearly, they were not taking any chances.

Man'darr continued to glare down into the Hydran Guard. Every
instinct told him to kill the Hydran that stood before him. Yet, he
could not take the risk of killing Branwen. "Your death is near
Hydran. I suggest you prepare for it," Man'darr said through clinched
teeth.

Turning as another female known as Corporal Beckett was shoved through
the doors and into the yard.

Man'darr turned to look at the those in the yard. Many had been under
his command. And as senior officer, he was responsible for them. The
females seemed to be in the worst shape. It not only pained him but
infuriated him that those under his command were being hurt.

At the moment Tabica didn't want to look at anyone. She knew that
saying something would lead to things she didn't want to face. Of
course she knew there was no hope unless they could find away out.
That seemed to be nonexistent option at best.

"Please, everybody." Lieutenant London said. "Stay as far away from
me as possible. I don't know why." She lied. "But these guards have
orders to kill anybody who touches me. So that's an order from me.
Look after yourselves." Of course she could not order her husband
around, she could only hope that his commonsense won out.

Six-Gamma sat up, bleeding from a spot on the side of his head where
the weapon broke skin. "What's the matter, whelpling, afraid to hit
like a real warrior?!" Six-Gamma snarled in Hydran at the guard who
had struck him. Six-Gamma stood up the rest of the way, The fact that
he was a Cheltari Salusian helped a little as he walked over to where
the other female prisoner was and helped her to her feet gently.

Three more Hydran guards who were a bit more heavily armed entered the
'pen' area, taking up flanking positions to the guards who were with
Branwen. One of the newcomers barked orders in Hydran, the rest of
the guards blorping acknowledgement and setting weapons to higher
settings. For those who did not speak Hydran, they were not
immediately aware that orders were augmented to kill on sight anyone
who approaches Lieutenant London. Apparently someone from higher up
just made her the top of the food chain amongst the other POW's.

"Take me out of here!" Branwen said to the guards. She could see
that the presence of all those bodyguards was unsettling the others.
And they did not get too many chances to be together and discuss plans
of escape. Branwen did not want to ruin that. "I am not feeling well.
I need to be indoors." It was likely the best argument to get the
guards to move her.

The guards looked at each other by bending one eyestalk in the
direction of their leader, the others. The lead guard spoke into a
communicator, got a blorping as a response, then signaled the two
guards nearest Branwen. The two picked her up, and 'guided' her out
to the entrance to.

The lieutenant was extremely relieved. She took another look at her
husband, her friends and fellow marines. She couldn't say anything,
but hoped they understood the hint, and that they would find a way out
for themselves. Branwen began to follow the guards back inside.

Man'darr was furious at Branwen's condition. He knew that she was
lying to him--but about what, he wasn't sure. He watched the guards
until the doors closed before turning to the group. "How is
everyone?"

"I'm doing OK, sir," Beckett replied.

Six Gamma looked at Man'darr. "So, who are you anyways? From the way
that you're handling things it seems like your somekind of officer or
some shit like that." Six Gamma said in a questioning tone. "Unlike
that one" Six Gamma said indicating the Wretch, "I've managed to hold
on a little bit better. At least I can still remember my name." Six
Gamma said.

"I am Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia. And watch that tone of yours,"
Man'darr said, leveling his gaze down at the figure.

"True", the Wretch agreed looking at the wound on Six's scalp. "But
I've been here far, far longer than any of you. Maybe you'll be like
me soon... or not. The group from Corvallis lasted a while... but
they're all gone now. Nowhere near as large or resilient as you
fellows - you should last a lot longer! I hope you do! Resistance of
that kind angers them, and I like to see them angry. You..." the
Wretch pointed a thin, swollen-jointed finger at Man'Darr. "You make
them angry... and nervous! I like that! But that creature over
there...", the starving man pointed at Branwen. "It makes them very
pleased. Ecstatic almost Why I wonder... not that it matters."

The Wretch gave a twitching, manic giggle and began to dance amongst
his fellow prisoners. The movements lacked any kind of grace or
fluidity, and was made even more awkward by the human's condition -
starvation had made his knees and elbows swollen against the thinness
of his arms and legs. Still, he laughed and danced, and sang a tune
in a language no other prisoner had ever heard before.

L'djâ'ada kûdju's Lû Q!ô'na l'nagâ'-i ya'kAlsî'ga L gaya'oga
sgaqô'nga-lîña's Lû'hao L djâ'adaga-i!

L'djâ'ada kûdjû'sgu Lga-i gA'nLa-i ge'istA L! sî'qîgAñ[ga]
qa-ixuna'ñ-lîña's Lû'hao L djâadâ'ga!

At the final exclamation, the wretch stood on his toes and reached a
thin, birdlike arm over the Hydran guards and placed a greasy index
finger squarely in the middle of Branwen's forehead leaving a dark
grey smudge.

Curiously the guards surrounding the marine didn't act
immediately, instead casting one of their eyestalks towards their
superior. A single, untranslatable chitter came from the overseer
and the guards went to work. Two trained their fusion rifles at the
remaining prisoners while the third whipped its foremost tentacle at
the wretch, catching him on his ribcage below his left arm. A healthy
man would have taken the blow with some pain, but the impact thrust
the thin man airborne, slamming against the light-gray granite walls
of the prison compound. The guard waddled over the prone form and
proceeded to whip the Wretch with all tentacles, leaving thick welts
over the man's body, splitting his lips and breaking his teeth.

When the guard was done she waddled back a few paces, sucking gulps of
air through her beak from the effort, but shuddered as the Wretch
continued to laugh weakly.

"Heh....hfff...hkkk... you see... I've called... their bluff! Let's
see... what you... can... kfff... do!"

"Covered in Ooze"

Corporal Cianan Tierney
J. Andrus Suder, apc
Samantha Widdlestein, npc

****

Starbeast

*****

After someone had finally come to check on them, and a little help
from the transporter filtering them out from the ooze, Andrus and
Samantha had finally gotten free.

Of course, that didn't stop Samantha from promptly going out on her
own. Again. Sadly, as her guardian, Andy had been obliged to follow.

Now they were lost again and the only thing that kept him going was
the thought of delivering her safely to the Widdlesteins and then
locking himself in his library for the duration of his time on Galaxy.

"Sam, I'm begging you," He said. "Please stop singing 100 puddles of
ooze on the wall."

"It's that or Britney again, buddy," the girl replied in a cranky voice.

Cianan wasn't certain how he got there. He replayed the last few
moments in his mind wondering where he went wrong. The marine was
taking readings of the starbeast's circulatory system. He potentially
miscalculated the remaining systolic pressure of the dead creature and
managed to get himself stuck between what would in a human be a nerve
synapse and artery.

His attempt to free himself proved more difficult. The Angosian
managed to stimulate a semi-active synapse causing it to fire
neurotransmitters. The electro-chemical reaction literally fused him
to the artery. After attempting to extricate himself he managed to get
lodged even more tightly as though a python was wrapped around him.

"Shit," The marine swore. He'd never hear the end of it. There was
only one thing to do.

"Help!"

"Hold your horses," a girl's voice called. "We're almost there."

Cianan didn't want to hold his horses. It was an uncompromising and
rather embarrassing position. "Seems to have autonomic responses after
it's dead. This sucks...literally." The arterial pressure was sucking
plasma.

"Yeah? Well at least you weren't oozed, Science Boy," Samantha called back.

Cianan raised an eye brow. He had never been called Science Boy
before. He wasn't sure if he liked it. The medic grabbed his med kit
and searched inside, finding a small laser scalpel. He attempted to
release the pressure. The consequence was a bit of internal bleeding
which stopped quickly. The thing was dead after all.

"Ooze suits you." The Angosian said, extracting himself from the wall
of the artery. He wasn't exactly clean anymore.

"Well, you look like a targ pit," Samantha shot back before Andy shushed her.

"Are you all right?" Andy asked the other man.

Cianan nodded, "Uh, yeah." He wasn't comfortable around the telepath.
He wasn't sure how he managed to keep bumping into them in more than
unusual circumstances. First, the Commander - who was pinned to the
mat after a sparring match. Then the Counselor - who was knocked
unconscious with a round house kick to the jaw. The marine looked at
Suder and wondered how long it would be until he was draped on the
floor. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

He looked at Samantha, "I guess that's a compliment. Are you done in
this area? There are some interesting readings ahead."

"Ooh, let's go!"

Andy instantly forgot the level of discomfort he was sensing from the
other man and gaped at Sam. "What? Did you forget about being stuck in
ooze for nearly four hours?"

Samantha shook her head. "Live in the now, Andrus."

Andy bit back several impressive curses.

****

"So how do you know Brian?" Andy said conversationally.

Cianan's right eye raised at the question. "Brian? Um, he's the
Counselor I guess. He's helping me sort through some things." It was
far more than that and Cianan was hesitant to admit it. He nearly
admitted secrets when they managed to be wrangled onto a duo away
team. It ended in a bit of disaster with Cianan clocking Brian in the
jaw with this right foot. "I seem to to carry a little baggage,"
Cianan tapped his temple. "He's been helping me how to get rid of some
of it. Why do you ask?"

"You're being a little loud," The Betazoid replied with a tap to his
temple. "I don't mean to pry but I know him so ..."

"The benefit of being an Angosian." Cianan said. "How long have you
known Bri...the Counselor?" It was an almost surreal conversation.
Cianan was uncomfortable, but something inside him kept going.

"Awhile now," Andy replied, trying to sort through what was being sent
his way. "Did you ... hit him?"

There was enough annoyance from being stuck for several hours, plus
Cianan's own emotions, that the idea almost made Andy smile. Plus he
was too exhausted to be offended on Brian's behalf.

Damn telepaths. "Did he tell you?" Before getting a response Cianan
continued, "There was an altercation and he was knocked unconscious."
Cianan and Brian agreed to let what happened go in the past, even
after the quasi-inquisition by the Chief Medical Officer. The guilt in
the marine was palpable.

"It's a tumor." Cianan said nonchalantly at a mass six meters in front
of them. "Or at least what we might call a tumor." The mass had grown
on the inside of the beast's tissue. The tumor was still active,
feeding off the dead matter around it.

"Gross," Samantha piped up as she skipped back in the room. "Maybe we
should get going before it inevitably explodes."

"You wouldn't want any more crap to coat you." Cianan said raising an
eye with an attempt at humor. For some reason Cianan had the
impression that there was more to Andrus and Brian and it stirred in
the pit of Cianan's stomach. "But I agree. We've got the most we can
out of the readings here. We should take some samples back to the ship
for more analyses."

