USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60806.08 - 60806.14 |
Logs |
| "Avila - Within the walls of Security"
Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora Location: Avila, Spain ================================================ Despite thoughts, Spain still retained small villages throughout the many years of it's existence. It was in one of these small villages that Ophelia Zamora was born. Avlia, Spain. She stood at the sacred wall that surrounded her town. Her one mission was set. She was here not as an attorney for Starfleet, but as a mother desperate to be reunited with her son. Bricks stood still, calling her to dare enter where she had called home for many years yet had not visited. Placing her finger on one of the bricks, she felt the mystic power that it had held captive. The wall, built in the 12th century cemented itself against the wear and tear of the past and possibility the future if God permitted. Within the confines, her family had taken great pride in the villa to which they had resided. Closing her eyes, she permitted a small sticky sigh to escape her lips. The heat, it was something that she had to accolade herself to yet again. Air conditioning on a starship had spoiled her. For the pure, passionate heat of Spain swirled around her, teasing her, beckoning the small pores on the back of her next open and bleed sweat. It was welcomed by her however. It opened up her soul as well. Glancing down, Zamora swore at her uniform. She felt the urge to strip, dressing her lithe body in a breezy sundress that was the local means of clothing. She felt suddenly heavy within the confines of the Starfleet issued uniform. Yet, as much as she wanted to toss it, she couldn't. It was still a symbol of pride for her. It screamed....local girl did good as she approached the iron gate of the small town. Tossing a small timid smile to the gate keeper, he grinned back wolfishly. There was one thing that she hadn't missed about Spain. The men. They had a way about them....they were able to scent and track a woman from a distance away. Ignoring the looks, Ophelia walked through the gate, she took in her town, her city. The majestic walls were nothing in comparison to the Cathedral that sat to the right. It was the center of attention through the town. God cursed you, if you missed one mass. Miss two, and the townspeople doomed you to spend eternity in hell. She had missed.....well...enough to condemn her for eternity. Hoisting her duffel bag over her right shoulder, she stopped short of the church. The ability to confess sat right in front of her, mocking her with spirituality. 'Later' She mused. Somethings were even more important than her personal religion. Her son. She was here to get him, to bring him back on the Galaxy and show him the wonders of what a starship could hold within it's guts out in the deepest parts of space. The data padd she clenched in her hand gave her legal permission to be a 'mother' again despite her own mother's objection. 'Wicked woman' Ophelia thought to herself as she raised an embroidered handkerchief and dotted at her forehead. She was instantly caught off guard by a group of children running past her giggling with dripping ice cream cones. As her eyebrows sunk, she searched for Logan. Would he be in that group? One girl turned back, amused by Ophelia's uniform and cut her a childlike grin full of hope for the future. Zamora smiled back, half waving as the girl turned to join the rest of her gang. The simplicity of being a child struck her, wishing that she was one herself again. The short walk was chock full of memories. The villa was nestled against the right wall of the town and she approached it faster than she really wished to. Stopping before the ornately carved wooden doors, her eyes followed the vining roses and ivy that crept up the front of the home. Somethings never did change, yet most everything does change. Grabbing the bronze door handle, she opened the door to be met with the smell of her mother's pasta sauce that drifted to the foyer. Her ears opened, listening for any sound that would qualify as her son. Nothing. He was likely off playing with the other boys she told herself. The small smile that danced across her lips came with the image of him dirty and dusty from a day of frolicking in the Spanish sun. Logan likely was as tan as a boy could get if she knew her mother. Girls were meant to stay in the kitchen and the home, learning to keep their future husbands content. Boys were meant to run wild, experiencing what they could before the duty of being a man was slapped upon them. "Lia......????" "Si' Mumi. I am home." Her mother came around the corner, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and giving her daughter a disapproving look. Ophelia shot a look of disdain back at her mother, knowing that she should not have. "Go change." "Where is he Mother?" "Out." She simply responded. "Out where?" Zamora heard the front door open as a burst of energy bolted into the room then froze as he took the sight of his mother in. His eyes scanned her as the soccer ball he held in the crux of his arm felt the nervous twitch of his arm. He stayed silent, not knowing what to make of the woman that stood perfected in front of him. Mema told him she was coming to take him away to a big ship, but he did not realize that it would be so soon. Ophelia attempted to make her face create an expression, but she couldn't. When did he get so big? Oh my god....he's so much bigger. And tan....just like she thought he would be. She stared at him, drinking in every feature. From her eyes, to his father's nose, he was the offspring of her....to that there was no doubt. Her mind instantly flashed to how she had decorated his room. It was for a young child....not for the child that stood in front of her. She felt sheepish, guilty for imagining him as a baby instead of the almost seven year old that stood in front of her. "Logan." She managed to eek out as she bent her knees and lowered herself to his level. He said nothing and returned her stare for a moment. The bouncing thud of the soccer ball as it hit the floor was the only sound for a moment. In the same rush of energy he came in, he ran straight to his mother's waiting arms for the first time in three years almost knocking her on her bottom. His memories assaulted him. Her hair still smelled the same, her hands still as smooth as he remembered the way she caressed his cheek the day she left him here, and her voice soothed his aching young soul. She had come back, just as she promised and they would forever be together. Logan had been forced to grow up a lot since her departure, yet in a moment, the small child was back as he nestled into her softly perfumed neck and whispered. "Hi Mom..........." "Hello my beautiful boy............." TBC: "And Yet, Another Dare" Jaal Jaxom ==Brig== He honestly had no idea why he kept bailing her out of the brig. Was Jaxom stared at Smith a moment before ordering the containment field And... Was that glitter on her lips?? A security crewman that escorted Jaal in the brig area. "We really "I can't believe those idiots arrested me," Arel huffed. "I wasn't "The report said you chased the kid around the salon with a pair of Of course, Jaal knew it took pitifully little to piss Arel off but it "She tried to attack me with bows and glittery shit," Arel replied. "I Jaal quirked an amused eyebrow. "You make it sound like a little She glared. "Let me out of this cell, Jaal." Jaal smiled and nodded to the security crewman to turn off the Arel stepped out of the cell and walked past Jaxom, flipping off the Jaal imagined her walking next to him naked. It certainly wasn't a bad The Trill's face immediately scrunched up in surprise. He couldn't Arel raised an eyebrow. "Such as?" "Well, you know...," Jaal tried desparately to make some sense, "... He frowned inwardly at himself. He felt like a big, fat hypocrite She shrugged. "I can get conversation with my friends. If I'm lonely, Jaal rolled his eyes. She was talking about Mitchell. Sure, there was Then again, it wasn't like Jaal never had a screwed up relationship "Okay then, fair nuff," Jaal grudgingly agreed. "Just out of "I talked to him the other day," She said. "He hung up when I "Heh, you're doing better than I am," Jaal told her in a tone oozing "It was never that kind of marriage," Arel said sharply. "If he wants He shook his head, "At least you've heard from him. I haven't heard a "I can find you someone," Arel said with a suddenly bright smile. "I'm He was tempted but Jaal had also heard from the horse's mouth just how "Chicken," She said. "Oh hardly," he chuckled heartily. Jaal wouldn't fall into her trap. "You may have 'standards,' Jaxom, but I think you're afraid," Arel Aw shit. Jaal glanced at Arel sideways. She was playing him and he knew it. Besides, he thought privately, it just might be fun. Arel tried for an innocent look which fell a few light years away from its mark. "Trust me," She said. Jaal winced painfully. She would SO pay for this the next time they sparred. TBC... [OOC: Warning: very lengthy! Just one more after this and I'm done. I "What Lies Within: Part 5" Admiral Sonia An'quinsos- 11th Fleet * The Distant Past, Place: The Shipyards of Arinor Prime* Ezmion, Emperor of the El-Aurian Empire gazed contemplatively out the "You're Excellency," Admiral Cerin Naderos began. "We're coming into The Emperor nodded and turned his gaze toward the window. He didn't "Docking complete… your Excellency, is everything all right?" "Hmm?" He looked over at the Admiral and smiled cordially. "Yes; how "Estimates put it at one hour." "Good…" Ezmion set his gaze upon the space station, the thing dwarfed *2385: The Binary Star System (the location of the discovered ship…)* "I was informed that you were fully debriefed by the Captain, so I'll "Yes Admiral An'quinsos, Sir!" All six of them barked in resounding unison. By the Gods she loved Marines. When the Admiral stated this mission's purpose in the briefing room, "Have I ever told you that you can be very scary at times?" Adrian "I wouldn't kill you little brother," She interrupted sweetly. "I'd The El-Aurian left before her brother could come up with a response * The Distant Past, Place: The Shipyards of Arinor Prime* The First Fleet had begun to gather even before the Emperor began his The tall humanoid male stepped onto the bridge; brilliant blue eyes "Since time before memorial, when our ancestors walked across our "We have pushed them from our Homeworld, but now they seek to return The sounds of cheers resounded over the speakers as the Emperor took a The dreadnought joined her sisters as light and heavy cruisers, They finally came within range of the fleet; disruptor and phaser *2385: The Binary Star System (the location of the discovered ship…)* "Hmmm… there's been very recent activity here." "Thank you Admiral Obvious for that riveting commentary." That was the understatement of the decade. Entering through the "I'm personally sending you to Rura Penthe when this is finished." She "On what grounds exactly?" He frowned, catching and sighting it to "For snarking an Admiral of the Fleet." "That's a word?" Yes, he decided, his sister was definitely "And what 'illustrious' reputation is that, Lieutenant?" A It's Lieutenant Commander actually, Admiral An'quinsos." He unsheathed "You were a Lieutenant Commander, and a Counselor." She countered "What about my wife and children?" "You know how to write letters… just make sure you do it before the "Sir, we are ready to go. What are your orders, sir?" The sibling pair ceased their discussion; heads turned simultaneously "Our probable components here will most likely be super soldiers. "Brady and Callahan, you are to accompany Lieutenant Commander "Finally, Nordstrom and Swindle, you're with me." The woman looked at * The Distant Past, Place: El-Aurian System* The Ravager and the Reckoning left the main fleet to plunge themselves As the battle progressed, the enemy found the El-Aurian people far In under half an hour it was apparent who the victors would be in Despite this policy, their true natures remained intact; what bezerker For those aboard the Executor, many of them were the first to undergo *2385: The Binary Star System (the location of the discovered ship…)* On the farside of this massive ship was another, smaller ship in "We're coming upon the secondary docking bay… transmitting the code… now." Hands cuffed in front of him, Lieutenant Zack Reid looked at the group From what he understood, this plan begins with getting to the ship, "Captain's log supplemental. We have been ordered to the Xarius His eyes scanned down and nodded. "They had a few ships in the docking "Sec'shiol na'algeryx vresten kel'y'seshen…" "Lieutenant Commander, we've got company." Though it was in his files, few people knew, or even cared that Adrian "Orders?" "Weapons down; do not provoke them." Adrian glanced at the two marines "D'shiel Aud'rhian Au'shen qin'sosiir y'gev'nthell Deillas Innes Re, Or as he thought he told them: I am Dreamer the-sea [they]-(that) Starfleet Third Echelon: The Bainbridge Chronicles Act I: “The Last Note of Freedom” Scene 2: “Cry Havoc!”
Captain Gabriel McKibben, Commanding Officer Lt. Commander Alexander Clayton, Executive Officer/Chief Operations Lt. Commander Jeremiah Leger, Second Officer/Chief Tactical and Security Lieutenant Tarik, Third Officer/Chief Science and Communications Lieutenant JG Sannek Cole, Chief Flight Control Lieutenant JG Simena, Assistant Chief Engineer Ensign Edward Barents, Engineer
Main Bridge - USS Bainbridge *********** The Defiant Class Starship slipped out of the darkness and lit up the night. At the Captain’s command, the Bainbridge let loose with everything that she had. Pulse Phasers, Standard Phasers, Quantum and Photon Torpedoes. The salvo hit the trailing Hydran Cruiser square in its flank, causing it to now rethink its position. It broke off its attack in order to attempt to come around to bring its weapons to bear on the Bainbridge.
“Stay on him Mr. Sannek.” McKibben called out.
“What about the Courageous sir?” he asked half turning back. “Our families-“
“Will be dead if we sit around here yapping.” McKibben said firmly, finishing the statement for him. “Keep on that one and let the other ships do their jobs.”
