~The Danger of Mixing Weapons and Science, Part II~


Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Lt. Jg. T'Pei




In his hurry to get away from Cutter before he changed his mind and did him bodily harm, Chris almost collided with Lieutenant T'Pei as she entered the lab. Muttering a muted, angry apology, he brushed past her. The short woman affixed a steely gaze on Cutter.

"What did you do to upset him?"

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about," the avian scoffed. Then, after a moment, "What makes you think I did anything?"

T'Pei affected Vulcan eyebrow raise number eight, a variation which clearly said that his reply proved her point. Cutter had always hated that particular face.

"First, although I have had limited experience with Lieutenant Daniels, I have not observed him to be typically given to anger. Second, while at the academy, I observed numerous instances of individuals becoming emotionally unbalanced or violent as a direct result of your presence. It is simple conjecture that it is you who are responsible for causing his current state."

The Vulcan Lieutenant delivered this speech without the slightest rancor, while typing commands into a console. As the data appeared on the screen, she turned back and added, "Correct me if I am neglecting to consider something."

"That doesn't imply that I did anything," he harrumphed, fluffing his wings defensively behind him, and turning his attention to the display. On the left a DNA helix rotated slowly next to images of several chemical compounds. Cutter promptly ignored it in favor of the other side, which was far more interesting to him. A map of an energy field, which looked similar to...

T'Pei stepped in front of that side of the screen, deliberately blocking his view. She needed Cutter's attention. And prior experience dictated that the best way to keep Cutter's attention focused on what you wanted was to take away any other options.

"I noted several unexpected findings in the creature's biological makeup, which will be useful to relay before we discuss other findings." She gestured to a rotating tetrahedron on the screen. "The bones are composed of silicon dioxide. Furthermore, the creature's blood contains significant quantities of two organosilicates: methylsilanetriol and disilane, with trace amounts of trisilane."

The Fruna'lin narrowed his eyes. "It's a silicon-based lifeform."

"Indeed," T'Pei responded. "That is my conclusion as well. Although, it would be more accurate to describe it as organosilicate-based. Silicon alone reacts in a volatile manner with oxygen, posing a problem for most organic lifeforms; carbon-silicon compounds are much more stable."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Cutter asked impatiently. It wasn't like T'Pei not to get right to the point.

"It is quite important, actually. No other life we have examined on the planet is silicon-based." The Vulcan paused for a moment, watching Cutter assimilate her statement. Before he could respond, she motioned at the DNA helix he had noted earlier.

"What do you notice about this structure?"

Cutter stared at the base pair she had indicated, seeing nothing unusual--a pyrimidine derivative, two hydrogen bonds...his eyes flicked to the fifth carbon...which had an attached methyl group.

"You've made a mistake," he concluded. "The creature ingested part of some human crewman. This DNA came from him."

T'Pei looked mildly offended. "I assure you, I have made no mistake," she said gravely. "The DNA of this species, unlike all others so far documented on the planet, contains Thymine."

"Then it is not from this planet.

T'Pei nodded at Cutter's assertion. "I concur. The question remains, however, of why these creatures do not undergo dimensional realignment. If you were correct about the energy field on the planet matching the harmonic vibrations of thymine, then this species must have some natural way to block it."

She finally stepped away from the screen, uncovering the second image. On it was an outlined schematic of the creature. Overlayed on top of the cartoon was a map of an energy field, its degree of intensity indicated at each point by the varying shades of yellow.

"Commander Smith noted that her phaser was ineffective against the creature. When I examined the plating on their head and haunches, I found this," T'Pei explained. "The plating contains cells that are similar to electrocytes, the type of cells that produce electrical discharge in certain aquatic animals. However, instead of sodium ions, these cells circulate terrion particles."

"Terrion particles can be used to create a field that interacts with the weak force," Cutter said suddenly, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes," T'Pei affirmed. "I believe the field these cells generate is capable of deflecting nadion particles, thus rendering phaser discharges essentially inert."
A look flashed across Cutter's face, the look that flashed by when he was ignoring what had just been said, because he thought what he was about to say was much more important. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, as the comment he had tried to ignore circled back for a second pass. "Uh...well, no, it couldn't possibly deflect the nadion particles. It's probably a W boson induced decay interaction. Nevertheless, the outcome is the same," he explained, then as his own addition launched its counterattack, switched tracks. "Blocking the phaser fire isn't important. Blocking the dimensional realignment is."

"I believe this field is also responsible for that ability, as well," T'Pei said.

Cutter stepped towards the holographic black board and began to write a series of matrix algebraic equations. When he reached a point where he began to expand a coefficent matrix, he paused and explained, "Any field created by a current of terrion particles would add a multiplicative factor to the Maki-Nakagawa-Sakata matrix. If we knew what that factor... well, actually, we don't need to know. We don't care about the exact result. Any change to the MNS matrix changes the relation between neutrino mass and flavor eigenstates. The subspace field on the planet surface is causing all the neutrinos passing through the planet to change into tau neutrinos, which are, in turn, exciting vibrational harmonics of thymine molecules, which are, in turn, interacting with the aforementioned subspace field in a way that is bringing the thymine molecules and everything near them into alignment with the subspace dimensions, causing the crew to quote-unquote, in Lieutenant Daniel's inaccurate layman's terms, phase. But the terrion field-- the terrion field will force the tau neutrinos to change into something else, either electron or muon, which then won't interact with thymine, and will prevent realignment!"

"There is something else," T'Pei said, her voice lighter than its normal staid tones. If any two other people had been in the room, the mood might have even been described as excited. "Crewman Upchurch's DNA was present in the stomach contents, despite his having been consumed several hours before the creature was beamed up to the ship. This suggests that an artificial version of the same field could be used to stop realignment from occurring in an away team."

"I believe that was implied by my explanation," the avian said without looking away from the blackboard. "It should be simple enough to create a number of patches that circulate terrion particles and place them around a humanoid body. They would work like these plates."

"There is a significant obstacle to overcome, however. Here," T'Pei turned and grabbed a new PADD. "I require your input to verify this, but my analysis suggests that the terrion field that the creatures project is not one hundred percent effective."

The Fruna'lin stared at the PADD for a few moments in deep thought, trying to decide if she could possibly be correct. "Perhaps," he concluded. "Its unlikely the terrion field would completely eliminate the presence of tau neutrinos. It is more likely that the probability of the neutrinos being in the tau state is just lower. Which might mean that the dimensional realignment would just take longer, or, it might mean that the realignment can't be completed. The process takes time, at least several hours. If the thymine vibrational field isn't maintained, I would suspect the alignment would reverse. If the tau neutrino count was low enough, then the realignment would become a Sisyphean task, constantly progressing, then reversing, back and forth."

"An unknown which could cause danger to the away teams," T'Pei pointed out.

"We'll test it on a rabbit or something," he said. "That's not my concern. If that test fails, if whatever test animal we use suffers ill effects, then we might as well call off the search, because our missing crewmen will have suffered in the same way. I'm more worried about the toxicity of terrion particles and lengthy or repeated exposures."

Concluding that Cutter's point was logically sound, T'Pei stacked her collection PADDs neatly and pushed them towards Cutter. "If my presence is no longer required, I will inform Lieutenant Krieghoff of my necropsy findings." The other scientist nodded and went back to his calculations.

"Cutter, there is one other matter," T'Pei said from the door. She had elected not to press Cutter after their last mission regarding his prescient reaction to the parasites inside the Starbeast, but the events of the last day had made it clear that silence was no longer prudent. "It would be unwise for you to take part in this away mission. Or any away mission in the immediate future."

Cutter turned away from the blackboard to face her. "Why?"

"I have read Lieutenant Daniel's report," she said, referring to the fact that he had seen things that Daniels couldn't - namely the illusion of Lieutenant Hunter blue-shifting. "It is illogical to deny the potential significance of the incidents on the planet, as well as the event that occurred inside the Starbeast."

He frowned and turned away. "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"So you have said." T'Pei studied the tension in the Cutter's posture, trying without success to discern just how much he was not admitting. "Ignoring reality merely because it is unpleasant will not cause it to alter."

She waited, but Cutter gave no immediate response. Several long moments passed. Eventually, without, turning, he announced, "Tell Victor that I will alert him when the terrion patches are ready."

"Dark side of the Solar System"

The Hunt for Faylin McAllister Continues

Even in Paradise there can be trouble.

The world of the 24th century was largely an idealist utopia of exploration, expansion and the discovery of one's self.

One was only limited by their ability and ambition and to those that had ample quantities of both, the sky was literally no longer the limit.

Still even in a meritocracy such as the Federation , where one's station is governed by ones abilities, there are those who long for the rewards and benefits that they do not necessarily 'merit'.

In the land of plenty....there are still those who want it all.

Yuri Alexandrovitch Morochenko was just such a man.

Called Mr. Pluto by his friends....and worse things by his enemies, this greasy haired opportunist had long staked out the ninth planet of the Solar System as his own personal Kingdom of Corruption.

Not that he got away with much. The Earth Authorities were well aware of his little gambling pits, petty smuggling operations and dalliances with vice for sale.

They could have easily shut Morochenko down years ago, but there was one shining reason for turning a blind eye to his pathetic little enterprises.

.....but more on that later.....

For now, standing against the huge floor to ceiling windows of the Tombaugh Basin Casino, Mr. Pluto looked out across the icy desolation of the world that was his namesake.

The seasons were heading into Pluto's long 100 years winter and he wanted to take the opportunity to watch the sky fall.

Contrary to popular belief, the ninth planet of the solar system did actually have an atmospher of sorts; a whispy blend of ice methane and nitrogen.

The tenuous gases actually went through a cyclic routine during Pluto's long 200 plus year trip around the sun in that as winter approached, the air actually solidified and fell the to ground in a light shower of ice crystals that sparkled dimly in the light of the distant sun.

From there...for the next 100 years one could actually walk across the surface on the 'frozen atmosphere' ...literally leaving footprints in the sky.

One day....a century hence the planet would warm up again and the surface would 'boil' giving the tiny world an thin atmosphere once more.

Morochenko just thought it was pretty. Slowly falling ice jewels flickering in the darkness.

Turing away from the windows he turned up the collar on his faux leather coat and descended deeper into depths that was his lair.

Pluto was a haven for those that felt rejected by the politically correct meritocracy of the Federation. Let the outside world attend quiet little concerts of Mozart and Beethoven....let them ooo and aaah over the latest in post modernistic painting and sculpture.....

Pluto was last frontier for the headbangers and the body piercers......goth girls and men in funny rubber suits....

This was the true utopia for Morochenko, he thought with a smile as the warm blast of sweat and pounding music slapped him in the face.

It was called Club Hades. An appropriate name given that it was the realm ruled by the Roman God Pluto

Buried deep within the icy core of a forgotten planet, the rejects of the universe joined together in an orgy of music and dance and liquid light.

Pounding bass lines and twirling colors…..

Intoxicating women and sweat drenched Adonis……

The outside world of tranquil methane snowflakes was already forgotten as Yuri squeezed past the huge bouncer and into the throbbing mass of humanity (and inhumanity) that ebbed and flowed across the dance floor in time with the pounding music.

Snagging a colorful drink off a passing tray, Mr. Pluto dug out the olive with one hand and lovingly stroked the backside of an shapely passerby with the other.

He was rewarded with a coo and a giggle…..such was his power here.

His women....they were all his women on the ninth planet.

Short ones....tall ones....black rubber clad ones.

Thin ones....fat ones.....ripped net stocking ones.

Half walking….half dancing his way through the crowd while protecting his drink, Yuri paused to allow his hand to graze another young curved form.

There was no protest….he was Mr. Pluto, and the women were his to touch and feel. He smiled a golden toothed smile, his eyes hidden behind expensive sunglasses.

The irony of wearing such things on a planet that received barely a fraction of the sun's total output was not lost on Morochenko.

It was part of his mystique. The mystery of a man who could have any woman he chose out of a crowd of a thousand dancing fishnet clad nymphs, writhing to the pounding rhythms of the techno speakers and neon lights.

They were the young and beautiful creatures of the night who danced and played on the outer reaches of the Solar System's darkness.

