USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 60805.04 - 60805.10

"Harsh Lessons of Reality"

Major Nathan Everett
Lieutenant Darius Slaughter
Cadet Artemis Bancroft
===

Nathan reclined in his chair as he awaited the arrivals of both Darius
and Artemis. He had just commed the pair a few minutes earlier and
requested that they meet him in his office at the top of the hour. He
had been waiting patiently since then with his hands clasped behind
his head and his feet propped up on the corner of his desk, whistling
an old folk song while wondering who would show up first. Not that it
mattered, really, but Cowboy was interested to see if either of them
cared as little about punctuality as he did.

Darius was probably one of those that was most opposite of Cowboy. If
one was to be successful in life's pursuits, one must be on time for
the opportunities presented. As it was, he arrived a full 10 minutes
till. "Ye rang, Major?"

Cowboy greeted Darius with a nod. "That Ah did, Carnage. Good to see
you. How're you likin' life on the Galaxy so far?"

"She's a fine ship, 'n a good crew," the weathered El Aurian said,
taking a seat on the couch supplied to nearly every CO's office across
Starfleet. "An' despite yer misgivin's, I doubt there's nae better
successor to ol' Quattro than ye'self."

Nathan smiled. "Thanks, Darius, but Ah've already picked mah XO."

Darius gave his CAG a sour look, one which just as soon turned into
amusement. "T'wasn't me intent'n fer such a position, I've for
more'n a few of yer lifetimes left ahead 'o me. Besides which, yer
doing a grand job yeself already."

"Well, Ah'm tryin', anyway. But Ah expect you to set me straight if Ah
screw somethin' up. Alright?"

Darius nodded. "Aye, that ye can count on."

"Good." Cowboy lifted his feet off of his desk and sat up in his
chair. "You met Cadet Bancroft yet?"

"That scrawny little spit of-a-thing what wants ta' play pilot?" he
scoffed. "Aye, that I have. I take it ye'll be wantin' me ta train
her, yes?"

Nathan grunted an affirmation. "You've got about a million more flight
hours'n the Albatross than me, so Ah figured she'd be better off with
you showin' her how to handle herself in one," he explained. He lifted
a challenging eyebrow. "You think you can handle it, old man?"

Darius looked at Nathan. "Ye think she can keep up?" he asked, the
expression on the El Aurian's face being somewhat .... mischevious and
devious.

Nathan grinned across his desk at the El Aurian. "Nope, but it'll be
fun to watch her try."

***

Artemis Bancroft slipped into the office with a few minutes to spare.

Unlike the first time she'd entered the flight deck of the Galaxy, she
was wearing the right uniform this time, complete with her flight
jacket. "Sir," she said as she came into the office, then she nodded
toward Darius. "Lieutenant, sir. Cadet Bancroft reporting as
ordered."

Darius was on his feet in a flash. "Inta' yer suit'n get ta' tha'
simulat'r, Cadet!" For such an aparently old man, he still held quite
an imposing aura about him when he so desired. He also seemed quite
pissed off about something, and was seemingly taking it out on her.
"Ye got 5 minutes ta' get yer scrawny arse inta' space!"

Artemis blinked, but then spun on her heel and raced back out the
door. Making a mad dash for her locker where she had her flight suit
stowed, she quickly changed into the suit, pulled her flight jacket
back on, and dashed off to the simulator. She managed to hit the
simulator at three minutes, and was in the cockpit before four. The
simulator itself hummed to life and the view around her shimmered into
a vast spacescape outside of her fighter. She was glad for all the
running she and Shi had been doing lately. It only just hit her that
she wasn't really sure who the lieutenant barking orders had been, but
she really hoped this wasn't a prank. Treat it like real, she told
herself, and took a deep breath. Then the other thing he'd said hit
her. Scrawny!? What the--!?

Warnings blared at her from the fighter as impacts were scored against
her craft's shields. Direct impacts. A hydran fighter screamed past
her nose at point blank range, flitting off into the blackness of
space. "Pay attent'n!" The crusty LT's voice blasted into her ear as
the hydran came around for another pass.

Artemis pulled back hard on the stick and juked the small craft into
an evasive roll. She brought the ship's guns online and lined up
against the Hydran fighter. She touched the firing stud and the
fighter bucked as the cannons roared. She rolled to port, sending
lances of fire streaking through the void at the Hydran. She knew she
was good, having already received some of the best training around,
but it was clear she still had a lot to learn.

A second hydran fighter joined the first, weaving a disorienting
pattern of death and destruction around Artemis' Albatross. Despite
all she did the pair just kept coming. it was as if anything she
landed on their shields had no effect. Sirens blaired, displays went
blank, and finally the spacescape disapeared, replaced with the
interior of the Sim Room.

"Crap!" Artemis growled. She banged a fist against the canopy. Before
she could complain about her performance, the simulation started
again.

On and on it went. Different scenarios, different opponents .... and
almost always the same results - Artemis 'dead' or otherwise incapable
of continuing the fight (in three separate cases her fighter had been
forced into the atmosphere, damage sustained up to that point forcing
the cadet to ditch.) There was only two instances where she actually
came out on top, but they were relatively early on in the 'games.'
Unbeknownst to Artemis Darius was doing this on purpose. On and on
and on, and naturally her performance degraded over time, with each
sucessive battle, each sucessive loss .... he was frankly surprised
she hadn't freaked out, or at least said 'up your rectal cavity' and
stormed out of the simulator room ... or something equally originating
from stress, duress, and exhaustion. Finally, when the sim room
apeared this time her cockpit pod powered down, the hatch opening. "ON
YER FEET!" The voice of the lieutenant bellowed from somewhere within
the room.

Artemis leapt from the simulator, nearly ending up on her face. She
was nearly exhausted. But she managed to get to the deck and
straighten herself to attention. This was much harder than being an
Ops cadet had ever been. And she couldn't help fretting over the fact
that her performance seemed to be getting worse with each successive
run.

Darius came 'round the sim pod and was up in her business straight
from the get-go. "Whot'n tha' blazes d'ye call that Cadet?!" He
didn't wait for a responce as he ranted on. "T'weren't flyin's fer
certain, and as fer fightin' I seen monkeys fair a'far sight better'n
whot ye did in there." He paced back and forth in front of Artemis,
hands clasped behind his back, letting her stew for a bit. When he
continued, Darius voice was no more kind than previously, but there
was a distinct, yet subtle change in his mannerisms. "Now, did ye
learn anythin' from this, Cadet?"

"I've got a lot of work ahead of me to be ready for flying a real
fighter, sir," Artemis answered. "Otherwise, I have no explanation
for why my performance was so dismal."

"It's not a mystery, Cadet," Cowboy said as he wandered over to the
pair. "Everyone gets tired, eventually. We're only human." He glanced
over at the El-Aurian standing beside him, and then frowned at the
tapering tips of Artemis' ears, illustrating her own alien heritage.
"Alright, *Ah'm* only human."

After Darius had chased Artemis out of his office, Nathan had quietly
followed, trying to contain his laughter as the lieutenant barked at
Artemis over and over again. He'd also been monitoring the cadet's
performance, along with Carnage, on the monitoring stations nearby.
He, too, was impressed that Artemis hadn't given up or told Slaughter
to shove off; a lot of nuggets wouldn't have handled themselves as
well as she had.

"Yeah, you've got a lotta work ahead of you, but that's not the only
lesson you needed to learn here," he continued. "If you wanna be a
fighter pilot, you gotta be ready at all times, because you never know
when yer gonna be needed out there. There'll be times when yer stuck
out there longer'n any sane person'd wanna be, and no matter how tired
you get, no matter how badly you wanna touch down, yer enemy will
*not* let you. They're out there fer one reason, and one reason only:
to make sure you never make it back here. You listen to Lieutenant
Slaughter, and do what he tells you, and that'll never happen.
Understand?"

"I understand, sir," Artemis said.

The El Aurian snorted. "An' another thing: where was ye wingmate?"

Artemis blinked. She had only ever seen Hydrans on the sensors. "I'm
sorry, sir? My--"

"Yer wingmate!" he interupted her. "Tha one what watches yer scrawny
backside and for which ye do tha' same!" Another rant? Simon says
Yes. "Ye were sittin' in space a full 30 seconds each go afore ye were
engaged! Wingmates're tha' life'n'death of a pilot in tha' black.
They pull ye out o' scraps when yer in over yer head, their fire adds
to yer own, and their very presence forces yer opponent ta react ta
two targets, instead of a lonesome bit o' easy pickin's. An that
wingmate'll be countin' on ye fer exactly the same what yer countin'
on 'im for."

"I'm sorry, sir," Artemis said. "I was not aware that I had a
wingmate for the simulations. I will be more mindful in the future,
sir."

"Yer done fer today, Cadet. From here on out it'll get tougher, yer
days'll be longer, and ye'll be waking up ready ta go back ta bed.
Yer mine till I say yer ready for Final qualifications. Welcome to
tha' Slaughterhouse. Dismissed!"

Starfleet didn't salute. Did the fighter corps? Artemis wasn't sure.
To be certain, though, she saluted anyway. She hadn't lived for many
years, but she was rather certain that today had been the worst day of
her life. The depressing part was that whole part about still being
very young.

Without showing the emotions that were warring beneath the surface,
Artemis left the flight deck. She wasn't sure how she was still on
her feet, but she was. She needed her bed and the oblivion that sleep
would bring.

Nathan watched her go, and then finally allowed himself a short laugh.
"Damn, Carnage, yer one scary sunuvabitch," he said, chuckling.

"Tis tha' pirate in me," Darius confessed. "She's a far sight
better'n the test pilots I've seen," he continued, "who are supposedly
tha' best o' tha' best. Artemis' already got my approval, all she's
got ta do is not quit."

Cowboy nodded in agreement. "Ah don't think that's gonna happen."

"Really now?" Darius looked to the CAG, curious. "What makes ye so
certain, might I ask?"

"'Cause she either stays here, or she goes back to Ops, and this job's
a helluva lot more fun," Cowboy answered with a confident smirk.

"what about your review?" part 1

Lt.Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Paige Sullivan

---

Paige had been on the bridge exactly once, and then she had spent half a second there before having the run into the wash-closet and vomit all over the place. It hadn't been her finest moment, to say the least, though it might mean something if she confessed it hadn't been her most embarrassing either. At this point, it would probably be hue of her to give up the emotion altogether, but she just wasn't Vulcan enough.

She stepped onto the bridge, pleased to see that it was bright, shiny, and neatly put together with no bloodstains on the carpet or smells of scorched flesh in the air. A crewman looked up from a padd as he stood at the tactical arch, and he studied her a moment before pointed to the door on the left-hand side of the bridge.

The Captain's Ready Room.
Zul.

Her stomach lurched as she carefully moved down the ramp toward the door. She stared at the call button for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Just press it and go in," the helmsman said. He was kinda cute, though he was probably married, gay, emotionally unavailable, or in an exclusive relationship -- just like all the kinda cute guys on the Galaxy (not that there were very many of them, in Paige's opinion). "Best to get it over with."

She sighed shortly, then depressed the button, waiting mere nanoseconds before the doors swooshed open. She stepped inside and stood at attention as the doors wooshed closed behind her.

Then her eyes focused on the tall, red-headed Bajoran woman at the Captain's desk. It took one fire of her synapses to make the connection, flashing back to about 40 minutes earlier on her mad dash to beat the tone.

"Eg VARD," the cadet couldn't help but state.

"Excuse me, Cadet?" Iniara began, looking from her LCARS console at the newcomer. The phrase wasn't anything she understood, and considering the Universal Translator hadn't done anything with it, that either meant the cadet's language wasn't known by the UT, or the thing was malfunctioning again. And she really wasn't in the mood to deal with either one of those circumstances right now. "You are...?"

Paige stammered badly, she couldn't seem to get anything out coherently. She wondered briefly where her self-confidence had gone; once upon a time, this wouldn't even have phased her. Hell, if she had an ounce of musical talent for every unexpected situation with embarrassment potential that she'd shrugged and plowed on through, she'd be releasing albums left and right instead of serving on a starship.

"Cadet Paige Sullivan," she finally managed. "Operations. Lieutenant... my lieutenant sent... me down here to report? Because I hadn't yet? And... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I was running late and I'm never late and itotallywazzedaboutitnshouldaseen..."

"Calm down, Cadet; you don't want to give yourself an aneurysm. Have a seat," Iniara continued, indicating the guest chairs. She couldn't help but smile at the poor frazzled girl as she added, "Can I get you anything?" Hopefully something non-caffeinated, she added mentally; Sullivan looked plenty wound up as it was.

"No, thank you," she said, after taking a slow deep breath, eyes closed, before she moved and settled into the chair, though she sat rigidly like she used to for her piano lessons.

"So, I take it you're the one who bumped into me this morning?" Iniara asked, taking a sip of her own half-empty mug of tea.

Paige groaned softly. "Yes, I'm so sorry -- I was warping to get to shift on time and didn't see you until I saw you and then I was so focused on getting there that I was boumis about it. I should have stopped and I'm so sorry. Commander. Ma'am." Iniara chuckled, and not for the first time wondered if she was this high-strung when she'd been the cadet's age. Probably not, she amended with a mental shrug. "Don't worry about it. The hallways are busy during shift changes; it was an honest mistake that could have happened to anyone."

"It doesn't seem to happen to anyone," Paige said, beginning to wish she'd accepted something to drink; her mouth was dry and at the very least it would give her something to hold. "Just to me. But, bomi, iye? Throw it at me." Her expression tightened and she looked up again at the XO. "I didn't know I was supposed to report into you, nobody told me, I was in a really wazzie situation with all the last-minuteness of it all."

"You're... not from Earth, are you?" Iniara asked, still trying to puzzle out some of the strange words the cadet was using. "The way you speak, it's like nothing I've heard before."

"Yeah," Paige said with a soft sigh. "I didn't even notice 'til the Ac'd. I grew up on Mars, in the Arsia Gardens? It's one of the older settlement centers... my freya -- uhm, mother -- is native, so were her parents and so on back to before uni'tion. But the language -- we call it the Jabber? It's more a dialect than anything but there's a lot of slang and terminology or cultural reference. That's why the UT has problems with it. I try to be aware of it now because I get a lot of blank stares, but it's hard to find equivalents in my head sometimes."

Iniara nodded slowly. "Ahhh, well that explains it then; I've never been to Mars. What's it like there?"

"I'm meeting all these people who've never been to Mars," Paige said, shaking her head. "It's close enough to Earth for day's p-top. But I don't know. There's good and bad I guess; it's hard to say because I'm from there? So all the things others would like I don't even notice anymore or find boring. How many times can you go see a dead volcano? I don't care if it is the tallest point in Sol. But a lot of the things I love others don't understand. Except the iggies and most've them are just doris and only pretend they do because they think it's halla fetch." She was speaking fast again, elongating consonants and bastardizing vowels, sometimes skipping over whole syllables in her elaborate verbal dance peppered with foreign words. "You should go though, some time," she said, dark hazel eyes blinking to focus on the XO. "I've started to appreciate it a lot more, now that I'm not there anymore. Though I've always been a saganide."

Iniara was silent for a long moment as she replayed Paige's explanation in her mind, trying to guess at the meaning of some of the words she didn't recognize. Finally she gave up and asked, "What's a saganide?"

"Saganide. It's... a Martian patriot or activist, an idealist. It's after Carl Sagan? He was a twentieth century Earth scientist who was a big proponent of space exploration and humanism and stuff, though it's kinda ironic because he probably wouldn't like the patriotic glean to the philosophy... There's a big monument on Mars to him anyway.

"But Saganides are into the spirit of the Declarations and the Federation Charter and believing that both have been halla corrupted. Like... the Declarations are all about individual rights and responsibilities, social contract and rot? But then Mars enforces some of the strictest telepathic limitations in the Federation and a member of OPRED sits on the Planetary Governing Board. And then there's the idea that Mars and Earth are very different places, and while human Martians and Terries are, you know, human, there're huge cultural, political, and linguistic differences, that even if we're racially similar, we're a different..." She frowned, searching for the correct terminology, sounding very different from the very young woman she usually came across as; she sounded almost adult, almost confident. "Ethnic group, I guess. But even further removed than that. Anyway. There are saganides, small 's' who just like the music and stuff, and then there are Saganides proper noun who understand, embrace and advocate the ideas."

She paused, blinking as though pulling out of her trance and her expression shifted back toward the uncertain barely post-adolescent girl she was.

"Heva, I warped nint, iye? Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Iniara smiled and took another sip of her tea. While she was beginning to get used to the rhythm of the cadet's speech, the fact that Iniara had learned Standard no more than a decade ago meant that occasionally she ran into problems understanding it.

"It sounds like you are very passionate about your home," she continued. "What made you decide to leave and join Starfleet? And why choose Operations?"

"what about your review?" part 2

Lt.Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Paige Sullivan

---

"It sounds like you are very passionate about your home," she continued. "What made you decide to leave and join Starfleet? And why choose Operations?"

Paige shrugged a little, chewing on the inside of her upper lip. "You mind if I get some Vulcan tea?" she asked. "Iced?" It would be an abomination to any Vulcan, but it had, for some reason, become a staple on Mars over the past century or so.

"Sure thing." Iniara stood and headed to the replicator, frowning slightly as one of her hips popped, though she was at least thankful for the opportunity to get some blood flowing back into her legs. A moment later she returned with two glasses, and passed the frosty-looking one over to Paige.

She smiled and thanked the XO as she sipped. "Uhm. Why did I join Starfleet? I didn't know what the hell else to do I guess. Originally I was just going to pick up and go wherever, but Steve, my step-dad, wanted me to do something with my life. He got me clearance to shadow one of his Ops pamnes at Utopia and I just liked it, I had a knack for it. They're the only courses I've ever done really well at that don't have anything to do with Mars or popular music. I have to work halla hard, but I found I don't mind it. Especially the bio-neural technology, I think it's fascinating and fun to work with. Professor Hanover -- he's one of the pioneers for the technology? -- he kind of became my mentor at the Ac'd. He's why I'm here in the first place." She paused. "You were Ops before XO, weren't you?"

