OOC: This will serve as a pre-amble to a coming series of posts that I've been working on for a 'really' long time... and will likely be working on for some time to come. Ergo I'm taking the opportunity now to lay down some groundwork. Please note, so that there is no confusion, this post is set quite a few months into the future and doesn't have impact on the current story line :-)

"The Fires of Liberation" Part One A Preamble to "The Ensign, Eagle, and Anchor"

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

(Marine Country- USS Galaxy Late 2385)

The Marine Rec Room had been put together out of a war time need for Marines to relax, and the realization that the resources for another holodeck just would not be available. Instead, the Colonel and a few volunteers managed to set up a small room out of part of the Marine Mess Hall. It wasn't like the Mess Hall didn't have the space to spare... many preferred eating at their desks or in the privacy of their bunks anyway.

So the small room, large enough for maybe a dozen people at any one time, was in essence a game room which was always open. The 188th had acquired a pair of pool tables, a sizable display screen that had access to the ship's general comm network and thus played whatever stored shows or live broadcasts one wanted to watch (when permitted), and a replicator had been 're-appropriated' from the mess hall (it was in the way anyway) and reprogrammed... to the knowledge of a select few... to allow the replication of 'actual' bottles of alcohol for those with the right authorization codes. There was no way to celebrate a ship-board holiday, such as the anniversary of Galaxy's commissioning, then with a quality drink after all.

In addition the few glass top tables in the room had frosted checkers/chess boards on them, and boxes of game pieces were stored in the small closet, along with an assortment of board games. Before those gathered however were a deck of cards, assorted candies each assigned a particular 'value'. The five Marines had a good game going, enjoying what had become a tradition whenever combat wasn't seen... a Friday night dinner and poker game.

"Thank you Corporal, the meal was delicious." Sergeant Uribe, a Denobulan infantryman gave a personable smile, proving his people's reputation for being unceasingly polite was well earned.

"Thank you Sergeant, I'm glad 'someone' noticed." Leah turned slightly accusing eyes at the Colonel.

"What?" For'kel looked up from his cards to meet the gaze. "I said it was good."

"Well it's just that when someone goes through the trouble of preparing an alien dish out of consideration for someone else, they tend to want a little more of a critique than just three words."

"It was 'really' good." Fork clarified for his aide, and friend.

She sighed with exasperation and rolled her eyes in a manner Fork was all too familiar with. "Men. You can drive a southern woman to drink I swear." She muttered, jumping out of her seat to go to the replicator.

"Sing it, sister." Warrant Officer Zama Mof, a Bolian pilot and the other female at the table gave Leah a nod of encouragement.

"Are you insinuating that Sergeant Uribe here isn't a man?" The Colonel watched her get up.

"Huh? I'm not insinuating... hey 'I' am the one who's miffed here! I'm not on trial!" She sat back down with an audible 'hmph'.

Fork smirked. "Ante up." He threw in a fun-size Milky Way.

"How much are the Milky Ways again?" Tech Sergeant Ilia, the always handsome Trill computer specialist asked.

"Three." Leah responded with a smile, one that if you saw personally you might swear bordered on flirtatious.

For'kel sighed and shook his head. Oh brother, if she kept that up this was going to be a very long night. What's worse, poor Ilia really didn't seem to have a clue what she was up to... and worse than that was poor Leah didn't know he didn't know, or that his eyes were on someone else not seated. Yep, he managed to get back into the 'gossip mill' somewhat. Thanks in part to Warrant Officer Mof's inability to remain quiet.

Ilia tossed in a milky way and raised a miniature bag of M&Ms. Leah followed suit, as did Mof and Uribe. Fork tossed in his M&M's, he wasn't about to drop out just yet.

"Next on FNN Nightly News: An infestation of Terran grasshoppers threatens Bolian silk production levels. The President's Economic Advisement Council releases new statistics indicating stronger than predicted economic growth for the third straight quarter. The annual Federation Fashion Show from Paris is expected to draw nearly two and a half million to the fabled City of Lights, and a shipment of nitreum fertilizer en route to Bajor causes a security alert at Spacedock in Earth Orbit when the transport pulls in for emergency repairs. All after this brief commercial break."

Leah, more than a bit miffed (she'd been that way the last day or two) struck the key on the table remote that turned off the display screen. "Can you believe that?!" She steamed, running her hand through her hair as she looked down at her cards. "We virtually crush a Triad invasion fleet assembling in the Kalandra Sector, and we don't even make the news reels! Instead we get side-lined by maggots, money, dresses, and fertilizer!"

For'kel smirked. "That's because they don't know about it yet."

Everyone stopped their candy-based gambling for a moment. It was Leah who actually gathered the where withal to say anything. "Sir... what do you 'mean' they don't know about it?"

Theoretically they weren't supposed to say anything about this, but Fork trusted the people in the room, and they were 'all' there for the bloody combat at the Kalandra border. There wasn't anyone they were going to tell anyway. "Because the story won't be allowed to be printed for the next three days. There's a reason your letters to home haven't been answered yet."

"Shit." Ilia murmured. "That explains why I haven't heard back from my sister. She was supposed to be getting married yesterday..."

Uribe shook his head. "My wives and husband in-laws are going to be wondering what happened."

"Why three days?" Leah blinked, finding the number rather arbitrary.

"Because we'll be bound for Cardassia in two." Fork laid out his hand. "Enjoy tonight... come morning the Galaxy rendezvous with the fleet, and we hopefully celebrate New Years in Lakarian City. The Liberation of Cardassia is at hand."

"Orbital Reunions"

Starring

The Redhead
&
The Blond.

Like a mated pair, two starships swung in low orbit over the mystery world of HD 189625-d.

The first was majestic...a gleaming beacon of smooth curves and warm light.

Her escort was sullen and angular. A Silversharp wedge with menacing windows aglow.

In one of those windows stood a tiny figure....A wee slip of a girl with bobbed red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across a worried face.

In silent contemplation, she considered the majestic starship hovering not a kilometer distant from her own and relived a life that depsite her best efforst could not be forgotten.

Rebecca von Ernst came up through the ranks aboard the USS Galaxy. To be sure there had been other assignements...she spent much of the Dominion War opening and closing the massive space doors on Starbase 108, followed by a disastrous tour aboard the USS Victory.... but the Galaxy would always be her home.

Hell though it was.

She'd risen...against all odds...from a stumbling, bumbling Ensign to Chief of the Tactical Department.

From her position behind the arch she rained hellfire and damnation on all who dared cross Captian Price's path......Borg Fleets....Cardassian Warships....Space Vampires.....All had fallen to the skill of a nervous little girl from rural Minnesota who was so short she had to stand on tip-toes to even reach the Fire Photons button.

Through it all she battled self doubts and body image problems severe enought to make Branwen London look chipper and self confident.

And then something stupid happened.

John Q Brhode swooped into the Captain's chair of the Galaxy and in a flurry of house cleaning promoted the skittish young redhead to Executive Officer.

Rebecca hadnt seen much of her soul since that time.

She'd been second in command of the Galaxy under Brhode himself, and therafter Daren M'kantu for several years before the powers that be saw fit to pull out a chiar of her own.

She'd long since given up protesting the insanity....

Thinking back to Brhode and M'kantu, her nose scrunched in distaste. Rebecca had a bone to pick with both of those men, but Brhode was long gone, and rumor had it Mkantu was out of comission for good due to a nasty lizard bite.

Rebecca had a pet lizard once.....its name was Mr. Green and Momma had to flush it down the toilet when he went to lizard heaven.
She shook her head to clear it.