"I'm just the chaperon," Andy said, shaking his head. He was much more
interested in finding out more about Cianan and Brian's altercation
but now wasn't really the time. Especially in front of nosy Samantha
Widdlestein. "I'm not touching any more of this ship than I have to."

Cianan nodded. "We could attempt to use the bio-filter to remove any
remains of the creature that you're trying to bring back to the ship."
He added, "Either that or spend some quality bonding time in isolation
while getting cleaned up."

Epilogue

(written by Chad, Eric, and Kat)

"Acting Captain's Log, Stardate 60804.07.

"Our three days are up, and we have been ordered to depart the nebula
and return to Deep Space Four. It seems that, for the time being, DS4
is to be our new home base.

"From our perspective the mission was a success. We were able to
study four adult Starbeast corpses, and the amount of data we obtained
should keep the Science department busy for quite some time. In
particular, we were able to witness the birth of a baby Starbeast,
with a little help from some of the Vanguards in an improvised
Ceasarean section. Oddly enough the baby was actually incubating in
the body of a male before it was born; the prevailing theory at the
moment is that the fetus is implanted in the male, which it then feeds
on during the final stages of gestation. I can't say I've ever heard
of such a thing before, but...that's ultimately why we're out here, to
seek out new life.

"We're not quite sure why the Starbeasts were in this area in the
first place, or why the Hydrans suddenly seemed so much less
interested in us once they discovered the Starbeasts inside the
nebula. Lieutenant Kara'nin has theorized that the Starbeasts were
feeding off something found in the nebula, but hasn't yet concluded
whether it's a particular element, or compound, or just the
environment of the nebula in general.

"As for the Hydrans...

"Our interrogation teams are steadily working their way through the
prisoners. Some of them have given us useful information, some have
been quite stubborn, while others seem to be, well, insane." Iniara
paused, thinking back to the report she'd read on the one named
Thulkuh. "We knew that the Hydrans viewed the Starbeasts as some sort
of deities, and that gives them a good reason for pursuing the
Starbeasts into the Kateren Nebula. But whether they were there to
worship them, or kill them, or something else entirely, isn't
immediately clear.

"So, for the time being, we'll continue our interrogations and
continue to analyze the data we gathered on the Starbeasts. With
luck, we'll be able to better defend ourselves the next time we meet
in battle.

"End log."

Iniara entered her thumbprint ID, then passed the padd to her yeoman,
who was standing patiently nearby. As he moved towards the turbolift,
Iniara took a moment to survey the bridge. Everything it seemed was
back in order; all the physical damage had been repaired, and everyone
who had been injured in the melee had since returned to duty.

Well, nearly everyone...

On the main viewer, the edge of the Kateren nebula was still visible,
the swirling colors of the gases providing a welcome break from the
monotony of empty space. Iniara shifted in her seat as she watched
the display, uncrossing and recrossing her legs as she relaxed into
the center seat's embrace. In the back of her mind she wondered how
long she would need to remain in this chair. On the one hand, the job
was getting a little bit easier every day. But, on the other hand,
she wasn't CO material, and she knew deep down that this was not where
she was meant to be.

"Sir, Jacmel and Vigilant report that they are ready for departure,"
the young Ensign at Ops called out, snapping Iniara from her reverie.

Iniara coughed once and blinked several times, her eyes refocusing on
her surroundings. "Understood. Helm, plot a course for Deep Space
Four, warp five."

The Vulcan lieutenant nodded crisply, fingers tapping efficiently at
her console. "Aye, sir. Course plotted and laid in."

"Engage."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hidden eyes watched as the Galaxy turned and moved away from the
Kateren Nebula and the four corpses of the starbeasts. They waited
anxiously for several hours until the ship and her companion fleet
entered warp and were moving away at greater than the speed of light.
They waited until the ships were far enough away that their sensors
would not detect the eyes once they were revealed.

And then, the eyes turned to their magnificent prize. Four glorious starbeasts.

They were dead, true, but what did that mean in the grand scheme of
things? Death was simply a cessation of electrical impulses. A pause
in major metabolic functions.

Sparks of electricity could be reignited. The gears of metabolism
could be forced to turn again. Death could be fixed.

The small ship decloaked, forming a shadow in the glowing nebula, like
a tumor on an x-ray. It glided towards one of the beasts, the
freshest, and hovered above it. On the bottom surface, a door slid
open and a single T'Kith'Kin hopped out, passed slowly through the
open space, and landed on the hard skin of the beast. With its many,
thin, spindly legs, it latched on to a single large scale and bent
down. In its arms, it held a small zettawatt pulse laser, aimed at
the skin of the starbeast. Once activated, it burned a tiny line into
the near-impenetrable scales, and vaporized flesh boiled up into the
vacuum of space and faded into the nebula's plasma.

As the single T'Kith'Kin completed his circular cut, the ship tossed
out a small tether, with a metallic cylinder at the end. The soldier
grabbed it, and aimed. A rocket fired from the canister, launching a
harpoon into the scale at over 25 kilometers per second. Even then,
it barely went deep enough to get a solid grip. Once used, the
canister cracked in two, freeing the tether. The ship pulled back and
the cut scale pulled away from the corpse, along with a five meter
long core of dermal layer.

The T'Kith'Kin looked up as his final work passed above him. Then, he
finally succumbed to the ionizing plasma and intense radiation. As he
died, his legs lost their grip, and he slowly floated out into space.

>From the door on the ship's ventrum, another T'Kith'Kin hopped out and
floated through space towards the starbeast. He landed, and like a
roach, scattered into the newly cut cave. He was followed by a
second, then a third, and a fourth. They were scientists. Doctors.
Monsters on a mad quest to create life for their hive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, deep within the bowels of the USS Galaxy, the power monitor
protocols noted an explosion; one of the EPS Step Down relays had lost
containment. The appropriate procedures were enacted, shutting down
the upstream for that stepdown, sealing the nearest available
downstream segment, rerouting plasma from other stepdowns to make up
for the lost component, and notifying the Engineering crews that
damage was sustained and repairs were needed.

upon reaching the site of the damage, one would find two things
peculiar, if one were observant. First, the EPS Step Down Relay that
had gone up was practically brand new, one of those units that had
required replacing due to the battle with the Hydrans and Starbeasts.
The second item of note would be the scorched remains of what looked
like a mechanical hairball, for all intents and purposes "An Authentic
Toy Tribble! Safe for the office and fun with all the kiddies!"

"The Final Lesson"- Prologue

****

She refuses to look away and I almost smile.

It was one of the first lessons that I ever taught her - not to look
away - and I'm glad that she has remembered even after all these
years.

She doesn't look away and she doesn't touch me, even though I know
that she wants to. Her hands remain in her lap, far away from me,
which does make me chuckle.

Well, almost. My lips twitch slightly, the best I can manage at the
moment, and the raspy noise that I make is more of a wheeze but still
... I am amused by this non-action.

If I weren't saving my words, I would compliment her on being intelligent.

Holding my hands wouldn't do much good anyway; I can barely feel them.
But when you're dying painfully, you don't complain when you start to
feel numb. Or at least I'm not going to.

I stare at the bruise darkening on her cheek and wonder how she'll explain it.

I focus on her lips, wishing that she wouldn't compress them into a thin line.

I look into her eyes and wish they weren't fighting back tears. I have
seen her cry before but even now it wrenches something from me,
something that I've never wished to share.

Compassion, I think. Maybe empathy. Both are dangerous for a man in my
line of work and both are more than a little humorous now, given the
circumstances. I've never been a touchy-feely sort of person but I
feel an insane urge to comfort her in my final hour.

Strange and yet our relationship has never been what one would call normal.

"Won't be long," I manage, trying to make it appear that my dying is
nothing, like I do it everyday, and sometimes once more after dinner.

She moves her hand towards me and then stops herself. Emotions flicker
across her face and again I feel pity. She wants to call for someone
and knows that she can't. She wants to touch me and knows that she
shouldn't.

As a professional, I know that I should do everything in my power to
get her to change her mind but I can't get past the fact that she
refuses to look away.

I am proud of her, as twisted as that may be.

We sit in silence for some time before she works up the nerve to ask
me what I know she's wanted to ask for awhile now.

"Is your name really Daro Cole?"

I decide to be honest because when you're dying you feel the need to be honest.

"No," I say.

I don't tell her my real name, though, because there are some things
that you have to keep to yourself, even when dying. Besides, I have a
few questions of my own.

"Are you sorry that you've killed me?"

There is a pause while she considers and then she shakes her head.

"No," Ella Grey tells me.

"Back to Business"

Lt Chris Daniels, Acting Chief Tactical Officer

Ens. Mique'lan Dar'ce, Tactical Officer

Chris' Quarters
===============

It felt good to finally be wearing something other than the generic blue hospital gown that Chris
had been in for the last few days in Sickbay. Staring at himself in the mirror, it felt almost
foreign to be sporting the Starfleet uniform again. Despite his parole from sickbay, a reminder
was left on his wrist in the form of the regenerative cuff. With it on, it supported his wrist to
allow normal activities. When taken off, such as to put his uniform on over it, he received a
friendly reminder that, despite his return to duty, he was still technically in "rehab." Not that
it made any matter to him...it was time to get back to what he was good at.

***
Deck 11, Random Corridor

Now that he was finished with his piece of the interrogation puzzle, Mique'lan was glad to be
getting back to his actual job, and that was being a tactical officer. Interrogation was
technically a responsibility held by Security and Intelligence, though the ensign understood the
heightened need due to the large number of POWs. Still, it was good to be going back to the CIC,
where the day to day activities of the Tactical Department were carried out.

***
CIC, Deck 11

Thankfully, there was no fanfare on his arrival. He didn't feel that it was worthy of
celebrating, and the crew was still in the middle of a mission. Looking down from the raised deck
of the entryway, he observed what a good tactical crew did so well: their job. Aside from a few
dings that would have to be patched back in dock, the CIC was at full capacity.

Eventually, he was noticed and people started to come to welcome him back as he walked towards the
central holotable. He stopped and gave each of them a quick hello...they knew his style...not much
joking around on duty, there was time for that after work. After a few minutes, he made his was to
the center of the CIC, and found a few of the officers and senior NCOs huddled around.

