USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60807.27 - 60808.02 |
Logs |
"No Bone To Pick" Team Two: Cmdr. Arel Smith **** NX-19 (Aiolos) **** Graveyards gave Arel the creeps. Probably, she decided, another annoying human trait she had picked up "Yessir… I mean Ma'am," Gary returned, backing up, only to trip over Revealed by the scraping of his boot was another, identical, headstone To Arel's eye, the neat lettering bore the mark of someone with a The marker Upchurch had first found read "Chief Warrant Officer Reid Alex wanted to be on the ship but she would go where she was Gary scrambled to his feet, looking around as if he hoped that no one Alex briefly wondered why a crewman was addressing her by her first "Oh," he blinked, looking around. "That's a big area… er, graveyard." "Odd...I'm not picking up any residual or decomposing DNA near those "Weird. Doesn't look like the dirt's been disturbed at all," Arel As Callum spoke, Upchurch glanced around, checking the surroundings. "Hear what?" Alex asked, looking up from her tricorder. "I'm just jumpy, I guess," he sighed. Glancing at the partial ring of Alex decided she needed to remind the Crewman that he was in Upchurch flushed scarlet. "Oh God," he stammered, "You're right – "Are those ... teeth?" Arel asked, pointing at the results of Callum's scan. >From behind them, there was a rustling sound, and then a soft, wet Arel had turned at the crunching noise and frowned. "Upchurch?" When She stopped cold at the picket now sprayed with blood and felt her "Fuck," The security officer said clearly. "What is it, ma'am?" Alex asked, curiously upon hearing the woman's curse. "Stop what you're doing and move back to the ship. Slowly," Arel said, The response came in seconds, without hesitation or question: =/\= I'm There was a delay of a few seconds as the group backed slowly towards "Is everyone all ri… gyaaack!" The slight figure of Transport Chief "Shooting Code Blanks, Pt III" Lt Chris Daniels, CTO Deck 11 It never mattered what type of test, or what the significance of it, every person always felt a bit of trepidation before the examination began. Despite the fact that the upcoming dry-fire test was really only one test in a long series, the crew of Galaxy's Tactical Department felt the nerves building as the hour approached for the first shot of the "Re-Programmed" SGM-132. For some, like Senior Rocketman Aieln Devras, working off those nerves involved pacing. For LtJG M'Ral, stress relief involved running the simulation that Aina had designed over and over again, looking for any missed detail. Others chewed fingernails, stared at screens, or otherwised talked over everything related to the missile humanly possible. Then there were those who dealt with the stress by ignoring it... "So how'd the meeting with K'aa go?" Chris turned to ask Aina as they stood in front of the Weapons Control station, with 5 minutes to go before the test kicked off. Aina gave a slight nod, "It went ok." Which was pretty much how it went, for Aina it was very strange to see both the human body that K'aa was now in and the changes to him. How it felt for K'aa - Aina gave a slight shake of her head, she'd never be able to get close in understanding what happened. "Anything wrong, Miss Mason?" asked Chris as he noticed Aina giving a slight shake of her head. Aina jumped back to reality and gave a more emphatic shake of her head, "No sir, nothing wrong at all." *** The chronometer above the station indicated 1159 hours. Test-firing was scheduled for high noon..an irony not lost on any of the involved parties. Petty Officer Yark turned and looked at Chris. "Sir, we're ready." Chris looked back over at Aina. "You ready, Miss Mason?" Aina nodded, "Yes sir." Chris nodded and smiled. "Very well then." He looked at Daylen, who also nodded. "Load missile in launch tube, coordinate series 1 alpha, fire on command, report launch ready." And thus began the drill, which the crew performed as though it were no different from a real combat firing. “Target coordinates entered.” “Tube Loaded.” “Warhead armed.” “All stations green?” “Targeting green.” “Weapons Control Green.” “TSO green.” “All stations report green and ready to fire, sir.” Chris inhaled quickly, as though the word he was about to say was a physical trigger. "Fire." In reality only a few seconds passed. To some, it felt like forever until the results of the part of the test that had been giving them headaches came through in the quiet, feminine voice of Ensign Feloir. "Missile away, and...tracking!" Chris had held his last inhalation, and upon hearing those words, he let out the air, along with all the others who were involved in the test. There was no cheering, simply a confirmation that they had cleared a hurdle. He looked over at Aina and raised his eyebrows, the only real sign of emotion he let out. Aina just had a satisfied smile, the same one that a cat would have who had finally gotten the canary. She watched the rolling and changing numbers on her screen that showed the results of the simulation. "Fast forward the program to test point Echo." Daylen commanded his test officers. After a few seconds, the display changed, showing the simulated missile cruising away towards its target. "Adjust target coordinates, update to series 1 Delta." Chris calmly directed. The technician plugged in the instructions, and they waited for the missile's telemetry to report back to the Galaxy. "The weapon has accepted the target update and is changing course. A couple bugs in there we're going to need to work out, sir." Aina raised an eyebrow, "Bugs - where..." Tapping on the panel, she brought up the latest diagnostic report on the simulated missile launch, she frowned thinking that she missed something. Chris and Daylen both nodded instinctively and then looked at each other. "Terminate for the day?" "Agreed...it's all yours. I have to get ready for the away team." Chris said and then turned to Aina. "Thanks for saving our bacon, Aina." It took Aina a few seconds for Aina to get her concentration from the panel to Chris, "Huh? Pardon? Ummm...sorry sir. Oh, yes, ummm...you're welcome Lieutenant." She relaxed in her seat, when she saw the simulation showed problems in the control servo system - nothing to do with her. Daylen nodded. "Like they said, there's still some kinks to work out...and more tests. We may still need your help at some point over the next few weeks." Chris smirked. "So don't let those Ops and Intel guys bog you down with too much." Aina gave a smile, "I'll try not to sir. Thank you sirs - I have to get back to OPS." Chris just nodded. It was a good way to end an otherwise frustrating week. "The Highway Men" Part One (Marine Country, USS Galaxy- CO's Office) "By the Prophets For'kel, we're so sorry." Le'lei Arvelion, his It was strange, if one was uninitiated in the ways of motherhood, to Mathematically it was a certainty... Stagnorians lived on average "We got your calls... are you all right? You know you're always "I can't matir, not right now." He sighed. "There is a war on." "Not your war." And then came this inevitable discussion. Every mother in the Galaxy "Koren's well." His Mom backed off, knowing by now that there was no Sure enough, in an instant, about a hundred holo-images appeared "You damned well better." She growled, crossing her arms over her "Buestanna Afidav." He gave his mother a smile before switching "Colonel Arvelion, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The Deltan "Thank you sir." Somehow he doubted that was why the good General called. "We have another mission for you. I'm sending the briefing now, but Fork responded with the typical "Yes sir." before the line went Cora received the summons and wondered where they were headed this Thral had been a marine long enough to know that it was a good idea "Attention on deck!" Tech Sergeant Ilia called as the Colonel walked "We've received orders from General Thanos, commanding officer of Leah took the opportunity to give him a nudge. She leaned in while "What?" Fork looked out the nearest viewport, and sure enough there "Understood Sir," Cora replied she then relayed the orders to her "Very well sir. I'll be sure the men are properly equipped. Anything For'kel shrugged. "Whatever and as much of whatever you're willing to "Got it. Standard loadout then." Thral turned to the assembled Leah in turn slapped the Colonel on the arm. "Colonel, the SFFC techs "If I ever see another ramp, corridor or lift again it's way too "Olin, for real, is that you under there?" the sympathetic voice of a "Oh, just reported for duty and managed to mix up a few ins and outs Ra snorted slightly, giving a quick cross-look at the Marine "Arvelion, yup," Kebs finished, continuing on his spree of usefulness. "Wonderful. I'm pretty sure I pissed him off a few years ago A parting word or two to one of his Marines and Fork finally turned in And then like clockwork, whatever neural pathways in the brain were "Someone you know?" Leah asked, seeing how the boss seemed "You could say that." He replied in a whisper. "From the Miranda." "Oh yeah?" The 188th's Aide de Camp looked to the Betazoid before "What?!" Fork glared over at her. "Hell no! Nothing like that!" Wow, someone was awfully defensive. "Geeze, sorry Colonel. God "Some things shouldn't be asked, Owen." Fork sighed internally as the pair finally reached the fighter techs "Commander," Rheay acknowledged with a certain bit of awkwardness, "And no, we haven't a clue as to what we're supposed to do as far as I Cora remained busy getting her Platoon ready to board and ensuring "The Briefing" featuring: ----- Cat was doing a slow jog down the corridor, generally she was a Approaching the entrance, the double doors opened with a familiar and She nodded to Souza, a silent greeting as he and Aewyn watched as she "Welcome, Doctor," de Souza added with a small smile as she settled Plus, he realized as he turned to face the head of the table, the "Now that we are all present and accounted for, I suppose we can "Thank you, 'commander," he said, standing; in that position, he The tall Betazoid intelligence office glanced around the group, trying "I'll start. I am Lieutenant Commander Mattias Aewyn, and I serve as He