Iniara nodded once, inhaling the steamy scent of her own tea as she let the warmth of the mug seep into her fingers. "I was, though the decision to enter Operations was somewhat made for me. I began my Starfleet career in Security."

"That's kind of a shift, isn't it?" Paige asked, raising her eyebrow. "How did they convince you to change?"

For a moment Iniara wondered just how forthcoming she should be. After all, she'd been 'convinced' to switch departments after she'd delivered a sound beating to someone she'd been assigned to protect, all because her temper had gotten the best of her. The XO wasn't one to lie or even embellish the truth, but she wasn't sure a tale of how she'd thrashed her Cardassian ex-lover just because he'd laughed at her haircut would be particularly inspiring to the young cadet.

"Starfleet can be...very persuasive," she answered after a long moment, her expression darkening slightly.

"Are you happy with it? I mean... your career is in a completely different place now."

"I suppose I am. After we liberated Bajor from the Cardassians and the Militia was organized, Security seemed like a natural fit for me. But-- and it took me a couple years to realize this-- there aren't as many opportunities for advancement as there are in other fields, or opportunities to really make a difference. Had I stayed in Security, I'd probably still be a grunt right now." Iniara grinned, then added, "I wasn't too happy about the switch back then, but I've grown accustomed to it."

"I don't know," Paige murmured, shaking her head. "I don't think I could do anything else. Maybe engineering, but then I'd have to work with engineers every single day. But definitely not something like security. La would see me coming and I would be able to subdue them just because they're holling at the idea." She paused. "I mean, what kind of chance would I have against someone like... 'Commander K'aa? Or a Klingon?"

Images of the fight with K'aa flashed through Iniara's mind, but she pushed them away and focused on Paige. "You'd be surprised how much you can do when you really put your mind to it... or when your life is on the line. Remember, the key is to fight with brains, not brawn. Focus, analyze, strategize, improvise... those sorts of skills can save your life, or give you the edge in a fight, or at the very least allow you to defend yourself long enough to escape an attacker."

The cadet nodded slowly. "That's what all the professors tell you," she said, "but I'm not all that sure about it. Anyway. People've told me I should talk to, uhm, Commander Smith? That she might be able to help. So I'm going to go ahead and brave that. See if... any good'll come of it." She smiled slightly. "Little scared, heard a lot of stories, she's kind of famous. Infamous? And all that."

"Training with Commander Smith couldn't hurt," Iniara commented, then paused, before adding, "That may not be the best way to phrase it... she can definitely improve your fighting skills, although you may end up with a few bruises along the way. However, the ship does have an internal bulletin board system, and I know it lists most of the martial arts, self-defense, aerobic, and related classes. There should be something listed there which you might find useful or helpful, if Commander Smith's techniques are too much for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Paige said, wrinkling her nose, her upper lip curling slightly on one side. Her twentieth-century earth culture professor at the Academy called it her Elvis face.

"And now that we've gone through every other topic in the quadrant," the XO continued with a grin, "we do need to at least touch on the real reason you're on board this ship. I've already reviewed the progress reports from your shift supervisor, but I'm curious to learn how you are finding starship duty thus far."

Paige shifted, her anxiety beginning to peak again. She'd finally gotten somewhere close to comfortable and now they were back to this.

"I'm enjoying it," she said, "I'm learning a lot. Getting thrown in the deep-end nint. I don't know I'm swimming yet, but I'm puppy paddling anyway." She made a small motion with her hands in front of her. "My lieutenant's a little lubbie, but he seems... to be a good guy. And I'm getting to know some of my cruise classmates. But. I
mean, what do you want to know? I don't know how this is supposed to go."

"Well, there's nowhere it's 'supposed' to go. As with pretty much every aspect of your career from here on out, where you choose to go is up to you." The XO paused, and then added, "But I am most interested in what sorts of tasks you find most enjoyable thus far...as well as what you find least enjoyable, for that matter."

Paige blew at flyaway bangs and absently tried to smooth them down with her hand; they didn't cooperate, but then, they never did.

"I don't know," she said. "It's not really what I expected. I thought I'd mostly be doing stupid brainless stuff, like reorganizing the chips and inventorying the packs, and there's defi a lot of that. But with the Hydran thing nint, I ended up running almost the whole project by myself. I wasn't really ready for that, but it was fetch, it was... it was okay. And I seemed to do a pretty good job at it, which... all the engineering officers were looking at me like I was nuts -- who is this kid, right?" She offered a nervous smile, playing again with her hair. "I don't really dislike any of it. Of course there's stuff that's not particularly enjoyable, but I just figure that's how you learn and someone has to do it. Gotta work your way up I guess. I do wish my lieutenant wouldn't treat me like I'm a two-year-old though, having to go back to him for every step of my way make it really hard to get anything accomplished." She realized then, the lieutenant probably wouldn't appreciate it if that comment came back to bite him. "But that's just his management style and I'm sure it'll get looser."

"Don't worry, I won't tell him you said that," Iniara commented with a small smile, unable to keep from picking up on that particular emotion. "I've read the reports on your work with the Hydran containment cells; very impressive. It's good to see that you can take charge and lead a team; that's a skill that can't really be taught."

She paused for a moment, then added, "I know graduation is still a way off, but have you thought about what sort of assignment you want to put in for?"

Paige shrugged. "I dunno. Probably a deep space station or something. I want to get out of Sol, but..." She sipped her tea. "I'm probably more the research and tinker type. Than the... the go out and find strange new worlds type."

"I see. On this ship we seem to have a habit of keeping our cadets once they graduate. I don't suppose you'd be at all interested in staying around?"

She stared at the XO a minute. "I... I don't know. I mean, I guess it depends on how it goes. Right? I'm only a few weeks in, I have until May and so... I don't have to say now, do I?"

"No, of course not. You don't even have to think about it now if you don't want to; I just wanted to make you aware of that possibility."

"Well thank you," Paige said, nodding. "I-- I appreciate it." She smiled a little, brushing hair from her forehead. "I like the Galaxy, it's an interesting ship. But it depends what all's going on when I get my commission."

Iniara nodded. "Of course. Well, I think I have all the information I need from you...are there any other questions you have for me?"

"No, I don't think so," Paige said. "Can you get me out of having to do my reports?" she raised her eyebrow. "The paperwork's going to kill me."

The XO chuckled. "Unfortunately, no. Just wait until you get to my level, though; you'll be wishing for the amount of paperwork you had as a cadet."

"Don't tell me things like that," she muttered, "I'm already terrified to graduate."

"That day will be here before you know it, so..." Iniara reached for her drink, took a sip, then set the lukewarm beverage aside. "Don't worry too much about it. I know graduation may seem like an intimidating prospect, but four years of the Academy will prepare you for just about anything you'll run into out here. You'll be just fine."

"Yeah. I think so too, most of the time," Paige said. "Ma'am, you probably have a hundred things to do and I need to get my paperwork done and then crawl through about three miles of tubes before my shift is done." She smiled slightly. "But... I appreciate you, taking the time to talk to me, it's been really helpful."

Truthfully, the XO did have plenty of things to do, but was enjoying this rare opportunity to procrastinate. But, she supposed that Paige was correct; it was about time to get back to work. "Anytime, Cadet; my door is always open if you need me. Don't let that paperwork eat you alive."

"Y-ya," Paige said, eyes wide as she stood. "I'll try. You, either, 'Commander. Ma'am. And... thanks."

"You're welcome," Iniara added with a smile. "And good luck with the tubes."

Dark and Story night

Lieutenant (JG) Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova
Intelligence Officer, Technical Operations
USS Galaxy

It was a Dark and Story night. 'Story', you say? 'Shouldn't it be
Stormy?' Well, if you want to use the usual cliche then sure, stormy.
But tonight there was no storm, despite the darkness. Instead it was
a 'story' night, as the events that were to transpire harken back to
events recalled as but a story to young Valentina. It was the story
of a tragedy, the story of one never fully in controll of her life,
the story of those desiring to use that which they do not understand
for 'the protection of the Federation' so long as such aims were also
for their own benifit.

It is the story of a masacre that will never make the headlines.
Dozens of families will be shortly receiving notices that a loved one
has passed away due to an unfortunate accident.

Accident. They don't know the half of it.

Eve has awoken. Eve is angry.

Eve is a powerhouse of uninhibited emotion without the rational moral
control we feeling humanoids take for granted, lacking the logicaly
induced compassion that vulcans acknowledge but do not really truly
understand.

342 scientists, engineers, and ancilliary staff lie broken, dead or
dying. They lie in this manner because of the greed of few, the
failure of a few others to comprehend the situation, and the ignorance
of all as to what exactly they were dealing with. No one would listen
to Valentina crying. No one would pay heed to the warnings she gave
in what most would find to be a disturbing lack of passion and emotion
in her voice, as though she were a conduit for something else.

The girl herself lay broken in a random corridor somewhere.
Lacerations and burns are scattered along her entire body. Her arms
and legs do not bleed; her torso leaks like a seive. She cries her
pain, her anguish.

So alone.

Helpless and hopeless is her future.

So scared.

As her world fades to black, it is acompanied by a familiar tingle.
She knows she should remember what it is but cannot. A chill envelops
her neck, spreads through her body, and she surrenders to the
releasing bliss of the Void.

"It Never Rains... It Pours"

Lt. Commander Th"khiss K'aa, Prisoner
Lt. Jocelyn McRae, Security Officer (NPC)

Brig, USS Galaxy
=============

"Fzzt."

The sound was barely audible, almost comical in its lack of volume. At
first, Jocelyn McRae thought that the Gorn prisoner broke wind in his
cell. Commander K'aa looked up from the cell's cot with a curious
look, taking a deep sniff at the air.

~Sick bastard! Murderous traitor AND likes the smell of his own farts! Euugh!~

When the brig's lighting started to flicker, Lieutenant McRae
performed the usual diagnostics on the brig's systems, finding
everything in the 'green'. The main lights strobed once and ceased,
replaced by the brig's crimson emergency lighting. The Security
officer's blood turned to ice as she looked at the reptilian who
continued reading Kriefhoff's book, unmoving other than the occasional
flicker of his nictitating membranes.

~Good. Field seems to be working. Leftover from the nuke maybe?~
McRae decided that a quick visual check of the field's emergency panel
was definitely in order, despite having to be closer to the prisoner
than she'd like. He was… alien. Sinister in appearance and action,
Th'Khiss K'aa's reputation from the Miranda almost predicted what he
did to the Captain. A squad of twenty Marines from the 101st were
still committed in the Van-Gelder Institute for something K'aa had
done. Now, the smug traitor spent his days in a cell, feeding when
it pleased him and reading to his heart's content.

~Bastard.~

"Sssmell that, Lieutenant?", the reptilian rumbled in his deep basso.
The sound was something of a shock to her – the prisoner *never* spoke
to anyone other than Commander Corgan and Krieghoff. The voice caused
Jocelyn to freeze at the panel.

"No. Lunch not agreeing with you, traitor? Or are you breaking wind again?"

"Hrmmmmm… breaking wind? No", K'aa hissed. "Don't you senssse
sssomething different in the air?"

Jocelyn sneered at the Gorn as she cracked open the panel. "No – I
guess the Gorn sense of smell's better than a humans", she said hoping
that the curt tone of her voice would end the conversation.

"Quite the opposssite, in fact", the reptilian said quietly as he
continued to read. "The Gorn can barely sssmaell at all – but they
can tassste. Glandsss in the tongue react to airborne particlesss
much like your Terran felinessss – not ssscent, but sssimilar I
sssuppossse. Excellent for noticing, sssay… the floral hints of your
perfume… that fact that you're menssstrating… the lack of ozone in the
air."

~Sick fuck! You can smell my freaking… OZONE???~ McRae's move to her
phaser was a fraction of a second too slow as she caught Krieghoff's
book square in the stomach, propelled by over three-hundred pounds of
psychopathic Gorn.

"Sssmallss like… freedom, yess?"

For the first time in days, warm air bathed K'aa's scales and he drew
in deep lungfulls of breath not hinted with deep, unforgiving chill.
"Yesss… freedom! And to what do I owe the pleassssure Lieutenant?
Sssurely a reward isss in order. Here… a voyage for your good work
and effortsss." A cold, powerful clay grabbed Jocelyn by the leg and
threw her hard against the stainless steel wall panel opposite the
Brig's security control.

"And now to businesss", K'aa growled eagerly. His unexpected freedom
must have been from some sort of critical systems failure - perhaps
something that can be exploited? More lungfuls of air rolled over his
tongue, and slowly the Gorn made his way to one of the conduit
junctions in the ceiling. The large reptile reached to unhinge the
node access, and recoiled when it sprung open and two small, furry
spheres dropped from the ceiling,

"By He Who Mussst Not be Named… what…"

A beam of bright orange light struck the ceiling panel, causing K'aa
to flinch as sparks arced from the fused metal. He looked down to see
a barely conscious Jocelyn McRae shakily raising her phaser, but her
motor control was hindered by the severe concussion on the back of her
head. She had one shot left in her, and she gritted her teeth and
fired… and missed.

The ceiling above K'aa was scored by two welded streaks of burnt
metal, and he looked up quickly, then at the human female who had
dropped her weapon, and smiled. It wasn't a gentle smile, but one of
a Predator who had not eaten for days and remembered that fresh meat
was to be had.

His smile widened. "Firssst thing'sss first, my dear. I promissse…
I'l be merci…"

K'aa never finished his sentence as the ceiling panel ruptured and
hundreds upon hundreds of small furry spheres fell from the Galaxy's
air-conditioning ducts. The first hundred or so, he swatted away, the
second were an inconvenience, as was the third. By the time the tenth
fell, the Brig was almost completely filled and only Jocelyn's area
next to the entrance was marginally free of Tribble. A contented,
pleasant purring filled the cells, and Jocelyn was kept awake by one
nudging her under her armpit. She managed a tap on her com-badge as
she scratched one of her saviours behind its... ears?

"Ops to the Brig… I need a forklift here… and a crowbar… and a cattle-prod…"

"The Final Lesson" - Part Nine

Saul Bental
Ella Grey

****

With the black jumpsuit and the black gloves, Saul Bental looked like
a burglar or a mercenary telepath. The attire, Ella knew, wasn't just
to make an impression. It was functional.

Unlike on the Galaxy, there were plenty of places on Deep Space 4
where you could get full privacy without going out of your way. Saul
picked the service access hallway because of the portholes - he and
Ella could always claim that they went star seeing. The pylon they
were in had a nice view - the everyday traffic of shuttles, transports
could be seen through the narrow hatches, and beyond it the stars.

Always there, omnipresent.

Like death.

Saul produced the small transparent canister. The label stated that it
was a fine product of Delta, fit for Humanoids of any sex. The side
effects for certain species were also mentioned, in a smaller font on
the back that resembled a convoy of tan-colored ants.

The perfume was called, how appropriate, 'Femme Fatale'.

It wasn't the pinkish liquid within men needed to worry about, though.
"The exterior is coated with a molecular layer of a certain substance
which can infiltrate Human skin. It dissolves quickly, and can be
traced only if you know exactly what to look for. There's an antidote
which prevents the material to penetrate the lymphatic system until
the poison dissolves. Mix it with some water and drink if you're going
to handle the perfume with bare hands. It lasts six hours so don't let
anyone scan you before it's off."

Saul placed both the perfume and the finger sized bottle on the bench
between them.

Ella looked at the bottles and then her hands. "How much time will it take?"

"Depends. Got a sample of his genome? If not, about a minute before he
begins to feel weakness and exhaustion, and then twelve before he goes
unconscious. You need to prevent him from alerting medical during that
period."

Twelve minutes, Ella thought. It was a long time and yet ... not.
"Thank you, Saul."

He shrugged.

She looked at him. "Are you ...?"

There were so many ways to end that sentence. Angry? Bored? Disgusted?

"... disappointed in me?" Ella finished.

The Dutchman shifted his gaze from the stars to her eyes. His stoic
indifference did not look bored or disappointed to her now, but full
of acceptance.

"No, I am not. Why?"

"Because of what I'm doing," Ella replied. "I know it's, well,
different is one way to put it."

"'Ending a person's life' is the way to put it."

Outside, the shuttles continued their whirlwind dance. In the
confinements of the access corridor the distant hum of the machinery
pierced their ears, like a remote tide.

"In stellar markets there's something brokers call 'stakes level'. You
want to enter a higher stakes market, you should be aware that you
will have much more to lose. Some times, the risk isn't worth the
potential net profit so people just don't invent in these markets. But
some still do, for their own reasons. 'Life' is the commodity with the
highest stakes. 'Dear John' knows that if he threatens people's life,
or takes contracts, the targets can resist. He knows he could die
tomorrow. If he still chooses to be in the high stakes market that's
his problem, not yours."

Saul delivered his thoughts in short, sharp sentences. As soon as he
was done he felt stupid for lecturing Ella, but this was his opinion.
He thought she should hear it if she was so concerned about it. "You
are threatened, you eliminate the threat and make sure it won't
return. You're only doing what you must. So no, I'm not disappointed.
Just..."

A wry smirk appeared on Saul's face.

"What?" She asked.

"I realize now why Eela's Katra chose you."

Ella tried to smile. "Yeah. Well, I should get going."

"Sure thing."

Saul took her hand. She felt something cold brushing against her palm.
"This goes into your mouth. You'll hardly feel it. If things go bad
you press it hard with the tongue - it can identify the difference
between the gums and the tongue."

"You mean if Daro gets me before I get him?" Ella now gave a faint
smile. "You know, for an Starfleet officer you do this all pretty
well."

"There's more than what they teach in the academy."

With a grunt, he rose from the bench.

"Will you tell me about it someday?" She asked.

Some day, thought Saul. Many intelligence agents fantasize on that day
when they could sit down, write their memoirs, and tell all that was
kept stored and locked away within the confinements of their mind.

