"Brewing Storm"

Rear Admiral Bronnen
Commanding Officer
Task Force Sigma- Starfleet

Lower Admiral Sl'trek
Commanding Officer
Combat Group Two- Triad
===============================================

(Command Center: Breen Confederate Navy Warship 'K'lar')

Lower Admiral Sl'trek had just met the proverbial lady he would be riding in action tonight, and he loved her instantly.

The K'lar was part of the intense rebuilding effort the Breen initiated during the Post Dominion War period. The disastrous losses they had sustained despite their relatively shallow engagement in the conflict prompted a great deal of questioning back home. The blame it was believed, fell upon the fact that the Breen Navy was entirely too reliant on rapidly produced, fairly small warships. The pre-eminent design in service during the War was the infamous Type VI destroyer. The ship gained a fearsome reputation in combat among the Allies during the early months of Breen engagement, most notably for it's famed power-dampening weapon which utterly crippled the finest vessels in the Quadrant with a single shot in short order. It was one such weapon that lead to the destruction of the equally fearsome USS Defiant at the Second Battle of Chin T'oka, and allowed the Breen to penetrate far enough into the Federation that they were able to mount a historic raid on Earth itself. One that had bore itself deep into the psyches of those who witnessed the devastation, and impressed even the Klingons by it's sheer audacity and ruthlessness.

Of course the less mentioned part of that story was that the Federation's Third Fleet had seen to it that the entire attacking force had been shot to hell and back. Scarcely a single ship sent forward returned to it's port. The Founder had declared their sacrifice to be noble, their bravery exemplary, but in the end the Breen probably sealed their fate on that day. In a rather ironic twist of fate, the sneak attack on Earth sounded the death knell... before that day the Breen had never known defeat in a major conflict with the Allies. Following it, the Dominion never knew victory.

Almost a thousand type VI destroyers were lost during the war, of which fully one-third were lost in the attack on Earth alone. It was a lesson learned at horrible cost, but investigations at the end of the War determined that newer, larger ships would be needed were the Confederation to regain it's competitiveness as a military force.

And this was one of those classes that came about as a result.

The K'lar was a ship of the line that followed the modern trend towards the 'super ship'. It alone had more firepower than the Destroyer and Frigate squadron he had commanded back during the War, armed with half a dozen of the (less effective) energy dampening weapons for the capturing of unprepared ships, it's conventional armament included 9 heavy C-series disruptor cannons, 36 high caliber standard disruptor cannons and a dozen three-round burst torpedo tubes, it was essentially a mobile Starbase complete with a Naval Infantry contingent and full fighter complement of 70 craft, and a regular crew of 2,100. It's heavily armored biogenic hide protected it as well as your regular ablative armor, and the ship had a top speed of approximately warp 9.8, allowing it to keep up with all but the fastest adversaries out there, and hunt down anything worth it's time to track.

At 250 meters high, 1,100 meters long and with an equally proportional width... the K'lar Class Super-Dreadnoughts were a formidable opponent and a massively intimidating sight to be sure. The Breen had managed to complete, and commission, 18 of the space fairing weapons before the new war came to begin. He was fortunate enough to have his flag upon one... a rarity for merely the leader of a Combat Group. Normally ships of such status were reserved exclusively as flagships for entire fleets.

He was very well liked among Central Command however, and the Breen... wishing to prove to their allies that they were capable of pulling their own weight, wanted a ship like the K'lar as part of this group.

Part of the reason was that the Hydrans had already committed two highly prized dreadnoughts of their own in the initial assault on the Alpha KS-128 star system. The main reason however was that the system was considered 'that' important. If it could be captured and fortified... than what happened to San Francisco nearly a decade before could be a fate that befell the gleaming cities of many a Federation world for the remainder of the war.

The command center of the K'lar, amid ship and heavily protected by monotanium reinforced biogenic armor was massive... made all the more so by the fact that the K'lar wasn't scheduled to leave dock for another three days. Outside his window were the distant forms of the other 30 ships of his task force. Some were in dock, finishing preparations for departure. Still others were on picket duty, defending the ship yards and their comrades from any surprise assault.

All in all he had a good mix of ships under his command. In addition to the K'lar, there were 3 Hydran Escort Carriers, their airwings being hastily assembled (the elimination of an entire class of Hydran pilots on Altroth III made such a task difficult, though that wound they hid from the allies well enough.), and their crews readying the ships for battle. They sat in dock, many of the securing braces being removed to allow them to be ready for launch in an instant.

Minding the picket ships and watching over the sitting carriers was the Dominion War era Breen Battleship Brohmnj. She could no longer claim to bear the mantle of 'dreadnought', but what her enemies had made up for in firepower difference, she compensated with tried and true technology. She could take a beating, issue one out, and her systems were so reliable that it was likely that even after heavy damage she could limp back for repairs. Her gunnery package made it difficult for anything less than an enemy dreadnought to handle one on one, and certainly kept her above weight of other cruisers.

His task force included another 3 Battle cruisers, 5 mid-weight cruisers, 4 light-cruisers, 5 Heavy destroyers, 4 destroyers, and 4 gunships. A mix of mostly Breen and Hydran designs, with a pair of T'Kith'kin cruisers thrown in simply because they were available on short notice. As far as they knew, Thufi's task force had an enemy force pinned down in the system. Their arrival would absolutely provide the firepower necessary to overcome the standoff, bombard and eliminate the Federation forces on the planet, and set up a strategically important base of operations along the sub-space highway that would allow them to threaten multiple points deep behind enemy lines at will. A quick, glorious victory that could be the first step towards ending this war.

There was a groan that came from behind him. The Admiral turned around to see his executive officer, the K'lor's operational commander, standing there with a pad in his hand. "The status reports from the task force." He intoned in the harsh, nearly imperceptibly garbled Breen language. The high-pitch carried at such a frequency that it was beyond the ability of most sentients to hear, guttural as it was... hence why the need for vocalizers when dealing with most life forms. "The Hydrans are again requesting a delay in departure."

Admiral Sl'trek rolled his eyes. This was the third request they had received from their Hydran 'allies'... the same Allies who had insisted on the operation in the first place. Such chaotic contradictions would not be permitted in the strictly disciplined and regimented Breen Confederation. "What is their rationale for this request?"

The Captain of the K'lor knew what the reaction was going to be once the first words left his mouth. "Their air wings are having difficulty..."

His fist came down hard against the brownish olive colored desk that had been grown out of the deck plating. "Again?!" The loss of the Altroth III facility had been an inconvenience to be sure, but if the Hydrans didn't recover from such a small loss, they would most certainly be the anchors which kept the Triad in check. That one loss had badly hindered the quality of Hydran pilot training, and new classes were now being taught 'en route'... but how damn long could it take to teach a pilot how to fly what was tantamount to a one-seat hybrid of a torpedo and shuttle craft? "They have had months to bring their squadrons up to standard! Do they honestly believe a few more days will prove a difference?!"

The skipper nodded. "They believe the last of their reserve pilots will be generally qualified in three days. They are forgoing type certification for the sake of expediency, but are not willing to leave port without an appropriate airwing complement."

Three days. It was an annoyance, but it wasn't the end of the world. Triad intelligence had agents observing practically every Federation outpost along the front, and many that were far deeper than that. Starfleet had sent all the ships and reinforcements it could spare to Alpha KS-128 already. The next force that they could possibly be sent would be another three weeks away, while his own task force was just a week and a half at cruising speed. Even with the 3 day waiting period, they would get their guns in plenty of time. "This is what happens when you deal with societies that embrace royalty, I suppose. Very well, grant their request. All crews, troops, and fighter wings are to continue battle drills in preparation for the attack... please handle the organization."

"Yes Admiral." The Breen Captain came to attention, realizing that was all he was needed for. Sl'trek dismissed him, turning to look back out his window... one of the Hydran carriers coming into view. Allies, you couldn't fight with them, couldn't win a war without them.
==================================================================

(Observation Lounge: U.S.S. Saratoga N.C.C. 78920)

Captain Stephen Limariko stared out the sizable windows of his command, the U.S.S. Saratoga, one of the newest Sovereign class starships to enter Starfleet service. Coming into view was the dull, lifeless, sole planet of this particular solar system, all of one light-year from the closest starbase. It might as well have been a million though, because for all that anyone there knew, the Saratoga had left for the Badlands a week ago to reconnoiter Triad forces in Cardassian space.

The Terran born in Trieste, with a small dacha style manor in Dalmatia could be in a hundred different places from where he was. Yet, for some reason, Limariko wanted to be 'here'. It was as if, naturally, he knew this would be the best place for him to be. Call it the work of God, the ingenuity of chance, the result of personal choice and self-convincing... whatever it was, fate had placed him here. Whatever came next, he was going to greet it 'here'.

The Admiral was already starting to rub him the wrong way. He might very well have been a brilliant mind when it came to strategy and organization, but 'curt' was the politest way of calling the son of a bitch what he was. The sooner he got the Admiral off his ship, the happier Captain Limariko would be. In that regards, he was practically chomping at the bit to get the fight over and done with. The last of the task force's assets were gathering in the system. The Admiral had ordered their departure from the system 3 days ahead of schedule after receiving word that it was 'unlikely' the Klingon strike force for which they had waited would be arriving. The Klingons were hard pressed to hold their own after all, let alone contribute to the defense of the UFP.

Behind the Saratoga was it's battle group of 11 ships, including some of the most effective combat ships in Starfleet Service. Task Force Sigma had been established before the war as one of several Task Forces to maintain constant 'combat capability' for the sake of rapid response to tactical threats against Federation member worlds that fell short of full scale war. Planners had recognized the need to maintain a force faster and more deployable than a full battle fleet, but that was still sufficiently strong to combat a considerable array of potential adversaries.

Now that Starfleet was officially on war setting, Sigma was a flexible group that could be deployed where it was needed either for a limited tactical objective or as reinforcement to the 'proper' fleet structures. It included two battlegroups including Saratoga's, a cruiser squadron, and a support squadron. All in all there were 48 Federation ships, command based around the Sovereign class ships Saratoga and Alamo. The group totaled the equivalent to 3 Dreadnoughts, a light battleship, 7 Battlecruisers, 6 mid-cruisers, 5 light cruisers, 9 Destroyers, 5 gunships and 12 support vessels all of which carried appropriate defensive armaments. All of those ships out there seemed beautiful... graceful... it was a shame they were being used as tools of war rather than the implements of peace and exploration they were intended to be by their designers.

All of those people, no guarantee that any of them would ever see tomorrow.

Behind him, the door slid open. Stephen was oblivious to it though... on a starship you got so used to people coming and going that it didn't bother you when doors opened and closed.

"Final status checks are clear, sir." The woman, a fairly young Risian by the name of Taxa Utat waited for him to turn before accepting the PADD. One would never have known by how light her step was that she was 4 months pregnant. Even by glance, she was barely showing. "The Admiral is giving us orders to move out in 3 hours."

Stephen smiled and gave the report a cursory glance. "So that's it... we're ready to go. Are you sure you want to be here Taxa? There's still a shuttle available if you..."

"Change my mind?" She asked, slipping a tendril of hair behind her ear. "This is where my home is. If it's all right with you, I prefer to remain close to my husband."

Her husband, and his tactical officer, most definitely needed to be here. If she wasn't going to leave... well Stephen couldn't say he blamed her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to stop her. If he had a wife on a ship, he probably wouldn't want to leave it either, regardless of the reasons to. "Absolutely commander. I take it there are no other outstanding crew issues?"

"No sir."

"Then let's get moving." He knew Von Ernst's task force had a Hydran battlegroup locked down. Starfleet's defenses had stiffened considerably now that the Federation had a chance to dig it's heels in, meaning that the vast majority of Hydran reserves had already been committed. There wasn't much they could possibly have left to send towards Alpha KS-128. They'd show up, shatter the Hydran task force in the area, destroy the Hydran fortifications on neighboring Alpha KS-129, leave behind what assets were necessary to keep the area under control and then take every other ship possible right on to rendezvous with the fleet that would be heading towards Corvalis for the action there.

Shatter the enemy, secure the objective, and save the Federation. All in a day's work for Starfleet officers.

Neither Commander knew it, but in the vicinity of the half dead star known as Alpha KS-128, 78 starships, more than 700 fighters, and over 75,000 soldiers were about to clash... the fate of the known Galaxy potentially hanging in the balance.

"Auctions and Icons"
by Ensign T'risia
with NPC Ensign Lucas Walker

OOC: I just HAD to write a post! This would take place before the beam down to search for the missing crew...

_______________________

The slender Vulcan woman, T'risia, sat by herself in the ship's lounge. She was dressed in her uniform, which appeared to fit poorly, but really only due to her awkwardness moving in the human style garments. She was used to her flowing tunics, which fit somewhat differently, and her mannerisms had never truly adjusted. The table was set to play Tri-D chess with her, and she had a significant advantage over her AI opponent. The set was in the standard Staunton style of pieces, and she found them appealing in a crisp, clean aesthetic fashion.

Also on her small table she had a snack, one of her singularly artificial Terran affectations, a bowl of whatancient humans called "Hot Cheetos." She had trouble adjusting to the somewhat artificial flavor, but found it to be complimented well by the Terran beverage known as "Coca-Cola." Beside her, a PADD was set on standby, to alert her when a transaction was completed for her collection.

Her hairband was one of her typically eccentric Terran mannerisms, featuring a diminutive animated character called "Rainbow Brite." The blonde terran girl adorned it in her multicolored uniform of sorts, and many rainbows and stars adorned it. T'risia had often wondered if there were a link between the character's symbology and the symbology for homosexual relationships on twentieth century Earth, also known to use rainbow symbology. She had never been interested enough to research it, however, and now, did not wish to take the PADD off of standby.

As she moved her knight up one level and announced "Check," the chair before her turned around. Looking up, she saw the sandy haired Ensign Walker. He seemed his usual self, and more than a bit interested in her game.

"Hey there! Sitting alone again?" He smiled a bit, and seemed friendly enough. "I didn't know that you played chess. That's interesting. Hey...I also don't believe I know your name...?" He smiled again, brighter.

"It is T'risia. At least, that is the portion that humans can pronounce." The pretty Vulcan woman's expression did not change.

"That's pretty."

"Pretty or not, it is my name. I have no other."

The ensign looked a bit uncomfortable. "Um...yeah. Well, my first name is Lucas."

T'risia nodded, assimilating the new information, but not responding. Small talk was not her forte. As she nodded, the computer moved its king out of check.

"What are you working on with that PADD?" asked Lucas, curiously.

"I am bidding on an item for my collection of Terran artifacts." Her reply was succinct, and crisp, not the loquaciousness of her business talk. Social interaction was most hard for her, especially with non Vulcans.

Walker brightened. "Oh? What are you bidding on?"

Warming to the topic, T'risia tilted her head, her emotionless face regarding the good looking young crewman. "The hand weapon of the legendary Terran warrior, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Few survived after the twentieth century, and it is a religious artifact of great meaning to the Terran culture."