“Aye sir.” Sannek said, turning back to his console, but not without taking one last pained look at the now stricken Galaxy-Class Starship.
“My family is on there too Lieutenant.” Leger said from Tactical as he continued to pour fire onto the cruiser they were chasing down. “Not much we can do at the moment except to try and draw their fire.”
The formation had broken up at this point and space was an all out free-for-all as Hydran and Federation starships vied for supremacy over one another. The Hydrans continued to harass the Courageous while taking sniping shots at the Krotus, the Uziel, and the Incessant.”
“Hail from the Courageous sir.” Tarik reported. “They say that they have no clue where we came from, but they’re glad that we’re here and to keep on doing what we’re doing. They think that they can keep together long enough to get their warp drive back online.”
“Acknowledge it and tell them that we’ll do what we can.” McKibben said. The ship then shuddered as it came under fire. “Report.” He called out.
“Shields holding.” Clayton reported. “Eighty-Five Percent”
“Got some fluxuations in the power grid.” Barents reported. “Commander Hayes says that he’s on it already.”
“Leger, can you get a shot off on that bastard that hit us?” McKibben asked.
“Sure, just don’t expect me to do more than ruin paint on their hull if you want me to keep after bogey one.” He said, referring to the one that he was firing on now.
“No need to be neat, just make him think twice.”
“Roger that, one ‘thinker’ coming up.” Leger said. His snap shot with the standard phaser array glanced off the Hydran’s shields just above their bridge.
“Not bad.” McKibben said, admiring the shot as the Hydran peeled off and promptly ran into a hail of fire from the Uziel and the Krotus.
“Not really,” Leger admitted with a shrug. “I was aiming for center mass.”
McKibben grinned. “Let’s finish this one off.” He gave the order to Leger to fire. Leger let loose once again. His shots rang true and the Hydran Cruiser erupted in a massive fireball. Cheers rang out across the bridge and Lieutenant Sannek pulled the ship into a victory roll for good measure.
They were on the look out for more prey when another cruiser came up on their port side, unloading on them. The Bainbridge shuddered under the impact. A bright flash of light outside spelled the end of another ship.
“We just lost the Uziel sir!” Leger called out. “She rammed a cruiser and took them out with ‘em.”
“Shields failing!” Clayton called out. “Hull breech deck four, torpedo control.”
“Scramble Damage Control.” McKibben ordered. He punched the comm button on his armrest. “Bridge to Engineering, Hayes, I need shields back up or we’re all dead.”
“Ssssorry to report ssssiiiir.” A hissing sound came back from the Gnalish Assistant Chief Engineer, Lieutenant JG Simena. “Commander Hayesssss isssss dead. A Plassssma conduit exploded with that lasssst hit. I am in command down here.”
McKibben shut his eyes tightly and winced. He and Hayes went way back. “Very well Lieutenant. Get me shields back soon.”
“Aye Ssssssir. Ssssimena out.”
“Message from the Courageous.” Tarik said. “They’re taking heavy fire. They are unable to bring shields back up.”
“Their power just spiked!” Barents called out from the Engineering Station. “They’re on their way to a core breech!”
“Sannek, get close and try to cover some of the escape pods. And get your pilots into the shuttles to start rounding up pods.” McKibben said. “Clayton, if you can, start beaming survivors out when we’re in range. Leger, continue firing as your weapons bear.”
McKibben looked back at the viewscreen with a feeling of dread as he listened to his crew carry out their orders. He hoped to hell that his wife would make it off of the Courageous in time…
TBC… Starfleet Third Echelon: The Bainbridge Chronicles Act I: “The Last Note of Freedom” Scene 3: “Exit, Stage Left…”
Lieutenant JG Le’on Khatowren, Security Officer – On transfer to USS Galaxy Ensign Heather Leger, Science Officer – On transfer to Starbase 5 Cadet 4th Year Andrew Owens – On transfer to Starbase Atlantis Cadet 3rd Year Jessica Raliegh– On transfer to Starbase 5 Cadet 1st Year Aline Leger – On transfer to Starbase Atlantis Grace McKibben, Teacher – On transfer to Starbase 5
Deck 20 – Temporary Crew Quarters, USS Courageous Shortly before the attack… ********** Heather and Grace were sipping their drinks in the temporary quarters that they shared on the USS Courageous while on the transfer cruise. Their babies were playing on the floor with their wide array of toys strewn about.
“So how’s Aline doing?” Grace was asking. Her and Heather had become great friends ever since their husbands became assigned to the same ship together.
“Stressing as usual.” Heather said as she took another drink of her tea. “That little furball that calls himself a Caitain has her and the other cadets running around in circles down in the holodeck.
Grace giggled. “Is it true that he’s only two feet tall?” she asked.
Heather nodded. “I saw him a couple of times on the Miranda. He’s small enough to perch on Jeremiah’s shoulder without being a nuisance.”
“Unreal…” Grace marveled at the concept of a walking, talking, housecat.
Suddenly, the red alert klaxons went off, sending the kids into a screaming fit at the sudden loud noises and flashing red lights. Both women walked over to scoop up and comfort their respective children; Heather with the twins and Grace with her only son. Grace looked a bit fearful.
“Relax.” Heather said with a reassuring smile. “Probably not for us. Probably some ship in distress or something.” She said, feeling a bit out of place. Back on the Miranda she was used to having a duty station and a place to go to when an alert sounded. Here, as a passenger, she wasn’t so sure of things.
The lights dimmed suddenly as the ship rocked from the impact of something. Heather swung around to look out of the viewport; they’d dropped out of warp and there were weapons fire flashing past them. In the distance, she could make out one of the ships’ escorts whirling around to face an unseen enemy. It too became raked with weapons fire as it returned fire to somewhere towards the aft of the Courageous. The ship shuddered and buckled again, this time plunging the women into darkness while sending them tumbling to the floor.
--- Elsewhere on Deck 20…
“MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” Le’on Khatowren was yelling and hissing at the cadets under his charge. Weapons fire had penetrated their section and the atmosphere was rushing out. Le’on had sunk his claws into the deck carpeting and was clawing his way toward the bulkhead door that would close and seal off this section at any minute. Around him, cadets who’d never been under fire before were all rushing to get out of the section before they were totally exposed to space.
Le’on was proud to note that some of his cadets were not fleeing in an all out panic. A handful was at the doorway ushering others out and pulling out those who were injured. Aline Leger, daughter of his former department XO was one of them. She certainly inherited her father’s fearlessness, he noted. Another was a 4th year by the name of Andrew Owens who seemed to take charge whenever Le’on wasn’t around.
“Everyone’s out sir!” Owens yelled over the roaring all around them. The ship shuddered under the impact of another weapon and sparks flew all around, causing Owens to duck. “Just need to get you out now!”
“GO!” Le’on howled as he still, literally, climbed his way to the door. The sucking of the escaping atmosphere was almost too much for him.
“No! We won’t leave you!” Aline called out from the doorway.
“You vill leave me!” Le’on ordered, but the two cadets were too busy hatching their own plans. Aline had dropped to the flat of her stomach. Another cadet, Jessica Raliegh, was wrapping herself around Aline’s ankles while Owens was holding on to Raliegh’s ankles. They slid Aline out to where Aline then grabbed Le’on, and then they yanked them out just as the doors slammed shut to seal off the section.
“Thanks…” Le’on panted as he allowed himself a moment to relax.
Owens grinned. “Just ‘cause you’re a hardass, doesn’t mean we’d like you to die.” He said jokingly. “Sir.” Le’on gave him a pained grin, telling the cadet that he wasn’t amused.
“Warning. Warning.” The computer intoned. “Core breech imminent. All hands evacuate at once.”
“All hands! Abandon Ship!” The captain’s voice then called out. “I repeat, Abandon Ship! This is not a drill!”
“That vould be our cue to exit.” Le’on said, springing to his feet. He look around and saw that there were only five of his cadets left. He growled irritably. “Let’s go.” He ordered, pointing down the corridor.
--- Outside the Escape Pod area on Deck 20…
Heather and Grace stumbled in the corridor as the stricken ship lurched to one side. Both hit the wall hard but managed to rebound as they continued to make their way to the escape pods. People all around were pushing and jockeying for position to get off the ship as soon as possible. Heather and Grace found one that was not yet being occupied. Heather allowed Grace and her toddler in first before handing her daughter, Marilyn in.
The ship lurched again, Heather lost her grip on the side bar of the pod and spilled back out into the corridor. Her son, Joseph bounced from her arms and landing a few feet away. The toddler looked up fearful and began bawling once again. “Joseph, NO!” Heather called out as she felt some hands from inside of the escape pod try to pull her back in. “Let me go!” She yelled out.
“Let it go lady!” the person pulling her back in called out. “We don’t have time!”
The ship was hit once again and sparks showered in the corridor. Heather stretched out her arms for her son…
--- On the other side of the Escape Pod area on Deck 20…
Le’on was ushering what was left of his cadets into an escape pod when he heard a woman scream nearby. His hearing picked it up easily.
“What’s wrong sir?” Raliegh asked, noticing that he paused at the hatchway. “Get in!”
Le’on didn’t answer her. Instead, he jumped up and punched the command to shut the hatch and launch the pod before he rushed off down the corridor. He didn’t go far before he saw a redheaded human sobbing, being pulled back into an escape pod. He saw the equally sobbing human child that was almost as big as he was across the corridor. Le’on never thought twice about it as he ran to the child.
His ears picked up the whining of a nearby overload and he tackled the kid just as a panel nearby blew outwards, showering the whole corridor in sparks and smoke. Le’on knew that his fur was singed a bit, but he ignored it. He coughed out some smoke and then picked up the child and rushed into the escape pod that, apparently, his mother just got drug in to. Once in, he yelled out. “Ve’re in! GO!” The hatch closed at once and Le’on felt the jostle as the escape pod shot away from the ship.
Heather rushed to her son. “Oh Joseph!” she cried out as she kissed her child repeatedly, not even caring that he was now covered in soot like Le’on was. Le’on rolled his eyes. Humans and their emotions… he thought. He then felt himself being gathered up and Heather’s lips all over his face and head. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she said as she kissed him repeatedly now.
“Alright alright alright…” Le’on said, pushing away from her. “Don’t make me pull rank on you Ensign Leger…” he said. Heather let him go and Le’on proceeded to smooth out his fur on his head. “Sheesh… I only did vat anyone else do.”
“Almost everyone…” Heather said, glaring at the civilian who had yanked her back into the pod. “How’d you know who I was anyway Lieutenant Khatowren?”
“I see my reputation precede me.” Le’on said. “I vork with your husband and then your daughter. Sorry we not meet in person before dis though.”
Heather’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God! Aline!”
“Relax. She in escape pod with other cadets.” Le’on said, waving a paw to dismiss her fears. “I send them on dere way before I come here.”
Heather sighed. “Again… thank you.”
“Velcome. Just don’t kiss me again please. I don’t know what it is about human and small furry creatures…”
“Guys, I hate to break up the reunion… but I’d brace yourselves.” The pilot of the escape pod said. Le’on turned to look out the aft window. From the outside, the USS Courageous looked like Swiss cheese. He saw the debris of other ships all around and the battle that was still raging on around the Galaxy-Class Starship. The saucer section of the once mighty starship had separated, but Le’on wondered if it could get away in time to avoid the core breech. Seconds later, the Stardrive Section that they’d just been on erupted in a massive fireball. Le’on shielded his eyes and was thankful for the automatic polarization of the viewport glass; else he would’ve been blinded.
He chanced another look. There was nothing left of the USS Courageous. Even the Saucer Section had been obliterated in the blast…
TBC… OOC: Alright... time for my catch up session with Le’on and some of my other characters. :D I've been typing these posts out all weekend. Hope you enjoy!
Starfleet Third Echelon: The Bainbridge Chronicles Act I: “The Last Note of Freedom”
Here I am, burning man, Singing a song of my open soul, Will time pass by me? All my dreams are heaven known.
I don’t wanna be cheated, I can’t go on in a world where love is beaten.
Rise up, burning man, Seize the wild, take command. Days of thunder see me shine, All my dreams turn out fine.