The really good ones didn't.

Besides, there was a strong possibility he'll never get the chance,
considering the messages he got from back on Utrecht III ever since he
created an account at Zalman and Zalman's.

"Go take care of your business, Ella."

"Road To Restoration - Part II"

Lt. (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineering Officer

With appearances of (in backflashes):
Lt. Dhanishta Eshe - CEO
Lt. (Jg) Faylin McAlister - JAG
Lt. Ophelia Zamora - JAG

*** USS Galaxy, Eshe/McDowell's Quarters ***

The teacup dematerialised before Michael's eyes after he'd placed it back in
the Replicator. The glow of the process reflected in his face because the
lights in the room were dimmed to 30 percent of nominal. Any higher setting
would probably wake Dhani which was something he wanted to avoid. She of all
persons could use a whole night of uninterupted sleep.

The chronometer near the computer console told Michael it was nearly 02:30
hours. Awfully early to be up and about if you thought of it. But there's no
way getting around that if you're on the Graveyard shift.

Michael silently walked back into the bedroom and into the darkness. Over at
the other side of the bed lay his clothes. Now, to get to them and get
dressed without disturbing Dhani...that would be somewhat tricky.

*** USS Galaxy, McAlister's Office - First session, 5 months ago ***

"You have evidence to these claims?" Fay questioned.

Zamora's posture straightened. "If so, it's going to get extremely
messy......"

"Quickly....." McAlister responded.

The two regarded each other for a moment before Ophelia responded. "I'll
need what you have for evidence, then I will contact Starfleet JAG
headquarters personally." She paused, looking at McAlister and timidly
smiled. "I'm going to give that Klingon a laxative.........."

Dhanishta wasn't in good humor by this point of the story. She offered them
a forced smile before she said again, "There's more." offering up a raised
eyebrow of her own.

Dhanishta regarded the two women for a moment noting how they had stabilized
their report with each other. This would prove to be an interesting dynamic
she thought.

"These event took place in 2377." Dhanishta stated for the record. "A full
account of Michaels statement, along with the statements of Captain Elena
Varrel and Master Chief Julian are also contained." She handed over a padd
containing McDowell's service record.

"For the record I would like to state that I have known McDowell for several
years, both in the capacity of being the junior officer and of more recent
times of being his superior. In all the time I have known him, he has
proved to be a dedicated Starfleet officer. He conforms to protocol and
regulations at all time." She maintained her eye contact with both women,
never pausing to look at Michael for any sort of confirmation or gratitude
for what she was saying.

"If you check his record you will see evidence to support that. Several
years prior to the incident, in 76, McDowell was promoted to Lieutenant
Commander. Ten weeks later he took a voluntary demotion, in fact he
*requested it*. The reason being that prior to the promotion he had been
injured and suffered with amnesia, whilst he regained most of his memory
over time, he felt that his knowledge could have been impaired and thus
presented a possibility of danger to the crew if in a crisis he could not
recall the information needed to solve the situation."

Dhani paused for emphasis, "Ladies, these accusations of ignoring protocol
and carrying out unauthorized upgrades to a ship are not the actions of a
man *that* devoted to duty." She told them pointedly.

Ophelia straightened her posture before squarely looking Dhani in the eyes.
"Are you personally involved with Michael?"

Dhanishta frowned, "What does that have to do with any of this?" she asked,
already having a sneaking feeling that whatever she said would be
discredited because of her relationship with him. She shook her head at
the thought. No matter her personal feeling towards Michael,
what she said was truth, no two ways about it.

"Has a lot to do with things actually." She stated with a gravely tone as
she gathered the padds and information that they had given her. Pushing off
out of her seat, she scratched the base of her neck with her free left hand.
Taking a moment, she cleared her throat before linking the padds together
into her console. Once satisfied that the downloading process had begun,
she placed a call to Starfleet JAG outlet in Tuscany.

Offering a slight smile to the rather portly gentleman that appeared on the
screen, Ophelia spoke. "Jerry....."

"Lia! How's the new posting?"

"Interesting...Hey...I've got some material that I'm sending you concerning
a case that just popped up. If you could look at it and start the wheels
moving...I'd appreciate it."

"Give me twenty minutes...and I'll contact ya back counselor......By the
way...nice seeing you again."

"Same Jer...bye now." Spinning around, Ophelia held her guests gazes. "I'll
know something
in twenty. Jerry is a very proficient commander...and he'll have an
official ruling in that time....I'm sorry, I couldn't make it any quicker
than that."

Dhanishta looked to Michael with a pensive expression. Slowly she sat down
and took in a long breath. Her eyes roamed the room uncomfortably for a
moment before she winced and said in a small voice, "There's er.." she half
chuckled, "more." she concluded, looking up apologetically.

Ophelia smiled with a gentle interest. "It's okay."

"Good grief." McAlister muttered as she took a long draw from her coffee
cup.

Dhani rubbed her chin for a while; this is where things really got
interesting. She tilted her head from side to side deliberating, scratching
her nose she sucked in her lips and turned to Michael, "You wanna tell her
the next bit or ask her to contact Commodore Jim Westmoreland and
skedaddle?" she asked him quietly.

*** USS Galaxy, Eshe/McDowell's Quarters - The present ***

Michael paused a moment with what he was doing while he thought back of
Lieutenant' McAlister's remark. Must've been her bad hair day or something.
Whatever the case, in his opinion her condescending comments were out of
line. The fact that he hadn't said anything about it was because usually he
wasn't one to seek an argument. But it did came close.

>From that point forward the discussion became more...interesting.

~No, 'interesting' doesn't quite cover it. Make that 'sinister'. ~ Michael
picked up a few PADDs containing the latest diagnostics of the Main Sensor
Array. Meanwhile his mind continued to 'replay' the conversation.

*** USS Galaxy, McAlister's Office - First session, 5 months ago ***

Ophelia held up her hand in interuption. "Let's just get the 'whole' story
out and then we will go from there shall we?"

Michael clenched his teeth and sighed. Lieutenant McAllister was starting to
get on his nerves. What was her problem? Was his case below her standards or
was she just bored out of her skull? Whatever the case, he wouldn't mind
continuing this conversation without her. "Before Lieutenant Eshe and I
returned to the Galaxy we first went to Deep Space 5 and told everything to
Commodore Jim Westmoreland. And with everything I mean 'everything',
including all what we found out by doing our own private investigation. That
was what Lieutenant Eshe was referring to when she said 'There's more'."

He looked up to Lieutenant Zamora. "But that too should be on record. We
specifically asked Commodore Westmoreland to inform Starfleet Command and
send them the evidence we gathered. I'm sure that the Commander will find it
and send it through."

Dhanishta had held her tongue long enough, Michael had a tendency to skip
the details, and Dhani was more the perfectionist, preferring 'everything'
to be on the table.

"We have evidence to confirm that Captain Elena Varrel and Master Chief
Julian were working for Section 31." If that statement didn't get their
attention, or finally make them both realize the severity of the situation
than nothing would. "Section 31 were manufacturing a
prototype cloaking device. These prototypes, two of them, were being carried
on the freighter. News of this was leaked to the Orions and they attacked
the ship to get them. They managed to get one, yet the other was destroyed
along with the freighter. The initial investigation of the debris field
indicated partials that made up the integral compounds of a cloaking device,
that is how we found out the truth. We went in undercover on to an Orion
vessel to find out the
operative that leaked the information to the Orions in the first place. His
testimony is attached, unfortunately we were unable to apprehend him, we did
however sabotage the second cloaking device." Dhanishta looked at them both
with a certain amount of weariness as
she let out a long held breath and finally relaxed in the chair. She was
extremely glad that neither of them were telepaths, and that Michael had
never questioned her about how, or rather why, she let that third, nameless,
operative escape.

"That's the whole all." she finally concluded looking at them all in turn,
wondering how that news was to be accepted.

"Bullshit." McAlister muttered through glossed lips. "Nothing is ever the
'whole all' with section 31."

A single eyebrow arched yet again as Zamora sighed. Ignoring the look,
Ophelia turned towards her 'clients'

"Alright.....this will take more time than expected, especially with the new
information. However, until the charges are thoroughly investigated, in my
professional opinion I do not see any reason why you can not resume your
role as a Starfleet officer. Let me forward
the information to who I need to....and I'll have an answer shortly....."
Turning in her chair, her fingers dove above the console sending the
required information to the proper authorities.
"Now...we wait a while..."

Dhanishta eyed Faylin. She wasn't wrong. That wasn't everything. And it
wouldn't be. She hadn't detailed 'how' they got the information that set
them on their way to uncover this scandal. Nor did she detail who that
operative was, and that one fact would haunt her for a long time to come. He
was still alive, after all this time... she pushed the memories aside and
took Michaels hand, squeezing it for her own sense of reassurance rather
than his. Casting a weak smile to her 'better half' (for it was appearing
more day by day that he was a far better person than she) she frowned and
looked back to the girls, "All this information was given to Commodore
Westmoreland, in 82, that's almost two years ago now," ~wow has it really
been that long?~ she questioned herself suddenly, "nothing has happened in
all that time. So what's our.." she paused and looked at Michael, "what's
his chance's now?" she asked still looking at the love of her life, a soft
rueful smile gracing her lips.

*** USS Galaxy, Eshe/McDowell's Quarters - The present ***

~In hindsight? Not bad actually, not bad at all. It just never really looked
that way.~ Michael smiled briefly when he made that observation and it was
reflected by the mirror he was looking in. But the smile faded. Instead
there appeared a questioning frown on his face. It didn't take more than a
split second until Michael noticed what was missing.

"Duh..." he mumbled and turned away from the mirror. A moment later he came
walking back while trying to attach two pips to his collar. The pips
reflected a soft golden glow in the dimned light. The contrast with the the
black collar seemed to somehow even amplify it.

When Michael was done he took one more look into the mirror. Once more he
was wearing a Starfleet uniform...and it felt good, regardless of all what
had happened in the past years.

"The Final Lesson" - Part Ten

*****

Ella and I parted ways after that night and I didn't hear from her
until a few years ago when a women named Laura Harper tracked me down.

Laura offered a commission from Ella, was very tight lipped about the
girl's life - other than to mention Ella was an engineer in Starfleet,
which amused me to no end - and obviously strongly disapproved of what
her employer was doing.

She also dressed all in black.

I found Flitt again and was ready to make the creep all kinds of dead
when Ella suddenly pulled out of the deal. She was smart enough to
give me a 'sorry for your trouble' fee and so I simply shrugged and
went on about my life.

I decided, however, to learn sign language. You never knew when you
might need certain skills. Case in point, two weeks ago a strangely
attractive Klingon woman commissioned a hit on a Ktarian named
Angelienea on board the USS Galaxy. And wouldn't you know who also
served on that ship? It wasn't hard to convince the Greys to visit
their daughter with their brand new interpreter.

I should have known that it was too good to be true.

What can I say? I was smug, I was too confident, and I - the assassin
who should have known better - was too trusting. I never should have
taken that perfume bottle from her.

I underestimated Ella Grey and it killed me.

*****

Twelve minutes is a lifetime.

I'd like to say that he slips away quietly but the end is violent. I
can't decide if it's a poetic ode to his life or just plain cruel. His
body jerks, fluid is coming from his ears, and he's coughing up blood.
His eyes are wide and terrified.

"Ella," He chokes and holds out his hand, even though I'm sure he
thinks I won't take it. I surprise him by grabbing on with both of my
bare hands and holding tight. His eyes widen even more and then he
chuckles even as his body spasms.

"Brilliant," Daro Cole laughs and then dies a second later before the
apology can leave my mouth. It's better that way, I decide. There are
just some things that you can't fix with an inadequate 'I'm sorry.'

I feel the sudden burn of my skin and it's excruciating. And welcome
for many reasons.

I hit my comm badge. "Grey to Sickbay. There's been some kind of
accident ... John Calloway's guest quarters. He's dead." I gasp and
it's not fake. "I think there's something wrong. I feel ..."

I could have taken the antidote - had it hidden away as a last resort
- but I thought I had a better chance this way. I was betting on
getting saved before it was too late. And if they were late, at the
moment, despite all that I had done to get to this point, I just
didn't care.

My last thought as I collapsed on the floor by Cole was that, even
though I didn't know his name, I'm pretty sure he had been human.

His blood was red.

Fur Will Fly

Lt. JG Artim Shivar - Chief of Life Sciences
Pilot Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari - Saber 6

"Fur Will Fly"
========================================

Crewman Aaron Kaldair thought today would be another a normal day on the flight deck. Then again normal was different every day around here but there was at least some sort of routine one could settle into. Fix a broken power relay here, adjust a targeting scanner there, and usually get yelled at by some hotshot pilot that his prized bird wasn't absolutely perfect. Things were at least marginally predictable.

Today he wasn't even supposed to be that busy. All that was on his plate for the first part of his shift was to prep Sabers 6 and 12 for a routine training flight. Six was the fox's bird and he was perhaps the one pilot in the group that wasn't especially demanding. At least he didn't bark at the techs like some of the others. Only annoyance was that he tended to leave fur in places you'd never expect to find fur. As a human Aaron probably didn't appreciate what having fur was like but that didn't stop him from being bothered by it. From the flight plan it seemed like the fox was taking out some lab jockey named Shivar for a qualification refresher.

"What does some science geek need with a fighter qualifcation?" Aaron said to noone in particular as he made his way up to Saber 6 and started his walk around.

"Because he wasn't always a science geek." The voice seemed to come out of nowhere and it was close...very close. And it was coming from...a kid...no...wait... "That Shivar has been flying since your father was in high school crewman. And yes, he is a little short for a pilot."

It was THAT Shivar. Even down in fighter country stories were told about the kid that wasn't a kid. Some said he could out drink a Klingon. Some said he'd been a holodrama star and a university professor. A few dared say he still slept with a teddy bear.

"Sorry lieutenant. Just don't get many blue shirts down here...or kids...er...", Aaron stopped knowing he'd said something stupid and hoped Artim wouldn't come down on him. Those stories were legend as well.

"Don't worry about it. I'm in a good mood. Seen fuzzball yet?", Artim replied. Getting in a cockpit always made the old kids day. Getting in the cockpit of a fighter was even better.

"Not yet, I just got here. He's usually early though, wonder what's keeping him." Aaron stopped near the rear of the fighter when his scan revealed something unusual in the impulse manifold.

"Must be a bad fur day." Artim smirked a bit as he walked over to where Aaron was standing. "Problem?"

"Not sure...but..." Aaron and Artim's heads both jerked up at the same time to see something that was definitely a problem. It was Elrin and bad fur day didn't even begin to describe things.

"These...things...must....die! Fur is going to fly!"

The Vulpine, normally immaculately groomed and quite docile, seemed more like a rabid animal. His fur was disheveled and his uniform appeared to be hastily thrown on. Most telling were his eyes, bloodshot as if he hadn't slept a wink all night. There was also something in his hands. In each furry paw sat what appeared to be a lump of brown fur making some sort of soft trilling sound.

"What's wrong sir?" Aaron asked in a concerned not knowing he had just jumped headlong onto a photon grenade.

"These...things! Kept me up all night! Hundreds of them! All in the panels outside my quarters. Three dozen more in the bathroom! The screeching...the SCREECHING!", Elrin was definitely unusually frantic, something that was very unlike him.

"Screeching...they sound awfully quiet to me. Quite cute actually." Aaron was still clueless as to what the things were though Artim knew exactly what they might be.

"Back off Crewman. If these are what I think they might be they're known to cause...different effects in some species. Don't forget our vulpine friend here has a different auditory range then we do. Could be hearing something we're not." , Artim tried to explain calmly while taking one of the creatures from the vulpine's hand.

"The noise!" Elrin was nearly screaming at this point "Must...be more here...I can...hear...more...not here!"

Artim and Aaron looked at each other and then to the impulse manifold. The tech only had to slightly loosen the service panel for it burst free from the fighter. Before they could react they were both calf deep in the fur balls and Elrin was on the floor in a fetal position covering his ears.

"They ate the whole manifold! What the hell are these things!" Aaron screamed as his eyes confirmed what his tricorder had indicated. Artim looked down to the panic striken Kit'sarin for a moment and then back to Kaldair.

"Quite possibly our worst nightmare."

"A Normal Court Martial"

Starring Ensign Jill Normal

(Love ya Dru for the idea....)





"Ok for the record...this is Stardate 5747.1 A general Court Martial into the events leading up to and including the complete destruction of the United Starship Galaxy and the role played byher sole survivor Ensign Jillian Ann Normal....Adjutant General Homer K . Draeger presiding."

The gleaming polished surfaces of the Utopia Planatia Courtroom were mere window dressing for the serious mood here. A somber, dour faced crowd filled the viewing galley, reporters clicked thier camera from the press box, and Judge Draegers small sigh of disaproval already boded ill for the young girl sitting on the front rom.

~~How did it ever come to this?~ Jill Normal wondered to herself for not th first time in the last several weeks. First the amazing violence of the sudden attack that had led to the destruction of the USS Galaxy leaving her as sole survivor out of nearly 1000 crewmates, and now....this trial of the century with her in the hot seat.

Were they trying to pin it all on her?

She had fought so hard to save the ship....indeed it seemed that she had been the only person trying.....surely they couldnt hope to pin it on her?

Her attorney advised differently.

Not only did they hope to....but they were more than capable of doing so.

At the heart of the prosecution was one Commander Max Snerdly. The perfect picture of a snide, unmerciful lawyer complete with his greased back hair and thin curled up mustashe.

His beady eyes gleamed with malevolence as he tic'd down the list of Jill's 'crimes' ranging everywhere from gross negligence of duty, to habitually kicking small puppy dogs.

The press was already branding her as the Benedict Arnold of the 24th Century.

"Furthermore your Honor," Snerdley was summing up, " We shall prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that young Miss Normal not only caused the death of 1000 crewmates, but also she is in the habit of molesting small Deltan children in her off hours."

