OOC: This takes place way, way WAY back just after the end of the last mission. It happens after
"The Big Chill" but, due to my galavanting around every corner of the country the past few weeks,
Kat and I didn't get the chance to finish it until now. So anyhoo, here it is...

"A Confession"

Lt. Cdr. Tarin Iniara
Acting CO

Lt. Chris Daniels
Acting Chief Tactical Officer

Turbolift 1
===========

Boots clean, pants straight and unwrinkled, shirt clean and zipped up,
outer coat sleeves down, commbadge not cocked off to one side, stubble gone...such were the
uniform subtleties that one had to take when going to see the senior staff. Normally Chris had a
much more casual look about him when he was working, but being the good officer and department
head that he was, he could clean up well when the situation warranted it. As the lift slowed, he
lifted his outer coat's zipper up to a more professional level, and then exited the lift; seeing,
for the first time since the battle, the repaired bridge. It tripped him out for a second, then
he shook it off, making a beeline straight for the ready room. He'd have plenty of time to
reminisce.

****

"understood, Ensign." The XO nodded at her screen as the youngish Bolian continued to chatter on.
Normally she wouldn't have minded dealing with personnel issues-- it was part of her job, after
all--but as the acting CO of the ship for at least the forseeable future, Iniara found that she
didn't really have the time to deal with this.

"Ensign." She sighed, wondering if the man would ever take a breath. "Ensign, may I have a
moment?"

That did it. The Bolian abruptly stopped, blinked once, and then his cheeks began to flush
violet. "I'm...sorry, sir."

"Not a problem, Ensign." Iniara smiled softly, wondering why for the life of her she suddenly
couldn't remember this man's name. "May I suggest that you bring the matter to your shift
supervisor first? He or she may be able to resolve this matter more easily...and more
quickly...than me." ~And with a lot less of a headache on my part,~ she added mentally.

The man looked somewhat deflated, but nodded dutifully anyway. "Yes sir. I'll contact Lieutenant
Sotak right away. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Iniara finished, then clicked off the screen.

Less than two seconds later, the door chime rang.

The XO resisted the urge to curse, instead wiping a hand down her face and putting on a neutral
expression before calling out, "Enter!"

****

He waited paitently until the door opened, and when it did, he took a
deep breath and walked through the door. Despite having spent a year as a department head,
he really wasn't used to talking to them yet. Even still, he walked in, three paces in front
of her desk and stood at attention.

"Ma'am, Lieutenant Daniels requests return to full duty status." He
handed over the PADD with the Doctor's signature on it, wondering why they still had this
formality.

"At ease, Lieutenant," she replied automatically, taking the padd from
him and quickly scanning its contents. Everything seemed to be in
order, otherwise Dr. Burton wouldn't have cleared him for duty in the
first place.

"How fares the wrist?" she asked, looking up from the padd.

Chris instinctively looked down at the thing and then brought his gaze
back up. "Doc said I have another few days before the bone structure's fully healed. Won't be
playing any tennis for awhile, but with some rehab exercises it should be back to normal
eventually."

"Good to hear." She nodded and looked back down at the padd for a moment, then pressed her thumb
to the appropriate square. "You're officially cleared for duty, Mr. Daniels. Welcome back."

As she handed the padd back, Iniara noticed a flutter of something
crossing the man's surface thoughts, something that seemed a little
bit off. Ordinarily she would have been able to snatch it up,
dissect, analyze, then file the information for further consideration
in less than the blink of an eye. But thanks to the inhibitors...

Well, she'd just have to use more conventional means to figure out the puzzle.

"Have a seat, Mr. Daniels," she continued, indicating the pair of
guest chairs waiting patiently. "You...served with Lieutenant
Commander K'aa aboard Miranda, did you not?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am...and Atlantis for a brief period as well
before I transferred over here. It was definitely...two different ends of the personality
spectrum." Chris shifted a bit in his hair. He wanted to get the more traditionally obtained info
out of the way before the...other stuff..."Before I forget, I stopped by the CIC and had a talk
with my division chiefs. We had Ensign Dar'ce on the POW interrogation team...smart kid by the
way...and he was giving some good information that I've outlined on this PADD." He handed it
over. "Basically, from what he's getting, the Hydrans came to the nebula for the express purpose
of getting the Starbeasts, with little regard for the fact that they were penetrating into
Federation space."

"Interesting..." She skimmed the information for a moment before
handing back the padd. "It would explain why the Hydrans were here in
the first place."

Chris shrugged. "It's an interesting theory...but from what we've
seen, the Hydrans don't just disregard Federation presence. They're almost as meticulous as the
Vulcans. I urged Dar'ce to keep sweating the prisoners for more information, I've got the analysis
division working to decode the movements of the Hydrans; their approach to the Deltan system,
their movements to the nebula, and all the Electronic surveillance we picked up to put together
the total picture..." Chris shifted in his chair, an unease coming over his face that didn't take
an empath to read.

Iniara nodded her approval. "A good start."

"But I wasn't totally convinced...so I..." he looked down and took a
deep breath. "...went down to the brig...without approval...and convinced the guard to give me a
few minutes alone with our Gorn prisoner."

"While that's a slight break from protocol, I can't say I blame you,
Mr. Daniels." Iniara exhaled slowly and looked down at her clasped
hands, doing her best to make sense of the emotions that were coming
off the young Lieutenant. After a moment, she looked back at him, and
asked, "What did you learn from him?"

"Three things really...the cold is affecting him to the point where if
you challenge him mentally he may slip and reveal something, which is how I got what I did out of
him. I sort of...antagonized him as I left threatening to turn the temperature
down and he snapped. The second is that his intentions in his mission here weren't necessarily
to kill the captain, but he did mention that the Galaxy was supposed to be boarded, leading me to
believe that the Hydrans didn't just come here to check out the Starbeasts. Finally, he
mentioned, rather cryptically, that there's more to come." Chris decided that it would be best
for now to leave out the more...personal...parts of the conversation that K'aa and Chris had.

"There is always more to come," Iniara responded, her expression
darkening. Not for the first time she wondered when-- or if-- the
conflict with the Triad would ever end. For the past four years Triad
forces would attack and Federation forces would push them back, over
and over and over, until it seemed like the whole thing was destined
to be one long stalemate that would stick around for decades. There
had to be a way to push the balance in their favor...but if there was,
Iniara doubted she would be the one to discover it. The 'big picture'
of this war was well above her level of comprehension, so for the time
being she would have to play the part she was given and hope that in
some way it helped.

A long moment passed before she continued. "Have you shared your
findings with Commander Corgan? As he is responsible for the
continuing interrogation of our prisoner, what you have learned may
help him tailor his, ah, 'sessions'."

Chris shook his head. "Not yet, ma'am. I'll make it a point to get
over there soon. I just wanted to, um, confess my sins before I went any further with it."

"See Corgan as soon as possible; what you've learned could be very
useful to the Commander," Iniara spoke deliberately, at the same time
trying to figure out what her response to him 'confessing his sins'
should be. Terran religious practices were so complex, she thought to
herself; figuring out the proper response was likely to give her an
aneurysm. "I'm also somewhat curious as to why you went to see K'aa
in the first place. Was it for pure information gathering, curiosity,
revenge...?"

Chris nodded his understanding. "It was a decision made on pure
emotion, ma'am. I needed to do it as much for myself as I did for the tactical value that our
prisoner has. Given the circumstances, I can't say I wouldn't do it again."

"Nonetheless, now that your curiosity has been satiated with regards
to your former crewmate, I don't want you talking to him again unless
Corgan knows about it. Clear?"

He nodded again. "Perfectly clear, Commander." Very quietly, he sighed. He had expected more of
a tongue lashing. Meanwhile, independent of the part of his brain handling the situation with the
XO, the darker side of his mind started thinking of ways...reasons...excuses to get back into the
Gorn's jail cell.

"Good to hear. Is there anything else?"

Chris shook his head.

"Alright then. Thank you for your report, Mr. Daniels; keep me
informed if you discover anything else that's useful."

"Will do ma'am, thank you." He came to attention one last time as she dismissed him, then he
promptly turned and walked out. As the doors shut behind him, he looked at the ceiling and
quietly thanked his lucky stars. Depsite the bullet he felt he had just dodged, it was good to be
back.

"Don't Panic"

Lieutenant (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineer

Ensign Richard Ringo Langly (ONPC)
Computer Systems Engineer

Ensign Susan Delphino
Danage Control Engineer

With a short appearance of:
Crewman Pete Staid (NPC)
Crewman George High (NPC)

*** USS Galaxy, Deck 17 ***

".I'm serious Pete, half my console is gone! It's like something has been
eating from it. You can even see little teeth!"

"Ah, come on George, you really think I'm going to believe that?" Pete
looked sideways to his friend while they kept walking and continued half
whispering. "Didn't I warn you not to try out that 'Spaceca... '-"

Both men looked up the moment Pete abruptly stopped mid-sentence.
"Goodmorning, sir." both uttered in unison, forcing themselves to smile the
'All's good'-smile.

Michael nodded as he passed them by. " 'Morning." Of course, it wasn't a
good morning, but his reply was more out of habit than anything else. The
conversation he'd overheard was one of many on this early morning. He
remembered people talking about broken replicators, missing desktop
terminals, and power outages. The most surprising part was that until so far
all those stories had proved to be true. By now Engineering was swamped with
complaints, and it seemed that they could add a 'half eaten console' to the
ever growing list.

~Spaceca? What's that?~

["Langly to McDowell!!"]

The hasty call interrupted Michael's thoughts on the peculiar phrase. ~Oh
no, please, not him. Not now.~ He stopped walking and, after a second a
deliberation, slapped his combadge.

"McDowell here. Go ahead..."

["My, my... My Computers!! ...Help?"]

"Your computers. What about them, Richard?" It was always about 'his'
computers. Richard was one who could not live without 'his' computers. Okay,
two hours tops and that was it. After that time he started to suffer from
withdrawal symptoms. "Oh wait, they're broken, right?"

["Broken? Broken!? Someone or something ate them!! And no, I'm not crazy!"]

~That remains to be seen.~ Michael mentally added. But he was the second
person who said his computer had literally been devoured. ~Alright, maybe he's
not as crazy as I thought.~

"Who said anything about being crazy? I...-"

["Meowki Haat! That furball!! He said I was crazy when I told him what
happened."]

"Richard, calm down. Meowki is very busy right now, like we all are. I'm
sure he didn't...- "

["Busy? Oh yeah, and that gives him the righ-"]

"Ensign, calm down!! That's an order." Michael almost yelled when giving
that order. Several people, who passed him in the corridor, looked at him.
Michael could only guess what they were thinking, but he wouldn't be
surprised if it was something like 'what is his problem?'. "And don't
interrupt me when I'm talking."

["Aye...sir."]

"Alright. Now, about your computers. You're a Computer Specialist, aren't
you?"