For a moment, Lucas was simply stunned. Then he said, "Um...not really. Obi Wan was a fictional character, and the stories about him were a series of films."

T'risia nodded her head. "I am aware of the many stories of Kenobi. I have read, and watched, most of them."

"So you know they aren't true?" Lucas looked relieved.

"No more or less true than any religion," T'risia responded placidly.

Walker was truly concerned for her mental health, and leaned forward. "How do you figure?"

"Most Terran figures are a combination of myth and reality. Socrates, for instance, was a historical figure, presented as a fictional character by Plato and Xenophon, and in plays by Aristophanes. Many films were made about the Terran religious icon Jesus, and his veracity as a jistorical figure is intrinsic to Terran timekeeping. The American General George Washington has many myths surrounding his exploits, and also many fictional recountings."

Walker leaned back. "But Obi Wan kenobi didn't have a religion around him, or historical data."

"To the contrary. Census records from the time period show that many humans ascribed the same religion, Jedi Knight, in the regions known as England and Australia. In those areas, it was the fourth largest religion claimed. Kenobi was considered one of it's greatest exemplars." As she concluded her statement, the PADD chirped. Consulting it, she read the data, and completed the transaction.

"You won it?" asked the now puzzled Ensign Lucas Walker.

"Indeed." Although the vulcan woman's expression did not change, she looked quite satisfied.

~The B Team~


Cutter
T'Risia
Elrin

8-Ball
Johnny Walker



They had been back on the planet for a couple hours, now. Elrin had flown them to as close to the crashed starship as he could, restricted as he was by the requirement for a safe landing zone, but it had taken nearly an hour to walk to and reenter the ship and arrive at 8-Ball's last known location. It had been over a day since she vanished before Chris Daniels' and Cutter's eyes in the former captain's quarters.

Well, before Cutter's eyes, at least. Daniels had merely looked away for a moment, and when he looked back, she was gone. But for Cutter, she was still visible for several moments before her atoms accelerated away into a new dimension. He did not know why the effect was visible to him, but not to Daniels, or any other Galaxy crewmember. Nor did he know why he seemed to 'skip like a record,' as the human had put it, twice, during their away mission, nor why he couldn't remember such an event occurring. But, even after a couple hours back on the planet, it had yet to occur again.

As did any positive readings on their scanners.

There was no sign of Lieutenant Hunter, or anyone else. Their scanners were reading nothing.

T'risia scanned the area with her piercing green eyes, considering the scanners, which seemed less than useful at this point in time. Her straight black hair was held back with her headband adorned with the Terran "Hello Kitty" emblem, and her black and gold uniform seemed to fit her poorly. Rather, it was clear she was unused to Terran designed clothes. The lithe woman considered the situation before them.

"Logically," she began, in her measured, emotionless tones, "verbal interaction may serve us better than technological sophistication in this instance. If we are indeed half present in this other 'phase', then causality within that reality should be analogous to within our own. Simply put...if we shout loudly enough, the air molecules in the 'phased realm' should be agitated as well as ours, and create a basic beacon which a logical entity might move toward."

The vulcan woman ceased her speech, quietly computing the probability of the others present responding favorably to such a Luddite solution.

"Please don't," Cutter grumbled in response. "While your suggestion might be sound, these scanners have a range that reaches beyond what any of our voices could while we're searching on the ship. Even two hundred years ago, Federation starships were built with enough internal sound dampening to limit anyone from hearing us."
The response was, after all, what the Vulcan woman had predicted. If she had feelings, she imagined that they would be hurt. Instead, the fact that her concept, based in pure reason, was in fact disposed for the use of what might be a flawed technology, caused a vague dissatisfaction with the unsteady logic of the situation. T'risia began again, attempting to add reason to the matter, as best she could.

"I am certain these scanners will work," Cutter snapped. He designed them, after all, and tested them. Of course they would work. "The likely reason why they have not found anything yet is that we have yet to search an area where there is something to be found."

Cutter, was responding as an emotional being, taking the failure of the device, even in the short term, as an affront, and not merely a fact of the situation. T'risia raised an eyebrow in thought. "Certainly, then, taking your first premise about shielding as valid, and further, the second premise that we are simply out of range....it would be logical for our group to split up, and thus increase our search area options by a factor of three."

Elrin was trying to stay quiet the whole time and stare more or less straight ahead. That's what he did when he was nervous as an attempt to hide it. It rarely mattered though as his tail tended to betray him as it was doing right now. It was darting back and forth like a bee looking for a good flower to land on. When the brainy types started arguing Elrin stayed silent. However when the idea of splitting up was raised, his ears twitched and he said, "Um, sir, are you sure that's a good idea? What if one of those...things is around. Heck, if its a pack hunter like I heard they're probably looking at me as lunch. Vulpines tend to have that effect on carnivores."

The slender Vulcan woman was fascinated by Elrin's emotional response. "Truly, the logical trade off for increased search area is one of safety. In our current configuration, one person could scan, while the other two could be deployed at 180 degrees, to maximize the fire arc and visual coverage. However, we do not seem to have made that decision either." Her expression was deadpan, as always, as she continued her sober appraisal of deployments, incongruously with her "Hello Kitty" headband. "With our current configuration, defensive abilities are minimized, and search grid area is similarly reduced. Illogical."

"It doesn't matter. I'm detecting something," Cutter said suddenly.

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

8-ball was dreaming of warm sands and cool waters when some asshole had to come along and ruin everything by speaking. 8-ball blinked open her eyes and gave Johnny Walker the most intimidating sleepy glare she could muster.

"Go'way."

"Wish I could. No, no, hey, open your eyes again, 8-ball. We gotta do our hourly concussion test."

8-ball told him exactly what he could do with his hourly concussion test. It involved sensitive parts of his anatomy, Ferengi, and a less than delicate touch. Walker blinked at her and laughed.

"You're twisted," he said. He helped push her up to a sitting position and examined her pupils.

"You don't have any idea what you're looking for, do you?"

Walker sighed. "Shut up, 8-ball. What's your middle name? Who's the current Captain of the Galaxy?"

"Mary Jane. Jean-Luc Picard."

"Okay, you know what would help? If you'd stop being an asshole!"

8-ball blinked. "I don't know that anyone's ever called me an asshole before. Bitch, sure. Slut, always. Tramp, whore, cheap half-Vulcan prostitute--"

"Shhh!" Without any warning, Walker leaned forward and put a hand over her mouth. She sighed. "I really thought we were over this," she said, muffled, through his fingers.

Walker ignored this entirely. "You hear something?"

8-ball thought of many clever yet mildly immature retorts to that. In the end, she didn't say any of them, mostly because Walker's hand was still covering her mouth. At first, all she could hear were the other crewmen trapped in the cell with them. Their breathing was especially obnoxious. She thought about telling them to quit it immediately.

There was a slight possibility that they might ignore her, so she tried to listen past the sounds of their minor hysteria. She was getting pretty close to telling Walker she was hearing bubkes, when suddenly there was something. Footsteps, not far away.

Now, it would be ridiculous to say that footsteps could be sinister . . . except, of course, when they could be, like when the cannibals walked by. The cannibals, she had noticed, seemed to almost slither instead of walk . . . although this perception was perhaps colored by knowing that human entrails were mixed with their shoelaces. But these footsteps now, these weren't of the creepy variety. These were the loud, marching footsteps of people who didn't know that they could be eaten at any moment.

These were good footsteps. These were happy footsteps. These were the footsteps of Starfleet.

"Hallelujah!" 8-ball said, through Walker's hand.

Johnny Walker and 8-ball stood up, with the others just behind them. As they edged toward the door, 8-ball heard voices, although they seemed to crackle, fading in and out. Someone said something about a disturbance. Someone else said "In the brig?"

"Apparently," was the response, and then 8-ball couldn't hear anything else.

She turned to Walker. "I can barely hear them," she said. "Do they sound . . . static-y, to you?"

Walker barely looked at her. "I can hear them fine," he said.

They knelt by the door, glancing out the small slot that supposedly was there for food. 8-ball saw nothing, but Walker's jaw dropped. "Jesus," he said, "Jesus. They're--hey! Hey! Look over here, you bastards! Over here!"

Turning her head slightly, T'risia's sharp Vulcan hearing picked up a faint sound. She canted her head slightly, attempting to locate the source of the echoes in the dark, so to speak. After several moments, she turned her attention back to the other two officers, and said in her cool, emotionless tones, "I believe that we should go in this direction. I am detecting faint sounds, most probably outside the auditory range of your species. However, it does seem to coincide with the set of logical premises that we are only partially in phase synchronous with the others, and thusly, would receive only partial sound transmissions."

Without further discourse, the Vulcan woman strode down the hall, her dark hair flowing behind her from behind the "Hello Kitty" headband. Sharp eyes could detect a similar sticker adorning her phaser, if they had been looking. T'risia did not turn to see if she were being followed by the other officers, she simply assumed that they did so.

"What? I don't hear anything," Cutter asked, as Elrin and T'risia made a dash for the far cell in the brig. He glanced down at his sensor, and the disturbance had increased in amplitude. If was being caused by a person, as he suspected, then they had suddenly become much more active. "There should be someone right here."

"There are lots of people right here," Johnny Walker said, although 8-ball doubted anyone besides her actually heard him. Everybody in the cell had gone nuts, shrieking and screaming at their supposed rescuers. 8-ball was screaming right with them, although she couldn't actually see who she was addressing. That didn't seem nearly as important as getting this damn door opened right the fuck now.

Turning her attention to Cutter, T'risia composed herself for dealing with an emotional being. Her expression did not change, but her green eyes seemed to radiate the patience reserved for those who did not solely rely on logic to dictate their actions. "There is someone right here. The missing officers are quite agitated, attempting to gain our attention through shouting, movement, and making other sounds. Although I too cannot see them, I assure you that they are quite loud." She looked towards the large cell door, and directed her comments to the missing officers. "A bit too loud for Vulcan hearing, at this range." Her brow arched.

"What are you talking about? I can't see or hear anything," Cutter harrumphed.

Patiently, T'risia continued her discourse. "Indeed, that has been logically established. Neither can I see the officers, but they can certainly be heard. Perhaps your unique physiology renders you incapable of perceiving them. I do not have the data to do more than speculate to that effect. However, we have achieved our primary search objective. We should now direct them to follow us to the rendezvous point. Presuming that they have in fact heard me, I should not have to waste verbiage repeating that directive. May we proceed?" The Vulcan woman was as unflappable as ever, a useful quality in a security guard.

Cutter looked in the direction that T'risia indicated, and then over to Elrin, to see if he was seeing the same thing he was or the same thing she was. But, the vulpine seemed to be siding with T'risia. Cutter looked again, but the sight remained unchanged. Where T'risia heard the calls of missing crewmen sat a large, empty brig cell. There was no door or bars, there was no clutter, and there was definitely no trapped crewmen. Just a large, empty space. Cutter attempted to listen, and again he could hear nothing. No cries for help, no shuffling limbs or clothing, not even calls of wildlife. All he could hear was silence.

He could only assume, as T'risia had pointed out, that she and Elrin were partially out of phase. But, they were only slightly smaller than he was, and they had been on the planet for just as long. He should be in a roughly equivalent state of phase as they were, but he was not. He did not know why.

But, this was not a question that demanded an immediate answer. Cutter looked back at the Vulcan woman. "Why don't you ask if they're okay, first?"

8-ball frowned, trying to figure out what Cutter had just said. She recognized Wing Boy's voice, but could only hear about every other word. Everybody else in the brig seemed to think it was a singularly dumb thing to say. They started banging on the door, yelling things like, "Just get us out of here!"

T'risia tilted her head slightly, a fairly common expression of Vulcan puzzlement. "Why would I? If they are indeed 'okay' they will be perfectly able to follow us. If they are not, there is very little that we could do for them, if anything, being out of phase with their reality. In short, an illogical and irrelevant question."

The Vulcan paused a moment. Obviously Cutter was being emotional. There must in fact, be an emotional need to the question then. "If it will satisfy you, I will ask. Stranded officers, are you, as they say, 'okay'?" Although emotionless, the pretty Vulcan seemed put out by the need for such frivolity.

8-ball looked to Johnny Walker, who provided translation. 8-ball turned to stare incredulously at her invisible saviors.

"Does it fucking look like we're okay?" she asked.

These sentiments were echoed by everyone in the brig until Walker told them to shut up. "We're okay," he said to T'risia, "for the most part. A few people in here have concussions and broken bones, but nothing life threatening, not yet. But the effects of the phasing are becoming worse. Lt. Hunter can no longer see anyone in the non-phased dimension. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that this change will become permanent."

"Plus," 8-ball added cheerfully. "A bunch of officers are dead because we've been captured by cannibals. So, you can probably understand why we'd like to speed this up a bit."

Tilting her head once more, the Vulcan, T'risia considered the matter. To "8-ball" she responded in her calm manner, "Obviously, I cannot see you. Thusly, I cannot asses whether you look healthy or not. What an illogical course of reasoning." Bringing her attention more to the matter at hand, she added to Walker, "I assume then, that you are imprisoned. If you would step away from the door, I would have no problem vaporizing it, as I am currently astride both dimensional phases. Another group is working on resolving your own phase variance problem." With that, the pretty, but serious looking Vulcan woman drew her phaser, with its ironically happy looking "Hello Kitty" stickers adorning it.

Everybody backed up real quick. 8-ball found herself standing alone and backed up with them. She glanced at Walker. "Are they going to blow up the door?"

"Shoot it to death," Walker informed her. "With a . . ." He frowned and took a few steps forward, trying to get a better look. "Are those . . . "Hello Kitty" stickers? That's . . . kind of creepy."

"Uh, dude? Cannibals?"

Walker said, "Point taken," and backed up again with the rest of them.

Vulcans and their logic. It drove Elrin nuts sometime. Any species that had completely lost of the use of instinct and common sense deserved to be eaten. Anyway, it wasn't about to get them killed this time. Elrin's ears twitched as it was clear he was thinking. "Um, you're assuming of course that our weapons will work across the phases. You're also assuming that there's not some sort of booby trap or some fully phased cannibals just outside that we can't see."

"Cannibals?" Cutter asked, confused, since he was only able to hear one side of the conversation, but his question went ignored.

T'risia did not look up as she adjusted the settings on her phaser. "These assumptions are logical. For one, the ship itself exists mostly in our dimension...otherwise, we would not have discovered it in the first place. Secondly, the experiential data of the one crewman's artificial heart valves proves that inorganic matter does not phase. Thusly, the door is certainly able to be affected by my phaser." She gestured with her weapon for emphasis. "If there were a booby trap, it would be set up to respond to the door opening, not disintegrating, in all probability. Although there is a small probability that there is some disintegration relative trap, only experimentation will reveal it."

Turning, she added, "I will also have to logically assume that cannibals that are out of phase with my dimension may exist invisibly, but cannot be assumed to exist. Since the captured officers did not tell us of their immediate presence, and we have not sensed any, we can make the assumption that they are not here. If they are present....once the door is disintegrated, our own crewmates, logically, would inform us of their presence."