~~Mixing up the past and the present again noodlehead.~~

Who was in control of Galaxy now? Some Vulcan lady? T'vara? Rebecca didnt know her.

~~~It might have been me.~~~ she mused to herself tracing her finger along the window, following the long curved lines of the Galaxy. With M'kantu gone, she'd been in contention for the captaincy according to rumors out of BuPers...but in the end cooler heads had prevailed.

Too many people aboard Galaxy knew Rebecca for the weirdo she was to let her actually take charge.

~~Smart of them.~~ she agreed with a slight nod of the head.

Sighing she turned to other thoughts.

Protocol usually demanded that when two starships met that one captain or the other would invite the other over for a formal dinner.

Rebecca never bothered with such niceties.....her job was to blow aliens up rather than wine and dine them. Besides social functions were an acute phobia for her, and she hoped that the Vulcan captain would see the illogic of said traditions.

No invitation had been forthcoming so T'vara apparently agreed.

~~Boring yawn-fest anyways.~~~

A soft chime interrupted her thoughts, and pivoting smothly on a slim heel Rebecca saw the figure of a tall thin girl framed by the doorway.

She had the complete bios of every one of her crew memorized, so it was immediately apparent this girl was a visitor from across the way.

Shoulder length blond hair, ice blue eyes, and a sprinkling of glitter makeup across her cheeks.

Rebecca cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. "I know you."

"Umm...yeah...Hi there....I mean...Aye Ma'am." the girl tittered nervously. "We met once on the..."

"You were the Security crewman from the Galaxy who took me down to the whale tanks last spring." Rebecca interrupted.

"Uh....yeah. Thats me....Knew I couldnt fool you.....I just uh...like I totally had some papers for you to sign from Captain T'vara......ummmm..ma'am."

The Ma'am was added almost as an afterthought.

Since she lost her soul Rebecca was used to people being afraid of her. It was useful for hiding the fact that inside she was more terrified of them, but this girl's nervousness seemed more the bouncy excited type than mere fear of being blown out an airlock.

(Rebecca wondered where that rumor got started.)

The two girls watched each other from across the room, the blond shifting her weight nervously, while the redhead wondered why she looked so familiar.

People didnt look familiar to Rebecca. She either knew them or she didnt.

When people looked familiar that implied that ones memory was only supplying partial information on a face or voice, and Rebecca never got partial information.....

Dialing into the confused prison she called her brain she quickly came up with the answer.
"You look like my Aunt Florence from Buffalo." she said simply....amazed at the resemblance now that she knew its source.. "Sharp cheek bones skinny nose and long neck."

The girl blushed. "Oh...yeah...I do." she replied before realizing something and ammending, "I mean.....Aunt who?"

Rebecca studied the girl for long moments, the beginings of another headache throbbing in the back of her skull. "Well?"

"Uh...well what?"

"You said you had papers for me to sign?"

"Oh...duh." Giggling a little insanely, the blond produced a PADD and handed it over. "Its like weapons tranfer from our Armory to yours....what with the Marines coming aboard and all. Phaser rifles....bazookas......a wicked Batleth collection." She ticked each item off in turn,
"Also this covers all the duty transfer papers for the same.....Marines.....pilots....armory officers...."

"Armory officers?" Rebecca squinted at the orders, her head really hurting now. "I have an armory officer already......who is this...Crewman Jimsdottir?" she looke up at the nervous girl, " This order is transfering YOU to my ship?"

The blond shrugged and popped her bubble gum, "Uh yeah.....Only temporary....well since we're lending you so many of our guns and stuff....well....seemed like a good idea to tag along and keep an eye on them."

"Did you think we were gonna steal them?"

There was no real answer to that one, and the girl muttered something helplessly.

"Speak up crewman. Seriously. Didnt your momma ever teach you to enunciate your words?"

"My momma?" For some reason that question struck the girl as extremely funny and she could only giggle and nod.

Rebecca wasnt sure why this strange girl kept popping up in her life, but if her years aboard the Galaxy had taught her one thing.....is that there were a lot of really weird people in Starfleet.

~~Must be why they started putting Councelors on every ship.~~~ she mused.

"Very well crewman....My name is CAptain Rebecca von Ernst...welcome aboard."

"Totally zarky to be here." replied Allison von Ersnt with a straight face. "I feel at home already."

OOC: Written in Direct response to "The Games Starships Play." Chris, I couldn't let you have all the fun now!

"The Gunner's Ritual"

Lt Chris Daniels
Chief Tactical Officer

CIC, Deck 11
============

"God Damn Fighter jockeys...can't trust them to cover a simple flank."

Chris said it almost jokingly. The impromptu tactical drill with the Zeus had taken place a mere hour after his shift on the bridge had ended--an abbreviated stint up at the arch due to his involvement with the missile testing down in CIC. When it had all gone down, he decided to step back and watch his crew work without him. It'd be good practice for LtJG Vealen on the Bridge, and he could observe the CIC gang do their thing.

In reality, despite the Zeus' quick dispatching of the fighters, Chris was content, if not almost happy, with how his kids had done. With the frustrations of the missile tests, it had been awhile since he had been able to run a full-up drill. That, and the drill had gone down while he had a slew of second-shifters running things, which gave them a great experience that they usually didn't get. He was happy with not only his sensor operators, but Vealen as well picking up on Captain von Ernst's signature move.

And even more pleased that Vealen had elected to use the big boy slung under Galaxy's nose on her as soon as she swooped into range.

And the potshot firing solutions they had recorded along the way. Chris edict to his gunners was simple: Be ready to shoot, always.

What didn't please him was the fighter guys. Cowboy and him would have to work on a better method of employing them for patrol duties. The setup they thought would be great didn't turn out so well.

Or that Vealen had waited until Captain von Ernst went into her aerobatic moves before he got off any torpedo shots.

But, all in all, a satisfactory performance.

One of the not-so-quiet rivalries amongst starships was between those who operated the implements of death and destruction that the ships wielded. Tactical departments took great pride in their work, and it was not uncommon when ships met in space for those tactical departments to aim those implements at each other, partly as a matter of respect, partly as a brotherly test of capabilities, and partly as a show of power.

For if the Zeus was the spike-collared wildchild that bounced around the neighborhood cosmos, the Galaxy was the pissed off thug with a baseball bat.

Most of the rest of the crews on the ships, often to include their Captains, never knew about these friendly exercises...for this was a ritual of those who vowed to use these gleaming beasts to kill and destroy for an organization founded on exploration. The rest of the ship didn't need to know about it...and the gunners didn't want them to know about it.

Chris had all the respect for the Zeus and for her Captain...as he had learned, you couldn't not be CTO of the Galaxy and ignore what she had done in these halls...and for the Zeus' tactical department, for that matter.

But that didn't mean he was about to cow to them, and be nice simply because the former CTO was sitting in the center seat a short distance away across the vacuum.

He looked down at the holotable which depicted the "situtation"...Galaxy in orbit with Zeus on her starboard as the two exchanged their goods. He had a sly smile on his face.

This was the game, and this was fun. A welcome break from running over the modifications Aina and the design team had made. Too bad he only had a day to play it.

"Weapons control, I want at least two of our phaser batteries locked on Zeus the whole time she's out there. If firing arcs permit, switch them randomly at 3 to 7 minute intervals. Calculate a firing solution for Bertha whenever we're orbiting the western hemisphere of the planet. Sensors, I want you to go over Zeus with a fine toothed comb...calculate any weak points in her hull that could be exploited. Also start picking up on her electronic emissions, I'd imagine she's going to try and jam us up once we lock her. ECM, I want you tron-heads to put out a low level targeting jammer and prepare for counter-counter-measures when she starts trying to stiff arm us. Combat Control, I want you to work on figuring out attack vectors simulating different orbits and ranges. Oh...and when this is all over, make sure you transmit the results over to Zeus' Tactical department. They'll appreciate the evaluation as much as we do."

Around the room, the various officers and enlisted smiled as they set about their appointed tasks of harassing their younger sister.

Chris watched as the holotable displayed the various firing solutions and jamming fields displayed around the two ships. Almost instantly, the Zeus' gunners began reacting.

This was the game, and Chris loved it.

"The Visitor of Kauai"

Guru Nilakantha

One we all know and love

Location: Hindu monastery: Kauai Island

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

Guru Nilakantha watched the visitor with an unending morbid fascination. Where she came from, it was not known. Yet, as he sat cross legged glancing out over the natural beauty of the land that stretched out before him, he held on to the simple knowledge that she did come from somewhere. His gaze wondered downwards, causing his hand to automatically reach out and pick a piece of link off of his sacred burnt orange robe. Holding the lint up, the man studied it for a mere second before placing it in his pocket. To let it drift into the wind would defile the harmony that was surrounding him at this time. Once again, his thoughts fell to the strange exotic visitor that had desired to make her home here among the monks.

He was positive that the woman before him had a story to tell. It would be told in her own time, for she was currently fighting some very demented demons. That was apparent in her face, the scaring on her arms and body, and the aged sore look in her eyes when she did raise her eyes to him out of pure reverence. She had no peace in her soul, it was weary and weak. His heart and mind cried out to her, attempting to silently offer the stillness that he had known for so long. He had no reason to need it any longer, his time here on this earth was almost complete. She glanced up his way, her blond hair waving slightly in the island breeze.

Her smile was soft, yet eternally tormented for an unknown reason. He nodded, his crystal ice blue eyes dipping low to the ground as his facial expression remained quietly loving towards the woman.

The dusty shuffle of Yogi Jivanandanatha came from behind the Guru. Bowing deeply, Yogi's compassionate look was all the old Guru wanted to view.

"May I get you something Master? Some tea perhaps?"

The Guru waved at him. "No, my young Yogi. I am most adequate." His vision took in the form of the woman yet again before speaking. "Has she spoken yet?"

"No, nothing. This is the first time that I have seen her up from her bed. She is obviously feeling much better from when we found her."

"Indeed. Have you had a moment to investigate the series of numbers that were tattoo'd onto her wrist? Most peculiar."

"I am working on it now Master, we should know soon. Another monastery with the resources we need is investigating." He left his spoken comments at that, although unholy, he did have an urge to whine to the guru about technology and what was needed at this outpost.

"Excellent. How are her burns coming along?"

"Good. I have created a paste for her skin that appears to be healing the areas well. Master.....what do you think happened to her?"

"I don't know." The Guru stated with a long sigh. "It is known that her journey to peace as been far and full of tribulations. She does not speak, yet wonders through the gardens as if she had the weight of ten thousands beings upon her shoulders. It is troubling to me." He rubbed his forehead between his bushy white eyebrows.

The Yogi attempted not to smile, yet could not help it.

"I rubbed the blasted dot off my forehead again....didn't I?" He raised his hand, slightly smirking at the red dye that had painted his hand.

"Yes. I will go and get the bowl."

"Fine...." He huffed. Making a mental note that was sure to fly away, the Guru attempted to remember to talk to Yogi Tejadevanatha concerning the red flowers used to make the dye for the dots. There had to be a more permanent solution. The soft shuffling of slippers could be heard slowly fading as the Yogi departed.

A slight breeze danced around the Guru carrying the scent of Orchid through it. There was a change coming, that much he did indeed recognize.

TBC:

~How Thyago Finally Gets A Job, I~


Lt. Thyago Leandro Domenico Carneiro




Marcil was a small star. Red and cool, it put out enough light to barely be visible beyond ten lightyears. Yet, it held in its orbit a planet that hosted quite a populous colony. Anoat currently held the esteemed title of the Federation's most economically prosperous and second most populated colony on the edge of Federation territory.

Unfortunately for Anoat, it existed on an edge that bordered what was, at least for the past few months, Breen space. And, if the Breen had their way, Anoat would soon hold the esteemed title of the Breen's most economically prosperous and second most populated colony on the edge of their territory.

And, it looked like the Breen were going to get their way.

"Report!" Captain Furth called out to his crew.

"Shields at ten percent!" a voice called out behind him. It was feminine, and not the voice of the Andorian tactical officer who manned the station only a few moments ago.

"Hull breaches on decks five through eight," his Ops officer called out. "And, eleven, and thirteen!" he added.

"We've lost the right impulse engine," his pilot called out. "Warp drive is still off--"

She was interrupted by a sudden jolt to the ship, a jerk so sharp, it was as if they stood on a bed sheet as a maid flapped it open as she laid it down onto a bare mattress. The small Andorian conn officer was thrown from her chair as if it was an ejection sheet and she smashed against the ceiling of the bridge.

Captain Furth had nearly done the same, but he was heavier, and had been tightly gripping the arms of his chair. He was merely tossed to the far left of the bridge. He could only imagine what had happened to all the officers that stood behind him. He pushed himself up and ran back to the tactical station, now unmanned once more.

There were a number of shouted 'I'm okay's erupting from around the bridge. "What was that?" he screamed.

"Major explosion on deck two," the Australian at Ops reported. "We've lost all port sensors." That included targeting sensors. This was bad, because the battle was one their portside, and without a rightside engine, they couldn't turn left.

"Engineering! I need a starboard engine!"

"I've sent out everyone I have!" the gruff voice called out over the comms. "We're doing everything we can, but we don't have enough people!"

Furth grimaced and cursed. They had entered into battle with a shortages of officers. In particular, a shortage of engineers. He had nagged the fleet to assign him more. He put in request after request. He even tried to pull a few strings to get the Miranda's old chief engineer when that ship underwent a major crew rotation some time ago.

"If I only had one more engineer," the chief said over the comm, "I only need one more fusion expert..."

But, they didn't. Instead, their starboard engine remained offline. To rejoin the battle, they had to make a full 360 right turn. They had to expose their damaged aft, and the Breens took their shot.

The USS Hatshepsut was destroyed.

Anoat was lost.

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

"I can't. I have to work in half an hour."

"So? You can have one more drink, mina. You're just going to go count boxes in a cargo bay. You can be buzzed for that, ta ligado?" Thyago said, flagging down the bartender.

She eyed him suspiciously as she considered. Eventually, she gave in. "Fine," she agreed.

"Maneiro," he smiled. "Two more caiperinas, por favor," he ordered.

She jumped in before the bartender left and added, "Make mine small." The bartender laughed and gave Thyago a sympathetic glance, to which he frowned unreceptively. She sat back on her stool, resigned to probably being a few minutes late for her shift, and studied the Brazilian next to her. "You're always here," she stated, "Don't you ever work?"

"Nope."

She was confused. "But, you're in Starfleet. You must have to report for duty some time."

"I'm not assigned to this crew," he said. "No job, no work."

She was still confused. "Then why are you here? I mean, what ship are you assigned to?"

He grinned. "So, funny story, yeah? I am supposed to be on the Hapshetsut. The Gypsy queen, sabe?"

"Egyptian."

"What?"

"Hatshepsut is an Egyptian queen. Not a gypsy," she explained. "And I think its Hatshepsut. With the 'p' and 't' reversed."

Thyago looked at her curiously for a long moment. Eventually she grew uncomfortable and asked, "What?"

"I feel like I've done this joke before," he explained.

"What joke?"

"That was the response the first time, I think," he frowned. "Anyways, not the point. I'm supposed to be on the USS Hapshetsut--"

"Hatshepsut."

"The USS Hatshepsut, NCC something-something-something-something-something-something, ta ligado? But, Hapshetsut is--"

"Hatshepsut," she corrected, for the third time.

"Ok, no one cares, you know what I'm talking about," Thyago snapped. She threw up her hands in surrender, mocking him. "Hatshepsut is also the name of a river or a lake or a cow or something on Andoria, right?"

"A cow?"

He shrugged, as if to say, 'those crazy blueskins,' then continued. "So, there's this other ship, named after the cow or whatever, the USS Hapshetsut, NCC something-something-something-something-something-something ELSE, ta me entendendo? That's the ship I'm assigned to. But, that ship was decommissioned four years ago! Someone made a typo, and I'm assigned to a ship that doesn't exist! So, I'm chillin' here, waiting for this ship that will never come, and still earning my fleety paycheck! It's awesome!"

"Shouldn't that be... I don't know, don't you find that a little morally wrong?" she asked.

He shrugged. "No, what morals?"

She eyed him laughingly. "Well, I guess it's nice as long as it lasts," she said, and finished her drink. "Oh, look at the time. I have to run. Thank's for the drinks, Teo."

"Sure," he smiled. "We're still going out dancing tonight, yeah?"

"Okay," she agreed and leaned in to kiss him before she left.

"Shall I put it on your account?" the bartender said suddenly, as soon as she had left the lounge, holding out a display of the check.

"Yeah, ok," Thyago said.

The bartender left to go run the check and Thyago swiveled on his stool to face outwards into the bar. He had a date for tonight, but that was not for another eight hours. What could he do to fill that time? As his eyes settled on a particularly striking red head, the bartender returned.

"Didn't work," he said simply.

Thyago glanced back, befuddled. "Como?"

"Didn't work," he said, sliding the PADD with the check display back towards Thyago.

"What? What do you mean it didn't work? Try it again."

"Already tried it again. Didn't work."

"Wha-- I-- What?" Thyago asked, his pitch jumping higher with each false start. Once it had reached falsetto, he said, "Why didn't work? There's plenty of money in there."

"Says you're dead," the bartender said. His patience seemed to be growing thin.

Thyago blinked. "I'm not dead."

"Says you're dead."

"But, I'm not dead."

"Look, it says you're dead," the bartender repeated in a tone of voice that said I'm just telling you what's told to me and rather than give me a hard time, you should just play dead, like a good corpse.

"But, I'm not dead," Thyago said once more, pressing his hands against his chest as a show of corporeal physicality, "See, I'm right here, being alive, ta me entendendo?" The bartender gave him an annoyed glare and folded his arms. Thyago sighed and grabbed the PADD, "Let me see that."

Thyago ran his account once more. Then he ran another account. Then he ran a third account. Then he called for an account status. "It says I'm dead."

"That's what I just said," the bartender pointed out.

"But, I don't understand. Why does it say I'm dead?" Thyago asked, more to himself than to anyone else. He stood from his stool and began to walk away.

"Hey, where you going?" the bartender asked, his voice having increased in seriousness by one full magnitude.

"I have to go try and take care of this, sacou? Find out why they think I'm dead."

"If you don't pay for your drinks, they won't just think you're dead," the bartender threatened. Problems of life and death were beyond his means. He had to make a living.

Thyago eyed him, wondering if he was serious. Eventually, he decided it would be best not to risk it and pulled out his wallet and slapped several paper bills on the counter.