["Yes, sir, I sure am. Computers are my buddies. I know them through and
through. No one is better than me when it comes to computers."] There was a
pause before the computer addict continued. ["Well, okay, except for the two
Bynars."]

"If that is so, then why are you asking for my help? Seems to me that you're
perfectly able to fix your own computers. The right man for the job."
Michael had started walking again. This conversation took longer than he
expected and he was supposed to be somewhere else right now.

["But I can't do it on my own. It's too much, too complex. It'll take me
weeks. I can't wait that long. I NEED help! ...Pleeaase?"]

Michael closed his eyes for a moment and wondered how he could get Richard
of his back. Talking to him could become so tiring. "Hey, why not ask
Ensigns CAFE and BABE to help you out? With their expertise you'll be back
online in no time."

["I've already done that."]

"And?"

["Lieutenant Sun says she can't spare them. They're needed elsewhere right
now."]

Michael nodded in reaction to Richard's answer. Most of the Engineers were
running around the ship (again) to repair that what had broken down. It only
made sense that the two Bynars, being so unbelievable skilled in fixing
computer problems, were put to work there where they were needed most.
Richard's computers were just not top priority. It was as simple as that. "I
see. Then I hate to say this to you Richard, but I think you just have to
wait until we've mastered this crisis. Don't take it personal. It's just the
way things are."

["But, but, but..."]

"No buts. Just sit this one out. Why don't you get some sleep? Your next
shift is in about five hours." Michael said. He tried to be as clear as
possible.

["I can't sleep. Not with these dead computers in my room. It's kind of
creepy. That and I miss the humming noise they make. I can't sleep without
it."]

~What the?? Now I'm sure. He IS crazy.~ Michael started to feel annoyed. If
he didn't do something then this conversation would go on and on and drive
him crazy too in the process. "Then, geez Rich', think of something! Go play
some games on that antique... How did you call it? PlayBox 3?"

["Blasphemy! It's 'XBox 360', not 'PlayBox 3'! The other one is 'Playstation
3'. How could you mix those two up!!?"]

"Eh...I forgot. I'm sorry, okay?"

["You forgot. You heathen! And you call yourself a true Engineer. Be gone! I
will speak to you no more!"]

"Hey! I said I'm sorry. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, it's just a little
mistake. That's not such a big deal, right?"

["Langly out!"]

~Crap! Richard, you're an idiot.~

*** Deck 22, Jefferies tube 22-3019 ***

Michael sniffed a few times. The stench, it was almost unbearable. What
happened out here? The report only told of a ruptured EPS conduit and that
didn't smell this way. He rounded one last corner before he reached the
location of the EPS conduit. It was a complete mess. Everything was covered
under a layer of soot...and...fur? Close to the conduit lay a whole bunch of
what looked like burned tennis balls from a distance. But on closer
inspection Michael saw it definitely weren't tennis balls.

"McDowell to Engineering."

["Delpino here. What have you got?"]

"I'm not sure really. The conduit is a total loss. That's for sure. We need
to replace a whole section of it. What I don't understand are these burned
remains of..."

["Of what?"]

"I don't know. You tell me. They look a bit like tennis balls. Well, the
burned ones anyway. There's soot and fur all over the place. I can only
assume the fur came from those little ball-like things. Have any idea?"

["No, not in the slightest."]

"Same here. I'll bring a few of the objects to Engineering. Maybe we or the
Science Department can figure it out in a post mortem inspection."

["Agreed. I'll send Ensign Mai and Petty Officer Evans to help you fix the
conduit."]

"Thanks. That would be great. And Susan?"

["Yes?"]

"I was just thinking, is it possible that kids with their toys have been
playing here and somehow screwed things up?"

["Nah, no way. Sensors would've picked that up."]

"If the sensors are working like they should. Nowadays I'm not even sure of
that."

["Ah yeah, got it. But I don't really want to think about that. Do you?"]

"No, not really. We have enough problems as it is."

["You said it. I'll see you later with those burned...thingies, okay?"]

"After we fixed the conduit. Say in about...two hours. I bet there are a lot
of grumpy people right now that are waiting for their replicator or sonic
shower to function again."

["Tell me about it. I got about 70 complaints here coming from the section
you're in now."]

"Oh joy. Thanks for reminding me. Makes me feel so much better." Michael
said in a half teasing half mocking way. "Anyway, just tell them that it
takes about two more hours and that we're working it as fast as we can. It's
the best we can do."

["I'll do that. Good luck with that conduit. Delphino out."]

"Courier Service"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Acting CO, USS Galaxy

Rear Admiral Odetta Pearle
Second Officer, 10th Fleet

*****

Pausing half a moment to straighten her hair and uniform, Iniara
dropped into her chair and activated the LCARS panel. The ubiquitous
Starfleet delta flashed on screen for a split second before being
immediately replaced by the face of Rear Admiral Pearle. The
Admiral's expression was neutral, her thin lips drawn into a straight,
though not overly tight, line. In the several times she'd spoken with
the older Terran, Iniara had learned that this was about as close to
an emotionless expression as the woman could get.

Which, of course, meant that Iniara had no way of knowing what was coming next.

"Good afternoon, Admiral," Iniara opened.

"Commander," Pearle replied with a slight nod of her head. "How are things?"

"Not too bad, all things considered," Iniara replied, hoping in the
back of her mind that this was the call where Command would finally
give them something more to do than sitting around at a space station.
"All repairs from the battle were completed at least a week ago. The
Science department is continuing their analysis of the data we
obtained in the nebula, and interrogation continues with the few
Hydran prisoners who haven't yet been transferred. At last count we
have six EPWs on board; the rest have been moved elsewhere."

Pearle nodded. "And what of K'aa?"

"Still in the Brig, waiting. I assume he will eventually be
transferred to a more permanent holding facility?"

"Yes... Have there been any problems with him?"

Brief flashes of the reports she'd read came to Iniara, including one
detailing the incident where K'aa had almost escaped, only to be
buried under a mountain of tribbles. She didn't think the Admiral
needed to know about that, or the strange tribble infestation. Not
now at least. She shook her head slowly and answered, "No ma'am,
nothing major. Cool temperatures in the brig have kept him
very...docile."

Pearle nodded again, then frowned slightly as she leaned forward,
tapping a few buttons on her console, her rapid eye movements
indicating that she was skimming some text on her screen. "That's
odd. I'll need to check on something," she said quietly, probably to
herself, before adding in a more normal voice, "In the meantime,
however..."

Iniara couldn't help but perk up at that. A new mission perhaps?
Something more exciting than repairs and diagnostics; something that
would get the crew moving around again? Something that would actually
test her own prowess as commanding officer of a Federation flagship?

"Because of continuing Triad aggression in the area, Deep Space 3 is
experiencing a critical shortage of weaponry, ammunition, you name it.
And as it turns out, Deep Space 4 has quite a bit of surplus on hand.
The quickest way to get DS3 what they need is to transfer it from DS4.
So..."

"You want us to transport what they need?" Iniara finished.

"Yes, Commander," Pearle answered in a low voice. Too late, Iniara
remembered her etiquette lessons, and the rule about never
interrupting admirals. Oops, she thought.

"Pardon my forthrightness, ma'am, but why Galaxy? Surely there are
cargo ships in the area that are equally equipped for the task?"

The Admiral shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. Galaxy is the
largest, fastest ship in the vicinity of Deep Space 3. The necessary
supplies will more than fit in your cargo bays."

"Understood, ma'am." Iniara tried not to sink too far back into her
chair and forced her lips together so the sigh that was building
within wouldn't escape. Transferring cargo from one station to
another...how uneventful.

"Station Operations has already been notified, and they are preparing
the cargo for transfer as we speak. Once it has been loaded, you are
to make best possible speed to Deep Space 3. Understood?"

Iniara nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"A complete cargo manifest has been sent to you, your ex-oh, and the
Operations Chief. Any questions?"

"No ma'am."

"Good. Pearle out."

And as the screen winked out, Iniara decided there was no point
holding it in, so she let out the sigh. Their next mission was as a
courier service. The flagship of the 10th Fleet, a ship bristling
with its own weapons and crewed by some of the most brilliant minds in
the quadrant, was now a glorified cargo ship. How irritating.

She reached forward to deactivate the console, then stopped in mid
reach and called out, "Computer, display a map of local space, two
light year radius from the station. Display all known Starfleet ships
in the vicinity." The map, mostly empty, suddenly lit up with nearly
three dozen gold points, most of them centered around the bulk of DS4.
"Now display only cargo vessels." Most of the points winked out, but
still five remained.

"What in the..." Close to half a dozen cargo ships only a few hours'
journey from the station, and Galaxy was being made to do their work.
She couldn't help but sigh again, some small part of her mind
wondering just why they were being assigned to such a menial task.
But, orders were orders. At least it was something.

"Hopes, Fears, Doubts. - Part 3"

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
USS Galaxy - Deck 12 - Sickbay
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

<Con't...>

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."

Smiling she refrained from asking the obvious question, "Well I'm sure there
are many who're glad I don't look like the Lieutenant." She quipped
lightly. "If I may sir, what's the last thing you remember?"

Daren appeared to consider that. "Talking to Lieutenant Krieghoff," he
finally admitted. "On the plains of Tanzania. About... choices." He
paused, and then added slowly, "And not being permitted to die."

~ Tanzania? Not quite what I was expecting? ~ Sitting beside the Captain
she put that non-sequitur to one side for now, she could follow that up
later, though it was likely he was still a little out of it from the
sedatives. The other comment though... "Well, I know I speak for a great
many people when I say I'm glad you heard Lieutenant Krieghoff, and did what
he asked."

"How much do you recall about what happened on the bridge sir?"

"Aside from Commander K'aa breaking my neck, you mean?" Daren answered. "I
remember that clearly. Then... then I remember thinking that I was dying,
and..." He paused, and then added, "And then I was on the plains of
Tanzania, like when I was a child, talking to lizards... and Lieutenant
Krieghoff."

~ Well, he's either having a reaction to the meds... Check that later... or
K'aa did more damage than I thought... Check that now... ~ Pulling out her
tricorder she set it to run a silent scan and placed it beside the Captains
head. "Did the, ah lizards or the Lieutenant have anything interesting to
say?" She enquired as she waited for the scan to finish.

"The lizard wanted me to die, and the Lieutenant didn't," Daren answered
carefully. "Obviously you can tell which one I listened to." He blinked.
"I think that whatever medication you have me on is causing me to have...
vivid hallucinatory dreams? Something like that. The lizard was obviously
supposed to be Commander K'aa, and the Lieutenant is, well, the Lieutenant.
Unless they weren't, in which case I have no idea what was happening."

"I'll check the medication," she promised as she glanced at the tricorder,
"and see if we can come up with something different for next time. Did you
know though that in dream interpretation, a lizard can represent a person
you view as cold-blooded, quite apt really. And if a lizard is killed in
your dream it can symbolise regaining something you have lost. If I were a
superstitious person I'd take that as a good omen." All those hours spent
on dream interpretation during her counselling classes, so boring at the
time, yet in this one instant how so useful.