As she leveled the beam weapon, preparing to execute her thought experiment, she concluded, "Worry is illogical. We must simply take the next proscribed step in our mission parameters." With that, she activated the control, and fired at the door.

The Alpha KS-128 Campaign: A Historical Perspective







CHAPTER 6

EYEWITNESSES

In the previous chapters we've examined the origins and the motivations behind the forces engaged at the final Battle for the Alpha Ks-128 system.

Political Socioeconomic issues abound as the root core of the conflict as a whole, but realities of mere fortune seem to have brought the two juggernauts together at an otherwise backwater system on the fringes of the Federation.

Intelligence as we have seen had been spotty on both sides.

Hydran Intelligence's decoding of the Hauptmann Document while fortuitous, was not capitalized on and thus valuable time was lost in assembling the fleet. (1)

A dramatic underestimation of the Federation ground forces was key in the eventual Hydran withdrawal. The Leadership shown by then Col Arvelion was similarly paramount to Allied success. Leadership that manifested itself time and again during his political career in his later years.

Indeed, until the Banking Scandal of 2408 Arvelion proved to be one of the most promising leaders in the Alpha Quadrant. (2)

We've dissected the various orders of battle, and probed into the strengths and weaknesses of the regional commanders.

The overwhelming Hydran naval strength and its mediocre use by then Prince Thufi XXXIV is a matter of record, (3) as is the rather questionable tactics used by his opposite number then Captain Rebecca von Ernst.

It would be easy in hindsight to view this engagement as the first warning of the tragedies that would soon follow in her own infamous career.(4)

This strategic view, however useful in charting the ebbs and flow of the overall Triad War as a whole, fails to present a truly first hand impression of what the conflict was like for the average soldier or sailor on the front lines.

War is more than moving tiny lines on a map, and the bravery and heroic tales that make the history books such as this one, are not always the unvarnished truth about what happened on any given day.

It is true that over 40,000 men women and transgendered beings were engaged in hostilities at the height of the Ks-128 campaign. (5) However for every Thufi, or Arvelion....or even dare say a von Ernst, there were thousands more whose names did not share the limelight.....or (in the latter case) the blame.

While certain details still remain protected by Federation Confidentiality Laws, veterans are starting to come forward at last with their own versions of events.

For instance after much hyping in the media during the time, the so-called massacre at Dunnich Circle has in recent years proven to be much ado about nothing. (6)

Conversely, the stunning events at Napier's Point while seeming insignificant proved to be the hinge upon the whole battle turned, not to be realized until years later when documents from both sides were examined.(7)

This chapter however is about those unsung ranks.

We present a few of their voices here in their own words.

THE GROUND CAMPAIGN.

* Father Walker? Yeah I remember that old SOB. You never know a book by its cover right? Or something like that. Skinny little runt. Bad skin, and borderline asthmatic. WE always used to wonder how the hell he made it through boot right? Namby pamby little woos. HA! WE got caught in an ambush 20 klicks out of Nam Tok Right? Me and the rest of the platoon eat dirt, trying to scrape out a foxhole while the damn Stools * have us in a crossfire.

We'lll we're all hooting and hollerin', wounded men crying for their momma's, Old Jonesy on the 90-Watt spraying the treeline with hot shit....Well lo and behold if in the middle of this ol Father Walker is just as calm as he can be, walking from dude to dude talking to them....giving last rights...offering a prayer....completely fucking oblivious to the shit exploding all around him! I'm shitting my pants trying to keep my ass down in a 3 inch hole I carved out of the mud.....Father Walker is just walking around back and forth between the trees with this crazy purple prayer scarf round his neck....I don't know what you call em.

Shit...we all knew who the toughest hombre in the platoon was after that.

---Lance Corporal Zeke Granger, B Company, 188th Battalion

We didn't have time to site the artillery properly. Hurry up fire mission and all that. Well old # # battery didn't get staked down right the way its supposed to. There's a certain way ya gotta do it or when you fire the dang thing the whole thing's liable to flip on ya.

Well #3 didn't flip but it sure did start hopping. BOOM-Hop! Then all the guys had to run up and push it back into its spot.

Boom-Hop. Push it back in. Boom-Hop Boom-Hop! Push!

We all though it was pretty funny at first....seeing the battery jump like that.

--- Private Emory Blufeld, D Battery, 1025th Mobile Artillery

The ride down was the shits. I don't know what our DropShip Pilot was smoking but I swear we spent half the time upside down or spinning. Tech next to me threw up all over herself.....cute. Hadda bite my tongue to keep from seeing my breakfast again too.

Oh and here's the best part. We fucking landed upside down....on purpose I bet...asshole.

Staff Sergeant Jared Conner, Service Company, 188th Battalion

"I'm Hit!" Thats all you'd hear in the darkness. A big boom and then a bunch of guys going "I'm Hit!" Followed by "Medic!" That's when you'd hear Doc Kurita come crashing through the trees. El -Tee made him march in the middle of the column to keep im safe, but one the "I'm Hit's" started, he'd come a running.

You could hear that crazy Jap from a mile away crashing around, but he saved alot of boys. Wonder what he's doing nowadays.

Private Lisa Flynn-Harker , E Company, 188th Battalion

Fork? Geez….what can you say about the Colonel. He was a bad ass…but not some stupid gung-ho medal hungry jerk. Yeah there were some grumblings about some of his decisions, but what can you do right? Suck it up, just like they taught you.

But no matter what they teach you, it didn't prepare us for what we found in that prison camp.

The pictures you see on the news reels? It don't do it justice. It doesn't bring across the smell of the place.

Yeah I had some problems with Fork…..but when we took that prison. Shit. That's the first time I realized what it meant to be a Marine fighting for something important. Those Anti-War shit heads can go fuck themselves after I saw that.

Gunnery Sergeant Horst Eichmann, E Company, 188th Battalion

THE SPACE CAMPAIGN

The Battle in Orbit, while largely over by the time major land operations began, nevertheless had its own heroes and villains.

The notable commander of the Hydran flotilla was none other than the young Prince Thufi XXXIV of Hydra whose later exploits were to become the stuff of legends.

Opposing the Prince was the Federations own Captain von Ernst, infamous in her own way, and the center of much controversy.

For those that were there however, things were a bit more blurred.

We were outgunned...pure and simple. Two of those damn Hydran Battleships and their assorted flock of escorts against our rag tag fleet? Impossible. Nobody wanted to go in there....unfortunately von Ernst was in command of the task force.

Lt Commander, Ubi Nwabideke, Tactical Officer. USS Jakarta

I found myself floating off the deck. I imagine my expression looked about as stupid as everybody else in the room as we flapped out arms struggling to maintain control. It'd been funny except for the captain blaring on the overhead to abandon ship. The Langley had fought her last fight.

Me and Joe Willisy and a few of the others went hand over hand floating down the corridor....red lights flashing and sirens blaring....looking for an empty escape pod.

Zero gravity does strange things to dead bodies.....three wer a lot of them floating...almost dancing n the air. Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore.

We found a pod okay and pulled the handle just like they say in the training videos...nothing.

Reset the switch and pull the handle...again nothing. The whole time Joe is just saying "Lets go lets go lets go lets go..." kind alike a mantra right? Well, I gets up and starts prying open the panel for an manual override when BANG!! All of the sudden the retros decide to fire, throwing me across the pod and smashing my back. Considering what happened to the rest of the Langley, I should be glad.....It ended my career in the fleet, but at least I made it out alive.

Crewman 1st Class, Natalie Davenport, Operations USS Langely

My name is Teresa Church...but back in those days most people called me Panic. Stupid I know, but it was kinda an elite title. We were the handmaidens to the big girl herself. Handpicked and trusted to win battles for her.

And we did....man we kicked some ass in those days. It didn't t take us long however to figure out the cost.

We were expendable damnit. Fodder for the von Ernst Killing machine. Once she was done crunching her numbers you just better pray your column didn't come up in the negative or it's be adios muchachos!

People make such a big deal about AS-128. Its not the first time the Captain killed people just to win. She'd been doing it for years, but nobody noticed until she rammed a third of the Zeus into that Hydran Battleship.

Monstrous?

Hell ya.

But you know another thing nobody talks about these days?

It worked damnit.

Commander Teresa (Panic) Church, Executive Officer, USS Zeus

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(1) Bental,Saul. Intelligence practices in the 2380's: A Retrospective.
Jerusalem, Zion Publishing. 2396

(2) Armstrong, Kenneth. The Forkel Factor: A study in Leadership.
Stagnoria, Military Press. 2415

(3) Glorsshka,Jaj. Plorkel koph THUFI :Klo toop toop
Hydrax Prime, Royal Press. 2426



(4) Corgan, James L. The von Ernst Epic: A Federation Tragedy.
Reykjavik, Publish-Islandica. 2412

(5) UFP. Official War Diary of the 188th Marine Battalion Vol 6. 2375-2390
San Francisco, Starfleet Naval Press. 2391


(6) Spolk, "Exoneration: The Dunnich Massacre Unmasked." Vulcan Legal Review. June 1st.
Pg 5667-6709


(7) London, Branwen "My Boys: The Napier Miracle" Marine Military Quarterly. Sept. 16th 2404.
Pg56-60

"The Imp and the Dragon Lady"

Flight Officer Aristi Ferguson
Dragon Lady

and officially introducing the Imp

*****

"Okay okay, we need a break. I need a break."

Stopping in the middle of walking right through a thick-trunked tree, Aristi sighed heavily and moved to the left, searching for something to sit on. Her gaze settling on a large rock she arranged her skin-skirt and plopped down.

And promptly went right through the rock and onto the hard, unforgiving ground.

"Bollocks." She frowned, looking down at the spot where her upper half seemed fused to the rock. Waving a hand idly through the rock she marveled at how it didn't really feel all that strange. Sure, it looked strange when solid body parts passed right through apparently solid rock, but other than a little bit of tingling and a slight cold feeling (which could have been entirely psychosomatic, she thought), waving her hand through the rock was just like waving her hand through air. Thus far the little bit of rock-cold was the only cold she'd encountered since she'd beamed down a day (or was it two?) ago. And for that the Cardassian woman was very grateful.

"Dag'n-Da?"

Aristi looked up, surprised to see that her guide hadn't left her behind, and that he was now watching her move hand through rock like a child who'd just discovered that she could push air around by fanning her hand back and forth.

"Sorry," she offered with a small smile, sliding herself sideways out of the rock. Stretching her legs out she pointed to her bare feet, not for the first time wondering why her captors had dressed her so elaborately, painted her face and arms and put her hair up into this ridiculous style, then sent her out into the wilderness with nothing on her feet but her own skin. "No shoes. My feet are killing me."

Quickly enough that it startled Aristi, her guide dropped to his knees before her, his long hair swishing softly against the dark leather of his garments as he bent forward, wrapped surprisingly warm hands around one foot, and slowly began to massage the tired appendage.

"Wait, wait!" She jerked her leg back, safely out of the reach of his hands. "That wasn't what I meant. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but...not what I meant."

He looked at her for a moment, shoulders sagging slightly, before he replied, "I sorry."

"No, don't be," she said, a feeling of guilt rising within her. Here was this poor native who'd been tasked to guide her on some sort of quest or something, and when he'd tried to ease the pain in her feet that she'd complained about, she'd complained about that too. "I'm the one who should be sorry, ah...whatever your name is."

"Imp."

"Excuse me?"

"Imp," he repeated, pointing to a spot somewhere on his throat.

"That's your name? Imp?"

He flinched slightly when she said the word, then shook his head once. "Name imp...imp...ehh...Impet," he finally said. "Kahru call Imp."

"I see," Aristi said with a nod. So he had a name, but the Kahru (the natives' word for themselves, she guessed) either couldn't pronounce it, or had given him a nickname. Judging by his reaction when she'd said the word, she figured he wasn't too fond of the shortening, or he associated it with unpleasant things. "So your name is Impet. I'm Aristi, by the way. Pleased to meet you."

He smiled and bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Reece."

"Close enough," she acknowledged with a chuckle. "So...I don't suppose you know what's going on here? I mean...where we're going?"

"Cave," Impet replied simply.

"Oh-kay," Aristi said, a little surprised at his quick response, especially since it seemed to be a genuine answer to the question she had posed. "Why are we going there?"

"Defee-tsu gate dag'n."

"Gate dag'n," she repeated, mulling the words over in her head. "Dag'n. Dag...gun. Dragon? A gate dragon?"

Impet nodded. "See, dag'n."

Slowly putting the pieces together Aristi looked down at her skirt, her mouth forming an O as she traced some of the scales with a finger. "Let me guess. There's some sort of creature that looks like a dragon, and it lives in a cave, and you want me to kill it in some sort of ritual. That's why I have this machete, and that's why I'm dressed in this strange outfit."

Impet nodded again, a smile spreading across his face.

"And I don't suppose you know how I'm supposed to kill a dragon with nothing more than a," she paused, unsheathing the knife and examining it in the low light of the planet's two moons, "a...an overgrown knife that looks like it's a few hundred years old."

"No...cue," Impet replied with a shrug. "Luck?"

Stunned speechless for a moment by his apparent attempt at humor, Aristi simply sat and stared. After several moments she opened her mouth to speak again, finally asking the question that had been nagging her since shortly after their conversation had begun. "And...just how can you understand me, when everyone else here seems to think I'm speaking in tongues?"

"Learnt...hear mudda ya fadda tok," he explained, carefully forming the words. "Hear fine, tok not fine."

"Okay then." She fell into silence again, thinking things over. After another long pause she leaned forward and looked more closely at him, her remaining eye narrowing slightly. The high cheekbones, severe eyebrows, olive complexion, and now the unusual name... She brought a hand up and slowly moved it towards his cheek, slipping it under the curtain of inky black hair and lifting it just far enough to confirm her suspicion.

"Thought so," she commented, letting the hair fall back into place over the delicately pointed ear. "You're Vulcan."

He nodded slowly, reaching up to drag his own hand through the hair she'd just touched. To Aristi, it wasn't immediately clear whether he found the contact and her subsequent revelation positive or negative. Or neither.

Either way, it didn't change what was going to happen in the near future. Knowing a bit more about why she was out here, Aristi was curious to see this cave and perhaps even meet the mythical so-called dragon that lived inside. "We should get moving," she said at last as she got reluctantly back to her sore feet, Impet quickly following suit. "Lead the way."

"All In"

Flight Officer Gryphon "Samurai" Stone

Pilot Sanoe "Sunshine" Nani - NPC
Pilot Min'el "the Muse" Hoj - NPC
Pilot Korr "Nomad" Shadin - NPC
Staff Tech. Marie Ainesly - NPC

Location: Saber Squadron Crew Lounge
======================================================================

Gryphon surveyed the crew lounge. The room had an entrance portal on
the "wide side" of its elliptical shape and opposite the door was a
viewing window (also a scaled to room sized ellipse). Around the
perimeter, and lining the walls were crisp looking red seating couches
with low backs. Their sharp edged looked was a severe contrast to the
rooms basically curvy look and the high level of comfort they provided
was not evident until they were actually sat on.