The rejects cast out from the light and warmth of correct society.

Happily squeezing his way between two shapely bodies clad in nothing but tissue paper, Morochenko made his way to the central bar; a neon lit oasis of fiery potions and even hotter conversation.

A surprising sight awaited him there.

There...sitting calmly in the dancing laser-light was a woman he did not recognize…..a woman he had not yet made his.

She was facing away from him, talking intently with the wizened old Bartender, true, but to Yuri's trained eye he could spot a familiar bottom at fifty paces......hers was slim and unknown to him.

The dress he could see was short and black. A low cut back and creamy white skin promised an even better view from the front.

~~Time to greet the newcomers.~~ he smiled, admiring the way the backlight set off her spray of golden blond hair.

Saddling up to the bar beside her, he allowed his multi-ringed hand to trail down that smooth back to test the firmness of that ass.

"Welcome to Pluto my dear." he oozed, approving of what he felt, "Tell me....Have you ever played Leap Frog Naked?"

She turned around to face him, a blue eyed smirk dancing in the neon lights.

"Hey Yuri." she replied cheerfully. "Long time no see. You done touching my ass now?"

"DAUGHTERY!!!" Flinching as if stung by a thousand hornets, Morochenko jerked his hand back and actually stumbled back away from the bar. "What are you doing here!?! Get away from me you bitch!"

Swiveling slightly on the barstool, Deputy Marshal Mel Daughtery watched the petty criminal backpedal. "Oh come on Yuri....is that anyway to greet an old friend? Aren't you going to say anything about my dress?"

Instead Morochenko was gesturing wildly to the man behind the bar. "Call security! Get her out of here" he sputtered...suddenly breaking out into a cold sweat "Toss that crazy bitch out on her skanky ass you moron! This is my bar!"

Any move the bouncer might have made was halted by the slinky blond producing a shining gold badge from somewhere within the confines of her tight dress.

The bartender raised his eyebrow at his employer as if to say. 'Toss out a Federation Marshal? You're on your own boss.'

"You broke my nose last time you bitch!" Mr. Pluto Sputtered, "I've got a restraining order against you! You cant be here! I'm calling the cops!"

"Somebody call a cop?" boomed a deep voice from behind, causing poor Yuri to jump out of his skin.

Marshal Bin Hux, tightly clad in the dark leather trenchcoat of his office was standing right behind the poor criminal who was suddenly as pale as the snow outside.

Despite the heat and noise of the club, he suddenly felt quite cold.

"Bin!" Yuri cried circling around behind the big man as if to hide. "Keep that crazy partner away from me....she's psycho! She hit me last time!"

"You pulled a knife on her Yuri." Hux reminded. "You're lucky she didn't take it from you and return the favor."

The poor Russian was already pawing desperately at the big Marshal....his world collapsing around him. "Bin...please...I've always liked you Bin....You've been fair to me....not hit me too many times.....except the time with the broken chairs...."

"You were running and I didn't feel like chasing you." the Marshal sighed glancing wearily at his partner. "I had to throw something at you before you jumped out of the window. Besides, I saved your ass Yuri….we were four floors off the ground."

Mel was calmly sipping on an adult beverage clearly enjoying her surroundings. She was a dancer before she was a Marshal, and the call of the dance floor was intoxicating.....even if it was run by such a little weasel. "Just ask him." she sighed bobbing her head to the music, "then we can go."

"Go?" Yuri seized on that word and the possibility that there might be a way to get rid of the lawmen and still hold onto all his limbs. "Sure sure Bin...just ask me....ask Yuri...I tell you anything." he smiled...gold tooth sparkling in the laser light. "I know lots of things."

Which brings us to the reason that Law enforcement tolerated the petty criminal empire out on the ninth planet. Mr. Pluto was the biggest stool pigeon in the Alpha Quadrant.

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

The story was quickly told.

Hux and Daughtery had Yuri quickly trapped between them in a corner booth where he nervously nursed a drink between bouts of betraying his fellow n'er-do-wells.

"A l…l...large shipment." he stuttered, "DNA morphic drugs right off the back of the delivery shuttle. I…I don't know what they were for, but they were very specific in the quantities and compositions required."

"And these 'businessmen" Hux prodded, pouring the man another drink. "Breen Agents you say?"

"Da." Yuri nodded, "I swear it. Refrigeration suits….masks…everything. "

Hux exchanged looks with his partner. It seemed they had stumbled upon a military intelligence coup, but some things were not making sense.

"These Breen agents…..you were contacted through McAllister's crime group?"

"Nyet Marshal….the other way around. " Yuri got so brave as to actually try and bum a cigarette off of Daughtery, " I don not think that the crime group was interested in associating with me, but the Breen themselves seemed to have no other method of obtaining the permits and chemicals. I was brought in as a sub-contractor, da?"

He told a tale of how he had obtained shipments of DNA suppressant chemicals that while their exact use was unknown, to those within the law enforcement community it was recognized that they had the side effect of masking one's unique fingerprint of genetic material.

The Breen….or someone within their contacts within McAllister's group was interested in hiding who they really were…..somebody who had an interest in defeating some of the most advanced electronic security systems devised by the Federation.

Hux sighed and rubbed his jaw wearily. Someplace like the security on a starship during time of war.

"These Breen…..you know where they are now?"

"Da." Yuri was quick to spill the information. The quicker to get away from these two.

The Marshal's talked for a bit longer before finally deciding to leave Yuri to his nervous twitches. Hux turned away, marching purposefully through the dancing crowd, intent on following up this next lead.

Standing tall in her slinky black dress, Marshal Daughtery tarried a bit, seemingly tempted by the music, before she seemed to remember something and returned to the booth where Yuri sat.

There without preamble she reigned back and slammed her fist dead on into his face with an audible crack and a spray of blood.

"OWWWW YOU BITCH!!" the criminal sputtered, cradling his face "You bwoke my nobe again!!"

"That's for grabbing my ass Yuri" she smiled sweetly, "Nice place you got here…..pleasure doing business with you."

Echoes of Another Mind

Lt. JG Artim Shivar - Lost Kid

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

<<Somewhere in the Jungle>>

When last we left poor Artim he was all alone in the dark scary jungle. Well, physically alone at any rate as it would seem he was seeing another person. Someone who'd been dead a good two centuries. Worse then that there was something rumbling in the nearby trees. Something rather big. Something that was getting closer.

"I wonder if they'll ever find your body. You never went back to bury mine did you Artie?" the illusory brown-hair boy said in a rather content tone. It seemed he was enjoying Artim's predicament.

"Shut up.", Artim's reply was quite shrill, but could you really blame him? For all he knew he'd be seeing the real Liam soon in the afterlife. However, he wouldn't allow himself to go down easy. Hastily Artim looked around for something that he could defend himself with. After a frantic search he settled on a fist size rock. As he moved to get a stout tree between him and the oncoming...whatever it was he could hear Liam chuckling.

"You really think that's going to save you huh. So what do you think it is? One of those weird things you couldn't shoot? Maybe some kind of bear. Yeah, like what killed me. I'm hoping its a bear."

Artim merely glared at "Liam" not wanting to risk making a noise. It was close now. Any second now Artim's likely doom would emerge from the brush in front of him. Something that would likely tear him limb from limb and then devour him. Not the way he'd hoped to go. Nor the time or place. But, well, it was coming and he might as well accept it.

Any second now...and there it was! It...well....it wasn't nearly as scary as Artim thought it would be. And it didn't have big scary claws. It still saw him though and started bounding towards him. It jumped at him, knocking him to the ground and then...it started licking him.

It was only at this moment that Artim was able to get a good look at what was now on top of him and slobbering him like a rather large puppy. It looked kind of like a big blue hippo with a tuft of bright yellow hair on its head, but, well, smaller. It was about the size of the largest Terran dogs, maybe a tad larger. And it was built more like a pig then anything else aside from a tail that appeared to be happily wagging. It was actually kind of cute...but it was heavy and Artim started having a difficult time breathing.

"Allright...come on...get off me" Artim tried to push the thing off him and eventually it moved a bit to let him up. Artim rolled out from under the creature but felt a sharp pain in his side as he did. The impact must have bruised a rib, or at least that what it felt like. As he leaned against the tree the pig-dog-hippo thingy started sniffing him curiously. It didn't seem the least bit dangerous. Liam seemed upset.

"Lucky. I bet you want to keep him.", Liam stared at the thing with disgust as it finished sniffing artim and then moved over to start munching on a nearby bush with some odd looking red berries on it.

"Well, it is cute. And why were you hoping it would eat me! I didn't want to leave you but...", Artim didn't know why he was talking to himself, much less arguing with a repressed memory or some such thing. The shrinks though would probably say it was theraputic. Or a sign he was quite insane.

"You were more interested in saving your own hide. Always about saving yourself and never your friends." Liam wasn't even looking at Artim at this point and was instead making faces at the creature.

"Dammit you know that's not true. I'd have given anything to save you...but...I couldn't."

Still ignoring him Liam replied, "Surrrrrre. You didn't even try Artie. Just like you didn't even try to save Jenna on Virica IV. Or Kelso in the Kalthus belt. Ya always looked after your own arse first. You let us all die just so you could go on."

Artim blinked rapidly as if shocked by what he heard. But then his look changed from one of horrified shock to a deeply introspective look...maybe...no...he'd tried to save Jenna but the Jem'hadar clubbed him in the head...as he ran away. Kelso...he was already dead...or he was going to be. Noone could have survived those burns...right?

"Aha. You know I'm right don't ya. Deep down you know it Artie. You know you're a little coward and not the brave white knight you try to convince people you are. Not to mention the second you're all alone you get as scared as an elephant does around a mouse..

"Just go away!"

The creature who'd been munching quietly on the odd red berries looked back at Artim as it could understand Artim. It lumbered back over and sat down next to him. Artim couldn't help but stroke the hair on the creature's head...dammit...Liam was right.

"Weary"

With

Benedict "Max" Maxwell, APP
Petty Officer 2nd Class, NCOIC EMRT
USS Galaxy

Maxwell's Quarters...

Fuming was not the term Max would use to describe how he was feeling. In fact, he was at a complete loss of words to give his foul disposition a title or name since clearing the transporter room and debriefing. As soon as he returned to his quarters, the first task was to sit down and compose a message to Lt. Krieghoff:

Lt.Krieghoff,

I would appreciate your support in gaining authorization from the Captain to return to the surface in Hazard gear to retrieve our missing personnel. Attached is my written after action report regarding the away mission to the Engineering Section of the NX-19. If you require any further information or if you are available to discuss this matter further, I am at your disposal.

With Regards,

B. Maxwell, APP
Petty Officer 2nd Class
USS Galaxy

He shuddered at the last five words in his memo, but shrugged it off and tapped SEND.

Next, he stripped and took a long hot steaming shower as he felt foul being exposed to that planet's air for any length of time. Something just wasn't right about that place, he was certain of it. He filed the notion away in that clutter of near-forgotten memos to himself in the back of his mind. Instead, he took the time to enjoy his hot shower on his weary muscles and aching back with the cascade spray pattern from the shower head taking him away somewhere.

Harsh reality set in when he felt himself fall right on his ass, but in spite of himself he began giggling and then laughing at how silly he must have looked. Picking himself up, he turned off the shower and patted himself dry with his favorite towel. While somewhat faded, it still sported the image of a robot caught between some sort of transformation from a wheeled cargo transport.

"I should call on Lia," Max said to no one in particular, but for some reason decided against it. Sleep was much more important, he decided. He donned his garb for the evening: A gown reminiscent of the fictional 'Scrooge' of 'A Christmas Carol', which was one of his favorite all time stories. It was even rumored that the one and only Captain Picard actually portrayed Scrooge in a one time production. Max didn't care if the rumors were true or not. He liked the outfit.

Within minutes he has lowered the lights and gotten under the covers after lowering the temperature to 21.1 C. Soon after that he was snoring away like a mad logger in a mill.

He was awake for about a minute before the door chime sounded. Before he could make it to the door he heard her voice.

"Max, are you there? I need to see you." Max moved as fast as his weary body would allow as he opened his door and saw Victory standing there.......