Sitting down on a stool beside the Captain she made sure she was in his
field of view before she continued. "Sir. You said you remember K'aa
breaking your neck." Taking a deep breath she struggled for a moment to
continue, ~ Goddess how I hate this! ~ This was ever easy. Irritably
swiping away a tear that formed in one eye she took a second deep breath and
let it out slowly.

~ Not here... Not now! ~ She berated herself.

"Sir, do you realise what's happened to you then?" She asked in a level
tone, "What K'aa has done and what that means?"

"Considering," he said slowly, "that despite my best efforts, I have been
unable to move neither my arms, my legs, or anything in-between, since I
regained consciousness - and I have tried - I think it's obvious that I'm
paralyzed. Or is that a function of the restraint field I hear humming?"

"I'm afraid it's not the restraint field Sir." She apologised. "You're
correct, when K'aa attacked you the damage he inflicted was quite severe.
You're... He broke your neck Sir..." Pausing a second she swallowed several
times quickly and blinked to stem any tears that threatened to well up.
This was harder than she could have ever have anticipated. This was the
Captain damn it, this shouldn't have happened, not on his own bridge, not at
the hands of one of his own.

"Lieutenant Krieghoff managed to keep you stable until I got there Sir, and
we got you onto full life support as quickly as we could. I'd like to point
out that if the Lieutenant hadn't stepped in I don't think you'd still be
here right now." Talking a little faster now and with less hesitation she
moved on quickly, heading for that one bright spark in all of this, the
glimmer of hope. "From our scans you don't seem to have suffered any
neurological damage to your brain, it's only your spine that has been
severed."

Daren looked up at her for a moment without blinking, and then said, "How
long have I been here, like this?"

"You were unconscious for some time I'm afraid, almost two weeks."

"Then I am led to assume that the damage is irreparable. Were you
exhausting all possibilities before waking me up?"

Shaking her head Kimberly looked to Arrietty for a second and nodded,
turning back as the nurse left she continued in a more confident tone. "No
Sir, you were in a coma for a while, I only used sedatives for the last few
days while we ran some tests. Under normal circumstances the damage would
be irreparable, but I wasn't ready to give up that easily Sir. I do have
something to discuss with you, a possibility I've been working on the last
couple of weeks, but before I start someone else wanted to be here when you
woke up to discuss it with you as well."

Daren took that all in, blinked, and sighed. "Tell June to come in,
Doctor."

"She should be here in a..." Kimberly started as the door slid quietly open
behind her.

"Hello Dar," June said quietly.

"June," Daren began, only to stop as the slim figure of Shiarrael followed
June into the room. His eyes flickered through a series of emotions clearly
visible to Kimberly: recognition, surprise, shame, resignation, and finally
acceptance and uncertain affection. "Shiarrael," he added slowly, the name
apparently still new to him.

"Father," she returned coolly, her face a study in composure that only a
hint of emotion in her voice betrayed.

"Not the way that I wanted to greet you," Daren acknowledged. "But... I'm
glad that you're here nonetheless. It's good to finally meet you."

"And I you, Father," she replied, grasping the back of the chair that June
settled into after leaning over to kiss Daren.

Daren looked at her a moment longer, wistfully, obviously wanting to touch
her and make physical contact, before looking back over at Kimberly. "Well,
Doctor? Since you've got my family here," Kimberly noticed that Shiarrael
straightened up slightly at that, "so I won't refuse out of hand, what have
you got to tell me? An untried process of some kind?"

"Not exactly untried Sir." Hesitating a second she considered the speech
she had rehearsed for this moment and mentally revised it quickly before
launching into her explanation. For almost five minutes she spoke,
patiently explaining the background, the one successful procedure and the
lengthy steps she and the new Doctor aboard, Watson had taken to update and
revise the hazardous procedure. She'd spent so long now studying and
researching this that she felt she was giving answers in an oral test before
the actual practical exam.

It was making her nervous.

The one thing she didn't do was sugar coat any part of it. She detailed the
hazards and the possible after effects of mis-aligned nerves, though that
was offset by the reassurance that his autonomic functions were the one
aspect of the whole procedure that had nearly complete confidence in.

"In short Sir," she summed up, "there's a high probability of a beneficial
outcome. I won't lie, there are hazards, the surgical transport could
damage nerves for instance. But the only other option is to transfer you to
a long term medical facility until they can come up with a better plan."

"And how likely is that?" Daren asked, taking his eyes off of June and
Shiarrael to meet Kimberly's.

"To be honest Sir, I don't know." Kimberly admitted frankly. "With the
work Gabrielle and I have put in on this procedure it might be next week, it
might be next year. There's considerable interest in the work we've done,
but none of the centres that specialise in this type of injury are prepared
to risk an untried procedure. If we transfer you though, you'll be
automatically relieved of duty on medical grounds due to the severity of
your injury." She didn't need to add that returning to active duty after
being relieved would require a hearing by the fleet chief medical officer,
and in the current political climate that could be a chancy proposition.

Not to mention that all it would take was a quiet word in the right ear and
an untested procedure could be stalled in hearings and review boards for as
long as possible. Not exactly a comforting thought.

Daren considered that, and then turned his gaze back to June and Shiarrael.
"I'd ask you what you think, June, but the fact that you're letting the
Doctor say all of this tells me what you think without it. I don't know you
well enough, Shiarrael, so... what do you think? Should we do this?"

The girl blinked, appearing surprised that her opinion was being solicited.
"What then will you do if I say that I do not agree, Father?" she asked.

"We won't do it," was Daren's simple answer.

That earned another look of surprise that was quickly wiped away. "Then..."
she paused, looked at June, and then Kimberly, and finally back to Daren.
"Then I say that you should be whole again, not condemned to this
half-death, or that you should be free of this life that you may find in the
next what has been lost in this one."

Daren smiled faintly. "Well, Doctor? How long will this take?"

"Assuming our last round of tests go well, we can be ready to go in a day or
two." Kimberly promised. Projecting what confidence she could muster she
smiled, "The actual procedure itself should take about six to eight hours.
If we get your go ahead and all goes well, a few days from now..." letting
her voice trail off for a second she thought for a moment about outcomes and
consequences.

"A few days from now, I expect you to be breathing on your own and
complaining that the bed's not comfortable." She ordered in her best
professional tone.

"Then do it," Daren said firmly. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my
life here with two women like this standing by the side of my bed - they
deserve better than that." He smiled slightly. "As a matter of fact, I'd
have said 'yes' even without them - but having them here made it easier."

"Thank you Sir." Grateful for the go-ahead she relaxed a notch, now, now
all that was left was to actually do this. "If you'll excuse me for a
moment then there are a few things I need to attend to. I'll be back in a
bit and I can give you a full walk through of what's involved, then I can
ask Commander Iniara to come down and brief you as well if you like."

Nodding politely she stepped quietly out of the room and left the Captain
and his family alone for a moment. They undoubtedly had things they wanted
to discuss, and she had much to do as well.

“Pre Op…”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant (J.G.) Gabrielle Watson – Medical Officer (APC - RobS)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ USS Galaxy ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sky was full of stars, each one hazy and indistinct, shimmering a dusky pink colour in the night sky. The air was full with a strange sound, like a low voice that hummed and moaned, wavering in and out of hearing. Looking around as a shadow fell across her she realised she was laying on the cold ground, it’s chill biting into her and numbing her into immobility.

“It’s time to wake up.” The shadow said as it stopped.

Twisting her neck to see the source of the voice and shadow she frowned, she wasn’t here, she couldn’t be…?

“Jenna?”

“Time to wake up patch, big day ahead. Lots to do.” Crouching down beside her the shadow smiled, “you never were a morning person.” She teased.

Patch. A nickname she’d not heard since the Academy, given her by Jenna because of her mismatched eyes. But Jenna couldn’t be here, not here. “Missed you,” she said with a smile to the ghost.

“Time to wake up.” Jenna repeated.

Rolling over with some effort Kimberly sat up and rubbed the heels of her hands around her eyes. Opening them after a second she looked around her quiet and dark room. She was alone, but the memory of the dream was still vivid in her mind. The spectre of her long dead friend still haunted her.

“See you soon Jenna.” She whispered to the darkness. Just a memory she reminded herself. Just a memory…

Untangling herself from the bed sheets she padded softly to the bathroom, casually discarding her long t-shirt untidily into a corner she set the sonic shower to a slightly higher pitch than normal and shuddered as its pulses woke her up with its usual efficiency. Normally she was a water shower person, but today she needed her wits about her from the start, her dream was right about her in that regard, she really wasn’t a morning person.

Yawning as she left the shower her next stop was the replicator for a strong cup of coffee. Sipping the hot brew she circled her room gathering clothes and PADDs she’d need for the day ahead. The dream was right in another regard, it was a big day, and there was lots to do. Assuming the overnight simulations and projections had gone as hoped, by this time tomorrow they should know if the Captain was going to be able to walk again.

~ Assuming all goes well. ~ She reminded herself.

Dropping her bundle of clothes in an untidy pile beside her dresser she picked up a brush and slowly worked it through her hair as she re-read the procedure once again, looking for anything she might have missed the first fifty times she had read it. “Computer, time.” She asked the empty room.

<=The time is oh five thirty two.=>

~ Too early! ~ She bitched silently. Way too early for someone who was most ‘definitely’ not a morning person. There should only be one five thirty, and that was PM! She decided.

Setting the brush down after several relaxing moments she dressed quietly, her mind on neurocortical scanners, nerve bundles, regenerative techniques, peptide nanofibres, medical transporters and the all important genetronic replicator. Everything hinged on that one piece of technology, without it they could do nothing; with it they could perform a miracle.

~ Assuming all goes well. ~

“Computer, is Doctor Watson online?”

<=Affirmative=>

“Burton to Watson.”

<Watson here.> The hologram replied immediately, sounding far to alert and awake for this ungodly hour of the day. <I wasn’t expecting you to be awake for several more hours Doctor. You only went to sleep around twenty three hundred.>

“I’ve slept enough, how about you, did you get some down time?”

<Yes, sufficient thank you. I’m in the lab at the moment analysing the overnight simulations, would you care to join me? The results are promising.>

“Right after some breakfast,” Kimberly said after a mouthful of coffee, “I’ll be in ten-fore for a bit, I’ll join you shortly. Can you download the results to my PADD please; I’ll review them while I eat.”

<Downloading now. See you in a while. Watson out.>

~ Not really one for small talk is she. ~ Kimberly mused as she watched her PADD accept several files. Tugging her boots on she tied her hair back and walked out, her attention now on the files she’d received. At first glance Watson was right, they looked promising. Navigating the corridors and turbolifts almost on autopilot she slowly drained the last of her coffee as she walked and read, her attention focussed solely on her PADD and the data therein.