glanced to his left. "Lieutenant Commander Souza, if you will..." De Souza kept his answer simple. "Marcelo de Souza, project From there, they all stood in turn as the prior settled themselves. "Dr. Krystof Frost," the only civilian at the table said. "My The mousy middle-aged Bajoran woman in enlisted blacks stood next, and *Don't say that yet,* Aewyn thought to himself and he shifted "I'm Dr. Nora Martin," she said. Her voice was soft, clipped, with a That was a personal admission, but not one overly intimate. Her Next to her was another uncomfortable member, though he seemed to be "Guess it's my turn," he began and smiled. "I'm Lieutenant William William looked at Aewyn and de Souza to see their reactions, knowing "Oh yeah... I'm a Monty Python fan," he added. That little tidbit of Giving a quick nod to Davidson, Cat shifted her chair back as she As Felicia finished her introduction, Aewyn stood again. He let the "Right," he said, glancing down at his hands. He drew a deep breath "The Briefing" featuring: Lt. Cmdr. Marcelo de Souza, Project Operational Command (Kat) ----- "Computer, lights and display, please." The room dimmed though it didn't darken entirely. A holographic display came up above the center of the table. It showed the service-jacket image of a woman with her vital information beside it. "During a skirmish a few months ago, Lieutenant Branwen London was captured from the USS Galaxy by a Hydran team. She and a few of her colleagues were held prisoner, during which point they were interrogated, tortured--" as he spoke, images showing the injuries of the other officers came up, along with some of the details of the original battle and their confinement -- "and, in Lieutenant London's case, experimented upon." The image showed London as she was now: significantly distorted, breathing methane, green, rather hideous. "Not only has her physiology been altered, but she has been impregnated by Hydran genetic material. We don't know why or how; this is what we hope to discover." He glanced around the table, studying the reactions of those around it. "Understandably, we are concerned for London's physical and psychological health, as we would anyone who has been exposed to such treatment, and we are attempting to give her the same assistance as we would any other Starfleet officer. However, given the nature of the experiments and the situation they've left her in, we need to take additional precautions. Not to mention that we also have a unique opportunity here to study the Hydran incubation process. "It's probably become obvious why many of you are here. Some are here to ensure the health of Lieutenant London, and to study the procedure for the purpose of reversing it to give her some resemblance of a normal life. Others are here to study the Hydran fetuses she carries and obtain any additional information that may be helpful in our continuing fight against a vicious enemy." He cleared his throat and reached forward, bending his knees slightly so he could press a button on the table surface without leaning over. "I know that some of you," he glanced at Cat, then Souza, "may have your doubts and misgivings about this. I can't say that I blame you. But you have to see we don't have much choice in the matter. Also, please keep in mind that we have gathered as much to help London as we have to strike at those who held her captive." Aewyn surveyed the table once more. "I'll open the floor to a few questions. But please keep them brief and to the point. I'd prefer you keep any ethical objections to yourself for the time being. They've already been discussed at length and we are where we are, so there's nothing you can really do at this point no matter how eloquent your argument." Cat concentrated on the image and looked at Aewyn, "Is there anything on the level of placental development? If anything, my first suggestion is the transfer of the fetuses to gestation units - this will minimise any risk either to mother or the fetuses due to metabolic incompatibilities or immune reactions during gestation. Earlier we do this, the less complications, especially with the endometrial artery connections and the intervillous blood volume loss." Across the table, Aria nodded, the trio of short chains on her pagh ring jingling slightly with the movement. "Under normal circumstances, allowing the mother to carry the fetuses to term insures that both mother and child will have the greatest chance of survival once the delivery takes place. However, these are far from normal circumstances." She looked back at the display and added, "It's no secret that, no matter the circumstances, life will almost always find a way. But, we have no way of knowing if complications will arise that will threaten the life of the mother or her children." Nora nodded. "That's my major concern as well. Obviously, we've come a long way in understanding interspecies pregnancies and how to protect the lives of mother and child, but because we know very little about Hydran reproduction, I hesitate to recommend removing them right away. I stay as long as Lieutenant London appears stable, we have no reason to remove them immediately." There was also the matter of London's wishes, but she doubted that would be a welcome topic of discussion at this point amongst a group focused on forming strategy. There would be time to determine what London wanted and needed once they met. "Also Hydrans aren't a part of the Vilmor Genetic Line, the loci for genetic similarity is only about seventy-three percent with humans. I'm going to need all the genetic data that you have. The level of engineering here will have been massive to bridge that and totally irresponsible. That will give us a better idea on the metabolic development and have the units ready for that." Cat shook her head as she sat back in her chair - "Poor things," she said quietly to herself. Aewyn's jaw tightened, as he offered a curt nod communicating little agreement. Frankly, he didn't think of them as 'children' but rather scientific experiments with unfortunate consequences. Perhaps he'd become jaded, but he did not imagine there would be any sort of life value for these... fetuses once they became entities. "In the table displays at your places, you will find a dossier with a full report from the medic assigned to the rescue mission," he said. "Also included is the research files of the Hydran who experimented on London, as well as the triage conducted over the course of the rescue and immediately upon the return to her ship." Cat looked down at the 'folder.' With a tap of her finger, the folder opened, showing the illusion of pages of information. Tabs on the side and bookmarks had already been set up for easy access to the data. As the rest of the group started their own reading, Cat tapped the genetics modification notes - there wasn't that much there, but what it did say proved to her the utter contempt that the Hydran had for his subject. The tip of her tail flicking from side to side, "Look at page five thirty-seven -- gross physiological changes. There has been major genetic rewriting done to the Lieutenant and considering the time frame, I don't think it was using a retrovirus or even nano-release systems. There looks like transporter bit errors in much of the Lieutenant's system." Davidson nodded, "Yes, but not enough to indicate a transporter clone. But... it could be indications of massive genetronic manipulation." Cat nodded, "Here on eleven thirty-two, on the Hydran's actual notes..." Cat and the others read on - the audacity of what the Hydran had done. London had been placed into a transporter and directed to a specialised buffer system, where a very complex system had manipulated the lieutenant's rematerialisation. London had been treated worse than an animal; she had been edited as if she was a 'program' or a 'file' to fit what the Hydran wanted. With a low growl in her throat, "Where is this 'officer,' at the moment?" Cat asked. She had spoken the word as if she was describing some deadly toxic containment. "He should be brought up on trial." Aewyn let the question dissipate; it wasn't a matter for them to address, none of them had the clearance, capability, or rank to make any sort of decisions or judgments in the matter. They were cogs in the system with their own unique tasks and right now, that task was one of patient care and scientific study. "The lieutenant and the team traveling with her with arrive in less than..." he looked at his wrist-bound chronometer, "twenty-two hours. So if there are no other questions, then we should adjourn so you can all study your materials and be prepared to get to work immediately." He surveyed the table. "How long does Starfleet Intelligence plan to keep Lieutenant London here? If she delivers or we manage to transfer the fetuses sooner and London is stable, will she be free to leave if she so chooses?" asked Martin. She braced herself for the clinical, cold response that she was sure would follow. Nothing much had to be said for her to realize that the representatives from Starfleet Intelligence were much more comfortable viewing London as a project or a specimen at the moment, even though efforts were clearly being made to address her welfare. "Obviously, we don't want to keep her here any longer than necessary, but the extent of her time in this facility will depend on what answers you all are able to come by in your research," Aewyn said, focusing on Martin a moment before his gaze wondered over the other faces. "For the moment, this is being treated as a medical and psychological custodianship. She is a patient, not a prisoner, though I am sure she doesn't see it this way. This is against her will, but there is cause to suspect she could be a threat to herself and others, and there is reason to doubt her ability to successfully care for herself. Now. Are there any other questions?" No one else moved to speak. "Okay, good then," he said. "There will be an all-call when the patient arrives. Until then, thank you and dismissed." (OOC: Runs in parallel with Chris's Marine Side Mission, with his approval)
"Prince Thufi Ascendant" The Hydran Homeworld
Lo' the high and mighty shall fall and be trampled under by the unlikely from below.