"What is this?" the bartender asked.

"Cash," Thyago said, confused.

"Man, this is a Federation starship! We don't take cash!"

'Goodbyes And Welcomes'

Consular Attaché Marra T'Rawn
Liaison Officer

USS Zeus/USS Galaxy
---------------------------------------

Marra was looking through the window of her temporary quarters at the floating outside spaceship. USS Galaxy - her new assignment, her new and first solo assignment, without anyone watching over her shoulder. Her lips curled in amused smile. Romulan, with her past as part of diplomatic corps... of the Federation, her parents would probably laugh at how fate seems to turn things around for her... if they would believe in fate.

Simple Starfleet duty uniform felt good. Not as good as Romulan uniform... Over the years Marra used to uniforms, so even Starfleet one now was better than alternative, business suit. For Marra, civilian clothing served designated purpose, for comfort she was wearing uniform... or nothing at all.

Chime at the door brought her back to the small cabin.

‘Yes?’ The doors opened and young crewman in gold colours entered. She turned away from the window giving him assessing look.

‘Whenever you are ready ma’am for transport...’ He hung up his voice meaningfully.

‘I am on my way.’ She replied and picked up single Duffel bag she had. All the things she considered as important were there and there wasn’t much of it. Never was. Part of the training she received.

Following crewmember, she sunk in her thoughts again. She ignored curious, distrustful or even disgusted looks from various people around. She got used to that and was above that. Still part of her mind was working with precision, assessing potential threats, a reflex that was deep part of her, reflex that saved her many times.

‘Marra!’ She heard behind just as they approached transport room. Marra turned around to notice handsome blonde half-Vulcan. Corner of her lips twitched in smile. ‘You are leaving? Just like that?’ He asked demandingly. She knew this tone all too well.

‘And how I should leave?’ She asked calmly still warm. Seeing building protest she added before he could react with seeping irony. ‘With goodbye kiss? Isn’t that a bit too melodramatic?’

Blonde man before her gasped and in his eyes appeared sparks of anger and surprise. He wanted to say something but then just took deep breath calming down instantly. A bit disappointing but just as expected for Marra.

‘I see...’ He managed to murmur.

Marra stepped back through open doors and turned away from the man.

‘Are we ready?’

The crewmember nodded from behind console.

‘Please step on the pad.’

Without hesitation, Marra stepped on disc-shaped low pedestal with arranged in large circle smaller, one-man circles.

‘Is it always that way with you?’ She heard from doors. Instead looking there, she just nodded at the man behind console.

And the world around flickered changing into another transporter room.

‘Welcome aboard USS Galaxy, Consular Attaché.’ A sweet female voice greeted her.

Licking her lips Marra glanced at the source of it.

‘Thank you.’ She gave her voice friendly, very friendly tone.

"Archaeoooooology"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Lt. Cmdr. Th'Khiss K'aa - shipbound
Lt. JG Gabrielle Watson (RobertS)
FO Aristi Ferguson (Kat)
Ens. Saiyk (Chris D)
Cdt4 Paige Sullivan (Kate)
Corporal Cianan Tierney (Alex)
Andrus Suder (Mek)
Petty Officer Third Class Erik Tombs (NPC)

*****

As the tingly transporter feeling faded away, Aristi Ferguson found herself
smiling contentedly. The planet's climate was just as
amazingly comfortable as the reports had suggested. "Ahhhhhhh!" she
exhaled, turning to face the direction of the sun's rays and
letting them warm her face and arms. "Perfect!"

To say she was 'happier than a pig in shit' might have been an
understatement. First, she was somewhere that was finally warm
enough to be comfortable, instead of stuck inside the chilly USS Galaxy.
Second, she'd been picked for this away team while all the
historians and archaeologists who actually wore Science blue were stuck back up
on the ship. And most of all, someone had been
generous enough to assign one of the cadets to the away team, unwittingly
giving her an assistant and (of course) pack mule.
Although, she wasn't quite sure just how much the tiny cadet named Sullivan
would actually be able to carry, but Aristi was sure
she'd manage. That was what cadets (and assistants) did, after all; one
way or another they managed.

She was almost about to grab the cadet and go, but at the last minute Aristi
remembered something important. She might have been
the most qualified archaeologist and maybe the most qualified anthropologist in
the team, but she still wasn't the highest ranking
officer here. So, catching the attention of Commander Elessidil, she asked,
"Permission to begin the site survey, sir?"

"Of course," Elessidil responded. "Everyone split up into your
teams and begin your investigations. Check in with me via comm
every hour or so and no one is to leave the surface or the immediate area
without clearing it with me first. Other than that, go do
what you came to do."

~~I love it when you take charge~~ Andrus sent with amusement.

Brian threw a glance in Andy's direction, unable to keep the grin
completely off his face. ~~Don't you have work to do?~~ he sent
in return.

Andy laughed silently. He pulled out the notes he had made with all the
information he had found for this sector and headed after
Aristi.

Looking around the landscape before her Gabrielle felt a slight twinge of. . .
something. This was the first time she realised that
she had actually been on an away mission on an uncharted planet. Before now
her duties had been purely medically orientated, and on
a medical frigate that was typically tasked with responding to distress calls
within known and explored space. Yet here she was now
on a new world, exploring. She had inherited a great deal from Aria, and a
healthy curiosity was one thing she certainly
appreciated. Pulling her tricorder from her kit she started a bio scan without
a word, content to leave the actual ruins to the
experts. The flora and fauna were her interest here, the ruins were partially
in the forested area and she was curious to discover
whether that was intentional or if the plants had slowly encroached on the
built up area, it could give some indication of how long
the area had been uninhabited for if the latter was the case. Hopefully no one
would have the indecency to get injured and
interrupt her investigations.

Cianan couldn't quite tell the feeling of being in a transporter, did
he like it? It seemed simple yet existential, a load of shit. Hearing
the Counselor order the split into teams brought back flashes that the
Angosian only recently began to accept. Vered was not going to be a
shining moment in his near perfect memory. It ended with a round-house
kick to Brian's jaw, knocking him unconscious.

Cianan looked out at the horizon to disguise his thoughtfulness, to
try and show he wasn't thinking but merely assessing. Too many
telepaths on the team made him anxious. Luckily, on this mission he'd
serve as both brawn and medic, the dichotomy that was the marine, and
not a negotiator or peacemaker as on Vered.

"Run!"

It was a harsh whisper, a simple plea in the back of his mind. Cianan
shrugged it off, dismissing the annoyance as a fading memory of a War
he tried hard to forget. A tricoder in one hand and a phaser in the
other, the marine was ready.

"Corporal Tierney, you're with me," Elessidil said, calibrating
his own tricorder before moving toward one of the walls. His role here was
two-fold: to monitor the well-being of the team itself and to search
for any clues of telepathic "residue" or activity in the vicinity.
After the Dithparu and their experience near the Typhon Expanse,
considering the possibility of undetected telepathic influence had
become a routine part of the Galaxy's investigatory bag of tricks,
especially when ruins of ancient cultures were involved.

"Did you say something?" Brian asked Cianan, glancing up from the
tricorder.

Cianan shook off the feeling. "Um, no Commander." The Angosian
followed the Betazoid. It was eerily looking all too familiar.

"Allllrighty, then" Aristi interjected with a grin. She pulled out
some survey equipment that looked like a weird cross between a large
padd and a tricorder, fiddled with it for a few moments, then tapped
her commbadge. "Ferguson to Lieutenant Commander K'aa. Sir, I am
establishing a data uplink now. Can you confirm that you are
receiving data from our instruments?"

[K'aa here. Ops is receiving your telemetry now - the datastream
appears nominal.]

"Excellent." Aristi smiled as a map of the area appeared on the
instrument's oversized screen. She cycled through the various views
the thing offered, for the moment settling on the infrared data as it
gave her the best picture of the site overall. "Our first goal is to
get an overall survey of the site; if we can determine the location of
the city's center, this will go much more quickly. Any help you can
provide from your 'eye in the sky' would be most appreciated, sir."

[My recommendation is to follow the terrain. Scans are showing the
ruins of buildings similar to those built during Earth's early
pre-Columbian period on the Yucatan peninsula. There are no pyramids
per se, but there seems what may be a temple or administrative complex
in an advanced state of decay at bearing zero-four seven.]

Aristi closed the commlink, then moved back towards Brian and flipped
the instrument around so he could see the screen. "My team will begin
with a general site survey of the northern and eastern areas of the
ruins," she explained, dragging a finger along the screen to indicate
specific areas. "With luck, we can finish that before sundown. And
once the 'big picture' is complete, we can begin filling in the
details."

"Very well," Elessidil replied. "We'll move toward the complex K'aa
identified to see if there's anything unusual there."

She nodded, then turned back to the rest of the group. "Cadet
Sullivan, Petty Officer Tombs, you're with me."

Brian nodded and assembled his own team. "Mr. Saiyk....you still with us?"

Since the moment he beamed down the sandy haired Vulcan had been
silently luxuriating in the sheer warmth of this wonderful planet.
Little shivers of delight involuntarily running down his arms as for
the first time in weeks he felt warm.

~~Sunshine.....a wonderful thing.~~~ he mused.

Of course, being the logical Vulcan that he was, he couldn't actually
show how much he was enjoying things, so in the end he ended up
standing perfectly still looking like a dolt.

"Mr. Saiyk?"

"Indeed Commander." he recovered somewhat smoothly. "I
was....studying the ambient lighting....I am prepared for our survey."

Miracles ....

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

The transporter room. A place of wonder (or debased heresy, dependant upon whom you ask), carefully conjured, controlled, computed, compiled. In two individual rooms a dozen plus 2 stood, awaiting the inevitable. Spears of cerulean light enveloped 12 bodies from top to bottom as the operators slid their virtual consoles. Clothes, equipment, organic material: all carefully unraveled by the energizer coils and wrapped together in a compact stream of information energy as thick as the Glucose Molecule.

They are now as close as one can physically get without becoming intimate, molecules co mingling in carefully oriented harmon-.

Down to the Pattern Buffer, they swim in a sea of electromagnetic fields, stabilizing the information pattern as the other components of the system set to work. Through specialized waveguide channels the delicate packets of information passed, EPS taps at regular intervals giving revitalizing signal boosts every few meters. External Hull Transporter Emitter Pads - the end of the line. Strategically placed along the hull, these multi-function devices had already began their jobs - annular confinement beams projected down to the planet, phased just right to allow the arriving matter streams a clear path down. Trees, avians, even most inorganic material could be safely ignored.

At the end of the ACB, the longest single path the matter stream has to travel and the most likely place for something to go wrong, the process which started it all is compiled almost in reverse. Those brilliant spears shimmer down, seeming to appear out of thin air. A telltale shimmering any practiced ear would know accompanied the materialization of the dozen figures that only scant seconds before had disappeared off of the twin platforms on board the Great Lady of Space.

A lone member of the dozen checks to make sure everything is where it should be - miracle it may be, but things happen - while the rest fan out; everyone oblivious to the proximity they shared for the briefest of moments.

"The Investigation" Part 3

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Victor Krieghoff, Security Second
Lt. T'Pol "8-ball" Hunter, Sciences
Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering
Ens. Alexandra Lee, Engineering
Cwm. Jonathan Smithwick, Medic (NPC)

****

Victor paused, one foot on a cluster of pale, ghostly vines that had never seen the light of day as they'd grown over the door to the lift shaft, and the other on the opposite wall of the turbolift shaft, and shined his light upwards. "We're clear," he informed the group at the open door. "The lift car's not stopped on the Bridge level. It looks like the vines couldn't get in here with the doors closed, so the emergency access ladder is free."

Considering that the lift doors had required some judicious phaser-cutting to get open, Victor wasn't sure that he wanted to be in a narrow, enclosed space with a plant that was capable of prying something that solidly sealed open. He directed the light downward, and saw the top of the lift car two decks down, the emergency hatch on the top open.

"The lift car is two decks down, blocking the shaft," he continued. "The emergency hatch is open, so someone was either in it and survived this - which I find unlikely - or a survivor opened it from this side to check for other survivors or access to a lower deck. I'm not seeing any light through the opening, so it's likely that the car doors are jammed. Might want to check for remains if we get a free minute - sealed in like this, the local wildlife won't have gotten to them."

Privately, Victor doubted that they'd find anything there; the enclosed space of the lift shaft should have reeked of death, even after two centuries, and he hadn't smelled a thing. If anyone had died here, their bodies had been moved and buried outside - although he hadn't seen any signs of a burial ground outside, either. Perhaps the survivors had moved a bit further afield to entomb their dead? Or maybe they hadn't bothered? If so, then there should have been *some* sign of human remains in the section of the ship they'd traversed.

Unless, of course, the vines had fed off of the remains and completely absorbed them?

If that was the case, he hoped that whatever crewman or aggregation of crewman he'd sliced through to get to the lift shaft door and was now standing on were in a forgiving mood.

Turning his attentions upward again, he leaned back out, assisted by the angle of the ship that meant that he was essentially trying not to fall as gravity pulled him away from the ladder, and shone his light up at the Bridge doors. "Bridge doors are closed," he reported. "If all of you are good to make the shift from the corridor to the ladder unassisted, I'll move up and see if the doors are jammed."

"Shouldn't be too difficult to manage," Iniara replied, looking at the rest of the team, then back into the turboshaft as she watched Victor move slowly upwards.

Alex stood by as she waited for those above her move on. It definitely had been an interesting mission. To climb through and ancient and lost experimental vessel was something that interested her. As a child, she loved museums, especially military and Starfleet Museums.

Nara just kept scanning with her tricorder as she watched the others and finally followed.

Pulling herself against the open door Iniara leaned forward and got her hands around one of the metal rungs, waiting for Victor to get far enough up the shaft before joining him on the ladder. She tensed as the metal groaned softly under the full weight of her body, but once it became apparent the ladder wasn't going to tear off the wall and send them tumbling down a few decks, she began to ascend.

8-ball followed her carefully, also not particularly thrilled with the put-upon sigh of metal meeting exhaustion. She climbed slowly. She was capable of climbing faster, but it was still disgustingly hot and she wasn't wasting energy when she didn't have to. Even without much speed, the climb felt torturous. The heat was oppressive, pressing in from all sides.

When 8-ball safely got back to her own ship, she was throwing a bucket of water over her head and not moving for hours.

Ahead of them, Victor, who had waited until Iniara was in the shaft and had a good handhold before starting the climb up one deck to the Bridge doors, was thankful yet again for the exercise program that he'd started years back under Captain Brhode's orders. Ordinarily even a reversed incline climb like this wouldn't have been a strain, but the oppressive heat and humidity inside the ship dragged on him fully as hard as the pull exerted by gravity. Once there, he got a secure hold on the ladder, wiped his face and checked the manual release for the doors. It was dusty, and once he'd wiped it off and tried it, jammed.

"Door release is jammed," he called down. A moment's work freed the hand crank to winch the doors open and he tried it carefully, having no desire to lose his hold and fall through the shaft, sweeping up additional Team members, to crash into the roof of the elevator car below. "The manual opening gears seem to be working," he added, "but I'm going to need some help to get the doors open because of the angle - I can't get enough leverage with one hand to break them loose. I need a volunteer."

Nara leaned against the wall and rested a moment as she checked her scans.

"Right behind you," Iniara called up the shaft. Under normal circumstances she would have deferred to someone who was less likely to freak out in such close proximity to Victor, but she had no desire to climb back down, and then repeat the part of the climb she'd already completed. Now all she wanted was to get this done quickly so they could complete the mission and get back to the ship. There was a nice cold shower waiting for her when she got back to her quarters, after all.

8-ball was glad that she hadn't been the first to follow Victor-not that she minded being near him so badly, just--she wasn't a big fan of the word 'volunteer'. People always needed volunteers for the painful or dangerous stuff. 8-ball made a lousy volunteer. It was problematic, sometimes, while serving in a naval fleet.

Cautiously Iniara made her way up the rest of the ladder, deliberately keeping as much distance between her and Victor as she could. Thankfully, the psi blockers were still doing their job reasonably well, and Victor wasn't putting off more than a normal level of creepy vibe, but being in a dark, cramped space with him was still unnerving. "Let's make this quick," she told him, knowing that he wouldn't need an explanation as to why.

It took her a minute, but 8-ball eventually realized that Iniara was not the only volunteer that Victor had called down for. "Godammit," she muttered quietly and then started to climb again, continuing in her slow pace... Death Junior and Iniara could just wait. 8-ball frowned as she made her way up to them. She'd really have to come up with some sort of nickname for the half-Betazoid commander.

The space at the top of the ladder was pretty cramped with just Victor and Iniara themselves. Throw in a cute little half-Vulcan and there simply wasn't any air left to breathe. 8-ball was pressed up so close against Victor that she almost felt like she was betraying her friend Ella. "Jesus," 8-ball muttered, as she helped the others work on cranking open the door. "This would be a mighty... interesting ménage a trois, if it only... wasn't... so fucking... HOT."

The doors shuddered, broke free with a 'pop' that sounded like a cannon in the confined portion of the lift shaft, and slowly began to open under the pressure of the manually-cranked gearing. A wave of dusty air washed down into the shaft, leaving a light spattering of dust across the heads and upper bodies of those in the shaft as the atmosphere exchanged. Half a meter the doors crept open, then a full meter - and then they froze, three-quarters open, and refused to budge against the force that Victor, Iniara, and 8-ball exerted.

"Okay," Victor hissed, his arm straining against the crank's back-pressure as the doors attempted to close. "One of you get inside past us and engage the lock so they'll stay open. It'll be in a panel on the right-hand side of the door - just pull the lever down and it's locked."

"Whoever's lightest, please," Iniara added, her voice half-muffled from the awkward position she was now in. "This ladder is over 200 years old and I don't know how much more weight it can hold."

8-ball didn't think she could move if she tried. Besides, she'd already volunteered once and that should totally last her for the next twenty minutes.

Looking around, Nara asked, "Ok, ladies, be honest now... Who weighs what?"