I know that the suffering will end, my friend When the last note of freedom is rung throughout the land…
-David Coverdale, “The Last Note of Freedom”
Captain Gabriel McKibben, Commanding Officer Lt. Commander Alexander Clayton, Executive Officer/Chief Operations Lt. Commander Jeremiah Leger, Second Officer/Chief Tactical and Security Lt. Commander Michael Hayes, Chief Engineer Lieutenant Tarik, Third Officer/Chief Science and Communications Lieutenant JG Sannek Cole, Chief Flight Control Ensign Edward Barents, Engineer Crewman Jessica Ross, Yeoman
Scene One: “The shot heard around the universe” Early 2384… (Just before the battle of Deep Space Five) Main Bridge - USS Bainbridge. ********** Captain’s Log, Stardate 61333.11; USS Bainbridge on escort mission to Deep Space Five, Captain Gabriel McKibben reporting…
We’ve been escorting, hell, shadowing, the USS Courageous and her convoy ever since they left Sector 001 earlier this week. Any other day, I’d think that this mission, our first official one since refit and training has been completed, would be a total frakking waste of our time had it not been for the simple fact that we’re escorting our own friends and family aboard the USS Courageous herself. Starfleet certainly has a way of keeping our attention, that’s for sure.
So sure, we’ll take the milk run I guess…
Personally, I think that its overkill. The Courageous already has the Krotus, an Ambassador Class running as wingman with the Veldar and Uziel and the Incessant as escorts; two Sabers and a Defiant, respectively. So adding yet another Defiant to the mix, following under cloak no less, is just plain overkill.
Gotta thank the Klingons for our cloaking device… this thing is wonderful. I’m finally glad that someone at command grew a pair and started outfitting us with cloaking technology, even though we can’t openly admit it yet…
-sigh- I just pray that the mutterings of war turn out to be false. Somehow though, I don’t think that I’m that lucky.
END LOG.
Captain Gabriel McKibben closed the log entry and handed the PADD back to Yeoman Jessica Ross, who took it with a smile as she sauntered off the bridge. He smiled back at her and turned in the command chair to look at the forward viewscreen. It was the same old boring view as before; the tail end of five Federation Starships traveling at Warp 6 towards Deep Space Five. He sighed again as he glanced about the small bridge of the Defiant-Class Refit ship that he commanded.
His Bajoran helmsman, Lieutenant JG Sannek Cole sat diligently at the CONN, keeping up to date with all the minor course changes and corrections that kept them firmly in the wake of the preceding ships without being detected. Sannek was possibly the best pilot onboard the ship, with the exception of maybe one. That one stood behind McKibben now at the Tactical and Security Station; Lt. Commander Jeremiah Leger, his Second Officer, who was currently engrossed in going over long range sensor logs of the entire sector.
Off to his right at Operations and Sciences were Lt. Commander Alexander Clayton and Lieutenant Tarik; his departmental chiefs and his Executive and Third Officers respectively. Off to his left at Science II was his Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Valdis and next to her at Engineering was his Chief Engineer, Lt. Commander Michael Hayes.
McKibben had a great crew, in his opinion. With the formation of Third Echelon after the successes of the USS Incursion’s Away Team program and the USS Voyager/USS Enterprise’s Hazard Team Program, ship captains in the program were allowed to hand pick their crews. Captain Refelian got the first draft, in which he kept a majority of his original crew that were still alive, McKibben got the second draft, and Captain Munro got the third draft in order to make up the first three ships assigned to Third Echelon. McKibben took all the misfits, renegades, rejects, and mavericks that he could find and formed them into one hell of a crew. Refelian and Munro both thought he was insane, but one couldn’t argue with the results during the training.
A sudden beeping from the tactical behind him snapped his attention to the present. He swiveled in his chair to look at Leger with a questioning look. “We got company sir.” He said, not even waiting for McKibben to ask. “Looks to be a Hydran Squadron, coming in fast.”
“Confirmed.” Tarik called out at Science and Communications in his neutral Vulcan tone. “Five Hydran Cruisers bearing One-Three-Three Mark Two.” “Looks like the Courageous and her group spotted them too, sir.” Leger said. “They’ve all raised shields and powered up their weapons.”
“Red Alert, Battlestations” McKibben said, swinging around to face forward again. “Divert power to shields and weapons, but do not engage them just yet. Keep us under cloak. Helm, back us off a bit. Let the Hydrans get ahead of us first.”
“Safe bet that declaration of war just came out.” Clayton said from Operations.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” McKibben said grimly.
“I’ll be in engineering.” Hayes said, getting up out of his seat while one of his junior officers, Ensign Edward Barents, took his position. McKibben nodded to him as he left.
“Here they come…” Sannek said as on the viewscreen the five Hydran Cruisers zipped right by them without even pausing to see them.
“Weapons fire.” Leger said, he then paled a bit. “They’re all targeting the Courageous.”
“Sonofa…” McKibben breathed as he saw the formation break up as the ships tried to get between the Courageous and the incoming Hydran Cruisers. One, a Saber, managed to get in front of a couple of full salvos. Its shields nearly instantly collapsed and it took hull damage. One of its warp nacelles were hit and it went spinning off into space.
“That was the Veldar” Leger reported as he called out her damage. “The Courageous is reporting near shield collapse as well as the Krotus.
McKibben snarled as he pounded the armrest of his command chair in frustration. “Drop cloak, raise shields, and light those bastards up!” He yelled. “Go to war!”
“With pleasure…” Leger said.
TBC… "De Ja Vu"
Part 5 of 4 (Yeah, it ran a little over budget here! This is also a back post. I had to get Darkstar back to 'real time' since he appeared in the Skipper JP)
Inspired by "ALTERNITY" posted by Dallas. (Alas poor Dallas, I knew him well....)
Previously: After helping to bring down the Hydran Gorn operative, Lt. Commander Darkstar succumbed to his multiple injuries and slipped into a coma. When he awoke, Darkstar found the world a very different place and soon discovered that the universe he was now in had been overrun by the Borg to the point of total assimilation. With the help of Q and an away team from the Federation Remnant Super carrier the USS HOTH, Darkstar lead an away team into the heart of the Borg where he came face to face with the Borg King.... Fderation President John Q Bhrode…
Location: Federation Super Carrier USS HOTH, currently orbiting Borg controlled Earth
Time: Moments after Darkstar’s away team made contact with their objective.
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"On the road that I have taken, one day walking I awaken. Amazed to see where I have come, where I'm going and where I'm from.” - The Book of Counted Sorrows
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Since the dawn of space travel there have been many brave souls who have carved their name into the history books, both famous and infamous.
Pioneers like Archer and Kirk expanded the known universe with each light year they left behind them, making first contact with some of the staunchest allies and most lethal of enemies.
Star Fleet Academy was always filled with bright young cadets eager to become the next great space faring captain in the hopes that their names would someday be spoken next to those of Calhoun, Picard, and Jii – men who were not just explorers, but also defenders of the home front.
Even those with political aspirations of one day ascending onto the upper echelon of the fleet as had to look only at Sisko, Janeway or Price for inspiration.
One name however is as unique to his time as Washington or Roosevelt were to theirs.
John Q Brhode.
Once one of the most controversial officers in all of Starfleet, Brhode’s hard nosed yet effective approach to everything - from his time as the CO of the USS GALAXY to his Admiralty and creative command of the vaunted Olympus Fleet during the Second Triad war – made him the ideal candidate for President of the Federation during a time when the universe was desperately looking for a strong leader to help get them back on their feet.
When the dark cloud of the Borg infested the Federation, entire civilizations were rendered extinct. When the invaders landed on Earth, destroying the very heart of the United Federation of Planets, Bhrode was presumed to be one of the millions of casualties.
For 7 torturous months and despite often painful resistance, the Borg forcibly extracted everything possible about the UFP and their defenses from Bhrode and used the knowledge of the recently assimilated President to deepen the apocalypse that they had wrought until no hope remained.
It was then that resistance intelligence discovered that Bhrode was still alive.
Despite a desperate rescue mission underway, there are those who had believed that they would never see the face of the Federation again.
It was a sentiment echoed now on the Bridge of the USS HOTH…
“We lost visual” Lt. Deandra said from the communications station, mashing switches trying in vain to regain the image on the view screen that had suddenly degraded into nothingness.
“Sensors report that there are Borg converging on the away team now.” Commander Choi announced from the Tactical well. The man went ashen suddenly and turned to the Captain. “Sir, there are hundreds of them.”
“Hoth to away team…” Hoth to away team, can you hear me?” Captain Winters called out.
Communication feed is offline.” Deandra announced.
“Get that back up now." Winters ordered, then turned to his Bajoran First Officer. "Commander Siral, how soon can we deploy the marines?”
“They would be on the ground in 8 minutes.” Siral said.
"Make it so." said the Captain.
“They don’t have eight minutes.” Q stated from where he was leaning against the bulkhead biting his nails. It was a habit he had picked up spending more and more time among humanoids.
"Communication partially restored. Audio feed. Incoming only.” Deandra said.
"On speaker," Winter commanded.
The audible sound of Kane's gattling gun roared on the speaker. A cacophony of destruction unfolded as though it were being directed by the icy hand of death itself. A silence fell upon the bridge as everyone listened to the ships Security Chief battling alongside the rest of the away team.
"Tactical feed onscreen." Choi said taking the initiative and replacing the static onscreen with a 2 dimensional layout of the staging area . Three red blips represented the away team and Bhrode moving rapidly through the complex.
Hundreds of green blips surrounded them as they ran.
"Oh my god." Deandra said.
"Stay with me, everyone." Winter responded and listened as Data’s voice led the away team through what looked like a labyrinth until they reached what was designated as the large conference room.
“They have no where else to go. It’s a dead end.” Q announced.
“Phaser cannon is fried….” Kane could be heard bellowing.
As the swarm of green blips surrounded them, a sound unmistakable to those in the security division or Marines could be heard.
“They are fighting them hand to hand." Choi reported. "Sir, we're going to loose them”
"How much longer until the marines are on soil?"Commander Siral asked.
"2 minutes." said Choi before his readout panel began to blink.
"LIFESIGNS FOR KANE ARE FADING!!!”
Second later Darkstar's hoarse scream could be heard.
“DARKSTAR ALSO IS FADING!!!”
Q bit his lip and closed his eyes.
Blood began to spill from his nose.
Moments later crashing glass could be heard over the speaker.
"Sir…a window…its impossible…..we have a transporter lock!!!" Choi gasped.
"BEAM THEM BACK!!!” Winter ordered looking over at Q who was now on his knees looking at the blood in his hands.
“I'm powerless now.. he whispered”
***** SICKBAY, USS HOTH ********
Raven Darkstar materialized in the middle of the Medical Wing, nanite tubes dangling lifelessly from this throat. The indian's eyes rolled back and he released his grip allowing President Bhrode to fall into the hands of the Borg specialists and medical teams that were waiting to remove his implants.
"Sickbay to Bridge. We have the President!! I repeat we have the President!!" one of the Security officers on standby in sickbay reported.
"AND DARKSTAR...." Winters asked over the comm.
The guard looked at the medical officer who was administrating over the fallen Darkstar. She closed her tricorder and nodded.
"He didn't make it....."
**** USS GALAXY, Present ****
Darkstar struggled to open his eyes.
Modern technology still hadn't progressed to the point that sickbay lighting didn't offend the eyes of anyone laying on a bio bed.
His body ached with a dull throb that he had recognized in the past as being a pain suppressant, although he had never felt its effect as much as he did now.
He looked over at the figure in the chair next to his bed.
"............................."
Even though his mouth moved, words seemed to fail him. Raven focused and with an effort wet his lips.
"ee.....eee......ee..." he tried, barely audiable.
Leo Streely looked over at the bed and seeing the Chief's open eyes, he exploded.
"RAVEN!!!! HEY BUDDY YOUR AWAKE!!! YOUR AWAKE!!!" he shouted wrapping his arms around the Indian, inadvertently sending pain shooting through his mending arm.
"STAY RIGHT HERE!!! ILL GET THE NURSE!!!!" Leo exclaimed and then raced towards the office. "BURTON!! MALGAN!! ANYONE!!! RAVENS AWAKE!!!!"