"Evil Red Beasts"

*****

Somewhere, someone was screaming and that was never a good thing.

Curiosity piqued, he slid through the dense forest, barely stopping to contemplate the strange effect of leaves and trees and prickly-but-not branches as they passed right through his skin and out the other side.

After all, the effect was the same as it always had been since he'd been old enough to notice it and remember, and so there was certainly no need to contemplate it. At least, not from a purely scientific standpoint. But, the mere act of contemplation kept his mind working, and if his mind kept working then it couldn't betray him or fail him or just stop working entirely.

And so he contemplated.

But not as much as normal.

After all, there was screaming nearby and that was far more interesting than here-but-not leaves and here-but-not trees and here-but-not teeth and tearing and gnashing.

Oh wait, that was very real.

Well, to his eyes at least.

Carefully (although it really didn't matter, he reminded himself) he stepped through the last layer of forest that remained between him and the screaming and the inevitable teeth. Barely two meters away a pair of rebbises were fighting over dinner, oblivious to his presence. Well, almost oblivious, as the closest rebbise paused in his feeding and sniffed loudly, forked tongue licking the air. It was the dance they did, he knew, for the rebbise could not see, could not hear, could not smell, could not touch him or any of the Kahru...but somehow, on some primordial level, they could sense something was there.

Moving closer, he positioned himself between the pair of snarling red beasts, standing directly in their here-but-not food. This was his favorite part, watching as their teeth and claws passed into him, nearly always pulling back with strings of bright red flesh stuck between them.

Then, something crackled in the middle of the mess, the unexpected sound spooking the animals for a moment. Uncertain what to make of the noise they each took a step back, looking at each other with an almost curious expression as a strange voice began to speak inside the pile of bloody remains.

=/\= Krieghoff...Away Te--SCREECH--bers. Be advised that there has...szzzzzt--ZRRRR--eam fatality... =/\=

*****

"Any idea who it is...er, was?"

"Negative, Captain," T'Mar reported, her upper lip curling slightly as she plunged her hand into the bloody mess. A split second later she withdrew her hand, holding up a small metallic object. Frowning, the captain reached forward and took it from her, using one grimy thumb to smear away the strings of flesh that still clung to it. As expected, it was a small tack pin, golden in hue and roughly two centimeters tall, made in the shape of the stylized delta that the Federation Starfleet was now using as its emblem.

Someone's rank insignia.

"Only one method available to us will conclusively determine the identity of the deceased. We must take a census and by process of elimination determine who is no longer present," T'Mar stated, moving towards a tree with large, flat leaves that she could at least wipe her hand on. It was a well known fact that Vulcans would not touch their own food; they found it distasteful, and so touching another's food, particularly when that food had up until recently been a crewmate, was downright revolting.

"Yeah." JP nodded, looking up at the gradually darkening sky. They'd been losing a lot of people to these things, these "evil red beasts" as some of the crew had taken to calling them, and each time they'd had to figure out who the pile of bones and boots had been the only way they could-- by doing a quick roll call until someone didn't answer when their name was called. On the first day they'd had three such encounters. On the second day it was four, then five, then seven, then back to four. Today it was seven again, and each attack was slowing them down. Ferrying crewmembers in small groups to the ruins in the north had seemed more logical than simply having all three hundred sixty seven of them migrate en masse, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea. The "evil red beasts" had proven more than capable of tracking them and picking out whatever food they needed from each group.

At least, he reminded himself, tomorrow would be the last march north. The city ruins were more protected than their wrecked starship and certainly more protected than a few dozen people tromping through a dense rainforest.

Automatically pocketing the rank device, JP looked back at T'Mar, who was patiently waiting for orders. "Alright," he said with a slight nod. "But make it quick."

She returned his nod, then removed a folded piece of sweat-stained paper from a pocket. "Abbatte, Carolyn; Ensign..."

*****

Their meal all but finished, and spooked by the screeching noises and disembodied voice coming from within the remains the rebbises moved off, leaving him alone to examine their leavings.

=/\= ...or under att--FFFFZZZZT--out at the first SZZZT SZZZT SZZZT out. =/\=

"Cureese," he mumbled to himself, kneeling on the forest floor, eyes widening. His head darted from side to side, long, unbound black hair swishing quietly against the leather of his garments as he searched for the source of the magic voice. "Cureese, cureese, cureese."

Getting on all fours he bent down so his face was mere inches from the spot. The here-but-not flesh gave off no smell, and it would not dirty him, and such a sight had long ago ceased to evoke any reaction in him other than fascination. Shifting his weight so it was supported by three limbs he reached a hand out and dragged it through the mess, grinning impishly.

The hand came away bloody.

"Isgut!" he cried, losing his balance and falling squarely into the wet pile. That wasn't supposed to happen! Nothing the ribbises ate was here; it was all here-but-not!

He scrabbled backwards, away from the remains which had suddenly begun to smell very pungent and very coppery. So they were here, not here-but-not, but here!

And then, something caught his eye. Something shiny.

Revulsion forgotten for the moment he leaned forward. "What is?" he asked the mess. "What is?" At the center of the pile sat a silvery object like a triangle with a piece taken out of the bottom, with a gold piece joined to its back. He squinted down at it. Something sparked in the back of his mind, a long forgotten piece of knowledge Honored Mother and Honored Father had told him as a boy. Was this the 'delta' they had described to him? And more importantly, was this what had made the voice?

"Wake wake?" he said to the item. "Wake wake, bake bake?" he repeated, reaching down to grab it.

His fingers passed right through it, but still picked up more pieces of the remains surrounding it. "No. Here-but-not. No." He wouldn't be able to touch it.

And then, something very strange happened. Before his very eyes, it shimmered in a column of blue stars and then vanished. He looked to the sky, something else in his mind awakening as he imagined where the 'delta' might have gone. To the sky? To the stars? To a...'wessa'?

His jaw dropped as he considered the possibilities. It was unlikely, they had told him as much, but...had the Masters of Honored Mother and Honored Father returned?

"Bad Breath, Mind Melds, and Terrion Fields"

Lt. Victor Krieghoff
Lt. JG T'Pei

**********
USS Galaxy
0530 hours

**********

Victor was waiting in his office for T'Pei when she arrived, having
already viewed the morning's message from Faylin McAllister - a
recording, the fifth in a row, which suggested that she was doing
something that couldn't be interrupted to taunt him - and checked in
with Sciences to see if Cutter was still secluded in his lab trying to
figure out the displacement issue. He was in the middle of filing his
report regarding the brief telepathic contact that he'd had with 8-Ball
when the Vulcan cleared her throat.

"Come in Lieutenant," he waved her in. "What have you got for me on the
necropsy?"

"A good deal, actually." Ignoring the painted line designating the safe
zone, T'Pei handed the Lieutenant a PADD with her complete report,
sitting in the lush, non-Starfleet issue chair that Krieghoff indicated.

T'Pei studied the Security Chief as he scanned her notes. She found the
man to be an enigma. Most humans' actions were straightforwardly
emotional; his behavior was, by comparison, admirably detached and
logical. However, the Lieutenant's detachment contained disconcerting
hints of violence. He had openly discussed hunting the creatures on the
planet below, with no small amount of pleasure. Even though her beliefs
dictated that life must be preserved whenever possible, T'Pei recognized
that for the safety of the away teams, and the people trapped on the
surface, it might become necessary and appropriate to kill one or more
of the creatures. What unsettled her was the possibility that this man
might use the knowledge she had gathered to kill for sport, or revenge.

Krieghoff appeared to have finished his cursory look over of the
material, and looked up expectantly. "Care to translate, Lieutenant?"

"All of my necropsy findings are contained in that PADD. However, you
made several particular inquiries on which I can speak in some detail
now." She launched right in, without waiting for Krieghoff's reply. "The
diameter of their pupil is large enough to receive wavelengths far
larger than those of most humanoids, suggesting that their visible
spectrum may range into the infra-red. Their vision will be especially
acute in low light situations."

"So they'll have night vision, be able to see in the dark?" That would
make things... interesting, Victor thought.

"Precisely. Their hearing is also exceptionally acute. Both of these
traits are common in nocturnal animals. However, with three confirmed
contacts during daylight hours, they are most likely diurnal, hunting
primarily at twilight." T'Pei noticed Krieghoff's eyes narrow at the
word hunting.

"Conversely, very few cells are dedicated towards smell. This is not
unusual in larger predatory species, and may also relate to the fact
that they themselves have a strong sulfurous odor, due to the large
concentration of silane derivatives in their skin and respiratory
by-products."

"Silane derivatives in their skin and respiratory...." Victor frowned.
"They have bad breath?" He looked at the figures T'Pei was showing him.
"No, with that kind of concentration they have *very* bad breath." He
nodded; they'd be able to see him after dark but not smell him - not a
bad tradeoff.

"With regards to methods of attack," T'Pei continued, "they lack flat
grinding teeth, and their other teeth are much too long to be efficient
for tearing food into small pieces. This suggests that they swallow
large chunks of their food whole. The jaw structure supports this
assertion. The two halves are not rigidly attached to each other, and
can be controlled independently. Slicing the ligaments at the base of
the skull will reduce their jaw control." T'Pei looked gravely at the
Security Chief, unsure how he would respond to her next statement.
"Based on the results of Crewman Upchurch's autopsy, they use their jaw
to incapacitate larger prey, holding it down while using their claws for
evisceration."

"Not uncommon in predator species," Victor observed. "In fact, more
common than not. Most species can gain much greater leverage and
subsequent force with their locomotive or manipulator limbs than with
their jaws. There are some that do, but they tend to be either aquatic
or limbless." He glanced at T'Pei. "All of which you know, of course."

"Related to their 'bad breath'," she continued without responding, "I
believe I have determined why the creature that ate Ensign Saiyk died.
This creature's biochemical makeup is organosilicate in nature. Silicon,
while less reactive than Carbon in general, does react with certain
Copper-based compounds. One of these reactions appears to have proven
fatal. Through numerous tests with samples of Vulcan blood, I have
narrowed the possibilities to two, with the first, noted here," she
pointed to the relevant section of the PADD, "being the most likely."

"Interesting," Victor agreed, "if regrettable. Perhaps if they could
smell more efficiently, they'd know to shy away from members of the crew
that shared the chemical composition that proved fatal." He frowned
again, thinking of a crewman in particular whose safety might be
enhanced if the creatures could smell her.

"It is perhaps worth noting," the Vulcan offered, "that it would be
fatal for a Vulcan or Romulan to ingest even small quantities of this
animal's blood or tissue. However, I believe I can safely say that this
is an unlikely concern for a Vulcan crewmember."

"What about a Romulan crewman?"

"Perhaps," T'Pei demurred, carefully maintaining a neutral expression.
"One never knows what a Romulan might put in their mouth."

Victor glanced up, trying to determine if that had been a joke, or
Vulcan literality - the difference was hard to see at times. "What about
someone that was only partially Vulcan?" he countered quietly.

"They would face the same difficulties." T'Pei answered, any humor that
might have been in her voice gone. "I presume you have someone
particular in mind."

"Lieutenant Hunter," he confirmed with a nod.

"She was the first to disappear. Have you considered the possibility
that she might-"

"No," Victor said with a finality that even a Vulcan could not find room
to question. "She's alive. I had brief mental contact with her..." he
checked the time "...seventy-five minutes ago."

Stunned into silence, T'Pei just stared at him. That should be
impossible, unless... "You have melded with her," she stated coolly.

"Yes," he affirmed. "During the Diparthu Incident. She was possessed by
two of the entities, and I agreed to a meld in exchange for the lives of
a room full of children. I destroyed one of the Diparthu - the weaker of
them - during the meld, and then she and I together managed to drive the
second, more powerful one, out of our combined minds by demonstrating
that we were both willing to die if that was necessary to either destroy
her or force her to retreat."

"Even given that, communication over such an extreme distance is rare."
'I underestimated her abilities,' T'Pei thought. "Were you able to
communicate back to her?"

Victor nodded. "I believe so, although I could not be certain. Her
message was a cry for help, with emotional subtexts of imminent danger,
despair, and fear. I responded with a message that I had heard her, and
told her that she didn't have permission to die. The contact was broken
before I could be certain that she received the message."