Goddess I’m nervous. She admitted to herself in the solitude of a turbolift. It wasn’t just the prospect of the procedure, that was daunting enough, any new procedure carried risks and uncertainties. But this was the Captain, to fail would be a blow of monumental proportions, and the repercussions of failure would be devastating, not only to the Captain certainly and his family, but the crew as a whole. And to her.

~ No pressure. ~ She reminded herself yet again. It was getting to be her daily refrain, repeated at least once or twice a shift.

Somewhere between the transporter simulation results and the protein bath notations there was a vague recollection of breakfast, a faint aftertaste of toast and more coffee. One of those meals that passed by without any solid recollection. There had been food, there was a fresh coffee to prove she’d stopped somewhere, but her mind was so intent on her PADD she had simply paid it no serious attention. Add to that twenty minutes had gone by.

Entering the holodeck she had co-opted for the duration Kimberly found Watson hunched over a medical scanner. If it had been anyone else she’d have warned them about bad posture and muscle strain, but here was one Doctor who needed that particular lecture about as much as Kimberly needed a hole in the head.

“Morning Gabrielle,” she greeted the hologram as cheerfully as she could.

Turning to face the CMO Watson studied her for a moment, to her highly accurate optical sensors Burton appeared a little tired, the false cheerfulness in her voice was obviously an attempt to conceal her rising nervousness regarding the upcoming procedure, and understandably so. Had she still been a standard EMH she would have had multiple subroutine conflicts right about now regarding the procedure, and though that wasn’t a problem she had, she did have concerns, but she could mask them better. The advantage of being in total control of your appearance and voice.

“Good morning Kimberly,” she replied, her analysis of the CMO having taken only a split second. “Have you read the results?”

“Yeah, and you’re right, they look good. Though I’m still worried about the transcription error ratio. It’s still higher that I’d like.” Perching on the desk beside Watson Kimberly angled her PADD so they could both see it. The reattachment of all the nerves wasn’t the problem; it was the ‘correct’ reattachment of all the nerves. They had devised various scenarios and options to combat the problem, but no matter how they went about it, the best they had managed was a probable ninety nine point five four accuracy. Some would say that alone was an impressive feat, and an incredible rate of accuracy, but when you were talking over one and a half ‘Billion’ nerves, point four six percent was a ‘lot’ of misaligned nerves.

“The clone simulation has given us good data, but even that has its limits.” Gabrielle admitted, “even if we actually cloned the Captain, there would still be variations.” Shrugging she indicated the hologram of the Captain that lay on a nearby bed. “Theoretically we should be able to guarantee accuracy of the autonomic systems, that alone is a massive improvement on his current condition.”

Nodding Kimberly had to agree, once the autonomic functions were restored then anything else that was misaligned could be dealt with by follow up surgery or longer term therapy. There comes a point though she realised when you have to say to hell with it, that’s as good as it’s going to get.

~ I’d prefer to do the job right the first time though! ~ The perfectionist inside her griped.

Switching off the medical scanner Gabrielle looked pointedly at Kimberly, “I believe we’ve reached the point of diminishing returns,” she suggested bluntly. “We could spend from now to eternity polishing the procedure with only insignificant improvements. We have an impressively high accuracy potential, and the odds of a successful procedure, or at least one where the Captain can survive it are in the high eighties. Far better than when we started.” She remembered this look on the faces of other Doctors, forced to try something new they agonised over the details, and if left to it, would continue to do so. “You’re the CMO, we do this on your order of course, but I don’t see any benefit in postponing this any further.”

Scanning her PADD again Kimberly looked over the simulations one more time. They had practised this procedure now so many times it seemed all she had been doing lately is replicating spinal cords. After a moments silence, broken only by her sipping her coffee she nodded finally. “Transfer all the equipment settings and data to main sickbay. Head up there and get Arrietty to prep surgical bay one. Do a full physical on the Captain, if everything is okay then schedule pre-op meds for twelve hundred. Assuming everything checks out ok, we start at thirteen hundred.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Tapping a series of controls Gabrielle downloaded herself and her data to sickbay, and in the space of a few seconds Kimberly found herself alone in the holodeck.

Pausing by the arch at the exit Kimberly saved and closed the program. As she watched the hologram fade she let out the breath she was holding slowly.

~ This is going to work! ~ She assured herself.

"Sound and Fury, Part I"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil - Chief Counselor
Lt. Cmdr Th'Khiss K'aa - Prisoner, former Chief of Operations

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

"Oh please...no more mushrooms...."

Dropping his head to his desk, the counselor almost begged the
PADD-laden Vulcan biologist who'd arrived at his office for the fifth
time in two days. Since turning over the beginnings of his research
into the one clear mental image he got when interrogating K'aa, or
whoever it was, he was beginning to wish he'd never gotten himself
mixed up in the whole mess.

"Commander," the Vulcan unmercifully persisted, "there are at least,
by my count, eight thousand, two hundred thirty-seven mushrooms and
mushroom-related species in the Federation biology database that fit
the description you provided. If you cannot be precise, you must at
least be thorough."

"Can I be close, Ensign? You know, in the ballpark?"

"With all due respect, Sir, this is science, not a game," she
dutifully reminded him.

"Exactly!" he emphasized, as he sprung from his chair to seize the
opportunity. Rounding his desk, he took the somewhat perplexed young
woman by the arm and began leading her back to the doorway. "It's
science. Biology. I'm just a telepathic counselor. I can only tell
you what I saw and make some general assumptions -- you know,
something edible, something that at least it was possible for K'aa to
come across, blah, blah, blah -- but I need your expertise to narrow
down the possibilities. I really can't," he paused for a moment,
shaking his head with a chuckle, "and really, really, don't want, to
comb through over eight thousand species of mushrooms and give my
personal yea or nay to each one."

"Eight thousand, two hundred, thirty-"

"Thirty-seven, yes, I heard you, ensign. Now use some scientific
hypotheses and good old-fashioned Vulcan logic and come back when
you've narrowed it down to a solid hundred or so. Maybe I can work
with that." Then he shoved her out the door and with great relief let
it slide closed behind her. It had occurred to Brian that had he not
gone back on the medication Kimberly had prescribed he'd probably have
slapped her a couple times just for the hell of it. Even with the
medication it was a tempting thought.

He took a moment to exhale, then returned to his seat behind his desk.
Despite everything that had been going on for him personally and
counselor's mind. It had become something of a personal quest for him
to figure out just who or what he'd seen attack the captain and half
the bridge crew and then spoken with personally in a holding cell only
maybe an hour later. Yet while he'd followed up on all the angles he
could think of, he was beginning to think he'd hit a wall. There
simply weren't that many sources with in-depth first-hand knowledge of
the reptilian officer, and the image of a mushroom could only tell you
so much. Drumming his fingers on his desk while he stared some more
at the display on the terminal in front of him, he decided it was time
to return to the source. Perhaps isolation had loosened their captive
some.

As he stood to head down to the brig, Brian even considered sending
the Vulcan biologist down to talk with K'aa for a few hours. That'd
be enough to make anyone talk.

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

When Brian entered the brig he found the duty officer at attention,
but was surprised that the lights in K'aa's cells had been dimmed at
the prisoner's request. In the shadow, he could see the Gorn's
noticeably thinner frame sitting on the cell's cot hunched over an
antique, thickly bound book. The reptilian swayed as he read, a
repetitive rocking motion that caused the fasteners of the small bed
to creak but not loud enough to drown out the traitor's hissing
whisper.

"Thessse vertebratesss, asss well asss an infinity of other life
formsss -- animal and vegetable, marine, terressstrial, and aërial --
were the productsss of unguided evolution acting on life-cells made by
the Old Onesss.... hmmmm... but essscaping beyond their radiusss of
attention. They had been sssuffered to develop unchecked becaussse
they had not come in conflict with the dominant beingsss. Bothersssome
formsss, of courssse, were mechanically exterminated. It interested
usss to see in some of the very lassst and mossst decadent
sculpturesss a shambling, primitive mammal, used sometimesss for food
and sometimesss as an amusing buffoon by the land dwellers, whose
vaguely simian and human foreshadowingsss were... unmissstakable."

The counselor discretely observed his subject, intrigued by this
latest pursuit. Was it research of some sort? An academic exercise
to help keep his mind sharp despite the obvious lessening of his
physique? He'd have suspected spiritual reading, but of all possible
activities that was probably the most incongruent with what he'd
learned of the reptilian's character.

"Reflecting on the origins of life?" Brian finally asked in a quieter
than normal voice.

The sound of Brian's voice jolted the Gorn from his reading like a
Klingon pain-stick, and the reptilian sprang to his feet quickly. In
the semi-darkness he stood shakily, and drew deep lung-fulls of the
cell's chilled air as he looked at the Chief Counselor as if for the
first time. Recognition came slowly, and when it did he settled back
down noisily onto the cell's cot. "Merely that of your monkey
friendssss, Commander", he hissed. "Their own reflectionsss on how
they came down from the treessss in their recent passst. What
bringsss you here? More gloating?"

"Is that what you think I've been doing?" Elessidil asked as he moved
slowly along the cell's perimeter. "Seems you were the one waxing
triumphant last time I was here." He shook his head. "No, far too
many things have gone badly recently as far as I'm concerned and
little has been gained. Not the time for gloating from my
perspective." Then he paused, studying the Gorn for a moment,
wondering what really lay beneath the exotic but familiar green hide.
His telepathic sense was already at work, but he wanted to do more
than simply examine him like some specimen. He wanted to know who he
was dealing with, in the way a good counselor got to know a patient,
minus perhaps some of the more usual efforts to establish comfort.
"Tell me...Mister K'aa...if you weren't here right now in this cell,
where would you be? What would you be doing?"

"Dancing on your gravesss", the reptilian hissed with a toothy sneer.
"Asss it should have been after the battle. The Galaxy and her
Captain were underessstimated. It will not happen again." The Gorn's
mind put forth bloody, sickening images of what his fangs and claws
could do to a biped, but other memories bled into the traitor's
mindscape. Beautiful jewel-like cities of cobalt blue, shining under
dim rays of a red-giant star. Boiling seas lapping violently against
an alien, melting shore. And mushrooms, hundreds if various images -
mushroom stew, thick mushroom steaks as thick as a man's arm, and
salads made of at least a dozen delicate and mouthwatering fungi.

In the midst of the images of carnage, mushrooms again. And this
time, more of them. Though Brian had had his fill of the subject,
there was obviously a lot more information here to use, and not just
concerning mushrooms. He'd have to communicate this to Ensign T'Vor.

"No, I'm sure it won't. Nor are we likely to underestimate you," he
stated flatly as he focused away from as much of the disturbing
imagery as he could, considering what really seemed to appeal to the
Gorn's appetite at the moment. "We're all aware of Gorns' carnivorous
nature, but maybe there's more we could do to help you feel
more...comfortable...while you're here. Maybe we could supplement
your diet a little with, oh I don't know, some exotic mushrooms?" He
eyed K'aa with a steely gaze. "Then maybe we could have a pleasant
chat about what you were up to between your assignments to the Miranda
and Starbase Atlantis."