OOC: Ironiclly enough, over a year ago I did a Christmas Tale about Bhrode where I revealed why he is the hard ass that he is that included Bhrode as the Borg King in the "Brhode Yet to Come" segment where he was being shown this by a quivering hunk of Hirogen meat. "The More Things Change" **Takes place before the arrival of Capt. T’Vara** Lt Chris Daniels, Chief Tactical Officer Combat Information Center Aside from his office, nothing had really changed. Upon his return to the Galaxy, Chris had received word that he was now the real Chief Tactical Officer, a role he had been performing since his arrival anyways, so it didn’t really phase him that much. It had been a day since the notification and he now leaned up against the raised railing overlooking the CIC. In dock, it was quiet, minimum manning and a lot of young people. Good chances for the newbies to get some time behind the consoles and arches that controlled Galaxy’s weapons and defense systems. He quietly observed from his perch for a few minutes and began to make his way to the steps that led down to the control deck. However, before he could get down to the floor, he was intercepted by one of his Admin kids, PO3 Serwalla, and a stuffy looking Commander. “Sir, Commander Terwitz from R&D.” Serwalla introduced him. Chris nodded and extended his hand. “Sir, welcome aboard. What can we do for you?” Terwitz looked out at the floor. “You look like you were about to go do the rounds…mind if I join you?” Chris nodded. The tour of the CIC was uneventful and they retired back into Chris’ semi-unpacked office. Chris went over to his replicator and got two coffees made up, putting one down in front of the Commander before Chris sat down behind his desk. “So I’m guessing you had a hand in designing this complex?” Terwitz nodded. “You know it took us 2 years to get the design and networking down just to get it ready for the Miranda? Once you all proved it was a viable system, they started going in everything bigger than a Nebula class.” Chris nodded. “It’s a great system. The centralized command and control capabilities mean we can process data and implement it into the fight three times faster than we could before. Saved our ass over Romulus.” Terwitz nodded, nearly emotionless. “Seems like you have a knack for being around for all the new technologies.” Chris shrugged. “Just the CIC concept, really…why?” “We have a mission for your department, Lieutenant. R&D recently locked the design for the SGM-132 cruise missile. Unfortunately, Utopia Planetia is dragging their feet on the production of the new Ticonderoga Class Missile Cruisers, so we need a testbed. Galaxy’s it.” Chris sat up in his chair a little bit, a look of concern coming over his face. “With all due respect, sir, Galaxy’s a line ship, with a crew oriented towards operational missions. We’re not exactly equipped or trained for Test and Evaluation.” Terwitz held up his hand, a gesture Chris didn’t particularly like. “We’ll be sending a T and E team to the ship to assist with the tests. Galaxy’s next assignment will keep you off the front line for a few weeks allowing us time to get the proper testing done. This is merely programming and simulation, to ensure the computer systems interface correctly with the pre-existing software. All we want is to install the software, then have you run a few simulated firings. If everything goes well, we can request that the Galaxy remain off the line to allow more tests.” “Sir, has this been brought up with the ship’s commander?” “Due to the nature of the ship’s next mission, this is something that be done without direct diversion of any resources, so we didn’t need CO’s approval.” “Sir, my job is to ensure the combat readiness of this ship. I can’t be jeopardizing that by---“ “Your job, LIEUTENANT, is to follow the orders of those appointed over you. You think you’ve gained some power to turn down projects now that you’re a CTO and have a nice fancy desk on a line vessel? Keep disrespecting me and I’ll make sure you get sent back to rot on Atlantis for a few years. Are there anymore questions or statements?” Terwitz became much more agitated at this point, for reasons that bewildered Chris. His best guess was that this Commander was someone who had become too accustomed to being surrounded by yes-men. “No sir…my department will ensure that this weapons test goes as ordered.” “It had better, Mr. Daniels, or you won’t have to worry about unpacking the rest of this crap. The team arrives in an hour. In addition, they’ll be bringing a test algorithm for your shields.” Terwitz left after that, not saying another word. Chris slumped back in his chair, not sure whether to be angry or worried. But he didn’t have time to finish his thoughts…a message beeped through on his computer. “NEW CO ARRIVING 2300 HRS IN 2 DAYS. ALL DEPT HEADS BE AT MAIN DOCKING PORT IN CLASS A’S.” He sighed… Yup, nothing had changed…
A Broque Fabio Mini-Romance Novel. Starring Broque Fabio: Repairman Engineer
Todays Adventure:
"REPLICATED PASSIONS."
Cassandra's heart beat within her delicate breast, a pounding reminder of her flushed emotions. " 'tis not faire…." she gasped, "Hand rising to steady her swoon head. "I have but moments upon which to eat yon breakfast……only moments before yon morning shift starts….but alas….the replicator is broken."
A single crystal tear trailed its way down her blushing cheeks, falling to rest upon her alabaster bosom. "Alas…..I shall surely swoon for hungers sake tis faire morn….."
It was then in the hour of her darkest need that the voice that moved her very soul cut across the half light of the double-occupancy cabin! "Nay!!! Nay!!! A thousand times nay!" He had come at last….the wild stallion of her hearts desire. Golden hair billowing in the air-conditioning breeze, his massive frame haloed in the doorway by the passageway lights behind him. "Bon giorno amor!" he thundered, his very presence causing her pulse to quicken, and her virtue to weaken. "Behold, for Broque Fabio…..he izz heeeere." He stepped into the light, his billowing uniform tunic torn open to the waist, his bare chest broad as a mustangs, his arms stout like the tree trunks of her misspent youth, and his face hard, like the rocks upon which the ocean of her heart now crashed.
"Oh Broque," she swooned at his feet, "You should not have come……not after how I treated you…..I am no woman for you." His fiery eyes danced like his golden billowing mane. "Zilence! Ze replicator….she iz broken…..and when she iz broken……zhen Broque will always come." His promise echoed within her heaving bosoms, and as she clutched wailing at his muscled leg, she knew at last that she would never again be alone. He had come….he would always come. "Oh Broque…." she began, ruby lips quivvering with a mixture of fear and sudden desire. "Zilence!" he waved his bearlike arm, and averted his chiseled jaw. "Broque iz here to fix. And henceforth Broque will be doing said fixing! "he paused…..uncertainty weighing heavily on his own troubled brow. "Do……do…not try to stop me faire Cassandra."
Pulling himself from her anguished grasp, thundering Broque stood square on with the malfunctioning replicator, his rugged arms slipping down to the massive tool hanging at his belt. "Yon replicator iz heeere to replicate…..a replicate it shall…..so swears Broque!" he tossed his hair in a spray of defiant home maintenance fury. Glistening sweat dotted his bare chest as he pried the ODN access panel loose, and applied his massive tool to the units offending innards. Cassandra watched from afar, her tattered petticoat tossed aside like the chains that once bound her freedom, the top buttons sprung loose from her décolletage, paving way towards the silken treasures within. "Oh Broque…." she hardly dared whisper.
With a flash of light, and a crash of thunder, the deed was done, and stolid Broque whirled from the replicator, his passion for repairing spent. "Ze replicator!….She is Fix-ed mi amor!" And in her heart she knewit was true. For little blinkling diagnostic lights kept beat with her quickend pulse, and a glowing bowl of hot tea steamed into existence….bioling like the molten passion within her breast. "Broque….I…I do not know how to thank thee…." she began reaching up to undo the next few buttons.
"Nay!!!A thouzand times nay!" mountainous Borque turned away from the reward that could never be his. "For Broque….he iz doomed to wander ze lands yes. Doomed to wander while yon Engineering shift remains….." he nodded his beautiful head sadly . "It….it iz my duty."
"Broque no!!!" Cassandra cried, as the man of her fantasies made for the door, escaping like the wild horse that he was. "DO not leave me here!" He graced her with one final glance from the door, "Ze replicator….she was broken, and Broque came to fix-ed it. And now…..for fix-ed she is." He shook his golden hair. "But one day amor….perhaps….just perhaps….she will break again…..and zhen…..Broque will come back."
Alone again with her passion…..Cassandra could only weep for the coming of that far off day.
FINI
This has been a Broque Fabio Romance mini-novel Stay tuned for further adventures on sale soon. "Admiral Akaar" "I'm sorry, sir. The doctors are..." OOC: Okay, at long last… This takes place not long after the badly named 'Surgical Replication' post. Extreme apologies this has taken so long to write, for various reasons. “Faith Manages” Captain Daren M’Kantu – Commander; USS Galaxy ~ ~ ~ USS Galaxy – Operating Theatre ~ ~ ~ “Now… Now we wait.” ~ ~ ~ Later ~ ~ ~ Tiredly rubbing her eyes Kimberly stared again at the hologram of the Captains new spine as it slowly rotated before her. Ever since the operation she had been sat here, napping or going over the results again and again. Each time looking for something new that she might have missed the time before, or looking for a mistake that might have been made. Step by step they had followed the procedure as written; and some would call it a success simply because the Captain was still alive to talk about it afterwards. She had downloaded the entire surgical recording to Starfleet Medical, as well as the three long term care facilities that traditionally dealt with cases such as the Captain, and already had received several calls from them, congratulating her and Watson on what they called an important step in the treatment of severe spinal injuries. For them, that the Captain was still alive was remarkable, but she wanted so much more. “Staring at the data isn’t going to change anything.” Gabrielle said from the open doorway. “I know,” looking up as she drained her coffee Kimberly set the mug aside as she stood. “I’ve been thinking, we should remove the shunt while he’s still asleep, if it’s going to work let’s find out now.” “I concur. Letting his body stabilise while he is asleep would be more beneficial and less stressful to him. If we wait until he is awake and he requires resuscitation once the shunt is deactivated it could cause unnecessary complications.” Following Kimberly the two of them entered the recovery bay set aside for their patient. Inside Arrietty was monitoring the Captain, as she had been since the operation. Having prepared for this so many times in simulation the two needed little conversation, resuscitation equipment was prepared, the crash team was placed on standby outside and emergency support measures were readied. Looking around once they had setup everything they needed Kimberly let out a slow breath, “Ready?” She asked. Now the moment was here she found herself shaking slightly, weeks of work, research and actual surgery boiled down to this moment. “Deactivate the spinal shunt, and then shut down the life support.” Watching as Watson shut down the device Kimberly involuntarily held her breath as the life support machines were then placed on standby. Eyes glued to the monitors she watched as his heart faltered, the automatic mechanisms that powered his body no longer supporting it. As the Captains heart stopped Kimberly felt her own heart skip a beat… The ventilators stopped pumping, and so his lungs deflated and he let out a soft sigh. Kimberly bit her lip and her own lungs started clamouring for more air. She opened her mouth, the words forming to reactivate the life support and summon the crash team. Beep Impossibly loud the tiny sound had echoed through the room, so silent was everyone. Blinking she looked at the monitors, still tightly holding her breath as she hoped… Beep Almost in unison, Kimberly, Arrietty, the entire crash team who were clustered in the doorway and even Watson seemed to exhale explosively as the biobed registered the steady rhythm of the Captains heart as it picked up the beat, free from external support. ~ Thank you! ~ Kimberly silently murmured, adding several prayers to the Goddess as she picked up a tricorder. Looking to Gabrielle she smiled, “Full physical workup, now.” She ordered as she watched his heart and lung functions with relief. “Full autonomic function check. Then we’ll wake the Captain and see how he’s feeling.” Confident that the USS Rumour Mill would spread the word without her she got to work as the crash team talked excitedly outside. Feeling a smile spread across her face she looked to Gabrielle. “Good work.” ~ ~ ~ Time… Flies. ~ ~ ~ “Captain? Captain M’Kantu. Sir, can you hear me?” They’d always had a certain level of confidence in reconnecting the autonomic functions, after all without them there was little point in attempting anything else. With the first hurdle behind them, now came the real test of the operation. “Captain?” Kimberly repeated. They’d administered a light stimulant several moments ago and counteracted the sedatives, so now was the proverbial moment of truth. “Daren, wake up.” She ordered sternly. Daren’s eyes blinked, opened and looked blankly up at the ceiling for a heart-stopping moment before they focused on Kimberly and she saw recognition there. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, and produced a rasping cough. He frowned, tried again, and on the third try, finally said, “You are still not Lieutenant Krieghoff.” “And I’m immeasurably happy not to be him Sir,” Kimberly agreed cheerfully. Picking up a beaker of water from a side table she offered the straw to the Captain as she spoke. “How are you feeling?” After taking a sip gratefully, Daren answered, “Like a section of my spine was sawed out, replaced with a cloned duplicate, and then about a few million nerves were reconnected, Doctor.” He smiled weakly. “Is there a word for that?” “Many words Sir, long complicated and tediously boring. The short and simple version though we’ll get to in a moment.’” Glad his sense of humour was up and running she put the cup down, “Firstly Sir, you’ll be glad to hear you’re no longer on life support, so no more beeps and buzzing in the night to keep you up.” Smiling now she was actually able to deliver good news she looked across the bed to Watson, “from our scans it appears your autonomic functions are working well.” “We still have a few scans and tests to run,” Gabrielle added, “but the life support shouldn’t be needed anymore.” “It’s nice to wake up to good news,” Daren replied, his voice still somewhat hoarse, “you said firstly? Is there more?” Here was where the question mark still reared its ugly head; still, they had exceeded the wildest expectations of many by simply keeping him alive. Miracle time. “Secondly… Well Sir, that depends…” Gently picking up M’Kantu’s hand Kimberly squeezed slowly. From his recumbent position Daren had been slowly picking up on little things, a tingling here, an itch there, almost like the phantom feelings he had experienced while restrained and on life support. He could feel his lungs now though, filling with air and the exhalation that followed, a sensation he found he had missed. His heart beat, another feeling he had missed, now reassuringly there and comfortably steady. The sudden sensation of the Doctors hand holding his was almost a shock. Ever since the attack he had spent a lot of time asleep, but when he had been awake the lack of feeling had been disconcerting to say the least. Now though, the gentle touch seemed like the sun rising on a warm day. Smiling Daren gently turned his head experimentally to face her, the simple movement once taken for granted not felt so liberating. As he returned the grip though, instead of the gentle squeeze he had intended his hand twitched and slipped from her grasp. Though he kept it from falling back to the bed the tremor continued for a moment despite his best effort. Frowning he stared at his hand, willing it to steady itself. “Don’t push yourself,” Gabrielle suggested, “your body has been through a tremendous amount recently. If you feel up to it, it would be helpful to run through a few physical and neurological tests so we can ascertain how you’re doing.” Letting his hand slip back onto the bed Daren nodded slightly, “By all means Doctor.” Clenching his fingers once or twice experimentally he felt his hand twitch again unexpectedly. Looking down his body to his feet he watched his toes as he flexed them, reassured somewhat that they too responded to his commands. “And ladies,” he said suddenly, interrupting them as they stepped aside to talk. “Thank you.” It seemed such a trivial thing to say considering what had been accomplished. “You’re welcome Captain.” Kimberly replied sincerely. She could have said the obvious, ‘just doing my job sir’ and been extremely modest about everything, but that just didn’t seem the right answer today. … “Don’t look so down.” Gabrielle admonished her new boss, “We’ve practically performed the impossible here. Most everyone I consulted expected him to come out of the theatre dead or the same as he went in. The mere fact he’s breathing on his own is a major improvement, and that he has a measure of motor control as well is nothing short of miraculous.” “I know!” Kimberly snapped as she read the PADD again, “It’s just…” letting her voice trail off she studied the test results again, each line only serving to deepen her mood as she realised what she was going to have to do next. “It’s not like we didn’t anticipate the need for therapy and rehabilitation after,” Gabrielle reminded her, “the mere fact he ‘needs’ it should be cheering you up.” Looking across sickbay to where the Captain rested Kimberly sighed, she was right, that he needed recuperation time was in itself a good thing, there was room for improvement. Right now though his coordination, reaction time, frell, even his ability to walk and hold a glass of water was extremely compromised. He was going to have to relearn how to do many simple things all over again. And this was going to entail many months of long and arduous physical therapy. When he had been brought down to sickbay she had been adamant that he was only leaving if it was on his own two feet. Now it looked like she wasn’t going to be able to keep that self made promise. One day he should be able to walk back to sickbay, but that day was some time in the future. And there was no way they could continue his long term therapy aboard. He would need twenty four hour care and assistance for some time, and though she had an excellent medical team, their dedicated therapy staff was quite small and they had other work as well. Long term care and therapy of this nature wasn’t something they were set up to cater for. “Do you want me to tell him?” Gabrielle offered. “No.” Dropping the PADD carelessly onto a pile on the floor Kimberly stepped out of her office, “that’s my job.” Though in one sense it was good news, yes he needed time and yes there was a chance he would be fine, one day. But how do you tell a Captain that he had to give up command, give up his ship. How do you break it to him that he was no longer fit for duty, and that you were the person declaring him unfit for duty. She couldn’t even comfort him with the thought that he would definitely be back one day, his return would depend on his recovery. And that was something she couldn’t predict. ~ We just have to have faith. ~ She reminded herself as she stepped into the Captains room. ~ Faith manages. ~ "Not So Much of a Charm" Lt Chris Daniels Various CIC staffers Combat Information Center “Target coordinates entered.” “Tube Loaded.” “Warhead armed.” “All stations green?” “Targeting green.” “Weapons Control Green.” “Launcher green.” “TSO green.” “All stations report green and ready to fire, sir.” Silently, Chris nodded. He turned to the Lieutenant next to him who returned his nod, and then finally, the Tactical Officer spoke. “Fire.” The well rehearsed sequence was completed in just under one minute. Unfortunately, this was not one of the drills that Chris was performing for proficiency purposes. The day’s drill was part of the SGM-132 test program…the third iteration of the same firing sequence. For the last two days, Galaxy’s tactical staff, in conjunction with a program team from Tactical R&D, had been working out the kinks of all the new hard- and software associated with any new weapons system. Previously, they had been conducting rather simple part-task operations; where one of more parts of the whole process was individually tested to ensure that everything worked. Up until about 8 hours ago, it had seemed as though the -132 had been immaculately designed. Then came the first “Level 2 dry-fire” exercise. Basically, the CIC would simulate a red-alert condition, short of actually energizing the shields, powering up the phaser batteries and loading the torpedo tubes, however everything up to that point was in full combat configuration. They were taking the SGM-132—a weapon used very differently than a torpedo—and sending it through a full up firing sequence. Unfortunately, the last two times, upon depressing the trigger, all hell had broken loose. Fixes had been attempted after each failed iteration, and after number two, blame was starting to be aimed between the Galaxy’s crew and their R&D counterparts. After Chris gave his order to fire, he looked over at his triggerman for the day, LtJG Davis Hadreson. Hadreson pushed the trigger key on his console and they all held their breath. LAUNCH ABORT—INVALID LAUNCH COORDINATES The messages flashed on the test station’s screen in a dark red that seemed to mock them. The frustration was evident on the faces of all concerned. Chris let out a low groan and leaned back with his hands locked behind his head. The project officer next to him didn’t have a much better reaction. What the hell was wrong with this thing? Sadly, Chris had a bigger problem on his hands…as evidenced by the bickering he was picking up on. “I thought you fixed the warhead sequence fault!?” “I did, your piece of garbage launch algorithm is what keeps frakking up!” “Your targeting computer sucks! How do you fight with this thing?” “It was fine until you all showed up with your half-assed program software!” It was getting loud, and very quickly uncontrollable. Chris looked over at the project officer, LT Daylen Maret. Maret was a good guy, slightly older than Chris, and they had developed a pretty good working relationship since coming aboard. Daylen shook his head. “This one’s all yours man.” Chris nodded and took a deep breath. “Hey! Quiet!” Rather quickly, the din disappeared from the CIC. He looked around the room, where now all the eyes were locked on him. “Bickering’s not going to get us anywhere. This isn’t any one person’s fault, and the next person who accuses another of being the reason this test isn’t going as planned is getting a swift boot in the ass. You all are working on this as a team, not one group against the other. We’re done for the day. I want you all to go back to your quarters and think about today. Come back tomorrow with ideas for solutions, not about whose computer is causing this to crash. Now shut down the drill, reset the CIC to normal operations and then get out of here.” Chris exhaled. Hopefully he had put that fire out. **** Once all the test crew had left the CIC, Chris and Daylen settled down for a synth-beer in Chris’ office. “Fake booze?” Chris pointed at the clock. “I’m still on duty…the real stuff gets broken out later.” He replied softly as he took a swig. “So what do you think?” “I think the on the fly modifications we’ve had to make to Galaxy’s computer throughout the years and the incredibly hardcore coding you guys tried to introduce into our targeting systems aren’t jiving at all. And until we can come up with a solution, this test isn’t going anywhere.” Chris sat back in his chair, resting his beer in his lap. “Agreed. See, this is why I told them I didn’t want a straight off the line ship for the test…not that doing what you have to is a bad thing, but it’s not the best environment for such a first try test.” Daylen said snarkily, showing that he was as unhappy about the circumstances surrounding their situation as Chris was. Chris shook his head. “I see you argument went about as well as mine did.” He took another swig. “What are your feelings about suspending test operations?” “For good??” Daylen nearly choked on his beer, a look of fright coming over his face. “No no no…I want to put a pause on this and get some outside help. Galaxy’s computer people probably have a hell of a lot better idea of what’s going on inside the targeting system’s processors than any of our guys do…yours aren’t experienced with it, and my guys don’t focus on the ones and zeroes stuff. They may be able to find a fix that’s easier and quicker than we can. Plus, I think that a day or two off might help ease the tensions we saw out there.” Daylen thought it over for a minute. “That might not be a bad idea…I don’t think any of those guys can take another day of having their work result in the red screen of failure.” Chris nodded. “Well, thankfully, we can push the reset button and get everything back.” He turned his attention to the communication console on his desk. “Yeah. What’d be left if that thing actually crapped out?” Chris looked at him with wide, cynical eyes. “Prayer?” He tapped a button to open the comm channel to OPS. Sadly, he was only half kidding about the prayer comment. "More like 'Disco Inferno'!"
1st Lieutenant Branwen London Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
***Location, Altroth III, Prison Facility***
This was it, the 'home straight' the end zone was in sight, that beautiful red ribbon fluttered in the breeze before them and they could almost taste victory, taste freedom, taste a hot shower, a week of LOA, clean clothes, a romance novel and chocolate, lots and lots of mouth watering creamy milk chocolate…
'Almost' being the operative word.
It was like all fantasies; it tantalized you with its realism, made you wet with anticipation, whispered to you over and over again that all you had to do was believe in yourself and you could have your cake and eat it, and then at the last minute like a cock-teasing temptress it pushed you off, pulled up it's panties, kissed you goodnight on the cheek and trotted out in its high heals to hail a taxi!
The display on Dhanishtas HUD was blinking so rapidly that she felt she might have an epileptic seizure, on the plus side however with some great music she could pretend that she was at 'The launch Pad' pole dancing under strobe lighting during a 'millennium' theme night, ~humm~ she sighed, ~those were the days!~ Anywhere was better than here, right?
For the moment they were held up in an intersection. To the right was the advancing troop of Butt-Ugly's hell bent on 'shoot to kill'. To the left, down the hall and through the door was another cell block, and behind them was a trail of destruction that she was sure would have made Baile and For'kel proud – seeing as ya know this was the 'non marine' bunch of the rescue team… the 'fleeters'… ooooooh how Dhanishta was going to love rubbing that one in… at a much later date of course, she decided firmly as Victor pulled out his pocket rocket and made a mess on the floor… and the ceiling… and the floor of the room three blocks down!
"Clear?" Dhani asked somewhat dryly as she stood.
"That," Victor observed with a frown, as parts of the ceiling collapse spread out, more material falling like concrete rain, "was not supposed to happen. Whoever handled the contracting for this installation needs to be brought up on charges; there're worse than cut corners, they did it sloppily."
"Uh-huh," Dhanishta nodded and shrugged.
He banished the Tetryon pulse weapon back to the storage buffer and recalled the standard-issue phaser rifle. "Or we could just find out who they were and send them a check - your call," he finished.
Dhanishta mocked being torn with indecision, she really didn't have a point of view on that one and thought for a moment how Max would have bantered, she wasn't sure if he was upset that she didn't, Victor wasn't the easiest of people to read, and she could remember a time when he never made invites to jest. After a moment to to-ing and fro-ing she settled on a shrug. With still a full row of cells to break open and desperate women to save, along with a growing collective behind, that were literally tethered to each other to stay alive… the reports had said a few dozen prisoners and like fools they had believed that. A simple operation 'he'd' said. We get in; we take out the power, save everyone and get out, 'he'd' said. Simple as that, 'he'd' said… yeah right! Right now it was two to a re-breather and in about ten seconds it was going to be four. Imagine them on the run, across the terrain that they had endured to get here!