A rumble of disaproval ran through the crowd. Deltan child porn was a serious subject as of late, and woe to those that sought to explore its vile depths.

Judge Draeger thumped his small mallet for order, and nodded for Snerdley to call his first witness.

"A pleasure you honor...." the lawyer oozed, "The Prosecution calls.....Miss Jillian Ann Normal, Starfleet Exploration Command."

(OOC: Lawyer...oozed.....is that redundant?)

Nervously taking the stand amidst boos and catcalls from the balcony above, Jill took the oath of honesty and sat down in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Now then Miss Normal.....if that is your real name......would you mind explaining to the court which crime you enjoy most....Deltan child porn, or hurting small puppies?"

"What!" Jill gulped, "I dont.....Neither one!!"

"Oh really?" Snerdley raised an eyebrow. "So both are equally attractive to you?"

"No....that is to say...I dont do either one..." Jill looked frantically at her lawyer hoping for an 'objection' or something, but her representative was busy making 'loco' signs with her hands.

"Very well...." Snerdley nodded. "For the record let it show the witness has trouble deciding between the two."

"NO!"

"So ordered." the judge thumped his gavel, and the recorder busily typed away.

General rumbling in the courtroom.

"Now Miss puppy killer....may I call you that? " The prosecutor twirled his thin mustache. " Tell us then in your own words the events of April 1st and how you came to destroy the USS Galaxy. Keep in mind that anything you say has already been twisted to use against you."

Working her jaw and wondering how to respon, Jill decided that starting at the beginning was the best policy.

"Well...." she said licking her lips, "It all started one night when I was clearing up some dishes in my cabin....."

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


BLORK!!!!!!

With a sickening electronic burp, the trash disposal unit in Jill Normal's cabin gave up the ghost and died.

Looking up from her little sinkful of dirty dishes, the young girl from New Mexico had time to see the small device spit out the last plate she had fed it before curling up to die.

~Just great.~ Jill sighed looking at the remaining pile of soiled cups awaiting electronic doom, and wondered if there was a way of merely 'tossing them out the window' for disposal.

Scratching her nose with the back of her wrist, Jill contemplated her mess sadly before reaching for the wall mounted Comm unit.

"Ensign Normal to Engineering."

=/\= ENGINEERING....DHANI SPEAKING....WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT =/\=

"Yeah uh....sorry to bug yall but I have broken disposal unit in cabin 3604-B" Jill motioned towards the offending equipment despite the fact the voice couldnt see her.

=/\= BROKEN HUH? YEAH....SO? =/\=

Jill raised an eyebrow. "So? Well....come fix it."

=/\= WHAT YOU DO TO BREAK IT? =/\=

"I didnt break it!" Jill protested, "I was just doing the dishes and it broke.....I was just hoping you guys could fix it so I can finish cleaning up my cabin?"

=/\= FIX IT? WHAT THE HELL FOR....GEEZ WE SEND ALL DAY LONG FIXING YOU GUY'S CRAP......DISPOSAL UNITS....WARP CORES....SHUTTLE BAYS..... WELL IM JUST TIRED OF IT....NO MORE FIXING THINGS. =/\=

"What?" Jill couldnt beleive her ears. "What do you mean you wont fix things anymore?"

=/\= I DIDNT SIGN UP TO BE AN ENGINEER JUST TO FIX STUFF. YOU GUYS ARE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TAKE SOME RESPONSIBILITY HERE =/\=

"M...me?" Jill cast a worried look at the disposal....she hadnt majored in starship maintenance.

=/\= I DIDNT STUTTER...HAVE FUN....ENGINEERING OUT =/\=

In the silence that remained Jill studied the device for a long time wondering if she dared attempot to fix things herself.....without electrocuting herself in the process.


10 minutes and 10,000 volts later the answer was a shocking no.


A slightly singed Jill Normal stumbled her way down the main corridor heading for sickbay. As much as she dreaded the place for all her misadventures there, her hair was still smoking slightly from the electric shock, and her heart felt weird.

~~Not a good indication~~~ she thought slightly disjointedly as she rounded the last corner before the medical facilities.

>>>WELCOME TO SICKBAY<<<

Proclaimed a sign on the door

>>> Sorry we're Closed <<<

"Closed?" Jill said aloud to nobody in particular. "How can you close sickbay?"

Leaning closer she noticed a smaller note just below the larger one.

>>> Sorry for the trouble, but we no longer are motivated to treat patients....gets kinda monotonous at times....good luck with whatever ails you <<<

~~~Does nobody want to do their job anymore?~~~ Jill shook her head slightly only to be interrupted by a claxon bell.

RED ALERT RED ALERT.....All hands to battle stations!!! Hydran BattleCruiser off the port bow!!!!

In a cacophany of light and sound, Jill sprang into action, racing for the turbolift. There were two crewmembers already in the lift as she arrived.

"Bridge!!" Normal spat out her destination urgently.

"Holodeck 4" added the first crewman, a picnic basket tucked under his arm.

"Swimming pool." said the last, a towel slung across his shoulders.

Doing a double take as the lift moved along, Jill felt she had to clarify. "We're at Battlestations." she explained. "Best save the recreation for later!"

"Naw." said the first.

"Dont feel like it." said the last.

"What?"

"Too many Battles." the first explained. "Im getting tired of this silly war plotline and think we should get back to doing some Exploration missions, so im just gonna hang out on the holodeck until the war ends."

"Likewise," the second nodded. "Been looking forward to a swim, and maybe a drink in Ten Forward later."

"Ten Forward!!!"

"Yup....thats what you do when you dont feel like participating" explained the crewman "Write a generic 10-forward post."

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

Back in the courtroom, the prosecution was busy stroking his mustashe. "So it is your testimony that just before a critical battle with the Hydrans, you admit to sabotaging the ship's systems?"

"What?" exclaimed Jill, "No....I never said that!"

"Do you deny that the waste disposal unit in your quarters was inexplicably malfuntioning?"

"Uh....no....thats true."

"Dont you find it awfully convinient that YOU were the person disovering the malfunction?"

"NO...It was in my room!" Jill yelled, "I was the only one there!"

"AH-HA!!!" Snerdley pounced! "Let the record show your honor that by her own words the defendant was the only person present as a critical ships system suddenly malfunctioned just prior to a battle!!"

"Oh - geez...."

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

The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge and a frustrated Jill Normal ran for his station.

~~~Frazzing turbolift!~~~ she fumed. Somehow the device had chosen to deliver the other two crewmen to the holodeck and swimming pool FIRST before taking her request for the bridge. This was a battle dangit!!

On screen, a menacing blue hulled starship hovered, targetting the vulnerable Galaxy with its Hellbores and Fusion Cannons.

"Fl'roprpa class BattleCruiser!" Jill announced from her sensor station. "We should be able to take her easily." she grinned.

From the center seat, Daren M'kantu's head flopped forward onto his chest awkwardly, "Oh very well." he droned. "Mr. Daniels....raise shields if you would?"

"Why?"

Everybody turned around to look at the tactical officer.

"Excuse me?"

"I said why? " the man repeated. "Why are you always aking ME to be the one to raise shields? Shields shields shields....You're so predictable. Where is the variety in my job?"

Jill cut in from across the bridge. "You're the frazzing tactical officer!!!"

Daniels sniffed. "Yes but could we at least try to mix things up? I mean its always the same thing in the same order....Shields up....Lock Phasers....Fire Photons....blah blah blah....same old same old.....admit it Captain.... thats exactly whatyouwere about to order."

M'kantu the bobble-head had to agree. "Okay....would you like to fire phasers....then lock on afterwards.....then shields after that?"

A smile lit up the tactical officer's face, but before he could reply the entire ship shook from the impact of a Hellbore on the un-shielded hull!!!

>>>DAMAGE REPORT....HULL BREACH ON DECKS 6 AND 7....SECONDARY IMPULSE OFFLINE MULTIPLE CASUALTIES<<<

=/\= I'm NOT fixing that!!!=/\= came the call from Dhani in Engineering!

=/\= We're still closed.=/\= was the call from medical.

"Shields!! Shields!!!" screamed Jill "Get the damn shields up!!"

"But the captain said I could fire phasers first...." sulked the Tactical Officer.

WHAM!!!!!

>>>WARP DRIVE OFFLINE!!! MULTIPLE HULL BREACHES!!!<<<

"Intruder alert!!" Jill yelled. "Sensors show that dozens of Hydran Marines are beaming in to key locations because the damn shields arent up!!!"

"But...the captain said......"

"Hush now children....." M'kantu jiggled his wobbly head with a smile. "Bridge to Security....come in please."

The intercom channel opened, and a bright young voice came through. =/\=Hel-lo!! Security here. Who the spuff is skaing the ship...I totally broke a nail down here.=/\=

The faint sound of rock music could be heard playing in the background.

"Sorry to hear that child, but we have intruders runing about. Think you guys can repel boarders or something?"

=/\= Hel-lo As if!! Not even! Those hydran things are all icky and make big purple messes when you shoot them....UGH! =/\=

=/\= This is Dhani down in Engineering...Repelling boarders sounds fun? Can we do it? =/\=

M'kantu smiled as a nother blast shook his unshielded ship, "Well if Security doesnt want to and you can get an union waiver I suppose we can give Engineering a shot.......I dont suppose Security wants to try fixing battle damage?"

=/\= Totally no...Hel-lo! Thats a boring job! Find somebody else! =/\=

"Will somebody please raise the shields?" Jill squeaked desperately.

=/\= Bental to Bridge....Captain...Inteligence is in posession of vital information that will easily enable us to defeat the enemy!!=/\=

"Well lets have it man."

=/\= Sorry Captain but no.....Im afraid you are not cleared for this information....I need to keep it to myself.=/\=

"If you dont tell us, we're all gonna die!" screamed Jill.

=/\= Yes well....at least the secrets will go to my grave with me.....Bental out =/\=

Before anybody could reply a massive fiery explosion shook the bridge. A crewman flew back onto the deck with multiple lacerations, bleeding heavily.

"Medical team to the bridge....oh wait....they're closed today." M'kantu pondered.

"Shields?....please?"

"I know." an idea popped into Daren's wobbly head. "Mr. Krieghoff......come here and deny this crewman the right to die....that oughta keep him until sickbay opens in the morning."

Rising solemly from his seat, the eerie Victor Krieghoff walked over to the injured crewman and looked him square in the eye.

"Listen to me. " he grated, "You're toast buck-o. Hasta la Vista.....Sayonara......havent got a chance." He paused and scribbled something on a small card. "Here ya go buddy. A signed permission slip to go towards the light."

~~~Get me off this crazy ship!!~~~ Jill grit her teeth, and held onto her station with a fierce grip as yet another Hellbore slammed into the unshielded hull.

In a blast of white noise and the stabbing cold of vaccum, Jill's vision went black.......


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


The courtroom was silent except for the muffled giggling of the primary Prosecutor.

Poor Ensign Normal....last survivor of the USS Galaxy sat quietly onthe stand, those final moments replaying themselves over and over in her mind.

"Your Honor," Snerdley smiled evilly, "Given the ammount of evidence against the defendant....the prosecution smugly rests its case."

"So noted," droned Judge Draeger "Your witness Ms. Zamora"

Shaking herself awake Ophelia peered over her glasses at her hopeful client up on the stand. "Naw....I dont feel like defending clients today. Fry her."

"Shit On THIS!"

Featuring

The Phantom Shitter
Public Enemy

It had been a few days, and most people thought the Phantom had finally stopped his or her deadly reign of foulness. The Galaxy was headed to DS4 before they headed out again. Life had slowly started to return to normal for many, and the vigilant became lax.

That was the perfect time for the Phantom to strike yet again! But the strikes were not your typical untraceable break-ins. No, this time they became bolder, much more obnoxious...

**********

Strike One:

It wasn't enough that he had struck several members of the crew to date. Now, he had to think in a larger, more global fashion. He began plotting after he got over his mild intestinal illness (which basically meant he had to stop taking the drugs that enhanced the volume of his feces). For several days, even after the pain went away, he was wary of even farting until he was sure he had healed enough to continue his mandated destiny.

Now, he had decided to begin hitting public places again, but had to be careful and clever as to how he did it. First up for tonight was the Science Department Chief's Office on Deck 8. The Phantom took great pleasure in leaving a hot steaming tarry sample for study on the Chief's chair.

For shits and giggles, the Phantom planted a small flag on the chair that read 'Viva La Revolucion' in Standard Spanish. The stench had already enveloped the room barely after his departure.

**********

Strike Two:

Next was someplace he always wanted to shit on just to let them know what he thought of them. He crawled, descended and crawled some more down to Deck 14. Here, he would strike the office of the next intended target with a fury that had never been seen before. His belly was still rather large and he knew he had plenty for this and his next operation.

The Chief Counselor's office was the image of immaculate calm. The colors were just right to induce neutral relaxation and the feeling of peace in most humanoids. They of course were set on surfaces designed to change color for whichever species needed to be accommodated. But not for long.

Dropping the ceiling panel open on it's hinges, The Phantom hung his ass out and remorselessly shat on the just cleaned carpet of The Chief Counselor, and then promptly pulled the hatch closed behind him. There was one more stop to make.

**********

STRIKE THREE!!

On the same deck was Transporter Room 6. This was the part that the Phantom was looking forward to. There was a rumbling in his stomach, followed by a rather putrid gaseous emanation. He hoped that the Transporter Tech was not present. A quick tricorder scan revealed that no one was there.

Exiting from an access panel behind where the transporter controls were, the Phantom bypassed it and went straight to the transporter pads. Without much effort, he was able to drop a reasonable amount of feces on the main pad before pulling his trousers back up.

Making his way back to the controls, he cleaned his hands before he set about setting the timed destination of his deposit. After he checked his coordinates twice, he smiled and set the timer for five minutes, which was more than enough time for him to leave that section and then take a turbolift from another far enough deck. He whistled as he closed the access hatch behind him, satisfied that his grand statement would finally be made.

Exactly five minutes later, the pile of crap was dematerialized...and materialized approximately seven feet in the air above the deck...on the Bridge! The people it fell on in it's dispersed pattern certainly were not happy...

"Mothers Day"

Starring Allison von Ernst

"Computer...Run program Lake Mytavn' One."

The stark yellow on black gridlines of the holodeck faded away into a windswept plataeu of tall green grass.

The vibrant fields extended out on all sides, stretching to encircle a small still-watered lake dotted with small ice-flows.

Like most of Iceland, the North-eastern Lake Mytavn region was volcanic in origin with undulating dips and craters that spoke of its fiery birth.

However in the ages since the last lava flows, the area had come to be covered with lush green grasslands which thrived on the rich soil turning the

frozen lavafields into a wonderland of rolling green hills of dips and gulleys strangely devoid of large trees.

For Aliison von Ernst these rolling plains were home. She knew every dip and gulley in the landscape, and was intimately familiar with Mytavn'

itself whose quiet cold waters lapped at black sand shores.

Shivvering slightly at the chill Artic breeze, young Allison wondered if life aboard a Starship had spoiled her for her frigid homeland.

Times were when she had skidded across frost-kissed fields wearing naught but simple shorts and a windbreaker, but now a year later of climate

controlled comfort had changed that.

"Home....." she sighed sadly.

Ordinarily Alli had little use for holographic simulations. Real life was too zarky to waste it needlessly in a fantasy world, however this was not

the first time she had run this particular simulation.

Once before....almost a year ago when she was still new aboard the Galaxy, she had brought James Corgan here......brought her father here....looking

for some sort of reaction.

It was impossible of course, at that time Corgan had no inkling that Alli was in fact his time-displaced daughter, and had probably never heard of

Iceland before.

Still, against all logic she looked for a reaction....and found none.

The simulation wasnt perfect....it was just a simple representation based on topographical data.
It was missing something......a large farmhouse there on the Western shore of the lake.

A house that wouldnt be built for another five years.

"Computer....add in holographic variation Allison 5."

A faint shimmer of photons and the previously bare shoreline morphed into the aforementioned homestead, complete with white picket fence and gravel

driveway.

Her mother and she had moved here from Minnesota when Allison was barely 3 years old.

Captain von Ernst had recently retired from Starfleet and was looking for a suitably remote spot to raise her (illegitimate?) daughter.

The windswept lavafields of northern Iceland proved a suitable match for the snow covered lakes of Minnesota where Rebecca grew up, and more

importantly......the controversial ex-Captain of the USS Zeus could escape her many critics and bloody past in solitude.

Allison slowly crunched her way up the gravel driveway, mentally making notes on how to improve the simulation of her house.

She'd left out the tire swing mounted on the only tree for miles around, and the small shuttlepad out back where Mom kept her little sub-orbital

hopper.

She'd have to ammend the program......but then again what was the point if she could go back and visit the real thing.

Go home....back to the 25th century.

She'd be going home a failure....but she'd be back where she belonged.

The creaky wooden swing on the front porch was strangely empty.
Another oversite in the program.

Allison took a deep breath wondering if she dared go ahead with the next part of the experiment.

"Computer...." she breathed, "Tie in program Mother 2 and execute."

A brief pause before the Computer chirped

=/\= WARNING. VON ERNST, CAPTAIN REBECCA CATHERINE, IS A SERVING MEMBER OF STARFLEET COMMAND. PURSUANT TO THE HOLOGRAPHIC SIMULATIONS ACT, THIS

REQUEST FOR A SIMULATION WILL BE LOGGED FOR FURTHER REVIEW. =/\=

"Fine fine." Allison waved her hand. By the time they checked it out, she'd be 20 years and a zillion miles from here. "Execute."

A shimmer of light and the previously empty swing was now occupied by a small thin-boned woman of perhaps 30 year of age. Shoulder length red hair

spilled over a Starfleet uniform and soft brown eyes looked out over a pert freckle-covered nose.

Alli frowned at the uniform....not what she wanted.

"Computer attire simulated von Ernst in civilian clothes...ummm try a sun dress with nice lines."

The uniform melted away into a simple dress that daintily hugged Rebecca's pixie-like frame.