"Mushroomssssss?" The word hung on K'aa's tongue longer than his
usual syllabous way of speaking, and for a moment his large globular
eyes seemed to glaze over. "Hrrrrmmmm... what do you take me for
Counssseilor? Sssome form of leaf-eater?" The large reptilian
clamped his globular eyes shut and twitched his head as if to
forceably clear his mind. "I can guarantee you'd not asssk that
quessstion were we on the sssame ssside of the sssecurity field,
Betazoid!"

"Fortunately we won't need to test that theory, but there are some
others I'd be interested in taking a closer look at. Like the one
that's been hanging in my mind since last time we spoke, that Gorn
don't generally include mushrooms in their diet. Or the one that's
I've heard from more than one source that you haven't quite been the
same since you left the Miranda." Without realizing it, Brian had
begun pacing a little, his speech becoming just a little more
animated. "What about those missing months, Mister K'aa? Can't find
anything in your Starfleet records that substantiate your whereabouts
during that time, nor did I find anything particularly enlightening in
your personal logs; which, by the way, contained nothing to suggested
the level of disdain for humanoids that you've so clearly demonstrated
of late. So let's explore *this* theory: you're not who are what you
claim to be!"

The security field buzzed as the Gorn made a slight charge in Brian's
direction. He backed up a pace or two, then gave a deep, spluttering
hiss that reminded the Chief Counselor of high-pressure steam escaping
broken iron pipes. K'aa was laughing uncontrollably, and it took the
prisoner several minutes to recover. "Ah.... hrsss... heh...
Counssselor... forgive the expression... but you're killing me. You
should ssspend more time with my friendsss Jaal or Chrissss - or
anyone from the Miranda. Nobody would *chooossse* to be me other than
myssself. You'll agree that my record in the fleet issss... unique,
even among the other four Gorn ssserving."

Brian looked him squarely in the eye, unflinching. He still had no
*proof* that what he was suggesting was anything more than his own
personal hunch, but that wasn't going to stop him just yet. After
all, there was more to be said for Betazoid intuition than most
others'. Even Jaal had suggested that this might be a clone, and
while Brian was reasonably certain that wasn't the case, that didn't
make whoever or whatever it was standing before him the real K'aa.

"I agree that LIeutenant Commander K'aa's record is unique...I did not
say you were him."

Just then, his com badge chirped followed by a familiar voice.

=^=T'vor to Counselor Elessidil.=^=

"Go ahead, Ensign."

=^=I have succeeded in narrowing the list of subjects for your review
to two hundred twenty-three. I am afraid it is the best I can do. =^=

"I'll take that," he replied, his eyes not leaving K'aa. Then he
smirked only slightly. "Ensign, take the resulting list and
cross-check it against species that are native to planets orbiting red
giants and populated with numerous other native mushroom species."

=^=Understood, Sir. T'vor out, =^= she obliged obediently.

Elessidil's gaze remained steady and his keen Betazoid senses sharp.
He spoke unlike a ship's counselor and more like a persistent force to
be reckoned with. "It may take awhile, but I'm getting closer and you
know it," he said to K'aa. "Your own thoughts have betrayed you this
far and a little more research will only cast you in an even more
suspicious light, I suspect."

"You may find what you ssseek Commander...", K'aa drawled with a gleam
of extra fang. "But mere truth may not neccessssarily provide
wisssdom. The fact you may learn will change *nothing* of what hasss
happened in the lassst year, and changesss *nothing* of what will
happen to your people. Learning of the inevitable doessssn't grant
the power to prevent it." The Gorn shrugged his broad shoulders and
settled onto the cot once more. "If thisss isss how you choossse to
spend your final dayssss... who am I to sssstop you?"

Creation to doomsday. What was going on here, Brian wondered. Was
whoever or whatever was sitting in this cell just one part of
something much larger? And what did it have to do with K'aa or the
captain?

"What Lies Within: Part 3"

Sonia An'quinsos
Adrian An'quinsos
Various NPC's

*USS Stormwarden: Adrian's Quarters*

"It was the dawning of the Second Age of the El-Aurian Empire and the
first wave of ships journeyed from our Homeworld to explore the
Galaxy. In this time we had drawn attention to ourselves from a
terrible, unknown race we named Nosfere Pele' Mo'Secari. So malevolent
were they and their appetite so great, that entire worlds were
rendered devoid of life in their unending quest to satisfy their
hunger. Breaching our defenses, they swarmed out system and found an
abundance of life beyond avarice. In the night they attacked from the
shadows, preying upon the weak and the innocent. Their Lord, not be
satisfied until all our people were subjugated decided to make an
example and murdered the Empress Amnoni as she slept. Little did he
realize that this act would be his downfall… come in."

"Catching up on a bit of light reading I see." She noted the padd
before finally taking in her surroundings. "And they put you in your
old quarters."

"Yes, not much has changed since I left." He glanced around
thoughtfully. "This however is records Jaina downloaded from Betazed
nearly a decade ago when the USS Galaxy encountered the Sanguinarians.
There's a lot of hidden meaning within these texts. In one instance
Pen Shoza speaks of an invasion and in another there are other lines
indicating a war taking place, but not the kind that are usually
waged. It's sort of like taking chess pieces and moving them carefully
across the board if you will. Inevitably he says the Nosfere were met
with an incalculable force ending a war that lasted a thousand years."

"What?" She frowned considerably taking the padd from him and
re-reading everything for herself. "That's the biggest mistranslation
I've ever seen- some idiot's confused Old Common for Old High.
Ald'kyshar is one hundred years in Old Common, meanwhile Alt'keshyr is
one hundred in Old High. With battles being fought, even on home soil,
I would imagine that's what took so long to build those ships. Ezmion
used anything and everything to divert the enemy's attention from the
real threat; the training he underwent with the monks must've been the
one thing that kept him from going mad after the loss of his wife."

"Well, according to the epilogue neither race would be quite the same
afterwards. Ezmion decreed that if any of these 'Demons of Unending
Nightmare' should return, they must be stopped even to the cost of
their life. The old name would be replaced in time… Bal-Shiroc form
what I remember." He gazed back at his sister sitting before him in
full, Starfleet Regalia. "I understand the design, but exactly was the
Imperiatrix Protocols?"

"When El-Auria began to explore the 'local neighborhood,' they
realized that there would come a time when the Homeworld would need to
be defended. By our nature we are Listeners and through that we are
Explorers; we've never conquered, invaded, enslaved, or wiped out
another race. The Empire was created though terraforming and
colonizing dead worlds. Therefore as we scattered, plans were drawn up
long before Ezmion came into power for ways to provide the ultimate
defense to protect our Homeworld from any lethal threat. The
Dreadnought Stratagem was drawn up and amended continuously as time
passed."

"A pity it wasn't in place when the Borg came onto the galactic scene.
They would certainly dwarf a cube with little trouble." He frowned.
"Though with what you described back on Deep Space Five, it was
probably locked away in the Planetary Archives to be forgotten. So,
what can we expect from this ship? Same stuff we encountered from the
last one?"

"Schematics wise, we are looking at similar designs, but as to what's
within is the big mystery."Her hands came together in a contemplative
fashion. "In his reports Captain Strider noted that attempts to scan
the interior were scattered. Only the exterior could be scanned; a
hull analysis was done tracing its origins and they found what looked
to be a series of large and small cannons, along with possible arrays
dotting the ship. There's not a scratch on her, short of a few minor
asteroids colliding with the ship. Near as they can tell the ship's
been sitting there for a long time. It's possible that during the
battle it got redirected on an assignment to the Alpha Quadrant. Who
knows," She shrugged. "Maybe the war spilled out into the other
places. We'll know more once we're inside."

"You still haven't told me one thing…"

"Oh?"

"Strider…" Adrian looked a little hard at his sister. "Being that this
is one of your ships- as you say- I know you read the report
concerning our encounter with the Vorenedians and a few things which a
certain Captain failed to adhere to. It took-"

"Yes, I'm well- aware-"

"And you allow him to Captain this ship?" Were he any other person
this might have been shouted. However, Adrian unless you count that
one occasion during a meteor storm, he wasn't a shouter. "Is there
something I'm missing Sonriell?"

"He was offered the commission to Captain the Stormwarden due to
certain admirable tactical gifts. He's creative, unorthodox; doesn't
really go by the book as he does think on his feet. You see one
solution and he sees three, you see a dogfight and he sees patterns
within chaos, and knows how to manipulate them. Everyone has their
days, even you and I, Aud'rhian." She sighed softly. "It's the way of
things. So, where's Maxim?"

*Holodeck 2*

"We're not going Skydiving are we?"

"Of course not Mister Reid!" He proclaimed as they stepped into the
room. "My dad said there was a cool program he wanted me to see, said
he hadn't even had a chance to download it to the Galaxy." He
scratched his head for a moment. "Computer, run An'quinsos-Aqi-one."

The scene slowly shifted form an inside to an outside perspective.
Before them was a seemingly vast, silver sanded desert that stretched
infinitely into the eastern horizon. Forged by the conditions around
them, mesas scattered the southern landscape; dark grey monoliths they
towered before their observers like watchmen in this landscape. To the
north were the Plateaus; unlike their little brothers, area of these
vast giants glittered with the same color as this desert, with banded
striations of green, red, yellow, and purple. And to the southwest,
snow-capped mountains stood majestically in the distance, with bare
areas appearing similar, though hold more of a crystalline appearance
to their surface. One might understandably believed it too dark for
anyone to have seen colors. However there were three things working in
tangent to make this happen.

In the foreground overhead, a cascade of reds, oranges, greens, blues,
purples, and strands of white filled the night sky. Maxim looked up
and smiled thoughtfully; his mother used to tell him stories about
aurora-lit nights and places like this one that sand unforgettable
songs like this one. In some areas, the lines appeared stationary,
shifting only in color. In other areas, both colors and patterns
snaked across the sky in arcs both narrow and wide vanishing towards
the horizon. The pattern only slightly dimmed the brilliant star
fields twinkling spectacularly in the background. Much of that glow
was particularly concentrated in a large band of the Milky that took
up the western portion of the sky. The diffuse glow itself appeared
soft and unchanging. However, it and to an extent, the aurora was
dimmed by three silvery orbs over head; the closest one was a
crescent, the second one half full and the third in gibbous phase.

"This is very beautiful Maxim." The older voice finally spoke up
taking it all in. "I'll have to look this place up when we get back to
Deep Space Five."

"My mom and dad called it the… Aqi Injinni Re, translated as the Sea
of the Sun's Birth. As for looking it up, you won't find it on any
map." Those bright blue eyes settled on him for a moment, then looked
toward the east as dawn was beginning to approach. "And it's only just
beginning."