~~ soft and curvy ~~ like her lips...

The center of the room was populated by three tall tables with four
tall stools for each. These tables and chairs could be modulated to
form various table arrangements or to create a large briefing table
when the occasion called for it; just as the couches could fold into
the floor and walls if needed.

~~ subtle yet sturdy ~~ like her essence...

The actual walls were floor to ceiling vid screens that could be
programmed to simulate everything from stately wainscoted wooden walls
to fully active nature scenes. Currently they had the appearance of
black satin ruffled curtains.

~~ soft and elegant ~~ like her skin...

Light emitted from rounded niches within the crown molded ceiling; the
current setting being "Ambient: Dim."

~~ intangibly omnipresent ~~ like her scent...

The "narrow" ends of the ellipse were used for input or output.
Basically, one side housed the refreshment replicators and the other
featured the portal to the unisex bathroom that connected with three
other crew lounges.

~~ a delicate symmetry ~~ such is her beauty...

He noticeably shook his head in a futile attempt to get his mind off
of HER. The woman whose very name was as soft and flowing to speak as
the long dark strands of her hair were to touch. It had only been a
two days since he last had the pleasure of her company but the sensory
memories played upon his mind like soft caresses upon tight flesh. His
only wish was to understand how she had come to permeate his every
thought so vividly - effortlessly.

"Earth to Gryphon, you're the Big Blind you gotta pay to play, and you
gotta play to stay!" called out Korr.

Stone threw in the expected amount and Pilot Shadin proceeded to deal
each player two cards. His first went to the current little blind
Min'el Hoj. The second to his Saber Squadron XO. The next to the XO's
wingman Sanoe Nani, and the final card to Saber 2's Flight Chief,
Marie Ainesly.

After dealing each of them a second card Korr pointed to Nani and said
with a sly grin and twinkle in his eye, "Sunshine, first bet is to
you"

The word sunshine sent Gryphon's mind off again to a beach with her by
his side and even the response of "see and raise four," from Sanoe
didn't rouse him, nor did the re-raise of four by Marie. In fact, he
didn't find clarity until he felt the small kick below the table from
Min'el indicating it was his turn to bet.

"We're +8 boss, you in or back to dream land with you?"

~~ dreamland ~~ the place he kept her...

Gryphon peeked at his cards and was not surprised to see a king and
queen, both of hearts.

~~ to be her king ~~ for she would be queen...

He took that as an omen and said, "I can see that, and let's bump it
up eight more."

A look of consternation knitted the brow of Ainesly. She had read
three books on poker in the two days since she'd been invited to the
game and found it troubling to see so much action before the flop. It
seemed to go against most of the rules, and she hated going against
the rules. Reluctantly she called just as Nani had just done before
her.

With a growl Korr said, "Grr, this is going to be an expensive flop
but I just have to see it." He added 8 more in chips to the pot.

The Pilot known as "the Muse", looked at her pile of chips like a
child looks at a bowl of candy. It was still bigger then the pile in
the center of the table so she declined to add any more to it and
folded.

Shadin, burned a card, as was customary to ensure dealer honesty, and
peeled three cards from the deck in his left hand and placed them in
the center of the table. Then with an artistic turn of his wrist
flipped all of them face up and spread them out evenly with a swift
slide of his hand.

| 8? | | 4? | | 6? |

~~ a flush ~~ the blood within her cheeks...

Lost in reverie Stone tapped his fingers twice to the table and Korr
took this as a sign to "check" the bet. Shadin then pointed at Sanoe
who was sitting there with a huge smile. To a casual observer it would
appear that she had an excellent hand, but a horrible poker face. To
anyone that knew her it would signify nothing as she nearly always had
that exact same genuinely beeming smile affixed to her divinely
sculpted head.

"Well Sunshine," Korr just loved saying that he thought before
continuing, "any action?" He tried to tilt some innuendo on the
sentence but Nani didn't bite, she never did.

"Sure it's only money," she replied as she cheerfully through in ten
credits worth, oblivious to the slightly wide-eyed look that the money
hungry pilot known as "the Muse" issued her at hearing the words "only
money."

The bet was now on Marie who was calculating and recalculating odds in
her head. She was thinking that since Gryphon hadn't bet on the flop
that it had been bad for him. That's what the rulebooks had indicated
regarding that sort of behavior. She figured he'd been trying to "buy
the pot" so could discount him. Nani was impossible to read because
she didn't seem phased by anything. So her only choice was to bet her
hand, and based on her calculations she had only as 23.58% chance of
winning. This wasn't very good, but it wasn't a death knell. She could
see one more card. That was prudent.

"I'll call" her voice said with an amount of timidity as to be
recognized as a "tell" by Stone.

Shadin peeked at his cards again, another tell that he didn't have a
strong enough hand to even bluff with, and as expected he folded.

"Ten to you XO."

He felt the soft green felt under his fingers as he slid all of his
chips to the center of the table.

~~ soft and green ~~ like her eyes...

He could feel their gazes on him.

~~ a visual caress ~~ his eyes upon her...

Their mouths agape.

~~ the sweetness of her kiss ~~ lips upon lips...

Their soundless surrender to the power of his hand, as yet unseen.

~~ a quiet thunder ~~ his response to her touch...

"I'm all in"

~~ an understatement ~~ when the thought about her...

"Duck, Duck, RUN!!!"

Lt. JG Artim Shivar

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

Cameos by:

Transporter Chief Cannon

Lt. JG T'Pei

Petty Officer Benedict Maxwell

Major Nathan Everett

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

((Somewhere in the Jungle))

Even though "Liam" blathering on about doom and gloom and was on a seemingly endless mission to make the rest of Artim's life miserable the Miran had managed to do a rather superb job at ignoring him. Or rather ignoring himself. Was he talking to himself or could he really say there was someone else there? Were other parts of himself going to start talking to him if he wasn't rescued? Had he simply lost it? Damn, the shrinks were going to have fun with this when he got back.

As part of his efforts to ignore Liam, Artim had taken to studying the blue hippoish thing in front of him. It was a rather fascinating creature mainly because it was rather difficult to classify. It seemed to sniff around a lot like a canine but from the looks of it was a herbivore. In his experience Artim had rarely seen a herbivore engage its sense of smell so much. It's as it were smelling for something other then its food, but what? Someday he might have to come back to this planet and do further research on this creature. Well, if he ever got off this rock to begin with.

"What, he more interesting than me? If one of those things comes around he won't save you ya know. He's a wuss." Liam had a mocking tone to his voice and was making faces at the creature.

"Come now. How can you assume that? Besides, sometimes big scary creatures are afraid of little ones like this. Sharks for example, they'll run away at the first sign of a dolphin. Even the big ones!" Artim retorted as he started to dig around in his pack seeing what else there was to eat.

"True. But for all you know they'll just eat Blue over there first and then come back and have you for dessert.", Liam was now over poking at the creature though it didn't seem to be reacting.

"Shut up or change the subject. I don't care which." Artim shouted in reply. It was occurring to him that if they sent a shuttle for him he'd have to signal it somehow, but there wasn't much to work with. His palm beacon was damaged, but might be able to send out something. Wouldn't do much good in the daylight though. Could always try a smoke signal, but that could easily get lost in the canopy. Tricky, but maybe.

"All right, what about girls. You think any of them are missing you back on your precious ship. I know you like that new Vulcan girl...what's her name again?" Liam had changed the subject all right but to the only thing Artim found more uncomfortable than his past.

"T'Pei. And I don't *like* her in *that* way. We're colleagues. Maybe something else, but I don't have a thing for her." Artim's reply was casual but if there was anyone he couldn't lie to it was himself.

"Oh come on! Can't fool me. You've always had a thing for smart pointed eared women with copper based blood. Hell, you've even got a crush on that new captain!"

Artim looked embarrassed as that statement was true. "She's probably married or betrothed, or something anyway. Would be against regulations too. But still..."

Liam grinned, "Yeah, you want to. That 8-Ball chick might even do you..."

"HELL NO! She's smart all right but I like a challenge. Like Valera. You know how long it took to get her even thinking about it?" Artim replied firmly.

"Like you could anyway. You won't be able to for another two hundred years and you know it. Assuming you live the next two hundred minutes that is....."

As Liam finished Artim could see the little blue hippo thing look up and seem to focus on something up on the horizon. Artim walked quietly over to the bank and saw a speck barely visible in the dawn sky. A small silver speck. A shuttle?

"Told ya so! They're looking for me!" Artim smiled widely as he hobbled back over to his pack and started digging hastily. Ever the slayer of optimism Liam did point out the obvious.

"You ain't out of this yet kiddo!"

****

"Nothing yet," Cowboy reported from the pilot's seat.

"He's here," Victor assured him. "Somewhere on this grid. They keep getting some kind of partial return off his combadge on the Galaxy; enough to know that it's attached to a living entity, but not strong enough to yank him out with a transport. Chief Cannon said something about 'occluded signal dispersal' or something like that when I asked her about it, which sounded like a fancy way of saying "I don't know why it's happening.'

Nathan snorted in agreement, and banked the shuttle around for another pass. "That's always the way when they don't know – they just say something that sounds scientific," he drawled.

Victor looked out the window at the expanse of jungle and tried not to think about Artim encountering one or more of the predators that had killed Upchurch and the others, and almost killed Arel. Even though the Science Officer was tougher than his size would make one think, against a predator like that without recourse for retreat, Victor didn't like Artim's chances. And without a way to contact him to issue a forbiddance… well… best to not think about that.

"I see smoke to starboard," T'Pei reported from the back. "It is, based on wind dispersal and adjusting for altitude and origin-point density, 3.71 kilometers to the South-southeast."

****

"All right they're out there. Think...what's most likely to work." Artim had kind of gotten used to thinking out loud since Liam had been around. He didn't have much to work with except, well his fire was still smoldering. With an adequate supply of fuel he should be able to put up enough smoke for the shuttle to see it. Now if the wind would just shift out over the water he'd be set. Hobbling over to the small reserve of wood and tinder he'd amassed, Artim scooped up an armload and dumped it on the fire. It immediately roared to life and Artim had to jump back from the blast of heat. As he'd hoped grey smoke started pouring skyward. A lot of it was being caught in the trees, but some of it was making it into the clear. Hopefully it would be enough....

****

"Beam me down as close as you can," Victor asked Max as he stepped onto the shuttle's small transport pad. "I'll signal once I've got him. If we can't transport back up to Galaxy, I'll call for a pickup." He paused, and then looked at the others in the shuttle. "And while I'm here… none of you have permission to die – understand?"

A series of nods and verbal agreements – some hesitant, some not - passed around the shuttle, culminating in a drawled "Damn right," from Nathan at the controls.

"Good," Victor nodded. "Whenever you're ready, Max," he nodded, the transport effect taking him away as the gesture finished.

****

Artim turned quickly when he heard the familiar sound of someone materializing nearby. He breathed a great sigh of relief when he saw it was Victor.

"Thank the gods, the universe, and anything else you can think of that you're here."

Victor nodded, smiled suddenly, and offered a single word in greeting as his hands came up and, with a sparkle, something oblong began to appear in them. "Duck."

Artim promptly complied by dropping to the earth despite the howl of pain from his bruised rib. He kept an eye on Vic as apparently something was clearly up.

There was a momentary pause, the sound of a mechanical device ratcheting... and then Victor asked curiously, "Are you all right, Lieutenant? Is there something wrong?"

"No...I'm fine", Artim said as he stood up gingerly holding his side. "I just thought you saw one of those red things and were going for a grenade or something."

"No," Victor replied. "I was commenting on the fact that there was a duck - obviously a surviving descendant of some that were aboard the crashed ship - was circling for a landing out on the river over there." He pointed with the hand that wasn't holding a transport pattern enhancer pylon. "Fascinating really, out of all the creatures to survive and prosper... a duck? Who would have thought?"
- Show quoted text -

"Oh" Artim said as he looked in the direction Vic indicated. "Haven't really had time to enjoy the local waterfowl. Did run into blue over there though." Artim gestured to the blue hippo creature which was now waddling over towards Vic. "Don't worry. He's just a bit curious."

Victor eyed the approaching animal. "I don't normally do well with herbivores," he observed as he planted the pattern enhancer and switched it on. "Or any other animal, in fact; I think they know what I am on the same level that most people do but don't understand." He reached down to offer Artim a hand. "You might want to shoo him away before he gets too close. It'll take me a moment to get this thing tuned in and then we'll see if you can transport straight back up to the ship."

Artim accepted Vic's hand and pulled himself up as he wondered about what herbivores would have against Vic. Then he recalled the story Thral told him about when his pig and Vic where in the same berth. When it struck him, Artim did as Vic suggested and try to shoo it away. But it was too late. It was already intently sniffing at Victor...but seemed unconcerned or unaffected. It didn't seem to react at all except by turning its nose slightly as if to say Victor needed a shower. "Hmm, guess he's like me. He feels...whatever that thing is you do to people but doesn't seem to react. Quite interesting." As he said that, Artim reached over to pat the creature in such a way to suggest that it should move along.

Victor studied him for a moment, and then asked, "You're injured; how bad is it?"

"Nothing crippling. Strained knee, concussion, bruised rib. Nothing someone my age can't heal easily", Artim replied.

"Good, because getting you to Sickbay may take some time." Victor continued setting up the pattern enhancer, powered it up and started scanning the surrounding area. "Ready to try beaming up?" he asked, one eye on the blue animal. "If this doesn't work, we'll have to do things the hard way, and that may not be as easy on you after this side-trip."

"And what 'hard way' did you have in mind if I might ask?", Artim responded as the blue creature, seeming to realize this was good bye, looked back forlornly at Artim as he walked away, his big eyes giving a look like a very sad puppy.

"I build a catapult and launch you into orbit that way."

"I think I prefer the transporter." Artim grinned as he replied hoping Victor was being sarcastic. "Ready whenever you are".

"No one ever takes the hard way," Victor noted with an air of disappointment, and then tapped his combadge. =/\= Krieghoff to Transporter Room Three. See if you can lock onto Lt. Shivar and beam him up now, Chief. =/\=

=/\= Trying it now =/\= Chief Cannon's voice responded.

The pattern enhancer hummed as the signal filtered through it, and the familiar sparkle of a successful transport lock-on started to form around Artim.

=/\= Looks good on this end, Chief =/\= Victor reported.

=/\= It's not bad here, but I'm worried about some of these readings – it's like parts of him are trying to unlock themselves if that were possible. It might be a side-effect of the dimensional displacement effect. =/\= Her voice sounded hesitant. =/\= I'm not sure we should try it. If I lose part of him in transport, he *might* still survive – depending on what the part is – but…. =/\=

"Dimensional what?" Artim interrupted quizzically. It appeared though the conversation continued.