Though Alex hated to get near Lt. Krieghoff, she swallowed and began the climb as the ladder rungs creaked and groaned with each foot and hand. After a moment she exhaled as she managed to squeeze between the pretzel of XO, 8-Ball, and Lt. Krieghoff at the top of the ladder. She was thankful that the rungs had held as she pulled herself onto the bridge deck. She located the lever and pushed it down with her weight as the lever was stiff. A clicking sound emitted from the door as they locked into place. "That should do it, Commander."

Victor looked at the two women, raised an eyebrow, and slowly relaxed the tension he was applying to the crank. There was a fain groan, followed by a 'clock' as the locking gears met... and then nothing. "Feels like it's going to hold," he nodded. "You two go on and get in, and I'll wait until you're through - just in case it slips; I'll have the best chance of holding the door so no one gets caught."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant; you're in the middle," Iniara said to 8-ball. She inched over as much as she could so the woman would have enough space on the rungs to climb (and hopefully avoid stepping on their fingers as she did).

8-ball did her best not to injure anybody, but she was pretty sure her feet landed on something vaguely fleshy-shaped at least once. She wriggled upwards and decided that if the bridge was otherwise unoccupied by bloodthirsty aliens and spider monkeys, she would be collapsing on the floor and not moving for HOURS--to hell with the mission.

Once Lt. Hunter had made it through, Iniara quickly followed suit. Pulling herself through the door and onto the bridge was a bit harder than she'd anticipated, but she chalked her shaking arms up to the fact that she'd just been hanging onto a rickety ladder and operating a gear crank that hadn't been touched in over two hundred years. Not quite ready to drag herself into a standing position just yet, Iniara somewhat awkwardly made it to her knees, leaning one shoulder against the wall so she would be prepared to offer a hand up to anyone who needed it.

Victor accepted the XO's hand even though he didn't strictly need it, since the strain in his left arm from supporting his right while they'd operated the manual opener left him unwilling to trust it completely without a rest. Once inside, he moved to the open panel where the locking mechanism was and double-checked it before spot-welding the lock in place as an added safety precaution.

Nara followed through, still scanning. She felt like she should constantly keep scanning.

Behind her, Crewman Smithwick brought up the rear, though perhaps a bit more quickly than anyone had expected. Though he would never admit it, the young man did not want to be the last one stuck in a hallway with nothing but creepy-looking, colorless vines for company.

Once everyone had made it through Iniara got back to her feet, pleased to see the pair of engineers already working on the only console that seemed to have any power running to it. She activated her flashlight once more, sweeping it around the area so she could get an idea of the bridge's overall layout.

Nara tapped at the console, trying to find what systems worked, "So, what's the priority to get up and running?"

"Wow." John pulled his way along the still intact piece of railing behind the command chairs, stopping to drag a hand reverently across the back of the center seat. "I never thought I'd see one of these outside of a simulation," he commented to no one in particular.

"I don't think any of us did, Mr. Smithwick," Iniara replied. Though she appreciated the man's enthusiasm, she was still anxious to complete the mission and get back home. For some reason being on the bridge suddenly seemed very wrong to her, as if the very act of being in this ship was somehow desecrating the memory of those who had crewed her, those who had gone down with her...those who had died with her. She'd felt a similar feeling years ago on the bridge of the ruined Deep Space Five, and fervently hoped this situation wouldn't turn out as badly as that one had.

8-ball frowned as she looked around the bridge, feeling her way around the darker corners of the room. The place was undeniably creepy, even without the presence of bloodthirsty aliens, and though she was desperately tired, she didn't think she'd lie down on this floor for all the world. It seemed like the kind of place you'd find bodies, twisted, grotesque corpses popping out from behind consoles. It seemed like the place you'd step forward and feel something sticky and red beneath your feet.

In actuality, there were no bodies nor any blood nor any bones. And that, somehow, seemed worse . . . an empty graveyard waiting for someone to occupy it...

"Any chance we can get some lights working in here?" the XO abruptly asked, pulling herself towards one of the other mostly undamaged consoles. One of the panels above it was missing, but otherwise it looked fine. "Something on this boat aside from the emergency beacon has got to still work."

Nara nodded enthusiastically, "I'll see what I can do."

"They used a solar panel to trickle charge the beacon," Victor observed aloud, while the part of him that had lived Chulak's life reflected that it was an elegant solution to the problem. "Why go that route instead of just adding more batteries?" He moved to a series of panels, checked his tricorder, and opened one, revealing an empty space. "Emergency Locker 1 has been emptied out," he reported. Moving around the Bridge, he checked the other three lockers. "So have Locker 3 and Locker 4. Locker 2 holds environment suits, which they wouldn't need here, but the suit batteries and tool kits are missing. Someone survived - and they cleaned the Bridge out of easily portable useful gear."

"Maybe they didn't want to take the chance that the batteries would run out? Or maybe they took all the batteries with them when they left the ship," Iniara mused as she made her way towards the console. "Makes me wonder how long they were expecting to be here..." And just where they ended up, she added mentally; thus far there was no evidence to suggest any sort of survivors' camp, or even just a series of graves, anywhere on the planet's surface.

"Lieutenant Hunter," Smithwick called out, stepping slowly towards her, "could you take a look at these tricorder readings? They're a bit, well, strange."

8-ball glanced up from the console she'd been examining and sighed a little. "Of course they are," she said. She had come to expect nothing less from an away mission, at least not one for the Galaxy. Supposedly, in other parts of the universe, there were away missions that went smoothly, with no mystery or psychotics or goo to get in the way of the mission at hand. Of course, such missions were no doubt boring. The Galaxy was a lot of things, but it wasn't boring.

She moved over to stand near Smithwick and glanced at Smithwick's tricorder. She frowned, took it in her hand, shook it a little, and frowned harder. "Here," she said, giving it back to him, and examined her own tricorder. She moved around a bit, biting her lip, and then looked back at the medic.

"Strange," 8-ball said.

Iniara watched the pair conferring, waiting until it seemed like they had come to some sort of a conclusion, before asking, "Strange how?"

8-ball glanced up at her. "Well," she said. "It's weird enough that we haven't found any bodies. There ought to be human remains on this ship or at least markers on the planet, a gravesite, a memorial, something to indicate the passing of those who died here. But even if everybody on board spontaneously poofed into another plane of existence or were eaten by the creepy spider monkeys indigenous to the area . . . that might explain the lack of cadavers, but it doesn't explain this."

"Explain...what?"

"According to Smithwick's tricorder scans and, for that matter, according to my own, there is no human DNA present anywhere on this bridge. And there should definitely still be DNA, some genetic material that we can pick up on, but there's nothing. There's not a trace. There's no evidence that anything human walked this ship."

"That's odd," Alex commented on the DNA absently as she was busy helping Nara. She felt butterflies in her stomach at being among the first to explore this ship. She really wanted to get a look at the ship's engineering section. As Alex removed a panel the jumped back, dropping the panel in the process at the instant hiss and strike of the coiled up snake. Luckily the snake's attack struck the panel and not her. On the snake's second hiss, she drew her phaser and fired, striking and killing the snake. "I hate snakes," she breathed with a sigh of relief at seeing the now lifeless body of the snake.

"For the record," Victor observed, as he lowered his own, unneeded, phaser. "That life form didn't walk in - no feet."

"Yes sir, but...that snake isn't human," John replied, eyeing it cautiously even though it was no longer moving. "I mean...I don't think it is?" He'd heard stories in Basic, stories of people turned into plants or rocks or even overgrown fish, just because of something strange they'd encountered on a mission somewhere. Before now, he'd dismissed those stories as weird tales meant to frighten new recruits, but now he wasn't so sure. He gulped and moved closer, sweeping his tricorder experimentally over the snake.

Victor decided not to mention his theory about the food source for the vines that crawled throughout the ship.

Nara seemed only slightly phased. "With all we've experienced, I'm sure it's run of the mill paranormal."

"Okay, I think that's enough speculation for now. Let's focus on the objectives at hand," Iniara reminded them. "Make a note of the DNA thing-- the next round of teams can investigate more thoroughly."

Before Smithwick could comment on his findings, the lights emitted a whine as Nara's ministrations to the panels bore fruit. Several panels blinked into partial life, and, a moment later the overhead lights flickered, failed, flickered again, and finally caught, lighting up the Bridge in a pale greenish-white light that indicated that the bulbs that were immensely past their recommended replacement life.

"That was fast," Victor nodded appreciatively. "I didn't think that you could get anything powered up without rewiring half the ship.

"Good work," Iniara agreed. Now that we've got some power running, see if you can get any of the mission logs or captain's logs downloaded. If you have to, pull the physical data storage and we'll get the data back on the ship; I don't want to go back empty-handed. And go ahead and shut off that beacon. It's obvious that help arrived a couple hundred years too late."

"Welcome Home Redshirt"

Crewman Jonathan "Smitty" Smithwick, Medic
Crewman Stephen "Mac" McElroy, Torpedoman

*****
Enlisted Crew Quarters

"Smitty, you're alive."

The owner of the voice, an almost too-thin man with black hair and
brown eyes, looked up from his small desk just long enough to favor
his roommate with a sarcastic grin, then turned back to the pile of
tiny parts before him.

"Such compassion," Smitty replied with a shake of his head. "It's
touching, Mac, really touching."

Mac snorted, then picked up something that looked almost like a very
miniaturized warp nacelle, turning it around several times in his
hands before placing it on the desk again. "Can you blame me, man? I
half expected you to come back from that away mission in a little
box." He paused, going for the warp nacelle again, then added, "More
than half, actually."

"So you think I can't handle myself on an away team or something?"
Smitty called out from inside the room's tiny closet, his voice half
muffled from the mass of clothes inside.

"Maybe."

After a moment Smitty emerged, now wearing a loose white shirt and
grey pull-on pants. In one hand he held a pair of soft-soled slip-on
shoes, in the other was what looked to be the uniform he'd been
wearing just moments ago. "Hah," he said, dropping the shoes to the
floor. "What is that you're messing with, anyway? Some kind of kid's
toy?"

"It's a model ship, not a toy," Mac replied, his voice almost sullen.
"It's a Miranda class."

"Whatever." Smitty set his rolled-up uniform on the edge of the desk,
then sat down at the edge of his bunk and pulled his shoes on. "Kid's
toy."

"It is not," Mac tried to defend himself, "and I'll thank you to keep
your dirty uniforms away from my..."

Mac's voice trailed off. "Uhh..." He leaned forward slightly,
sniffing experimentally at the pile of fabric. "Uhhh...oh good lord!
What is that smell!?" he finished, pushing back against the desk so
hard he almost fell backwards in his chair.

Smitty couldn't help but laugh, and loud. "That, my dear roommate,"
he answered, grabbing the bundle of soiled clothing and tapping the
nearby door control, "is the delicate aroma of the strange oozings and
excrement of at least half a dozen alien plants and animals, none of
which tried to eat me, or telepathically control me, or poison me, or
impregnate me, or otherwise harm me in any way."

"Ah. Oh..." Mac's face suddenly lit up with realization. "So you
picked up an exotic disease and it's going to be a slow death, then."

One foot already out the door, Smitty frowned at his roommate. "Mac.
What is it with you and my impending death or whatever?"

"Haven't you ever heard of the redshirt curse?"

"The what?" Smitty tapped the door control again, closing it. "What
the heck is a redshirt curse?"

"It's...just...okay, this is your first posting out of Basic, right?
And so you get sent on an away mission...with *five* officers, one of
which is the freakin' ex-oh. If anyone is going to die in that group,
it's you."

"I don't get it."

Mac sighed. "Five officers. You. You die, probably screaming.
Officers live another day. Redshirt curse. Get it?"

"I guess, but...I'm a medic, Mac. Unlike you, I don't wear a red shirt."

Mac sighed again, this time much louder, and slumped down in his
chair. "This tradition is well over a hundred years old, and you've
never heard of it? Clearly you're hopeless."

"Whatever Mac," Smitty repeated, his hand on the door control once
more. "Yep, you and your little toy ship are much less hopeless than
I am."

"Hey! It's a model ship, *not* a toy!"

"Uh huh." Smitty nodded slowly, then finally pressed the door button
again. "Just keep telling yourself that. I'm off to the gym. See
you later, Mac."

Mac snorted, trying to appear indignant...which of course was undone
by the friendly wave he gave his departing roommate. "See you later,
redshirt."

"Starfleet Heroes in Tactics"

Lt. Commander Th'Khiss K'aa, Chief of Operations
Leo Streely, Saviour of the Universe, Former Jedi Master.
and one of the 'Richest Men in the Universe' according to Fortune
Holomagazine 2379

Chief of Operations' Office
===================

"Lemme get this straight...", the small rotund man said as he took a
long drag from his hand-rolled Macanudo and blew a delicate smoke-ring
of bluish haze over the desk and into the face of the gaunt officer
sitting opposite. "You've never heard of the Galaxy's Starfleet
Heroes in Tactics? The department's friggin' famous! AND it has the
personal seal of approval from Admiral John-friggin'-Q Brhode, who
outweighs your skinny ass by... like... a bajillion-to-one, savvy?
So, am I gonna get my holodeck time, or am I gonna gave ta make a few
calls?"

What seemed like a permanently etched frown seemed to deepen on
Th'Khiss K'aa's face. Leo Streely's patchwork file was on his
monitor, and indeed John Brhode's name did appear at least a half a
dozen times on the incredibly lengthy document, but its frequency was
dwarfed by the use of the words "deranged", "philanderer", "leech" and
most significantly "deviant". Federation Standard was also
significantly malleable in its vocabulary, and the number of relative
synonyms for the most common four nouns numbered in the hundreds.

"Calls", the Ops Chief growled. "Who would listen to you Mister
Streely?"

"What... you're kiddin', right?" Leo asked as the Cuban cigar dangled
from his mouth. "You *gotta* be kiddin' me! You KNOW who'd listen to
me, Mister Green Jeans! That's right, I heard all about yer 'I was a
lizard an' now I'm not' schtick, an' I'm not fallin' for any of that!
You had somethin' to do with by buddy Raven getting his arm made
hamburger, an' I 'aint forgetting that. I'm gonna bust your balls
when you least expect it buddy... an' I'm gonna use a SLEDGEHAMMER -
you get me? Now... er... uh... where was I?"

"Your call to Admiral Brhode."

"Frikkin' A, buddy", Leo slapped a hairy palm on the table and shifted
his cigar to the side of his mouth. "John Q. Brhode. I learned
everythin' about bustin' balls from Brhode... an' he wrote the
frikkin' book. SO..." Streely said as he settled back down in his
seat. "You gonna play the game... or are you gonna bear the name?"

K'aa's eyebrows came together with a sneer as his eyes bore into the
pudgy human, otherwise he remained completely still as he weighed his
options. "Mister Gaal..."

[Gaal here Commander. How may I be of assistance?]

"Open a priority channel to Starfleet Command to the office of Admiral
Brhode", K'aa said in a raspy voice tinged with anger. "Patch him
through when
you've reached him."

[Aye sir. Because ambient radiation and bandwidth restrictions, we
may only be capable of an audio link. Is that acceptable?]

"Perfectly acceptable Mister Gaal. K'aa out."

"Woah, woah, woah, WOAH!." Leo was on his feet, holding both hands
before him and waving frantically before the Ops Chief. "Brhode's a
busy man! We can hash this out ourselves, K'aa ol' buddy! We don't
need to get..."

[Brhode here], came a tired, grating voice from over the comm. [And
I'm more than a little pissed that some snotty excuse for an
Commander's seen fit to interrupt a strategy session. In case you
hadn't heard Commander, there's a war on and some of us thought it
might be a good idea to win it. So, do you have anything to say
before you're transferred Earthbound to clean Academy latrines?]

"Yes Admiral", K'aa said without a glimmer of emotion other than
annoyance. "Mister Streely would like to speak to you."

[Leo?], the voice asked, then repeated, developing into something of a
growl. "LEOOOO..."

"Hey! Boss", Streely laughed nervously. "How're they hangin'? They
treatin' you OK over there? Food's good? You gettin' enough..."

[Leo], the voice growled dangerously, becoming little more than an
angry whisper. [Do you have any idea WHAT you've interrupted? What
the hell's so important that you need my attention?]

"The Starfleet Heroes in Tactics. boss", Leo said quickly. "You
know... S.H.I.T.! This mook K'aa won't give me the fourteen-hours
holodeck time for the 'Orion Hareem' training mission and..."

[You... interrupted... me... for... S.H.I.T.?]

"Well... yeah... kinda..."

[Leo... I'm... actually at a loss for words. The few that are
registering are 'idiot', and 'moron'.]

"Boss... don't be too hard on yourself... you're overworked, and..."

[Shut up Leo], the voice grated, then remained silent for a minute,
giving Leo time to find the butt end of his stogie and take a long,
nervous drag.

[Alright... this is what's going to happen. Commander
K'aa...]

"Admiral...", the Gorn said as he continued to glare at the suffering
Steely opposite him.

[You'll give Leo here exactly one hour's worth of deck time for his...
ah... Special High Intensity Training, per ship's day cycle.]

"Aye sir."

[And Leo...]

"Yeah boss?"

[You'll give your 'department' Mister K'aa's people support on the
Delta-Epsilon Evasion Program's Strategic High-warp Insertion Team.
The Commander will fill you in on the details. Understand?]

"You got it, Brhode", Leo chimed with a broad smile and a loud clap.
"Me an' the Commander here'll work our asses off for the project, sir!
You can count on us!"

[Speaking of asses... both of you know exactly what'll happen you
yours if you EVER call me again. Am I clear?]

"Absolutely, Admiral", K'aa grated.

"Oh yeah, I remember back in the old days when you'd get choked at
someone... boy, gotta admit boss - you got..."

[Leo...]

"Uh, yeah boss."

[One more word and I'll rescind the order and reassign you to as
Lieutenant Krieghoff's personal valet.]

"Shutting up boss."

[Brhode out.]

"YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT!!" Leo danced his traditional
'happy dance' with glee and gusto, jeering at the disgruntled Ops
Chief with both middle fingers. "How bout THAT! Huh? Wait... do you
hear that? Huh? HUH? That's the sound of ME kicking YOUR ass!
OHHHHH YEAHHHHHH!"

"Computer", K'aa said quietly, still focusing on the sweaty humans
beaming smile. "Begin Mister Steely's allotted holodeck time on
Holodeck Two, starting... now."

"Now? Holodeck Two!! That's (one... two,,, thee... four.. five)
FIVE decks down!"

"Six. I'd start running if I were you."

Leo ran. He might have enjoyed yelling at the skinny Ops Chief for a
while longer, but the 'Orion Hareem' Ops was running, and he had to
replicate at least two quarts of vodka for the mission. Maybe three.
And some water wouldn't be such a bad idea.

When Streely had bolted from the door, K'aa had slowly risen from his
desk
and made sure the annoyance was truly on his way. He then entered the
vast
Operations center and quietly approached Lieutenant Gaal's
workstation. The Tellarite was closing down the voice alteration
program they had hacked from Intel.

"Delta-Epsilon Evasion Program's Strategic High-warp Insertion Team,
Mister Gaal? A most curious acronym."

Gaal shrugged his neck-less, hairy shoulders. "Sorry sir - I got
'caught up' in moment. Do you think he bought it?"

"Like a Klingon buys bloodwine, Lieutenant", K'aa said as he looked at