The Milky Way in its entire, brilliant diffuseness began to vanish
along with the night. The brilliant, intense auroras, with their
otherworldly glow likewise faded into the beginning dawn. Finally the
moons with their gentle radiance coating the landscape began to dim in
the presence of a far brighter orb brighter orb. Finally they were
surrounded by a deep, pinkish glow of antitwilight, separated from the
horizon by the planet's shadow. The backscattering of reddened light
grew more intense, as the sky gradually became increasingly brighter
and brighter until… the time came…

The first rays of the planet's parent star streamed down from the
heavens and made contact with the fine, silvery powder all around them
ending the dawn. Within that moment, a soft musical sound began to
rise up, not unlike a perfectly tuned violin. This musical solo
caressed their ears in a gentle timbre that was soon became a duet,
then a trio, a quartet, quintet, octet, and finally a resounding
symphony of sound. The music began to progress, slowly entering a
series of varying crescendo as the concerto took hold over the
landscape. Then the Symphony of sand and light grew more intense with
other 'instruments' joining in and forming an intricate harmony amidst
an awing melody. The pair intertwined into a brilliant score that
reach its zenith under the full morning sun. Then, the concerto began
to die away slowly, the instruments entering a long, drawn out
decrescendo until that lone violin remained. And then, it too faded
into the daybreak.

"Wow…"

Usually a many of many words the security officer had no words for
this. Yet, as he was about to say something, his ears caught sound of
a faint whine, a sound he recognized instantly after being on the
phasers ranges for hours trying to improve his aim. He suddenly
grabbed Maxim and went into a roll as a as a phaser blast missed them
by a hair. His own phaser came out in one swift motion and fired a
volley of its own. A little shaken, the young El-Aurian started to
calm down when he realized what was going on and also what else could
happen.

"Computer, end simulation."

The fine, silvery powder vanished for the solid (all-too-real) floors
of the Holodeck and shooters from different angles appeared. Covering
Maxim he tried to compensate by firing at something in the holodeck
that would give an idea that an emergency situation was taking place.
Unfortunately, that blast didn't do anything of the sort, leaving him
caught off guard for a second, and giving his attackers time to fire,
and hitting him from two angles. Unconscious and limp, Maxim slid out
from under him and tried to run only to be caught by a phaser blast.
He fell, tumbling to the ground and unconscious. The figures gathered
the unconscious bodies together and beamed out of the Holodeck,
leaving nothing to suggest anyone was ever in there…

*Bridge*

The moment the Stormwarden dropped out of warp, the El-Aurians were
already in the turbolift. They exited in time to see the ship pass by
a supergiant on its way the location in question. They separated,
converging at the Captain's chair to watch what was going on with
great attention. As if on cue, the Captain looked up, arose from his
seat and gave it to her; not surprisingly she took it, monitoring
things even more closely than before. For a brief moment she saw
herself back on the USS Gage, memories flooding to the surface of that
experience. She quickly dispersed of them and began to issue orders.

"Maintain a yellow alert; make sure shields and weapons are at the
ready in case something happens, and by something I mean the Triad. If
a cometary fragment so much as twitches a micron out of place. If that
binary couple decides they need a divorce I wanna see the papers.
Lastly, if there's anything out of place inside or outside of this
ship, then let me know. Also if the science department would be
gracious and put together a full report on this system in roughly… two
hours, I would be most pleased."

Anyone else might have thought there was a hint of paranoia in what
she was asking, and for that matter any other thing she might ask.
However, they were in the middle of a war; if he knew his sister, like
he thought he did, she'd want to use this star system to its maximum
potential if a confrontation ever took place. Moreover this wasn't a
well-known section fo space and it was also likely that there was some
other race that had claimed it, and potentially hostile. As far as she
was concerned you had to prepare for as many things as possible;
chances were that Murphy's Law was going to come into effect when you
least expected. Adrian had to smile a little as she finished; she
didn't just say she would be pleased, she said she would be most
pleased. It sounded like her to say that; they probably had the
groundwork for a report laid out- at least that was his thoughts-
therefore preparing a full report wouldn't be too difficult.

"We're coming up on the ship."

"Slow to one quarter impulse and put her on screen." She stated and
slowly rose from the chair.

Amidst the asteroids was a vast structure. Even without magnification,
once could get an idea of its design. As with the one she saw over a
century ago it looked sleek, elegant, and despite the dull grey of the
hull, fierce. From their position, one side was lit up and the other
wreathed in a thick shadow cast from the ancient vessel. Adrian began
to walk closer to the screen until he was within a few feet, memories
resurfacing about the last time; images of the nebula flashes into his
mind as did those things aboard the ship. He returned back to the
chair, face full of reflection and concern. His sister on the other
hand was doing other things…

"Sensors are still being reflected off the hull ma'am." The younger
officer pulled up the scans. "We're able to do basic scans of the
external areas, but nothing internally.

"Wow…" One of the other officers commented as the sensor reading
passed by him. "What exactly could a ship like that do anyways?"

The woman muttered something off handedly, something that only those
closest enough could hear. The young ensign running the scans went
pale as another officer did a double take. "The effect is coming from
an internal Dampening Field. So, what would happen if we tried to
match out resonance frequency with the field, or better yet deactivate
it temporarily?"

The Ensign stood up, giving her console to the older woman. The
six-foot-four El-Aurian took a seat, familiarized herself with the
console, and began to set to work. After several seconds a series of
alphanumeric characters began to appear. They looked El-Aurian in
design- if anyone there had studied the language- but much to
outdated. The characters moved in a vertical formation, with others a
various diagonals. Finishing this format, they streamed across the
console in a series of pictographic-cubes, with each face etched in
either a letter or number that was spinning. As her hands moved
carefully across the console, one by one the cubes would stop spinning
until half the console was filled with motionless cubes. The console
chirped and the Admiral muttered 'alignment complete' and continued
working. She moved through each cube as fast as her eyes would allow
her to until finally all of them had been cracked, which initiated
another chirp from the console.

"Dampening deactivated… sensors are… working." She smiled, and removed
what was on the screen. "Ensign I believe this is yours and I will be
in my quarters. I've some things that need preparing. Maintain
stationary orbit with that ship." She looked to Strider. "You have the
bridge."

Deep within that ship there was a stirring as eyes opened, their sleep
disturbed by the mechanism that had awoken them. It would soon be time
for battle and they were ready…

Best Destiny

With the slight buzzing of electronics, Allison von Ernst slipped the amp cable into the back of her purple glitter Ibanez guitar.

Meanwhile across the galaxy, Rebecca von Ernst strode onto the bridge of the USS Zeus accompanied by the soft hissing of the turbolift doors.

Taking a small sip of her Diet Fizzy, Allison tweaked the knobs a bit, adding in a bit of Treble and boosting the Distortion.
Rebecca settled into her command chair, sipped her Peppermint Milkshake, and adjusted the focus on the 12 mathematical repeater screen before her.

"Does this sound in tune?" Alli asked Mary. The Silicon based horta had turned out to be a perfect sound template.

"We ready to go?" Rebecca asked Fear and Panic, her ever ready assistants.

"Bit sharp on the high end dearie." said Mary. "Nothing humans could detect though."
"Warp Nacelle #3 is running a bit hot," replied Panic. "Nothing to worry about though."

Nodding, Allison made a few test strums, tweaking here and there and running through a quick blues scale....her fingers flashing.

Nodding, Rebecca turned over the initial combat estimates in her mind, tweaking here and there.....her mind flashing through the numbers.

"Ready?" asked the daughter.
"We ready?" asked the mother.

In a flash of aluminum fingernails under neon lights, Allison launched herself into the intro riff. Power chords building steadily under her fingers.

In a flash of Cherenkov radiation, USS Zeus broke out of warp space in the midst of the Hydran Flotilla, weapons charges building power ominously as they struggled to react.

The opening chorus wailed to life, high pitched guitar riffs echoing off the walls.

Opening exchanges of Photos and Hellbores screamed to life. Flashing lights echoing in the darkness.

Changing fingerings with a snarl, Allison took the musical piece a different direction from where the composer intended.....putting her own original spin on the composition.

Altering course with a wrinkle of her freckled nose, Rebecca bent the Zeus into shapes the designers never intended. Her unpredictable tactics confounding the Hydrans.

A blast of noise and the roar of a guttural sustain......

A blast of decompressing hulls and a scream of spaced crewmen......

Allison in her element.
Rebecca in her element.

Her soul singing....
Her soul screaming....

Allison tore into the chorus, her fingers a blur up and down the guitar neck, making it wail.
Zeus tore into the Hydran flotilla, shattering their hulls and causing her crew to wail.

It was so simple....the music in her heart.

It was so simple....the math in her head.

Perfection.

Perfection.

Music of life.

Symphony of Death.

Allison created, music in her fingers giving life.

Rebecca destroyed, the Math in her head taking life.

The Music.

The Math.

The music lived.
The Hydrans died.

The daughter tore into the finale, the music building to an incredible crescendo of sound and movement.
The mother tore into the climax of the battle, building to an incredible carnage of phaserlight and photon blasts.

Joy.

Despair.

A final reverberating powerchord hanging still in the air marked the end of the song.

A final volley of quantum torpedos raced across the vacuum, marking the end of the last cruiser.