Prince Thufi the XXXIV of Hydrax considered the ancient Hydran proverb with not a little bit of irony. Barely two years ago, young Thufi was one of a thousand princelings vying for the Amethyst throne, a hope more forlorn than real. Now, after long years of carnage and warfare against the Federation and its allies, the proud Hydran stood on the cusp of greatness itself. Here in the hollowed inner sanctum of the Royal palace, Thufi stood atop the 102nd step from the pinacle of the sacred Dais. It was a 1000 steps tall, the Royal throne. Those that were of sufficient rank to dare approach the Empress were tightly regimented in how close they could or could not rise up those 1000 steps. Merely to be in the room was an honor. To mount the dais an accomplishment unheard of. To be a mere 102 steps from the top meant that Prince Thufi had become one of the cream of Hydran society, rising from the ranks as a mere Starship Captain to become one of the real powers in the Hegemony. ~~~How many people have to die before I become King....~~~ Thufi quoted the ancient riddle in his head. This time he had an exact answer. One hundred and two. Six months ago when he first entered this room he was way back on the 463rd step, an achievement he never thought to better. Events however in the Great war made for opportunities to those that could exploit them. There had been a Federation raid on a secret prison camp just over a month ago, a camp behind which many on the 1000 steps had thrown their support and reputations. Not Thufi. He remembered the first time he had first heard of the plot. Cloning Humans? Impregnating women with Hydran half-breeds? ~~Abomination!!~~ The Prince shook his purple head in disgust. At a time when new starships and weapons were needed on the front line, literally millions had been squandered on making little squirmy babies inside some mad scientists test tubes. How did this lead to victory? What a colossal waste of money and effort! The eventual collapse of the insane project and Prince Thufi's long standing opposition to it had allowed his rapid growth in power and influence. Trust Thufi....he knew the path to victory. Trust Thufi...the hero of Romulus....the victor in the Vered Cluster and the Kataarn Nebula! The Prince clicked his beak smugly. If he had risen so far, so fast...why not go for the great prize itself. The Throne. Emperor Thufi the First! It had a nice sound to it. However things here on the homeworld were getting dangerous for him. He'd already survived three assassination attempts this month, and he was target number one by those both above him and below on the 1000 steps. He had to get back out amongst the fleet. A new Command to garner new glories and accolades. Also he'd be safer there....so much the better to allow his own assassins to do their work. "The Federation is weak in the Alpha KS-128 sector" The Empress had informed him...whispering deep into his ear. "Their forces are scattered elsewhere in an attempt to engage us. I command thee oh gentle Prince to form a new command and take this sector" A new command.... He'd need a new ship as well. The gallant Slarrardo...his first command had been a noble ship, but a Hydran whostood on the 1000 steps did not ride around in a mere Light Cruiser. No.. a more powerful ship was in order.
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She was called R'lyeh. Named for the ancient Dreaming City of the Mad Gods, she was fresh out of the Shipyard ready for her maiden voyage. Prince Thufi, flanked by his bodyguards, stood on the observation platform and drank in her dark beauty. Eight hundred meters in length, cobalt blue in color, and seemingly carved by artists rather than Engineers. Never say the Hydrans did not have a sense of aesthetics. There was no honor in creating a machine for war based on mere brutality. One must have grace, and beauty, artistry and humility. Not that the R'lyeh did not have power. His old ship the Slarrardo had but a single bank of Hellbores and a twin Fusion Cannon turret. R'lyeh....a true Dreadnought had ten times the armament. From the platform Thufi eyed the massive bank of no less than twelve sublight impellers. Life aboard the Slarrado had given his a respect for maneuverability in combat, and when he found the R'lyeh to have way more engines than strictly necessary he knew it was the ship for him. R'lyeh was no lumbering battlewagon, struggling through the gravity wells. She promised speed and agility unlike contemporary Federation designs. If she lacked somewhat in armor....that was the price to be paid. Crossing the long gangway leading to R'lyeh's airlock, Prince Thufi pondered another of her assets. A full Fighter wing was at his disposal....a tool unknown on tiny Slarrardo. Thufi was not well versed in Fighter Combat....a fools job....but was wise enough to recruit an expert to command his Air Group for him. The notion of flying about in a tiny craft where a single hit meant death.....The Prince shuddered…..insanity. As powerful as she was, R'lyeh however was not the extent of the Prince's new power. The Empress had directed a new offence to begin in Federation space……the Alpha KS-128 system had been woefully bare and Thufi had been chosen to spearhead the effort.
Twelve Starships and no less than four Divisions of Infantry had been relegated to his Command, forming one of the most powerful Task Force's since the opening days of the war. A group hopefully that would reinvigorate the offensive and bring victory at last to the Royal legions.
The Flag Bridge was huge….a cavernous, methane swirled room more than three times the size of Slarrardo's tiny bridge. Misty shadows played across the walls and ceiling as control panels glowed softly in the purple gas that permeated every deck. Sweet purified Methane….so unlike the natural air on the planet below. Thufi had been too long from the fleet. Too long from Starship air. Settling into his plush Leather Command Couch, he gingerly stroked the holographic controls that tied into every ships system. Before him in the mists hung a huge holo-tank with glowing blips that displayed the extent of his new kingdom. ~~My fleet.~~~ 2xDN 2xCV 1xCVE 2xCA 1xCL 4xDD 6xGunboats
Two Dreadnoughts. R'lyeh as flagship, and old Azathoth on her flank. Named for the Idiot god himself the Azathoth had served with distinction for more than 50 years. She was older and slower than R'lyeh but packed a devastating broadside. There were two full sized fleet Carriers and a single Escort Carrier, between them holding over 200 fighters. Completing the battle-line were two heavy cruisers and a single Light cruiser....the Slarrardo itself under new command. The Prince had used his new influence to have his old ship assigned to his task force...unwilling to complete give up his toys. Finally as Escorts there were four Destroyers and a flotilla of gunboats, that would serve to screen the main force. As they got closer to the objective Thufi would be subdividing his command, but for the moment they traveled as one powerful unit.