~~~Wow...Mom sure was pretty...in a cute sort of way~~~

Still, the young woman before her was not her mother, not yet.

"Hello computer...me again....can you make her like....you know older? Age subject by 20 years."

=/\=WARNING. PARAMETERS ARE HIGHLY VARIABLE. STATED SIMULATION WILL ONLY HAVE A 35% ACCURACY AFTER 10 YEARS=/\=

"Whatever....just go ahead."

=/\= BLIP =/\=

"Wow...okay a few less wrinkles around the eyes."

=/\= BLIP =/\=

"Okay...better. more grey hair at the temples...more....more....perfect."

=/\= BLIP =/\=

"Hmmmmm...lengthen hair to mid-back...a bit more...whoa back up an inch.....Stop!"

=/\= BLIP =/\=

Allison studied the older woman before her carefuly. "Computer....add 15 pounds to weight."

=/\= BLIP =/\=

Allison drew a breath in recognition. "Mom...." she whispered.

"Crewman." Rebecca replied with a nod of the head.

~Dang~ Allison made a face, but decided to proceed....this was as close as she was possibly gonna get to the real thing.

"Mom...." she asked shyly. "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course." replied Rebecca, rising from the porch swing and standing on tip toes to give her taller 'daughter' a reassuring squeeze.

"Mom....I...I've really made a zarking mess of things." Alli stuttered blinking to keep back tears, "I...I didnt realize what things were gonna be

like back here, and things with dad.....well."

She cast about for the words. "Well, lets just say that things havent worked out too well with him."

The simulation nodded. The computer probably didnt know what the context of the conversation was, but figured a reassuring nod would be appropriate.

"I guess I was in a fantasy world...you know romantic notions of what family life would be like.....and I'm afraid I have not been very kind to you

either."

"Thats okay crewman." Rebecca smiled mechanically.

"No its not." Alli shook her head. She didnt know if she was trying to convince herself or her holographic mother.

"I...I know I havent treated you well Mom....you've been so patient....giving me music lessons....putting up with my spazziness...actually letting me

come back here."

Alli shook her head. Mom had actually done the mathematical computations for the time jump herself. She wouldnt trust any old computer, and it was

probably the only time in her life that Rebecca von Ernst had re-calculated the same problem twice in a row 'just to make sure'

Allison motioned her mother back into the swing and sat down next to her.

There were subtle differences between the hologram and her mom.

Missing things like the smell of her shampoo, or the little stains on her dress.

Rebecca was notoriously clumsy with her cups of hot cocoa.

But maybe...just maybe if Allison saw her out of the corner of her eye....she could fool herself.

"I got you something mom." she said bringing out a small box from behind her back. "Its kinda silly really but...."

Alli held her breath, nervously biting her bottom lip as holo-mom opened the small box to reveal a small sculpture made entirely out of glue and....

"Macaroni." Alli expalined with a blush. "Kinda like the things I made for you when I was a kid. I stole some macaroni shells from the galley and

glued them together."

"Its wonderful crewman." The computer soothed. "I love it."

Of course it was programed to love anything someone gave it as a gift, but then again....maybe you could argue a real mom was similarly programed to

adore anything thier children gave them.

Alli lowered her eyes and dared herself to take her 'mother's ' hand.

"Im sorry mom.....I'll be coming home soon to tell you in real life, but I just wanted to say......"

She paused.

"I just wanted to say Happy Mothers Day."

Mothers Day Part II

---Starfleet text communication---
--Address to follow---


Recipient: Kurita, Piroko san

Fukuoka-ku Prefecture
Fukuoka City-Shi
100-899-to
Japan
Earth
Sol Sector


Honored Mother,

How flies the swift crane of my heart? I bring you humble greetings from the Galaxy-maru. We are stationed temporarily at <CENSORED BY WAR BUREAU>

for a few weeks and I could not wait to to write to you of my latest adventures.

Galaxy maru remains a fortunate ship, I am blessed by my ancestors surely for they have brought me through many trials safely.
Do not toruble your heart honored mother for your son is safe and unharmed. Indedd I have suffered nary a scratch since the war began.

I received your letter of 15, January in regards to the accident aboard the Galaxy maru. I cannot be specific about the events at <CENSORED BY WAR

BUREAU> but rest assured that we are in one piece.

Shinpai shinaide kudasai.

Wakarimasu ka?

My American comrades among the crew have informed me of a peculiar custom of their homeland. This week signifies theholiday known as Mothers Day in

their culture. A day set aside for children to honor thier maternal parent.

So Desu

I thought in appropriate on this occasion to pen my own thought regarding you blessing in my life.

I have composed a haiku for the occasion. Not so eloquent as father's own poetry, but forgive my humble attempts.

Fuji no kaze
ya oogi ni nosete
Edo miyage

hatsu shigure
saru mo komino wo
hoshige nari

Please also note the box accompanying this note.

I have placed in freeze-stasis a Vered Melon gathered from a grateful farmer I recently had the honor to serve.
They are akin to cantaloupe I think and am sure you will enjoy it as I have.

Till next time I am home dear okasan. I remain humbly yours.

Aisoku desu

Kurita, Ieyasu.

Sergeant USS Galaxy maru
Starfleet Marine Corps

"Operation Retrieval" Part Two

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell – EMRT

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff - Security Second

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

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

(Marine Drill Deck- USS Galaxy)

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

"One each."

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

"In the middle of a meteor shower? When their sensors are busily looking outward for enemy ships or to monitor fleet operations? When these things happen at regular intervals on their planet?" For'kel raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't think they'll notice barely perceptible specs on their sensor screens from other barely perceptible specs."

She shook her head, frown deepening, "Sir, if I may?" she asked.

The Colonel nodded.

"We are taking a Hydran ship, right?" she double checked.

He nodded again.

"So wouldn't it be feasible to simply use that to infiltrate Hydran Space?" she questioned, "I have spent some time on a Hydran ship during the Battle of Romulus, I'm not totally versed with their technology, but with the Intel gathered from the POW's I'm sure that we could use holographic emitters to disguise ourselves as Hydrans. Intel might have the latest Hydran codes, granted they would be out of date – but with the damage to the vessels and the fact that they know this fleet was destroyed by the Federation, we may be able to get around their suspicions by offering up ourselves, or at least a portion of ourselves, as prisoners? That way a team would be instantly transported right into the facility – we could use that transport to piggy back several teams of ground troops *and* a team of saboteurs into the complex, if not both. We could then flood the facilities with sleeping gas, or something, and get our people out with minimal effort. Granted that's ambitious but it beats being, what was it?" she questioned turning to Victor, "tubes of …blueberry jam?" she questioned with a rise of her shoulders.

"Getting into Hydran space isn't the problem, Dhani." He started, wondering where he'd missed before. "It's getting to 'this' planet that's going to be a problem. They have transporter scramblers running constantly, and the only way on or off through more conventional methods is on a Hydran shuttle, ones we don't have the appropriate codes to fly either. Besides, the Hydrans have sophisticated security systems to prevent the kind of piggy-backing you're suggesting. We simply don't know enough yet about their systems to attempt an over-ride. The torpedoes only need to go one way. We'll abandon them once we're on the surface, and after their systems are disabled, our ship can transport us back up once the escape is complete."

"Huh." Dhani muttered envisioning the scene he painted for her. "Or," she added as an after thought, "We just take back all their prisoners and ask for an exchange…" she trailed off as she felt the replies to that suggestion ripple through those gathered – in a nut shell that idea was not favored by any of them. Preposterous, was the polite way to describe the emotions and thoughts that her comment sparked.

Dhanishta retreated from their thoughts and hung her head slightly dejectedly, think first – then speak, she chided herself.

For'kel shook his head. He deeply admired her dedication to finding an easier way, but there simply wasn't one this go around. "The Hydrans don't trade for prisoners, and I'm not about to risk handing them any more just to ask for something I know they won't give."

"Fair enough." Dhani conceded folding her arms across her chest. She reconsidered the plan once more and with a sharp nod said; "I'm in Sir."

"Okay. There will be three assault teams. Lieutenant Ward's team will attack the fighter field here." He pointed on the holo-map. "They will destroy anything and everything in sight, doing their best to keep the Hydran air support to a minimum. Simultaneously, my team will raid the training facility. The planet's defenses are formidable, but they're all powered by a central reactor inside the training facility. Once we disable it, the defenses of the planet will automatically be diverted to an auxiliary power source, a generator within the prison complex. However during the transfer, the entire planet's computer network system will be vulnerable for a full thirty seconds. Thanks to Mister Bental and Sergeant Ilia's data warfare group, we 'should' have plenty of time to hack into their systems completely, giving us full control. We will then use the planet's own defenses to provide a diversion while we infiltrate the prison complex, collect our POW's, and get back to our ship. The third team will provide perimeter security during the escape, and mop up any resistance. We then set charges and leave. The Carrier should be able to beam us up once we're outside the prison complex. Remember, the goal is to get our people out alive... don't shoot the first thing you see unless it's Hydran, got it?"

"What about the Prison's staff, sir?" Ilia asked.

For'kel was quiet for a moment. He didn't like giving the order, but they couldn't afford taking prisoners with them. Speed and ferocity were the virtues they needed for this to work, and that didn't afford them the opportunity to collect EPW's. "Staff expendable. Any other questions?"

"Medical and Counseling personnel," Victor spoke up. "Not for the combat wounded – the medics will take care of that; I mean for the prisoners and combat wounded that make it back to the ship for transport home. I don't think that any of you were with us when we extracted some Galaxy personnel from a Hydran facility some time back, but they were performing medical experimentation on the prisoners when we retrieved them - invasive, degrading, procedures that had nothing to do with extracting information. If that's the case here, we need support personnel for the prisoners on hand." He held up an isolinear chip. "I've got the complete mission record here, along with copies of the tricorder and sensor scans of the facility interior for review for planning purposes." He nodded to For'kel. "I think you need to review it first, sir, and then decide how much needs to be edited out. There's some material here that everyone doesn't need to see."

"I remember that." Dhani mumbled primarily to herself. Though there was something Victor forgot to mention…

"Not a bad idea." For'kel was starting to wonder why this man had such a reputation; he was obviously capable and intelligent. "We'll put a request in for the doctor... provided she doesn't ban me from sickbay for life after this. Dhani, how long will it take for us to adjust the torpedo casings and the tractor beams?"

Dhanishta skimmed the information once more and tapped her fingers absently against the back of the padd she had been taking notes on, "I can have them ready in about…" Dhanishta thought for a moment, considering the Galaxy had 275 standard casings on board, they would *have* to increase the size of the casings, judging by the size of For'kel alone – casings were typically 2.1 meters in length and For'kel was six foot tall; the equipment they had to fit into the casing was going to take up more than one foot! So they would need to cannibalize about 50 additional to the 90 they were going to use, then reconfigure the interior of the torpedo casing to accommodate the systems they would need, those being: a minimal guidance system, navigational thrusters, inertial dampening systems and anti-grav's. Those modifications would take approximately 2 hours per torpedo that meant 180 man hours, which was approximately 7.5 days. So if she assigned 60 engineers in teams of two, she could have the alterations done in:

"About two days minimum," she said, "we need to go over the details," she reminded him, an eye stealing itself away from the padd to bore into him, "the alterations to the flight decks would take about an hour, two tops with a single team. However there is something you need to know," she said pointedly looking at the chip Victor held.

"The Hydrans are notorious for infiltrating clones onto Starfleet ships. You weren't around when it happened before, but its something that the medics are going to have to take into account and make sure that they check for, and I *mean* thoroughly," her tone indicated more than her displeasure at the thought of another Hydran clone in their midst, it was more of a personal request.

"We'll do our job, Lieutenant, don't you worry about that," Max interjected. He picked up quite easily on the fact that the very notion of a Hydran clone made her very upset. What Eshe didn't know was that Branwen was also a major priority for Max. Which is why he volunteered. "Just make sure our burrito wraps don't turn us into cheesy beef when we get there."

Dhani raised an eyebrow and nodded, not that she was totally sure how to keep them all from becoming fertilizer, but the Colonel was, and whether she knew how or didn't – she was going to make it work. That was her job, and miracles were her line of work.

"Huh?" For'kel asked looking over to Max, and then decided to just shake it off. "I know how the Hydrans fight Lieutenant. I like to think I've become pretty good at fighting them too. Everyone who comes aboard will be checked. Are we all cleared on the plan?"

Dhanishta bobbed her head, looking round at everyone as she did. Yes, the feelings had changed. The Colonels plan hadn't, not one lil bit. But the rest of the room was now on board, and somewhat content with that. Dhanishta took a moment to marvel at how For'kel had managed to turn them all around in such a short space of time.

"Now that that's settled... let's get this show on the road. Good hunting everyone."

"Pre Launch Jitters" Part One

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff - Security Second

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell – EMRT

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

(Launch Bay- Marine Alpha)

The Hydran fighters that hadn't been transferred off to the Galaxy for analysis had been stowed beneath the main flight deck in their hangars for safe keeping, while an ad-hoc crew of Marine and Starfleet prepped the flight bay for the eventual launch of it's manned torpedoes, what would surely be the most 'interesting' task the vast majority of those involved ever set upon. The next four hours would be 'it'. A cascade of falling debris on to the planet was expected then, and the torpedoes had to be launched if they were to remain concealed by then.

It had been a crazy journey. Yep, absolutely crazy... any 'sane' set of officers wouldn't have dared come this far, but as K'aa had pointed out to the bridge staff not too long ago, Galaxy lacked anyone above the rank grade of E-3 that could be considered remotely 'sane'. And as we all know, Marines are fucking nuts from birth!

In any case, it had given them all time to familiarize themselves with Hydran technology, the layout of the buildings, and refine their plan with additional training. Everyone became well indoctrinated with the plan, guaranteeing that even if there was an unforeseen slip up, there were contingency, and contingency-contingency, and even counter-contingency plans available. Using the edited mission recordings provided by Victor, even the newest private or crewman was made aware of what to expect. Those aboard ship running it, and those heading to the surface, would have to work together to pull this mission out. About the only thing they had going for them was surprise, but it could be a devastating advantage in the right hands.

For'kel had spent the last day 'customizing' his rifle. He'd shortened it really, changing the power cell and adjusting much of the 'optional' equipment in order to save on length. He didn't need the fantastically long-lasting powercells of a standard rifle, what he needed was something handy and preferably wouldn't bother him too much on the long ride down. It was then that he caught someone's shadow out of the corner of his eye. "You ready?"

It was Dhanishta that moved within the darkness beside him. She turned her face towards him and nodded slowly, "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied in an even tone.

The last time she had faced Hydrans, even though it had been her idea, her plan to takeover the Hammer from within and use it to crush the fleet above Romulus, as best they could. Even then she had been scared and nervous. Terrified in fact. She had shaken like a leaf on the wind and then some. She had hid behind Jonas, even though she knew the marine cared nothing for her other than being a statistic, but still she had cowered. And then she had changed. Something within her took over – it rose up out of that terror, fed off it and made manifest inside her, and she was no longer in control. But she had been. She remembered it clearly, some of it at any rate. What followed and the things she had done – the things she had enjoyed doing to the enemy. She shook her head at the memory and repeated her statement,

"As ready as I'll ever be Sir." She said with some melancholy. She didn't know what would happen, but she knew what could. She knew what she was capable of, even if she was not brave enough to admit it herself, or anyone else for that matter. Romulus was such a blur; there was no one with her that could recount what she had done, or would have understood it either. She checked her standard issue phaser rifle, padded her pockets with her palms; checking for the extra power packs she had placed there, and then sheathed a knife into the strap around her right boot .

Unlike the marine, she wasn't packing customized weapons. Dhanishta favored hand to hand combat; she could wield a blade with the best of them, or at least had once, what felt like a lifetime ago. Though going up against three armed, three eyed monsters, she knew her chances of being made chop-suey with her own weapon were much higher than actually inflicting mortal wounds upon them. Still, she felt somewhat comforted with the blade than without it. Though she was beginning to realize that the best weapon she had, the only one she could ever truly count on, was the power of her mind. And that fact was more terrifying than anything the Hydran could ever do, or had ever done.

She sat down beside For'kel heavily and let out a long sigh.

For'kel looked over, as he reassembled the adapted parts of the newly created carbine, and nudged her in the arm. "You all right?"

"Yeah," she replied, "just nerves," she explained resting a hand on her stomach.

Was that 'really' it? The Colonel let the question pass and smiled. "Those are good to have. Getting killed down there does nobody any good. I'm actually glad I still get them."

Dhanishta nodded; "Would you mind showing that fact once in a while…" she fought with the urge to be sick, "like now?" she finished with a rueful smile.

"Sorry, I'm not perfect." He smirked. For'kel remembered just what Bery was like when she was pregnant, constantly running for the bathroom and feeling sick. "Besides, it would ruin the whole 'brave marine' image I've worked hard at."

"Right now the only label I'm wearing is the 'stupid engineer' one!" she replied, "I don't know how you do this over and over."

"Stupid Marine label." For'kel smirked. "We all have gifts Dhani, mine is being too stupid to know I can't do certain things."

Dhanishta smiled and patted his arm; "At least you have the courage to try," she said, "now if we could only bottle that…" she smiled again and then let out a breath. Trying to be humorous was not her bag.

"I think the Ferengi tried that, it didn't go well for them." Fork played along.

Dhanishtas forced giggle escaped into the air between them and was lost somewhere within the mass of bodies that currently inhabited the halls of the trophy Hydran ship. For a moment she contemplated trying to muster a witty retort, but three seconds passed and the moment was gone.

After another five seconds of silence broken gently with the sounds of shuffling feet, breathing and the occasional grate of metal as the marines customized and polished their weapons Dhanishta's thoughts turned inwards once more, her eyes cast out across the alien floor, blank and hollow.

"Evaluation of the Truth in Darkness"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora

Counselor Charlotte Latimer-NPC by Lori!