~~Dang....I'll have to fix that guitar string. Oh well easily replaced~~~
~~~Noodles....multiple casualties and I'll have to put in to spacedock again….Oh well, people are easily replaced~~~

Daughter.

Mother.

Allison.
Rebecca.

Bright hopes for a music filled future.
Dark despairs for a life of killing.



~~Zarky...I've gotten pretty darn good at this.~~

~~Dear God what have I become?~~

"Pass It On"

featuring three admirals and one flunkie:
Admiral William Valerian, Commanding Officer, 10th Fleet
Admiral Taela Shanthi, Commanding Officer, 5th Fleet
Rear Admiral Odetta Pearle, Second Officer, 10th Fleet
Lieutenant Carson Venetti, Starfleet Bureau of Personnel

*****
Pearle and Valerian, 1057 hours

The two admirals made an interesting pair as they strode through the
hallways of Starfleet Command. William Valerian, tall and thin with
dark brown, slightly wavy hair and a complexion that was more pale
than tan, stood at least a head taller than his companion, a woman
with radiant coffee-colored skin, stick straight shoulder length hair
that was now more white than black, and ample curves in all the right
places. So then, it wasn't that unexpected when, as the pair made
their way towards their destination, at least one of them got as many
appreciative, almost flirtatious looks as they did respectful nods.

Odetta Pearle may have been pushing 70 years of age, but it seemed she
still 'had it'.

"You were saying?" Admiral Valerian asked in a clipped tone as the
pair rounded a corner, a trio of gold-collared lieutenants stepping
hurriedly out of their way.

"I don't think she can handle it," Pearle replied. Despite her
shorter stature, she was having little trouble keeping up with her
boss. That was probably one of the reasons he had chosen her for this
position.

"Interesting. Why the change of heart?"

Pearle shrugged, even though Valerian wasn't likely to see it. "Gut
instinct. She's inexperienced. Maybe she'd be fine on a patrol ship,
somewhere near the core worlds, where a slip up wouldn't cost us so
much. But on the front lines, facing Triad threats every day? I just
don't know."

"Right. Any news on M'Kantu?"

"Not good. Worst case scenario, the surgery kills him. Best case
scenario, he survives, but is in for months of therapy and
rehabilitation. And in between, maybe he survives, but he spends the
rest of his life quadriplegic." She paused briefly, then added, "Who
knows if he'll ever stand again, much less command a starship."

Valerian's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered his options.
A long moment passed between them, and then he stopped suddenly in
his tracks, his second officer nearly running into him in the process.
"Very well then," he said, looking down at her, cool grey eyes meeting
warm, inviting brown. "Make the call."

"Aye, sir." Valerian nodded once at her reply, then turned and headed
off down the hall. Pearle watched him until he faded into the crowd,
then turned the opposite way and headed back to her office.

*****
Venetti and Pearle, 1232 hours

"So, you're in need of a new captain," Carson Venetti drawled
disinterestedly, half-slumped in his chair, twiddling a padd stylus
idly in one hand.

"Yes, Lieutenant. That is why I contacted the Bureau of Personnel."
Pearle did her best not to frown at the man, in the back of her mind
wondering just how such apparent slackers got such high ranks.
Really, was it too much to ask that Starfleet employ only the best and
brightest? And just how had this man made it out of the Academy, much
less to a second pip, with such a lackluster attitude?

"So now we're Captains 'R' Us, hmmmm?" he drawled, giving her a lopsided grin.

This time Admiral Pearle let the frown come. Was he drinking on the
job or something? Or maybe he was just very slow. Whatever. "That
is why they call your organization the 'Bureau of Personnel', is it
not? When personnel vacancies need to be filled, it is your job to
fill them."

Venetti sighed briefly and pushed himself back into a more or less
upright position. Maybe if he gave her what she wanted, she would go
away. "Yes, ma'am, that would be us. So you need a captain. Let me
see what I can find. I'll forward you a list of candidates."

Finally, some progress. "Thank you, Commander. Pearle out."

"No, thank you," Venetti responded as the feed winked out. Then,
reaching for a crystal tumbler next to his terminal he knocked back
the rest of the bourbon (real bourbon, not that fake synthehol crap),
and added in a quieter voice, "Ugh. Admirals."

*****
Pearle and Valerian, 1803 hours

Admiral Pearle slid into one of Valerian's guest chairs, a padd held
in her hands. A moment later, he looked up from whatever was on his
screen, saw the padd, and said, "I take it that's the short list."

"It is." Leaning forward, Pearle handed him the padd, then added, "It
took a few hours to get it, but BuPers sent along a list of thirteen
possible candidates. As expected, they were all more than qualified
for the position. I've narrowed the list down to six names."

"Alright." Valerian flipped the padd around, relaxing slightly as he
skimmed its contents. Two Vulcans, two humans, an Andorian and an
El-Aurian, he noted. "I'll review the files this evening; we'll talk
more in the morning. Right now, I have a banquet to get ready for. I
have a feeling they're going to give me another award."

Pearle smiled slightly as she stood. "In that case, I'll leave you to
it. Until tomorrow, then."

"Have a nice evening, 'Detta," Valerian said, his attention already
half on something else.

"You too, sir."

*****
Shanthi and Valerian, 1145 hours the next day

A quiet beeping from his LCARS console brought Admiral Valerian out of
his thoughts. If he guessed correctly, this would be...

"Ahh, of course," he mumbled as the incoming call information popped
up on his screen. He tapped the screen, completing the link.
"Admiral Shanthi, so good to--"

"You can't have her," the Centauran woman interrupted, apparently
having decided to dispense with the pleasantries.

"Well, good afternoon to you too, Taela." He smiled. "I take it you
received the message from BuPers."

"I did," she replied coolly. "Explain to me why you get to take one
of my best captains, leaving me with a hole of my own to fill?"

"It's simple, really. One of my own captains has recently suffered
what's likely to be a career-ending injury, and I need a replacement.
An experienced replacement."

"You're talking about Galaxy," Shanthi leaned into the screen, "aren't you?"

Valerian nodded once, a slight frown crossing his features. News of
M'Kantu's demise hadn't been well-publicized in official channels, but
as always it seemed the unofficial channels were quite active. "I am.
So maybe you understand where I'm coming from. Their ex-oh is doing
a decent job keeping the ship running for the time being, but she
lacks experience and I don't want to leave her in charge indefinitely.
Like I said, I need an experienced captain to take over. And T'Vara
is plenty experienced: forty plus years in Starfleet, six years in the
Big Chair, veteran of half a dozen major battles and many more minor
ones..."

"I see you've studied her file, William. In that case, you should
already know that she doesn't work well with non-Vulcans."

"That's one way of looking at it, yes." Valerian scratched his chin.
"But she has a more than proven record of molding subordinates into
some of the finest officers around. She's the perfect person to
unleash on some of the more...'interesting' members of Galaxy's crew."

Admiral Shanthi smiled, shaking her head slightly. "You have a point.
Tales of that crew's eccentricities are well-circulated, as I'm sure
you're aware."

"You do understand where I'm coming from, then." He paused, also
leaning closer to the screen on his side of the comm channel, and
asked in a low, almost seductive voice, "Tell me you'll say yes."

For a long moment Shanthi was completely silent and unmoving, although
Valerian could swear he could hear the gears in her head turning, even
across the many light years that separated them. Then, when he
thought for certain her mind had completely wandered off into some
far-distant realm, she brought a hand up to her chin, let out a soft
'hm', and finally said, "Alright."

Valerian's expression brightened noticeably. "Thank you. I promise
you won't regret it."

"I'm sure I won't," she replied wryly. "You owe me, William. Shanthi out."

"What Lies Within: Part 4"

Adrmial Sonia An'quinsos- 11th Fleet
Lt. Commander Adrian An'quinsos- Counselor
And Various NPC's

*Bridge: USS Stormwarden*

Roughly two hours given by the Fleet Admiral was decidedly cut down to
an hour by the Captain. The Stormwarden had already surveyed the star
system; whatever else the sensor sweeps were picking up could be added
to the current report. The Chief Science Officer wasn't very happy
with the decision; however, the reasoning behind it was sound.
Therefore he gathered his staff, delegated sections to be written and
sent them on their merry ways to complete them. The rest of the ship
was no less busy, the ship more active that it had ever been since
they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Security teams were doubled,
making their rounds like clockwork; technicians were going from panel
to panel checking systems to make sure they were working as close to
perfect as possible and engineering was preparing for no less than a
warp core breach. On the bridge there was a sense of constant vigil as
general sensor sweeps were being run, the ship was being scanned, and
everyone seemed to be preparing for the worst-case scenario- doom.

"I heard that she was at least ten thousand years old."

And then that tense quiet was suddenly shattered by one, familiar
voice. Distracted, every personnel from their respective stations
turned to look at the grinning helmsmen. There was always one
character at least on every ship, or that was what Murphy's Law
dictated anyway after it was revised a week ago. And it just happened
that Lieutenant Drew Coker fit this description; mid twenties, blonde
haired and blue eyed, he always had some remark to lighten the mood
up- or tried to at any rate. A mixture of frowns, sighs, and shaking
heads filled the room as some turned back to their consoles, while
others couldn't help but respond.

"Drew, I'm sure you have better things to do right now." Lieutenant
Elizabeth Stiles sounded pointedly from her station at Science. "I'm
sure there are gravimetric fluctuations going on somewhere to keep you
busy."

"What? It's a totally valid statement." He protested. "I mean you've
heard the rumors- everyone's been saying it- she was probably there
when they built those things!"

"Impossible; even if she was, the ship predates her by a long
stretch." Sounded the lieutenant. "I suppose they're also saying that
she's going to use it to end the war?"

"Who told you that?" He grinned and winked.

"May I remind the both of you that the person you are referring to is
a Starfleet Admiral and therefore should be accorded with the respect
she deserves?"

"Come on Commander," Drew began with a conspiratory smile. "Even
you've heard the rumors and besides, it was just a little joke…
Vulcans…" He ended with the last bit muttered under his breath.

"Rumors will get you nowhere in life lieutenant." T'Lel responded in a
dry manner as he sat in the Captain's chair staring contemplatively at
the massive ship on the view screen. "Right now our duty is to collect
data on that ship, scan this system and sector for any possible signs
of danger, and deal with it. Those orders should be paramount in
comparison to this crew's speculations."

"Admit it Commander, haven't you ever wondered about her? Starfleet
still so many unanswered questions about her race and we're looking at
one of them now."

There was a long, thoughtful silence from the seat and several people
had to gaze back at the Commander to make sure he was alright. "I'll
admit a certain… curiosity. Attending the Vulcan Academy of Science, I
met an El-Aurian Professor, Daenara An'quinsos, who appeared to be in
her late fifties. In my last year at Starfleet Academy, we had a guest
speaker, an Admiral come to give a lecture on multi-tactical scenarios
and the use of unconventional verses conventional methods to solve
them. The approach she took was most logical."

"It was the Admiral?"

He nodded. "She hasn't aged a day since I saw her- neither of them
has. Later I found out that the Professor on Vulcan was the Admiral's
mother. As for their ages, every file I saw listed them as unknown
which isn't unusual. A fair number of didn't give their age, while
others, some suspect, didn't divulge their true ages, preferring to
use arbitrary numbers."

"So any mention on how she did on the Kobyashi Maru?"

"Commander T'Lel," The Admiral began as she left the turbolift; what
seemed to be a formerly relaxed room became real quiet and tense once
more. "Is Captain Strider in his Ready Room?"

"Yes ma'am; you're brother is also in there as well."

"Thank you Commander." She began walking towards the door, and
continued without missing a beat. "And helmsmen, back in my day the
Kobyashi Maru was facing down a pack of saber toothed tigers with only
a spear… and making it out alive."

Andrew Coker had frozen in place as she called him out; she didn't
need to say his surname, as his job aptly sufficed. He was expecting
questions concerning the system, and instead found his face turning a