Ensign Dar'ce walked into the CIC, noticing that the Chief had returned to active duty. He was
around the central table, huddled with the senior most officers in the room. Mique'lan checked the
roster on the wall, and, without much noise or commotion, made his way to the console to which he
was assigned. There was much ado about the Starbeasts, and trying to find tactically sound ways of
destroying or stopping them, short of exploding a warp drive in their mouths.

There were only so many ships in the fleet, after all.

"The Away teams and probes have been feeding us a lot of technical data, and I think you've seen
most of our after action reports..." Lt Yuuri, the Senior Analyst, reported, handing over a PADD.
"Nothing too new has come out of it though."

"The battle didn't take too much of a toll on our weapons load." Lt Marq'uals, the Weapons Control
Officer, said. "Torpedo reserves are at 15% and we blew out a phaser relay on Battery 3, but
Engineering will have it back up by the end of the week."

Chris nodded and stared at the holotable. He looked at the PADD and then turned back to the table,
which was displaying a looping animation of the battle, and on the other side, the current
geography of the area they were current in. Chris crossed his arms and looked at Yuuri.

"So what you're telling me is that aside from the Starbeast, there is no legitimate reason we can
find as to why the Hydrans penetrated this far into our space?"

Yuuri paused a moment. "No."

While Ensign Dar'ce worked on a particularly mundane problem with the targeting sensors, he
noticed one of the more senior tactical officers pointing at him. As he heard his name, he saved
the progress he had made, and secured the console.

"Ensign Dar'ce." It was Lt Taylor, one of the louder voices in the Tactical Department. "Can you
come over here please?"

Mique'lan walked quickly to the central console, not entirely sure what was up. He was in no mood
to be using his telepathy today; after the interrogations the past few days, he was mentally
drained. He would have to be surprised today.

As Mique'lan walked towards them, Chris slowly turned around to face him. "Ensign." He
acknowledged him with a nod of the head. "The staff here tells me you've been doing a bang-up job
interrogating our Hydran guests. Care to give us a rundown of anything that may be pertinent to
us?"

Mique'lan barely knew where to begin. Luckily, he had backed up all of his reports on the tactical
database, and so was able to call them up quickly at the master console. This of course was for
the other officers' benefit, since the Ensign had a photographic memory, quite common on his
planet.

"The tactical veracity of most of the information I received is nominal at best. However, I did
get a few gems that might help in a ship-to-ship battle." The ensign called up an image of a
Hydran carrier of the same class that the Galaxy had just defeated. "This ship is very powerful,
but if you look at these highlighted areas, you will see various hull stress points and weak
shield configurations."

Mique'lan pointed out the various sections, then to one in particular. "If you look here, and
cross reference it with a schematic that the marines have sent over, you'll notice that there is a
power junction just inside the outer hull. Now, under normal circumstances, this junction could be
damaged and the ship would still be viable, but under alert conditions, this junction has three
times the normal power running through it, powering shield substations across three decks."

Pointing out the structural stress point just below the power junction, Ensign Dar'ce said
finally, "The shields are weak here, and the hull is weak too. I'm sure it is just a design flaw
that was overlooked, or considered a low priority in the upgrade process. However, if we were to
target this area repeatedly, possibly as few as two direct torpedo impacts could cause an overload
in the junction, creating a cascade power failure, dropping the shields on the starboard side of
the ship."

He waited while the others absorbed the information, and came up with questions of their own.

Chris listened and took in the information, rubbing his chin in thought. "That's good stuff
Ensign. Make sure it gets added to our after action report ASAP. Did they mention anything about
why they came all the way to Delta? Why the Starbeasts were there or how they got them there?
Anything like that?"

Mique'lan pulled up another starchart, with a course overlaid, and zeroed in on their present
location in the Kataren Nebula. "The Starbeasts natural migration seems to have been upset,
probably because so many Hydrans are hunting them. In fact, these Hydrans came here for the
explicit purpose of killing a starbeast, without regard to the war we are fighting with them. It
apparently did not even cross their minds that they were entering Federation space so close to a
member system, or that we would probably try to counter their invasion attempt, since that is not
the reason they were here at all."

Chris crinkled his nose at that information. The rest of the division chiefs all looked around at
each other.

"And this information was confirmed by more than one Hydran?" asked Lt Yuuri.

“Yes, though I received little information from the hunter sect, since they are tight-lipped on
the subject. I was called an interloper more than once, and it was apparent that they did not
appreciate us interfering in their hunt.”

Chris grunted quietly. Now he had his arms crossed, a discernable look of distaste on his face.

"Thank you Ensign, that'll be all. If you could go wait out by my office for a minute, I'd like to
talk to you a little more."
“Aye, sir.” One did not have to be a telepath to see the doubt emanating from this group, but
Mique’lan let it go and went to the office as instructed.

---

Chris looked around at the rest of the assembly. Their looks all said the same thing.

"You buy it Chief?" Asked Lt Taylor.

Chris shook his head. "Not sure...but I don't like it. Hydrans aren't that reckless typically.
But I doubt they'd have that much time to come up with that story and pass it around..." He put
his hands on the holotable and looked around. "Nyoko, I want everything on the why's of that
battle analyzed and reanalyzed. Get the electronic intelligence people to turn over what they have
and see if the passive sensors picked up any indication that the Hydrans knew we were waiting for
them. Everybody else, I want to run a drill in the next day...these bastards could be back any
minute." The chiefs nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get returned to official duty
and take care of some other things first."

---

ACTO's office
-------------

Mique’lan heard the footsteps and turned to see Lt. Daniels walking towards the office.

Chris walked in and waved and Dar'ce to follow him in. Chris motioned to the ensign to take the
seat in front of his deck. Chris opted to lean against the wall.

"That's some good work you did, Ensign. Whoever trained you did a good job. I heard that you
performed well during the battle as well."

Mique’lan had always been taught to accept praise and admonishment with the same humility. “Thank
you, sir. I try to do my job above my own expectations. I often fail, but I do keep trying.”

Chris smirked. "So how confident are you that those Hyrdans we're pulling one over on you with
that information about how they didn't consider us when they came here?"

“I would bet my commission on it, sir. There were a few that had a bit of training blocking
telepathy, but not many. Their surface thoughts were enough to convince me of what they were
saying. All in all, most people, no matter what race they are, are horrible liars.”

Chris nodded. "That's good. But consider this a tactical lesson, not an admonition or anything.
What you're telling me doesn't jive with what we've seen of the Hydrans before. I respect your
opinion...but also don't forget to check your intelligence against what has already been
previously established. That being that the Hydrans are very smart enemies, and given what we've
seen of them...they knew exactly what they were doing when they crossed the border and wouldn't
have expected us to just do nothing. They may have been half-truthing you."

“That is probably quite true. Perhaps they knew we would respond, but thought we might leave when
we saw they were engaged with the star beast. I was not given orders that would allow me to do
deep probing of their thoughts, so I cannot give you a definite answer on that conclusion.”

Chris smiled ever so slightly. The guy had conviction...and in their business, that was a good
thing. He thought for a moment, crossing his arms. "Alright, Mique'lan, here's the deal. I want
you qualified working a shift at combat control by yourself at the end of the month. You're
showing progress and I'd like you to get your first watch qualification so I can start advancing
you further. But in the near term, I want you to consider this your clearance to use whatever
legal means available to try and draw out all the information you can from out guests pertaining
to what tactical information they know. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. Any
questions?"

“Just an observation. We’ll be leaving the nebula shortly, so I’ll have until we get to Deep Space
4 to get what information I can. Intelligence is sending a team straight from headquarters to do
further interrogations, I would guess, since this is the largest group of POWs captured so far in
this war. And I imagine I’ll be working with Lt. Taylor at Combat Control?”

Chris nodded. "He's the division chief so you'll be working a lot with him...but you'll be
learning from everyone working that station, officer and enlisted. Until we get back to DS4 I
want you focusing on those interrogations. Get as much as you can in the time you have. Anything
else?" Dar'ce shook his head.

"Alright, good work Ensign, you're dismissed. I have to get released by the XO for duty, but first
I have some...other business to attend to."

"Daddy's Girl"

Starring

James Corgan

Allison von Ernst

(might be a bit out of date, my bad...not Dallas's fault)

Allison von Ernst was dressed to the nines.

Long blond hair brushed back into a spray of golden sparkles…….ice

blue eyes bright and full of hope……pale Nordic cheekbones sprinkled with a

dusting of light glitter, and nervous lips bravely carrying a winning smile.

~~~This is stupid….This is stupid.~~~ she thought to herself.

She was out of uniform for once. She wore a breezy little skirt cut

from a happy floral pattern, and her thin legs were thrust into bright

candy-striped stockings that really set off her stylish shoes.

Atop it all however was the Pink T-shirt that was a last minute

addition to the ensemble.

>DADDY's GIRL<

….it read in bright sparkling letters.

Mary Poppins had tsk'd at the blatant shirt, but offered no real

resistance to Allison's determination.

If the young 'un was gonna go and stir up trouble, well that was her look out.

Stirring up trouble was exactly what Allison was about to do as she

paused in front of the private quarters of one James Lionel

Corgan………or as she liked to call him……Dad.

Taking a nervous breath, and stealing a guilty glance up and down the

corridor she reached out a well manicured finger and rang the buzzer……

~~~This is stupid…..this is stupid…~~~

James Corgan, fresh out of the medbay and forced on medical leave,

was going crazy in the confines of his own quarters.

So he was outside of his den, doing his mandatory jogging exercises

around his deck's hallways.

One would normally ask what a crazy git like James Corgan was doing

running around the decks, but it was in actuality a commonplace practice.

Ever since the early days of space travel all exercise had to be done in the

hallways, not enough room for much more than a stationary bike and some

weights in the commons room, if the ship was lucky, so you jogged the

same tedious lap until you were exercised. If you only had a few meters...

jog those few meters repeatedly.

James sick of doing laps in a starship that had kilometers of hallways to jog.

He could sympathize with those early space pioneers.

But there was a decent holodeck, with any environment he wanted. Why not

go there? Well, there was the resources. Holodecks take power and time.

Power was easy, a timeslot ideal for a jog was not. If it wasn't used for group

exercises it was for training, then if you were lucky the rest of the time was

given to recreational use, and that had a long queue.

But there was another reason. James didn't want to join the communal exercises.

He was still shaking off the effects of the Neural Thrower blast he suffered during

their last Hydran engagement. Because of that he had a seizure in front of his

staff, and was forced on medical leave.