Dhanishta shook her head and counted to ten. While the engineer wanted to scream, panic and run for her life, the trained marine within preached decorum. It was 'as simple as that', all she had to do was remain calm, none of this girlish screaming shit, and they would be fine. There was always a way out – 'see the solution rather than the problem'.
Dhanishta cringed, proverbs was not the most comforting of things right now. Hastily opening up the control box she used her primary skills for a change and re-routed the circuitry to open the door.
"Club your butts," Dhanishta said unsheathing her knife.
This was where the fun began, or rather a game of Russian roulette. They'd had the element of surprise when they had entered the facility and they had kept that up until Victor had 'opened' Branwen's cell door. After that they had been advantageous in the fact that their enemy was caught with its best pants down, on the crapper with the Sunday's edition of the Times, which, lets face it, is about the size of a novel now with all the 'weekend' extras, and had spent the first ten minuets, after the fleeter's had rung the chime, shouted into the camera and blown raspberry's on the frosted tripolymer coated door, running around with half a roll of 'Kimberly Clarke' stuck between their cheeks!
But yes, this is where the fun began, for as soon as they opened those cell doors to retrieve the last group of women prisons, the oxygen atmosphere contained within would immediately mix with the methane atmosphere in the corridor and…..
Victor ran another scan, and frowned at the results. "There are more of them than we planned for," he warned. "Watch out for someone not acting like the others; there may be a plant in with them if they had one handy."
Dhani nodded, "Let's haul em out," she shouted into her mic.
Once more it was like a cattle market; disorientated, emaciated, weak and confused women ambled around without any direction or concept of what was going on around them. Like clouds of smoke they drifted one way and then the next, rebounding off each other to then turn and try the other way. It was infuriating yet all Dhanishta could think about was how fitting it was to let out a long drawn out 'moooooooooo'!
Victor ran over-watch as Dhani and Bran pulled woman after woman out of the cells, shaking his head as the number kept increasing. This was going to be more than merely a pain in the ass herding and caring for all the women, it was rapidly approaching something of epic proportions.
As Bran took point, leading the distort and Victor created as many obstacles for their enemy as he could without using his pocket rocket, Dhanishta worked on the next door that would hopefully lead them out of the rabbit hole and back through the looking glass to the green, green grass of home.
"Everything going all right Dhani?" Victor asked as he divided his attention between the women and his physical surroundings and the sensor scans. There were at least three groups of Hydran showing on the scan on this level and more coming, and he needed to keep up with all of them.
"Yeah," Dhani yelled back. There really was no need to yell, the suit's had a com system and mic's, but the drama that unfolded before them, the sense of urgency and the palpable danger seemed to disconnect that rational part of her mind. Everything was now, everything was harsh and everything just had to be loud!
"Watch forward, Dhani," he cautioned, starting towards the back, even though he had to push his way past the milling women.
There was a strange mix of feelings as Dhanishta stood by the open door, watching as everybody scrambled for the exit. Their faces held haunted harrowing looks, tormented by what had been done to them, yet even so a warm nugget of gratitude spilled forth every time she locked eyes with one of them. It was like she was a priest standing by the church door on a Sunday morning, obliged to stay and thank everyone for coming and rejoicing in a union of faith, each one of them wanted to touch her, to thank her, to make any sort of contact that they possibly could, yet all Dhanishta wanted to do was shove them through the door. They had no time for lingering moments of silence that conveyed their heart felt thanks but their reactions as she stared back with hollow blank eyes that hid her contempt for how long they took to move seemed to penetrate them with more agony than the incarceration alone.
She turned her gaze from them and stared down the corridor, darting her eyes between the crowd impatiently waiting for the throng to dissipate.
And it was then that she saw them, moving faster than she thought possible with three appendages.
~Shit!~
"MOVE IT, LET'S GO!" Dhanishta shouted as she forced her way through the crowd and back towards Victor who was bringing up the rear.
"I see them," Victor said, dropping his phaser rifle to be recalled as he stepped forward and smashed the first Hydran around the corner with a booted foot and a grunt from the effort needed to knock a tripedal creature off its center of balance, driving the alien back, off its feet and into the ones behind it. He followed up with a shoulder rush into the ones that didn't fall from impact with the first one.
"There's too many," he called out as alien hands reached for him and he stomped on them to buy time. "Get them out of here and close the first door you can get through - I'm going to have to light them up!"
Dhani slid to a stop, turned round and sprinted as fast as she could back to the door.
~He's fuckin' insane!~
Victor jerked himself free of the grasping hands, and took a step back to get some space as the Hydrans he'd knocked down started to scramble back to their feets. There were too many Hydrans, with too many tri-fingered hands reaching for him, and the initial surprise he'd achieved wasn't going to help him for much longer. Once they got to their feet, he was going to be the one on the ground - and he couldn't permit that. Which left just one thing to do: providing that he could last until Dhani and the rest got through a door. He threw out a hand and called the rifle back, glad that Starfleet had finally listened to complaints and reinforced the damn things so it would withstand the abuse he was going to put it through before he pulled the trigger and set the world on fire.
Dhanishta hit the frame of the door, rounded it and slid to the floor, scrambling to her feet she kept her left hand gripped round the door and the other prepped on the frame, ready to push the bastard closed as fast as she could. Craning her neck she frantically searched the faces for Branwens, "Get them out of here NOW," she yelled as eye contact was established.
Waiting a beat until she could feel the movement of the women she turned sharply to look down the corridor and balked in horror.
"VICTOR!" she screamed as she watched his shadowed figure over-run by Hydrans. She lurched forward, desperate to help him but his tone stopped her.
"RUN," he called out as he slammed it into the head of a Hydran like a club, and reversed it to jab another in one eye with the barrel. He hoped that the women would be clear in time.
~Holy shit~ Dhani cringed as she took one last lingering look at him. Her heart pounded in her chest and silently she prayed to anyone that was listening that some god would be willing to let a soul like him pass through the pearly gates to wherever it was that would let him rest in peace.
As Victor lost himself in the struggle to stay on his feet and keep the Hydrans from getting past him, he felt a familiar feeling slip over him, and granted his assent as his inner self slipped up out of the darkness inside him and flowed into him, filling him, making him what it was that he had been born to be.
With her heart in her throat Dhani heaved the door closed. Her head hung with shame, moisture gathered in her eyes and she felt her chest swell. She had just trapped Victor with the enemy…
TBC… "When the Camera says Cheddar, say CHEESE!"
1st Lieutenant Branwen London Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell, EMRT Gral'mev Gro'kle, Hydran Prison Physician
***Location, Altroth III, Prison Facility***
Gro’kle’s Lab
Mere moments after Max had left the rescue group...
The first thing Gro'kle noticed was that there was a figure in some kind of battle armor suddenly in his research lab.
The next thing the Hydran Physician noted was that his guards were being dropped systematically with lethal phaser rifle shots fired in rapid succession.
Finally, he felt a sudden force propel him back towards a wall which he slammed against and slid to the ground with a sick looking trail denoting how far up the wall he actually was.
Benedict Maxwell, Paramedic Practitioner, Emergency Medical Response Teams leader... and novice spy, performed an apparent sweep of the lab and then proceeded to a terminal.
A tether appeared from a data device on his right forearm whose connective end shifted shape to accommodate the terminal connection.
Gro'kle watched in horror as this intruder began downloading information from his personal database. His information… his research... He tried to get up, but found it very hard to move. He was injured somehow. He began blorping and squealing in his native language, which Max filtered out by tuning off his audio input.
Finally, with the information completely downloaded, Max glanced in the doctor's direction, made a threatening gesture with his rifle and left without a word.
Gro'kle finally managed to make his way to the terminal afterwards and pulled himself up.
***
Holding Cells
Victor smiled suddenly, and laughed as he swung the clubbed rifle, his arms lighter than they'd been a moment before, the rifle; a feather in his hands. He was Death come to call, and he had so much to say to his opponents that he hoped that they wouldn't die before he was done.
As three more Hydrans joined the pack that was surrounding Victor, all of them now hacking and wheezing, their normal emerald hue turning a bit gray from effects of the increased oxygen that continued to pour from the prisoner's cells into the corridor, Death smiled.
It was time.
"Sorry, I can't stay," it called out cheerfully as it hammered the butt of the rifle into a Hydran's knee and tipped it over, "but there are things to do, people to kill and all that."
It released the rifle, smiled again as the weapon vanished back into the buffer, and held up its right hand in a halting gesture that, amazingly, stopped the Hydrans in their tracks for an instant in confusion.
"Everyone watch the birdie," it offered to the crowded hallway… and snapped its fingers.
A flare of green flame flashed in its hand, and then expanded with a roar as the methane-oxygen mixture in the corridor caught fire and the world went up in white flame.
The fire ball that erupted as Victor touched off the atmosphere mixture was incredible, shaking the building with its force. As Dhani braced the door she'd gotten closed with her shoulder, fighting against the pressure of the flames, a heavy weight slammed into it, knocking her back and away from the door, which flew open as she sprawled out on the floor. A wash of flame seared over her head, and something large and smoking slammed into the wall to her left and a few meters down the hallway. Before the flame continued further, an emergency door slammed down and suppressant foam blanketed everything in sight.
A soft laugh came from the smoking, foam-covered shape, and something said in a cheerful voice that wasn't quite Victor's, "Someone ordered Kentucky Fried Hydran to go? Well… they're gone!"
There was a delayed pause, a silence that seemed to extend for far too long. And then Dhanishta's head bounced against the charred wall, her mouth opened and a raucous laughter tumbled out from the pit of her stomach, warbled through her throat, vibrated her tonsils, rippled over her tongue, caused her eyes to stream and her abdomen to ach, but she couldn't stop.
“Have I mentioned,” not-Victor noted from underneath the foam, “how nice it is to have an appreciative audience – especially one that isn’t screaming all the time?”
Winded and slightly dazed Dhani had to nudge her helmet back into place before she had a clear line of sight. From beneath her blackened visor two dark green orbs sparkled. The overwhelming feeling of relief was amazing, it was better than sex, better than chocolate – even better than that first cup of hot morning coffee. She turned to Victor with a Cheshire cat grin and beamed, "That was awesome!"
“I certainly won’t disagree with you,” came the cheerful reply. “Especially the blast wave – those are always a lot of fun. So unpredictable, so random. Marvelous, just marvelous!”
Shakily Dhani attempted to get up, the adrenaline shot her blood stream had just been diluted with was rapidly wearing off, mentally she knew that they still had a stretch to go but her body wasn't having any of it. Everything ached, she could hear her bones creaking, feel the grating in her knees as she pushed herself from the floor, grasping the wall for support as if she had suckers on her palms – which of course she didn't, which made it all that much harder to get up. There was a full minute of slipping and sliding like a foam-covered child’s toy trying to right itself, all accompanied by not-Victor’s not helpful laughter, before she managed it.
The laughter continued for a few more seconds, and then, like some primordial creature emerging from the depths of the earth, Victor stood up and let the foam slough off of him. He shook himself once, looked around and nodded to Dhani. "You all right?" he asked; his voice normal again.
Dhanishta nodded, "Can we do that again?" she asked, dusting down her pants.
“Maybe later,” he suggested. “All play and no work makes Jack a dull boy and all that.” He shrugged as he moved towards the exit. “Of course, neither of us is, to my knowledge, named ‘Jack.’”
She wasn't sure if the sun was rising or whether she had the mother of all sun spots clouding her vision but the feeling as they emerged from the building to join Bran and the ex-prisoners was as welcome as the dawn ever was. Her thighs hurt, her tendons felt taught and her lungs burned, but they had all made it out alive. And there was not a tripod to be seen. Collapsing against a tree in a moment of sheer selfishness Dhani took a moment to close her eyes and breathe. In and out, in and out, relaxing breaths. It was a mission to stay calm and not let herself gush giddily, they may be out but they still had to get off this rock!
"You got any word from above?" Dhani asked Victor as she scanned for any more hostiles between here and their rendezvous/pick up point, "I'm just getting static," she informed him re-tuning the frequency of her com unit.