Victor frowned. =/\= You're the expert, Chief. If you say 'no' then we'll get him back aboard another way. =/\=

A relieved Chief Cannon responded, =/\= Then I say 'no' – I don't want to risk it =/\=

=/\=Done – and thank you, Chief. Krieghoff out. =/\= Victor turned to Artim and shook his head. "Sorry, looks like the easy way is a no-go. I guess that means we need to try something else."

"Told ya you weren't out of it yet." Liam was still hanging around and was now plopped on a log with a very smug look about him.

"Shut up." Artim replied just before he caught himself and realized that Vic probably couldn't see Liam. "Sorry, its... um... long story. Any chance of tweaking things and giving it another go?"

"It might take too much time to…" Victor's face didn't change expression, but his eyes were abruptly on something behind Artim, at the jungle's edge. "…don't turn around, don't do anything; there are a pair of the local predators moving out of the jungle behind you, " he continued as if that had been exactly how he'd intended to finish the statement. "When I say 'now' I want you to run past me on my left and make for the river. Understood?"

Artim nodded slightly to acknowledge the direction. This had just gone from great to crappy in a matter of seconds. Crappy since that's precisely what Artim was now thinking he'd be in a day or so.

Victor studied the creatures for a moment, admiring the way that they moved and the smoothness of their tactics as they began to separate to circle around and take their prey from both sides. Despite their lack of attractiveness as compared to, say, an Andorian Ice Bear, Terran wolf, or a Capellan Power Cat, they were still beautiful in their own lethal way. But beautiful or not, they were killing machines and they were here to do what came natural to them… kill.

A part of him that had been quiescent for years awoke, and he felt the thrill of the hunt, the chase, and the excitement of the knowledge that he was going to kill – or be killed – blossom within him, making him suddenly alive in a way that he hadn't been in so long that it was almost forgotten. He was alive. He was hunting – and being hunted. And he was going to win, because the creatures had made the mistake of coming after him when there was a life that was his, given to him by Starfleet to protect, on the line.

He smiled suddenly, not the predator's smile he found on his face in combat so often, or the killer's smile that he reserved for those that were about to die, but a smile that no one from the Galaxy had ever seen: his hunter's smile. It was death and life and joy at the both of them and it felt so good that he almost ached from it.

The air in the clearing changed slightly, as if it had taken on a charge and was waiting, trembling for the spark that would set the energy stored within it free in a detonation of motion and sound.

For a second, everything was suddenly still, even the wind in abeyance, waiting, watching…

…and then Victor, still smiling, said in the same conversational tone he'd used before. "Now."

As directed Artim took off running towards the river rushing as fast as his short legs could carry him. It obviously wasn't going to be fast enough if the things gave chase. Victor must have a plan because, well, if he didn't this wouldn't end well.

Behind him, there was a hum of a transport effect, an explosion of movement, a pair of odd 'thump-thwip' noises, and a sudden cacophony of snarls, roars, and outraged screams that could come from no human throat, followed by a frenzy of thrashing.

Three steps later, Victor caught up to Artim, sprinting easily, an odd rifle with a bulbous pair of empty sockets at the muzzle in one hand – a capture net weapon from the Zoology department Artim realized as Victor dropped it and the weapon vanished in a sparkle of transport effect.

"Keep running," Victor said, laughing, that same joyous smile on his face, one hand grabbing at the back of Artim's jacket to assist him over a root. "They'll tear through the nets in less than a minute, and they're faster than we are on the ground."

"Those things are pretty strong, but I concur. Better call for the shuttle. I'm quite opposed to being some critter's dinner." Artim quipped while he was running. "Oh, you got an extra weapon in there if this gets...unpleasant?"

"Phasers are no good – they have a natural shield that just deflects them, and natural armor if you try to engage them hand-to-claw," Victor advised as they ran. "That's why I requisitioned the capture-gun."

"Yeah, I noticed. But I figured if you turned them up high enough." Artim frowned a bit as he looked around

=/\= Krieghoff to shuttle teams =/\= Victor called out through the Hazard Team uniform's comsuite by way of an answer. =/\= I need immediate pickup for myself and Lieutenant Shivar. Local predators in pursuit. Home in on my signal. =/\=

"And hurry dang it!" Artim yelled in the direction of Vic's com unit.

Behind them, the cacophony of sounds broke off, to be replaced with a pair of odd hooting snarls that echoed through the trees.

"Less than a minute," Victor noted, still smiling. "And now they're calling in more of their pack to help hunt us." He laughed again, delighted in the newly-reawakened sense of life within him. "What lovely, smart, killers they are; I have to come back here after this is all over and hunt them properly."

"Delightful. To the left I suppose?" For the first time Artim got a good look at the creatures. Damn those things were ugly.

Victor eyed the path ahead, and instead pulled Artim to the right, up a slope. "They'll expect us to go straight to the water, like normal prey animals," he explained as they scrambled over a rock. "Only predators go to high ground when pursued. This'll buy is another minute or so."

"Um...might run out of ground over there really fast..." Artim had been studying the local terrain trying to figure what he would have done in this circumstance. This wasn't it.

Before Victor could answer, they broke out into the open and drew up as they realized that there were only a few meters of open space and then the ground fell away; they were on a bluff overlooking the river.

"Well," Victor said cheerfully, "that was unfortunate."

Liam, who apparently had been following Artim, was now right next to him, an ear to ear grin on his face. "Cornered. Nowhere to go. Well, nice knowing you.

Artim glared in Liam's direction then back at Vic. "Well, any more ideas?"

In the jungle behind them, sounds of taloned feet scraping on rock sounded.

"Nothing for it," Victor shrugged with a grin. "I hope you can swim – and that they really have sealed this Hazard Uniform…" He grabbed Artim's arm, pulled him forward into a run, and, as the first of the pursuing predators tore out of the jungle after them, leaped out into space.

"Dragon's Cave"
Part 1

Flight Officer Aristi Ferguson
the Dragon Lady

Impet
the Imp

*****

"Stranded anthropologist's log, stardate six oh eight one oh point oh seven...I think. It's still dark outside, and we're still moving through the forest. I don't have any way of telling time, and I highly doubt this planet's moon moves at the same rate as Earth's moon, so that's not going to be much help either. But I'm guessing it's been two hours, maybe three. The terrain is slowly getting more uneven, and the incline is a little steeper, so maybe we're approaching that cave.

"Also, I have no idea why I'm talking to myself. Again."

Sighing to herself, Aristi sidestepped yet another tree that looked just a bit too solid. The novelty of being able to walk right through trees, bushes, rocks, and just about everything else still hadn't worn off, but after the first time she'd walked right into a solid tree, she'd decided to be a little bit more careful. Now she was following pretty closely behind her guide, who seemed to intuitively understand which trees were solid and which were not (or "here-but-not" as he called them), and since then she'd managed to avoid smashing her nose on a tree or her toes on a rock.

Her thoughts drifted back to the issue of elapsed time. While Impet seemed friendly enough, she had no idea if he was going to escort her back to the Kahru's city once her task was complete, or if he was just going to leave her out here to fend for herself. In the dark, unfamiliar territory she wasn't very confident of her ability to make it back to the city, even with the survival and orienteering training she'd received as a cadet. Cardassian senses were inferior when compared with humans, and vastly inferior when compared with Vulcans, so while she had no doubt Impet was seeing a very different picture of the forest and probably knew the position of every single leaf and branch out here, to Aristi the whole area looked like a hodgepodge of indistinguishable browns and blacks.

"How much longer?" she called out to him. When he didn't immediately respond, Aristi quickened her strides for a few paces, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He stopped and turned to look back at her, curious. Probably stopped paying attention when I started talking to myself, she mused, once again wondering why she was doing such a thing. Considering her current mental state, chattering absentmindedly to herself was probably a more alarming thing than a splitting headache, but at least it was certainly less painful. At least said headache had faded away shortly after they left the city, and hadn't yet returned.

"How much longer?" she repeated.

"Cose," Impet answered, then pointed up a barely visible trail that curved up and to the right. "Verr cose." And without another word he turned and headed up the trail.

To her ears it sounded like he'd just said "varicose", but she knew that wasn't right. But, seeing no other choice at the moment, Aristi shrugged and followed.

*****

Another ten minutes or so of walking found the pair at the mouth of a cave. To Aristi the roughly man-height hole in the glossy rock at the base of what she assumed to be a small mountain appeared wholly unremarkable. Still, her heartbeat began to quicken as she came to terms with the fact that she would soon be going in there. After all, the entrance was man-sized and easily accessible, but that didn't mean the rest of the cave would be so accommodating. She could have to climb up, or down, or squeeze through tight fits, or navigate twisting passages and branching tunnels, or deal with smooth surfaces made dangerously slick by running water, or one of a thousand other potential pitfalls. As a child Aristi hadn't been much of a fan of exploring caves; now that she was an adult she found the prospect even less appealing.

And to make it even worse, it felt like this cave was breathing.

Somewhere farther up the mountain the wind whispered through the thick foliage, rustling the flat leaves of the trees in a familiar concert. A moment later the air around them began to move, sucking all the air into the cave as if some great giant was inhaling all the air...and then pushing it right back at them in a cool, slightly moist blast. The logical part of her brain knew the "breathing" was the result of changing air pressure as the wind on the mountain moved over another end of the cave system and caused pressure differences in the air inside, but that still didn't make her feel any better. Plus, it was the first real cold she'd felt since beaming down to the planet; not unexpectedly it chilled her deeper than such a temperature change normally would.

Wrapping her arms around her she began to rub at the gooseflesh, no longer caring if she wrecked Conca-Esska's makeup job. She wondered what Conca-Esska was doing right now. Impet had told her the story of this ritual; at least, the part of it that concerned her, but what did the rest of the Kahru do while they waited for news from the mountain? Was there a feast or a great celebration? Or did they simply go about their usual tasks and wait for their salvation?

Momentarily distracted by the thoughts of the Kahru, Aristi flinched as she noticed that something had brushed up against her and was now wrapping itself around her shoulders. Tensing at the unexpected contact, she soon realized that it was just Impet, who had moved beside her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. Maybe trying to keep me warm, she reasoned, even though like all his other attempts to make her more comfortable on the journey it came off as slightly weird. But, that didn't mean she couldn't at least show some appreciation. Her body still stiff, she quietly murmured, "Thank you."

In response she felt him move closer, silently pressing up against her back as he moved both hands to her arms and began to rub the skin, warming the muscles underneath. His slow, even breathing tickled the short hairs behind one ear, and after several moments, despite herself, Aristi felt her posture soften as she leaned back into him and the warmth of his body.

"How am I supposed to see in there?" she asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the area. "It's darker than black."

"Easy," he whispered. But instead of imparting some wisdom or pulling a torch out of his back pocket (or even a simple flashlight instead of a torch, which would have been nice), Impet moved his hands to her shoulders and gently, almost imperceptibly, pushed.

Together they disappeared into the blackness.

"Dragon's Cave"
Part 2

Flight Officer Aristi Ferguson
the Dragon Lady

Impet
the Imp

*****

It couldn't have taken more than ten minutes for the low light to appear, but to Aristi, moving at such a slow pace in the blackness with Impet at her back, their short journey could have lasted hours, days even. But just when she'd been about to stop and ask him what was really going on, she'd seen it.

She wasn't sure if the soft pink light was real, or if it was just a figment of her imagination, but either way it was directly in front of her so she figured she might as well keep moving towards it. As expected the light grew in strength, slowly yet steadily, until after a few more minutes (or hours or days) it grew to the point where she could actually make out some features of the rock walls that surrounded them in this place.

At that moment Impet stopped his gentle prodding and pulled away. Aristi blinked rapidly, eye adjusting to the low light just as her body adjusted to no longer having an external source of warmth so close. Holding her hands out before her she blinked several more times, watching as the individual digits resolved themselves, the smooth surfaces giving rise to skin folds, fingernails and tiny scars as her pupil widened to drink in all the light it could, before looking around the area.

From what she could tell, this part of the cave was actually a room of some sort, roughly oval in shape and maybe four meters wide at its widest point. The walls were made of a reddish-brown, textured stone, and looked to have chunks of quartz or something similar embedded into them. Holding her hands out and squinting she shuffled her way to the wall, stopping only when she could feel the cool of the stone beneath her hands.

She blinked again. The light was coming from the wall.

Craning her head forward so she could more closely examine the rough stone, Aristi realized after a moment that the light was being produced by the bits of quartz scattered throughout the room. She scraped experimentally at one piece, picking it out with her fingernail after several tries. Barely bigger than her thumbnail this piece of crystal was smooth, yet had uneven edges, and as she held it in her cupped hand it gave off an impressive amount of light for its tiny size.

"Strange," she mused to herself, pushing the crystal back into the wall until the friction between the surfaces caught and held it once more. She then slid her hands aside, unexpectedly revealing a small drawing that she hadn't noticed before. It was simple, crude almost, but the image was clear: three figures, their leader holding a torch and knife, drawn in profile as if they were marching across the stone. Nearby to the right was a second drawing, this one depicting a large red animal with long, silver claws and a feathery mane threatening the figures, while on the left was another drawing of a quartet of similar-looking red animals pouncing on a group of other figures. And beyond on each side were still more drawings.

Curious, Aristi began to move slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining each image as she came to it. Here was a picture of the red pack animals turning away from the group of people...later came the image of a larger group surrounding the tall center spire of a city, while still later there was an image of a singular person wielding a knife and threatening the feathered animal. At the end of the line was another image of the single figure, who now stood in the confident stance of a warrior, brandishing the knife in one hand and thrusting a red pelt to the sky, a bloody animal lying dead at its feet.

Eyes widening, Aristi brought a hand to her mouth. So the story she'd pieced together on the way up here from Impet's broken recollections had some degree of truth to it. She'd only half-believed his tale, especially since she had been the one taking educated guesses and putting bits together based on his reactions to her guesses, instead of letting him tell the story directly. But now it appeared that there really was some sort of legend behind this cave and this dragon, and that she hadn't just been led up here to be killed (or worse) by some crazy cannibal native.

Moving back to the beginning of the picture series, Aristi tried to recall what she'd learned from Impet so she could piece it together with the drawings. Many years ago the Kahru had been delivered to this planet from somewhere in the stars. The pack predators, or what the Kahru called the "rebbise", had constantly attacked the Kahru until three of the Kahru had ventured to the cave of the dragon, the ancestor of the rebbises, and sacrificed themselves at the dragon's feet. From then on the Kahru were under the protection of the dragon; the rebbises had remained close, but had been prevented from killing any of the Kahru. The Kahru began to build, but always kept the gift of the dragon in their minds. To keep the dragon happy the Kahru periodically sent sacrifices to the cave, and in return the dragon kept them safe from its unruly brood.

But then, many years later, tales of a savior emerged and began to spread. These tales told of a warrior with the face of a dragon but who walked like a man. The warrior would journey to the dragon's cave. Clad in skins painted like the scales of the dragon he would fool the dragon into thinking he was also a child of the dragon. Then, when the moment was right, he would strike, slaying the dragon and freeing the Kahru forever from their bondage to the creature. The Kahru would then know a thousand years of peace and prosperity.