the open door to the corridor. "Greedily, and with little thought
involved."

"If I may, sir", Gaal began as he rose from his desk. "Why?"

"It keeps him distracted", the Chief of Operations said with a slight
grin finally cracking his normally stony expression. "And it keeps
him under my thumb, so to speak. In the event the Captain becomes...
incapacitated, it always helps to have a contingency plan. Mister
Streely is one of them."

"Leo? Really?"

"Really, Mister Gaal", K'aa reflected as he turned back into his
office, mulling on the clerical error that permitted Leo Streely
certain 'Captain's' privileges under certain circumstances, and the
best way to exploit them.

"'Shit', as some vulgar humans like our Mister Streely are wont to say
'happens'."

"what about the mission"

Th'Khiss K'aa
Operations Manager

Paige Sullivan
Operations Cadet

---

Cadets weren't usually included in departmental briefings, but
Lieutenant Micro-manage had finally given into her incessant pestering
and let Paige sit-in (under penalty of death if she said a word). Not
doubting for an instant just how serious he was about that, she
remained quiet, sitting in the back and watching with intense interest
as Lieutenant Commander K'aa -- in a very human body -- delivered the
mission briefing to the assistant chief and the six sub-department
heads (communications, software management, software programming, data
management, hardware, general I.T. support).

Frankly, the Martian girl thought, unable to keep her eyes off the
rather... unassuming human that Lieutenant Commander K'aa had become,
this was far creepier than the Gorn.

Her introduction to the Hydran in a Gorn suit was brief to say the
least, nothing more than a quick hello and shake of the claw before he
went on to bigger things (incapacitating the captain) and she went
about biting off more than she wanted as a "cadet with ambition".
This ambitious persona and reputation that had built itself around her
since the performance with Kreighoff's holding cells could not have
been further from the truth, but as of yet she'd been unable to shake
it. Everything just seemed to work out okay, and even her mistakes
were accepted with a certain level of awe and appreciation because she
at least had the tenacity to fuck-up with gusto -- the exact words the
lieutenant used in her review. It was fine, being recognized and even
half-appreciated, but it was certainly making her less than well liked
amongst many of the other cadets in her cruise, not to mention the
fact that more often than not it the recognition was just
embarrassing.

In Paige's mind, ambition could go lie with Foss, but curiosity...
that was something to embrace. And that was exactly what had brought
her to the Operations briefing room.

The meeting adjourned and the officers all stood and began to shuffle
out to get started on the mission preparations. She saw her
lieutenant motioning for her to leave, his face taunt with a healthy
amount of stress (after all, he had a lot of reading to do for the
mission). She hesitated, debating her course of action before
deciding that she couldn't resist breaking free from his leash and
taking her opportunity.

"'Commander," Paige said, voice a little softer than she wanted, a
touch of a quiver at the end of her words. "I wanted to, uhm,
introduced myself? I met you -- er, the other -- um..." Frak. "We
haven't met yet, but... I'm Paige Sullivan? I'm one of the cruise
cadets, on the hardware team." She smiled a little. "My lieutenant
was generous enough to give me the opportunity to sit in on the
meeting -- I wanted to see what departmental briefing was like."

While Th'Khiss K'aa was no longer the gaunt skeleton that came from
Alroth III, he was still incredibly thin for a human of his size and
build. Throughout the meeting the Ops Chief had moved very little and
spoke softly, giving an unsettling, saurian appearance to his slight
frame. He didn't even twitch as Paige spoke, merely looking up with
pale grey, bloodshot eyes.

"And what have your observations revealed, Cadet Sullivan?" he asked.

Staring into his haunted gaze, Paige felt a shudder threaten in the
space between her shoulder blades before it moved to rest solidly at
the base of her skull: a cold deathly chill that slowly pushed up into
her brain and invade her mind. She'd seen that look a couple times in
the eyes of the Dominion War veterans who wondered through Martian
cities, lost and bewildered, trying to find something that reminded
them of who they had once been, but never had she seen the look right
in front of her. And never in her life had it carried so much
context. For the first time, she found herself confronted with the
question: could that one day be me?

The chill only intensified when she glanced up for support and
realized that the rest of the staff had left; even her lieutenant had
decided to let the overeager kid face her awaiting fate on her own.

She cleared her throat. What was the answer to this? Did she know
it? Was there an answer...?

"I don't know, sir," she said, honestly, more toward her boots than to
the man-ghost in front of her. She cleared her throat. "I guess it's
just interesting to listen to how there's space for everyone to have
an opinion. It's kinda like a class, a little bit, but everyone has a
role here. I mean -- they do in class, too, but not... not in the
same way." Paige looked at him again, forcing herself to meet his
eyes, her expression lifting into a wincing half-smile. "But if
there's any way that we can... I mean, if there's space on the away
team for a lower hardware person to go, I'd really like to. I have
all my clearances and everything all together, they made us before..."
She was rambling and she paused a moment to figuratively step back and
look at herself in this situation. "Before we shipped out for the
cruise."

The Ops Chief didn't move for several heartbeats, choosing instead to
mull over the young woman's words - what she said, and more
specifically how she said it. During the meeting, K'aa had noticed a
number of junior officers nodding at his words, suggestions and
observations like tree-bound apes focused on a piece of fruit being
waved before them. The Cadet was one of the exceptions, and he
respected the courage it took for her to pursue her curiosity.

~Such courage really should be fostered~, he thought, drumming his
fingers on the conference table as he mulled what to do about Cadet
Paige Sullivan. He envied the 'clearances' she possessed, knowing
that it would be some time before he was fit to participate in
away-team missions. The choice before him was lamentable - send along
a 'yes-man', or an inexperienced cadet on her first cruise. K'aa
slowly smiled unpleasantly as he imagined the outraged faces of his
department's lieutenancy.

"The Galaxy is en route to the SK-321 system, having intercepted a
very ancient signal from a starship from the dawn of Federation
history," he said, emphasizing the basics of the meeting, as he
reached for a padd on the credenza behind his chair. His movements
were slow, and it seemed a lifetime before he managed to offer the
device to the young human. "Specifications on the NX-class, and
Dedaelus-class starships. Familiarize yourself with the Operational
hardware components of both - they were the most common starships of
the time. Lieutenant Gaal is preparing the away-team ordnance for the
mission - inform him you're to me put on the manifest per my... ah...
suggestion. Tell me - can you swing a machete?"

As Paige lifted the padd from his outstretched hand, she marveled at
her own ability to successfully contain her excitement, to bottle it
up inside for later when she would inevitably relay the information to
Lieutenant Gaal with a big smile on her face and a note of triumph in
her voice. She'd been told that operations cruise cadets do not go on
away missions. Full stop. Unless they were Aina Mason. Because she
was special.

"Oh, I'm halla familiar with the specs," she said, "I studied them for
a special project at the Academy and so I'm fetch when it comes to
that and--" But her inward jubilation was cut short as she computed
the 'commander's question. "Wait -- a... a machete?" she echoed.
"I've... I've never had a reason to, sir." She cleared her throat.
"I'm kep with a parrises ion mallet, though..." It was all she had
that was even approximately comparable. And that was a long shot at
best. "But I've never done anything much with knives."

"That's alright, Sullivan - plants don't make either worthy opponents
or sport." K'aa mentally added 'or food' as he briefly reflected on
the vegetable portion of his latest meal. "Just keep in mind the
temperature and the terrain - I'm not... hmmmm... completely familiar
with how humans shed heat or deal with high humidity, but you'll be
facing both on the planet. As for the jungle... make sure your
machete is replicated with a keen edge - and bring a sharpening stone
along with you. You'll thank me for it later."

She stared at him blankly a moment, the words not really making sense
until it clicked into place that he wasn't actually human all
appearances to the contrary.

"Shed heat," she repeated the bizarre phrase. It wasn't something she
had ever worried much about; even with the terraforming, Mars --
especially her part of Mars -- remained rather chilled and very dry
cycle round. Aside from Academy simulations, heat and humidity were
rather foreign to her. "Don't worry about me. Spike, my new roommate
-- he's Vulcan, and trying to podden me outta the place. Between the
steam from his showers and his love affair with central heat. Y-a."

K'aa opened his mouth about to say something about human scent and
covering one's spoor when he thought better of it. Humans, as he was
discovering all too well, were touchy when it came to their abundant
personal scent. They didn't hunt with it, or mark their territories
with it, but seemed obsessed with masking their personal odor - the
female of the species in particular. While scans of the planet
revealed little about the native fauna, the Gorn doubted that any of
them would seek to track the variety of lavender that the cadet chose
to mark herself with.

"Well... as long as you're prepared," he managed at last. "Your party
will be departing from transporter room three."

"I -- thank you, sir, I hal --" She paused, cleared her throat, then
said slowly and precisely, "thank you, I appreciate the opportunity."

The cadet made a move that was something like a clumsy bow before she
backed out of the office as though he was royalty or, perhaps more
appropriately, something untrustworthy that she had to keep an eye on.
She turned away at the door, disappearing around the corner. She
paused as soon as she was out of view to look down at the padd and she
grinned as the reality settled in.

Paige suppressed the squeal that was normally part of a girl's
jubilation dance, for a moment not noticing the questioning glances of
the other members of the department. She glanced up at them, and then
waved the padd.

"I'm going on an away mission!" she said, loud enough for most of them
to hear, before she turned and half-skipped back toward the core-room,
visibly fighting to retain some bit of composure as she went.

"If we're lucky," one lieutenant junior grade said to another, "she'll
be the one to get eaten by something."

Unique

Consular Attaché Marra T'Rawn
Liaison Officer
NCC-70637 USS GALAXY
(Alice)

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

With shower done and all the tiny things that were improving mood after
that, including gentle makeup and fresh clothes, Marra sat down in her new
quarters thinking of what she should do next. Since she was assigned and was
given security clearance, she made sure to go through crew manifest to
familiarize herself with future colleagues. Mostly because of that. By now,
she knew that the crew was... to put it mildly - unique. Which actually was
a good thing, since she considered herself above most standards Starfleet
could offer and there would a lot challenges while working with people like
crew of this ship.

She was surprised with no welcoming committee, but as she had thought about
it, it might be because she was just another replacement. Not like so far, a
Romulan on a diplomatic mission, part of diplomatic staff of the Romulan
ambassador. Oh, well. She probably should report to her superior. On the
other hand though, she had a whole Galaxy-class cruiser at hand reach and
she was tempted to go... sightseeing.

Last time she had seen one of these up close, it was... through reticule of
combat sensor grid. Things change. At least some things change. From what
she read, Galaxy was upgraded with some things standard ships of this class
do not have. Like for example... starfighter complement.

She stood up from the couch and head toward the door. With last glance over
her standard-decorated quarters, she passed noicelessly with cat-like grace
though door. Instead of going straight to her superior officer, Marra
decided to let her mind lead her, going for a stroll first. She eventually
was going to find Lieutenant Zamora, but since she didn't contact her yet...
apparently there was no rush.

Ten-Forward was looking proper to visit first, that was where on
Galaxy-class should be Mess Hall. Finding what ship cook could offer was
excellent start. She hoped that it wouldn't be a Klingon because if so, she
would stay on replicated food rather than eat something made by Klingon.

"Growing Pains"

Lt. Victor Krieghoff
Lt. Shelley O'Rourke

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 39
Security Main

He should be down there.

Victor knew that with a conviction that was unshakable, a certainty that
was unassailable, and a confidence that was as unyielding as the gravity
of a collapsed star.

He should be down there, with them, watching over them, protecting them;
ensuring that the people he'd been given to protect were safe. That was
what he did, that was who and what he was; that was his existence.

He was the guardian monster at the doors to danger, set there to keep
the other monsters of the universe away from that which had been given
to him to protect. He fought and killed and took the injuries that would
otherwise be inflicted on those he protected so that they could continue
on, unharmed. And when he failed, when they were hurt or killed despite
his efforts, then he was the dark avenger that ensured that those that
had harmed or killed his charges were themselves slain, sent into the
darkness to the fate that awaited them beyond the veil that separated
the living and the dead.

But not today. Not now. Not here.

Here, now, today, he was aboard Galaxy, a thousand miles above the
surface of a planet where the people he was supposed to protect were
potentially in danger, doing something that he'd never imagined would be
asked of him by Starfleet. He was engaged in a task that for the
majority of his life he'd never bothered to train for because he'd
understood that it would never be his. Given who and what he was, after
all, anyone that would have been insane enough to offer it to him was
far too unstable to have been allowed to remain in a command position
where they could authorize it.

But that had changed, because he had changed. It had taken three things
to effect that change; one that he'd never believed he'd have, one that
he'd only dreamed of having, and one that had never even entered into
his wildest dreams. Any one or even two of them would have failed,
leaving him as he'd always been or perhaps even worse, but the
combination of the three had done what he'd always believed impossible
and changed him on a fundamental level: the discovery that he possessed
the friends he'd never believed he'd have; the love of a woman which
he'd only allowed himself to dream about; and over a century of life
lived as another man, something that he'd never considered even in the
wildest of dreams.

Because he'd lived Chulak's life, because Angelienia loved him, and
because he'd discovered that he could have friends, he was whole now. No
longer empty, no longer distant, no longer that which he'd been. He
wasn't utterly changed - he still was what he was at his core, and
nothing appeared likely to change that. He still terrified people simply
by breathing, he still was the guardian monster he'd been his whole life
since choosing that role over the one that would have made him into
something that people needed to be protected from.

But now, now he was more than just that. Now he was capable of being
more... and that was why he was here, doing a job he'd never believed
he'd be asked to do, while the people he was supposed to be protecting
were a thousand cold empty miles of space away doing their jobs.

He was running a department.

Chulak had run a department, both before he became Victor and after
Victor became him, which meant that Victor had done it before and there
were few surprises in the mechanical aspects of the situation awaiting
him. Still, it wasn't the same, not really. Chulak's department had been
Engineering, not Security, and for every day of Chulak's life after it
became his, Victor had always known that it wasn't truly his life, it
was Chulak's. He'd done his best, which was, he had come to feel,
considerably better in some ways than Chulak alone could or would have
done, but there had always been the knowledge in the back of his mind
that it wasn't real, that it didn't carry the same weight that a life
lived when the outcome wasn't known would have.

Sitting at his desk, handling paperwork and the day-to-day routine of
keeping the Department going while crewmen - *his* crewmen - were out on
an Away Team mission and potentially in danger, he felt like the weight
of a collapsed galaxy was resting on his shoulders. He was here, they
were there... and he had to let them go, had to trust that someone else
would keep his people safe.

Because he was running a department now.

It didn't make it any easier, that knowledge. Nor did it make it easier
to accept that until Commander Corgan returned, he was chained to his
desk by metaphoric shackles forged of the purest neutronium, tied to it
and the responsibilities it represented as surely as the Captain had
hammered in the pins on the shackle at his ankle herself.

He hoped James Corgan found what he needed at the remote monastery on
Vulcan where one of his loves - T'lan - was undergoing treatment to
rebuild her mental defenses. He hoped that James, and T'lan, and Mika
used the time to discover what most of the department already knew: that
they were meant to be together, the three of them. He hoped that they
were happy, because he wanted all of his friends to be happy.

But mostly he hoped that they did all of those things very quickly and
set him free from the chains that bound him to his desk.

"That's a new one, isn't it?"

"Obviously I need to set up some kind of security perimeter to let me
know that people are entering my office," he replied, drawing his
attention away from the ceiling to the speaker, Shelley O'Rourke, once
his foremost detractor in the department, and now, oddly, one of his
strongest supporters.

"You already have one," she returned. "It's called a *doorbell*." She
pronounced the last word with exaggerated emphasis. "Most people answer
them on, oh, the third try at least."

"Third try?" Victor blinked.

O'Rourke's head bobbed in affirmation. "Third try. I gave *you* five
before I just walked in since you're not used to visitors and all that -
I figured that was enough."

"Sorry, Shelley - I didn't hear any of them." Of course, considering how
far away his thoughts had been, he might not have heard her beating on
his forehead with a hammer, either.

She paused, looked at him penetratingly for a moment, and sighed. "I was
gong to make a joke about that being a new frown and make up some bogus
- and large - number for it, but I can see it'd be wasted. What's wrong?
Bad news from home? Something else?"

That was a simple answer, and, fortunately, had nothing to do with his
family. "I'm not where I'm supposed to be."

"So where are you supposed to be if it isn't here?"

"Down there, with them," Victor waved a hand in the direction of the
planet. "Protecting my people from what's waiting down there."

"Down there where things are... Did you just say... people?" She stared
at him.

Victor ran his words back through his head. "Yes, I said 'people' - is
that important?"

"Hallelujah!" O'Rourke threw her hands up and shouted. "You're damn
right there is. You just promoted the rest of the crew to people instead
of sheep, Victor - that's a damn big step for you."

Was it? Perhaps so, but that didn't change the problem. "If you say so."

"Say so?" She threw up her hands and shouted again. "I'm shouting it to
the heavens, Vic. You've just graduated to, I don't know, Kindergarten?
Is that where humans learn that they aren't sheep?" Despite the words,
her tone revealed none of the venom she'd flung at him in years past,
just good humor.

"I wouldn't know," Victor replied dryly, "I was too busy learning how to
make my classmates go 'poopie' by frowning at them that year to pay
attention to class."

She blinked, snorted, and finally laughed once despite her attempts to
avoid it. "Damn, Vic, when did you learn to be funny?" she asked after a
second.

"I've always known how," he replied. "I just decided to stop only
telling jokes to people I was trying to kill and see how that worked for
me."

"Now *that's* the Master of Doom and Gloom that we're all used to," she
nodded, shaking her head. Then, abruptly, she changed conversational
directions, "So you're all wrapped up in gloom and brooding menace in
here because, what, it's easier to be planetside, shooting the bad