He was embarrassed enough to show such weakness. Now that his fingers

twitched until he could barely play a guitar or aim a phaser pistol to olympic

spec... it was better for his wounded ego to go in hiding.

He was also going batshit crazy. Repeated nightmares, none explainable

through his various lists of PTSD based madness, personal problems including

a recently revealed daughter and the degradation of his abilities didn't help.

With Lieutenant T'lan gone and Mika with her, James had his support group

fall out from under him.

So on a day when he needed no more drama, he had drama wait at his door.

~"Aw fucking hell..."~ James swore under his breath and put on the public

happy face. "Hello?" He called to Allison.

Jumping slightly at James appearance on 'her' side of the door, Alli recovered

quickly and eyed his sweaty clothes with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey," she inquired innocently, "Forget about somebody?"

"Ummm..." James absentmindedly hummed, "Can't say I did."

"No? " she replied angling her shirt so the DADDY's GIRL logo was clearly visible. "What about providing for your baby girl? Like good thing mom taught me how to cook my own dinner or I could totally get you for child neglect y'know."

She popped her gum nervously. Bravado was only going to carry her so far.

It took a moment for James to register what he was supposed to

remember. He had no reason to remember, as far as he knew. In fact,

he was avoiding Allison. He was looking at his temporally displaced

daughter, and unless she sprouted antennae overnight Allison was

a very uncomfortable possibility.

Before, they could hang out together. Play music, sing, just hang

out and be friends in a way that transcended their age and rank.

He even once remembered they were going to have...

"DINNER!" James introduced palm to forehead, "Of course! Jesus,

how could I forget?"

Allison frowned. She meant the comment as a snipe at how he'd been ignoring her, not literally inviting herself to dinner…..but as long as he was asking…..

"Dinner…..roger that….cool beans." she fidgeted a bit, "So....uh….Like are

you gonna invite me inside, or.....are you expecting company?"

"Nope... company's gone. I'm on sick leave. Head's broke again.

I have all the time in the universe, and trust me when I say I'm going

to need all of it to get what's going on with us straightened out." Fingers

flicked the open button, "Come in. Mika hasn't been gone long enough

for me to trash the place, so it's still presentable. Do you mind?" He pointed

to the sonic shower, "Don't want me smelling like a men's gym, right?"

"Boys…..ick."

"Thank you." James bowed out, running into the bathroom. "Be a moment.

Oh, my sister sent some new stuff from the latest Rock and Roll Hall of

Fame exhibit. Cost me a few of my antique iPods, but it was worth it."

Alli nodded absently and scanned the interior of James room.

Large, as was due a full Commander, it contained a fascinating hodge-podge of musical kitsch that the rocker girl inside her screamed to go explore.

Popping her gum idly, she ran a glitter speckled fingernail along the edges of some old holo-photos.

The scenes cycled every few minutes, but occasionally Alli could make out familiar faces amongst her Dad's companions…..

…..Uncle Vic, grimacing oddly. (He never used to do that back home)……Auntie Lexa, so young and pretty wearing a short black dress……Mom herself, Rebecca probably in her early 20's wearing a green dress and looking slightly ill……Crazy Uncle Lysander…..