Location: Ophelia's Office

-----------------
The afternoon drowned on in an attempt to end itself and ease into evening as Ophelia sat behind her desk. Her thoughts, scattered as they were, landed every time and again to the events that composed the last few months of her life. Colorful and vivid, she recalled them with a high appreciation at her current state of affairs.

*FLASHBACK 3 Months Prior*

Location: Boston, Mass Starfleet main jailing unit, secure room 4G

========================
Stepping through the door, Zamora's tired eyes scanned the room with half hazard abandonment. The psy evaluation...where she was placed with some quack and asked stupid questions that would reveal if she was sane enough to commit such a terrible crime in cold blood. In the past, she would have denied the urge ever existed to kill another being. However, that was before she had the 'pleasure' of getting to know one Faylin McAlister. The snarl instantly appeared on her face as her pind spoke the name of the woman she had grown to hate. Hate was a strong word she told herself....not strong enough in her humble opinion.

Darkened circles under her eyes sighed with heaviness as she turned her head slightly. The guard released her from her binders only to bind her hands in the front of her so she could sit with relative ease. She sat with her gaze landing on the person sitting across the table from her. The frown stayed silent on her mouth as she lowered her head in what appeared to be reverence. However, it was in that instant that a small awakening occurred in her mind. It was the type of awakening that made psychologists shudder with fear.

Charlotte Latimer regarded the woman before her with clear interest. She couldn't help but be curious about her, and she knew it would be foolish of her to hide that. She had to be a neutral third party making a neutral evaluation, but Charlotte was not one to check her humanity at the door. Still, the former starship counselor couldn't help but feel a twinge of maternal concern. The woman's first contact with a shrink since all of this, and it had to be with someone who was playing a role in deciding her fate. "Hello, my name is Charlotte. May I call you Ophelia?"

"Yeah." She responded through dim eyes. "Let's get this over with....I have a cell that's getting lonely for my return."

Charlotte let the bravado enter one ear and go out the other. Many a criminal defendant had worn that path before Zamora, and many would after her. "Ophelia, can you tell me in your own words why you've been arrested?"

"It is rumored that I killed my ex husband. Although, even if I said I didn't do it, you wouldn't believe me." She stated darkly. "It's the 'way'. Innocent until proven guilty is bull shit."

"It's quite possible I would believe you," Charlotte replied, gauging Zamora's reaction. "Unfortunately, my opinion of your guilt or innocence will not matter in a court of law. I'm only supposed to determine whether you are well enough to understand what's happening and to assist in your own defense. Are you saying you believe you were arrested based on rumors only?"

"Does it really matter what I think? Honestly......what I believe is out the window at this point. I'm a pawn in a game of chess between the prosecution and defense. Let's spare the fluff doctor and cut to the chase. Do I understand what's happening to me?" Ophelia stood, a hint of anger swelling in her voice. "I'm a damned defense attorney, JAG officer for Starfleet. It's my *job* to understand these things counselor."

Charlotte let the woman's anger swell and wash over her while Latimer remained calm. This was not her first time at bat, nor was it her first time dealing with an angry defendant. "Look, I'll be frank with you, Ophelia, because right now I think it's the kindest thing I can be. You may have been lawyer in Starfleet, and you may be one when this is all over, but right now, right this very moment, you're a woman who's facing some serious consequences. That's it. I get that you're pissed and scared, and I get that finding this whole process beneath you is how you're going to get through it, but I'm telling you right now, if you want to wake up from this nightmare, you need to cut the bullshit and start fighting this in ways that are going to move you forward. Now, all the court cares about is my opinion of your mental state. Answer my questions, and we can get that out of the way so you can have the opportunity to talk with someone who can support you through this."

Ophelia arched a single eyebrow before sitting down. This woman knew nothing of what she had to face, and pretending was something that Zamora was familiar in doing. Assuming a stoic posture, she nodded. "Fine...fire away." The flatness in her voice was noticeable.

“Data Crunch”
By Aina Mason, Midshipman, Communications Officer

USS Galaxy

***** Aina’s Quarters *****

“What the...” Aina exclaimed as she walked through the door
into her quarters and saw a ball of fur on her desk. As she approached the desk, she watched to
ball slowly turn and then start to give a familiar purr as the fur ball seemed
to vibrate.

Even though Aina had never seen a tribble in real life,
everybody recognised one. It was almost
everywhere in the known galaxy. A huge
pest, they were worst than the GREMLINS from an ancient Terran movie. If you dumped water onto the creatures you
had them multiply as they fissioned into hundreds of Gremlins – but at least
something as simple as sunlight got rid of them.

But with tribbles, any food was a trigger for a massive
reproductive system to begin making more tribbles, and very soon they could
become the worst vermin in space. But no
one every really harmed tribbles (except for maybe Klingons), they had a very
successful defensive mechanism – it was so cute.

Aina frowned, as she wondered where it had come from –
Marsha her roommate wasn’t the sort of person to keep a tribble, and not having
any real limbs, they weren’t the sort to climb up onto a desk.

Looking above the desk, she noticed a small hole in the roof
of the quarters and her forehead furrowed again as she wondered who would take
the trouble to ‘burn’ a hole in the tritanium internal structure of the ship to
drop a tribble into her room.

Picking it up in her hand, with her thumb slowly stroking
it, Aina sat at her desk – to catch up on her studies. The ship arriving at DS4 had meant that a
whole load of lectures and structured tutorials had suddenly arrived from the
Academy into her personal comms. The
hassle with the Starbeasts, her own worry of what happened to Val and the
pursuit of the idiot that thought that crapping everywhere was funny had her so
behind in her studies – it just wasn’t funny.

She had dumped the data all onto an ODN rod for easy access
and though she had left it on her desk. But all that she could find was some strange muted grey dust. Blowing it off her desk, she began searching
through her desk and the drawers.

The door to her shared quarters opened as Ensign Marsha Dean
walked in, she looked at Aina at her desk and commented with a quick ‘cute’ at
the picture of Aina holding the small fur ball.

Dropping on to her own bed, Marsha reached around under her
bed to a small case of vidcards for her entertainment system she kept under her
bed.

Aina turned to Marsha – “Hey, you didn’t see where I put the
rod here that was on the desk this morning?”

Marsha frowned, “What am I? Your personal locator? You keep
loosing those things behind the...EEEP!”

Marsha took her hand from under the bed, but within a few
seconds the look of surprise on her face changed to that of suspicion and she
stretched herself to look under her bed.

She pulled out another tribble and with a frown on her face
turned to Aina – “Keep your pets on your side, ok?”

Aina shrugged, “There not mine,” and she pointed up to the
hole in the roof.

Marsha looked at the hole for a few seconds and
unconsciously began petting the small fur ball in her hand. She shrugged and layed back down on the bed,
and after a few seconds of grabbing for the box under her bed; made harder by
the fact that Marsha seemed not to want to let the tribble go, she was successful
in getting it.

Putting it onto the covers of her bunk, she looked in
disbelief at the hole in the side of the box. Opening the lid, she saw that here vidcards had gone and a muted grey
dust seemed to be in piles in the box.

“Who the frack would take my vids?” Marsha exclaimed, as she
dumped the box onto the floor, where Aina saw a similar hole to one in the
roof.

Marsha looked at Aina – “You’re the hacker geek – find out
who got into our room?”

Aina shook her head, “We should call Security – it’s their
job.”

“Screw Security,” said Marsha. “They couldn’t find their own ass with toilet
paper map in hand. Especially with that
moron dumping crap everywhere and they still can’t find him.”

Aina looked unconvinced for a few moments, but she shrugged
and she setup her personal entertainment system, put on what looked like a set
of glasses and put on some gloves. Flicked a switch on the system and after a few seconds, a copy of her
console in the main computer core appeared on her desk, well it seemed to
appear on her desk and next to her, hovering in mid air, looking like a system
diagnostic board was her own interface that she used for hacking and data mining.

Marsha chuckled, “You still look stupid with that crap
on. Still don’t get why you don’t just
use a tri-d projector.”

Aina shrugged, she gave up trying to explain why she used
such old tech to interface into systems. But basically it used hardly any power and hardly any computing
resources. The gloves gave her, her
tactile feed back. The glasses let her
see and the ear buds let her hear what she wanted.

Not like the ‘gibsons,’ that used the bloody stupid system
of supposed system analysis software that created virtual world icons so that
they could ‘hack’ into systems as some mage or some old knight – fighting with
their swords.

Once she’d had written her gibson hacker, they fell real
quick in any data battle. The largest
surprise for her was the number of ‘intelligence officers’ that believed in the
technology.

To Marsha, Aina was making sweeps and stabs at the air and
on her desk. But Aina was accessing the
raw data from the internal sensors in and around her and Marsha’s room. She didn’t hide her access, she wasn’t doing
anything wrong on this one.

But it was very obvious that in the time frame from this
morning that no-one had entered their room.

Telling Marsha of her results, left Marsha fuming – but Aina
was back into the system and looking at something that had her more than
confused. The tribbles, they looked like
tribbles based on the database comparison to their sensor signatures, but there
was something else, something that had the internal sensor couldn’t resolve and
couldn’t find a comparison. They were
tribbles, everything matched up, except something in the sensors said they
weren’t.

Aina shook her head and logged out of the Operations System
and using her badge called Science – maybe they could put some light on the
mystery.

But right now, her priority was to try and find that rod, if
she didn’t find it, she was in deep hot water.

"De Ja Vu"


Part 4 of 4


Inspired by "ALTERNITY" posted by Dallas. (where is old Dallas these days?!?!)



Previously: After helping to bring down the Hydran Gorn operative, Lt. Commander Darkstar succumbed to his multiple injuries and slipped into a coma. When he awoke, Darkstar found the world a very different place and soon discovered that the universe he was now in had been overrun by the Borg to the point of total assimilation. With the help of Q and an away team from the Federation Remnant Super carrier the USS HOTH, Darkstar now leads an away team into the heart of the Borg to retrieve the Borg King....


Location: Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco


Time: Just after being dropped onsite...


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

"The sky is deep, the sky is dark, The light of stars is so damn stark. When I look up, I fill with fear if all we have is what lies here..." - The Book of Counted Sorrows

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

San Francisco was dead.


More then dead.


It was decaying.


Where once the bright morning sun caressed the gently lapping waters of Golden Gate Bay, an eternal night now cloaked the city in a sinister shadow. Great clouds of ash from the burned out husks of buildings swirled through the fetid air carrying with it disease and pestilence that had bred from the hundreds of broken, charred bodies laying strewn through the rubble.


A population who had resisted the invasion of the Borg, only to find out that the resistance had indeed been futile. A proud people broken and shattered like the giant bridge that once spanned the great harbor.


A society destroyed.


Across the inky waters to the North, what remained of Star fleet Headquarters sprawled like a fallen soldier.


When the Borg had finished razing San Francisco, they then began the siege of the very heart of Star Fleet itself. Two gigantic Borg transport cubes had landed on either side of the complex, disgorging thousands of drones. The resulting carnage took the lives of many of the Fleet's admiralty. Shuttles and transporters worked feverishly until the Borg overran them making escape impossible.


Now an ethereal green light seemed to glow from the various conduits. alcoves and technological upgrades the drones had built on or around the former headquarters, the heat emanating from them causing a thin fog to rise off the bay and cling to the air.


Standing in the middle of the ruined garden that had once been tended to so meticulously by the groundskeeper named Boothby, Lieutenant Raven Darkstar and his three man covert team crawled out of their transport and gazed upon the devastation as if they were looking at a recently unearthed mass grave.


"If I believed in God, I would say 'God Damn' right about now." Commander Kyril Kane rumbled after a noise that could only be the hulking Brikar attempting to whistle. He activated the multiphasic gatling gun and gave the immediate perimeter a quick sweep for hostile activity while Darkstar and the enigmatic Alethia shouldered their rifles and scanned the high ground with the weapon's powerful scopes.


Only after everyone reported the area clear did Raven order everyone to the cover of the shattered husk of the Great Auditorium, once used in an awards ceremony by Admiral Paris at the end of the Borg War in 2403.


"Alright Data, where are they housing the Borg King?" Darkstar asked.


From the harness strapped to Commander Kane's torso, the former Commander aboard the fabled USS ENTERPRISE blinked twice and then announced politly: "The 68th floor."


Darkstar glanced up at the jagged buildings.


"Are you certain?"


"Commander, my time spent as a captive of the Borg allowed me to assimilate vast amounts of information on their operations of this facility." Data said.


"Assimilate." Kane said which a chuckle that sounded like a boulder falling from a cliff.


"Did I say something humorous?" Data asked.


"Forget it." Raven said. "How do we get inside?"


"There is a freight entrance approximately 25 yards to the east." Data announced.


Without waiting, Darkstar signaled the team forward. They advanced in the unnatural silence one by one, pressing flat against walls and keeping in the shadows all the while covering each other the entire distance until they stood before a freight elevator.


"We're going to just walk right in the elevator and ride it right up to the top?" Alethia asked. The black tattoos on the blue skin of her face made her appear camouflaged in the dim lighting of the corridor they stood in.


"If you plug me into the port by the key pad..." the Android said. After a few moments of interface the doors opened.


"With the transporter buffers in place keeping them from being used safely, this elevator is used for moving equipment to the higher floors. I have just processed the order for a delivery to the higher floors. We will be able to ride it uneventfully until we reach our destination." Data announced.


Packing inside elevator, they waited for the doors to close and then began their achingly slow ascent. They rode in silence until the cart finally slowed to a stop.


"Stay alert. Assume danger in every doorway. Kane, keep this elevator secure. Shoot anyone with an implant. Alethia, we move in fast and hard. The sooner we get outside, the sooner we get back home." Darkstar ordered as muzzles of weapons rose.


The battered silver doors began to open and the away team tensed like serpents ready to strike.


A drone hand shot through the doorway and wrapped itself around Alethia's throat. The Bolian's eyes bulged in surprise then pain as thin tubes snaked out of the drone's arm and lodged themselves into her blue flesh and began pumping nanites into her body as it dragged her from the elevator.


"SPRAY THE ROOM!!!" Darkstar ordered falling to his knees and punching the control panel. Kane's massive gatling gun roared to life sending phaser blasts into the swarming Borg, pushing them back enough to allow the door to close.


"What now?" Kane asked.


The Indian thought for a moment.


"I have an idea. Data, can you pinpoint where the King is located?" he asked.


"Within 3 feet, yes."


Darkstar ordered the elevator to go up one floor. This time, when the doors opened, they unleashed a spray of phaserfire and worked their way through the surprisingly few drones maintaining the alcoves on the floor.


When the echo of the firefight had died, Data was once more plugged into a port.


"The King is directly beneath you. 6 feet to your immediate left." he announced.


"Good. Kane, crank that up to full power and cut a hole." Raven ordered. Kane nodded then moved back to broad back with Darkstar and fired his gatling gun into the floor.


Floor tile cracked and splintered as the weapon erupted. A thin cloud of dust rose up from the deck before the weight of the two men collapsed the floor and they fell through to the floor and into the level below.


With a surgical precision, the two men cut down the drones one by one until none remained. Seeing their fallen teammate, Raven rolled Alethia over only to see that whatever life that had once been behind her dark blue eyes was no longer there.


"Commander...." Kane called out gesturing towards an oversized Borg alcove.


It was nearly three times the size of a normal drone port. Countless wires and tubes wrapped themselves from the banks of blinking lights and computers and into the body of the drone suspended inside.


With his weapon at the ready, Darkstar advanced until he was close enough to use the muzzle of the rifle to life the Borg King's chin and look into the glazed eyes of Federation President John Q Bhrode.


"Resist....resist....resist..." Bhrode whispered in a mechanical voice.

"Pre Launch Jitters" Part Two

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff - Security Second

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell – EMRT

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

(Launch Bay- Marine Alpha)

Victor was tired of the Hydran ship already. The corridors, door, and fittings were all designed for a trilaterally symmetric race, which was a physiognomy that he did not share with the ship's former crewmen, and no matter how long the hastily modified atmosphere scrubbers ran, the scent of methane impregnated every part of the ship. He was tired of methane too, come to think of it. Once this mission was over, he doubted that he'd be hunting Makarrian Swamp Apes for some time. Maybe forever.

The co-opted Hydran vessel was, at least, large enough that he'd not been forced to be a nuisance for the rest of the makeshift crew. He'd busied himself with the myriad of small things that always went along with a mission of this sort: cleaning weapons, checking electronics, checking maps and diagrams, and reviewing plans until he was able to recite them in his sleep.

He'd also been able to find time do other things. Things that he wouldn't have worried about before he'd been Chulak. He'd studied the engineering specifications for the Hydran ship, traced critical junctures, and planted dozens and dozens of small beacons that could be used by damage control teams to pinpoint access areas and critical system junctures in the event the ship was in combat. His makeshift network wasn't remotely the equal of the one that was integrated into all Federation ships, but it was, he hoped, enough to make the difference should they see combat.

He'd also continued a project that Angelienia had suggested, one that had made perfect sense as soon as she'd made it: he was recording everything that he'd known as Chulak for posterity. The historical value of the information indelibly written into his mind by his absorption of Chulak's katra was immense, and since it couldn't be retrieved by extracting Chulak's katra, he was recording it so that it wouldn't be lost. Childhood memories of Vulcan; her people, buildings and customs, clothing and games. Schematics of Talvalen and all the equipment that he'd maintained aboard her for a lifetime. Names of his crew in Engineering; their families and the mannerisms that they possessed. Anything and everything was going into the recordings. When he was done, when he'd recorded it all... then he'd find a way to get it to the right people, so that it would be shared and thus ensure that wasn't lost with his death.

He'd finished his latest recording, had added a message to Angelienia on the end, and made certain that it went into the last of the discrete message probes that the mission team had been dropping at intervals along their path. He'd done as much as he could now - he'd have to finish later, when they were back. Now, now he was prowling onto the flight deck to wait for the signal to board his modified torpedo and be fired like bullet into the heart of the battle to come. He skirted the bulk of the marines, ignoring the looks that they gave him, and stopped a few meters away from For'kel and Dhani. "Looking for company?" he asked quietly. "I'll not be upset if you'd rather it was someone other than me."