Spinning around until she located Impet's silhouette in the low light, Aristi asked, "This is the legend, isn't it?"

He nodded once, the gesture barely visible in the low light, then raised one arm and pointed to the ceiling. "Gate Dag'n here."

Aristi followed his finger, gasping slightly as she caught sight of the tail end of another drawing, this one stretching almost the entire length of the ceiling and surrounded on all sides by more chunks of the pink crystal. The paint was a faded, yet still vibrant red; even in the low light Aristi could tell this had not been made by the same people who had made the drawings on the walls. The wall drawings were simple, amateurish work, the still vibrant paint indicating that they couldn't be more than a century old. In contrast, the dragon on the ceiling was much larger and more life-like, its incredible detail marking it as a true masterpiece. Had there been two civilizations on this planet that worshiped the beasts in the cave, then?

"The gate dragon..." Aristi continued, stepping carefully along the floor as she examined the art, taking in the elongated yet muscled body, glossy red scales, silvery claws, curling horns, and plume of red feathers stretching down its back. "No, not the 'gate dragon'," she amended to herself, "the 'great dragon'."

She stopped abruptly and looked back at Impet, who had been quietly following behind her. "It's the great dragon."

Impet nodded again. "See. Gate Dag'n."

Now standing underneath the dragon's head, Aristi looked back up, her one good eye meeting the unflinching gaze of the dragon's glowing pink eyes. They were different, and that made the whole pattern of pink quartz different, she realized after a moment. The rest of the crystal fragments were scattered through the walls and ceiling in a seemingly random pattern that she'd initially thought was a natural formation, but now that she looked again they seemed to be mainly concentrated in arches around the drawings. Stretching upwards on the tips of her toes she reached out and felt one of the dragon's eyes, marveling at the smoothness of the apparently spherical surface.

As she moved her hand away the surrounding rock made a slight crunching sound, the pull of gravity sending down a shower of flakes along with the much larger eye-crystal. Her reflexes taking over automatically Aristi shot a hand out, easily catching the small glowing crystal and sidestepping the rock flakes before they landed on her head. "I'll take that as a sign," she said, looking at the crystal in her hand, which as expected was perfectly spherical and had not a rough edge on its surface, nor a blemish within. Definitely shaped by man.

Unlike the smaller pieces, this one gave off an amazing amount of light, enough that she thought she could use it to see in the deeper areas of the cave. "Will you wait for me, Impet?" she asked, still staring at the eye.

"See," she heard Impet quietly reply from somewhere to her right.

"How long?"

"Wait nn-till dawn."

Aristi clenched her fist around the eye and looked once more at her guide, then turned to face the only other entrance to the room, the one that would lead her deeper into the dragon's lair. "Then I guess I'll see you in the morning," she said to the room. "Time to claim my destiny."

Daughter of Rebbise, part 3 (final)

Ens. Relsta

*****

Relsta fought a desperate battle against her body, but the Denobulan woman had never been able to hide her feelings, and any moment, and she knew her facial ridges would swell up from the humiliation of it all.

The worst part was the way the Ka'tin was staring at her. The lithe man had remained silent throughout the entire debacle, looking on as Kranas touched her—no horror, no amusement, not even curiosity, just narrowed, black-black eyes. Relsta wondered if she should check his ears—surely the man was really Vulcan.

There it was. Relsta felt her reddened cheeks puff up, as if on cue.

'Oh, great, I look like a big red balloon. Great, GREAT way to make a good impression, Relsta.'

"Looksee!" The excited whisper penetrated her embarrassed haze, and Relsta turned towards the voice. The woman who had come into her shelter earlier crouched at the edge of the flames, pointing to Relsta. "Rebbise-da," she breathed, and then cried out louder. "Looksee! Ees Rebbise-da!"

Just beyond the edge of the firelight, hundreds of glittering eyes blinked into existence from the darkness, their bodies obscured by the thick smoke. And now there were more voices, and out of the murmur Relsta could hear make out words—Rebbise-da, chane now, Rebbise, here-but-not…

It was like being an animal in a trap. She tensed, wanting to flee, but Kranas laid a calloused hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed slightly, choosing to believe that the gesture was meant to comfort, and not to keep her from escaping.

'Their customs are so different from mine. I must show tolerance and represent Starfleet.'

But even as Relsta tried to remain optimistic, deep inside she knew that something was horribly wrong here, as the crowd's whispers grew into a chant, and the shadow bodies moved so she could see hints of them in the firelight. Painted bodies covered in deep, ugly scars, limbs thrusting in and out of the cover of the smoke.

She wanted to run to the woman, the only one who had shown her real kindness, and beg her to explain what these people wanted and who they thought she was. Who was Rebbise-da? Why did they think she was this person? But the woman had retreated into the darkness, and Relsta couldn't find her among the circle of wild, animal eyes.

The Ka'tin raised a hand and the shadow bodies went silent.

There was a sharp jab to her ribs, and she felt, rather than saw, Kranas shove a bowl into her hands.

"Chane," the large man ordered her in a hopeful tone of voice. "Make here-but-not."

Relsta looked down at the bowl, wondering just how she was supposed to change it, if that was what he even meant.

Kranas tapped the bowl and continued helpfully. "Kranas see Rebbise-da be here-but-not. Chane rock, tree. Rebbise-da chane all dem."

Understanding was slowly starting to dawn over Relsta. He had seen her walk though things in the woods—and wanted her to do it again, like some sort of parlor trick. That was why they had brought her here; whatever Rebbise-da meant, it had something to do with that.

Except, when she pushed her fingers against the bowl, they didn't go through. With sickening clarity Relsta realized that as far as she could recall, she hadn't passed through anything since she woke up.

She couldn't do it anymore. Whatever had been happening to her had happened.

The black eyes of the Ka'tin bore into her, and now there was amusement. Cruel, cold amusement, and Relsta knew that he was nothing, nothing like a Vulcan.

'He knows. He can tell that I can't do it. But they don't know, none of them. And they will kill me if I do not do what he wants. Maybe I can make them understand...'

From somewhere inside her stomach, a cold tendril of fear wound itself up into her throat. There would be no diplomacy here, Relsta realized. The rules she knew simply did not apply. A new life and new civilization was seeking her, and it was nothing like what she had imagined.

The shadowy bodies shifted, opening a path, for...something. It was almost invisible, but the smoke outlined the shimmering body of some sort of being as it stalked towards the fire. The crowd had begun to hum, an eerie, discordant sound that seemed to infuriate the creature, which occasionally darted towards the circle before resuming its pacing through the fire. As the sparkling creature passed close to Relsta, a faint hint of musty bog gas wafted over her, and the Denobulan's eyes widened.

"It's one of the predators!" she gasped, with a darting glance towards the Ka'tin, not sure if he had understood her. He definitely had. The man's mouth twisted into an evil smile that twisted Relsta's stomach with it.

"Kahru call Rebbise. Ees all here-but-not." The Ka'tin pointed to the fire and the predator, joined now by two others, who danced in and out of it gracefully. "Like Rebbise-da. Altso here-but-not." It was the most the man had said since he had come out of his shelter, and even though he was easier to understand than the others, Relsta didn't want to hear what he had to say.

Because now she understood the reason for the similarity between their name for the predators and herself. They thought she was like them--another red beast.... Her facial ridges, her skin that flushed red so easily, the fact that she could walk though things--why wouldn't they think that?

The Ka'tin apparently didn't care what Relsta wanted. "Rebbise-da chane now," he continued coldly. "Kahru only here, no here-but-not. Teach Kahru to be here-but-not. Make-in go fire." He pointed again to the crackling blaze, and the Denobulan's heart skipped a beat as his intent became clear.

'I'll be burned alive.'

She suddenly recalled the night that she and her first husband had gone to see an orchestra featuring Denobula's best Kaduu flute player. "Look at his fingers,Vahlim," he had said, taking her hand and stroking each finger tenderly. "With all of the instruments together, you do not hear him play, but when you look at his fingers and they are moving so fast, you cannot help but hear every single note."

Relsta felt like she could hear the entire orchestra, as if she were looking at the fingers of every musician and hearing every note of every instrument. The humming continued, but the people were rustling restlessly. Some whispered in excitement, others anger. And behind it all, the fire roared, challenging her to find a way out of this. But there was no way out, no choice remained. She was only useful to them as Rebbise-da. If she couldn't pretend that she could be here-but-not, like the beasts, Relsta had no doubt they would kill her.

Her only hope was that if she didn't respond to the fire, they would believe she was here-but-not, and that it couldn't touch her.

Mustering all of her courage, Relsta centered her gaze on the inky depths of the Ka'tin's eyes.

And stepped into the fire.

"Bing Bang Bong – Ao Dai!"

Flight Officer Gryphon "Samurai" Stone

Allison Von Ernst

Pilot Korr Shadin – NPC - Maître d'

Pilot Sanoe Nani – NPC – Waitress

Pilot Min'el Hoj – NPC – Hibachi Chef (wannabe)

Location: Allison Von Ernst Quarters/ Saber Squadron Crew Lounge
===========================================================================================

"Hord stirr!! I cut off your ear if you no hord stirr!!!"

Wielding a pair of pinking shears with all the skill and grace of Arel Smith using a Bat'leth, Bing the Beautician made some final alterations on the intricate outfit.

"sorrysorrysorry," Allison gushed, desperately holding onto herself to keep from exploding in a mixture of excitement and worry.

~~Im gonna explode. ~~~ She stressed. ~~~That's it…my poor short life will be over in an explosive puff of hair and purple glitter…they'll be mopping me off the walls.~~~

There wasn't a doubt in her mind. After all SOMETHING had to come along and ruin her chance at happiness. The Universe was mean like that.

"Allison dearie….if you don't quit hopping about like that, I'm afraid we shall never be done." Mary

Poppins the Horta sat a bit away from the action, curiously imbibing a fruit-magma smoothie while she attempted to make sense of all the confusion.

For the past ten hours, the tiny crew quarters shared by Alli and Mary had been a tornado of girlish activity.

When the young blond had bemoaned the fact that an entire day was not nearly enough time to get ready for her first date, the Horta had naturally assumed she was being facetious as usual.

Now as the minutes ticked down to the final deadline, Mary had to revise her earlier estimate and conclude that human courtship rituals were exceedingly more complex than she first thought.

It started off with an hour long sonic shower with the power levels cranked up to maximum that had literally vibrated every pore on Allison's body into a clean, virtually sterile surface. Next had been a generously overdone shampooing by Bing herself in the bathroom sink during which time the Filipina had plenty to say on the subject of Alli's self-applied hair color.

There had been a lively back and forth debate on whether or not she should keep the pitch black that decorated the tips of her blond hair, a discussion that Bing finally won by refusing to continue unless the horrid color was erased.

Now fully blond again and squeaky clean, Alli had been subjected to a detailed haircut during which Bing wielded her scissors like a Warp core specialist repairing delicate parts. Shoulder length hair was now pinned up in a delicate oriental style pin with graceful locks dangling at either temple.

"Perfect…prefect." Bing had commented, tapping her chin critically with her shears.

"You no can go in shorts and t-shirt though…need new dress…I make for you. Strip now!"

"Strip?" Alli blinked, "Why do I need to…"

"You take off clothes now or I no herp you….I need take measurements. Good tailoring!"

Mary had watched with mild amusement as a pink faced Allison nervously slipped out of her shorts and shirt, standing in the middle of the room in her little Hello-Kitty undies.

Pulling out a pair of laser calipers, the Filipina beautician had scanned ever inch of her body taking accurate measurements for the proper tailoring of her masterpiece.

~~~Humans.~~ Mary sniffed, digging into her box of Chocolate coved Ball-Bearings.

~~~I'll never understand the whole modesty thing.~~~

That was four hours and several yards of green silk ago.

Now Allison, stood atop a stool in the middle of the room with arms held apart while Bing made the final alterations to her dress.

" Armost done…Armost." she muttered through the pins clutched tightly in her mouth. "You be prettiest girl there. Very hot dai!"

"Yes…you look quite lovely dearie." Mary observed, although to be fair she was hardly an expert on the subject. "Very….hot yes?"

The term was confusing to Mary whose body temperature ran in the mid 800's, but she decided to go with it anyway.

"Where is he taking you anyways?"

Allis shrugged, receiving a poke with a pin for her troubles. "I totally don't know." she admitted. "It didn't seem to come up this morning when he asked."

"I see." Mary mused.

"There….finish." Bing removed the last pin and laser-stitched the final hem in the smooth material. "You rook rike angel now." she sighed happily.

Alli blushed. "Oh thnakyouthankyou…I….I don't know how to thank…."

"No cry!" Bing interrupted pointing a stern finger. "You cry and makeup all ruined….tell me about it rater okay?"

"Okay. Alli lithely stepped down from the stool and twirled slightly in front of the mirror.

"Its beautiful…so incredibly zarky." she gaped. "The makeup…the hair….and just in time because he's supposed to be here in just a few min……"

>>BING BONG!<<

"AHHHH HE'S HERE EARLY!!!" two women and a rock screamed in unison.

For several seconds there was nothing but a bunch of chaotic hopping about in the tiny room before Bing regained her senses. "Bathroom….I hide in bathroom untirr you gone hurry hurry!"

Gathering up huge armfuls of makeup and hair products, Bing literally threw them through the tiny door before cramming herself into the bathroom afterwards, perching amidst the rubble atop the toilet with her ear pressed towards the door.

Unable to similarly scramble, Alli motioned Mary into a corner and then threw a decorative blanket over her.

"Of all the indignities…" the Horta started to protest.

"Shush!" Alli chided. "You're a decoration now….deal with it."