"War Officer." he blorted softly shifting into the grand new couch, "Give me a strategic estimate. Has there been any change in estimates of enemy strength?" Straightening promptly a young Hydran replied crisply. "Indications are vague at his time my Prince. Its apparent that the Federation knows were are planning something, and will move to counter it, but until we leave dock and establish a course they are witholding any major commitments." Thufi nodded. "But what about known assets in the KS-128 area? Even if they don't know that where we are heading, those ships will surely be used to intercept." The officer shrugged three shoulders. "Strategic intelligence tells us that KS-128 is administrated from the Deep Space 4 facility. Local sector headquarters in nominally Delta IV, a core Federation member, but realistically the field commanders probably have more influence." Delta IV was too far behind the lines to affect a major initiative in their sector. The War Officer consulted a glowing chart, its light diffuse in the methane swirled bridge before continuing. "As you know,… Remnants of the Deep Space 5 fleet have been assigned to DS4.….Flagship being the USS Galaxy…an old Dreadnought class vessel." "I know her." Thufi clicked his beak abruptly. He'd faced down the Galaxy on three previous occasions…..over Romulus, briefly during the assault on DS5, and more recently in the midst of the Kataarn Nebula. The memories were somewhat bittersweet. "She may be an older Dreadnought," Thufi explained to his underling, " but she's been refitted with more modern weapons suites and sensor platforms. We shall not underestimate her." "Yes my Prince," the officer bowed two eyestalks in deference, and filing away that information. "Supposedly she was severly damaged during the Vered Nebula Campaign, but still managed to show up at the Kataarn Nebula engagement. However, SignalOps has picked up a large amount of subspace transmissions from Galaxy regarding information on spinal injuries and surgical interventions…..it seems the Captain…..M'kantu was recently injured at Kataarn and may have been replaced. We don't know by who." Thufi nodded, "Possibilities…..conjecture??" Again with the shrugged shoulders. "Following the promotions of Starfleet personnel is not hard….Their local press publishes such things for all to see, but our lag time is usually a few weeks on such intel." He consulted a new chart. "Fleet BuPers records showed no less than four Captain qualified individuals already on staff with the USS Galaxy. Most senior is a Captain Dallas, however we assume that she is onboard in a support role….a councilor I believe." Thufi turned in his couch, a puzzled expression on his face, "A what?" "A councilor my Prince. Apparently Humans are subject to frequent mental abberations and as such they keep specialists on duty to correct such deficiencies in thought process. We belive them to be some sort of secret Thought Police." "Councilors." Thufi repeated the strange word. "The Federation and their inhumane disregard for fellow sentients." The Officer continued, " We also have a Commander….uh….not sure how to pronounce this Elessidil…or something like that. Once qualified for Command of his own vessel….apparently he's also a member of the Councilor Thought Police, my Lord." "Why so many qualified people on one starship? Who else." "There is a Commander Jaxom recently assigned to the Galaxy…lost his ship in the opening weeks of the war. We think he's onboard in a more Logistical role however." "What… a supply officer?" The Officer shrugged. "Our day to day informationon Starfleet assignments is not 100% accurate my Prince…however, this officer has not received a new command despite availabilities so we presume he is being punished somehow."
"Fine fine…..anybody else?" "One more my Lord." the officer handed over a chart. "Starfleet BuPers shows a Captain Leo Streely assigned to the Galaxy. He is a highly secretive individual. We are unable to find anything about his background except for the fact that he is the head of some sort of Tactical Group founded by….you'll know this name….Commodore John-Kyew Bhrode." "John-Kyew." Thufi breathed the name and sat back fully in his couch. A devilish name known to all on the front lines. "If this Streely is associated with that murdering bastard then he seems our most likely candidate." "Indeed M'Lord. I've begun making discrete inquiries, but for the moment IT seems likely that Streely is the new Galaxy Captain…we'd best be prepared."
The Prince thought for many long moments, considering his options. "Fine…then Galaxy is in the area and likely to respond…she carries a Fighter wing and a Battalion of Shock Stormtroopers correct?" "Indeed." "What about other ship in the area? Who else can respond to us?"
"The mostly likely candidate would seem to be the Zeus….She's a new Fast Battlecruiser, and her Captain is getting quite an evil reputation amongst out fleet." Another glance at the screen. "Captain Von Ernst…a young hot head by all accounts…..records show her as having served on the Galaxy for several years and also as first Officer to John-Kyew Bhrode as well. " he paused with a shiver, "Its rumored she's ten feet tall and has her teeth filed to sharp points, My Lord."
"And where is the Zeus?" "In the area my Prince, but our agents report that its put into drydock at Delta IV three times in the last 6 months…presumably she's still there and unserviceable." Thufi sighed and considered the holographic information before him. So many unknowns, and probably half a dozen outright errors. Things were simpler on the bridge of the Slarrardo when all he had to do was close with the enemy and open fire. Now there was Grand Strategy to consider. "Very well." he clicked at last. "Assemble the Task Force Captains in my War room in 2 hours…I want a complete briefing of all this information you gave me, plus any updates you can dig up. Prelaunch countdown begins in 12 hours. We're going back to War." "Doubts of Defensiveness" 'Assassin's Anarchy' Series Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora JAG
Lt. Victor Krieghoff Acting Security Chief
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Location: Main Security
Storming was much too delicate a word. Ophelia was in a panicked state as she burst forcefully into his office after demanding that she see the acting Chief of Security.
"Did you get this? Have you had a chance to read it? Do you know what she... it... is capable of?" She paused, sucking in a quick breath before the rapid firing of questions continued. "How am I supposed to feel safe?" Lia started to pace back and forth across the front area of the room. "Do you know... do you know that she was on this ship before? As a freakin Diplomat... right under my nose!"
Victor waved a hand to send the Duty Officer still hovering by the open door to Victor's Office back to work, and then waited for the panicked JAG Officer's next breath to say, forcefully, "Stop."
In the momentary silence that followed, as Ophelia stared at him wide-eyed from the sheer impact of the word, he added, "Speak more slowly, so I can understand what the problem is." He paused, and then added "Please," as an afterthought.
"She....she's out to kill me and my son that's what!" Her eyes drifted to an empty seat, knowing that she had to contain herself in some fashion. Sitting, she placed her head in her shaking hands before glancing up with pleading, desperate dark eyes. "She said.... that she would kill me... and my family right before I *thought* she died."
"'She,' in this case, referring to your predecessor in the JAG Office, Lt. McAlister?" he asked. That seemed the most likely interpretation, but for all Victor knew, supposedly dying women threatened to murder the JAG Officer and her family all the time.
Ophelia nodded, holding off on saying anything sarcastic for the moment. Even rattled, the comment still formed. "Yes, McAlister. She escaped... and I got this earlier... did you get a 'memo'?"
Victor nodded. "I did; it came in this morning's message traffic from Starfleet." Along with seventeen security bulletin updates, fifty-two BOLO orders for individuals that were wanted for questioning in various criminal acts, three dozen notifications of pending paperwork items from Starfleet regarding the department that were either overdue or about to be so, and an ever-increasing number of lesser items that he still needed to look at in order to figure out who he could pass them off to.
"What can be done?" Lia asked quickly.
"Any number of things," Victor replied. "Relocatement, alternate identities, extra security precautions, there's a long list of things that can be done. What you're not seeing yet, because the panic is still doing the talking, is that none of them have to be at this moment."
"You would panic too if you had a death warrant stamped across your forehead by a psychotic being that can change forms at the drop of a freakin hat!"
"Lieutenant," Victor said calmly, "I currently have a 'death warrant stamped on my forehead' as you put it, by an Imperial Klingon Intelligence Operative, a clan of dispossessed Denobulans, several minor Rim crime lords, an Orion Syndicate Sector Boss, and probably a dozen or two more that I've either forgotten or don't know about. Adding a renegade chamelioid assassin to the list isn't going to make me lose any more sleep than I already do over all of those others - which is currently none at all." He held up a hand, "But that's not germane to your situation, and you are not me. What *is* germane to your situation is that you are currently panicking needlessly."
"Attorneys at law never panic needlessly," she retorted firmly.
"Because," he continued, "the date of the escape from confinement given, even if we allow for a certain 'play' in the timing to represent the facility's trying to cover themselves, is too recent for McAlister to be aboard this ship at present. She is not here at this time, ahead of the warning, which would indeed be something to panic over. So, knowing that she is *not* here right now, take a deep breath, and think for a moment about your options, all right?"
"Relocation is out... she'd find me. Alternate identities.... yeah, I don't think so. Extra security precautions... I don't hold anything against your staff but...." Ophelia sighed as her mind wondered. "I want to do the least invasive thing possible... for the sake of my son."
"The least invasive thing possible is doing nothing, which I'll tell you now is *not* the option that I'm going to take, no matter what you tell me," Victor observed. "For the moment, you're in the safest place that you can be - a starship far away from Federation worlds, where access is tightly controlled. Until we return to a starbase or a populated world, where that changes, there's not an immediate danger to you or to your son. That gives us time to make plans and set things in place for when there is a danger."
"Pardon me for sounding... apprehensive about the abilities of your department. But, did you ever catch the person that was running amok shitting on everything?"
"No," Victor conceded. "No excuses on that. But that's not the issue here, is it?" He hated admitting that the 'Phantom' had gotten off the ship while he was on the POW rescue, but there wasn't any point in denying it, no matter how stupid it made the department look.
"Look, McAlister scares me. Plain and simple. She's like a recurring yeast infection....pops up in an inconvenient place at inconvenient times." Zamora paused, smiling somewhat at her comment. "Not that I would know or anything...I'm just saying...."