deep shade of red as she spoke. There was no hostility in her voice,
but somehow, someway he knew that she wasn't overly amused by whatever
was being dispersed among the crew. Elizabeth Stiles and a few other
crewmembers shot him a smirk, while the Commander giving him the
closest approximation of one that a Vulcan could give. He cleared his
throat a moment, looked at everyone and resumed his duties.

"I've just spoken with your brother," Strider began replicating them
both something to drink. "The science department has almost completed
their report as well as worked out what those arrays actually are."

She took the hot chocolate from his hands and took a deep drink and
sighed inwardly in relief. "And their conclusions?"

"It's an energy funneling matrix." He began with a drink of his tea.
"Energy directed in enough quantity is channeled into a series of
collectors. When the amount reaches a critical point, a series of
smaller arrays running perpendicular and parallel to the ship generate
a field that releases it back an omnidirectional discharge."

"Very creative…" She trailed off thoughtfully taking another drink
from her cup.

"May I ask your… thoughts on the matter? What do you intend to do with it?"

Emerald eyes gazing to the floor so intently shifted toward the human
who had asked her two questions, one more important than the other,
but which was which? The tall humanoid female studied his expression
carefully. When she had first heard of Michael Andrew Strider, it was
at the Advanced Tactical School at Wolf 359. Fresh out of the academy
from officer's training, his scores were beyond exceptional, however
here was far from being one of Admiral Hoth's prized students. While
he did have a mathematical approach at times, he tended to let it give
way to other ways of solving problems. Though this did work to the
surprise of some, it also had a greater chance of disaster. Probably
to the relief of many, he had cleaned up a lot of that thinking, but
the core of that young man was still there. Tried as he might, Hoth
hadn't completely molded him into a fully capable killing machine; he
still had a considerable conscience. Still, you win some and you lose
some.
"To your first question, I don't think it should be within ten
thousand light years of here. Everything studied suggests- states-
that it shouldn't be here. It's an anomaly within causality and worse…
it's a relic of a past too old for anyone to remember except in myths
and legends. It's a relic that should have stayed where it belonged,
instead of being here, in the hands of babes."

Strider looked up as the door chimed. "Come in."

The doors opened to the younger An'quinsos sibling intently studying a
padd. He looked up, eyes darting momentarily between either of them;
whatever was going on it looked a little tense. "Just got back from
the science department, here's the summary you asked for." He handed
the Admiral the padd and continued. "Also recent reports indicate that
the Dampening Field has reactivated."

"Not surprising," The El-Aurian woman replied, studying the material
before her. "It wasn't meant to be permanent." She reviewed the padd
for a few more moments, and then laid it on the desk. "Captain, could
you give us a moment? I need to speak with the lieutenant commander
alone."

The Captain gave a nod to the Admiral, a nod to the lieutenant
commander, stood up and exited the office. The Admiral stood up,
looked around and inevitably took the Captain's seat while the
lieutenant commander to the chair she formerly occupied. A bit of due
silence passed between them; the El-Aurian female looked pensive, her
mind on a thousand things while the El-Aurian male sat there with the
patience of a humanoid his age and race, waiting for the first words
to pass between them.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you what's going on, or the importance
behind it. I'd wager a thousand bars of gold-pressed-latinum that
you've already reviewed and assessed the situation for what it is."
Her fingers came together in a contemplative gesture and continued
further. "This system was chosen to conduct research at based on the
fact that it had no humanoid life forms, was located away from the
shipping lanes, and above all, remote. This ship leaves me with three
options: contact Starfleet, trigger the self destruct, or realign the
Dampening Field grid. A fourth option remains but… it's too distant to
attempt. From a Counselor to an Admiral, what are your thoughts?"

Adrian had already shifted to the same contemplative pose; it appeared
to be something of a family trait. He listened to her every word,
focused on every syllable, and heard exactly what she was saying.
There was no cracking in her voice, no weakness of mind or body, and
certainly no signs of defeat. But most important of all, at least to
him, she didn't ask from a brother to sister standpoint, she asked
him, officer to officer what he thought on the matter. As her brother
he would have responded with something like 'my thought is, is that
you've already made up your mind, and there's no getting around that.'
It would have been a little mean, maybe slightly true, but at least
could claim it as one of his thoughts. He took a deep breath washing
away any tomfoolery from his mind and began speaking.

"Whether it a race or an organization, everyone has their own version
of a Prime Directive. If I may quote apart of the Federation Prime
Directive: As the right of each sentient being to live in accordance
with its normal cultural evolution is considered sacred, no Starfleet
personnel may interfere with the normal and healthy development of
alien life and culture. Such interference includes introducing
superior knowledge, stretch or technology to a world whose society is
incapable of handling such advantages wisely." He took a deep breath
before continuing. "It isn't a ship of exploration; it was built and
bred for war, with the sole purpose of annihilating its enemies.
Moreover, the race that built that ship is extant, and that race still
has their own Prime Directives."

He paused with consideration of that thought. Yes, he was a member of
that race but the challenge of it all was how to remain and advice as
a Counselor instead of thinking like the person off duty. "There would
be many arguments to the contrary, but inevitably it comes down to the
rights of the people; what would they have us do with the ship? Those
with a desire for revenge would say it should be used against the
Borg, with others saying it should be used against the war with the
Triad." He breathed deeply once more, so many things to say, and yet,
it seemed, not enough time to say them in. "But the majority would say
that this ship had a purpose, and that purpose was met a very long
time ago. They would say that they were El-Aurians, and that name,
that identity, and that heritage spoke itself."
"Then as a Counselor as an El-Aurian what d you consider would be the
right thing to do?"

"The ship can't be towed back; it's far too massive there are not
enough resources on this ship. There appears to be enough power to
keep the Dampening Field online, however the chance of triggering a
self destruct sequence is slim to none. Therefore the best alternative
lies in expanding Dampening Field to encompass the hull, which reminds
me," He stood up pensively. "There's still the matter of any
'inhabitance' on that ship. There are soldiers that may well still be
under cryogenic stasis; what do we do about them? What would be your
intentions regarding their fate."

"Leave them frozen." She said simply. "The soldiers were genetically
enhanced; the moment they come out of stasis is the moment they've
sealed their fate."

"With the technology that we have now, can't those alterations be
reversed? With our physiology's approach to foreign intrusion, isn't
there a way to help this along without killing them?"

She paused a moment, considering his words. "If there are any
survivors left, and that's a long shot. The only condition might be
how far along are they in the process of destabilization. You remember
the ones back on the nebula, they were basically operating on
instinct. I'll talk to the Doctors about this before we leave."

"How long?"

"Half an hour maybe less. We can't beam in so a shuttle should work."
She stood up. "We'll go to the stasis rooms and proceed from there."

"How many?"

"You're looking at them."

"Admiral, you know they're going to quote General Order Fifteen at
you." He ended with a slight smirk. Used to doing things her own way,
she never did like a security detail following her. Maybe it was all
that travelling she did that caused it, or spending time on QonoS, who
knows? "They might not let you off the ship until you comply… or prove
your point one."

"Fine… fine…" She said waving a hand as they exited the room. "Let's
just get this done and over with."

"Arrival"

The Wretch
Dr. Robert Mathieson, MD (APC)
Dr. Ejuu Chaar, Ship's Dentist (NPC)

Sickbay, USS Galaxy
================

The alien thing that hovered above him was hideous. A type of mammal
certainly judging from the hairy brow and narrow, beady eyes that
peered into the Wretch's gaping mouth, it grunted as it poked a hairy
finger along the prisoner's lower gum-line. Surprisingly there was no
pain, but the creature's scowl sent the Wretch's pulse racing, sending
alarms off above his head.

"Steady lad", the mammal growled. "Been up well past me bedtime t'fix
yer up. There'll be Barney Rubble if ye go and muck up me 'ard work.
An' Doctor Chaar'll be right pissed if ye go an' wreck yer new
pearlie-whites. Now, keep yer gob shut'afore ye say summat barmy."

It was a type of Federation standard patios the apelike creature
spoke, but the Wretch managed to make out most of it. The tall
creature's companion however, seemed confused by the alien words. It
was deep emerald in colors, and the scales seemed like polished jade.
Its head was elongated, and periodically a thin tongue flickered past
rows of needle-like teeth. Thin, delicate claws poked in the Wretch's
mouth and felt like dexterious instruments of cold steel, but the
creatures leathery rasping voice offered an unusual feeling of trust
and comfort.

"Barney Rubble? Barmey? Gob?", it asked in a hissing voice like the
splintering of dried wood. "Really Robert, for an educated man you
speak like a peasant. Your anachronisms are confusing our patient…
and myself as well."

"Fed Standard's based largely on' English", the one called Robert said
with a scowl. "An' last I checked, London was part o' England, ye
scaly green troglodyte." From the corner of his eyes, the Wretch saw
the mammal make some sort of gesture that sent the reptilian named
Chaar into a controlled fit of hissing laughter.

"Aire ehm eye?" the Wretch managed.

"Wot?"

"AIR EHM EYE?"

Chaar looked at the squat mammal and forced his chuckling to end.
"He's asking where he is – a good sign." The iguana like Pahkwa-thanh
bent down to provide the Wretch with a look into his eyes, proving
there would be no deception in his words. "You're on the USS Galaxy,
a Federation starship. You've been liberated from the Hydran
facility. Do you remember?"

The Wretch shook his head and asked another question. "OOO EHM EYE?"

"Wot?"

"He said…"

"I 'erd 'im th' first time, ye walkin' set o' luggage!" the mammal
growled. "I'm jus' surprised at th' question 's all. 'Re ye sayin'
ye don't know yer name? Wot ye are?"

The Wretch nodded vigorously, sending some of the reptilian dentist's
appliances and tools flying to the floor. Doctor Chaar scrambled
quickly as he erupted into another series of reptilian chortling.
"Well, you're in luck my friend", he rasped when he caught his breath.
"Our Doctor Mathieson's something of an expert when it comes to
befuddled minds."

"Chaar, I swear, one o' these days it's Pahkwa-thanh boots fer ye" .
The once called Mathieson grabbed a small, bee-like instrument and
hovered it over the Wretch's head, sending a quiet humming throughout
the room which the Wretch now saw was filled with others on beds
attended by many other different kinds of species. Wide eyed he
looked around and was relieved that amongst the dozen or so different
aliens in the room, not one of them bore any resemblance to a Hydran.

Slowly the Wretch calmed down, but the expression on the mammal doctor
wasn't comforting. The old man squinted at the bio-bed's readout, and
his forehead wrinkled as he saw the scanner's readout. "Chaar… all
kiddin' aside… stan' back. NOW!"

The Pahkwa-thanh leaped back from the bed with a grace that defied his
enormous reptilian buck as the air shimmered around the Wretch. The
prisoner could smell ozone and felt his skin tingle with electricity.
When he tried to sit up higher on the bed, the air crackled and he
felt himself thrust back down.

"Sickbay t' Security."

[Security – go ahead.]

"Send someone down 'ere quicklike. I think we've got us a situation."

[Understood… Lieutenant Krieghoff is enroute. Security out.]

"Kreighoff", the old man groweled. "'At's jus fekkin' wot a sickbay
o' POW's needs! Wunnerful!"

"Odd." The Pahkwa-thanh dentist peered at the Wretch, who seemed as
if he was hyper-ventilating in his efforts to free himself. "Doesn't
seem terribly threatening. Merely… human."

""E is fer th' most part", Mathieson said as he looked at the graphic
display above the Wretch's head. "But th' way 'e thinks. M' thinkin'
we've got a Hydran n' sheep's clothing."

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