“Not unexpected,” he replied. “The Hydrans probably turned every jammer on the planet on as soon as they realized that there was a problem. I’d have done it in there place, anyway, so there’s no reason to assume that they didn’t. Once we get to the pickup zone, we’ll try again. If we still can’t get a signal out, then we’ll go to the backup plan and use the signaling laser I brought for an emergency like this. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll make a catapult and throw the rescuees up into the ship’s landing bay manually if I have to; no one gets left behind to face this again. No one.”
The walk back was slow and uneventful, except for the exchanging of re-breathers between the women. A sense of un-fulfillment filled the engineer as she trudged through the undergrowth. Meer seconds ago she felt alight with their victory, yet now the journey was almost over, the end zone was really and truly in sight – in fact she thought she could see someone up ahead – yet that glimpse sighting filled her with more melancholy. Her heart had been racing her head had been full of possibilities – and hastily rehearsed explanations for the inevitable fuck ups, of which there had been non – but now she felt as if something was missing… something within her was, empty?
Branwen at this point was more therapist than marine. She had her hands full keeping the other females calm. Right now she wished she had someone sedatives with her, to keep them docile. With the first shock wearing off, many women were beginning to cry and scream. It was a natural reaction, some of them had been here for months or years hand had forgotten most of their military training. Others were starting to get angry and demanding weapons. Branwen was not going to give them to them if she was not sure they had a clear head. Half crazy traumatized people could just as easily start to shoot up their own.
Dhanishta cast an eye around the group and marveled at Branwen. The woman had been locked up for weeks, had all sorts done to her yet she still cared more for others than herself. There she was walking amongst her fellow prisoners, taking charge, making sure they were all alright taking their names, listening to their stories, offering her shoulder to cry upon anything and everything to lighten their loads, totally selflessly. But it wasn't, not totally.
Dhanishta could see the hidden agenda behind the 'I'm alright' mask Branwen wore. But she could see more than that, more than a battered woman pining for anything else but herself to think about. Dhani could see the light that filtered through Bran’s vision and it was no longer tainted pink. It had all the colorings of harsh, cold and unyielding realism.
Innocence was lost. And that fact made Dhani angry. Of all the things to take, of all the atrocities that could be committed to the body and mind, those bastards had to take her soul?
Dhanishta’s eyes flickered back towards the facility. They hadn't finished, not by a long shot.
****
Pick-up Point
"I'll be right back," Victor told Dhani and the others as they clustered at the holding point where Max was to meet them. "Max is on his way – I can see his transponder coming back. Wait here for me unless you detect troops coming, in which case you haul your rears out of here to the retrieval zone. Clear?"
Dhani simply nodded. Her eyes were focused on something in the distance, her mind inundated with voices not her own, thoughts not her own yet with desires that mirrored every voice within: retribution.
“I’ve left the signaling laser with this woman,” Victor pointed at a severe-faced Romulan, whose, he suddenly realized, starvation-enhanced gauntness made her look like an ascetic monk from the Vulcan that Chulak had been born to. “She assures me that she can operate it if needs be.”
"Where are you going…?" one of the women, a scared young Tellarite, started to ask.
"I," Victor replied before she could finish, "have to see a doctor for a minute."
Dhanishta's ears pricked up like wet fur on a wet cat. She turned her face towards his, yet her focus fell short. She stared at him for a long moment, her jaw dropping ever so slightly, almost mesmerized by the notion that filled her head.
He'd already left when she turned to Branwen and stared at the marine with dark coals of ebony.
"I won't be long…" was all 'Harvey' said.
****
Pick-up Point, 27 minutes later
"I figured you guys would be gone by now," Max quipped lightly. He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown with what he had just done, and the - to him – extremely long wait for Dhani and Victor to catch up, but still managed to keep his composure. "Where's Vic?"
"Behind me," Dhani replied coldly.
Max turned around and saw the Security Officer approaching. "It's about time, I was ready to go. Dinner's getting cold."
"Can't have that," Victor returned, apparently oblivious to the Hydran circulatory fluid that decorated his hazard team uniform like he’d wallowed in it. "Everyone in the first load already gone?" He looked around, shifting his position so that Dhani was always in his field of vision as he did so, rather than simply turning his head.
"The first group has already gone, as has the second and third," replied the Romulan woman he’d left the signaling laser with curtly. He noted that she’d stripped it and reconfigured the power output to make a crude but serviceable weapon. Her right eye was swollen and bruised, split veins dappled her grey cheeks and her dry, chapped, cracked lips oozed small droplets of blood as she spoke. "We are the last," she indicated several others huddled in the shadows near by.
‘Then let’s get you out of here,” Victor said quietly. “Signal for the final pickup, Max, and get us out of here.” He called up the last unused item in his storage buffer – a demolitions charge with a proximity fuse – and set it to arm as soon as the transport effect had faded. “I’ve got the parting gift all ready.”
As the wash of the enhanced transporter took them all away, Victor remembered another planet and how it had looked as he’d destroyed it – and found within himself a touch of sadness that he couldn’t visit upon this world the same fate. The thought brought a smile to his face that was still there, as his removed his helmet aboard ship, making people back away from him. Perhaps he would be back this way again – and if so, then he might well pay another visit and see how this would looked as it burst asunder under the attentions of the Destroyer of Worlds. "Happy never After" Part One 1st Lieutenant Branwen London Captain Man'darr Mavia Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell ***Location: Medical Bay, SFMC Controlled Hydran Vessel, en rout to USS Galaxy***
Man'darr stepped into Sickbay. His body was sore and bruised in some areas from his fight with Hydran guards during the rescue. The sight of Branwen both sickened and angered Man'darr. He strode up to her as she lay on a bio bed. "What happened? What did they do to you?" Man'darr demanded in a stern tone.
"It is nice to see you as well." She snapped. And she was hurt by the expression on his face; there was no love or compassion there.
"I am glad you are alright, Branwen, but I want to know what they did to you and why they did this," he explained, forcing himself to be calmer.
She looked up at him breathing slowly through the device. "Tell me something, Dar. How serious do you take a marriage vows, will you stand by me no matter what, because our love is stronger than anything that can happen to us?"
"I take the vows seriously... now what did they do to you?"
"They changed me genetically, that's why am green and I cannot breathe oxygen anymore." Still she could not tell him everything, it was too much.
"Will the doctors be able to fix the changes?"
"I don't know, you will have to ask Max." She lowered her head, really not wanting to say there was more.
Man'darr sighed, knowing Branwen was keeping something from him. He then looked around and soon spotted the Medical technician. "Excuse me. Mind telling me the specifics of her injuries and if they can be corrected?"
Max was just about to go find lunch when he was accosted by the Capellan. He really hated having to wait to eat. But looking at Branwen and her... condition, he felt a pang of pain for her.
"As long as she authorizes me to do so. Health information and regs," he added sarcastically with a wink. Realistically, he truly could not release information about another patient without their authorization, unless there were extenuating circumstances or a threat to the ship and/or crew. Besides, he really didn't like Man'darr right about now. He didn't forget what the bastard did to Branwen before the mission.
Branwen gave Max a grateful look, but she could not hide it forever. "Tell him, Max. You can explain it better than me."
Stopping and taking a deep breath, he abandoned all hope of finding lunch and approached the couple. He nodded at Branwen before he began his oration. "From what scans I've been able to make sense of, your DNA has somehow been augmented or supplemented with Hydran or Hydran sympathetic DNA." He quickly stepped to a nearby monitor and pulled up the scans he had made earlier. He wished he understood more of what he was seeing, but it had been years since he studied genetic medicine.
"They've changed her just enough for what their apparent purposes were. She can breathe methane, a slight change in her diet that her body can physically tolerate; her skin pigmentation and the increased surface moisture are actually byproducts as they do not specifically serve the purposes of her primary condition."
"And what is that condition?" Man'darr asked with crossed arms.
"The condition that she is pregnant."
Man'darr's eyes widened with shock and hatred. "What? Pregnant?!" Man'darr spun to face Branwen. "How soon before that... thing, inside of her is killed?"
"I'm sorry - what did you just say," Max asked indignantly. "What do you mean killed?"
Man'darr turned back towards the petty officer, looking down at him. "I said when will that monstrosity within her will be killed and thrown out the nearest airlock like the piece of bio-degradable garbage it is!" Man'darr was furious now as he spun towards Branwen. He could not believe she had allowed such a thing to happen to her--and worse yet, she shamed him by being alive with the thing still within her--a shame that now burned every cell within his body. A capellan woman would have, without hesitation, taken her own life in such an event.
"Ah, yeah here's the thing, Man-drake," Max replied, sliding one foot slightly to the rear and keeping his feet at shoulder length. He was wishing hard that someone else was here. He was certain that he wasn't walking out of this one without at least a broken arm. "Number one, that's her decision to make, not yours. Number two, you're making a bit too much noise in my Sickbay. Simmer down before I have to turn your volume down, son."
"The name is Man'darr, and Captain Maivia to you, petty officer! And take your pointless threats elsewhere petty officer! Am I understood?!" Man'darr's voice resounded throughout the medical bay. "Now, Lieutenant London, why is that thing inside of you, not yet dead and removed from you?!"
Branwen cringed on the bed. "Dar, please don't look at me that way. Max, please don't leave." Right now she was afraid of her own husband. "When they had first done it, I tried; I tried to kill myself or the babies. But they put something in my collar that made it impossible, together with some psychological imprinting in my brain. I could not." She swallowed. "Then I began to realize its life, and killing myself, or my babies is a mortal sin. I would go to hell. I can't do it." She whispered.
"There you go with your stupid beliefs again! It is a dishonor to keep such a monstrosity within you! Not only is it a dishonor to you but to me as well!" Man'darr wanted nothing more than to rip the thing out of Branwen, yet knew better.
"Why do I have to give up my beliefs? Whatever this is, its life, and I'm not going to take it. And it has nothing to do with you." She looked fearfully to see if Max was still there.
"It is not life! It is a monstrosity! So far, this marriage has been all about your ignorant, backwards religion! The marriage ceremony was in your tradition! Now you wish to keep that thing inside of you because of your religion!" Rage consumed Man'darr as in an instant, his fist smashed into a nearby monitor, sending a shower of sparks across the medical bay, leaving only a mangled mess of smoldering wires where the monitor had been.
Branwen scrambled out of bed and hid behind it, afraid of her own husband. "I asked you about the ceremony, you said you didn't mind. I wanted to do two, so you would be happy as well. I can't kill a child, Dar, religion or not, I just can't. Children are innocents; they have a right to life."
Man'darr glared at Branwen, too angry to care that he was scaring her. "That thing inside you is not innocent! It is not life! I will not allow your selfish actions to shame me further! In my eyes, you are not my wife!" he said as he turned to leave before he ended up killing Branwen and the brave, but foolish petty officer.
"Hey, you gonna pay for that monitor, guy?" Max called after him. "Or do I have to send Krieghoff after you? Hey I'm talking to you!" In truth, Max was stunned when the Capellan had smashed the piece of equipment with his bare fist and not even flinched. Somewhere in his mind the word Steroids was flashing in large neon letters. Now he was angry with himself for being pretty much scared into inaction and planned on remedying the situation. He took a fateful step towards the retreating war machine.
"Max don't!" Bran was still hiding. "He'll kill you!"
TBC… "Happy never After" Part Two 1st Lieutenant Branwen London Captain Man'darr Mavia Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell ***Location: Medical Bay, SFMC Controlled Hydran Vessel, en rout to USS Galaxy***
Max wasn't listening. Maybe it was the death wish he had a tendency to give an audience to from time to time, maybe it was just foolhardy chivalry. Or maybe he was just itching for a fight against someone he truly could not stand, just one chance to smack the taste outta some scum's mouth. He took another step closer. All he saw still was the Capellan's back at him. And that made him mad.
"Do you hear me, Capellan? I am talking to you!"
Man'darr spun immediately on his heel, glaring down at this medical petty officer. "Do you have a death wish, human?! Do not challenge me! It would be a futile and foolish attempt on your part! Now what is it that you want?!"
Max quickly closed the distance between himself and Man'darr, but in the act of striking. Instead, he positioned himself mere inches from the Marine. Now that he had the angry man's attention, he did something somewhat unusual: he smiled.