"You should be scared - fear is useful, keeps you on your toes. You just can't let it rule your life." Victor thought for a moment. "Okay, we know that you and your son are safe for the moment... but what about any other family that you might have? McAlister is the sort that would kill your third-grade teacher if she thought it would hurt you."
Her face grew ashen. "My mom....." Zamora's mind ran rampant with dark fear now. Looking up at Victor, her eyes conveyed what her words could not. "She's in a small town in Spain...do you think that...."
"It's doubtful that McAlister has gotten to Earth yet, either," Victor reassured her. "But I put in a request for her to be placed in protective custody and transferred to a new location until this is over thirty seconds after reading the warning."
"Protective.....but. That means I can never see her again....if she isn't already..."
"She isn't," Victor repeated. "If she was, McAlister would have already contacted you to say so, and besides that, I would have been notified - which I haven't. This isn't going to last forever; sooner or later McAlister will slip up and then this will be done with and you can see your mother and go back to a normal life. Or what passes for it around here, anyway."
"Okay." That made her feel somewhat better, but not much. "I want extra security around me, but I prefer plain clothes. My son is likely to start asking questions if he sees all the extra people around us. How about just one person....like...a bodyguard?" Victor considered that. "That's doable, I think. They won't be your only security of course - I'll set some things up for McAlister to find if she manages to get aboard undetected so she can think she's being clever - and then set up two or three more layers past those to trip her up. It would be best if the bodyguard were someone that would logically be part of your life, or could be explained away as part of your life. It won't fool a professional, but it might make them make a mistake, and one is all we need."
"I don't want just any one. I want someone that knows what they are doing if she does get on the ship. Would this be a round the clock detail....or just certain hours? I'd feel better if someone was there constantly. She might send someone to do it for her, although I doubt that."
"No, she wouldn't do that. She might do it with a bomb if it was 'just business,' but her type has to be there, to tell you how clever they are right before they pull the trigger once it's more than that. She'll say that she won't do it that way, but when it gets down to it, I doubt that she'd be able to help herself now that she's decided it's personal."
"I want to help choose who I want. The deadlier, the better. If need be, I'll hire someone if no one....hey....wait a minute...." Zamora paused as her mind went into overdrive. "What about you?"
Victor looked at her for a moment as if she'd just asked him for a reactor coolant milkshake, and then leaned forward. "Lieutenant, think about that for a moment. Do *really* want your son spending a great deal of time in my immediate vicinity? Considering the effect I have on adults is what it is, do you think that it would be wise to introduce that to a child? any child?" "Doubts of Defensiveness" Part 2 'Assassin's Anarchy' Series Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora JAG
Lt. Victor Krieghoff Acting Security Chief
====================== Victor looked at her for a moment as if she'd just asked him for a reactor coolant milkshake, and then leaned forward. "Lieutenant, think about that for a moment. Do *really* want your son spending a great deal of time in my immediate vicinity? Considering the effect I have on adults is what it is, do you think that it would be wise to introduce that to a child? any child?"
Ophelia leaned over, matching his gaze with one of her own laced with non humor. "My son... is 'different' Lieutenant." She leaned back before sighing lightly. "Contact with him would be minimal at best. He attends school full time, has playdates with several of the boys in his class, and has a decent bedtime. After the initial reaction to you, he won't think twice about your presence unless you resemble a train. Please......"
Victor considered it for a moment, and then shook his head. "I have to say 'no,' Lieutenant, but I'll give you three reasons for it. One, because if I'm going to be stopping her, I can't be tied down to one spot, waiting for her - I need to be able to hunt her actively while she's stalking you. Two, because no matter what you think, my presence *will* affect your son, whether it's by causing him nightmares, or something more active; there's no cure for what I am, Lieutenant, it's always there, always pushing at people, and the longer someone is in close contact with me, the worse it gets. And three... I have an entire crew to safeguard now. I want to protect you personally - part of me insists that's the way things should be - but I have to run this department, and that's eating up more and more of my time every day. I can't take the chance that I'll be elsewhere when I'm needed to watch you or your son."
"Fine." She stated simply. "What can be done then?"
"We find someone else to fill the position, Lieutenant; there's nothing else *to* do - leaving you and your son unprotected is unacceptable. I'll work with whomever we select to provide security for you to ensure that they're as good as they can be, so that they *can* protect you if the need arises. All right?"
"I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" Lia retorted sourly. "Just do me a favor, and at least *try* to make that person someone who knows what they are doing."
"If they don't, they will when I'm through with them," Victor promised. "And, while we're on the topic, what are *your* personal defense skills like? I assume you've passed the minimum qualifications, but do they go beyond that?"
"*My* personal defense skills?" Zamora paused. "They suck."
"Then she'll know that," Victor told her. "And she'll plan for it. If she's *really* smart, she'll plan for you taking a crash course in self defense and plan for that too - so we'll need to go a step past that and teach you something different, something that she won't expect." He considered her for a moment. "Would you stand up, please? And then walk in a circle for me?"
"Uh, Okay." She stood, walked around in a circle as instructed and continued to stand looking at him with curiosity. "What was that for?"
"I'm trying to decide what to have you take lessons in, Lieutenant," he explained. "I wish my Aunt were here; she's much better at this sort of thing than I am." He frowned. "Something that you can learn quickly... something that McAlister would never expect..." He smiled suddenly. "Tell me, Lieutenant, do you know how to dance?"
"I've participated in a few ballroom competitions back on my homeworld. I know the salsa, tango, and some others....why?"
"Because if we're very lucky..." he tapped at his LCARS for a moment, and relaxed as a personnel file came up "...and we are, you're going to be taking 'dancing lessons' from another crewman for a while."
"Why? I'm already practiced in those dances that I find interest in." She retorted with a raised eyebrow.
"There are all kinds of dances, Lieutenant. Some of them are decorative, some of them have deep philosophical and religious meaning - and some dances can kill. In this case, an Orion dance-based martial art that you don't see very often: Tatharoc. It's easy to learn, particularly if you have a dance-based background, and while McAlister may have seen it, I doubt she's spent a lot of time learning to counter it... and we have a qualified instructor aboard in Operations, Ensign Katrin Youngblood. I'll speak to her and explain that we need to disguise your lessons as private dance instruction."
Her mouth pursed as her mind thought about what he was basically telling her to do. "Why the hell would I need a bodyguard then? If I can protect myself and my son, there's no need. And to top everything off, McAlister is not going to come to me up front and say....'Let's fight to the death.' She's much more crafty than that."
Victor took a breath and let it out slowly. "Lieutenant, I know what you want here is an absolute guarantee; you want me to look at you and tell you that nothing will happen to you and your son. Fortunately for you, I don't lie to people, so I'm not going to tell you that. If I did, you wouldn't take the steps and do the things necessary to ensure your own safety and that of your son - you'd leave everything in my hands, and that would be a mistake, because while I'm good at my job I'm not perfect. The Divine is perfect, he doesn't make mistakes. Unfortunately, he also isn't sitting in my chair right now, so we have to accept that mistakes will be made, and try to do everything that we can to cover all the bases to minimize problems from them."
"Well, you can tell 'The Divine' that I'm tired of him screwing with my life. First, with my bastard ex husband beating me up on a regular basis, and now some psychotic assassin," she spat.
"He doesn't listen to me much, Lieutenant. If he did, then this would be a vastly different universe for everyone," Victor replied matter-of-factly. "Moving back to a topic I don't need God's help with, think of these preparations this way, Lieutenant. Would you take a case to trial that hinged literally and entirely on the evidence given by a single person? Without preparing and trying to discover something else, anything else, that would bolster your case?"
"No."
"Of course you wouldn't - you wouldn't have your job if you were that green. That's all I'm doing here, Lieutenant. I'm filing a motion for discovery to add more evidence to the trial. That's why you're going to take your 'dancing lessons,' why we're going to assign you personal security, and why you need to establish a 'safe word' with your son, something that you have to say before he will go anywhere with you. Because right now, without that, there's no way to stop her from walking up looking like you and walking off with him if you're off-ship."