'If we had melded, I could contact her.' This thought had occurred to
T'Pei repeatedly over the past two days, but this new evidence of the
other woman's mental powers made it even clearer now. The thought was
not regretful; she felt no actual guilt, merely a growing awareness that
things had not gone as they should have with her student.

Krieghoff's voice jerked the Vulcan woman out of her thoughts. "She'll
be there waiting for us when we go after them, Lieutenant. She's far too
stubborn to not be. Now, what else did you find?

"Something which is quite relevant to the rescue attempt, actually, "
T'Pei responded. "The organo-silicate biochemical makeup I mentioned
previously suggests that the creatures are not indigenous to this
planet. Their genetic structure contains thymine, which confirms this
hypothesis, and should render them vulnerable to dimensional
realignment. However, Lieutenant Kara'nin and I have identified a field
of terrion particles which protects them from this. This is the same
field which proves to be impenetrable to our phaser fire."

"Natural shielding," Victor sighed. "That explains what happened to
Commander Smith. How extensive is it? Are they essentially impenetrable
to phaser fire?"

"Unlikely. Sustained phaser fire should erode the shield, leaving them
vulnerable to both further attack and to dimensional realignment." T'Pei
flicked her fingers and displayed another series of graphs on the PADD.
"As I outline here."

Victor looked at the figures and shook his head. "The kind of sustained
fire required means a group of them will be all over you before you
damage one's shielding enough to injure or kill it, unless..." He
examined the graphs closer. "No, the settings required to overload them
in one go are too high - nothing that could be safely used in near
contact, or with allies in the area. You'd fry your companions or kill
yourself with the backlash from discharge." He glanced at T'Pei. "Do the
shields appear to be weaker against any specific frequencies?"

"Phasers set to their highest setting will have the highest probability
of success," she answered, before returning to the previous topic. "This
field - Cutter believes that terrion patches could be used by an away
team to serve a similar function. They would allow us to return to the
planet's surface. However, we do not know how humanoid physiology will
respond. Furthermore, the patches may not prevent dimensional
realignment entirely."
"So we'll be what, stuck there in the doorway?"

"In layman's terms, the away teams will most likely be between
dimensions, yes."

"Is it possible to program a shield generator like the ones in the
Hazard Team uniforms to duplicate this effect?" he asked after a moment.
"If not as a primary method of transition, then as a back-up?"

"In theory, if this generator projected a current of terrion particles
which was evenly generated around the entire body, then yes, it would be
possible." She evaluated the idea for a long moment, and then nodded.
"Yes, once Cutter's team has generated the terrion patches, they may be
able to construct something like this as well."

"Good - I'll speak to Cutter as soon as they're done with the patches,
then," Victor nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant - I appreciate the hard
work on short notice."

T'Pei stood. "I must return. I will endeavor to ascertain what impact
the combination of terrion and tau particles will have on human
physiology." She gestured at her report, no more settled with the idea
of Krieghoff having it than she had been an hour before. "I trust that
this will be used responsibly, Lieutenant, rather than for the sole
purpose of ending another life."

Victor looked at her for a moment, his face as impassive as any
Vulcan's. "I don't kill without reason or reasons, Lieutenant. Whether
or not anyone else understands what my reasons are, or even believes
that they exist, they're always there. Since you expressed concern, I'll
be glad to tell you what they are on this occasion, although I don't
normally do so." He met her gaze. "If I kill one or more of these
creatures, it will be to defend one of the crew... or to ensure that the
creatures do not interfere with the rescue process. I'm not here to hunt
for personal pleasure, or to kill for revenge. I've done both before,
and will again - but not today."

The human was quite perplexing. T'Pei looked at him seriously, making a
mental note to find out everything she could about him. "I did not
question that you would have a reason," she corrected. "What I
questioned was whether or not this reasons were themselves reasonable."

"Reasonability is in the eye of the beholder, Lieutenant," Victor
replied with a slight smile. "What do your eyes tell you about my
reasons today? Are they... reasonable?"

"Yes. For today," she answered, and disappeared out the door.

Technical Dificulties

Valentina "Eve" Kyznetsova - Intel Officer
Victory - Nurse
Artemis Bancroft - Starfighter Corps Cadet

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

Valentina looked about as the transporter released her, basking in the
heat of the sun. Life: it was everywhere, in everything one saw! She
gazed in wonder at this vibrant world, leaving her eyes in visible
light only as if to more fully grasp the amazing setting that stood
before them. The sun shining through the canopy above, the colors of
the wildlife, the sounds of Mother Nature at work on this world. It
was beautiful, a perfect setting marred only by the wreckage that lay
ahead.

They had been dropped just outside the spherical main hull of the
crashed starship, on the nearest level patch of ground. Other teams
could be seen aproaching the engineering module, choosing their entry
points carefully.

Victory swept her gaze about the landscape after the transporter beam
had faded away. It was good to have a chance to get off of the ship
once and a while. The warm sun and scents of an alien world pervading
the air..something the holodeck just could not replicate correctly.
She stepped over to the other members of the team. She was unfamiliar
with the both of them, just knowing their jobs. One a pilot from the
Galaxie's fighter wing. The other an Intelligence officer. In the back
of her mind she wished she had been assigned to Max's team, but it
would have been redundant to have more than one medic per each of the
small teams.

Artemis Bancroft had been through a transporter before. She'd seen
some things that few her age had ever seen before. However, it
couldn't be denied that this was the first time she'd ever been
included in an Away Team mission. The fact that it gave her a brief
break from the grueling training and test-taking as a Flight Cadet was
a bonus. She stood apart from the others, just staring at whatever she
could find that seemed like it needed to be stared at. The ship, the
other members of the team, the ground, the sky. It was all amazing!
Because she'd always wanted to, she slipped the tricorder from her
belt, flipped it open, and took a scan. She grinned as the device
warbled and collected information. Thankfully, her time on the
Solstice and as an Ops cadet had given her enough experience to
understand what the tricorder's display was now telling her: there's a
freaking humongous ship crashed right in front of you, stupid! Of
course, the tricorder had compiled the information in a more...tactful
manner. Closing the device, Artemis moves over toward the others.

Victory swept her eyes about the crashsite as she casually followed
the others. Really she did not need the tricorder that rest humming
anc chirping in her hand as she cycled through the visual spectrum.
She wasnt looking for survivors, there would be none. Really a Nurse
was not needed on the away team unless someone got hurt, which is
officially why she was there, but unless that happened she was going
to enjoy the time off the ship and help out with something different
and exciting.

As she cycled her optics she swept her gaze past the Intelligence
officer and almost did a double take as her eyes were in an x-ray like
mode. She froze, her eyes locked on the woman's arms and legs among
other smaller implants she could detect. If it were not for the
automatic takeover of her balance system she would have fallen over.

"Primogenitor technology...." She muttered so softly no one else could
hear her. She started stepping twords the Intell type, almost
automatically. There was no one else she could think of that would
have Primogenitor technology in their body.

She stepped right up to the woman and placed a hand gently on her
shoulder. "Eve?" she asked, softly, in Primogenitor

Val turned sharply to regard the nurse, her own occular implants
racing through the various sensory selections available as she
compiled information on just WHAT was standing next to her. Fully
synthetic body, organic type control system dominated by a humanoid
based CNS, overworked micro-fusion power supply cells. Overall a poor
design, though obviously outstripping anything the federation could
come up with in current times. Quite rugged and durable, if the dent
in her sternum was any indication.

"Conversation for a later date," she muttered softly, also in
Primogenitor; she specifically utilized the High Toung to further
color the nesecity of the phrase.

"But one we should have soon," Victory whispered, in Federation
Standard this time. She took a half step away from Val, letting her
hand slip off the womans shoulder.

* * *

Some time had passed since Victory had found out what and who
Valentina was and despite her best attempts to keep her mind on her
task at hand she could not stop thinking about wanting to go over and
talk to the other woman, find out everything she could about the only
other person in the universe that was remotely like she was. There
were oh so many questions she wanted to ask and she knew Valentina
must have had just as many for her.

Pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose Victory tried again
to focus her attention on her tricorder. There really was nothing out
here for her to be interested in. Not even the plantlife was anything
that nifty to look at. Sighing, the nurse folded her tricorder closed
and returned it to it's spot on her belt as she took a few steps over
to a large chunk of debre from the crashed starships cylindrical main
hull. Placing her hand on the smooth pale metal she closed her eyes
and tried to clear her mind.

That's when she felt it. Almost a pop deep down inside, than a
flicker. Her eyes snapped open but everything was black. Than another
flicker and her vision returned.

"What was that?" she said and looked around. No one was within sight
as she leaned against the chunk of starship. Taking a moment, she
cheked to see if there was any external damage...nothing...than the
flicker again. Vision dark, this time motor systems stopped responding
for a mere moment. Than everything snapped back on. Quickly she
accessed her internal diagnostic systems and began checking over her
internal components....they all seemed to be working..

Valentina, meanwhile, had been having issues of her own. Flashes and
snippet of the oddest sorts passed in an out of her vision at
completly odd and random instances. The after-image of people
walking, as if seen through a reversed polarity spectrum. The oddest
part of it was, she only saw these things when her optics were viewing
visual light.

"Thats not right" she frowned and tapped her commbadge. "Victory to
Valentina, I think I need to go back up to the ship"

Val glanced to her left, noting victory a scant dozen or so meters
away. Close enough to maintain visual contact, yet far enough to make
using the combadge easier to talk. "Acknowledged. Cadet Bancroft, our
adventure seems to be ending prematurely," Val said as she strode
towards the nurse. "Kyznetsova to Galaxy, three to beam up."

Victory glanced in Valentina's direction just as a wash of swirling
blue energy swept over her. The universe dissolved into a chaotic
storm of light, than re organized its self as the light faded away.
The transporter room surrounded them now, the three of them arranged
neatly on the transporter pad, the humm of the system powering down
filling the air.

The nurse let out a sigh and took several steps off the pad. "I'm
sorry to make everyone beam up. But something strange happened. I
don't know if it was a reaction to something on the planet or what"
she said as she turned to face Val. "I need to run some self
diagnostics to make sure everything is working ok"

Artemis looked confused and out of place as she stepped off the
transporter pad. She wasn't a medic, despite basic first aid training
from a few years ago. She also wasn't a scientist. She was a junior
operations officer turned starfighter cadet and well out of her
element at the moment. She looked between Victory and Eve, her
expression growing more worried. "Is there anything I can do to help?
I'm pretty good at waving a tricorder at things."

Valentina shook her head. "Sorry, but this is something that victory and I need to see a specialist for. Thankyou, though."

Seconds later the voice of Darius Slaughter boomed over the com. "Cadet Bancroft! Report t' tha' Flight Deck!" The line closed without further comment from the aged pilot, and Val looked at the cadet. "Well, sounds like you've got your own things to take care of now ... "

"In the Small"

---
Staff Technician Rheay Olin
Flight Crew Technician, Vanguard Group,
USS Galaxy-A

Bunch of trustworthy NPCs
---
===Hopper #24===

The pilot lovingly referred to 'her' as Pookie. In his defense, he
never was that straight of a man to begin with. His navigator and
co-pilot had done all that they could to keep themselves from kicking
his fruity ass all across the deckplates during the couple of months
they had been stationed together.

As Pookie narrowly veered pass the sullenly exploding carcass of
Hopper #43, both the navigator and co-pilot found themselves thankful
that they had managed to keep on the pilot's good side.

Somewhere behind the manically praying navigator was a large
collection of SFMC Marines and a much smaller bunch of SFFC grease
monkeys, most of whom looked beyond pale and rattled. As the metallic
coffin bounced, burped and staggered amidst the gradually out
branching graveyard of friendly and enemy corpses, be they made of
varied alloys and wiring or simple flesh and blood, the group of
people stuck within it grew increasingly more vocal and nervous. There
was just something about interstellar turbulence, mixed with
unfriendly fire and visions of collapsing starships that did not sit
right with the fine men and women present.