>>BING BONG!<<

Spinning around one last time to inspect the room for general semi-tidiness, and then taking a final look in the mirror, Alli positioned herself by the door and took a deep breath.

~~~Mom….wherever you are don't let me spuff up.~~~ she prayed.

Before the third chime, Alli delicately reached out an aluminum nail and keyed the entrance.

She was stunning.

The dress was called an Ao Dai…..a variation of the traditional Vietnamese dress with thigh high slits cut in the green silk skirt under which she wore a shimmering white silken trousers ending in cute little green sandals.

The Ao Dai retained the usual high neck, but instead of the traditional long sleeves, Bing had opted for a sleeveless variety leaving Alli's delicate shoulders bare, and her long arms covered with elbow length green silken gloves.

Her hair as mentioned was Nordic blond caught up into a green pin and with wispy locks at each temple.

The makeup was not Allison usual glitter and bubblegum variety, but rather a stunning creation of simple blushes and mascara that highlighted her pale blue eyes.

Nervous red lips trembled as she looked up at the man at her door.

"Hi." she squeaked, "What kept you?"

"Well you know... I needed to get some counseling. Um, I mean I had to give some advice to my flight mates regarding some um... complex aerial maneuvering. Strictly Pre-Flight Stuff… it's routine. I apologize if I've inconvenienced you in any way Ms. Von Ernst."

Alli made a face. "Mizz von Ernst? Hel-lo my Mother is a "ms." You taking me on a date or escorting me to the old folks home?"

The fact that he wasn't late (21 mins. 37 secs. early to be exact) failed to register in his mind as he was awe stricken by her appearance. She scarcely looked like the wide-eyed gum-popping tweener he'd met earlier today. Yes, she still looked way to young for him, and she was easily as adorable but the change in her hair and exotically Asian style to her dress served to transform her into something entirely different.. The last thing he realized was that he was horribly underdressed – oh well.

He wondered if she knew that he had been born and raised in Japan and that he had a fascination with Asian styles and cultural. Her dress looked more Korean or possibly Vietnamese in style, the name of it was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite place it, so he asked.

"Is that an… O… O Dori dress?"

"Ao Dai!" Bing almost screamed from her perch atop the toilet, but she bit her tongue instead and pressed closer to the door.

Allison merely blushed prettily and shook her head, her hair dancing gin the light. "This old thing? No silly. It's Vietnamese...not Japanese. Aren't the colors zarky though?"

She twirled a bit to show off the lines, not sure if he was admiring it...or her lines.

He was listening to her answer (no really he was), but was very distracted by her hair wisps, always a source of fascination for him. Blue lips, that wouldn't be a first for him, and he did appreciate the way they complimented her Scandinavian eyes.

Gryphon felt like investigating a little more, into the wild world of this bright eyed cutie. If she were to become one of his newest friends, it would be good to know if they shared anything at all in the way of interests.

"Our dining arrangements are still being… well arranged… Do you mind if I step in for a few minutes until I hear that our reservations are ready."

"Inside?" Alli cast a worried look over her shoulder. The room was mostly neat, the majority of her teenage debris being shoved into the locked bathroom along with one Filipina hairdresser.

The problem was Mary herself, who was huddled in the corner underneath a blanket looking for all the world like an ugly foot stool.

Shrugging noncommittally Alli waved Stone inside, a little bit miffed, but unsure on what else to do.

He eased into the room and realized it couldn't possibly have contrasted more with his own than if a barrel of monkeys had been contracted to the interior design. To one side he spied one of the most hideous looking chairs he'd ever seen. It was covered with a garish looking blanket that surely could be described as 'decorative' to someone – just not to him.

The visual intake thus far confirmed his incompatibility with Alli. In an effort to give it the old college try and show his open-mindedness, he moved across the room and plopped himself down on her "odd chair" with an air like he owned the place.

Alli remained standing by the door, shuffling a bit on her fancy sandals. She nearly had a heart attack when her date sat down on Mary, but he looked semi comfortable there so just hoped Mary didn't sneeze or wiggle or something.

Surreptitiously kicking a stray pair of undies back under the bed when Gryphon wasn't looking, she gave him a very abbreviated Grand Tour.

"Ummmm so then....this is my room.....this is my bed....my guitar....my posters....That's one's from a rock group out of Kepleck III, and the other one is a photo from back home in Iceland.." she gestured quickly .

"My bathroom is behind that door and…...and you already found my ugly footstool.......gee look at the time ....are we ready to go yet?" Her face conveyed minor panic mixed with general stomach oogy-ness.

She seemed very flustered he thought and surmised that it was first date jitters. He supposed that made sense. Gryphon also had to admit that even when flustered she was as adorable as a soft pair of fuzzy pink slippers.

He considered his own feelings at the moment and realized he wasn't as nervous as this type of situation normal made him feel. Then he determined it was probably for two reasons. Both reasons had to do with his 'interest level'. The first and most important being that he was really interested in someone else, and the second was that he wasn't feeling 'interested' in Alli in a romantic way.

So his plan of attack would be to show Alli a good date, but do his best to not hurt any feelings in the process. It was clear to him that she went to great lengths to look perfect tonight; he just hoped her excitement was driven by the energy of youth and not a misplaced crush.

Gryphon's first goal was to get off this horribly uncomfortable 'footstool' she called it, which felt like sitting on a piece of rock! He was just about to comment on her guitar when he was interrupted by his communicator.

=/\= Sir, your table is ready, and how many will be joining you this evening? =/\=

=/\= Korr, you goofball, you know its 2! =/\= Gryphon retorted.

=/\= Aw, come on boss, let me roleplay it a little will ya? =/\=

=/\= Fine fine… Is everyone all set? =/\=

=/\= Yeah, boss... I'm mean sir. Everything is set. But you should see Nani… try not to laugh, I know, I'm trying not to. =/\=

=/\= Be there in fifteen. =/\=

"Are you ready to dine, fair lady?" he inquired as he stepped forward. Gryphon's left arm was extended in a V ready to accept the hand his date. It was a position he saw his brother use many years ago, and seemed appropriate as the girl that took Jared's arm was probably the same age as this one.

Non-romantic intentions aside……the proffered arm was just about the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for young Allison. Blushing mightily and nervously biting a juicy red lip, she shyly wrapped her gloved hand about his ….wow…nice biceps.

She shook her head to regain her concentration, but the butterflies in her stomach seemed to have migrated up into her head where they made everything swimmingly confused.

This wasn't some immature little 14 year old boy sneaking smoochies behind the school building……not that a good girl like Alli had ever done that mind you…..this was a man….A real man with gorgeous green eyes, intoxicating cologne, and oh….did I mention biceps?

Giggling nervously Allison allowed herself to be led down the maze of halls and passageways that was the USS Galaxy, her green silk swishing happily.

She stood tall and proud on his arm, feeling like a real woman, all made up in her dress and her hair…a real woman!

At one point the pair passed a shocked looking Samantha Widdlestein going the other direction. Staring open mouthed as they passed, the teenager recovered quickly enough to flash Allison the 'Call Me' sign with her hand. OMG but this was gonna be hot news amongst the teenybopper crowd; Sam thought as she flipped open her phone.

In a short time the couple was standing before the door to the Saber Squadron Crew Lounge, currently a crudely made sign above it said: The Saber Dragon

To be fair, it must be remarked that Allison was a little confused at this point. Envisioning a romantic night under the stars or some such fantasy, she had been more than a little surprised to be lead across the greasy hangar deck past line and lines of deadly looking fighter craft and combat shuttles.

The leering stares of the assembled technicians and pilots tracing the lean lines of her silken form didn't help her nerves any either, but a firm glance from Gryphon kept the wolf whistles to a bare minimum.

For the first time in her short life Allison was beginning to feel a bit out of her depth here. This was an adult world she knew nothing about.

At the door at last, Gryphon cleared his throat and with that cue the door slid open to reveal a tall man in a poorly fitting suit. "The Maître d'" was wearing was clearly a fake fu man chu style mustache and a wig made to resemble a samurai top knot. Tufts of his real salt and pepper hair stuck out in a few places but, Stone didn't have the heart to tell him how ridiculous he looked.

Initial shock and disappointment broke way for a rash of giggles from Allison. Touching her gloves to her lips, she stifled the worst of the laughter. "OMG…That is like totally the spuffiest outfit ever." Clinging tighter to Stones big arm she reveled in the warmth.

"Ah our party has arrived," he announced to seemingly no one. "Let me show you to your table."

"Thank you Ko… sir. That would be great. Oh, and Shadin, you can close your mouth and put your eyes back in their sockets any minute now. Don't make me make that an order."

Nerves somewhat appeased, Allison felt a bit relieved by the obvious amateurish arrangement of the dinner. It took the edge off to see that the big dreamy man had obviously enlisted the aid of his goofy friends, an act that made him more real and approachable….and a bit silly.

Noting the underling gaping she stood a bit taller, turning a bit.

~~Oh yeah….I’m hot.~~~ she giggled to herself.

"Into the Darkness"

Flight Officer Aristi Ferguson
the Dragon Lady

*****

It's dark.

And cold.

And damp.

And the cave is still breathing.

In, out. In, out. Wisssssh, wooooosh.

Why am I doing this again?

Someone once told me that "in solitude we are least alone." I always thought that was crazy, but now I think it makes sense. Here I am in solitude, mountain above me, mountain below me, mountain all around me. The only light is coming from the pink crystal in my hand. The only sounds are the thudding of blood in my ears, the rhythmic in and out of the wind, and the quiet slapping of my bare feet against the floor of the cave. Even the smells have been overwritten by the omnipresent smell of wet rock. I have never been more alone in my entire life; for all I know the entire universe outside of this cave could have ceased to exist, winking out the trillions of lives who once called reality home. I could be the last living thing in existence, condemned to live the rest of my live with no other companion but myself. I know that's unlikely, but honestly, at this moment, there's simply no way to verify.

And yet, with nobody for company but myself, I know I am not alone.

As if no longer afraid of the cacophonous world that exists just outside the boundaries of my mind, thoughts I have not thought in many years emerge from their tiny, prison-like homes. Memories resurface, the recordings playing through my head with seemingly no rhyme nor reason. First comes Agreian Brax, his black eyes as full of mischief as ever as he wanders out of the fog, a beacon light held in his hand as if trying to help me see the way. Back when we were younger, much younger, the half-Betazoid once called me Imzadi. We haven't spoken in years; we're both too busy I guess. I wonder what he's up to now.

Behind him, my parents appear. My father Edan, bent over some sort of contraption, pauses in his work just long enough to look up. A smile breaks out on his face as he waves at me. Abigail, my mother, smiles and waves too. Her mouth is moving; I think she's trying to tell me something. I can't hear any sound, but I can guess what she's saying. Chin up, eyes open. Look, see, observe, record. Oh mum, just wait until you hear what your daughter's been getting herself into now.

As they fade out the fog of memory churns again, and when it clears I am left with the image of at least thirty people standing in a circle. Some of them are old, some are young, some tall, some short, some barely able to stand unassisted, some held in the arms of others, some male, some female...but no matter their other characteristics, they all look like me. I haven't thought about my biological family in a very long time. Even though I have a more complete memory of my youngest years than a human would, many of those memories are abstract or fragmented, and in some ways revisiting them feels like I am seeing them for the first time. There are my parents, Cronn and Misha, my brothers Parran, Nazol and baby Elim, my sisters Gilora, Siana and Ulasha, my uncle Teresh, my aunt Silara, my cousins Torvan, Saya, Verin, Eleshis...

The memory disintegrates as pain suddenly lances through my leg, and I realize that I've stepped into a shallow hole, in the process twisting my ankle at an uncomfortable angle and ramming my shin into the edge of the hole. Trying to keep the cursing to a minimum I gingerly slide the rest of the way to the ground, setting the luminescent crystal eye down so I can use both hands to steady myself as I pull my leg out of the hole and move into a sitting position on the cold stone.

And now the eye is rolling away.

Quickly, before the thing can pick up too much momentum I lean towards it, clapping a hand over it just before it rolls out of my reach. That would have been very bad if I'd let it get away, leaving me here in the blackness with even less than an insignificant source of light.

I don't know why these memories are resurfacing at this point. Sure, some people say your entire life flashes before your eyes when you die, but I'm not going to die. Am I? No, I'm not...I'm going to face an animal of unknown size and strength and somehow not get eaten, because I have to get back out of here to tell this story. Dr. Aristi Jurel Ferguson will be the keynote speaker at next year's cultural anthropology summit on Peliar Zel, I guarantee it.

Wait, did I just refer to myself as "Doctor"?

Man, that makes me feel old.

A new smell tickles my nose, one that is way sharper than the damp smell of the cave, and I almost sneeze. It takes me a minute, but I finally figure out what it is. I may have pitifully underdeveloped senses, but I know my own blood when I smell it. And a quick brush of my leg confirms that yes, I am in fact bleeding a bit.

Great.

Pushing myself back to my feet I reorient myself, keeping one hand on the cave wall and a tight grip on the crystal eye with my other hand. As long as I keep my hand on the wall I can't get lost, and as long as I don't lose the crystal I'll at least be able to see a few feet in front of me.

Deep within the cave something screeches, expectedly the discordant sound puts my teeth on edge. The muscles in my shoulders tense automatically and I spend the next several seconds forcing them to relax. Freaking out is not going to help me get through this.

The screech comes again, the sound echoing off the walls, and I can't help but wonder if the dragon knows I'm here. Maybe he smells me. Maybe he smells my blood.

Oh, that would be awesome. Really.

I suppose this is why they gave me this machete. Now if I could just...

Crap.

One hand on the wall, one hand holding the light...no hands to hold the machete.

Unless...hmm, it's about the right size...

Now why didn't I think of this earlier? (Or did I?)

If I hold open the lids over my empty eye socket...position it just right...there we go.

Wow, that was easy. Granted, the thing is a bit small, and it'll probably pop out if I get hit hard enough in the head, but for the time being I've got a glowing pink crystal eye that...well, it's like having a weak flashlight mounted on my face.

Now *that* is what I call awesome.

Now with one hand free I slide the old machete free from the scabbard at my hip, wielding it protectively in front of me. The worn wooden handle feels solid enough, and I hope the blade is just as solid; it probably won't make much difference in the grand scheme of things, but at least it makes me feel better, I guess.

Time to get back to the quest, then. Poking ahead with one foot I make sure there aren't any more holes in my path, then take a step forward. And another. And another. At this rate I'll be there in no time.

And then something crunches beneath my feet. The rock shifts as I pull back, but it's too late. I lose my balance on the crumbling floor and fall onto my back as the slide carries me forward, then down.

"I See Phased People"

Lt .Chris Daniels
Lt. JG T'Pei
PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell
Major Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
Multitudes of Tactical Lackeys

========

Galaxy CIC

========

It seemed to Chris like it had taken too long, but finally, with the jerry-rigged LRTS system providing them an idea of where to start looking, the rescue operation was underway.

The Galaxy's sensor platform provided them with a large scale view of where the subspace tracks were, and Cowboy, thanks to a quick modification on the shuttles, was able to go in, scan it a little closer, and relay that back to the holotables in the CIC.

With many of the stations manned, and all of his Combat Control and Communications operators wearing the headsets which had proved so invaluable over Romulus, Chris almost felt like he was back in combat.

Lt. Serloma, who was working the liaison between the fighters and the ship, turned to Chris.

"Hey boss, we get one more run-over by Cowboy and we should be able to lock in with our sensors. Can I send him over to that big target after that?"