Alli made her way to the famous Stratocaster guitar sitting innocently on its stand. She longed to pick it up and calm her nerves with a powerful riff, but resisted.

~~~This place….This is what our home would look like if he hadn't left…..~~~

She wondered if she could live in a place like this.

James voice was garbled by the background hum of the sonic shower. His

shirt and track shorts darted from the bathroom and landed on coat hooks.

"Computer, check reservations for Ten Forward."

=/\="All of Ten Forward's tables have been reserved for tonight.=/\=

"Ah, Cafe au Replicator it is. Didn't want a crowd. Nobody needs to know what

we have to talk about anyways."

Allison stuck her her bottom lip out in a pout. Not that she minded replicator food…..Mom was no whiz in the kitchen….but the implication that her own father didn't want be seen with her hurt a bit.

"Zarky." she sighed ,"Just me and Pops sitting alone in the dark."

"Alli, and I do say that as a way to be casual around you..." Corgan's sonic

shower ceased to hum. Clean, he snagged civilian clothes from the clothhooks,

one arm was all she saw. "I must say that I had alot of time to think about

what you said to me, and I came to a conclusion."

"You want to humbly beg my forgiveness and come back home to live with Mom and me and spoil me by buying me the pony I always wanted?" Alli batted her eyes innocently.

James stepped out, oddly casual in his civilian clothes, "That your future,

if you are any indication of it... scares the hell out of me. You know what

kind of possibilities it raises?"

"Possibilities? " Allison was hurt. The whole reason she was here was to raise possibilities.

"Possibilities like me being raised in a happy home with a mommy and a daddy who love me? What a horrible fate. The possibility of NOT growing up wondering if daddy hates me and wondering why mommy cries at night, and why my life sucks so bad?"

She paused to let the sarcasm drip in. "The possibility of being happy for once in my life? Stuff like that? How horrible for you."

James snarled back, "Don't get snarky at me, young lady. I mean the fact that you totally ignored the prime directive, which if you REALLY went to Starfleet Boot Camp you would know and therefore not have pulled this stunt of yours, and therefore risked not only the time line but your own existence just by being here with me. Stuff like that. Yes, it is horrible, for all of us."

"Look dad….mind if I call you Dad?"

James looked thoughtful at the question. Despite the circumstances and the temporal gordian knot that was staring down at him, he couldn't help but feel giddy. This was a piece of him, half James Lionel Corgan, in the spirit of a spunky little girl. ~"You're my daughter, and despite the fuckup you caused, you're still my daughter. Amazing..." He answered, "Sure, you can call me Dad."

"Good…" Alli nodded, "Because that's what you are buck-o. Congratulations, it's a girl."

James asked, "I want to hear it from you. Your mom, and let this be laid to rest, is..."

Allison was having stupid father déjà vu. ~~Who was her mother?~~

"Are you mental dad?" she snapped. "Rebecca…..Rebecca von Ernst……Rebecca CATHERINE von Ernst born in Buffalo New York and raised in Minnesota……You want her social security number too?"

She shook her head and walked over to the aforementioned holopics. Selecting one she shoved it under his nose. "Here….short redhead wearing the green dress…..a dress YOU bought her if the stories are true."

James gazed at the picture. ~"How long has that been?"~ James thought, but could not remember. Sadly, he remembered the friends long gone, those that moved one while he stayed still. "I remember that dress. Thought it would look beautiful on her. Not just some gaudy green, natural green, went well with the hair and freckles. She was beautiful in that dress."

James whistled, letting the sad moment go, "My god... you know... if I can set aside my dread for a second... you're my daughter! In the flesh! I mean... not only are you my daughter but you're smart and well adjusted. You're hope, my dear! I mean, I always wondered if I was going to have some progeny to pass on the old Corgan name, but here you are, Allison Jimsdottir. Amazing!"

"Von Ernst." Allison corrected. "Or Corgan if you like, but Jimsdottir was only a ruse"

"Fair enough." James said. "From what you tell me, I can understand if you don't wear the Corgan name."

She examined the picture of her mother tracing the young features with her finger.

"The point is, Like I came back here for more than just a weekend visit y'know? I'm like here to make those horrible possibilities a reality. Maybe Im being a poof-brain, but somehow I think I might like growing up with a full set of parents. Color me selfish."

"And normally I'd agree with you." James really felt sympathy for his temporally displaced daughter, but felt as if he was backed in a corner, made to repent for sins he hadn't committed (yet). "And honestly, I'm surprised that I... my future self, neglected you like that. But seriously, if you're wanting to know why you came years too early to ask. I don't know either. But I can tell you this... I know how I feel about having families on Starships."

"Whazzat?"

"Not a good idea." James Corgan explained, "Granted, ideally it's a great life. My dad was an asshole too... but I did like living on Starships. Been doing it since I was three, only stopped when I went to the academy. It was mostly exploration vessels, back in the day before Starfleet kept getting embroiled in one war or another. We got to cruise the spacelanes, seek out new life and new civilizations, the kind of stuff that makes a Starfleet recruit cream his pants. Growing up was like that, like The Great Santini meets James T. Kirk. Kinda shitty, but the exploration was worth the strict, overbearing ass of a father."

Allison scrunched her nose in disgust at the 'creamed his pants' referral, but said nothing. Obviously James hadn't learned how to talk around a lady yet.

His tone turned somber. "But my tours of duty have not been like that. I got in during the tail end of The Dominion War, the fun part, blood, guts and all. I was a security officer. Father was against it, said he didn't want me to do such dangerous work, that I should go more into music or be an Engineer. But I told my old man off, and poof... security work for years to come. But you know, my old man was right... if you're a security officer, worse, if you're proficient as I am... you'll never know peace and as long as your family's with you neither will they."

He then elaborated, "Think. All my assignments have been on warships. All their missions have been fighting and war. And it's not letting up anytime soon, not as far as I know. Also... the recruiters never tell you this but the universe is a very scary place and outside our little utopia there are alot of things that want us dead. Do you know what kind of stress that is on a family? Worse, if the family is on that warship? I would want them somewhere safe, as far away from the dangers of this universe as possible, and I would keep fighting to make sure those dangers never reach them. Can you understand that?"

"Families are a bad idea, and you'd want them far far away…….yuppers….that sounds like my dear old dad." Allison sighed and plopped down in a chair crossing her multicolored legs. "If you don't want me, then just tell me Pops. I'll leave and you'll never have to worry about changing my diapers again…..oh wait…..that's right…you skipped out and made mom do it……zarky for you, you're covered either way."

"Now hold on a minute!" James blustered, "I do care! Now I know I have a future and I have a daughter to prove it! But how it came to be... that's scary. Still... I can't ignore it. You need your father... and since I was a dick in the future just like my old man... I guess... I'll have to make it better." He then threw his hands up, "Problem is... how? What happens if I do? And what if your future doesn't happen because of what we do now? There's just so many unknowns..."

Allison thumped her chest with her tiny fists. "But don't you see? That's why I'm here! To answer all those questions you have, as well as mine. Piffle on the Prime Directive….we're talking family here. Im here to convince you to not screw up three lives by thinking you can save the universe all by your lonesome."

James snapped, "Oh, so I'm supposed to break the Prime Directive and give up Starfleet all for some future that MIGHT happen?"

She shook her head. "Mom was a Starfleet Captain for years and years…..and while she wont tell me most of the stories, from what I gather, she was a pretty zarky butt-kicker. She spent her life saving the universe, and yet when the time came, she found her priorities lay elsewhere….raising a kid….alone."

Alli put her hand to her head as if she suddenly felt faint. "Whoa….head rush…..I'm actually defending my mother……I haven't agreed with her since the turn of the century."

"Heh... you're telling me." James snorted, "I can't even come to a consensus with her."

"Look daddio." Alli rose from the chair and stood before him. "I'll make this easy on you. Clear your mind of Starfleet rules and regulations…..clear your mind of playing the mondo-action hero dude…..empty it of everything except what's standing in front of you."

"Alright...." Deciding to humour his daughter he closed his eyes, "And I'm seeing...."

"Its me." Alli gazed up at him. "Your daughter is 16 years old and she's never once had a hug from her father. Howzat for mental?"

"Ok I... what?" James stopped cold, "Seriously?"

Allison batted her glitter speckled eyes and popped her gum. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Not once?"

"Would you rather teel you I'm sweet 16 and never been kissed? Hel-lo…..Earth to Dad…..If you arent around, its hard to lavish love, attention and baby puppies on your daughter.""

"Surely... I visit on shore leave, right?"

Alli rolled her eyes…."Oh sure…..why didn't I think of that? Instead of like totally screwing with the timeline and traveling back 20 years, I just should have waited for the weekend to come and see you then…..Duh…..Gone is gone buck-o. I've never seen you before I walked into your office last summer!"

"Oh my god..." James breathed. He couldn't imagine any father that would want to avoid their family like that, but here he was,

hearing it from his daughter that James was just that kind of father. ~"I wouldn't do that, right?"~

And then he remembered that he would. There was Nuhir Tekri, his daughter (artificially inseminated with his DNA, but still half
James L and his first official bastard) was in the same boat as Allison. James would not be there, decided not to be there because he couldn't.

But then, was he so sure? Would it have been a far leap to quit Starfleet and go to Romulus with Atole Tekri? It would have meant breaking his oath as a Starfleet officer and quitting, but what good did it serve to not be with his other daughter?

From any indication of the future, not very good indeed. James wanted to be sick, for himself and what his actions were going to cause.

~"Fucking learn, moron."~ James thought, ~"You failed one daughter. Another one's telling you you're going to fail."~

"Jesus... I... what kind of asshole am I in the future? Alli, I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to the people I care about. I don't
know what happens in the future that makes me such a jerk, but I can't let it happen here. C'mere kid..."

It was an awkward hug for the both of them. Alli was conflicted over her anger and abandonment issues……plus, it still felt like a stranger wrapping his arms around her. Still….he was warm and smelled nice.

For James, he felt all stiff and clumsy. Once upon a time he thought Allison Jimsdottir was kinda hot. Now what he supposed to think? He wrestled with holding her too close, or not close enough.

The stood there for long moments in that hug. It was uncomfortable and weird….Alli's nose itched, and James was getting a cramp from holding himself so awkwardly.

But it was a hug.

And it was a start.

"You know..." James ruffled Allison's blonde locks, "I'm going to have to ground you if you ever... ever go back to your time."

"Surprise Surprise, Part 4, The Final Surprise"

Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom
Lt. Mark

==Jaxom's Cabin==

"… Did I hear you right? So you've never lost an away team member
before?" Mark asked the Trill.

"Not in a long, long time," Jaal answered, "It's been at least ten
years… and never anyone on a team I was in charge of."

Mark nodded approvingly, "That's quite a record. I think you should be
proud of yourself."

Jaal's lips were a thin, flat line. He wouldn't look Mark in the eye.
"But I'm not."

"Commander," Mark began, but then changed tactics. "Okay, you already
know what I'm going to say at this point."

"You're going to go on about how everyone that ever joins Starfleet
knows all the risks and dangers involved with exploration, living in
space, and now, especially, war," Jaal repeated the unsaid quotation
that's said in, most likely, every counseling session ever held when
talking about missing crewmates.

Jaal turned and faced the counselor now, "But it's different this time."

"Really?" Mark challenged. "How so?"

"Normally we 'know' what happens. Someone on the away team dies for
this reason or that. Someone didn't follow orders. Sometimes they
panic and don't follow established procedures. Accidents happen." The
Trill paused to chew on his thumb nail for a moment. He was obviously
distressed about what happened. "Val just disappeared into thin air.
No traces, no communications, nothing."

Mark was studying a PADD as Jaal spoke. Now Mark looked back to the
Trill, "According to your report you did everything you supposed to by
the book... even a few extra things. You know no one is blaming you
for any wrongdoing."

"I know," Jaal answered barely above a whisper.

Mark was quiet a moment while deciding what to say next. Commander
Jaxom already knew all the stock answers and could repeat them
verbatim. It always took something extra when trying to ease the
tensions of the top tier officers on any ship. They knew many of the