"I said," Max answered in his infamous slightly sarcastic tone, "who's gonna pay for the monitor you just smashed, Mr. Incredible Hulk? You think walking around this ship saying 'Hulk Smash' and breaking things will make anyone scared of you?"
"You're really pathetic, you know that? Something doesn't go your way or something you don't understand, you beat your chest like some primal savage and break, stomp, mangle or kill to your satisfaction." Max turned towards Branwen and pointed for emphasis. "That is your wife, Man'darr. Do you hear me? Your wife! Hasn't she been through enough without you adding to her own personal pain? Have you any fucking compassion at all?"
"She is not my wife! To me, my wife is dead! She cares nothing for my honor! If she had, she would kill herself or the thing inside her! I do not expect you to understand Capellan ways, petty officer! It's always her way or what she wants and the first time I ask things be followed in Capellan customs, she is afraid!" He leveled his gaze at her. "I should have known better than to pick a selfish, whiny, weak, and cowardly human female for a wife!"
"You bastard!" Branwen stood up from behind the bed. "I am not afraid; I just will not kill for you. My life is worth more than your beliefs. Now get out, and stay out, you stay away from me, because you are the one dishonoring our vows. Through sickness and in health, remember!" She spat at him.
Max suddenly didn't know what to do. On one hand, he felt a nagging need to protect Branwen. But on the other, he didn't want to see another marriage break up before his very eyes. In some small way he could understand exactly how Man'darr felt, despite the Capellan's statement to the contrary. But to ask your wife to kill whatever it is growing inside of her? Or worse yet to kill herself?
He remembered an ethics course he took in college. The scenario of the raped woman came into play. Should she abort the fetus, thus eliminating any link to the person who violated her, or should she bear the child, not attaching blame for a heinous act to an innocent life? He shook his head. The course made for several days of lively discussion, but the waters were muddied here. Hydran offspring... and three at that. He was glad he failed to mention that little tidbit to Man'darr. But the decision for his next statement to Man'darr was simple in Max's mind.
"You are a heartless bastard, Captain. I would like you to leave my Sickbay. Now. Or else. I'm not playing."
"I grow tired of your idle threats, petty officer." He then looked at Branwen. "But I will leave because the mere sight of that...female, sickens me. Man'darr then turned and headed out of the medical bay without looking back.
"Well, now that he's gone," Max breathed. He took in the sight of Branwen and felt a pang of pain for her, not for the first time. Her appearance was altered, her physiology manipulated. For all intents and purposes, she was raped, impregnation forced on her. He waited a moment, then addressed her.
"What would you like me to do for you, Branwen?"
Branwen was silent for a while to shocked to do much else. Then she walked towards Max and just huddled against him. "Should I… should I kill the babies to keep him?" She asked softly.
Max held her against him instinctively and remained silent for some time as well. "I can't answer that for you, Bran. I wish I had all of the answers for you, but there are some things in life you have to make the best personal decisions on. This, if nothing else, definitely ranks as one of those things. However, whatever you decide I will be support you one-hundred percent."
The Medic paused for a moment, then said what was on his mind. "I won't pretend to completely understand your husband. But cultural differences aside, I would like to think that he would treat you with a bit more respect than that. Certainly with a healthy modicum of compassion. That display was just... it was just bullshit."
"It's tough, Max. I love him, and I want to do what he wants. But to kill these babies, it goes against everything I believe in. I'm not saying that I will keep them, I don't know if I want to see them after they are born." She shivered. "But I believe they should have some chance in life. It is not their fault that they are being born. I had just hoped... I need somebody with me to hold my hand and to cry with me." She held on to him. "I know you don't have the time for that." Branwen chuckled. "Don't worry, I will not make you."
"I do have time for it," Max said. "I'm here for you to lean on."
"Thank you, Max." She sighed. Holding on to him tightly. "Thank you."
She was silent for a while. "But what about the others? I cannot be the only one who was injured. They must need you as well."
"Everyone will be taken care of, but I'm making extra time for you."
"You are very kind Max, I appreciate it." She hugged him closer and then let go. "I really don't know what to do." She sat down on the bed.
"Well, you don't have too much longer to decide what to do, as you are apparently quite further along than I would think." Max suddenly appeared uneasy as he remembered something. "There's something else, you need to know," he told her.
"How far? How much longer will I have a choice?" She asked him next.
TBC… "Back to the Legalities of life" Lt. JG. Ophelia Zamora Logan Alexander Zamora Location: Logan's bedroom -================================================ "But moooommmmmmmmm......." "No more buts mister, mine is big enough." Ophelia childed to Logan's giggles as she pushed him gently into his room. He turned from her, ran and jumped up on his bed, instantly crossing his legs and looking at her with dark shining 'I'm not tired' eyes. "Can't I stay up a little more?" "No. Now, what story tonight?" "Um......make one up." "Ah Logan, you know that requires me to think....." Zamora sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes upwards. He giggled yet again, ripping the covers off of his small bed and tucking himself underneath them. "We went to the bathroom?" "Yes...." "Brushed teeth?" "Yes...mmooommmm" "Drink of water....." "Yeah." "Good, no getting out of bed tonight okay? Mom's gotta work on a potential case." He nodded, inwardly promising to attempt to stay in bed. Who knows what could come up? He was six....not thirty six. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at his mother with a new fascination. "Now. There was once a man. He was overly tall." "What did he do?" He asked innocently. "He was the Chief of Security." "On this ship? The Galaxy?" An off smile appeared, inwardly he wondered if he could provoke his mother. "No Logan, not this ship." "But where then mom?" "Logan..please....He was a Chief on a small colony. His name was......." "Lt. Commander SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS!!!!!" He broke out again in a round of insane giggles at his own joke, causing Ophelia to laugh and tassel his hair. "Gees Logan, Mema let you watch Marry Poppins again or did someone feed you some sugar this afternoon?" "Someone fed me sugar!" He responded in a sing song voice. "Who?" "I don't know...some tall guy with curly hair.....he looked kinda weird. He had a padd with him that he wouldn't let me look at." "Well, in the future, we don't accept things from weird guys with curly hair that won't show you their padd......." "Mom! Ewwwww! He didn't give me anything....I was playing......" She smirked before reaching out to hug him tightly. "What am I gonna do with you?" "Don't ask me. I'm just six." "Yes, I know." Ophelia stood, towering over her son before she walked over and ordered the lights down. "Good night Logan....sleep tight." "Don't let the bed bugs bite." He responded back. "What if they do bite hon?" Zamora asked. He sat up before making a pretend phaser with his hand. "Then I'll blast em! Bam bam bam!!!!" "Logan.....let's calm down now...k?" "K, night mom!" "Night baby." She smiled in the dim light before turning and instantly switching her mind from mom to super hero defender of good. A report had streamed across her desk earlier that evening, causing her concern. The incident occurred in the sick bay and from the sounds of it was reminiscent of an experience she had a while ago when she dared to seek medical attention after another 'incident' with her ex husband. Glancing down at the names on the report, Ophelia knew she had talk to those involved, especially the woman. It could be a legal matter, it could not be. It all depended on what this Brawen wanted to do. Her facial muscles tightened as she placed the padd down on the coffee table and replaced it with a cup of luke warm coffee. This went above and beyond the traditional call of duty, yet she felt she should get involved on some level. This woman was likely hurting, confused, and possibly scared like she had been a while ago. And if, just if she was strong enough to do the 'right' thing, Ophelia would be at her side...helping her every step of the way until this was resolved. TBC: "Happy never After" Part Three 1st Lieutenant Branwen London Captain Man'darr Mavia Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict Maxwell ***Location: Medical Bay, SFMC Controlled Hydran Vessel, en rout to USS Galaxy***
"You've been pregnant for about 6 weeks," Max replied. "As for making a choice, I can't answer that." He swallowed, and then continued. "There has never been a human-Hydran hybrid or gestation, so I can't say what would be safe in terms of terminating the pregnancy for you." He checked a PADD with some information that was just sent to him through the ship's wifi system. There was no avoiding it now.
"The biofilters picked up on your DNA changes, and the fact that you are pregnant. So, by regs, I had to send a report up to the XO for review. I would imagine that from there it's already been forwarded to 'Fleet Command. I'm sorry. There was no way around that."
"What will that mean for me and the babies? I don't want to become a lab rat. You can change me back can't you?" She asked with slight fear in her voice.
Max blew out a puff of air and bent his head just slightly. Then his eyes met with Branwen, the uncertainty clear between them. "I can look at the research done by several noted doctors in the Federation, as well as whatever other sanctioned research there is. But as far as anything beyond simulations and proposals, I cannot physically touch you in terms of 'gene therapy' until I get the say so from not only the CMO, but Starfleet Medical as well."
"Max." She touched his arm lightly, a far cry from the hysterical girl he had met a few months ago. "I understand it might not be possible to change me now because of the babies. But I hope you get the go ahead to study my case now so you can change me back the moment the babies have been born. I can tell you having to use this breather is not fun. And I don't think green becomes me very well."
Smiling, Max said, "I dunno. The green does this uber sexy thing for ya." Then suddenly serious again, he continued. "I can definitely start the research now, but I'll need some heavy hitters in the medical community to help me out. Gene therapy has always been a project I've excelled in through simulations only. I've never had to perform it on any sentient being, just plant life. And you don't need me to tell you that plant life is vastly different."
"I definitely hope so." She chuckled. "I guess asking the Hydrans for help is out of the question? Oh and Max, I guess you didn't bring any counseling staff on a dangerous mission like this? There are a lot of people around who are going to need some serious therapy, me included. And the sooner you start with that, the better. Being a prisoner of the Hydrans is not a picnic."
"I'll see to it that you guys get first priority for all available Counselors," Max replied. "In fact, I don't think there will be a Counselor that won't be falling all over themselves to see everyone who was retrieved."
"You forgot my question about the Hydran's." She chuckled, "and I know there will be counseling available when we get back to the galaxy. But what about on the rescue ship?" She asked. "You know for me it was the second time they got their hands on me. Last time it was very rough on the women."
"Oh, I didn't forget about them, just answering it in the hopes that you wouldn't notice." Max shifted uneasily next to Branwen. "The Hydrans are going to deny any culpability in whatever that bastard doctor was doing to you, more than likely. He violated more interstellar agreements and Sentient Rights agreements than anyone here can shake a stick at. We're on our own here, but have the advantage of reverse engineering what they did with you with an existing map of your DNA and looking at exactly what they did to you."
"As for Counselor's on the Rescue Ship, there may be one or two...or four. Don't worry; they'll be getting to you very shortly."
"So we are truly on our own. I'm really going to need you, Max." she smiled sadly. "And the good thing you brought counselors. I was afraid this mission would have been too dangerous with them. All these people coming out to save us." She swallowed. "Thank you."
The Medic smiled, patted he hand, and ran another scan on her. "Well, don't thank me for the Counselors. Wasn't my idea, although I certainly wouldn't have objected."
"I'm glad. Otherwise I would have to do it myself, and I am grounded." She chuckled. "Before the mission I didn't agree, I guess now I do. I have some serious problems" so big that somehow it even sounded funny now.
"Well, you're the patient now. So lay back, relax, and enjoy the bumpy ride back, m-kay?"
"That's never been my best, being a patient." She smiled. "Besides do I really need to stay here? There is much you can do for me, is there. I need a geneticist, and may be a neurologist; they played with my mind a little as well. But right now I don't feel so bad; I would like to make myself as useful as possible." Branwen admitted reluctantly.
"You can be useful. By getting some rest. That's an order, Marine," Max chuckled. "Let us worry about you and everyone else. We don't even know if there are going to be any further physiological effects from the genetic alterations they did on you."
"You are right, I had not thought of that. We will all have to be checked out deprogrammers and neurologists before being allowed back on duty. There is no telling what they planted in our minds." She was very serious now.
Nodding grimly, he went on to say, "Exactly. I really didn't want to mention it, but that's procedure. But you didn't need me to tell you that," he added, patting her hand before standing up.
"I forgot." She said in a small voice. "I completely forgot." She did not like the idea of not being able to trust her own mind. "Max, when you have to leave, can you leave the light on?"
"Sure, no problem," Max answered softly. He sat with her until her eyes indicated that she drifted off. He adjusted her blanket to ensure that she was well covered, and silently left. 6283 |