"Tell me something I don't know. How... how in the hell am I going to know who's actually who they say they are...." She placed her hands in her face before rubbing her eyes and looking up. "I'm going to go insane... I can trust no one."
"That's the panic talking again," Victor corrected. "You can trust everyone on this ship right now to *not* be McAlister. Five minutes after this meeting, you can trust anyone that uses a transporter to board this ship to not be her, because I'm going to order a lockout on the transporters that holds anyone with a positive Chamelioid match - and the scanners can tell that - to be held in the buffer and transferred to a cell in the Brig. An hour after that, and I'll have a request in front of the CO to let me scan all visitors coming in airlocks, boarding gangways, and shuttlebays for a Chamelioid reading and do the same to them if one pops up. If you do what I tell you to, institute the word game sign and countersigns with your son, listen to your bodyguard, and work with me on the rest, then this should all work out fine. We win, she loses."
Doubt worked its way into her eyes as she studied the man in front of her. "We shall see...." Standing, she offered a slight nod. "I need to get back to duty."
Victor stood and nodded. "All right, Lieutenant. I'll be in touch with you no later than this afternoon about the bodyguard." He paused for a moment. "And Lieutenant?"
"Yes?" Lia questioned as she straightened up her posture.
"Individuals like McAlister like to believe that they're better than everyone else; smarter, stronger, faster, more knowledgeable. Use that. She undoubtedly thinks that she knows everything about you - so do something different, change things. Carry a knife. Change your schedule randomly. Eat different menu selections. Take your son different places. Shake that absolute certainty she'll have and she'll be the one panicking." He smiled a predator's smile. "And wouldn't it be worth a lot to see *her* afraid because things aren't going according to her plan?"
"Lt. I would rather see her dead." With that final comment, she left him in peace. "The Devil's Advocate" Faylin McAlister Location: Undisclosed: Personal Quarters Lt. Commander Steven Wright ============================= Uncurling herself, she slinked out of the chair and with purpose walked cattily over to the body that was on the bed. Damned shame that the mattress was soaked in his blood. It was of good quality. Tilting her head to the side, she admired her message that she had carved into his chest. 'One step closer Zamora' She smiled a crooked little smile. What fear that would evoke within the timid JAG officer. What delicious fear. Knitting her eyebrows, she reached out and wiped a small smear of blood away from the 'a' at the end of Zamora. Perfection! She thought to herself as smeared the blood on her pants. Sighing with happiness, that content feeling washed over her. She was in her element. Now, to find a picture of Steven. Glancing to the left, she took notice of the top of his dresser. There it stood, a full link picture of him in his regulation Starfleet uniform. Taking the frame, she hoisted the image up to her line of vision and studied it. A moment later, and Lt. Commander Steven Wright came back from the dead. His blue eyes critically scanned the area of the bedroom. The information he needed would have to be......ah yes.....his lunch bag Fay thought. Every day he packed his lunch....no one would think anything of it. In fact, they would think it odd if he didn't bring it with him. Wondering out to the kitchen, she easily located the red and steel colored bag. Opening it, she carefully placed the contained eyeball into the area. Zippering it shut, she placed it back on the counter. 'Damn!' Fingerprints....she almost forgot. Turning, she went back into the bedroom, paused and took in her creativeness yet again, and then extracted the scanner. Pressing a button, she held the scanner up to her left finger and grimaced. This always hurt. The laser beam burned the fingerprint onto her left index finger. Growling, she waited for the beep and upon hearing it, she waved her hand back and forth to try and disintegrate some of the pain. The last order of business was the identification card. She placed it around her neck, patted her pot belly, grabbed the lunch tote and headed for the door. Location: Undisclosed Planet Starfleet Security Offices The morning had yet to break. McAlister thought it best to arrive before the actual duty shift came around. God forbid someone viewed her holding up an eyeball to the retinal scanner. Glancing to the left, then to the right, she assured herself that the coast was clear. The eyeball appeared, was scanned and the green light blipped. Placing the orbital ball on the meeting place of her third finger and thumb, she flicked it up in the air not really caring where in fact it landed. "Been nice knowing ya...." She muttered as she watched with fascination it's disappearance. Someone was going to have an off morning when they wondered upon a lone eyeball. Pulling the card from around her neck, she pushed it through the scanner. Secondary identification. In her opinion, Starfleet should have had third, fourth, and fifth identification. Any yahoo with half a brain could get through 'security' on this planet. A slight woosh of the doors and a sudden rush of air conditioned breeze and Lt. Commander Wright was on his way to another glorious day behind the computer console of the security department. The only question now was the location of his office! Fortunately, the nameplate plastered on the wall designated his working environment. Could things get any easier? Fay doubted that it could at this point. "Computer......Blues Brothers 2000. Funky Naussau...." McAlister requested. There was nothing wrong with a little music while she worked. The strains of the jazzy song entered the room. Her eyebrows waggled up and down as she cracked her knuckles. Time to get this show on the road. Communication Send To: Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora, USS Galaxy From: The Devil's Advocate Enclosed: JPGWright The day nears when I will taste your sweet blood on my lips........................ End Communication and Send. Leaning back in the chair ever so slightly, McAlister studied the screen in front of her. Message sent. Just so Ophelia knew she was not playing around, Fay attached a picture of what was left of Lt. Commander Steven Wright. Communication Send To: Lt. Victor Krieghoff, USS Galaxy From: The Devil's Advocate Enclosed:JPGWright Hey there Vic. Long time no see. I hope you are as creepy as you ever been and Starfleet hasn't perverted your wonderful sense of death! Just a note to let you know that you have a little more time to prepare for my arrival. I hope you are doing a good job at protecting Ophelia. We wouldn't want her and her son to end up dead or anything horrid like that. By the way, you always did turn me on with your darkness. End Communication and Send. She lightly chuckled at herself before leaning over and searching for the USS Galaxy. 'Famous ship of morons and misfits.' Fay thought. The console beeped, signaling the end of the search. "There you are you wonderful starship....." She muttered as her finger outlined the information on the screen. "Wow.....it will take a while to get to you....." It was in a way a little disappointing. The damned vessel couldn't be docked somewhere or anything simple like that. It had to be out investigating something. She was going to need a little more help from a certain race. She sent one last message to the Alpha Quadrant requesting assistance. Standing, she powered down the console and exited the building. "Onward!" Flight Officer Aristi Ferguson ***** When Mr. K'aa had told her to read up on the schematics of 22nd But as the senior officers spoke on the landing site, making jokes and Number one: humidity made her unmanageable hair only that much more irritating. Indeed, this was looking as though it would be one of those Paige sighed and slapped at an alien mosquito. She was going to turn "Cadet Sullivan, Petty Officer Tombs, you're with me," her new boss said. The cadet groaned a little as she hurried to catch up and they At the head of the quartet, Aristi Ferguson was happily scanning away, "Given the position and spacing of these buildings," she began, "OK, let's get moving. Don't want to be wasting daylight." Wasting daylight, Paige mentally repeated, glancing up at the sky and She glanced backward at the security crewman bringing up the read of Paige couldn't help a strained, irritated grunt as she tried to Erik pulled out his own tricorder, set it to scan for any dangerous "If anyone starts to feel dizzy, woozy, or otherwise not quite right, "So you can do what, exactly?" the cadet panted, realizing that there This was definitely not what she had been so excited about. At the Or at the very least, lash out with biting sarcasm. "Try to keep them from passing out or getting heat stroke." Erik She had a really good retort, she did. But looking at the tussled "Uhm," was about the extent of it as she handed over the larger bag, Maybe twisting her ankle wouldn't be such a bad thing after all... She forced her attention back toward the others at the front. "Thank Andy grunted. As a rule he preferred outings that were in less humid "Already have an idea of what kind of culture this was?" he asked. "A curious one," Aristi responded, adjusting her gait to match Andy's. "I would," the Betazoid muttered. "So tell me, Mr. Suder... being a civilian who's not a scientist or "I'm a Jack of All Trades," Andrus said with a grin of his own. "I'm a "Not that you have an ego or anything," Paige muttered. Aristi half snickered, half snorted, shaking her head in amusement. Eventually the quartet drifted more or less into silence; the only Even Aristi, with her much higher tolerance for heat, was beginning to "Are we there yet?" Andy asked. "Erza, I fraking hope so," Paige gasped. She could feel how red her Looking over her shoulder at the way they'd come, then back towards She opened her mouth, fully intending to answer with 'just a little "Oya, zular rouch," Paige hissed, hefting the pack back into place. "Hey, what's that?" Erik suddenly asked, seemingly oblivious to "What is what?" the cadet asked, wrinkling her nose, using her "That," the security officer repeated, pointing at the ground several "Mister Tombs, perhaps you could clarify," Aristi asked, looking at "There's nothing there," Erik continued, waving his hand at the spot Aristi gave him a strange look but moved forward anyway, crouching "Some sort of natural phenomenon. Change in soil composition, water "Sorry, I've got a black thumb," Andrus said. "And no one likes a smart ass." "Maybe it's some sort of field," Paige suggested, kicking it with her "No, no, that's a good idea," Aristi replied. "So you think this "Yeah, like a force field. Or a cloak. When Starfleet was first Aristi scratched her chin in thought as she contemplated the cadet's "How did I know you were going to say that?" Paige groaned. "Did you "Protecting the Innocent?" Sophia Zamora