guys?"

"Not just easier, but...."

"The way things have always been?" she offered. "The way you're used to
them being? They way they're supposed to be?"

"Something like that, yes," he admitted, glad to hear the words said
aloud.

"Crap," she snapped back. "That's crap. You aren't the... whatever the
hell it was you were... that came aboard the ship years back. I'd never
be speaking to you right now if you were - I'd have transferred off the
ship or 'accidentally' shot you in the back on an Away Team mission if
so. You've grown up, everyone around you knows that, they can see it;
everyone but you. So you can't go on as many away Team missions and
shoot as many bad guys - so what? You can protect even more people from
that desk by *leading* and *directing* and *delegating* to your
department."

"It isn't..." Victor began.

"The hell it isn't!" O'Rourke snapped back. "Maybe James will be back
when he's done doing whatever he and his harem are doing on Vulcan,
maybe he won't, I don't know. No one does right now, probably including
James himself. But even if he does, until the day he steps back in
Security Main and takes the salute from you transferring command this is
*your* department, we are *your* people, and don't you ever forget it,
mister!" She stopped, slightly out of breath, her finger still pointing
at Victor.

That was refreshingly different, Victor had to admit. Being yelled at
was nothing new, but being yelled at encouragingly - by Shelley O'Rourke
no less - was different in the extreme... and enjoyable in an odd way.
The fact that she was correct, and he could admit that she was correct
only made it easier to accept and to say, "You're right. I'm just
having... growing pains... I guess you'd call them."

"Well, then," she said, taken slightly aback at his sudden acceptance.
"That was easier than I thought."

"Some things are," he returned. "Now, are you going to use that, or
leave it out there threateningly?" He nodded to her still-extended
finger.

"Do I need to threaten you some more?"

"Probably," Victor agreed pleasantly. "But not today, I think."

"Damn," she sighed, shaking her head as she pulled it back, "and I had
ammunition left, too. You never let me have any fun, Vic."

"Save it for another day, Shelley," Victor suggested. "I'm sure I'll
give you the opportunity to fire off a few shots at a big fat target
sooner or later. Now what did you need that started all of this?"

"Couple of things. First off, the new Bridge Security Detail position.
How do you want to set that up?"

"Make it a regular position on the roster," Vic told her. "Put someone
smart there on the CO's shift so they know what they're doing and we
don't look like idiots, but don't leave them there every day or they'll
get bored. Rotate it out so that no one has to pull a Bridge shift more
than once a week - we've got plenty of people to handle that. Maybe see
if we can fix it so the spot's a reward for knowing your stuff and not a
penalty detail. Set some standards and encourage everyone to meet them -
make it a badge of honor that you're good enough for the spot.

O'Rourke nodded. "Sounds workable; I'll lead off with So'ka tomorrow
morning on Alpha Shift and get a rotation roster ready before Beta Shift
today. I'll talk to Walter and some of the others and get the proposed
standards ready for you to look at by 1700 today."

"So'ka's fine, and the rest sounds good," Victor nodded. "Next?"

"Next item is the Hazard Team thing. Are you really going to go on and
hold try-outs and assemble a Team without James being here?"

That one wasn't difficult either. "Yes. If I wait, it's a certainty that
we'll wind up needing the Team and lose lives that we could save by
having it at full strength," Victor explained. "Right now, there's two
combat specialists, me and Walter; one pilot specialist, Angelienia -
who is skating on the minimum edge of personal combat qualifications;
and a medic, Maxwell, who I just signed up and haven't run through the
testing array yet. That's not a good mix if we have to do more than
fight something, and even then the odds are we'll get hurt badly doing
it." Victor would, of course, refuse permission to any of the Team to
die, but that wouldn't help them if they got shot to pieces and wound up
paralyzed like Captain M'Kantu had been - or worse.

"So we need some more technical skills, some other viewpoints, and more
members so we have increased options in how I can deploy the Team," he
continued. "Unlike James, I don't think I necessarily need to lead every
mission - there are potential missions that I'm going to be more of a
liability on than an asset, and on top of that, the acclimation time for
the rest of the Team to my presence may preclude my going on some
missions if close-quarters work will be required." He shrugged. "So,
that means more members, and that means try-outs."

"Did you listen to what you just said?" Shelley asked pointedly.

"Since I said all of that, I obviously heard it," Victor returned.

"Yes, but did you *listen* to the words? Did you understand what you
were saying and what it meant?" she pressed.

"I understand that you're not making a lot of sense, Shelley."

She sighed. "Okay, Vic, let me break it down for you. When you were
talking about the Hazard Team, you weren't saying 'when James gets back'
and 'the Commander would do it this way' - you were saying 'how *I* can
deploy the Team' and '*I* don't need to lead all the missions. That's
how a Commander thinks. That's the kind of thing a Commander would say.
You're already starting to do the right things and think the right way,
but if you keep second-guessing yourself, then this is going to turn
into a cluster frak in short order and you're going to get people hurt
or killed. So quit it, already!"

"It isn't that easy, you know," Victor said after a moment. "I've spent
my whole life knowing that if I was in trouble, no one would come to
assist me. That if I needed help, the only place that I'd find it was
within myself. That no one was going to willingly do *anything* for me
unless compelled to, whether by regulations, threats, or force. That the
only thing I could guarantee that anyone would do when I issued an order
was follow an order to run away from me." He stood up, pacing behind his
desk like a caged animal. "And now, overnight it seems that all that is
different, and that everyone wants me to act differently. Which isn't
that easy, even after I spent a century..." he caught himself and
continued, "or what felt like a century, dreaming about things being
different o the nights that I let myself dream."

He stopped and looked over one shoulder at her. "And there you stand,
you, of all people, telling me that I'm supposed to be different, that
I'm supposed to be a leader, when for most of the time I've known you
all you wanted to do was fire me out an airlock at the earliest
opportunity. How am I supposed to take that? Did that one slap you gave
me back in the Battle of Havras change you that much?"

"Confusing, isn't it?" Shelley replied with a smirk.

"Yes."

"Make you angry?"

"Frustrated, anyway."

"Good."

"Good?" Victor stared at her. "Why?"

"Because, Bucko, as long as someone is standing here, needling you,
making you angry, or irritated, or frustrated, then you're not going to
turn back into the Brooding Death Master of Depresso V on us. Like it or
not - and yeah, there are those that still aren't happy that James
picked you for his Number Two and then kited off to be with his women on
sunny Vulcan - we're depending on you to make good decisions, to lead
us."

Victor smiled. "And you've elected yourself the needle that's going to
jab me in the ass every time I start shopping for a ticket to Depresso
V?"

"That's Lieutenant Red-Hot Needle to you," she retorted.

Victor stared at her, she stared at him, and then they both laughed.
"Okay, okay, point made," he admitted after a moment. "Is there anything
else?"

"Not right now - I need to get that Bridge roster done," she admitted.

"Then go and get that done, and let me see what the last seventy-two
items in this morning's mail are," Victor told her, sitting back down.
He considered what she'd said, considered the things he'd done as Chulak
and what Chulak' father had taught him, and added, "And lock the door
open on your way out; maybe seeing me in her pulling my hair out over
paperwork will convince everyone that I'm not secretly pricing tickets
to Depresso V behind closed doors."

"Wouldn't do you any good," O'Rourke told him as she stopped at the door
and keyed the latch open for him.

"Why?"

"I blocked all the ticket-sales sites to your ID," she said with a jab
of her finger and then was gone.

"Blocked all the...?" Was there really a planet named Depresso V? Did he
care? Was he curious enough to look it up? And why had O'Rourke
nominated herself for the position of his Number Two - and personal
red-hot needle?

Before he got any more questions formed, his LCARS chimed and another
three messages landed.

"No rest for the wicked," he sighed and opened up the top message in the
queue, from the Operations Department as another two landed of the
bottom of the queue.

But, no matter how many messages he opened and dealt with, no matter
what he'd told Shelley, there was always the feeling in the back of his
mind that he should be down there, o the planet, standing between the
crew and danger.

That was, he knew in the core of his being, where he belonged.

"On The NX-19"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
Lt. (jg) Michael McDowell - Engineering
Ensign Riley McKenna - Engineering NPC
PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell, Paramedic

== NX-19 (Aiolos), Lower Decks==

The team from the Galaxy materialized in a circular formation with everyone
facing 'out' of the circle... just in case. The new captain was a stickler
for the rule book so Commander Jaxom was taking no chances and following all
procedures by the book.

Once the transport sequence was finished he tapped his commbadge to contact
the other members. "Jaxom to Smith, go ahead and secure the perimeter while
we investigate in main engineering. We'll keep this channel open."

He glanced around at the others that beamed in with him. "All right folks,
let's get this checked out."

They beamed into a more or less stable area of the engineering
section. Surface scans from the Galaxy indicated the saucer section
separated from the engineering hull on or shortly after impact.
Whoever was piloting managed to keep the ship fairly level as Jaal
observed they wouldn't have too much trouble walking.

Max nodded in acknowledgment. He felt naked without the Hazard suit that he
had recently become so accustomed to, however rules were rules as it were.
He already had his tricorder out, scanning for any biological signs.

Riley took a good look at her new surroundings. Waiting to see what was
next. Part of her was exited to explore a new ship yet she was also
reluctant to let her guard down too easily. That could easily be explained
since her parents were marines.

Jaal marveled at the ancient technology. He studied the corridor walls
and panels
with a curiosity he hadn't experienced in, literally, years. He approached
a small console caressing it's edge lovingly. He recalled the months he
spent at the Utopia Planetia Fleetyards and his work on FTL drives there.
'Wow,' he thought, then out loud he said to no one in particular, "It's
amazing this thing ever got out of dry dock."

"I'm not much for starship design and engineering," admitted Max. "But what
I can tell you is that from the time we materialized to now I have not
detected even one cell belonging to living being...excluding us, of
course." This confirmed the original scan of the Medic that beamed down with
the initial Away Team.

Meanwhile McDowell already had wandered off for about 5 to 10 meters from
the group, using his tricorder to see if there was anything interesting
nearby and shining his flashlight into several directions. He rummaged
through some loose stuff that was lying on ground and in crevice's. So far
he didn't see anything of real importance. "It's going to take some time to
find anything useful around here. A lot has been torn apart by the crash."
Michael said after he'd turned around to face the rest of the Away Team he
was with. He walked back again and stood beside Petty Officer Maxwell. "You
didn't find any living being within the ship? Not even animal or plant life?
Maybe your tricorder isn't registering it, 'cause there has to be something
alive here that found its way into this ship."

"I didn't find anything matching any species that were in service in the
Federation for the past three hundred plus years," Max corrected. "Now as
for local plant life, don't need a tricorder to see that it's ever present,"
he added pointing to a reddish stalk that was growing out of a corner.
Indeed upon broader review, one could see that in several places, local
plant life had breached their way in.

Michael looked in the direction Maxwell was pointing. "Ah, yeah, I see what
you mean."

As she was searching the room Riley couldn't hide the awed expression that
appeared on her face. "Its amazing alright. But just because its been
through a rough time doesn't mean it doesn't tell some sort of story. Every
ship has one and every engineering section is a good
place to start."

"Exactly," the Trill commander agreed. "Why don't we see if we can power up
the computer core and retrieve some logs?"

Max had bent down to get a closer scan of one of the pretty orange and
violet plants growing through the deck when he paused. At first, the
thought someone was behind him and turned only to find no one. The rest of
the team had actually walked a few paces ahead of him. A quick sweep with
his tricorder didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary, so Max went back
to collecting plant samples.

"If we're able to access the computer core then we could try to extract some
Engineering logs. Maybe they can shed some light on what happened to this
ship. If we're lucky that is. It shouldn't be too difficult to find an ODN
access port or something similar here. And an Engineering Tricorder should
be enough set up the connection with the computer." Using the back of hand
Michael wiped of the sweat of his forehead. This place was akin to a Turkish
sauna, the heat being almost unbearable. He looked slightly sideways to
Commander Jaxom. "Sir, I suggest we head up further into Main Engineering
and start looking around for one."

"I agree, Commander," Max chimed in. "I'd like to get a scan of some
other areas, as well." It was really bothering him that he could find
no trace whatsoever of the crew of this crashed ship. "And I hate to
say it...but it's hot as balls in here."

Jaal wiped sweat from his own forehead. "It 'is' hot... I wonder if
there's any chance we can re-activate the environmental controls?" he
asked somewhat facetiously. "Main engineering should be..." he
consulted his tricorder which held the deck plans of the ancient ship,
"this way." He gestured down the corridor.

"Sounds good," Max muttered and invited himself to take the lead,
which helped in decreasing the exclusionary DNA from everyone else in
the team. Again, as he continued his scans, there was not one hair
folicle, not one cell, no trace of anyone being here except the local
shrubbery and wildlife. "Still nothing, Sir," Max reported.

'That seems somewhat... odd,' the Trill commander mused to himself as
they walked cautiously towards main engineering. 'There ought to be at
least something left... even if it was a few strands of hair.'

TBC...

"Screw Popular Opinion"

Lt. JG. Ophelia Zamora
JAG

PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell, APP
EMRT

Location: Corridor

=================================
"I have heard that popular opinion around this tub has said......" She spoke before cementing her position against the corridor wall as she watched him approach.

Max smiled upon hearing her voice as he walked up to her quarters.

".....that we should just screw each other and get it over with. We are making people ill." Ophelia smiled. At times is was lovely to be so blunt. She rarely got the chance due to her duty and what was considered professional in the legal world.

"Is that so?" He replied. "Just like that, give the people what 'they' want?" Max came to a halt right in front of Lia and gave her a peck on the lips. "I've never been one for popular opinion...but I wouldn't complain on this point."

She smiled coyly at his response before responding herself. "You better not complain......I mean....look at me." Ophelia snickered before dramatically turning around.

Nope, no freaking complaints whatsoever, Max thought. Aloud, he replied, "Oh, trust me, I have no complaints when it comes to what I'm seeing right now." Indeed, Zamora's outfit added to that knockout look that she had about her.

"So.....what are we doing tonight anyway? Logan's over at a pal's house....I have the place to myself." She mused plopping herself on her couch and motioning for him to come sit beside her. "We could watch a movie...."

"We could do that," he said. "The new romantic comedy by director Shree'tash is out..." Although truth be told, Max's mind was elsewhere already.

"Meh....personally I'm just not into that type of movie. I prefer movies that are action based laced with dramatic ironies throughout." Lia paused before flipping through the small disc collection that sat on her end table. "Let's try this one....how's that?" She handed over the disc with the name of the movie engraved on it in her perfect script.

Looking over the disc, he nodded approvingly. "I always wanted to see this one."

"K." She stood, popping the disc into the console before placing herself back down on the sofa very close to him. He sat up with Lia reclining the lengthways on the couch on her side with her head resting on his knees. "Your knees are a little bony......" Reaching over, she grabbed a pillow and rested her head on it. "Much better."

"Bony-" Max protested then stopped. Instead he slid deeper into the sofa and held onto her pillow at the same time, giving her a more stable space to rest on. "Comfy, now?" he asked.

"I live for comfort....." She muttered before turning her attention to the movie.

"I live to make people comfortable," Max replied softly, absentmindedly playing with a few strands of her dark hair. He felt oddly comfortable right then and there with Lia, as if they spent many an evening relaxing like this. And not for the first time, Max felt fear. His heart begged him to reconsider, but his soul longed for completion. Which left his mind the difficult task of choosing between the two, like a father choosing between two errant children to see who would be rewarded.
The movie progressed at it's pace, loosing the couple within the story line. Half way through, Lia turned her gaze upwards with a slight tilt to her head. Max was enraptured with the drama and action, not feeling her stare at him with a conflicted inner being. Since single, she had missed the 'good' times that two people could share. Not the physical intimacy, although that was a bonus. It was the simple fact that she had not felt lonely this evening. Shifting slightly, she now caught his attention.

"Hey......." She softly spoke while reaching up to carress the left side of his face.

"Sup," he replied, slowly leaning into her caress.

"I want you to stay with me tonight.........."

"I snore," Max warned her. "You may be inclined to suffocate me just to keep me quiet..."

"Geez, and here I thought you were perfect." She stated with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Just sleep by me, nothing else....."

"I think that would be fine," Max replied. He was actually relieved that they wren't going 'all the way'. But then the Little Bad Dude suggested something insidious...

She's got ya, man. She's got you spooning with her now, but soon it'll be alphabetizing her legal briefs and making her perfectly squared pancakes in the morning...run, man..RUN BEFORE IT''S TOO-

A small smile crossed Max's features as he envisioned the Little Good Guy having enough of the little miscreant and choking the shit out of him. Aloud he said, "An no one's perfect, Lia."

"Seriously?" She stated in an overly playfull sarcastic tone.

"Seriously," Max countered with a smile. "I read it in the 'Times' just recently. Some kind of new study or other thing..."

"Huh......"

"Not once did I ever think that there were perfect people out there...just people who were perfect for each other."

"That, I have a hard time believing. No one's perfect for someone else." Zamora stood off of the couch, giving him a rather serious look. "They might *think* they are perfect for one another...until the tough stuff starts. Anyway.....is there anything you need to get from your quarters before we turn in?"

Wasn't expecting that, Max thought in surprise. Instead of engaging in debate and possibly ruining what was left of the evening, he nodded. "I should grab a change and my uniform for the morning. I swapped out Gamma Shift and will work straight though Alpha and Beta."

He stood, a little too quickly, and made for the door. "Be right back," he said over his shoulder.

"Okay...." She smiled then tilted her head wondering if he was making a fast exit to get away from her. It could be....but then again, maybe he was just so excited he wanted to get back to her quickly. "Yeah......you wish" Lia commented to herself. Wondering back to her bedroom, she slipped on her pink yoga/sleeping pants and a white crop tank top. Loosing the hair from her pigtail, she sighed and wondered back to the couch awaiting his return.