"Like a trip to the park my ass," Ra murmured painfully, the loopy
style of flying pressing her flat into her tight harness and making
her tiny frame shiver uncontrollably.
The reactions were different from person to person in the random
speckle of dust that the Hopper represented in the current battle.
Most people were just hanging onto their harness as if that would
compel it to keep them any safer, some were just dangling there,
puking their guts out and catching everybody in their near vicinity in
the wake. A few, or well, just one, was laughing like a maniac and
seeming to enjoy himself immensely ? Ra would have to have a talk with
Denovo about common courtesy if the invading forces or possible crash
would fail to solve the problem for her - and then there was a
handful of people who were just terrified beyond belief. Ra had no
shame in belonging to the latter group.

There wasn't really a lot of artistry being put into this fight, it
seemed. From what little view the portholes and Ra's current state of
mind allowed, it just looked like a giant fireworks show with
occasional shrapnel spinning through. But one thing was to be said ?
this was definitely more exciting than originally expected.
The small Betazoid instinctively closed her eyes as two fighters
collided into each other right off Pookie's port side, sending it into
another gut wrenching somersault towards the atmosphere of the lord
forsaken planet they were supposed to end up on.

Ra could barely tell the screaming from the howl of Pookie herself,
the two mixing into an unnerving cacophony as the Hopper rammed as
gracefully as a rock into a sheet of glass into the thermosphere and
continued downwards in equally as wild pace. There were probably some
encouraging yelps or suggestions to "Hold on!" but Ra couldn't really
discern them from the ringing in her ears. A couple of seconds later
the little tin can roared into the frozen ground below, shuddering and
growling furiously.

Aside from bounding about like a pony on a sugar rush and managing to
tip over during a rather prolonged case of belly sliding, the landing
was quite a buzz kill. The makeshift cargo area, stuffed full of
unnerved people, fell eerily silent for a moment, as if waiting for
the obvious whooshing fireball or some such. Ra wasn't sure if she
sensed a disappointment in the crowd at their lack of fiery deaths or
if it was just the smell of fresh vomit invading her nostrils.

It took a good twenty minutes for any kind of controlled movement to
get well on its way in Pookie. For most of that time, Ra had been
hanging upside down, looking like a forgotten rag doll amongst GI
Joes. It took the combined strength of the arm of one Trill Gunnery
Sergeant to catch her when she was unhooked and to set her down
gently. Ra just squinted with the tiniest bit of malice as Denovo's
giddy comment about eating something for a change sprang back in her
memory. She thanked the stocky Marine through gritted teeth, brushed a
few pebbles of dried vomit off her sleeve and stomped off towards the
emergency exit. Or in its general direction since she could barely see
an inch in front of herself in the thick suffocating smoke that
invaded the cabin from the burst boosters and burnt electrics.

The hatch opened upwards, brainchild of a tactical design flaw
intensified by the fact that Pookie was currently flat on her back. Ra
hoisted herself up with help from the hastily constructed ladder and
soon found herself standing on the Hopper's stomach, her heavy boots
barely making a noise as she ambled forward. The sensible folks that
had found their way out earlier were already fussing around the cargo
hatches, taking account of their gear and patching up a few little
sores and bruises. Ra, being nowhere near sensible, considered the
situation in the wafting grey haze, letting her gaze sweep across the
barren frozen wasteland that sprawled around their crash site. There
was a long deep ditch behind them, the Hopper's skimming trajectory,
still oozing warmth, but other than that the scene was painted in the
most uninspiring colors. Nothing but endless emptiness. Ra snorted
indignantly. They could have at least had the decency to tumble down
somewhere aesthetically pleasing.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Kebs waving at her amidst
the stock inspection group, but she paid no visible attention to him.
Instead she sighed and patted her pockets, looking for the smokes she
knew weren't there. She'd expected herself to have a bit more
gratitude towards the preservation of her life, but it seemed that at
the time a good cigarette outweighed the sanctity of existence.

This was so not how she had pictured spending her day off.

"Complications"

PO2 Benedict Maxwell
PO3 Victory

It was good to be back in sickbay. Getting off the ship to see some sights was always nice, but Victory had spent almost all of the life she remembered in space in one form or another. It felt more home to her than any planet would. Even when she had been on Earth during the Academy the place had felt forign.

Even the reason for the short end to her participation in the away mission had started to fade away. Her internal diagnostics had shown nothing and there had not been a repeat of the fluctuation in her power system. She would need to run some more detailed tests later, but for now she had pushed it out of her mind.

As she went about her duties sorting and organizing medical supplies and tending to those who came in for appointments or were there to be treated she could not help but think of the chances that Eve was on the same crew she was. After all the years she had searched for the other primogenitor abducted and modefied human, and after she had given up all hope of finding her, she was right here on the Galaxy. Sometimes the universe was not as big as everyone thought.

With her shift drawing to an end she started to think of what she wanted to do afterwords. Specifically she wanted to ask Max out to dinner. He had treated her to a nice lunch the last time they were together and she wanted to return in kind and make him something. Though she did not need to eat she loved to cook.

Humming to herself as she thought of what to make she went along her work, which led her into one of the medical store rooms to get a supply of hypospray vial's to ready for the next shift.

The six-foot tall Latina from Mars entered Sickbay, in uniform and with a flash of a smile on her face before she put on her 'business' face. She purposely volunteered to work a Gamma-Delta double shift as staff got moved around to cover the TDY assignments to the surface. But it wasn't to help out the department and her agenda was about to unfold.

"Hello, Victory," Arelis Moreno greeted as she walked into the very same store room the Cyborg was in. "How are you?"

"Hello!" Victory replied, smiling as she looked up from a crate at the newcomer. "I"m fine, thanks...um..your Arelis Moreno from gamma shift right?" she asked. "I don't think I've had a chance to meet you yet" her voice was cheerfull and friendly as she set a few containers of empty hypospray vials on the small cart she had brought in with her.

He turned me down for this?? thought Arelis acidly while maintaining the Hollywood Plastic Smile she had perfected in her days as a high school stage actress. "Yes, I'm actually from Delta shift, but for the next couple of days I'm working the Gamma-Delta double to help out." She surveyed the much shorter redhead with the funny eyes. He HAD to have hit his head during that rescue mission he was a part of, she finally reasoned with herself. Her psyche wouldn't...no, couldn't allow her to believe that Max would have left her for the Tin Girl, as Victory has recently been dubbed...courtesy of Arelis, of course.

"That's nice of you" Victory said pleasently as she moved over a few more containers of vial's to the cart. "Not that we're overly short handed this shift, but it's nice to have the extra help" she smiled at the taller woman.

"Uh, huh," Moreno replied absentmindedly. She decided to dispense with the small talk and go straight for the meat and potatoes. "So, everyone is just buzzing about you and Max kissing in the elevator a couple of days ago." A well placed hand on the chest with a well practiced and oft used soft exhale accentuated the dramatic flair that she was adding to her statement. "So much passion...Mmmm..." She closed her eyes, as if in a trance.

Victory's face reddened, artificial components responding to the emotion produced by her brain simulating the proper blush of her cheeks. "Oh, I, um, I didn't think people would be talking about that" she said hesitently.

"Oh, no need to be embarrassed," she giggled. Then Arelis began the kill. "I mean he and I used to do so much more than that in so many different places. I mean one time on the Miranda, I fucked his brains out on the holodeck-"

"Why are you telling me this?!" Victory asked, notes of confusion tugging at her voice. "I don't need to know about what he did with people in the past" she took a step back from Arelis, unsure what to make of the woman who had just a moment ago been so friendly.

"Well, no need to get so sensitive about it," Arelis pouted as she placed her hands lightly on Victory's shoulders, looking the shorter woman in the eyes. "And besides," she added, her tone losing some of it's friendliness, "maybe you should think about who you're swapping spit with."

"What does it matter to you?" replied Victory, backing away form the woman again, not wanting Arelis to tough her, "And why shouldn't I get sensative about it? Your the one trying to upset me. Why are you doing this?"

A short laugh escaped Arelis as she continued. "I mean, you didn't know that on the very night you had your magic moment with him, the JAG followed him to his quarters...and didn't come out for quite some time."

"What?" the nurse almost froze. "No, you are making it up!"

Now for the kill, Arelis almost jumped with glee at the thought. "And the next night, they were together. All. Night. Long."

She had to be making it up. "No, your wrong!" Victory said, her voice shaky. "Why are you doing this to me? How can you be so cruel to someone you don't know?!"

"Nina, I'm doing you a favor," she told Victory. "Sometimes reality is cruel...but I think you'll thank me later for this. Oops," Arelis said, a finger on her lower lip, which like her upper lip was peach colored and glossy. "Looks like your shift is over. I'll take it from here."

"How can this be a favor?" Victory managed, her face pale and looking if she were waffling between a mixture of horror and rage. Deep down something was waking up, the sudden emotional shift getting past a mental barrier and getting down to deeply repressed base program. She clinched her fists and gritted her teeth, thoughs of violent retaliation against Arelis for her cuelty. Victory fought back those thoughs no matter how much Arelis's words stung and how much she suddenly wanted to.

"Trust me...you'll thank me later, Mamacita." And with that, Arelis moved on to her tasks for the evening.

"Leave me alone!" Victory yelped as she pushed past Arelis, bolting from the storage compartment and out into the corridor. She had to find Max and tell him what had happened. It was all a lie, had to be and he would tell her that. She knew it.

A very dark and sinister smile crossed the Latina's features for the briefest of moments, then she was all business again. Hell hath no fury, Puto, Arelis seethed silently.

* * *

Knowing he would be in his quarters this time of day Victory had rushed off to them. She had to see him and get confirmation that everything Arelis had said was a lie. Even so she seemed to be shaking all over and felt waves of anxiety and fear wash over her as she stumbled into a turbolift and ordered it to his deck and section. Putting her back to the lift car wall she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was so utterly shocked and enraged by what that Arelis woman had spouted off about Max being with some other person...the JAG...and with her sometime before...stuff that could not be true.. that she had almost let her old base program resurface...it felt so comfortable and inviting in the back of her mind but she had fought it back, pushed it away to its little dark corner.

Resting her head in her hands she took a few more deep breaths. What that woman had said had cut deep. She had not been expecting it...and had not understood why she had said such things and been so cruel...Another breath...the lift stopped, arriving at the destination. Victory bolted out into the corridore and was soon at the door to his quarters. She tapped the door chime button.

"Max, are you there? I need to see you" she said trying to contain the distraught nature of her emotions at that moment.

The door slid open to reveal a bleary eyed Max, clad in blue bunny slippers and a 'Scrooge' sleeping gown. "Hey, Vic," he greeted. "What's up?"

"Max, someone in sickbay told me some things and I need to know they arn't true" Victory said, looking rather upset.

Still in a fog, Max absently replied, "Yeah sure, what things?"

"Um" Victory glanced about. " Can I come in. I don't want to talk where everyone can evesdrop"

"Oh, yeah, of course," the still sleepy Medic yawned as he stepped aside and gestured her into his quarters. He was so sleep deprived that he had to be ordered off duty for at least two shifts. "So what's this about," Max asked.

She wrapped her arms about herself as the door slid shut and took a few quick breaths. "Arelis Moreno confronted me in the medical storage bay a few minutes ago." Victory started, forcing herself to keep calm. "She...she told me things..told me you two had been together on the Miranda, told me what you two had done...I dont know why ...than she she" Victory took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. "She told me the JAG was here spending the night...that she stayed over the same night we went out on our lunch date...and another time after that"

The nurse squeezed her arms about herself, she was trembling. "Why would she tell me stuff like tha? It can't be true right, Max?" Victory asked, almost pleading. "She's making it up out of spite or something, isnt she?" she looked into his eyes hoping for confirmation

The feeling Max felt when he was only a bit more than an arm's length from that predator on the planet earlier paled in comparison to what he felt at that very moment. Whereas he felt stark fear on the surface, in his quarters with a woman he did indeed care deeply for...he felt sudden panic. He couldn't, no wouldn't speak for quite some time. And he was certain that Victory's eyes took on a glaring feel the longer he remained silent.