Location: Home of Sophia Zamora, Spain ============================= The years showed on her hands as she kneaded her worries out on the ball of bread dough. A little more flour, and little less worry as the dough molded itself around her hands. Glancing up for a moment, she studied the mini sunflowers that sat in an old Mason jar. One of her friends from her group had brought them over yesterday. Bertrice, with whom she had been friends with for over forty years came over every Saturday morning for tea to catch up on things. She knew that Zamora loved the little flowers with the bright colors so she picked them out of her garden with the simplest of loving gestures. It was the people like that, those were the ones that make her life worth while in the little town. The postman that said good afternoon to her, the younger woman that walked her small dog, the children looking up to her like the grandma she was. All completed her little world. If one person was not present, something felt entirely off. But, today, so far everything was going smoothly. She would have fresh bread baking as she sat at the antique table and drank her tea later. Brushing a strain of dark hair out of her face, Mama bent at the waist. The dough was not pliable enough. She had put too much flour in it this time, yet she would openly admit her mistake to no one. The knock on the door, strong and masculine in nature made her jump. She was expecting no one. In her heart, she knew that someone was about to upset her little world. Wiping her hands on the apron she had made herself, she walked cautiously to the door. Grabbing the handle and opening it slightly, she peered out to see two Starfleet uniformed officers. The door opened wider as concern cemented itself across her aging features. "Gentlemen.....can I help you?" "Are you Sophia Zamora?" "Yyyessss....why?" She shot out as her suspicions grew into fear. "Ma'am we have orders to take you into protective custody, your life is in grave danger." The younger one responded. "What? Why?!?" Zamora paused. "Where's Ophelia? Where's Logan? My grandson...are they....." A single tear of frustration at the unknown ran down her cheek. "Lt. Zamora and her son are safe on board the USS Galaxy." "Ma'am. We need to leave right now." "But...." She turned back to her kitchen. "I'm making bread...and....I don't know what to pack.....and why?" Zamora paused and thought about Bobby. Bobby was the big orange stray cat she tended after by always leaving a bowl of cat food out on her step. He had been there this morning already, before she woke up because the bowl was half empty. Who would feed him now...when she was gone? "Ma'am. We need to leave now! You will be provided with everything you need. It is imperative....." He basically barked then ordered himself to calm down. This was all routine........ Her eyes scanned the officers as uncertainty bit into her mind. Identification, she should ask for it she thought. Then again, the are Starfleet.....they can be trusted can't they? Taking a step outside her door, she glanced at the awaiting patrol car with the words 'Starfleet Security' etched in dark blue on the passenger side door. One had her by the upper arm, which made her highly uncomfortable. "Am I a prisoner?" She asked. "No Ma'am...." "Then let go of my damned arm. I'm old, but can still walk." She spat. "Yes Ma'am. Please......into the car....." She ducked her head, then her body followed into the back seat. A look of grave satisfaction found itself on the Klingon officer as he shut her door a little too quickly in her opinion. Something felt off. The woman could not place her finger on it, but something felt not right. "I want out!" She called forward to the two officers. They did not respond. Her voice cracked a little as she cried out stronger than before. "Let me out!!" Tapping the front console, one officer called it in to his boss. ============================================================== "Sir, we have her." The voice rang out clear and strong. McAlister swiveled in the chair she she was sitting in. The bridge on this ship was absolutely fascinating, and so were those beings that surrounded her. Glancing to the left, she smiled at the creature that held himself behind the metal looking mask. The green strip that composed the visor of his headpiece bobbed up and down. As a small smile crept across her mouth, Fay nodded back before speaking "Very good.....very good indeed." "The Highway Men" Part Two "Too long, brother." Fork gave a small smile. The two vets shook hands and naturally Fork's embrace Templar nodded, "right you are. I've got a corporal waiting outside each transporter room and a Sergeant inside. Our Brothers and Sisters'll get their briefings and assembly areas and we can begin as soon as Zeus is under way." The sergeant for Transporter room 2 was notably absent, but that was because the Chaplain had him waiting outside with the Corporal for the moment. "Why wait?" The Colonel smirked before opening up the crate and handing out some of the laser pointers. Cora nodded as she accepted a laser pointer, "With pleasure sir." She then turned her attention to carrying out the Colonel's orders. It would be good to test her platoon with a mock boarding action. The next half dozen figures were already moving off of the transporter platforms as Templar chuckled and "Really?" Fork grinned at hearing the news. "Can't say it won't be good to have you back, padre. We could certainly use you." As soon as the door opened up the pair at the head of the 'advance' came Clickity-clack. Clickity-clack. The security guards looked strangely at the men firing little marine-green dots at them. "Sir?" "You're dead crewman, carry on." Fork walked past them. "Uhhh... yes sir?" One almost asked as the pair moved on. The giant man acompanying Fork turned and grinned at the pair. "Don't worry boys, you'll be alive come ~~~~~~~~ Ostensibly the co-First officer on the Zeus along with Fear, the Commander was on her way down to the However, when the tall blond turned the corner and noted her fellow crewmen being systematically So much the better, Panic thought as she surreptitiously tapped her comm badge, Panic liked games. "Tap into what you can Sergeant, Arvelion out." The Colonel ended the comm-link, giving the Marines' data warfare experts free reign to 'hack' into the Zeus' primary systems. Were this an actual combat mission, a furious battle between the Zeus' operations staff and his Marines would be likely locking up the Zeus' computer core in a virtual tug of war. For their purposes here however these were only simulated attacks, being conducted in a fashion that the Zeus' operations specialists would know quite well. It was imperative one didn't screw with base codes right now. Wasn't going to stop the Trill Tech Sergeant and two squads of Infantrymen from making their way to the Computer Core. It was fairly easy to gain control of areas like the holo-decks and the mess halls, but there was no real point behind it. The point of friendly drills like this was to test yourself, and to test others. Captain von Ernst sat cross-legged in her command chair listening to Panic's whispered report. Her initial reaction had been to order Fear to cut the Inertial compensators on that particular deck and take the Zeus into a 4000 g-force spin.....thus turning the Marines....and everyone else on that deck into really thin jelly. Only a whispered 'ahem' from Fear reminded her that this being an exercise and all, maybe it wasn't a good "Fine." Rebecca sulked, idly puffing a lock of red hair out her face. "Can we at least cut life support and freeze them out?" "What....to absolute Zero?" Fear raised an eyebrow. Again it was standard procedure, but a bit harsh. Rebecca frowned. "No....noodles....how am I supposed to repeal boarders if I cant kill anybody?" "One wonders." Fear mused with a yawn.....she hated these dumb exercises. "Fine....drop the temperature to...oh lets say -20....Celsius...Fahrenheit...whatever and double the gravity." "Aye ma'am....negative 20 degrees and 2 g's...that'll make em work for it. I'm also dropping the bulkheads around all sensitive areas.....bridge...Engineering... and the Armory." "Force fields around my room also." Rebecca added. "Anybody touches my stuff I really will shoot them "Aye ma'am." Fear smiled. The captain rolled her eyes and pulled out her cross-stitching. She just knew this was gonna delay dinner. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ For'kel was something of a mountain boy in his younger days, so after some initial staggering the feeling of working for each step came back to him and he got his legs on 'right'. The drop in temperature to -20 degrees Celsius, -4 degrees Fahrenheit for those keeping track, was if anything rather refreshing to a cooler climate lover such as himself. There was nothing like a brisk breeze running through the corridors of a starship to make one feel alive. Likewise the Chaplain, a man used to high-G situations was virtually un-phased by the grav-load change. He did look like he was getting a bit nippy though. But poor, poor Leah. The unfortunate Aide de camp and southern belle was well out of her comfort zone in the sub-zero temperatures, and increased gravity. She wasn't exactly comfortable with seeing her breath in the corridor of a starship either. She tucked her hands under her arms and pressed on... opting not to complain over something as small as physical discomfort. It didn't go un-noticed though. After a considerable distance, Fork figured they could take a few seconds' break and removed a maintenance hatch to the external wall. No, he wasn't going to mess with anything important, but the engineer in him was intimately familiar with a little secret of starships. He slid out a larger superfluous bulkhead panel, revealing the warm, secondary plasma relay conduit underneath. "Come here, Leah." When she did he took her hands and pressed it to the conduit. The reaction was an immediate and grateful "Jesus, that's warm!" "Mmmhmm." For'kel nodded in her direction, taking stock of the situation around them. They weren't wearing their hazard suits, which would have made this far easier, but que sera, sera. The question was, what was the best way to go from here? "Computer, generalized internal schematic." Cora and her platoon were making their way towards engineering. Anything or anyone that was in their way ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Captain was still engrossed in her crosstitching. "Duh...Normally yes. Again it has the nasty effect of dissolving anything it touches though." A small chirp interrupted Fear's reply. =/\= Fear....this is Panic....Im right outside, I need to be let back into the bridge....the security bulkhead is in place.=/\= Rebecca shook her head. "Sorry...no can do. Safety of the Federation and all that. Assemble a security Panic's sigh could be heard audibly over the intercom. She knew standard procedure dictated once the Rebecca nodded. "Oh yeah...by the way flood Engineering with anesthsazine gas and flash a little note on ~~~~~~~~~ After his lead fire team pulled a shocked engineering tech out of the jefferies tube intersection by the staging area Thral and the remainder of the group started piling in. All had donned repelling harnesses and the lead element had already started dropping lines. "Corporal, life signs in the Torpedo Room? I'd assume not too many." Thral said as he started hooking up his line to his harness. He'd done this more times then he could remember, usually under fire. "Three sir. Two by our breach point, one on the other side of the room." the Vulcan corporal Thral had been working with since the guerilla operations on Romulus answered. Thral nodded and made sure everyone was hooked up. "Red team, you're up first. Breach and enter once you hit bottom. We'll be right behind you. Go!" A split second later the Vulcan and the others of his fire team were headed down the tube. About 15 seconds later Thral was off and heading down the tube just like old times. It had been a long time since he'd done one of these breaches but once you'd done a few dozen it came easily. About the time he and his team were halfway down the two decks to the armory, he could hear the lead element making its breach. With a swift boot kick the hatch below had been kicked in and he could see light down there. The startled shout of another tech seemed to confirm all was going to plan. A moment later he hit the deck and entered to see three yellow shirted torpedomen with looks of surprise on their faces. "Relax petty officer, we aren't really going to blow up the ship." Thral grinned to the human female that ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "They're in the Armory." reported Fear. "How the noodles did they do that?" Rebecca actually whirled around in her chair fast enough to make her red hair fly. Fear studied her readout. "Well......remember that girl from the Galaxy that you hired on temporarily? There was a long pause before the tiny Captain spoke...."They requisitioned their way into the Armory?" "Um....yup. Seems like it." Rebecca buried her freckled face in her hands. "Please tell me I can kill somebody now." she moaned. "We also got a team heading for the bridge." Fear added softly. Rebecca's head popped up, a cold look on her face. "Fine....drop all force fields between here and there...make an overhead announcement that that particular corridor has been vented to space, and follow ~~~~~~~~~~~ Now it was a screeching siren that joined the mix, and more than the flashing lights, arctic temperatures, and high gravity, the sirens ticked the Colonel off to no end. 'Cog-sucking mother of a sludge-bucket!' He tried thinking to himself, the finely tuned hearing that was often an advantage being used against him in a little space-borne Ju-jitsu. Despite having his palms pressed firmly against his ears though, he moved on. When he was on that bridge... oh there would be vengeance! Yeah maybe not, but the thought kept him moving. "What do we do now?" Leah asked in a shivering voice as she came to a stop in the section right before the 'vented into space' corridor. "I doubt it would be fair to...uhhh... pass." Muttering what was likely unkind words in his native tongue, the Stagnorian Colonel flung open the nearest access hatch. Rebecca could yell at him later (he likely wasn't going to hear it anyway, either because he was deaf or male as Leah would put it), but he sure as hell wasn't taking close-range air-raid sirens anymore. He manually disabled the audio systems in their section, and took a breath. Finally a moment to think. And despite the ringing in his ears, he turned his attention to the impassable corridor. By now the Zeus' reaction time had to be slowing given the attrition among crew members they were suffering, a situation only being exasperated by random starship equivalent of moats popping up all the damned place. "Sergeant, I need a transport." "Sorry Colonel, I still can't get you to the bridge." "I don't need to get to the bridge just yet Illa, I just need to bridge a moat." When they materialized, Fork could hear the footfalls of boots coming their way. With a hand signal he ordered his Marines to make themselves as scarce as they could. Auditory control being at best a tertiary system, Illa had been kind enough to take it upon himself to 'mute' the sirens to a more reasonable level, and since this section's environmental controls were intertwined with the bridge's... it was actually warm. Sure enough, a tall blonde and two hulky gentlemen came running up 'weapons' at the ready. They'd undoubtedly been summoned to investigate the transporter activity. The Chaplain took out the largest of the guards, while Leah 'phased' the second with a few quick bright blasts from her pointer. Fork grabbed Panic from behind and after insuring she fell, guaranteed she did so softly and plopped up against the bulkhead. Had this been a real engagement she'd likely be dead, but hurting and harming Starfleeters was against Starfleet regs, go figure. "We're still stuck on the outside." Leah murmured, thinking of how to get in. "What I wouldn't give for a Trojan Horse." That notion sparked an idea in the Colonel's head. He knelt down next to Panic. "Umm... this is horribly ungentlemanly but, well you'll have to forgive me... good of the cause and all." And without warning he plucked the communicator right off her chest. "Simulated medical emergency on the bridge!" Now the medical teams came, responding as they would during an emergency. Medical emergencies over-rode just about any other concern aboard a starship with few exceptions, after all how could you fight if your bridge officers were dying? And as soon as the docs cleared the way, the Marines ran in, tailgating them right to the heart of the Zeus' Operations center. The Chaplain and Leah shot Fear 'dead'. And the Colonel approached the pretty little red-head in the central seat and flashed her. "Bridge secured, as are decks 2 through 4," Templar said as he received reports from some of the units. Surprisingly the dead Captain just sat there sipping lightly on a frozen dessert. The dark haired second officer stood behind her console smiling sweetly. "Colonel Forkel," the redhead nodded in greeting and indicated a glowing panel. "Bang you're dead." The computer was counting softly to itself. "The Making of a Colonel" There was the sound of a strike. It wasn't the open palmed smack of a woman trying to shoo off some unwanted advance though, it was the sound of Ceresa pulling back her fist and 'really' laying down the law. The fist-print of a very emphatic 'no' welled up on Joshua's face while he fell ass backwards in surprise to the floor. "I told you 'no'." Fork had listened to their arguing long enough. Everyone involved was nearly thrown out of the program, and it was only the fact that several witnesses to events vouched for the trio that they weren't recovering from their wounds in supervised brig cells. "We can't go after them... you want to explain why it is you were the first to be expelled from a test program?" Ceresa took off, and a surprised Joshua, like one of those damned crows from the glass and surface cleaner commercials that flies right into the door because they didn't know it was there, crashed into the large window where his door had once been. 6404 |