patented phrases because often they mentored and coached the younger
and less experienced of the crew.

"Jaal," Mark began but before he could get a word in edgewise the
Trill finished his thought.

"I know," Jaal was having a difficult time hiding his annoyance, "I
still have a job to do. I have to keep a stiff upper lip. I have to
let it go and not worry so much. I have to remember to keep my
composure because I'm a senior officer and looked to for leadership."
Now he looked to Mark with his brow knit angrily, "I KNOW what I have
to do, okay? That doesn't make it any easier."

Mark sat back in the comfortable chair folding his hands in his lap.
"Well then, you seem to know what you have to do. I'm going to suggest
some activity you enjoy that will aid in relieving the stress your
feeling. If you need to talk about anything else, you know how to
reach me."

The counselor stood up and leaned towards Jaal, "You 'will' call me, won't you?"

Jaal sighed deeply, "Yeah. I will."

Mark turned to leave but stopped short when he heard Jaal call him
again, "Mark?"

Spinning on his heel Mark faced Jaal, "Yes sir?"

"Thanks."

Mark tersely nodded once, "Of course sir. You're welcome."

When Jaal was alone again he let his mind review the events that led
up to this mess.

He and Aina were examining the baby starbeast with their tricorders
assuming Val was on the other side of the animal doing the same. Aina
had even gone so far as to tie into their shuttle's sensor palette to
gain higher resolution scans. There was enough data to keep the
science folks drooling for days.

Once they discovered Val was no longer on the commlink, the two
scrambled back the way they'd come to look for their teammate.

When she wasn't found a wide host of possibilities careened through
the Trill's head.

His first order of business had been to secure the young cadet in the
shuttle and have her start scanning the Hydran wreckage for Val's
biosigns. Meanwhile, Jaal started searching all the compartments
attached to the main engineering section. When Aina's scans turned up
nothing, Jaal had her scan the space nearby in case of the possibility
Val fell out of a hull breach. By the time the negative results were
relayed to him, Jaal noticed his EVA suit's life support was close to
expiring.

There was nothing more they could do.

Jaal searched a few more compartments and then was forced to head back
to the shuttle or die of suffocation.

Once aboard the shuttle, they made two complete circuits of the Hydran
ship's outer hull to make sure Val wasn't trapped somewhere on the
outside in need of assistance. When that turned up nothing, Jaal
finally flew the shuttle back to the Galaxy with the bad news.

The ride back was very quiet.

He did everything he was trained to do, everything he could think of,
and still found nothing.

That bastard counselor was right on both accounts.

Now, Jaal had to get over it.

"Sudden Change Of MOod"

Cmdr. Arel Smith
Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom

==Strategic Operations Office==

Instead of actual work (meaning specifically, strategic operations
work), Jaal was tinkering with something on his desk. It was a rather
archaic looking piece of ... something that had several small wires
connected to an input on a PADD that Jaal was carefully studying.

It was also an attempt at putting Jaal's mind a little more at ease after
losing Val on the Hydran wreckage.

He was so engrossed in his little project he didn't even hear Arel storm
into the office.

Arel threw herself into the chair. "I hate people. What is that?"

"Am I included in that group?" the Trill asked without looking up from his work.

"Not right now," She replied. "We'll see how the day progresses."

"That's fine. I just wanted to be clear on that." He looked up at Arel
with a smirk. "And for you information, this," he indicated the device
on his desk, "is an ignition command and control module from a terran
motorcycle. I'm trying to see if it's still good... if it is I'm
considering restoring another one."

"Motor cycle?" Arel asked, frowning at the wires in his hand. "That
like a hover craft?"

Jaal's smirk grew, "It's 'nothing' like a motorcycle," he sat back in
his chair rubbing his stubbled chin in thought, "In fact, I'd say
there's nothing like it at all... well, unless you count a bicycle
with a two-hundred horsepower engine..." he mused...

She knew what a bicycle was at least. Her aunt and uncle had liked to
ride them on occasion. Arel had tried it once, managed to fall into a
prickly bush, and decided to pass on any future adventures. "How do
you move your feet, uh, ped-dle that fast?"

Jaal laughed and laughed and laughed, "Ya know.. for someone that can
kill a person with their pinkie alone, you aren't too bright."

"Fuck off. Just because I don't play around with archaic modes of
transportation does not make me stupid."

"You don't peddle a motorcycle," Jaal informed her, "that's what the
motor is for. Didn't you pay any attention to anything I did on the
Miranda?"

"No," She said bluntly.

"I finished restoring an old Ducati during the time I was there. I
took it home right before transferring to the Carthage. I worked on
that thing for almost seven years. I thought everyone knew," he
shrugged.

Any mention of the Carthage usually brought the mood down, so Arel
tried to keep the focus away from it. "Seven years?" She asked with a
smirk. "Are you that bad of a mechanic?"

Jaal laughed again, "No. I wanted the least amount of replicated parts
possible. Otherwise, it wouldn't be much of a restoration now would
it? It took time to track down everything I needed. That's what took
so long." He nodded to himself satisfactorily, "It was worth it too."

"Well, I guess I'll have to see this project of yours in seven years,"
Arel replied. "If it means that much to you."

The Trill kept smiling, "This one may not take as long. Besides, if
you ever want to try riding, we can do it on the holodeck. I managed
to download a copy of the original program from the Miranda's database
last week. You can ride any motorbike ever made on Earth in any
environment." He looked up from his project on his desk with a
mischievous grin, "I'd be happy to show it to you sometime."

He reclined in his chair and waited for Arel to take the bait.

Arel wanted to scowl. Seeing the thing was different from riding the
thing and if she couldn't manage a regular bike ... but she wasn't
about to admit that. "Okay, show me now."

==Holodeck 2==

Jaal had Arel sitting on a rather tame bike for her first time out. It
was an entry level model made by a company called 'Honda'. "Twist the
throttle to go faster," Jaal instructed pointing to the various
controls, "Front brakes are here, back brakes are this pedal, on the
other side is the gear shifter and the clutch is up here. Obviously
the handlebars are for steering. Any questions?"

Arel didn't know how to get out of this with any dignity so she shook her head.

Jaal mounted his own bike and started the engine. He watched Arel
manage to start hers. This was going to be as interesting as hell. For
the first time in all the years he'd know her, she looked rather
unsure of herself.

====

One hour and several bruises later, Arel threw up her hands.
"Kahless! Fine! I obviously was not meant to ride these things."

Jaal put the kickstand down on his own bike and took off his helmet.
He shook his head at the motorcycle Arel pretty much destroyed while
riding it. The tank was dented in several places, spokes were missing
from the wheels, one exhaust pipe had fallen off, and it had at least
one oil leak.

Admittedly, he felt bad for his friend. Riding was supposed to be an
enjoyable experience. It wasn't if one never got going fast enough to
gain good balance. He estimated she put more miles on the side of the
bike than on the wheels. There was no way she got to feel the
exhilaration of the wind whipping through her hair or the feeling of
near flight from the sheer speed one of the machines could attain.

"It really is fun, honest, once you get the hang of it," Jaal tried to
soothe her frustration.

"If you say so," She replied with a scowl.

"Tell ya what," he scooted himself forward on the seat of his bike,
"Hop on the back and I'll take you for a quick spin. You'll see."

Arel eyed the thing warily but did as he asked. "What am I supposed to
hang on to? There are no handles back here."

"Well," he pointed to the small strap in the middle of the seat,
"Here's the 'oh shit' strap. You can hang on to that or you can hang
on to me." He did fairly well at keeping the mischievousness out of
his voice.

"I think if I throttle you it will be difficult for you to maneuver,"
Arel said sweetly.

"I didn't mean around my throat," Jaal replied in kind, "I meant you
could put your hands around my torso... its what 'most' passengers." He
rolled his eyes disdainfully, "I won't take it the wrong way, believe
me."

Arel shot him a look and then wrapped her arms around his torso.

Jaal started the engine and eased off the clutch so there wasn't so
much of a jerking motion as they took off.

She inhaled sharply to avoid 'eeping' and pressed herself tighter against him.

Unlike last time he took a female for a ride, there was no guilt in
Jaal's mind partly because his relationship with Erastus was long gone
and partly because he knew nothing was going to happen with Arel. They
were co-workers and friends and that was all.

The Triumph Bonneville accelerated smoothly down the lane and soon the
wind was whipping through their hair and nipping at their clothes.
Jaal kept the bike at a relatively moderate speed for the time being.

Once she was assured they wouldn't be 'wiping out' any time soon, Arel
relaxed enough to take in the scenery and enjoy the wind Jaal kept
babbling about. It was actually kind of fun. Go figure.

"Go faster," Arel yelled.

"Thought you'd never ask." Jaal twisted the throttle and upshifted a
gear. The bike responded easily adding another thirty kilometers an
hour to their velocity.

Arel grinned. She could definitely see doing this again in the future.
If she could drive the damn motorcycle that was.

Jaal leaned harder than he intended into the next turn. He could feel
Arel squeeze a little harder to hang on. For a moment he forgot who
was behind him and enjoyed the sensation of being held tightly. The
road straightened out again which seemed to make the bike beg for more
speed.

Jaal happily obliged.

"The Big Chill"

LtCdr Th'Khiss K'aa
Lt Chris Daniels

The Brig
===================

As he stood there, he couldn't help but feel he was in a zoo, a
laboratory, or some other sort of observation room. The subject laid
before him, motionless...not dead...but not acknowledging his
presence. Maybe he had actually been that quiet as he had entered the
chamber, told the guard to wait outside, and then stood quietly as he
observed the scaled prisoner in front of him; or maybe the Gorn form
in front of him was playing opossum, listening to the low, quiet thrum
of the wrist collar, marvelling in the pleasure of being the one that
caused him to have to wear the wretched thing.

None of it mattered. He stood there, expressionless save for a
distinct fire in his eyes, staring at the thing that had done such
harm to his ship, his captain, his crewmates, and himself.

His old friend.

The Gorn's barrel chest rose and fell slowly, but otherwise K'aa
remained absolutely still. It took Chris a few minutes of observation
to notice the reflection on the glossy black plastic at the back of
the small cell. Two large globular eyes bore into him without
blinking; one a pale gold, the other a sickly opaque white.

Once Chris had caught the eye..eyes?..staring at him, he decided to
keep watching, observing. It was almost as though he couldn't stop.
It brought him pleasure to watch the animal try to regain it's control
over the situation...a smug lizard. Somewhere in Chris' mind the
humor of the situation registered.

Finally, his arms crossed, Chris decided he had grown bored of this
little staring contest. His time was limited, anyways. Bending down,
he watched in the reflection as K'aa's eyes followed him. Kneeling
close to the floor, he gently lowered the wrist collar to the deck, its
vibrating motion causing a distinct--and rather annoying--buzz that
resonated throughout the brig.

After a few seconds, Chris lifted his arm.

"Give it up...I know you can see me."

"Yesss", K'aa hissed. "I sssee a great deal more than mossst would
asssume. It'sss the eyesss you ssssee - wide angle of visssion, and
excellent sight in darknessss. Sssuperior range-finding alssso.
It'ssss ssserved me well in your world, Chrisss."

Daniels stayed in the crouch he had previously been in, his arms
resting on his thighs. He stared at the alien in front of him, an amused
snarl on his face. "Oh I know. I've studied Gorn physiological
capabilities since...well, its been awhile." He mussed his hair, pausing.
"But what I can't understand is...why wait until after the battle?"

The reptilian sat up to slouch against the cold, ungiving bulkhead of
the cell's aft wall. His oversized head sagged between his broad
shoulders, and his claws rested on his knees just before his eyes as
if he contemplated their use and past actions. "Opsss on a
Galaxy-classs ssstarship isss busssier than one would imagine.
Cusssstom billitsss for over twenty different ssspeciesss... toilet
paper for 'Marine Country', that sssort of thing. I've been...
occupied."

Chris dragged his sleeve across the floor, a passing buzz accompanying
it. "No, I'll admit, it is pretty impressive how you and your people
managed to infiltrate us, study us...convince..most of us, and then
ultimately strike as you did. What doesn't impress me is your timing.
you incapacitated the Commanding officer after a battle, not before when
you would have had an untested XO leading a frazzled crew with a
damaged ship. Then you chose not to do it during an intermission
of a larger battle, when my previously stated endgame would have
happened, but after the termination point, when you gave the chance
for said untested XO and crew to get their feet under them. And
THAT...is what keeps me as a tactician from marvelling at your plan."

"Doesss murder come ssso quickly to you mind that you asssume that