"The more, the merrier Lieutenant." He moved over on the bench so Dhani could make room for him.

Dhanishta patted the bench beside her with her palm. She couldn't think of a topic, she wasn't really in the chatting mood – but company was welcome. Perhaps one of them might start a conversation, Victor might tell a joke, whatever could take her mind off her inner gloom was more than welcome.

Victor nodded, and set down his weapons case next to the pair before joining them. "Colonel," he nodded. "Been modifying your rifle I see." He glanced at Dhani. "And you're going to work hand-to-hand?"

Dhanishta looked down at her boot, "I have a rifle too," she replied sounding somewhat small. Amidst a team of qualified killing machines, plus Victor, she felt somewhat tiny, completely out of her depth – despite all she had done on Romulus, despite how high that one event alone made her kill count – non of them knew that though (and she didn't want them to know that, frankly she wished it had never happened) but still she felt more than a little stupid to be carrying a blade. She was an engineer, not a soldier.

"If you know what to do with that," Victor nodded towards the blade she was wearing, "then you're doing better than I am. My experience with bladed weapons combat starts and ends with 'the pointy end goes in the other man' I'm afraid."

Dhanishta rolled her head from side to side and shrugged, "I used to be adapt with a blade. Been up against all sorts, in competitions and combat," she failed to state exactly when and where that combat took place. The less she said about her life on Qono'S the better.

"But since the coma I feel that I am lacking in the physical strength I used to have. The meds have done nothing to help me put the weight back on," probably 'cause she forgot to take them, and part of her didn't want to take them. For some reason she was wallowing in self pity, self harm and mentally flagellating for all the bad things she believed she had done, and this mission would only add to that.

"Then don't try and smash them," Victor suggested. "Trade power for precision. If your speed is still good, and your skills still sharp, use that and don't worry over the lack of power." He tapped his leg. "They're tripedal, for instance; not built to stand on two legs without falling over. Take out a leg and they're down, and then strength isn't as important anymore."

Dhanishta nodded as he spoke, he had some good points. Though for one with such history she was surprised that he didn't talk like the hunter she knew him to be. Truth be told she wasn't worried so much about her physical strength. She'd taken out a whole field of Hydran with nothing more than her mind. She shuddered.

"Good advice... just remember that regardless of the method you chose, they 'will' be carrying rifles. Whatever you do, make sure they can't fire." For'kel patted Dhani on the shoulder. "You'll be fine Lieutenant. I'm sure Branwen will be happy to see you." And with any luck, so would his wife.

"Thanks," she said with a ghost smile, "I'll keep that in mind." Pulling her ear lobe absently she made her excuses and parted company, she needed the rest room… perhaps she could lock herself in it. No jokes this time round from Victor, maybe he was contemplating mortality too, or preparing for… she didn't want to think about that. Though she was suddenly reminded of Baile. Grimacing, she picked up her rife and slung it over her shoulder with an ease that one might think she belonged amongst all that SMFC green, and made her way through the preparing troops to the ladies, or rather the 'head' as some called it – though she had no idea why.

Meanwhile, Max stayed just outside the range of the two as he ran yet another systems check on his Hazard Suit. The two hours he spent in the Holodeck learning the basics would have to do, and if worse comes to worse, he could always ditch the heavier gear. He didn't want to end up as a hindrance to anyone because of technical difficulties.

Glancing over at Max, Victor asked quietly, "Having problems with the suit? I can check that for you if you'd like?"

"Come What May"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Lt. Commander Amanda Ways-Chief Investigative Officer-Starship division of Family and Child Services for Starfleet

Loction: Ophelia's Personal Quarters

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

Her head lowered, her vision fell upon the padd that rested in her lap as the words bit into her.

"Permanent custody of Logan Alexander Rodriquez Zamora denied. Temporary custody shall remain with Helen Maria Zamora until such a time where the court feels that Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora is of sound mind and body to resume care of Logan Alexander Rodriquez Zamora."

'That was then....this is now.' Zamora thought to herself as she slightly raised her head, giving her quarters a cursory glance. They were new, considered family housing permitting space for her six year old son to have a bed of his own. It was all a part of the 'requirements' that had to be reached before another court appearance would take place to determine if her son could join her on the Galaxy.

Standing, Ophelia walked the short distance to what would be Logan's bedroom and peeked inside. Everything was new. The toys that she thought a boy of six would like winked at her with excited anticipation of being used. A small train table sat in the right corner complete with a train set that she knew he would like from their previous monitored conversations from her time in the penitentiary.

His bed coverings where dark blue, his favorite color. Various pillows of shapes and sized littered the bed. Their primary colors smiled at her, again...they were waiting to be thrown somewhere. Glancing up, she smiled at the train that wound it's way around the room. She herself had painted the engines and cars on the wall once again in primary bright colors. Taking the whole room in, she sighed. If God granted, she would hold him tight in her arms again, hugging him despite his wiggles of protest and whines of 'Come on mommmmm."

Turning her head sharply at the sound of the chime, she bellowed out permission to enter. Wondering instantly if that was the correct thing to do, she hurried to the door straightening her uniform and patting down her hair before offering the woman that stood before her a timid smile.

"Hello."

"Junior Lt. Ophelia Zamora? I'm Lt. Commander Amanda Ways. I'm here to inspect your quarters to make positive that they are sufficient to house a child." The starchy voice of the older woman met her with unseen criticism already. Not a good sign.

"Yes, Ma'am. Please...come in." She ushered the woman inside, pausing to swallow the nervousness that she felt in her gut.

"Now, Lt...."

"Well, this is it. This is where Logan will be staying. You see here...." Zamora pointed to a small collection of holodisks. "These are all his favorite shows. There's Noddy, Sesame Street...ancient...but still good. Oh...and his favorite...Thomas the Tank Engine. I don't think he'll ever............" She stopped as the woman's hand went up.

"That's fine.....now...where will he be sleeping?"

"In here...." The women went into his room as Ways critical eyes scanned the room.

"Again...I have all his favorite things. He really....I mean really likes trains. I did the border myself....just last week. I want everything to be perfect for when he comes here to live with me." She sputtered.

"If he comes to stay with you Lt. I don't have to remind you that........."

Ophelia's face instantly fell. "Well, no....you don't have to remind me." She stated quietly regressing to the main room. She sat defeated on the couch while Ways continued to look around the quarters with the same critical eyes. What appeared to be an eternity passed before she came and sat herself opposite of Ophelia.

Zamora paused before offering a padd to Amanda. "Here is all the academic information on the ship. The educational system here is top notch.....he would be in first grade...but...if he was behind, I would get him a personal tutor. There are two on the ship that have excellent qualifications. And! I already have a child care provider for when he is off school and I am still on my duty shift. I............"

"Very well. Lt." She stood, handing the padd back to Zamora. "I've seen all I need to see."

"What happens next?" Ophelia attempted to whisper out.

"My recommendation will be presented before the regional JAG in the domestic court and you will be notified of the ruling." Her voice still had an authoritative superior edge that grated on Zamora.

"Then?"

"Then, Lt. Zamora, it's up to the JAG. Good day." She exited her quarters as Ophelia slumped back into the couch.

"But.....I just want my son back................."

“Hopes, Fears, Doubts. – Part 1”

Dr. Kimberly Burton

Dr. June M’Kantu

Shiarrael i’Rhehiv’je Terrh’vnau

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

USS Galaxy – Deck 4 – Main Shuttlebay

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

The crew aboard the Galaxy were used to a great many strange things arriving on shuttlecraft, from dignitaries, to new crewmen, to, most lately, archaic nuclear explosives. Despite all of that, the crew assigned to service, maintain, and work with the shuttlecraft aboard the starship prided themselves on maintaining a high degree of professionalism. But, as the deck crew waved the all-clear to the pilot seen in the shadows of the cockpit window and the runabout’s doors opened, at least two of them flirted with losing their professional composure.

“Okay, I’ve seen her before – that’s the Captain’s wife.”

“Captain Tarin has a wife?”

“No you nit! Captain M’Kantu has one, and that’s her.”

“Oh, okay. So… dayumn! Who’s the hottie with her? Looks like…”

“Romulan, she looks Romulan. Sort of. The clothes are Romulan, anyway.”

“I didn’t know Romulans looked like that! Where’s the bumpy thing on her forehead?”

“They don’t all have those, dummy! Did you sleep through Alien Orientation 101 at the Academy?”

“I wouldn’t have if they’d showed us some pictures that looked like her!”

“Shut up, stupid – they’re coming this way! And drop drooling!”

“Man, she gets hotter the closer she gets.”

“Drool, Harkins. Drool… Good morning, Miss, Ma’am, welcome aboard the Galaxy.”

“Good morning, Chief,” the Captain’s wife nodded. “Can you get our things transferred to the Captain’s cabin, please?”

“Of course, Ma’am, Harkins and I will see to that right away.”

“Thank you Chief. If anyone needs us we’ll be in Sickbay.”

“Of course, Ma’am, I’ll pass that along.”

“Thank you again.” She and the younger girl started to walk away, paused, and she turned back to add conversationally, “Oh, and Chief?”

“Yes Ma’am?”

“Would you be kind enough to also pass along two things for me?”

“Of course, Ma’am!”

“First off, the young lady is the Captain’s daughter, Shiarrael, and she’ll be aboard for some time.”

“Ah… yes, Ma’am. I’ll take care of that. And the second thing?”

“I read lips, Chief.”

“Oh sp… I mean, yes Ma’am. A very useful skill, Ma’am!”

“I’ve always thought so, Chief. Carry on.”

“Carrying on, Ma’am!”

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

USS Galaxy – Deck 12 – Sickbay

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

Forewarned of the arrival of the Captains wife, Kimberly was waiting as June M’Kantu and the young Rihannsu girl entered sickbay. After their conversation following the assault on the Captain she had debated what to do should the Captain wake up prior to their arrival, and when he had shown signs of stirring two nights ago and emerging from his self induced coma she had decided to sedate him. She had no problem telling the Captain what had happened, and what was being decided, but she had promised to let June be the one to talk to him. They could face him together and give him the full run down of the situation.

At the end of the day the more support he had the better. Trying to put a reassuring smile onto her face she greeted the two women as they approached. “Doctor M’Kantu, Ms Terrh’vnau,” stumbling over the pronunciation slightly, “it’s nice to meet you both face to face at last.” Indicating her nearby office she led them inside. “Have a seat,” she offered, checking that the normal detritus in her office wasn’t cluttering the spare seats, “I thought we could have a chat before we see the Captain.”

June nodded and took the offered seat, looking more tired than she had over the comm when Kimberly had spoken to her. Shiarrael looked at the offered seat, glanced around the room, and wordlessly took up a position behind and to one side of June’s chair where she could see both Kimberly and the office door.

“Has there been any change?” June asked after Kimberly was seated.

“Some,” Kimberly replied, skipping past any pleasantries for now and focussing on June M’Kantu. “The Captain started showing signs of coming out of his coma the night before last. It wasn’t much, elevated neural activity and a few other signs, but at that point I didn’t want him coming around just yet so we’ve lightly sedated him for now. Nothing too strong, so we should be able to bring him around when we’re ready. His overall condition though, no, there’s been no improvement. I’ve arranged for a specialist neurosurgeon to join us and with her help we’ve been working on the Captains procedure.” Turning slightly she rooted around in a pile of PADD’s at her feet and came up with one which she deleted and then downloaded a selection of files to.

“With Doctor Watson’s help, we’ve made some significant progress in modifying and updating the procedure.” Offering the PADD to June she smiled, “Though there are still risks, we’re making some encouraging progress, and we hope to be ready to go in a day or so.”

“You haven’t spoken to him about the procedure yet, have you?” June asked as the files scrolled down the PADD. “And what, exactly, does ‘encouraging progress’ mean in real-world terms?”

“No,” Kimberly confirmed simply, “I haven’t spoken to him about anything actually. We’ve kept him sedated for now, mainly for his own well being as well as to help us finalise some tests that are best run while his mind is resting. Also,” she admitted frankly, “because I wanted you here when I did speak to him.”

“As for the procedure.” Nodding to the PADD she had handed to June, “Doctor Watson and I have managed to overcome several issues up to now. If I’d attempted the procedure right after the Captain had been injured I would have estimated his chances of simply surviving the procedure at around thirty percent. Now, if I had to give you an estimate I’d say his chances of surviving the procedure are in the high eighties or low nineties, and we have ideas on how to improve those odds further. As for the procedure actually having a beneficial effect, well, he can’t get any worse,” she announced bluntly, “there’s absolutely nothing I can do to make his condition worse, so I’d say any improvement could be considered a success.”

“Will he walk again? Will he be able to live outside a total support field?” Looking at both of them now Kimberly sighed softly. “Honestly, I cannot give you any guarantees, but Gabrielle and I are doing our best to try and achieve just that. We have some simulations and projections running right now, we should know more in a day or so.”

“This… procedure…” Shiarrael spoke up abruptly, her Federation Standard accented exotically, “… it is untested, correct? What you propose to do has never been tried before, even on animals?”

“It has been tried before, but only once on a humanoid,” Kimberly admitted. “That was many years ago though, and there have been a great many advances in medicine since then. There have been some studies done on this, but not as detailed as what has been done here since the Captain was injured. With modern equipment and specialist assistance, this has a very good chance of benefiting the Captain, something no other procedure or facility can offer him right now. Repairing this many damaged nerves is just too complex a task for any procedure but this one.”

She had her doubts, she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t had any. The young lady was right, it was essentially an untested procedure, and despite all her simulations and projections, still difficult and dangerous. Plus she hadn’t been entirely honest earlier, there was one way in which she could make things worse… She could kill the Captain. She could take all the precautions she wanted, there was still the unknown to deal with.

“Find someone else with a broken spine and test it on them first,” Shiarrael suggested. “There must be others in a similar condition, yes?”

"The Basin"

Lt Dhanishta Eshe

Lt Jebidiah Baile

(Takes place after "Pre Launch Jitters" Pt 2)

***Location Hydran vessel en route to Altroth III***

Dhanishta left the crowd of marines and retreated to the rest room. It was little more than a hole in the floor, but it was a place that she could be alone. Checking her suit she began to wonder how they all prepared for battle. This wasn't like the ones she had faced before. Her preparations were ships systems, there was protocol to follow, an order to everything she did. She could deviate from it slightly when she knew of errors or things that needed particular attention. But here, she didn't have a list to follow. She didn't know what to expect down there, or even the trip down.

Max's thoughts stuck with her. Para dropped in a coffin. Was that the way she was going to leave this world? For there was no coming back from that.

She stood resting her hands over a basin, feeling her stomach churn, part of her wanted to throw up – if only to elevate the queasiness she felt. The other wanted to appear hard and warrior like.

Letting the bowl fill with water she dabbed her fingers into it and wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck. Staring into the reflection as the surface rippled she let out a wavering sigh. It echoed how she felt inside.

"How the hell am I going to do this?" she asked her reflection, "I'm not a marine, what was I thinking?"

Sleep. Blissful darkness. Peace.

Baile's breath was deep and even. Dreamless. A simple means of letting the body recharge. Nothing else. He was safe for the time being. His mind relaxed.

Still he opened his eyes.

Salt.

It smelled of salt.

Sweat.

He touched his forehead but his fingers found nothing but dry cool skin. A tattooed arm dropped back down on the bed again. He closed his eyes again and fell back inside his mind. This was the one thing he couldn't get a grasp on. What was it? Why was it? It took a few seconds before he felt it.

The heartbeat.

Hers.

What the hell was going on? Frowning he opened his eyes again. "What's wrong?" As he formed the words in his mind he felt the connection, the fusion of thoughts flow into him.

"I don't know how to do this." Dhanishta said to her reflection, seeing the pool before her shimmer as her breath waxed over its surface.

The former marine yawned and ran a hand over his bald head. "Do what?"

"Be this." Dhanishta replied to the water. "Be whatever it is that I am." She paused and turned from the basin, let her eyes cast out over the pulsing, living walls that surrounded her. Reminding her of the aliens she was to fight, the friend she was going to save, and the thing that nestled under the surface of her psyche that she was terrified of.

"I'm an engineer," she said to the wall, "I fix things, build things, create things." She paused once more, listening to something within, an inner voice that she so rarely heard.

"She lies beneath the surface of my psyche," Dhanishta said as if she was repeating something, "In times of great weakness or peril she breaks forth, to save me?" she questioned, deep furrows wrinkling her brow. She paused for a moment, lost in the words that tumbled from her lips. Uneasy in their meaning, uncertain of where they came from, which part of her mind had thought these before… "I see her actions through my eyes, I hear her thoughts inside my mind, I feel her urges as if they were my own," she whispered, "yet I continually deny her existence…."

A scent filled Baile's mind and touched something deep inside Baile's mind. "Sally..." he wasn't sure what she was talking about but there was something she was waiting for. Something she dreaded. "Did you wake me up to recite poetry or is there something else?" There was something else alright, but he doubted she knew where to begin. He sure as hell didn't know.

Dhanishta frowned, perplexed by her own words, uncertain of why she was talking to the air and more than that – replying to thin air! "You know me…" she said still frowning, "… her…" she corrected pointedly, "…you saved me from being her, from staying her." She turned back to the water, "but you're not here now. Who's going to save me from myself…" she looked to the door, "who's going to save them?"

His thoughts raced back to Romulus where he had encountered 'her' for the first time. Slowly he got up on his feet. He could feel her distress clearly now. Walking over to window he picked up the bottle standing there and pulled off the cork. "Save them? Who's them?"

"Everyone out there," Dhanishta replied looking back at the door, imagining those behind it, all of them preparing for the assault, each of them sure in their experience. "I'm scared," she admitted in a small voice, "not of them, not of the Hydran, not even of the beast hidden behind the mask of Krieghoff, but of me."