Chris nodded. Vanguard 6 and 7 were already doing passes over it, but another one couldn't hurt. They had been running fighters and rescue teams all over that swatch of land for the past 20 minutes, so every bit of backup and coverage helped.

"Vanguard 1, Overlord, make one more pass over Grid 2 alpha then proceed to grid 4 and establish a left hand orbit." Overlord was the CIC's comm call-sign, designed to allow people to communicate over overt channels without giving away who was who.

=Copy that, Overlord,= came the drawling response. =Makin' the final pass over Grid Two-Alpha now.=

Chris piped in his headset. "Vanguard lead, this is Overlord actual, beers on me if you get close enough to get me a concrete size on this thing."

The pilot chuckled over the comm. =Heheh, you got yerself a deal, Overlord Actual. It'll be funny watchin' you try to keep up with me. Just sit tight, Ah'll do yer work for you.=

The young tactical chief smirked. "Acknowledged, lead." He clicked off his commlink. "Ass," he muttered to himself. He turned to the Communications station. "Ensign Shanes, give one of the rescue teams these coordinates and clear them in on that track. Crewmen Dela, inform that Captain that we're beginning to move rescue teams in." Whoever it was that was making that subspace wake, it was time to give them some attention.

========

Down over the Planet
========

Not for the first time, Max checked the power levels on his Hazard suit. The modifications made to the suits for this op made for more of a power drain, which meant
modifying the suit to accept an additional power pack. That modification cost him one of his equipment pattern buffers, but was worth it if it would help find their missing crewmates. He looked back at T'Pei to see how she was doing. He wished that the Vulcan had not dismissed the idea of wearing a hazard suit as 'illogical and entirely ill
advised'. Despite her lack of training, the added protection could really make a difference if they got into a tight spot with a pack of predators.

Nathan hummed to himself from his perch at the controls of the shuttle, his eyes periodically flicking down at his sensor readings as he guided the craft over the planet. He didn't particularly enjoy the sluggishness that came with flying in an atmosphere, especially when he was stuck piloting a slow, blocky shuttlecraft, rather than his fighter.

He looked up to make sure he wasn't about to crash into anything (as if that could ever happen), then glanced over his shoulder at Max and T'Pei. "How y'all doin' back there?" he asked. "Enjoyin' the ride?"

"I'll live, Cowboy," Max replied. In truth, he was impressed that the CAG had the small craft flying as smooth as he could. You could always thank the flyboys for the ride...

T'Pei flicked her eyes towards the front of the shuttle, but didn't respond. Just over twenty minutes had passed since they had dropped off Lieutenant Krieghoff and had begun making passes over the mysterious energy source, and the Vulcan was beginning to feel the effects of the partial phasing on her mental balance. They were minimal, and her companions would perhaps never notice the difference, but a tiny seed of...something...nagged at the back of her brain. She couldn't pinpoint the feelings that
threatened to be there, but the sensation was unique, and she wondered if this is what
Lieutenant Hunter experienced every day.

Cowboy's eyebrows rose as he looked at T'Pei, and shook his head as he turned to face forward again. "Vulcans," he muttered. He glanced down at the sensors again, piloting the shuttle with one hand while the other quietly continued to tap out notes to the song he'd stopped humming.

"Hey, Overlord Actual, we're finishin' up our final run over Two-Alpha," the pilot reported, almost as if it were an afterthought. "Y'all gettin' anything up there yet? Ah'm startin' to get bored."

========

About the time that Cowboy called back up to the CIC, one of the crewmen sitting at a sensor station zoomed in the last survey of a small part of grid 2A. As he peered at the trails of one of the wakes, what he saw excited him. The unarguable form of a human.

"Hey! I got one!"

Chris turned to the sensor station and keyed his headset. "Standby Vanguard."

========

"Standin' by," Nathan replied with an impatient sigh.

Max mock bristled at the 'get bored' comment and felt he had to say something. "Getting bored? Would you rather if, say, Thyago were here? OR is he still busy crashing on your couch?" He crossed his arms in the cramped craft with an 'I got you now' grin.

"Doc, if Twinkletoes were with us, Spockette here'd probably've nerve-pinched the both of us to death by now just to shut us up," Cowboy said with a grin, nodding his head in T'Pei's direction.

"I think you're right, CAG," Max replied with a laugh.

"Actually," the Vulcan said coldly, breaking her long self-imposed silence. "Should I find it necessary to 'nerve pinch' you, the experience will" she raised an eyebrow "—most likely--not lead to death." T'Pei paused just long enough for the implications of that to sink in. "Furthermore, in my experience, Lieutenant Carniero can offer a...unique, but surprisingly helpful perspective during away missions. His presence would be quite welcome," she concluded placidly, turning back to the window as the two men gaped at her.

Nathan blinked at T'Pei several times, finally looking at Max and frowning. He turned back to focus on his flying. "Vulcans," he muttered again with a roll of his eyes.

========

Chris was sold. It was one of theirs. Now it was time to grab them.

"Felix, clear them to drop on these coordinates to affect a rescue. Then have Cowboy continue to 4A to survey that large signal."

Serloma nodded. "Vanguard 1, Overlord. You are cleared to drop your rescue teams on the incoming coordinates. We have one signal tracking northeast. Upon completion of drop, you are cleared to grid 4A to continue search. Be advised, the signal in 4A appears to be partly embedded in the mountain."

========

Cowboy watched as the coordinates scrolled onto his navigational readout, and he keyed the shuttle's comm. "Coordinates received, Overlord. Vanguard One is en route." He quickly laid in the new course and turned the shuttle northeast.

He briefly glanced back over his shoulder at Max and T'Pei. "Y'all might wanna double-check your gear and make sure y'all're ready. Looks like we've finally found us someone to rescue."

Max's last systems check just ended and he was good to go. He wouldn't unplug himself until they touched down so that he could maintain optimal charge. "I'm good to go."

"I am also prepared," T'Pei echoed from behind Max.

It took Cowboy a couple of seconds to find a decent place to set the shuttle down near the signal, and as soon as they were on the ground he opened the hatch. "Overlord, this is Vanguard One. We've reached the coordinates. Stand by."

He looked back at the others and gave them a thumbs-up. "Ah'll wait here and keep the engine warm. Good luck."

Max unplugged himself and was first out the door, rifle first, making a full sweep of the area before signaling that it was clear to T'Pei. "Overlord, Rescue One. Feet dry," his voice crackled through his helmet as he advised that he was clear the shuttle.

==Understood Rescue One, your target is 45 meters northeast of your position, tracking west. Keep us advised.==

"Copy, 45 meters northeast, will advise. Rescue One, clear." Max cleared the active channel and turned his helmeted head turned towards T'Pei to make sure she was ready to go. "You doing okay, there?"

T'Pei shot him an indignant eyebrow raise. "I am quite adequate, as I believe I indicated before."

"Just making sure," he said, although he wasn't convinced. She looked a little pale to him, for a Vulcan...

"If I require any assistance, I will inform you," T'Pei responded shortly, striking off into the trees before Max could respond.

If I stun her and just left her here, would anyone mind? Max thought darkly to himself. The Little Bad Dude in the back of his head only snickered and offered nothing beyond that. He kept an eye on the readings he was receiving from his suit's telemetry...including T'Pei's signal and vitals.

========

Chris watched as Rescue One set off and the other rescue teams began to disperse. It seemed like contact would be made with all the teams in the next few minutes. Then would come the small matter of erasing the source that was causing the shifting. He turned away from Combat Control and walked a few paces over to Weapons Control.

"How we doing, Riggs?"

Lt Kayla Riggs turned in her chair to face her boss. In charge of the management of all of Galaxy's organic weapons systems, she and her team anxiously awaited the endgame of this rescue to see if they would get to use their toys. Orbital bombardment was one of the few tricks that, despite being one of the more dramatic, emphatic, and downright cool displays of what a starship's offensive systems was capable of, it was seldom used.

"We've got the forward torpedo tube on a one minute alert. All phaser batteries are spun up and the BFG"--tactical speak for the Phaser cannon--"has it's capacitors charged. Just waiting for something to unload on boss."

Chris nodded and walked back to Combat Control.

========

"Be quiet," T'Pei hissed to a glowering and angry Max.

200 meters from the shuttle, the Vulcan had abruptly halted, jerking the medic to a stop with a bruising grip on his armored arm.

"What the f--"

T'Pei tightened the hold her right hand had on his bicep, and roughly stopped his sputtering with her left in front of his helmet. After a moment, the man relaxed, realizing that she was manhandling him for a reason, and the Vulcan let her fingers drop from where his mouth would be.

"Lieutenant Daniels' coordinates are just ahead," she murmured. "I can hear...chanting. Many voices. I do not believe that our crew member is alone."

"I don't hear anything, and my sensors are not picking up anything either," Max whispered back. He had already decreased the broadcast volume on his mic, though.

"My hearing is far superior to yours," the Vulcan countered. "Alternatively, it is possible that my partial realignment is allowing me to perceive sounds that you cannot, due to your equipment."

"I see," the Medic. Indeed, the readings that he was getting on her were becoming more erratic, enough to be noticeable. "I knew you were being affected by that field."

"I have been noticing the effects for some time now. They will no doubt increase, to some degree, the longer we stay on the surface."

"Then we need to get a move on, otherwise I'll be looking for you in addition to the rest of them."

"That is unlikely. It is probable that it will become more difficult for you to see and hear me, but the device that Lieutenant Kara'nin designed should keep me from realigning completely." T'Pei considered the box that was the only thing tethering her to this reality. "Until we are certain, however, prudence dictates that we exercise caution."

"We can do caution," Max offered, before the beep of T'Pei's comm badge interrupted them.

=="Rescue One, Overlord. Be advised, we have a contact moving towards you. Range looks to be about 100 meters and closing from the north."==

"Acknowledged, Overlord. Rescue One out."

T'Pei and Max locked gazes, the former pointing to the thick trunk of a nearby canopy tree that would provide good cover. The medic nodded, and they separated, crouching in the thick undergrowth and waiting for visual contact.

Within half a minute, T'Pei's sharp hearing picked up the sounds of something crashing through the brush, and another noise—heavy breathing? Moaning? It all sounded distorted, almost like hearing a sound through water. The Vulcan glanced at Max, but although the medic looked completely focused and alert, he did not appear to be able to hear the noise. If that were the case...he would not be able to see whoever was making
it, either.

As far as Max was concerned, he was able to discern that something was either happening or going to happen. He just didn't know what it was.

The noises had almost reached them now and T'Pei readied her phaser. There was a good chance that the being was part of the Galaxy crew, but given what she knew of the planet's predators, then it could be something far less amicable.

In her peripheral vision, a tree suddenly shimmered in and out of existence. The Vulcan jerked her head 45 degrees to the left to follow the path of a humanoid sized mass of sparkles as it moved past her and Max. The being was clearly distressed, moving at a high speed, but stumbling as if it were injured or exhausted. And despite the warping of the sound, its breathing was ragged and it sounded as if it—'no, she. It is a female,' T'Pei realized—was sobbing.

The Vulcan stood up and moved into the blurry woman's line of sight, assuming she could even see her. "Crewman, please stop!" she called. "We are here to assist you."

There was a garbled scream of shock as the form twisted and fell to the ground. Now that she was still, T'Pei could more clearly make out the outline of a tall female, and the sparkles resolved themselves into flashes of color—a blur of pale skin, black and blue uniform and deep red that she knew did not belong there.

To Max it appeared as if the Vulcan was pantomiming helping someone up. It would have been amusing if it weren't for the gravity of the situation. He deduced that she must have found one of the missing people in her slightly phased state. He stepped up closer to see if he could get any type of anomalous readings.

"Are you injured, crewman? We can..." T'Pei trailed off as the woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her in a chilling, not quite corporeal embrace.

"T'Pei, you came."

The Vulcan woman froze in complete shock. Nobody would ever presume to hug her, except...

"Relsta?"

========

Back in the CIC, the damning evidence had been presented that the large object semi-embedded in the mountain was indeed the source of the subspace field. With no other feasible way of getting those shifted quickly out, the matter had been discussed ever so briefly, and Captain T'Vara had approved the Tactical Department to take it out the old fashioned way.

Serloma broadcast over the guard frequency to the planet.

"All away teams. Be advised, orbital bombardment of the following coordinates will commence in 2 minutes. Maintain a 500 meter clearance from the target until weapons fire has ceased. Overlord out."

Chris watched as a countdown clock started. The plan was to use the main phaser banks to try and knock it out. 3 beams of energy should be enough to crack the aged hull and stop whatever was emanating that field. He walked over to the main control table and looked over at the Weapons Control station.

Riggs turned to Chris. "Weapons firing transferred down to the CIC, boss. Awaiting your access code input and then we will be weapons free."

Daniels nodded. "Build your firing solution and ready batteries 1, 2, and 5." They'd be using both saucer arrays and the one slung under the engineering hull. He input the code and waited for the time to count down.

"Target locked."

"Batteries ready."

3...2...1. Chris depressed the trigger button, causing converted energy to stream forth from the ship's hull and down to the planet, a triangle of destruction angled perfectly down at it's target.

"Direct hit...but the field is still up."

"Atmospheric interference??"

"Negative..."

"Did our people unphase?"

"No signs on bioscanners."

"Should we prepare to fire again?"

Chris stopped and thought. The phasers should have ripped that hull apart. "Weapons hold, everyone. Get me Rescue One and Vanguard One on the Comm."

========

While T'Pei spoke to some apparition that he couldn't see, Max moved off and away from 'them'. Just as he was about to check in, his helmet's Comm came alive with Daniels' voice. "Go for Rescue One," Max acknowledged.

"Our efforts to blow up whatever it is that's generating the subspace field didn't work. We're going to need you guys to go in and take a closer look."

"Understood," Max acknowledged. "Also, I believe we may have found one of the
missing crew members. Will advise as soon as I can ascertain their identity."

=Copy Rescue One. We're sending down the coordinates of the field source.=

"Lt. T'Pei," Max called out, "can you identify which crew member that you are in contact with?" She was still in her pantomime and speaking in low tones to...whoever was there. At his voice, she looked up and then guided the person over. Given the Vulcan's twisted posture, he or she must have been leaning on her for support.

"The crew member we have located is Ensign Relsta, of the Sciences department."

"Lt. Daniels, did you copy?"

=Got it all...and you should have the coordinates now.=

"Acknowledged." To T'Pei: "Lieutenant, they want us to move in and check out the cause of the subspace field. Daniels sent us the coordinates."

T'Pei scanned the tricorder that the medic handed her. "Directly north 2.42 kilometers. Are you physically capable of a journey of this length?" she asked, turning towards the invisible ensign. Her eyebrow jerked up almost immediately, and Max wondered what the answer had been. The other woman was clearly upset; T'Pei was now trying unsuccessfully to calm her down. "For what reason? Slow down, Relsta. It is impossible to follow your recommendation if I do not comprehend the logic behind it." That apparently worked, Max concluded, because T'Pei fell silent, intently listening to the invisible ensign.

After a minute, Max began to get impatient. Either the ensign could walk up there or she couldn't, they didn't need to debate the issue. As the medic was about the say something, T'Pei finally spoke again. "Fascinating."

"Care to enlighten us, Lieutenant?" Max inquired. He felt a sense of urgency in regards to finding the machine responsible for the phasing phenomenon.

"Ensign Relsta believes she knows where the machine is located."

"That's good news."

"Indeed," T'Pei agreed. "However, there is a complication we were not aware of."

'Of course there's a complication', Max thought dourly. "And what would said complication be?"

"In this dimension, this planet is not uninhabited."

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