killing M'Kantu wasss primary amongssst my goalsss?" K'aa's opaque
eye rolled in Chris' direction falling just past the CTO's left
shoulder. "Darren M'Kantu wasss a worthy foe - I sssimply didn't
believe it until the battle in the Nebula. In sssecondsss he wrung
victory from asssured defeat. Galaxy wasss meant to be board..." The
Gorn stopped mid-sentence and his maw remained open for a few seconds
before it slowly closed. "Clever. The cold mussst be affecting my
judgement. Well done, Chrisss - you've managed to pry more than
Corgan and Krieghoff combined."

The snarling smirk returned to Chris' face. "Didn't you read in my
personnel file that I'm a proponent of non-conventional tactics?
Just because you caused me to be laid up in sickbay the past week
doesn't mean I haven't been working."

K'aa turned his head so his good eye could focus on his former
colleague. "Ahhh.. I've sssseen your work on the Reliant Chrisss,
ssso there'sss really no point in my being worried on that account.
Though I mussst sssay the change you've undergone sssince arriving on
Galaxy showsss promissse. The Trill woman wasss definitely a poor
influence on your character - your persssonal logsss show developing
agresssion... perhapsss even a hint at malice." The reptile then
leaned close to the security field, causing it to crackle briefly
against his snout. "A shame that your development assss a warrior
isss too little, too late."

"Too little too late? You trying to recruit me there, big guy?"
Despite the fact that K'aa had
revealed through his revelations that this was indeed not his old
friend, this conversation bore a strange familiarity. Chris waved his
hand at the field. "We'll save that recruitment joke for
later. "You're rather wrong about that whole progress thing, however.
Janeen and I are doing
quite well actually. And this hint of...malice, did you say?..that
you detect in my logs..." Now he placed his open hand over his heart,
the collar vibrating against the fabric of his uniform. "By the way,
I'm touched that you would study me so closely...but anyhoo..." now
his face turned back from sarcastic to serious. "I have your cronies
and my experiences over Romulus to thank for that. I've noticed a
certain-" he looked down and traced a line with his finger on the
floor. "Tension? Aggression? Lust for Hydran Blood? Yeah, that's it.
I've noticed it ever since I put a phaser beam through that first Star
Carrier, how good it felt to kill your people. On the Miranda and
Reliant I could ease the aggression through the physical act of
love...now...well...Absence really does make the heart grow
fonder...and it takes away a great outlet."

"I've sstudied all the sssenior ssstaff of the ship Chrisss", the Gorn
hissed. "The sssignificant and the... otherssss. In consssiderable
detail - enough to know a lie when I hear one. At leassst you keep
your liesss to your filthy mating habitsss - honesssty about the urge
to kill on the other hand, *that'ss* an admirable trait. More than an
urge though... isssn't it Chrisss? You've come to *like* it, haven't
you?"

Chris' eyes narrowed. Instead of answering, he jammed his wrist to
the deck again, allowing the noise of the cuff buzzing against the
floor to resonate throughout the brig, staring at K'aa
dispassionately for a good minute while he kept his wrist there.
Finally, he lifted his arm. "Sorry, that was the game time buzzer.
When something's over, it goes off. Funny," he marvelled at his
wrist as he spoke, "as much of a nuisance as it is, it does come
in rather handy. Can't say I'll be sad to see it go though."

"Knew I should have ripped it off insssstead of merely breaking it",
K'aa growled through gritted fangs. "If you think you'll be 'sssaved
by the buzzzer'... think again. You've become a killer, Danielsss -
much like your Missster Krieghoff. Quite the change, eh? Consssider
it a gift to take with you to your grave. Assss for myssself...." The
reptilian shrugged his broad shoulders, and his upper lip receded to
offer Chris a glimps of more fangs. "The Brig isss quote possible the
mossst sssecure place on board for what will happen next."

Chris dropped his wrist to the ground and left it there, speaking over
the din. "Yeah I know the rest...we're all going to be destroyed, the
Federation will fall...Blah blah blah. Save me the rhetoric. It's
the same fanaticism that zealots and fools have used throughout
history." For the first time in the conversation, Chris stood and
looked down at K'aa. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the
door. "Now I'm gonna leave, and I hope you don't mind if I turn the
temperature down a bit." He walked over to the environmental panel.

For the first time since he became a prisoner, K'aa moved. He roared
and sprang at the security field with all the force his muscled legs
could muster, and the Brig glowed white for a second from the security
field's crackle. "Touch thossse controlsss and I'll feassst on you
gutsss, powindah! I ssswear!!"

Chris merely chuckled at that comment. "I don't know what you are, or
where you came from...but I tell you what. I'm about to go upstairs
and give the bosses what you just told me. And then..." he walked
back towards the Gorn "I'm gonna recommend we postpone your death
sentence. Not because I want you for information, you smug son of a
bitch. That will come in time anyways. No, I want you to watch from
this pathetic little cell as we beat back your Fleet. I want you to
watch as we crush the ones who sent you here, and then run back to
their little part of the galaxy after having been beaten so badly that
they had to agree to our terms. I want you to know the feeling as
they leave you here, without so much as trying to get you back.
Because whatever you are, you've made this personal. When you took my
friend, when you betrayed our trusts, when you attacked us. And then,
once all this is over, I'll stop campaigning for your
survival...because I want you to see this defeat, to know that there
is no next battle...and there is no worse death than the end of hope."

"The Final Lesson" - Part One

Lt. Ella Grey, apc
Marcus Grey, npc
Eileen Grey, npc
John Calloway, npc

*****

USS Galaxy

*****

Life on the ship had been going well.

With each passing day the loss of Corran had become more bearable, the
weight of being alone not so heavy. She had even found herself on the
path towards making friends again - with people in her department like
Nathan and Elrin and Dhani from Engineering, who she had once feared
would learn all her secrets. Even the pain of seeing Angelienia daily
was not as sharp as it used to be.

And all probably because Victor Krieghoff had told her that she was
capable of it, of having connections and being a human being. There
were days Ella thought he should really have a book out there to
market his rather unique perception of the world. The Seven Habits of
Highly Effective People: Victor style. You can have connections being
the second rule.

Of course the first rule was fast becoming the stuff of Starfleet legend.

But life had been good lately. Even with the war, without Victor,
without Corran Rex, or the possibility of having any place to wear the
strappy heels that she had impulsively bought, life had been good.

Naturally, it couldn't last forever.

"Precious!" Her mother exclaimed.

Ella sighed as her parents stepped off of the transporter pad. It
wasn't that she didn't love them, she did, but they also had the
capability of driving her stark raving mad.

Marcus Grey, a man of average height with dark brown hair and icy blue
eyes, looked around the room with some distaste and said a quick hello
before going to have a 'word' with the transporter officer. Ella could
see that her mother's initial happiness at seeing her was fading as
Eileen took in every smudge and grease stain on her uniform.

And so it begins, Ella thought with a sigh. She wondered if there was
any Romulan Ale on board the ship.

Before Ella got a chance to say hello, which she imagined her parents
were both going to have a mild aneurysm over, her mother spoke up.
"Oh, Ella darling, we're waiting on John."

The look on her face must have said it all because her mother
elaborated. "John Calloway, dear. Our interpreter."

Ella was automatically about to nod when her brain seemed to come to a
sudden and screeching halt.

Stop the press, she thought. Hold your horses. Our what?

What?!?!

They couldn't be serious. An interpreter? For their own damned daughter?

But no, there he was. Ella's mouth almost dropped open as he
materialized on the pad. They'd hired someone to interpret for them.
They'd actually gone and ... and why couldn't they have just brought
Laura, who had actually bothered to learn sign. Of all the stupid ...
they were so ... they drove her so completely mad sometimes! Ella
looked up, on the verge of telling them off - and shocking the hell
out of them with her vocal implant to boot - when all her complaints
abruptly died as she got a good look at her parent's new hired help.

The man appeared to be in his late thirties, with sandy colored hair,
dark brown eyes, and a face that wasn't traditionally handsome but
somehow appealing. He looked lean, but fit, and gave Ella a friendly
smile which made her heartbeat pick up its already annoyed pace.
She forced herself to smile back; the effort akin to trying to lodge a
boulder at an enemy with only a plastic spork.

~~ A pleasure to meet you ~~ She signed with stiff fingers. ~~
Unnecessary, however, since I've had a vocal chip implanted ~~

So you can just take your dark eyes and your smile, turn right the
hell around and go back to wherever you came from, Ella thought.

John Calloway smiled wider. He had nice teeth, no chips or large
spaces. ~~Ah, but we don't need to tell them that right away, do we?~~

"Isn't he fabulous, dearest?" Eileen asked her daughter. She
unconsciously moved to adjust what Laura had dubbed a 'society' hat,
this one in a shade of purple just a tad darker than her cosmetically
altered eye hue which she changed according to the fad of the week. "I
thought we might be able to have a real conversation now."

Ella brought forth another one of her winning smiles for her mother's
sake. Her mother's idea of a real conversation meant one where Laura
wasn't listening and usually involved potential husbands and/or
non-Starfleet careers.

~~ No, I suppose not ~~ Ella signed to the man. ~~But we should have a
discussion. Soon ~~

"Ella said that she's glad that you're here and hopes that you didn't
spend too much on her birthday present," He told her mother with a
smile.

She told herself to relax her fingers from squeezing into fists. So
what if he knew that was exactly the kind of thing she would have said
to them?

Marcus and Eileen both smiled; Ella thought that she was going to
break her jaw any minute now from the strain of keeping up.

~~ Tell them please to follow me. I'll show them to their quarters
first ~~ Ella signed politely. ~~ And I'd appreciate it if you
wouldn't ad lib ~~

He repeated the first part to them in a cheerful tone, which only
furthered her annoyance.

The group made its way down the halls of the Galaxy with Ella
promising to give a tour of the ship in the future. She ignored her
father's occasional sneers, her mother's questions about her social
life, and their new friend as much as was humanly possible.

It seemed to take forever until her parents were safely deposited in
their guest quarters, probably because the first ones were inadequate.
Ella tried to suggest that maybe the station's accommodations were
better but her parents seemed hell bent on staying on the ship.

Probably better to keep a running tab on everything that was wrong
with it, Ella thought sourly.

Finally she was showing the interpreter where he'd be staying.

They were quiet on the way there, Ella formulating exactly what she
wanted to say, John Calloway ... well, she wasn't exactly sure what he
was thinking. And, if she were honest, she really didn't want to
know. Ella entered his quarters and waited for him to enter before
opening her mouth to speak.

He quickly grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her towards him.
Her gasp was followed by an even louder one as his free hand moved to
rub the pad of his thumb over her lips before moving back to raise an
index finger to his own lips with a whispered shushing noise.

Then he let her go with a wink before pulling out a device from his pocket.

Ella glared at him with no small amount of venom as she watched the
machine scan for listening devices. She thought it was a little much,
even thought about commenting on the man's extensive paranoia.

Then again, she supposed a man in his profession always took extra
precautions. She tapped her foot impatiently until he gave a thumbs-up
sign.

Ella's hands sped like lightening. ~~What are you doing here, Daro? ~~

"A job," The man she had known as Daro Cole said with some amusement,
looking her up and down.

She returned the favor. He looked the same as he had when she had
known him at eighteen, except that he was slightly taller, leaner, and
now appeared to be human and not Bajoran.

"That involves my parents!" Ella's mechanical voice rang out. It was
not quite a shriek but it was the closest that her voice had ever
managed.

"I needed a cover," Daro replied with a shrug. "And who am I to stand
between a family in need of a good interpreter?"

Ella scowled. "So it's someone on the ship then? The station? My
parents won't give you an all access pass!"

Even as she said it, Ella knew who could give him such a thing. A cold
knot started to form in her stomach.

Daro gave an easy smile and moved forward to run a finger lightly down
her throat and across the vocal patch. The move was almost casual and
yet she knew it was anything but. "This is new."

"You like?" Ella asked coldly.

"Not particularly."

"Good."

Daro laughed. "You never could quite pull off the heartless bitch,
Ella. And to answer your question, it really doesn't change a thing,
this new voice of yours. Your parents will allow me to stay seeing as
they've already paid for my services."

"Which ones?" Ella interrupted with a snort.

"And," He continued after rolling his eyes. "They were only a means to
get me on board."