"Max? ....." she looked at him, the long time it was taking for him to respond sent waves of sudden and sickening uncertenty rushing through her mind. "....It isn't true....right?" she almost whispered, something in the back of her mind already signalling that it was all true....

He finally let his head fall in shame, stammering, "I-I'm sorry, Vic-"

If there had been any of her human body left her heart would have broken at that moment. Her artificial nervous system did wonders accurartly reproducing the proper sensations though. Chills ran down her spine and a sick feeling welled up in the stomach she did not have. The expression on her face shifted from worry and confusion to that one a pain as she stepped back, banging into the wall. "Why?..." she muttered, her voice broken. "How could you do this to me?" her lips quivvered as she spoke, her eyes wide. "I...I thought there was something special between us...or could have been...why were you seeing someone else and me?...." She wanted to cry, the feeling welled up deep inside her, but she could not. She had no tear ducts and wasnt even able to have that one human comfort.

She looked into his eyes, her artifical eyes glowing crimson in the dim light of the cabin. "How could you see someone else the same evening after we went on our date?!" she sobbed, her voice so full of pain...anger...

The ferocity and anguish in her voice made Max take a step back, not wanting to do or say anything else that might set her off. He hadn't forgotten that she could make mince meat out of him in less than ten seconds if she were so inclined.

"Am I not real enough for you?!" she took a step twords him, sudden rage washing over her. "Didn't like the limitations of being with a someone with a synthetic body and found yourself someone with a biological one to provide what I can't?!" she yelled and turned away from him, covering her face with her hands. "I... I... I thought....you cared for me..." she stammered and couldnt speak anymore as the tearless sobbs took over.

"Nothing...happened..." Max tried to get out, but his throat suddenly felt constricted, his own emotions choking back anything else he could have said. The Little Good Guy shook it's head at Max, telling him, "You screwed up, brother." The Little Bad Dude was clapping its hands and proclaimed that Max was a 'Sucker'.

For his own part, Max's eyes welled with tears, enough for both himself and Victory. He did indeed screw up, and he was certainly a sucker for allowing things to turn out the way he did. "I.......I...." he tried again, but failed to produce any more words.

"What do you mean nothing happened?!" Victory spun around, a mixture of rage and anguish in her voice. She was so angry he had hurt her so much, and so hurt by what he had done. "She stayed the night in your quarters twice at least! On the same day that we went out!" she both wanted answers form him and wanted to run away and bury herself somewhere dark and away from prying eyes and let her grief consume her.

"Just tell me why...." she managed after a long moment.

"I screwed up," he finally got out, "but...but nothing happened."

"How am I supposed to...trust you?" Victory muttered, seeing the tears on Max's face just making what she felt that much worse. She took a step back and wanted to look away, she couldn't take seeing the pain on his face, but kept her eyes fixed on his.

True enough, nothing actually happened between Ophelia and himself. The closest they've gotten other than a kiss was sleeping together in bed...platonically. In fact, he wasn't sure what was going on between them. To Victory, he could only reply, "I can't make you trust me. I can only ask you to."

She watched him for a moment, breathing quickly. "Than I need you to tell me something... Is there something happening between us?" she said. "I need to know because all I know right now is what I feel...and I have feelings for you. But I don't know if I should act on them anymore....I can't and won't if your don't have the same feelings for me or are going to be with someone else" she looked down at the floor, her arms hanging loose at her sides as she tried miserably to compose herself.

In this rare moment in his life, Ben Maxwell did not know what he wanted. But he knew the right answer to give. The only answer he could give at this point. "I ..." he started, then stopped and took a deep breath. "I need time to figure that out...to make the right choice."

"I see..." Victory said quietly, "Are you going to tell her?" she asked a moment later, her eyes still on the floor. "The other one...?" she looked up at Max. Even though her eyes were fake optical sensors they still conveyed all the pain and anger that was boiling inside her.

"Yes, Yes I will," he replied.

Victory nodded slowly, than looked up at him. "I don't think I should be here right now..." she muttered and turned for the door.

Max didn't try to stop her. He completely understood how she felt, and knew he was completely in the wrong in this situation. And Victory didn't deserve that... No way in hell did she deserve that, he thought bitterly to himself. Aloud, Max said, "I'm gonna make this right, Vic."

She paused, turning halfway to look back at Max. Part of her wanted to say something, anything...but the rest of her didn't know what to say or even think about him at this moment. So much turmoil and pain showed on her face when she looked back at him. There would have been tears rolling down her cheeks of it were possible. Without a word she turned away and walked out the door. She paused as the door hissed closed behind her, staring blankly at the bulkhead on the other side. Her legs felt heavy as she stood there, almost she wanted to turn around, but she knew the instant she went back in it would hurt her. As it was the memory of the look on Max's face a moment earlier cut deep. She could see the pain in his eyes as much as she felt her own.

Than she was running. Running down the corridor, running away, running to somewhere she could be away from the universe, anywhere as she sobbed without any tears.

Back in his quarters, Max somehow found his way to the cubbyhole where he keeps his comfort tools. A moment later, he was sitting on his couch with a lit Djarum in between his right index and middle fingers, and a glass of saurian brandy. And then he cried...

"Disturbia - Part Two"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG

Location: Ophelia's Office

====================
"Smoking is not permitted......" The computer droned ominously as another smoke ring danced towards the illuminated ceiling.

"Stuff it." Zamora muttered as she leaned back into her chair. Her head dropped back over the end of the stiff office chair with her long dark hair hanging loosely around the leather fabric that sloped downward to her seat. Drifting upwards, her haunting eyes found themselves counting tiles above. She swiveled the chair one hundred and eight degrees with her feet, yet her bloodshot eyes cemented their gaze on the tiles.

Various thoughts swirled through her head. Would she be caught and tried for her involvement with Faylin? Who cared at this point in time? Who cared ever? The mass desire to capture the woman and bring her to the term of justice that Ophelia knew was more important than anything. It was more important than her bodyguard, more important than Max, more important than her duties, and sadly more important than her own son. Revenge became her. McAlister would be so proud at her creation. A few words and pictures then poof! The once timid attorney had morphed into a beast that any serial killer would take pride in.

Her mouth opened slightly, drying out the already desert type lips that were once full and plump.

'Would the taste of the kill be enough?' Ophelia thought as she swiveled again. The woman longed to answer that question, Starfleet regulations be damned.

Zamora stood; walking over to a small port window that permitted her a bleak view of white stars glittered against a black background. McAlister was out there, somewhere.

==============================
Planet 128

She sat in the corner, in a rusty chair silently observing those around her. Many, if not all had experienced some sort of 'trauma' that affected them in a mental fashion. Nuts, pure and simple. Tucking her legs up under her, she rested her chin on her knees. Her eyes had changed and stayed golden. She hurt still, now more than ever Faylin knew that something was happening to her physically. The assassin was dying.

Blood leaked from the corners of her eyes almost consistently. Tucked away in the corner with crimson fluid flowing she felt as evil as she appeared.

Leonard approached her without caution.

"Hi."

"Hello." McAlister managed to whisper.

"You look like a concrete angel." He smiled a smile short of a few teeth and shuffled off to where he came from.

Fay turned her attention to a window framed in white wood. The right corner of the window had a long crack. Her eyes followed. As her vision turned red, she extracted the cloth from her side and dabbed her eyes. Blinking three times, the red color cleared. The small cloth would have to be replaced soon, for it felt wet to the touch. Uncurling herself, she stood and falsely limped over to the view of the bright stars glittered against a black background. Somewhere, Zamora was out there.

It was time to end this, one way or another. Scanning the room, her eyes fell upon a mediocre guard. Starfleet security.

Her steps weak, but with purpose, Faylin came to stand before the guard.

He regarded her dishelmed appearance for a moment before smirking a question.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

She sighed. Idiots would always be idiots. "My name is Faylin McAlister. I'm really wanted by Starfleet."

He grinned. "Sure you are little lady.....now go on."

McAlister rolled her eyes before darting to the side of him. Extracting the phaser from his hip, she easily held it up to his head as a nearby nurse screamed.

"Believe me now?" She whispered in his ear as she squeezed the trigger with joyful abandonment. The phaser raised slowly as the body slumped wonderfully to the floor, Faylin's golden eyes emitted a glow that was difficult to describe. Wetting her lips, her eyes rolled around the enclosed area. That sense of pure panic was in the air as Death entered the room in mass form.

"Daughter of Rebbise, part 1"

Ensign Relsta

Waking up had clearly been a bad idea. Relsta mentally vowed not to do that again in the near future. Even if it meant dying before bedtime.

The front side of her body felt fine, but her back side was an unholy mess of pain. Her rear hurt from falling through the tree, her hamstrings hurt from the long hike through the woods, and now the back of her head felt like someone had taken a rock to it.

She wasn't totally sure, but that last bit might have actually happened.

She had been in the cave, and the rain...she had been hiding from the rain. But what had happened next? All she could remember was hearing a noise, and now here she was, hoping that opening her eyes would be enough of a sensory overload to make her pass out again.

No such luck. Fighting the urge to throw up, Relsta gingerly moved her fingers and toes, coming to two conclusions: First, nothing was broken. Second, she was definitely going to throw up, right now.

'One of these days, I need to go on an away mission where I don't end up unconscious,' she decided as she stared at the remains of the last meal she had eaten before leaving the ship.

Feeling a little bit better, the tall Denobulan tackled the ambitious task of turning her head, very slowly, to take stock of her situation.

She was on her side, lying on hard packed dirt. Someone had covered her in a blanket that, judging from its general state, was now home to more lively things than synthetic fibers. Mustering the energy to shift the thriving mini-ecosystem off of her, Relsta saw that she was inside some sort of cramped wooden structure whose haphazard construction made her glad it wasn't still raining. The thing might not still be standing if it were.

"Wake, wake!"

The hissed command drew Relsta's attention to the door, where a human woman crouched tentatively on all fours, staring at her with wide, bloodshot eyes. She was dressed in bare scraps of fabric, with sagging breasts that bore ancient healed claw marks from someone's attention—wanted or unwanted, Relsta wasn't sure.

Maybe this was the one who had attacked her. 'It's not possible', her brain insisted. 'There isn't anyone on this planet. We checked!'

The woman inched towards her, half dragging herself forward. Spotting the mess, she blanched, and was immediately by Relsta's side, cleaning the vomit with her own clothing.

That wasn't the way a captor acted.

Finished wiping up as much as her garb would absorb, the woman glanced warily back at the shelter's opening, and then turned back to Relsta, her expression almost...hopeful. "Chane now", she whispered urgently.

She reached an arm out towards Relsta's face, and the Denobulan jerked back. She immediately regretted the action as splitting pain shot through the back of her head, and as the other woman flinched like a dog who had been beaten. She dropped down into a huddled mass in front of Relsta, curled into a tight ball.

The woman glanced up with one eye, half hidden by matted, filthy hair. "I sorry, Rebbise-Da " she said mournfully.

Relsta was floored. She was being apologized to? By someone who had knocked her out?

She didn't get a chance to ponder the odd turn of events because two men, clad in tatters, rushed in. Seeing the woman with Relsta, they growled and leapt forward. Within moments, they had gripped the woman by her arms and were dragging her away as she shrieked, "I touch onee, Kranas-sur! No hurt!" At this, one man dropped his grip and struck her across her face. "No touch Rebbise-Da!" The woman was still crying and thrashing as they dragged her through the doorway.

"Make It Happen"

Lt. Victor Krieghoff
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Lt. Chris Daniels
PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell
Major Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
FO Anthony "Flex" Dahl (APC - Aet)
Pilot Elrin "Vixen" Kit'ari (APC - Michael)
Ensign T'risia
Lt. JG T'Pei
Ensign Aina Mason
Lt (JG) Valentina Kyznetsova

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Conference Room 2

Victor had done briefings before, but they'd all been small ones, tactical statements about who to shoot and how, and who to save and how – nothing like the one he was about to give. Chulak had done thousands of them, though, and so it was the part of him that had been Chulak and had lived his life that Victor had allowed to plan the briefing. It might not sound like what people expected Victor to say, but then most people never knew what he was going to say – just what they *didn't* want him to say - so that was all right.