Several moments later, Max rang the door chime and upon entry Ophelia was treated to a rare site: Plaid pajamas (top and bottom) in a trichotomy of reds, blacks and greens. When he was sure the shock value had set in, Max yanked off the visually battering clothing and revealed his black long shorts and a black tank top.

She stayed silent with a look of sheer unintelligence on her face as her brain attempted to reason why anyone in the Universe would wear something so horrid. Her eyebrows stayed arched as he spoke. 'And I'm supposed to sleep next to that outfit?' She thought to herself. Visions of her father in his sleeping attire popped into her head, causing her to grimmace.

"You should have seen the look on your face," Max said, barely able to hold in his laughter.

"Well, I'm glad I could pleasure you in some way this evening." Lia shot back as she watched his expression. "Last one to the bed is a rotten Cardassian goose egg!" She bellowed with a giggle as she sprinted from the living area. She had an advantage, she knew exactly where her bed was, and he didn't.

"Oy vey," he muttered as he sprinted after her, hoping to catch sight of where the bed was and leap in before she could. Unfortunately, he earned the title of 'Rotten Cardassian Goose Egg" with honors...as he tripped over a child's toy and landed face first into the bed...with Lia watching from the comfort of said bed.

"Oh my god!" She bolted up from her comfortable position to hover over him like a mother hen. "Are you okay????"

"I'm fine, really," Max chuckled. "Just my pride is hurt, that's all."

"You poor guy...." She cooed as she cupped his head with her hands. "You sure your okay? Do you need anything?"

"Not anymore," he whispered, looking dead into her eyes.

'Oh god....' She thought to herself as Lia analyzed the gaze he was giving her. Those tiny little butterflies started in her stomach along with the voice of reason in her head. 'There's a guy in your bed......and he's giving you *that* look..." Her eyes dipped down to the comforter before she cleared her throat. "Okay....well....I...." She pointed with her thumb. "Sleep on the right side.....".
"Good, 'cause I like to sleep on the left," he informed her. Max climbed into the bed and slid under the comforter.

Lia repeated the gesture although on the right side. Turning her back towards him, she wiggled up against him and snuggled down. Closing her eyes, she smiled.

Feeling her warmth made Max even more comfortable, as he encircled her midsection with his arm and tugged towards him. Soon enough, he closed his eyes and for a time there was silence save for the air scrubbers and recirculators in the very faint background. "G'night, Lia," he said softly.

"Night Max."

(OOC: This occurs before the Galaxy leaves DS-5)


"Sons of Capella Pt. 1"

Admiral Leonard James Akaar (NPC)
Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia


A faint glow flicked the walls of the darkened room. In the the middle of the room, sat Man'darr, shirtless. The heat and humidity within the quarters had been turned up as two large lit candles sat nearby. Man'darr was forcing himself to relax despite the past weeks. Nobody on the vessel wanted anything to do with him at the moment, save for Admiral Akaar. Man'darr felt two different things for the admiral. One of admiration at being the first Capellan to enter Starfleet and for having such an illustrious and honorable career and then there was the feeling that he wanted nothing to do with the admiral---he wanted to fight his own battles. As he had done so many times before. He was Capellan....Capellan--that name had always held respect and honor for him. He prided himself on being a member of an honorable, fierce warrior race, that had even stood their ground against the Klingons during a brief, yet bloody Capellan-Klingon War before Capella had finally agreed to become a Protectorate Member of the Federation. Now, he was doing the unthinkable--he was questioning his people's motives. Had his people lost their way? Or had they simply refused to change with the times? From an early age when a Capellan child is first strong enough to hold a blade, they are trained brutally in the arts of combat. They are first trained by their fathers, or mothers and then at the age of six, are sent off to the A'Garri. The A'Garri is a brutal combat academy that trains Capellans from age six until the age of seventeen. Each say is filled with training in combat and physical fitness. They are taught that everything they do is in the service of Capella. Even those that died during the A'Garri phase had a prupose as it was a way to weed out the weak as well as offer excellent training to those who survived the A'Garri. Man'darr had not attended the A'Garri due to his father being exiled from the planet to Earth. However, his father tried his hardest everyday to train and teach Man'darr in the ways of his people.

Man'darr felt a strange sensation of floating--he didn't feel the deck anymore, as a deep voice peirced the mists of his mind. "Man'darr, you must change your path and forge a new one." Man'darr instantly recognized the voice as that of his father. In an instant, Man'darr opened his eyes, as they adjusted to the darkness of his quarters save from the light from the flickering candles. Had he imagined the voice?

The chime to his door sounded. Remaining seated, he called out. "Enter."

He watched the figure of Admiral Akaar enter the room.

Man'darr stood from the crossed legged position he had been in. "Yes, Admiral?"

"Captain, I have been in contact with both Starfleet Command and the Starfleet Marine Corps. They wish to perform a more thorough investigation behind your recent actions. Therefore, we are going to Starbase 75, where the investigation will be held."

"I thought I had been cleared of the charges."

Akaar sighed. "Not entirely, captain. I only merely had you released from the brig under my supervision."

"Thank you, however, I do not need any supervision, admiral."

"In this time, I believe you need all the help you can get and from the people's attitude aboard this vessel, it is unlikely that you will find it here. We leave for Starbase 75 in two hours."

Man'darr nodded. "Very well. I will be ready, admiral."

"Good," Akaar turned to leave the quarters but paused. "We will get through this, captain." Akaar wondered if he could indeed help out the young captain. Captain Sulu had done so once before. Only time would tell.

<TBC...>

“Arriving…”

Ensign Alex McKenzie
Tactical

Location: Transporter room #2

Alex let out his breath as the hum of the transporter ended. He knew that the sensation of hundreds of tiny stings, according to transporter experts, was merely his mind’s way of reacting to being turned into tiny bits of energy and moved form place to place. However, that knowledge did little to stop him from wanting to itch like crazy

Moving to the short line formed in front of an awaiting SecOficer who was mechanically checking PADDs presented to him from several other new arrivals. Alex waited patiently behind two Vulcans and an even more bored looking Bolian and in front of an attractive Risian. But he was too busy trying to contain his excitement at finally arriving on “The ship” to pay more than a casual interest

Although he had never sat foot on the Galaxy before he felt that he knew the ship intimately, at least its history. Some of Alex’s earliest memories were those of listening to his Father talk about the members of the crew and his adventures. He remembered most of them, The General, Thomas, Casey, Sunder and especially K'Eytyanna. The last one his Father only mentioned when mom wasn’t around and he had had a few too many to drink. It also involved the showing of a rather unique series of scars usually hidden by clothing.

He knew a lot of their adventures, some of which Starfleet, as a whole would rather forget. His father told stories of temporal travel, devious traps and daring escapes. His favorite was the story of the alternate Hunter McKenzie and someone named Hoglips. That story Dad told in whispered tones as if he wasn’t sure if speaking about it would cause some part of the tale to come to life.

As he shook out of his reminiscing as the Bolian presented his PADD to the SecOfficer Alex sighed. The Galaxy was his ship now and his chance to carve his own adventures. Even though his mother had protested his joining she eventually accepted that he “…had too much of your father in you…”

The line was moving again and he presented his PADD to the Lieutenant.
“Welcome aboard, Ensign,” Added the SecOfficer, as he scanned the PADD. “Proceed to Deck 7 and Personnel will get you settled with quarters and anything else you may need.” He handed the PADD back and reached for the Risian’s PADD effectively dismissing Alex.

Alex accepted the dismissal and adjusted his bag before moving on his way. He had his own adventures to live and now was as good a time as any…

"A walk in the Arboretum"

PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell, APP
EMRT

PO3 Victory
Nurse

With her shift over, Victory had rushed out of sickbay to her
quarters and quickly ditched her uniform in trade for a pale blue
dress and pair of slippers before making for the rendezvous point at
the fore turbolift on deck 14. A chill of excitement ran through her
as she stepped out of the lift and waited for Max to arrive. It had
not taken her long between leaving Sickbay to changing in her quarters
to getting here. She had picked out what she was going to wear before
her shift and set it out. She had though left her room a bit of a
mess, disgarded uniform and boots tossed on her bunk.

Meanwhile Max was making his way down turbolift with freshly shaven
head, a pair of black slacks and a black button down shirts with a
broad white stripe running down the left side from clavicle to bottom.
He hummed some tune from one of the 'shows' he played earlier. The
'lift had arrived, where Max stepped out...and waited.

Victory hummed softly to herself, rocking on her heels as she waited
for Max, not hearing the lift doors open. After a few moments though
she turned around to check and spotted him there all dressed up. "Hi!"
she said and smiled brightly, wishing she had a heart so she could
feel it skip a beat when she saw him there.

"Hey," he smiled back equally, taking in her attire. "Looks like
you've got the right outfit for a walk through the park, hmm?"

"I've been looking forward to it all day" Victory replied, "It was
hard keeping my mind on work even...it was a boring shift. I couldn't
wait until it was over" she grinned

"I know, I didn't know what to do with myself that whole time," Max
said. "Shall we, my dear?" He indicated the hallway off to their left.

Victory nodded, her long red hair flowing about her shoulders loosely
as they started down the corridor.

"So you have to tell me what it's like being in the Hazard team"
Victory said, trying to make small talk. "It must be terribly
exciting!" There were other things she wanted to ask him about and
talk about, but she wasn't sure how to bring them up, of if it would
be proper to do so on this outing..

"It's been interesting, a lot of hard work and training that goes
into it. Not that I'm complaining, of course. In fact, I don't know
why I didn't do it sooner in my career." He paced himself to take
smooth, slow strides to the Arboretum, not feeling the need to rush
their time together.

"Sounds like you're having a good time" Victory smiled, turning
around so she could walk backwards a coupe paces ahead of Max as they
continued on at a lazy pace, her hands clasped in front of her. "I
wouldn't mind going on an away mission. Nothing dangerous, maybe if we
stumble on a nice forest planet where we can do some exploring..." she
shrugged happily.

"That we could," mused Max. "We might even find a nature trail, have
ourselves a picnic, maybe?" He grasped her hands and twirled her (with
some minor difficulty, considering her heavy parts) like a ballerina.

"I think that would be nice" Victory laughed as she was twirled
around, her blue summer dress swirling about as she spun. "And if we
did, I could make lunch for us...well you..." she smiled. "I don't
really need to eat"

"A nice stroll in your company would be good enough for me," he said.
"We could stop every so often to smell the roses....or reasonable
equivalent," he added with a cheerful chuckle.

"That sounds good too" She replied and smiled as they approached the
Arboretum hatchway. "Looks like we're here" She commented and took a
few quick steps over to the door, which parted with a low hum as its
sensors detected motion. Through the portal lay a vast open space that
if one did not know better could be mistaken for a location planetside
rather than a self contained envyronment onboard a starship.

"Isn't it amazing?" she said as she let her eyes take in the scenery,
than looked back at Max.

"Yes it is, beyond amazing," Max answered and immediately spotted his
favorite tree. "Let's check out the redwood tree over there," he
pointed. It reminded him of the redwood in his parent's front yard
back on Earth.

Nodding, the redheaded nurse strolled alongside Max, taking in the
landscape with her eyes, the feel of a cool breeze on her skin and the
scent of the redwood tree as they drew close to it.

"You know, I like redwood tree's" Victory said. "When I was at the
academy I would spend a lot of my off days in a park in northern
California that was full of huge coastal redwoods as tall as a
skyscraper" she smiled. "I would spend all day walking through the
forest. It was always so cool and quiet...peaceful"

"I don't know...I think I have always liked plants" she said after a
quiet moment. "I have a feeling deep down that's something that
carries over from before. From when I was a different person. I don't
know if it is...but deep down I feel like I enjoyed walking in the
woods and smelling the flowers before all else" she shrugged. "Sounds
silly, huh?"

Max shook his head. "Nothing silly about it. It would seem that you
have impressions of memories from your former life..." Max stopped,
then: "We need to get some research done, I think. And I'm not talking
about searching databases...I mean to talk to people who may have some
shred of information from when you came."

He had been meaning to really sit down with Victory and discuss that
very issue...but they never seemed to have time until now.

"Well thats going to be the tough part" Victory replied. "I know
where I came from in relation to the people who did what they did to
me, but they are all long dead..." she trailed off, not really wanting
to mention the fact that she had killed them all several hundred hears
ago.

"But I guess we could try to figure something out" she added a moment
later. "I would like to know who I was...before all this" she held up
her right hand, switching visual modes, the illuminated markers in her
eyes flickered to blue as she looked at the inner workings of the
artificial limb, the metallic components that made up her skeletal
structure, small delicate servo motors and power lines that allowed
her joints to function. "I don't remember what it was like to be flesh
and blood"

"Coulda fooled me earlier today," Max said then tried to hide a smile
at the very pleasant memory. "But seriously, I think you're more human
than most believe they are. I truly do." He slowly placed his hands
around her upheld right hand, holding it softly. "And anything you
need me to help you with, I will. That's what friendship means to me."

"Thanks" She smiled as she looked at the difference between the flesh
and bone of Max's hand and the metal and synthetics of her own. In her
current visual mode she could see the blood coursing through his
veins.

Turning her eyes to Max, she switched back to normal visible light,
the indicators in her eyes flickering from blue back to their normal
red. "Maybe we can figure out something to try and find out who I was,
or what family I was from" she smiled after a long moment of quiet.
"I'm glad I have you as a friend here"

Max smiled and nodded. "I'm glad I was fortunate enough to meet you
and gain a friend in you. Looks like we both win here."

Victory nodded. "Yeah" she said as they approached the redwood tree.
She stepped up to it, placing her hand on it's trunk, smiling as she
felt the texture of the bark under her hand.

Max watched her for a while, and at the same time took in the other
plant life in there, such as an Andorian Ice Vine several meters away,
and giant sunflowers nearer to them. He walked towards them, lost in a
distant memory.

Victory glanced back at Max who now looked to be in deep thought or
remembering something in his past. She stepped over to him. "What is
it?" she asked, a hint of concern lacing her soft voice.

"My mother's house had a load of these growing in a small garden she
kept," Max said. Those were the summers that he spent with his mother
during the time that his parents were still divorced. While the family
situation wasn't the greatest, he did enjoy sitting in his mother's
garden on occasion.

"That must have been wonderful" She said but noted a slight quirk to
his expression.

Letting out a long and deep exhale, he finally faced her and gave a
small smile. "It wasn't horrible or anything like that...just not the
family situation I wanted. In fact, if it weren't for the constant
traveling back and forth between both parents, I wouldn't need these,"
Max pointed to his thighs then his lower back, marking where the
implants and artificial neural bundles were. "Wouldn't have been in
that crash..." He drifted off and looked away again.

Victory cycled her visual modes to see what he was indicating. She
could see the extent of damage that must have been caused to warrent
such implants and could only imagin how painfull it must have been.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she compared the type of
technology in his implants to what she knew of her own construction

"Nah, I'm fine, really. Let's get something to eat, yeah?" Max was
already looking towards the door, "I'm feeling like hasperat for some
reason..."

"Hasperat?" she inquired "I donno what that is" she said switching
her vision back to normal once more. "Is it good?"

"Oh, it's very good...and spicy!" He was extremely fond of hot and
spicy food. "It's similar to a terran burrito or wrap," he explained
further.

"Well, ok, guess I can try some" she smiled. "But I hope you don't
mind me not eating much, I don't need food really, and can only
consume and process small amounts" she shrugged and smiled.

"It's okay," Max replied. "I really just don't want to eat alone, and
could use the company of a good friend."

Victory smiled. "Lets go then" she said and gently slipped her arm
about his as they started for the hatchway. "Where is this Hasperat
stuff from? And whats in it?" she cook inside her was very curious.

Max received her arm and replied, "It's Bajoran, actually, and if I'm
not mistaken, it's made with a specially prepared brine. Did I mention
that it was very spicy?"

"Spicy, huh?" she replied. "I don't remember if I have ever had
anything spicy before" she shrugged and stuck her tongue out. "Spicy
is good?" she asked.

"Spicy is very, very good," Max replied, his eyes already lost in the
taste sensation. "Let's head outta here, Vic."

"Well, looks like you like it a lot, so it must be good. I can't wait
to try it" she said as they left the arboretum and started off for the
mess hall.

"Improper Computer Maintenance Can Invalidate the Warranty"

Lt. Commander Adrian An'quinsos, Asst. Chief Counselor
Lt. Daniel Scarborough, Science
Acting Ensign Aina Mason, Communications Officer

Computer Core Operations, NX-19

As the away team materialized, they could feel the warmth of sunlight
on their face. This was unexpected, considering they had been
transported inside the computer core control room, located within the
third deck of the mysteriously downed starship. Lieutenant Daniel
Scarborough glanced awkwardly at his fellow team members, young Aina
Mason, to his right, and Commander Adrian An'quinsos, to his left.
They were looking up. Not wanting to miss the boat, Daniel cast his
gaze upwards, too, and saw that the control room had gained an
unexpected skylight.

The titanium hull had been gashed open, as if a giant had taken a
homemade shiv and stabbed the starship as it crashed. At least,
Daniel assumed the hull was made of titanium. Most of the human-made
starships of the approximate era were constructed of titanium. But,
this ship was sheathed in mystery; it wouldn't have been that
surprising if its construction was somewhat unique.

Through the rupture, thin vines had meandered inside, folding around
the edges of the tear and clinging to the decking like living
wallpaper. Some of them were blossoming, meekly displaying small,
white cups of flower with red innards tucked away at their centers.
Their leaves shuffled quietly in the softly moving air, like book
pages in a public library. Their natural moisture, evaporated by the
yellow sun, filled the room with a humidity that was quite unnatural
on a starship.

"Uh, wuh…. wow," Daniel stuttered, his head thrown back in a way that
left his mouth no choice but to be tugged open.

Through the rupture, thin vines had meandered inside, folding around
the edges of the tear and clinging to the decking like living
wallpaper. Some of them were blossoming, meekly displaying small,
white cups of flower with red innards tucked away at their centers.
Their leaves shuffled quietly in the softly moving air, like book
pages in a public library. Their natural moisture, evaporated by the
yellow sun, filled the room with a humidity that was quite unnatural