She felt her eyes prick, she sucked in her lower lip and bit down on it, "What am I?" she almost demanded.

The clear liquid burned all the way down and settled in Baile's stomach. The bitter taste chased away the last wisps of sleep from his mind. He put the bottle back down and leaned forward against the window, letting his forehead rest against the cool glass. "You're a messed up little girl that's afraid of the boogieman..." Baile had never claimed he had the gift of words. Or tact.

Dhanishta's eyebrows rose. Slightly lost for words her mouth gaped and her tongue flopped within it.

After a few seconds a smile crept across her features, small and subtle, but noticeable on the inside. The brief chuckle her mind replied with was indication of that which showed on the outside.

She found herself staring at nothing again, nothing but the space between her and the floor.

The warmth from his breath and the cold met. The fog evaporated quickly. The room was chilly. It was an abandoned building after all. No heat. "I can't tell you what to do, Dhani... I ditched Starfleet or else I would have killed someone… so if you want that kind of advice... I'm not sure I can help you."

Accepting Smith's offer had proven a very good decision. He felt more whole and in control than he had in months. "I don't think there's any magic word that will work…"

Dhanishta nodded to the voice in the darkness. She looked around the room once more and imagined she could see the stars beyond the walls. "I'm not alone," she realised.

"I can feel her now." She confessed to Baile, "I can hear her thoughts…" her voice shifted but only slightly.

"How do you prepare for battle Jebidiah Baile?" something asked him with stolen lips…

How did he prepare for battle? He wasn't sure. It was not even second nature any more. It simply was. He doubted she meant the practical sides like ammunition, which weapon worked best of which opponent. Baile thought about it for a few moments. "I tune out." he finally said to her. "Nothing except the battle exists. Not what came before. Not what comes after."

There was a pause, a pause that he could feel within himself just as it rippled within her. Like an echo the thoughts reverberated inside her mind, inside his mind.

"When the time comes, she will need you Jebidiah… I will need you. Be ready."

Blinking with confusion Dhanishta stood looking in a pool of murky water. She stared at it for a time until a voice outside pulled her from the confusion.

"I'll be right out." She shouted back to the chorus and then pulled the plug. Turning her back on the basin and all it contained she picked up her rifle, slung it over her shoulder and left.

"Memories of Us"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora

Location: Personal Quarters

=================
The small disc was cradled in her palm. It's surface still gleamed in the artificial light as the reflection of her drawn mouth was visible in it's ridges. Standing, she softly walked over to the disc player and inserted the memories. In a moment, the display flickered to life, his small face very visible. Instantly, tears streamed down her face.

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

"Logan....baby.....say hello...."

A small fat hand shot up in the air as brown eyes danced. "Hi...." He offered then smiled that sweet, innocent child smile of his in an attempt to gain the approval of his mother.

Ophelia chuckled, and although not visible, her presence was felt. "No honey....say H e l l o. I know you can do it....."

Again the hand shot up in the air, waved quickly, and shot back down to his side. "Hi." The single word was followed by a small giggle.

"Logan....." Her face instantly grew very dramatic as she hung her head. The shot widened, taken by her ex husband, and Zamora came into view. She sniffed sadly in dramatic fashion, her head still low, and her voice weepy. "You won't say it for mommy?"

"Ohhhhh......" Came the soft reply as the almost three year old shuffled over to his mother and gave her the best hug he could, slightly patting her on the back the way that she had comforted him many times before. She glanced up and winked at the recorder before hugging her son back.

"It's okay Lo....I was playing with you.....how about now. Can you say hello for mommy and daddy?"

He took a moment, looking about as serious as a two year old could before catching her with his big brown eyes. "No."

"Well, we know he can say no Ophelia....." Came the sarcastic comment.

She shot her husband at the time a look of disdain before Logan caught her attention yet again.

"Mum......" His hands came forward then up to tap his cheeks three times.

"What's he doing that for?"

Ophelia smiled. "It's the motion of his favorite song....If Your Happy and You Know It. Do you want to sing it?"

He nodded his head twice, then clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Okay.......If your happy and you know it...clap your hands...."

The phrase repeated twice, with Logan clapping with all his might and with his eyes dancing in delight yet again.

"If your happy and you know it stomp your feet...."

His left foot raised as his face scrunched up in determination to make the biggest stomp he had ever made. He did, looking up and grinning at his accomplishment. Ophelia laughed outright.

"If your happy and you know it...say horray...."

"Oyeah!" He bellowed with a giggling shriek in his voice.

"Very good!" Zamora chuckled at the antics of her son as he approached her. He cupped her face with his two chubby hands and leaned over, kissing her with a puckering noise on her cheek. She repeated the gesture, kissing him once on each cheek.

"Who's my beautiful boy?" She asked as she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close.

"Me...." He replied simply before yawning.

"Yes....you certainly are my little Boo."

The screen faded to black, causing Ophelia to just stare at the darkness. Sniffing twice, she brought the back of her left hand upwards and forcefully wiped the tears away. "Get it together Ophelia..." She muttered at herself with self appointed anger.

Many nights she prayed to God, without proof that He had heard her cries for her son to be with her yet again. In his rightful place, next to her...his mother. It appeared that what she needed now was a miracle, plain and simple. Her hope in gaining her son back, the light that forced her to continue her quest was fast fading as days passed into weeks.

She was fearful that she would never be able to touch him in person again. The next time she would be able to, he would be but a young man of eighteen years. Gone was the chance to walk him down the corridors to school, gone....the chance to see him go to his first dance, take shuttle lessons, reveal at his musical or sporting accomplishments. All that and much more was fading.

Ophelia felt her heart rip just a little. He was her son! How dare her mother take him away. Yes, with a little sigh she did realize that the circumstances she was in with her husband was not an environment proper for raising her child. Yes, she did agree with that. But he was dead! She was free and clear of any charges despite the facts of what occured in the court room that fateful afternoon.

Her spirit wavered a little as she reclined back on her sofa into a resting position. Her hands were tucked under her left cheek and made a bony pillow, but a pillow none the less. Her once bright eyes that danced frequently felt dead and lost. The glimmer gone. She had been through a great deal of hurt, physically and emotionally by the hands of her now dead husband. Yet, through all that pain and suffering, she held strong for her son. There were times that the little being she gave birth to was her only reason for living as she attempted to hide in a corner as the blows from her husband's fists assaulted her.

With their future so uncertain, she felt dim. He was her life force. The reason she was who she was, it was housed in the small soul of a six year old boy. Closing her eyes, she sighed as the tears silently weaved their crystal trails down her sullen cheeks.

"I love you Logan.......Mommy will always love you.....Please come back to me...."

Her whispers floated to the Heavens above, finally being heard by the God she questioned existed. Glancing down, He parted the clouds with his eyes settling on the young woman that sadly rested on a small couch on a starship. Compassion washed over his strong features as He studied her. Clearing his throat, he raised his head to his humbled assistant and nodded his head affirmatively.

"Pre Launch Jitters" Part Three

Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff - Security Second

Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell – EMRT

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

(Launch Bay- Marine Alpha)

He did feel the strange sensation of needing to practice avoidance with this man, but he found surprising strength within himself and nodded to the Security Officer to proceed. "Thanks," Max added verbally, his voice catching for just a moment.

"No problems," Victor nodded and stood up. A few steps and he was examining the suit's readout panel. "You've got the basic settings okay - what seems to be the problem, specifically?"

Max didn't want to admit that he only had about two hours training on the damned thing, so he had to think fast. "Switching from the weapons loadout microbuffer to the medical microbuffer. I wanna make sure that I can grab a hypo instead of a plasma grenade and vice versa. Is there a way to hot switch between the two modes?"

"Yes," Victor nodded, "You set it up like this." He demonstrated. "They're hot-keyed now." He stepped back. "Practice a few times while we're here."

"Hey doc?" For'kel started passing out rations for their last meal on the boat. "Just make sure that you stick to emergency situations only down there. We can't be pinned down while you're healing every scratch and bruise you come across. That can wait until we're back up here."

"Yeah, I'll try to keep that in mind, Colonel," Max smiled. Turning to Krieghoff, Max held his smile and nodded his thanks.

"No problem," Victor replied. "Do you want me to take a look at the shield coverage regulator and renewal rate compensator while I'm here? Shouldn't take more than a minute."

"Um, yeah, sure. Go right ahead," Max nodded and smiled. He had no idea what the hell Krieghoff was talking about, but as long as it kept him and his patients alive, he was perfectly fine with it. Eerie feeling or not.

Victor turned back to the controls on the suit's left forearm for a moment, looked at them, and then frowned. "I know that things have been hectic for the Hazard Team lately, but have they managed to fully check you out on the suit yet? I ask, because you don't have the shields set up yet." His hands worked the controls and HUD menus flashed across Max's eyes faster than he could read them.

"Best that you don't, at least not until we pop the attack." For'kel for one didn't particularly care for the overly loaded Hazard Team suits. They had a lot of options it was true, but they also lit you up like a damned firework for the bad guys. "If you don't want to give away your locale anyway."

"Though if you want to survive the trip in the pods you'll wear it." Dhanishtas voice echoed through the hall before she could be seen. Stepping into the light she nodded to them all, "Ready to go?" she asked.

Her demeanor had changed, she looked somewhat paler than she had before and there was an edge to her voice that almost didn't belong to the lithe engineer. Avoiding Victor's eyes Dhanishta passed him and Max and retrieved her own hazard suit.

"Well," Max admitted, "Dr. Elarin only had a short time to orient me to the suit. It's why I wanted to rely on the hotkeys for basic and emergent operations."

"I thought it was something like that," Victor said as he worked on the controls. "I'll set you up for the regular training after we get back." He touched a few more controls, the suit hummed for a moment, and then settled back down.

"All right, here's the short form. The suit has a set of internal shield generators. They're good up to about our setting eight on phaser weaponry, although at the upper range you'll feel some residual impact. After that point they'll bleed off some of the attack but it gets dangerous fast; just remember that it doesn't make you invulnerable. They're also not inexhaustible; – the more hits you take, the less shielding you have. I've set the suit to give you prompts when power levels are low and keyed it to flag known Hydran power distribution points to help you recharge." He tapped the buckle over Max's middle.

"This is your recharge point. It's a self-adapting universal connector, so release the catch here, pull it out – you've got about two meters of cable – and connect it. The suit does the rest. I've set the shields to verbal controls, so all you need to do is say 'Shields On' and they're up, and Shields Off' and they're down. Like the Colonel said, once they're on, you stand out like a mugato at a nudist colony, so leave them off until the shooting starts. If you need to shield a patient, just interpose yourself between him and the incoming fire – the field extends out about to here," Victor held his hand about a foot away from Max, "so you have a little leeway in protecting someone else." Victor paused and then asked, "Is that enough for right now?"

"I don't believe there should be a problem now that the controls are adjusted correctly. Thanks, much appreciated," the Medic replied. He glanced over at the Chief Engineer, who didn't look very healthy at the moment...like a bad night on the Lower East Side.

"You okay over there? You're not looking like you had your orange juice this morning..."

Dhanishta nodded numbly as she stepped into her suit. Pulling it up over her combats she zipped it up and began a mental check list as she went through the suits controls. Tune out – that had been what he had said, nothing before the battle exists, and nothing that comes after… ~tune out Dhani~ she told herself ~focus on the battle at hand and nothing else.~ The plans played out once more in her mind, like a child reciting a bed time story by rote.

Last checks had been completed on everything. They were as ready as they could ever hope to be. "Alright people, let's mount up. I'll see you all planet side." For'kel opened the hatch to his torpedo and climbed in.

"Last one in's a rotten egg, ha ha," Max challenged as he squeezed himself into his torpedo. He actually found sick humor in this predicament, a torpedo with humans as the warhead. Guaranteed to make a splat, he thought. Then quickly regretted it and instead turned his thoughts to when he'd see Victory again.

Dhanishta hesitated for a moment, she wished she could be as light hearted as Max, but she was bricking it. Nodding to a silent question she checked her suite one more time, grabbed her rifle and joined anxiety in the tube.

Victor nodded to the others and worked himself into his own tube, strapping himself in with the extra impact webbing that he'd installed on his own to help offset the problems associated with his size and the case of extra equipment he was bringing. He wasn't certain that any of it would be necessary - some security breaching gear, extra clothing and medical supplies for the internees, and a selection of odds and ends that he'd wished he'd had at other times while breaking into or out of enemy facilities - but he'd made up his mind that he'd rather have it than not.

 

“Hopes, Fears, Doubts. – Part 2”

Captain Daren M’Kantu
Dr. Kimberly Burton
Dr. June M’Kantu
Shiarrael i’Rhehiv’je Terrh’vnau

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USS Galaxy – Deck 12 – Sickbay
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<Con’t…>

“Find someone else with a broken spine and test it on them first,” Shiarrael suggested. “There must be others in a similar condition, yes?”

“I’ve no doubt that there are others in a similar condition out there,” Kimberly admitted with a nod, “in fact there are specialist care centre on Terra, Vulcan and Thera where people are in long term care with similar injuries. I’ve been in communication with all three centres regarding the Captains condition, and while there is considerable interest in the procedure I’m working on, someone has to be the first, and none of these centres are prepared to attempt an untried procedure at this time.” Looking at Shiarrael with some sympathy Kimberly understood her hesitation and concern, but someone had to be the first, and she doubted the Captain was the sort of person who would want someone to be put at risk in order to try and save him.

“I realise you want reassurance, and to know it will help him. Right now we have one of the most capable neurosurgeons in the sector aboard to do the procedure, and we’ve been working on this non stop since he was injured. And I can assure you before we attempt anything we’ll do our best to make sure he comes out of this with nothing but a positive result.” Softening her tone as she spoke Kimberly found herself remembering why she dreaded conversations like this. Speaking with next of kin about critically injured patients was damn near the top of her list of hates about her job.

“So,” June spoke up, still reading the lines of text scrolling across her PADD. “In essence, we’re still where we were the last time we talked. There are no guarantees for the procedure, no other options that offer any hope short of a Q appearing and fixing things with a wave of its hand, and the only certainty is that if we do nothing, Daren will be like this for the rest of his life. Balanced against that is the chance for a recovery of at least some, if not all, of his body’s functionality if we’re willing to risk losing him completely. Does that more or less sum things up?” She looked up and met Kimberly’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t say we’re in the same place when we last spoke,” she contradicted gently, “we’ve made significant progress in refining the procedure and dramatically increasing the odds of a successful outcome. When I first mentioned this I wouldn’t have dreamed of performing the procedure, now I’m hopeful that we can actually do this. It has risks,” she admitted frankly, “any new procedure has, but using the data from the one success and a considerable amount of research and theoretical work has shown we have a good chance of helping the Captain. The severity of his injury though does mean that there will always be a chance of failure. His neck was broken, and frankly it’s a miracle that he is still with us for us to be even contemplating this. But unless he want’s to spend the rest of his life in a total life support restraint I believe this is his only other option at present… Barring a Q showing up that is.”

“Even if one showed up,” June said with a slight sigh, “Daren would refuse its offer. There would be strings attached, and he’d never agree to that.”

Shiarrael frowned. “That is the third time you have mentioned these ‘Q’ – to what, or who, are you referring?”

Looking at the young lady Kimberly frowned, she seriously doubted that Shiarrael had the needed clearance to know the details regarding ‘that’ particular entity, though the entity was known, the details were classified. She’d read the reports once she’d made senior staff, it had been one of many files that she’d spent several days going over.

Several boring days for the most part, though there had been some very interesting reading in a few files.

“I’m sorry Ms Terrh’vnau, but I’m going to have to pass on that one except to say that Mrs M’Kantu is right, it’s not an option so let’s move on.” Looking outside for a moment she looked to Arrietty who had been waiting patiently. Nodding slightly she watched her head nurse walk away towards the Captains side room. “Arrietty is going to wake the Captain. Why don’t we go and speak to him, get his thoughts? After all, it’s his life, ultimately it’s his decision.”

June snorted quietly as she got up. “Please, Doctor, we’re all women here – and we all know exactly who’s making this choice for him. To Daren’s credit, so will he as soon as he sees us there; but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re really choosing for him.”

Shiarrael looked at June oddly for a second, but said nothing, merely nodding in assent.

Unable to disagree with that Kimberly stood, the Captain should be awake by now and finally she could brief him on what needed to be done. “If you’ll follow me please?” Leading the way Kimberly walked the short distance to the side ward in silence she steeled herself for another of her pet hates about her job.

Pausing before the door she faced the two women, “Please remember, the Captain has been unconscious or sedated since his injury, I’ll ask the XO to come down and give him a brief on what’s been going on with the ship if he starts asking too many questions, but I’d like to focus on his treatment for now. I’d also like to try and keep this brief so we don’t tax him to much. Okay?”

June nodded, “All right.” She looked to Shiarrael, who nodded silently. Turning back, she continued, “How long will it take before he’s cognizant of his surroundings?”

“We only gave the Captain a light sedative after he started coming around, so he should be coherent by the time we go inside. Would you like me to talk to him first?” Kimberly offered gently, “I should be the one to tell him what’s happened.”

June checked with Shiarrael again, received a nod of assent, and turned back. “Go ahead, Doctor. We’ll wait here until you call for us.”

Returning the nod Kimberly entered the side ward and paused a moment to let her eyes adjust. The lights were slightly dimmer in here, though not dark enough to cause a problem. Arrietty was beside the Captain, checking the readouts above his head and in one corner Sam and Jake, two of her MedTechs were fussing quietly over a piece of equipment they were installing. Looking at the two she nodded to the door, taking the hint they left what they were doing and stepped out. Walking over to the Captain she rested her hand on Arriettys shoulder and let her quietly step aside. “Captain?” she enquired in a soft tone, “Can you hear me? It’s Kimberly.”

Daren blinked once, slowly, and then gradually opened his eyes. “You,” he said with the strained voice of someone that hasn’t spoken in weeks, “do not look like Lieutenant Krieghoff.”