As the people he'd summoned started to trickle in, he checked the LCARS screen at his end of the conference room table to make sure the connection to the larger screen behind him on the wall was live, and then took a step back to maximize the amount of room at the table for the attendees without having his 'aura' distract them.

Max was the first to arrive, immediately making a physical effort to block out Krieghoff as he walked in. He nodded out of respect to the Security chief, and quickly found a seat as far away as possible.

Flex slunk through the passage in his usual lumbering fashion, not the first to arrive, and barely not the last one either. He gave a short nod towards Krieghoff, a man he, unlike most of the crew, had no strong feelings towards or against. Even with all the hovering horror stories and his overly pretentious aura of awesomeness, Dahl was yet to have a bigger run-in with the respected dude to have formed an opinion other than 'meh'.

The tall pilot rolled his shoulders back as he glanced quickly at the assembled beings in the room, smirking mildly at the visage of Cowboy planted in one of the seats . Apparently he was not the only one of the SFFC jockeys who was bored out of his mind. Dahl calmly made his way over to Cowboy and slithered into the seat next to him, giving his CO a mock salute in the process. Sure, the situation was all dire and awful and crap but as far as any regular pilot was considered it was just needed to break the lull.

The vulpine Elrin wasn't far behind and promptly sat down on the other side of his group commander. It was at that point he looked up at Victor. He'd heard stories about the lieutenant and Elrin couldn't help but be a little unnerved about being in the same room as him. He'd said a prayer on his way up here and hopefully that would be enough to keep the Black Dog away. Hopefully...

Cowboy, who shockingly had been among the first to arrive, was leaning back in a chair with his hands folded behind his head. He greeted both Flex, his old friend from the Miranda, and Elrin with a nod, silently wondering if this rescue mission would actually need three pilots.

As the door swept open once more, the quiet, impassive Vulcan woman, T'risia, entered. Her attractive features were as emotionless as ever, and she was dressed in the black and gold of the security services division. The garment seemed almost to fit her badly, but it was more that it did not flow as she expected, being accustomed to the loose desert tunics of Vulcan. Her one accommodation to her eccentricities was her headband, a severe metal ensemble, adorned with a "Hello Kitty" badge.

Valentina was, surprisingly, the last memer to arrive. The woman was back in uniform, surprisingly enough. She had just come from a meeting with none other than the Captain herself, and there had een scant little time for her to make the transition through the ship to the noted briefing room. Her thoughts on this mission and the events that had unfolded since arriving were closely guarded, she seemed as impassive as any of the vulcan's present. Till she noticed Nathan, and cracked a small smile. The intel officer's seat, as the last arrival, had ended up by process of elimination to be one of the closest to Victor. If she suffered any ill effect from the proximity, she showed no outward signs.

Victor waited until the last arrival was seated, reached over to transmit the data packets to everyone's LCARS screen – and paused as a familiar, if slightly slurred, voice spoke up over his combadge.

=/\= Smith to Krieghoff. =/\=

Arel. Of course. Victor shook his head, and, with an apologetic shrug to the attendees, responded. =/\= Go ahead, Commander. =/\=

=/\= What the hell did you think you were doing scheduling this mission without inviting me? =/\=

=/\= Oh, I don't know, Commander, perhaps it was the surgery you got out of… eleven hours ago? You remember that, right? =/\=

=/\= If you think missing a tit is going to stop me from… =/\=

Victor interrupted her. =/\= No. Not just 'no, I don't think that' but also 'No, you're not going.' You're the most dangerous one-breasted woman in the quadrant, Commander, but you're going to sit there in Sickbay and recover from your surgery and injuries like the CMO ordered you to, or one of three things are going to happen, and you won't like any of them. = /\=

Arel's voice was equal parts suspicion and defiance. =/\= Yeah? What three things? =/\=

=/\= One, you'll try to get to the transporter room on your own and wind up screwing up all the doctor's hard work and have to go through all of it – and more - all over again, with the added thrill of being under restraints and a guard to keep you there. That's the best of the three, by the way. Two, you'll actually make it to the planetary surface, and wind up not being able to keep up and we'll get someone killed while we cover for you *and* you'll wind up in surgery again under restraints and a guard. Three… three you make it down there and *you* die, probably getting someone else killed to boot. After that one, I then have to kill your ass of a husband because he'll try to kill me for letting you die *and* then I wind up raising your son, because you gave him to me on Romulus . =/\=

There was a brief period of silence, then, quietly, =/\= You gave him back. =/\=

=/\= I lied. =/\= Victor returned.

=/\= Bastard. =/\= Arel spat.

=/\= Perhaps. But I'll be the bastard raising your son if you don't keep yourself in that bed. Are we clear, Commander? =/\=

=/\= I am so kicking your ass when I get out of this bed, Krieghoff! =/\=

=/\= You're certainly welcome to try, Commander. You might even do it this time – but not if you don't heal up first. Krieghoff out. =/\=

Victor turned to the assembled group and smiled pleasantly. "Two things to learn from that exchange, class," he said raising a finger. "One, that it's possible to get even your most irascible and intractable superior officers to do exactly what you want them to do, even when you lack the capacity to order them to do anything. And two," he raised a second finger, "the critical corollary, that you need to know your superior officers well enough to know what will work when you need to do that. Any questions?"

Elrin simply gave a nervous nod and made a note to himself to not be on the same deck as Commander Smith for the foreseeable future.

Nathan had covered his mouth during the exchange and fought to stave off his laughter throughout Arel's tirade. He finally managed to get himself under control and shook his head to Victor, leaning back in his chair again.

Impassively, T'risia put a note on the PADD she was carrying. She considered for a moment, and then raised a hand. When acknowledged, she asked in her cool, logical tones, "Is it logical to make such an example? As my own direct superior, I would think that you would wish for me not to have knowledge of such tools of manipulation." It seemed like a lapse, in Krieghoff's thus far relentless, although humanocentric logic.

"My job as a leader is to give you the tools you need to survive, grow, and succeed," Victor replied. "Shortchanging you on lessons because I don't want you to apply those tools on me is both defeating those goals and foolish to boot." He smiled quietly. "Besides, I won't always be your commanding officer."

He paused a moment, and, when no further comments were forthcoming, started, "All right then, here's the situation in brief: we have crewmen down on the planet that have, due to exposure to a particular variety and wavelength of energy, been phase-shifted out of state with the frequencies of matter on the planet. At this time, we're not certain whether the effect is manufactured or natural, although manufactured is looking more likely to me, since there's no sign that the effect is widespread across the planet. Regardless of the reason for their condition, we – that would be you and me – are going down there to get them back. Any questions on that?"

"I'm assuming that a means has already been devised to locate our people in this phased state?" Max asked.

"Yes," Cutter announced from his position near Victor. "There are, in fact, two theories that will be implemented. First, let me point out that this 'phasing' is really a shifting in to a different dimensional alignment. It is vastly more complicated than this, but you can think of it working like the way that our starships travel at warp speeds. When we go to warp, we partially submerge the ship into subspace. That is, we change the dimensions the ship's matter exists in. Because i t exists in both real space and subspace at the same time, movement in one will create an effect in the other. Both of the ideas for locating the missing crewmen essentially search for them by scanning for these effects. Lieutenant Daniels believes that we can use the ship board tactical scanners to search from orbit."

Chris had opted to lean against the wall during the conversation. His role in this briefing was, well, brief, and he wanted the more involved to get the table seats. Nevertheless, he shot a glance towards Cutter, pushed himself off the wall and addressed the crowd. "The ship's tactical scanners are designed to detect subspace wakes sized anything from a self regenerating mine on up. Right now as we speak we're retuning them to pick up the subspace ripples we expect the members of our crew to be making as they walk around. When it's operational, we can begin tracking them. No theories, no gimmicks, just a re-tasking of otherwise unused equipment. So long as they haven't killed the sensor techs, my people should have the re-tuning done in about 20 minutes."

"Alas, contrary to Lieutenant Daniel's expectations, his method is unlikely to work," Cutter continued after the tactical officer's explanation. "Our model, well, really, it's my model, suggests that the phasing is a gradual process. Once complete, the missing crewmen will exist entirely in the other dimensional alignment and will be impossible to detect, through any methods. During the phasing process, they will be detectable, although, the longer we wait, the more difficult it will be to detect them. I believe it is too late to detect them successfully from orbit, so I have had high-resolution scanners created from technology used in our labs," he said, lifting a device from the table to show the assembled crew. It was a fairly bulky piece of equipment. It had a large semi-spherical end, packed with smaller hexagonal chips, like an insect's eye, and back piece with an easily observable battery, processor and display screen, screwed and wired together. It looked like it was thrown together less than an hour ago. It was. "These scanners have much less range than orbital scanners, so we will have to go back down to the planet to use them."

Max didn't like the part about his shipmates being a permanent part of another dimension. "Have you figured out how much time the missing people have left," he asked. "If this process is gradual, we may not have much time."

"That depends on the person," Victor answered quietly. "We know that Lieutenant Hunter is alive thanks to a brief telepathic contact early this morning. We also know that Petty Officer Erik Tombs isn't. The rest… we're uncertain."

"Do I really want to know how you're so sure that PO Tombs is dead," Max asked, although due to his earlier experience with Krieghoff after the POW rescue, he already had an idea.

"The displacement effect is limited to biological matter," Victor replied, his voice as calm as a Vulcan ordering tea. "Tricorders, phasers, combadges, personal jewelry, and other, non-biological material doesn't make the transfer with an affected person to wherever it is our people are going. This includes Petty Officer Tomb's two artificial heart valves – they came back on the transporter pad when we tried to retrieve the rest of his gear after his combadge was the only initially retrieved object. Medical assures me that without them, he was gone within minutes."

Max nodded in grim agreement. He was aware of PO Tomb's condition after reviewing his file. No tricuspid and bicuspid valves equaled no regulation of blood flow and cardiac pressure, equals poor tissue/cardiac perfusion...which pretty much equaled death. It was quick...but very painful.

Flex scratched his chin idly, his attention span wavering at the first introduction of words over three syllables. People had 'phased out', gadgets had been contracted and Cutter was a pretentious ass, fully understood and comprehended. Now, if there would just be some getting while the getting was good and they could already do this thing and be out of this waste of time system, that would just be swell.

Cowboy nodded as he listened to Cutter and considered the sensors. "You think we might be able to hook 'em up to a fighter's sensor package? 'Cause Ah couldn't help but notice that we've got three pilots here," he said, pointing a thumb at both Flex and Elrin. "We could drop down into the atmosphere with those babies slapped on and cover a lot more ground in a lot less time."

The avian considered this for a moment. "Perhaps, although I would recommend against it. They've already been configured for hand held use. Remodifying them to integrate into shuttle or fighter systems, and writing the appropriate software to filter out effects of vessel movement and engine noise would take additional time that I do not believe we have."

"Regardless of how well mounting the modified sensors goes," Victor added in. "We have three reasons for the number of pilots here. One, we have at least one crewman on the ground that may not have been dimensionally realigned – Lt. Shivar, who may have been swept downriver from the exploration site - and we're going to have to search for him the old-fashioned way. Two, until Cutter has had the chance to examine someone that has been realigned and subsequently retrieved to make sure they're not carrying a molecular charge from wherever it is that they're currently at or something like that, we're not risking anyone in the transporters unless it's a critical emergency. And three, at this point in time, we have no idea how widespread our crewmen might have become since realignment, so three shuttles were chosen as the optimum number to split our group up in order to maximize coverage for finding and retrieving them all."

T'risia raised her hand again. When it was her time to speak, she asked, "I should point out that the rescue effort would be limited, if we could not find a way to prevent the phasing phenomenon. Since we are in fact convened to meet, I am making the assumption we have made progress with that problem. If that is in fact a solid assumption, how would that phase prevention, for lack of a better term, be performed?"

"These," Cutter said, tossing a stack of pin-on patches on the table. "Through Lieutenant T'Pei's research on the predators on the planet, we have learned that they, like us, and unlike other life on the planet, are vulnerable to phasing. They prevent phasing, however, due to natural armor composed of cells that circulate terrion particles. They create a field that at least partially neutralizes the cause of the dimensional realignment. These patches replicate that effect."