"And insurance," She added, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes."

"Because I will have access to what you need."

"Yes."

"You're asking me to be an accomplice to murder, Cole." Ella frowned.

The hand that had somehow managed to sneak its way around her neck and
the thumb idly stroking her throat increased ever so slightly in
pressure. "I'm not really asking at all, Ella."

“To Do or Not To Do?”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant (J.G.) Gabrielle Watson – Medical Officer (APC – RobS)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ USS Galaxy – Holodeck Four ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Looking down at the viscous protein bath Kimberly lightly ran her fingers over the replicated section of spine that was all the Captain needed replaced. Four sections of bone, a few muscles and ligaments and the all important bundle of nerves contained there-in. In the actual operation she wouldn’t be able to touch this of course, but while Watson worked on the neurocortical scanners she had found herself distracted for a moment and looking at the small but oh-so important piece of biology.

Twelve simulations, and five complete failures that had resulted in the untimely death of their holo-patient. Two more had yielded absolutely no results whatsoever, though the Captain would have survived the procedure, he would have remained a tetraplegic, totally paralyzed.

Of the remaining five simulations, most had resulted in a very promising outcome, though exactly what degree of motor coordination and autonomic control the Captain would have even the computer was having a little trouble predicting.

Yawning gently she wiped the goo from her fingers and washed her hands out of habit, once they reset the program they’d try again, and see if this time they could improve the odds, tweak the procedure, add something else.

“You’re tired.” Watson observed bluntly from near the simulation of the Captain. “You should rest. Your performance will improve with some rest and food.”

“I know, I know,” she agreed, “It’s not that late though, we can try the new scanner tie in before we call it a night if you like?” Kimberly offered, not quite ready to call it a day yet.

“Due respect Kimberly, you’re pushing yourself.” Walking over to the CMO Gabrielle frowned “you’re not going to help the Captain by making decisions while tired. Any decrease in performance is sufficient reason to take a break, this is an incredibly delicate procedure and we both need to be at our best to succeed. Consider it Doctors orders.” She ordered with no trace of a smile.

~ Blunt, direct and absolutely correct. ~ She realised wryly. “Okay, I yield.” Admitting defeat on this topic was probably for the best anyway. And as much as she hated to agree, she could use a coffee.

“Good. Ten-fore?” Gabrielle offered as she saved and ended the simulation.

“Yeah,” Kimberly agreed tiredly. Exiting the holodeck she walked in silence for a moment, her mind still going over the delicate procedure they were mapping out. There were so many variables they had to consider and account for, and then there was the unexpected as well. By very definition the unexpected wasn’t something you could easily plan for, all you could do was try to cover as many possibilities as you could and have plan upon plan upon plan ready just in case.

“So, honest opinion,” Kimberly asked as they got on the lift, “what do you think the odds are at the moment?”

“”Well, if the Ops and engineering teams can get the transporter rematerialisation subroutines correctly synchronised with the neurocortical scanner with no data loss, then I’d say we’re somewhere in the mid sixties at the moment.” Gabrielle replied honestly. “There’s still the reconnection error issue though, that figure is still way too high.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that. We have the accuracy now to actually connect the nerves, it’s just making sure the right nerve endings are rejoined to where they are supposed to go.” Rubbing her hand across her eyes she shrugged, “I’d thought about using the transporter trace logs, but the data in there isn’t enough, there’s a DNA trace and bio-signature but that’s all. Have you had any brilliant ideas?”

Shaking her head as the lift slowed Gabrielle ran the procedure file across her vision again, even though she had it committed to memory she found sometimes re-reading data sometimes prompted new ideas. “I’m sorry but no. I have to admit to a lack of inspiration at the moment. Has Starfleet Medical come back to you with anything?”

“No, they’re still unsure if the procedure is going to do anything for the Captain at all, and I’ve been warned if we cannot come up with a treatment plan soon the Captain will have to be transferred to a long term medical facility.” ~ And I’ll be checking the temperature in ‘hell’ around the time I give up on the Captain! ~ She admitted to herself. Though Kimberly found her frustration growing every hour, technological advances had improved the odds for the procedure, but for once it wasn’t physics holding things up, but plain old human biology. With no template to go on it was trial and error for part of the procedure. Many nerves and nerve bundles could be mapped and attached correctly, but there were many many more whose exact function couldn’t be determined.

Stopping suddenly as they approached ten-fore Kimberly found an idea forming. Looking at Watson as she faced her she raised an eyebrow as the embryonic idea flourished. “We ‘do’ have one template for the Captains ‘exact’ neural structure.” She announced, though her voice was not triumphant nor excited, it was more questioning.

“Where?” Watson queried, wondering where she was talking about.

“His own DNA.” Staring at the wall she ran with the idea, a small grin spread on her face as she contemplated the idea more and more.

Seeing the grin Watson shook her head and stepped in front of Kimberly. “Either you’re more tired that I thought or I’m missing something.” She said directly. “We cannot clone the Captain, the law in this instance is explicit and clear. Nor can we in any way read the genetic data from his cells for a blueprint if you will. The technology simply doesn’t exist.”

“Nope, it doesn’t you’re right,” Kimberly agreed, “on both counts. However, we can take a sample of the Captains DNA and stimulate mitosis. Once we have cell division we can then stimulate cellular differentiation.” Holding up a hand she stopped Watson from speaking. “I know, the law prohibits cloning and I have no intention of breaking the law. We can work within the law though and let the cells divide for a day or so, more that enough time.”

“Enough time for what?” Watson asked curiously, “at the end all we’ll have is a mass of cells that are beginning to differentiate but we cannot legally keep. Where does that get us?”

“It gives us a baseline,” she explained patiently. “We scan and record the cells as they divide and monitor them for as long as possible. Using them as a starting point and the Captain’s latest physical and scans as the end result, we can project their division and simulate…”

“…simulate how all the nerves actually connect.” Watson finished, her own mind now following the same idea. “Create your own blueprint basically. Interesting, and certainly a better idea than any we’ve had so far. There may be a few errors but theoretically we can reduce them to a negligible amount. Plus, if we do the same simulation on a random selection of crew, we can assess approximately how accurate the projection could be… Where do you think you’re going?” She asked suddenly as Kimberly turned.

“The lab?” She answered with a touch of confusion, “we can get this running tonight, and the sooner the better.”

“You mean ‘I’ can get this running. You need food and sleep, I only require a short downtime each day to maintain optimal performance,” she reminded Kimberly with a touch of admonishment in her voice. “I can easily have a dozen samples running before morning and by the time I off line you will be awake again and can monitor them. This is a simple procedure and I am not tired. You however are!” she stated in a no nonsense tone. “There is ample time to discuss the needed programming for the simulation tomorrow. We can do little there anyway without the scan data.” Waving toward ten-fore she motioned Kimberly in that direction. “Go.”

Muttering a few choice oaths under her breath Kimberly watched as Gabrielle returned the way they had come from. She was right, her bed was calling her with its siren song about now, as was a snack and a large coffee. Tomorrow. For now Gabrielle was right, she didn’t need to be there for the cell samples, it was simple enough. But tomorrow, well that was gonna be a busy day.

<tbc…>

~Engineers do it...~


Arel Smith
Thyago Carneiro



Arel opened the door to find Thyago's smirking face waiting for her on
the other side. "Oi," he said, "What's goin' on?"

She raised an eyebrow.

He continued to smile his half smile, waiting for a response. Though,
when none came, he began to shift around awkwardly. Eventually, he
asked, "I don't even get a hello?"

"Hello, Thyago," Arel replied. "I seem to recall me threatening some
missing body parts - parts that I know you happen to like - if you
told people what had happened."

"What? All I said was 'what's goin' on.' I haven't said anything.
How is anyone going to get 'we slept together' out of that?" Thyago
replied.

"Oh, I don't know," Arel said. "Maybe you coming to my door and saying
'we slept together' out loud."

"No, see, I got it covered," he said, raising a hand to where the gold
met the black on his uniform, "Olhe! I'm in a uniform, which I never
wear, so I blend in, and look, a tool kit, so if anyone walks by I can
pre--"

He stopped and fell silent as a pair of footsteps could be hear
approaching. Then, with an oddly lowered voice, started with,
"--Common problem with the pre-fabricated furniture. Particle board
is cheap, but flimsy. And those screws always snap. What you need is
a good, hard wood. You need to get nailed. Soon, you'll have a table
you can dance on! You'll just have to decide... from this..."

He paused and leaned his head back into the hallway, watching as the
two crewmen walked out of earshot. "Ok, they're gone. See! Perfect
disguise. I pretend I'm an engineer all the time!

"I shudder to think how many people you've fooled," Arel replied.

"Yeah, I know. It's amazing," he joked.

Arel refused to be amused and crossed her arms. Truth be told, it had
been a hard day and messing around with Thyago could prove relaxing
but she knew it freaked Nathan out. She would rather keep her friend
than lose him over her sex life.

"So, um, I thought maybe you'd like to have dinner with me? I can
cook a mean steak," Thyago said, holding up the tool kit. He opened
it to show two potatoes, whole carrots, a paper-wrapped parcel that
presumably contained fresh steak and a few small jars of brown-black
liquid and green herbs.

Arel looked at the steak, a bit wistfully. "I only have a replicator."
She then looked at him. "And I'm not sleeping with you again."

He laughed, "That's okay. I wasn't looking for a trade. Although, I
wouldn't say that before you've had my stea-- oh, yeah, that sounds
like a pretty serious leak. Sometimes the plumbing just snaps like
that for no reason. I'll just have to come in and lay some pipe.
Shall we go have a look... at..." Again, he trailed off to listen and
make sure the walkers had passed and the footsteps were receding.

Arel in the meantime had blocked the entryway a bit more with her
body. She was about to reply when another person walked by and Thyago
started in again with "Yeah, that sounds like a run-o'-the-mill clog.
Simple fix, I'll help you clean out your pipes..."

The person passed and Arel groaned. "You are horrible at this."

"What do you mean? This is how maintenance engineers talk," Thyago
said innocently, though without sincerity. "Shh, back in character,"
he whispered as another set of footsteps echoed around the bend.

Arel rolled her eyes and then suddenly smiled. "Your pipe is awfully ... small."

The passing crewman, a youthful brown-haired girl with punky hair,
slowed at the comment, and cast Thyago a curious stare as he struggled
to recover from Arel's unexpected snipe. "Uh... I'm sorry?"

"I just don't see how such an obviously defective product is going to
get the job done," Arel said loudly.

Thyago squinted. "Well, it's filled plenty of cabinets before yours.
In fact, I've laid this pipe in your quarters before and you were
quite pleased with the results, if I recall."

"Sometimes you have to pretend - to soothe the mechanic's ego, you
know?" She replied with a straight face. Steak and sex were one thing
- next to weaponry, Arel loved a good verbal sparring. "I think the
problem is that you start using the pipes and then bust a leak ...
prematurely."

"Really? I mean, they were solid for all of Beta shift, and a good
portion of Gamma," Thyago said, then darted his eyes upwards in
consideration for a moment before adding, "Although, that is premature
if we're actually talking about steel pipes." He caught Arel's eyes
and directed them to the crewman who had stopped her stroll a few feet
passed the doorway.

"Scram," Arel snapped at the crewman. The woman eyed them for a moment
longer, an amused smirk on her face. Eventually, under Arel's harsh
glare, she turned and continued on her way.

Thyago watched and waited for her to leave before adding, "Besides?
Faking it? Isn't that like lying? That's very Romulan of you."

Arel's eyes narrowed. There was playing around and there was just
plain begging to get your ass kicked. "I hadn't considered that. Next
time I'll just rip off any pipes that I find insufficient."

Thyago laughed confidently, "I'll keep that in mind. So, look, you
want dinner, or not?"

"Yeah, why not?" Arel said, stepping inside. "Just keep your hands to yourself."

Thyago's face lit up. "Maneiro!" he beamed as Arel walked away from
the entrance, and as a couple of ensigns passed by, he said, "Yep,
sounds like you got your wires crossed, preventing power from reaching
the trigger. I'll just come in and help you remove your shorts!"

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