on a starship. The floor seemed to be covered in a thin layer of
soggy soil and an earthy smell filled their noses.

Aina was in awe at the sight, she turned at a movement in the edge of
her view as a black and yellow bird fluttered into the room. It gave
a warbling hiss at the three intruders in its domain and flew off,
back to the outside world.

He smiled; Adrian looked at the scene with avested interest, noting
every iota of detail above and before them with subtle intensity and
breathed deeply the air with impartiality. On an unofficial mission,
the young-looking Lieutenant Commander had already been aboard a
half-lit starship looking deathly silent in an asteroid belt. This was
a complete and welcomed change; at least here he wouldn't be worried
about being attacked, have his son kidnapped, or find himself fighting
to keep a city-sized sized vessel out of people' hands.

"Hmmm…" He frowned slightly; blue eyes had caught sight of the bird,
watching it as it watched them, and noted the hiss with a raised brow.
"Well, that was… interesting. I wonder got its tail feathers in a
twist?"

Aina had already begun looking around the control room, smashed
against the main control system display was the rotting remains of a
chunk of what would have been a huge tree. A small lizard skittered
off the rotting wood as Aina approached the display, she looked around
at the rotting wood all over the floor - "A tree jumped out and hit
the ship?"

"Well," He considered looking down. "That or the ship hit the tree.
Either way, the impact must've been… traumatic for the both of them."

Quickly scanning the main core control system, Aina didn't need the
readings from her tricorder to tell her what her eyes already knew.
"Main Control and Access is totally like gone. But if we are careful,
we might be able to get stuff from the secondary core controls in the
memory core. It will be cramped. All we need now is pow..."

As Aina spoke, some of the panels started to show flashing and
blinking lights, cracked display panels started to show warped and
distorted data and images. A high piercing warbling shriek came from
one panel, as it sparked and a thin wisp of smoke appeared and what
looked like a rat with crocodile jaws skittered out and ran to the
safety of another panel.

Adrian sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose slightly. It must've been
some time before this ship; or rather the remains of it had some kind
of energy running through it. "Looks like the Engineering team is on
top of their game today."

The main doors to the memory core had been bent and warped by
something, they were so twisted, and there was no way they were to be
able to be opened. So looking at the map of the ship on her tricorder
- Aina headed over to a Jefferies Access Hatch, "We should be able to
get to the core through here."

On her knees, she slid open the hatch, and looking in, she was looking
into the black eyes of something looking back at her, it's head was
vaguely diamond shape and it had a long body with obvious scales on
it. A red crest on the head raised up as a tri-forked tongue
slithered out and suddenly the creature hissed.

"Oh frak," Aina jumped back, tripping over a piece of wood, she landed
heavily on her back, knocking the wind from her.

Adrian knelt down, running a tricorder over her to see if she was
okay. He wasn't a medical doctor, but at least he could recognize
physical trauma when he saw it. "What happened?"

"It's a bloody snake," Aina gasped, shivering slightly, she could feel
her heart thudding in her chest.

"It's uh, it's, it's, it's a, it's like a, um, a ball python. It, uh,
it, it won't hurt you," Daniel said walking over to Aina. He was
holding the snake its hand, its body was wrapped around his arm and
behind his shoulder. It swung stiffly as Daniel moved, but seemed
remarkably disinterested in what was going on. "You, um, you just,
uh, startled it."

"I startled it?" exclaimed Aina as she stood up, even though she had
intended to move forward, she found herself a few steps farther back
from the snake. It was all she could do from not running - it was a
bloody snake, oh how she hated them. "Get rid of it," she squeaked.

"Um, ok," Daniel complied, though there was confusion in his voice.
What was scary about a little, four-foot long snake? This one even
had a little red flap on its head, like a quail feather. That was the
opposite of intimidating. Nevertheless, Daniel calmly carried it over
to the far corner of the room and leaned down, so that its head
touched the ground. After some small amount of urging, the snake
writhed off his arm and curled up amidst the vines.

Looking at Adrian - "That's the only way through to the core, except
the main doors." Aina was hoping that the Commander would get the
idea and go first. That way someone else would see the snakes first,
not her.

There was a small smile on his face throughout all of this, as he
checked to make sure she was okay. Adrian never had a problem with
snakes; so as long as they went their way and he went his everything
was perfect. As Daniel picked it up, he noticed the signature,
quill-like structure on its head. Thinking back to the bird, the
Counselor thought the snake might use it to snag prey. At any rate he
wasn't here to have a conversation with the snake. The El-Aurian
looked over at her as she spoke and nodded, hearing the lingering
excitement in her voice, nodded and proceeded further.

"Have no fear Ensign; if we come across another snake, I'll let it eat
me to give you a chance to escape." The voice sounded almost serious
as he continued, stepping into the Jeffrey's tube. "It'll take some
time digesting me, might even give it indigestion, but don't worry…
you will have escaped its evil, slithery clutches."

Preamble- "The Fires of Liberation" Part Two

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

(Flight Deck- USS Galaxy)

Events over the last couple of days had been uneventful, but frantic in terms of preparations. Everyone but the dumbest, blindest, deafest, senseless individual had some idea that something big was going to happen.

Discussions that Fork had overheard in the corridor (and even had told to him directly by the lower ratings in his own unit and part of the ship's company) ran the gambit from an attack aimed at the Breen home world, to staving off a massive strike the Triad was preparing to make aimed at Earth itself. The massive fleet that they had gathered up in a relatively short time didn't help things much either. Nearly 1,000 ships, Federation and Klingon, had been brought into a formation at high-warp heading for the Cardassian border. There had been nothing like it since the final hours of the Dominion War.

The flight deck of the USS Galaxy had been an organized chaos for the past two weeks with 'dress rehearsals' for combat a common place. Every ship in Starfleet as a matter of fact had been ordered to conduct drills over the past two weeks as a way of desensitizing Triad intel officers into what the intentions of the Allies were. They'd seen their resources stretched to the limit with the more recent fighting as Starfleet's wall around the core territories failed to give way, despite repeated assaults from seemingly all directions.

Fork for one had known for some time an offensive 'had' to be coming. It was a classic strategy, letting your enemy run right into your defenses until they weaken themselves, and then leveling the hammer blow in the form of a sharp counter-strike. Likewise he was betting the Triad had to know it was coming, just not when and where. Reports of their latest fleet movements bore witness to this... almost all their reserves had been mobilized to defend the home territories in the event a Starfleet breakout threatened their respective borders.

This wasn't just another set of battle drills though. This was the 'real' deal. He watched the chronometer on the wall carefully... in exactly one hour they would be 'committed'. In other words it would take Starfleet more time to call them back, than it would be for them to reach the target. Likewise, even if worst case scenario you had a clone traitor in your midst, once the yellow numbers turned red, Fork knew they would be too far along for any information they may garner to be of value. By the time the spy would have gotten word to the nearest Triad vessels, they would be on the proverbial door-step, and yours truly would be all too happy to greet whomever was home.

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

The numbers went red. Right now, across the entirety of all of Starfleet, exactly five hours before it would be allowed to play for the civilians back home, and two hours before the Triad picked up the wrath of all Gods on their sensor networks, a simple message would be playing. "Marines, aten-hut!"

His troops fell in quickly and orderly, the result of constant drilling and practice. It was awe-striking to think that the bridges, corridors, flight briefing rooms, and drill decks of 'every' ship, installation, and ground based unit to bear the colors of the Federation were hearing a similar preamble, if in different voices.

"Ladies, gentleman, and other fellow sentients..." he smirked, still finding that phrase strange despite it's common usage. You could take the boy from the colony it appeared, but you could never really drill the colony out of the boy. "In about two minutes you will be the first ones to see an address that President Bocco will be making to the citizens of the Federation in five hours. You'll be seeing it first because, in approximately two hours, this ship and all it's embarked personnel will be engaged in combat operations over the skies of the Cardassian Home World. Whatever the President may say, it's not going to be able to touch upon how honored I have been to be your commanding officer, through the good times and bad; each and every one of you standing here today, 'without' exception, is deserving of the greatest praises that can be bestowed on any individual. Together, we've helped save the Romulan Empire from complete annihilation, we have saved the lives of Federation citizens, doing what is best for them even if they could not see it. We have taken on, and won, against the best trained forces the Hydran Empire could bring to bear against us. Through it all, through the losses and victories, the advances and set backs, you have distinguished yourselves as the best of the best the UFP has to offer, and there is 'no' other unit in this Galaxy I would rather be in command of. We have been forged together by the fires of hell itself, and now, whatever comes, we will stand united, and face it together. May whatever deity or force you believe in be on our sides in this endeavor." The Stagnorian smiled before hitting the 'play' button, and joining his unit.

On the screen, the face of Nanietta Bocco, President of the United Federation of Planets appeared. Her figure slightly slooped over the desk, her fingers knitted together on the table top.

"To the crewmen, pilots, and Marines of the United Federation of Planets, and the citizens to which they are beholden to protect and serve.

For more than a year, our security has been directly threatened by an unholy alliance between the T'Kith'kin Hive, the Breen Confederacy, and the Hydran Empire. We have seen on newsreels our fellow citizens suffering grievous losses at the hands of enemy troops, of the butchery and destruction these forces have wrought upon those unfortunate enough to fall before them. We all know about the destruction of Deep Space Five, the loss of Federation colonies, and the loss of millions of her citizens. We've watched our allies likewise struggle to protect their citizens, and lose considerable amounts of ships and personnel to enemy action.

But as we approach the year of 2386, the fortunes of war have finally given us the advantage! The Triad forces, stretched thin by their advances, burdened by the determined resistance our brave soldiers force upon them, and themselves growing exhausted of combat, have reached a critical limit! We have seen in the past our troops meet and defeat the enemy, time and time again proving that when confronted, the UFP is defended by the best people out there. In that spirit, I have committed a large portion of our forces to an offensive, aimed at the liberation of the Cardassian Union from Triad hands, and delivery of the Cardassian people from their tortuous oppression. Our allies and brothers in arms elsewhere will be fighting with us, and the Cardassian people, in their right to the principle of self-determination, have already begun an extensive underground campaign to weaken the Triad forces holding their world hostage. I call upon them to continue to rise up, to resist now and forever... the temptation of safety is not worth the cost of forced servitude, nor will any such arrangement be long enduring.

The fighting will likely to be brutal. The enemy has proven they can field well trained, well equipped, well supported forces driven by fanatical zeal and hardened by extensive combat. Despite this, they will be facing the collective talents, wills, and hearts of the entire Quadrant. An army of trillions, crying in one voice for liberty, and marching as one towards the promises of freedom. I have every confidence in the skill, courage, and dedication of those who wear the uniforms of Starfleet, and her allied services. Generations from now, our children and grand-children will come to know that the values we hold dear are so precious that even the cost of life is not a burden too large to bear. The Triad will be made to see that we 'will' strike back, we 'will' hit hard, and we 'will' ultimately be victorious. We have learned from costly defeats, adapted to the changing situations we face... we are in a position of strength. Whatever may come, whatever price demanded, the Federation is too powerful an idea, too strong an alliance, too great a notion to falter at the hands of tyrants. I know when the last shot is fired, the last torpedo launched, the last skirmish ended, that Cardassia will once again belong to it's people.

To our armed forces and those of our allies, Godspeed. The forces of fate have made you all heroes, and we have supreme faith you will acquit yourselves accordingly. Thank you, and may we all be inspired by your examples."

And then after a small smile, the President disappeared.

Fork had the screen cut off and then stood before them. "You heard the President. Gear up, fall in to your assigned hoppers. I'll see you in Lakarian City. Move out."

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

(Hopper 188-Alpha)

Anyone with half a brain expected the Triad to put up one 'hell' of a fight for the Cardassian Homeworld, the crown jewel in their exploits so far, and the one success that they could constantly rally their people around. And they didn't disappoint... despite being spread incredibly thin, just under 900 ships had been brought to the Cardassian system. Normally you never wanted to risk an assault against a defensive position with anything less than a 3:1 superiority ratio... however the allies saw a chance here to deal a fatal blow to the Triad war effort and force a mutual truce. They'd closed the 'technological divide' with their rivals significantly, even pulling ahead in many areas, and a truce, however it was secured, would give the Federation the breather it needed to assure Starfleet remained the dominant military force in the Quadrant.

So was the thinking anyway.

Likewise the Triad theorized that Cardassia had to be defended at all costs. A loss here would irrevocably damage their chances of winning the overall war, and a victory would likely seal the fate of the Allies all together with the loss of so many ships. The Triad had nearly a full year to fortify the Cardassian homeworld, and would have been in a position to utterly destroy the fleet sent after them... if it hadn't been for the damned Cardassian resistance movement. Underground guerilla fighters who's constant sabotage work, assaults on key fighter bases, ambushes, and assassinations made it impossible to build any of the defensive structures necessary to repel a mass invasion. Worse yet, the Resistance's assaults had been kicked up a notch or five with the news that their liberation was at hand.

Bam... there went another deep-vein methane drill. Immediately outside the corridors of the occupation center, the Breen occupation forces head-quarters was ablaze. Mobile death squads had been dispatched to skin every leathery hide they could find... but unlike when the Jem H'adar had done it a decade earlier, the Cardassians were ready this time. Rather than helpless women opening up the doors to their homes and being run through or shot on sight, improvised explosives greeted the millions of Triad troops trying to trim the population. Little children even planted them on vehicles... servants leaving them in the headquarters of various units... shots would ring out in the avenues and cross walks... the poor occupiers couldn't move so much as a kilometer in any direction without running flat into a hellacious barrage of Cardassian phaser fire. In short, if the Triad lost the space battle, they would certainly lose the ground battle.

With about half an hour before the fire-fight began, the Marines had been deployed in their hoppers, and the fighter jocks took to the stars. Outside his cockpit he could see Ella give him a thumbs up, her fighter one of many tasked with escorting the hoppers to their deployment zones. He returned the favor, appreciative for the company. Last thing they needed was for Hydran fighters to rake the laden hoppers before they even got within range of the planet. Time ticked away, every second seeming to take an eternity before passing.

A thousand different thoughts ran through his head. He thought of Koren, and hoped that if anything happened his parents would be able to handle taking care of his son. He thought about Berilyn, as he often did, and let warm thoughts of love that he'd always cherish relax what were nerves that could only be considered on the edge of being frayed with the impending battle before them.

Outside, 3,000 Allied, and 1,500 Triad fighters began trading the first blows of the largest battle anyone alive had ever witnessed. They merged, entering into a planet-sized 'bowl' of meneuver and counter-meneuver, blast and counter-blast, specs at a distance flashing when one of the star- bound knights lost their portion of the joust. Next Cardassian warships, the vanguard of the Free Cardassian Forces and the assaulting fleet, entered the fray. the Galor class cruisers, the Keldon class battle-cruisers, and their Hideki class patrol ships opened fire at arm's length from the Triad forces. Bright yellow beams and angry quantum torpedoes burst forward, cutting into Hydran capitol ships and their lighter Breen escorts. Hydran ships closed the gap between them, bringing their powerful hellbores and cannon to bear. Purple soon joined the furious yellow beam vollies. More stars, for a split second, seemed to join the galaxy as the ram-head of the Allied fleet smashed into the heavy wall of the Triad defenses. Radio traffic picked up immensely, each adversary doing it's best to communicate with it's allies while jamming their opponents ability to do the same.

The hopper swerved to port, a Hydran fighter having being separated from it's wingmen and now being chased by a pair of rogues had taken cheap parting shots at the vulnerable Marine transport before being blown to bits by it's pursuers.

A little further down the row of hundreds of Hoppers, a stricken T'Kith'kin fighter crashed into one of the Marine vessels in a Kamikazee effort that took out a platoon from Bravo Company, 82nd Battalion.

The Marine Hoppers approached the planet in a staggered box formation, their phaser turrets providing mutual support against the odd enemy fighter group that made a pass at them. Cardassian warships, which after their attack run had moved to the back of the Allied group to recover what they could provided some additional protection. Klingon ships moving forward began a concerted effort to guard the re-grouping Cardassians, the infamously powerful fleets of Birds of Prey finishing off the Triad vessels that hadn't been completely stricken by the formidable punch of cruisers up-front. Where as the Cardassians had been a ram, blasting at aiming a dent into the Triad lines, the Klingons operated like a shot-gun... pellets of Bird of Preys flying deep behind the lines and taking shots of opportunity, while the heavy Klingon battlecruisers and battleships sliced like daggers into the Triad forces. The T'Kith'Kin were the targets this go around, their Hive-like ships being targeted by massive bursts of Klingon photon torpedoes and heavy disruptor cannon fire.

The Marine craft were entering the atmosphere just before the Klingons broke their assaults and regrouped behind the Cardassians. Soon Starfleet would wash over the system like a wave, wiping away all the Triad formations that were loosened up by the first two waves. The advances in technology and tactics, coupled with the advantages that were provided by the Cardassian resistance (worth at least a fleet of several hundred ships and an army's worth of divisions) would mean that, by the end of the fighting, Cardassia would be free again.

Though nobody bothered telling that to the millions of Triad soldiers still dealing with the revolution below. About a dozen divisions of Marines, an equal number of Klingons, and millions of Cardassians were about to steamroll the Triad warmachine.

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