That was T'Pei's cue to chime in, from Cutter's left. "To the extent that the patches do function like the predators' natural shielding, it is almost certain that they will not prevent realignment entirely. As Lieutenant Kara'nin stated, it is a gradual process. You may not notice the effects for several hours, although those of you who spent time on the planet previously will be affected sooner."

"The creature's natural ability also," Victor spoke up, "serves to dissipate and deflect phaser blasts much like a starship's shields. You should be able to overload them, but that requires either a period of sustained low-level bombardment, or using the weapons on their highest settings – which is not recommended due to the dangers of backlash, and the effects on the environment and other crewmen in the vicinity. Since any encounter is likely to occur at close range, do both yourselves and your companions a favor and try flight before fight, all right?"

"For those of you on the Hazard Team," Victor added, "Cutter has come up with a module that will allow your Hazard Team Uniform's shield generators to duplicate the terrion particle effect. The downside, though, is that the normal shielding won't work while the terrion particle generator is active, and vice versa. Since there's not likely to be a lot of energy weapons fire to worry with, that shouldn't be a problem. See me after the meeting and I'll get one installed for you."

Once again, the Medic raised his hand and asked his question when he got the nod. "How do we actually rescue them?"

Cutter took the question with some discomfort. His muscles tensed and his large, white wings flexed behind him. He knew the question would come up, but at this point, they didn't have an answer. They didn't know enough, yet. In his mind, it was okay. This was the nature of science. This 'rescue attempt' was, to him, a data gathering expedition. Hopefully, he would learn enough to figure out the next piece of the puzzle. But, non-scientists were impatient. This explanation would likely anger the soldiers gathered here, but he couldn't lie, either. So, he simply responded, "I don't know."

Max shook his head at Cutter's response and said, "At least you're up front about it, Lou."

T'Pei caught Victor's eye, silently asking for permission to speak again. "While we do not yet know how to bring any crewmembers back from the other dimension, there may be a way to communicate with them, once they are located. This is…mere conjecture," the Vulcan admitted, "but, as you will, in effect, be between the two dimensions, it seems probable that you will be capable of speaking to the missing crewmembers, although success may decrease as the other individual's level of realignment increases."

T'risia raised her hand, in a lobby for T'Pei's attention. "Since we do not as yet have a method of reintegrating our crew entirely in this dimension, it is logical to assume that our initial objective would be to establish communications, and once that is done, have the missing crew congregate in a single location analogous to our universe, for the purposes of an as yet to be determined extraction method. If this is a faulty assertion, please correct me with whatever data I lack in my formulation of a schema for action." She lowered her piercing green eyes, showing that she was in fact done with her loquacious method of inquiry, and steepled her fingers before her, elbows on the table.

"That's correct," Victor nodded. "Locate, congregate, extract."

Aina put up her hand from the back of the room.

With a raised eyebrow, Victor looked at the ensign. "This isn't a classroom folks, despite my comment earlier; just speak up when you have a question."

"I've been thinking about the scanner ranges...ummm, it's pretty standard practice to cluster sensors and with interferometry protocols. If Lieutenant Kara'nin approves, with a simple tricorder hookup to the ship for each scanner we could extend the ranges."

Aina continued with a little more confidence as nobody had interrupted her, "A single unit can only analyze what it receives and usually ignores what it considers as garbage, because it can't be sure of what is real data or just random noise. Generally in all sensing systems it is signal strength to noise ratio that determines that for a first run. But with all the scanners hooked up to the ship, if multiple scanners receive the same 'garbage,' then the likelihood it's real data and the ship could easily analyze it."

"Also, potentially with the ship providing the analyzing support, the data throughput could be a lot higher to the ship, meaning that any 'phasing event' could be determined a lot quicker. Those scanners relatively close together, say within effective maximum range, would enable us to produce 'synthetic' scans as if the scanners were the size of the distance between the actual scanners themselves, basic sensory interferometry."

"With the ships sensors in support, they could do the low resolution scanning that allows the ground scanners to concentrate on more probable events determined by the ship. More data we can get, more information we can get out of it. Faster that happens, better chance we can rescue the crew."

After a glance at Cutter, Victor asked, "How long to make that happen?"

Aina gave a small shrug, "Less than an hour, unless there is something strange in the software communication protocols for the scanners that I need to be aware of. It would need a little while longer for me to modify the scanner software to run effectively on the ship's core."

At this point Eve finally piped up. "I've already got a length of coding I can give you Ms. Mason. The Rouge squadron's vessels have been fitted with a unique telemetry relay package I devised, which essentially turns the squadron into a massive interconnected sensor net. Each pilot has access to the best sensor data regardless of how far they are from their target. It shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to modify the base programming for what you've got in mind."

Aina gave a shrug, "It be a help, that's for sure."

"You can do this, although, I don't believe it will be as effective as you hope. With the limited number we have of these sensors and the size of their range, you will probably only be able to link up two sensors at a time. But, you should get started now," Cutter said, and then turned to Victor, "We need to leave; we're running out of time."

Aina looked at the winged avian, "Even if it's only a little bit - it's better than not doing it, sir."

"All right." Victor turned to the rest of the group. "Hazard Team members see me after we let out. Aina, Eve, you have thirty minutes to get Aina's plan ready to go – more if you can do it in the air. Everyone else get your gear and meet in the Shuttlebay in fifteen minutes – someone help Aina and Eve with theirs, they're going to be busy. We'll sort shuttle assignments out on the pad." He looked around the room. "That's it folks. Let's go."

Aina nodded, "Yes sir."

"Time's wasting, people," Victor said, looking around. "Make it happen."

"Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking" -- pt. 3

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Corporal Cianan Tierney
J. Andrus Suder

****

Planetside

Andrus sat up slowly with a headache that felt like his sinuses were
being tied into one large painful knot. There'd been mornings like
this in his youth, when he'd woken up hung over and some place
interesting like in his bathtub, but that had been after several hours
of conning free drinks. The last thing he could remember was being
overwhelmed by his lover's reaction to whatever presence they had
detected on the planet.

"You pack quite a punch, B," Andy muttered. He'd give everything he
owned for a cup ... no a pot of coffee right now.

"What the hell's going on around here?" Brian muttered in return. For
his part, the counselor remembered the telepathic pummeling like it
had been a landslide of real rock. He rubbed his neck. "I'm getting
tired of the telepathic hide-and-seek by whatever or whoever's out
here."

But Andy wasn't listening. Instead his eyes were focused on his foot
or rather the large rock that appeared to have grown around his ankle.
He closed his eyes, opened them, and still saw the rock. "Huh. Well,
that's different."

Turning his head in Andy's direction, Brian observed the phenomenon
that had caught Andy's eye. "Yeah, I'd say that is," he agreed before
standing up. He bent toward the rock to move it, but found it equally
without substance to his own hand. "Well this place is just full of
surprises, isn't it?"

"Not a place for a summer home. That's for damned sure," Andy agreed.
It took a few minutes but he was able to pull his foot from the rock
about the same time that Cianan wandered into view.

Cianan couldn't explain what happened. Brian and Suder seemed to be
experiencing heightened psychic projections and a moment later they
were gone...at least appeared to be gone. The Angosian didn't believe
it. He could still perceive them. "Counselor? Suder?" He stood
quietly, taking in his surroundings. Reaching his hand out he could
almost feel body heat not his own.

"Right over here," Andy said with some annoyance. When they got back
to the ship, he and Brian were going to have a long conversation about
away teams, Betazoid diseases, and just what this Cianan fellow meant
to Brian.

Cianan's perception was off. It was disconcerting to say the least. He
thought he heard a voice and his ears were typically reliable.

Andrus felt stupid for asking but he couldn't seem to help himself.
"Uh, does he not see us?"

Uncertain of how to answer, Brian moved toward Cianan. When the
counselor reached to place his hand on the other man's shoulder and it
passed through as if it were made of air, it was clear things were
worse than they appeared. He looked back at Andy. "I think that's
the least of our problems."

It was felt. Cianan's body reacted to something nearly imperceivable,
but familiar. Tapping his comm badge he attempted to activate a comm
signal. It wasn't working. "Shit, I hope I didn't kill them." The
Angosian was joking, though a dark part of his mind - a part closed
off - wasn't certain. "Where'd you go Brian?"

Andy made a face. "Good to know he's not worried about where I went."

Brian only gave Andy a look in response.

"I'm right here, Corporal," Elessidil replied, the disorientation and
confusion of the situation having been more than enough to push aside
the romantic feelings he'd been overwhelmed with earlier. Brian shook
his head. This wasn't making sense. He tried kicking a rock, but his
foot passed right through it. He tried another...that one moved. But
were they even in the same plane of existence as Cianan now?

There it was again. Cianan had heard a lot of voices others had not,
mostly in his head. This one wasn't. The marine stood perfectly still
focusing his senses. The adrenaline kicked in, it didn't take long. It
was both an autonomic and manual response in the biologically enhanced
being. His perceptions opened further with seeing, smelling, hearing,
and feeling exponentially increased. Cianan's body bio-chemically
changed at the DNA level as he focused. Beyond using a tricorder, the
only perception of change was his eyes. They were somehow more feral.
"Give me a sign," he hissed through pursed lips.

"A sign?" Brian repeated out loud. "I'm standing right next to him
and practically yelling in his ear and he wants a sign?" he muttered
in Andy's general direction. What could he do? His thoughts went
immediately to the rock he'd successfully kicked. It was the only
object that had exhibited any solid properties so far, but would it be
solid for Cianan? There was only one way to find out. Brian bent
down and snatched up the rock. "If it hits you, good," he said, then
he threw it directly at Cianan.

Cianan felt a familiar reaction, his own version of a "spidey sense."
Not knowing from where the danger was coming he scanned around. A
moment later he felt pressure against his stomach momentarily causing
him to lose his breath. "I'll take that as a sign." Taking out his
tricoder he began to scan across the spectrum. Finally, he picked up a
residual pattern. The pattern had residual biological matter as well
as chroniton patterns.

"Looks like he's seeing something," Andy commented.

"I'm not a physicist." Cianan said. "Could you two have picked an
easier puzzle?" He sighed. "Chronitons." Cianan new that chronitons
were a particle related to time. Cianan seemed to recall they were
used in borg transwarp conduits and Romulans use them in cloaking
technology. Chronitons were also not easily manipulated. They can
cause temporal rifts. He also recalled reading about a chroniton
particle weapon. The weapons allowed the user to pass through
shielding by creating a temporal flux. It was similar to the
biological enhancement Cianan experienced which allowed him to be
undetected by sensors or to scatter transporter signals. Chronitons
also had an antiparticle, an antichroniton. It could be created with
some of the equipment from the away team's party. "Am I crazy?"

"I'm not a physicist, either," Brian answered, knowing Cianan couldn't
hear him. "But I am a counselor. . .you're not crazy." He turned to
Andy. "Any chance rescue from him aside, we could be stuck in this
state for...who knows?"

"Longer than I'd care for," Andrus replied.

"It's not like a bad vacation, Andy." Brian started to pace. "We're
stuck...somewhere...and so far it doesn't seem anyone knows where we
are! We don't even know where we are! We don't know if we're alone
here, we don't know if there's anything life-threatening about this
place or condition, we don't know how we got here or if we can ever
get out. We know nothing!"

Andrus looked over at him sharply. If Brian started to freak out then
it was very likely that he would follow. And because of the illness,
who knew when both of them would snap out of it. "Stop that."

"Well what do you expect me to do? Be happy about this?"

He felt his own anxiety start to rise and took a deep breath. "Imzadi."

Did Andy just call him what he thought he did? "What did you say?" Brian asked.

"Imzadi," Andrus repeated calmly. "You need to calm down. Now."

Andy's calmness nudged its way into Brian's senses, helping to dampen
the panic before it got too far out of hand. But there was something
else...the warmth. The warmth he'd been feeling earlier when he
thought about Andy. No longer displaced toward Cianan, it had one
clear focus now. "Imzadi..." Brian repeated as if testing out the
word on the other man.

Brian smiled. Maybe being stuck here wasn't such a bad thing after all.

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