USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60902.08 - 60902.14 |
Logs |
| Fallout (Chris H. and Robyn) For the first time since the days of Surak, Vulcan was facing the very real possibility Very fucking angry. And, before the fires had finished burning in Marau, well-placed Hawk operatives all over The operatives had evidence to support this story--plenty of it. 'Reliable' eyewitnesses The public hadn't thought to ask how the sensor data had been recovered from a ship that ======================== "...I must reiterate my previously stated concerns with neutrality. It would seem that "Minister Satok, as I stated before, we do not yet have concrete evidence that the attack Torik had assumed leadership of the High Command in 2399, just as the Federation began Satok shook his head. "Minister Torik, this is hardly the time for such deliberation. We "The Prime Minister has declared a state of emergency, the Senate will be meeting in an "But uncorroborated." Fleet Captain Sorena chimed in. At 60, she was extraordinarily "The Doves..." "Are unlikely to be responsible, at least directly." Sorena cut the minister off. "Following "You are surely not suggesting that a Vulcan was involved in this." Despite the calm in "No, I am not. However, as our sensor array was compromised, we are forced to rely on sensor "They have people on the planet already," noted a Vulcan minister near the back of assembly. "We have restricted the Hercules personnel to unarmed medical staff only, and they The room of staid Vulcans broke out into murmuring. Accepting a medical team was one thing. "What does Captain Daniels have to say about the situation?" Torik's question was quiet, "He has not responded to our hails, sir," one of the staff members replied. "We have only "Contact the Hercules. Inform them that I wish to hear what the Captain has to say tomorrow. Torik stood, the remainder of the group rising with him. "We will not judge this situation until we Once More, with Feeling 3: Where do we go from here? Lt. Cmdr. T'Pei "The Council has been endeavoring to contact you," T'Pei said, addressing Chris' back "I know." Chris finished folding a shirt and placed it on top of the rest of his laundry. T'Pei moved out of the doorway into the room, her demeanor calm and composed. "Well, something tells me your logic loving cohorts won't accept a simple 'we didn't do "Scans indicate that the device was triggered from the planet, no doubt transported down Chris grunted in agreement. It was an untenable situation that, unless the Vulcans were "Any trace of a comm signal or anything that would link them?" T'Pei sighed. "Yes, unfortunately there was a recorded comm signal. The origin is "That's impossible. Bolen is a Dove. He was on the Miranda until six months ago." Chris "I know," T'Pei nodded, closing the distance between them and softly placing her hand on "--So what do you think the odds are that the Council believes us if we don't find "Chris..." She could feel him getting angry, despite the utter calm in his voice. T'Pei He took a second to process what she just said. "So what do you think we should do?" "You and I will meet with the Council, and we will stay until we find proof of our "Potentially." It was all he said as he walked over to his, in stark contrast to the one "She got beat up over Earth and had to run. Last reports had her stranded only a few "--No." T'Pei didn't let him finish. She knew exactly what he was going to propose. "No, "And I can be back here in less than a day. We leave a triage team here to work with the "If we leave, it will appear to be a confirmation of our guilt." "We didn't do anything T'Pei! I'm not going to sit here and be persecuted by the Vulcans T'Pei shook her head, feeling her eyes slip closed. This conflict would never end. If "Well then get down there and tell those supposedly rational brains on the council that "Chris..." She kept her voice low, trying to calm him, as she usually could. "I cannot "You need a stance to argue from? How about that at the same time this little thing went T'Pei's hand slipped from his shoulder, suddenly a heavy weight she could not support. It Instead, he reached over her and pushed a button on the PADD, showing the reports, from "You think that's reason enough now? Now do I have your permission to go after her? Is T'Pei swallowed, her tongue pressed violently against the back of her throat to hold back Chris' initial reaction was to step right into T'Pei's face...close enough that they were "How dare you. You stand there and lecture me about what's right and logical. I do what As soon as that last sentence came out, Chris wished he could retract it. T'Pei froze, her eyes flashing brightly for one brief moment. Then, as if it had never "You are correct, Captain. It is entirely your decision, and my remarks were uncalled Chris' eyes stayed fixed on hers, more than a small tinge of guilt in them. Had he not "I apologize, Commander. My reaction was out of line." "An apology is unnecessary, Captain." Chris had hoped for more of a reaction. "Very well, Commander. Permission granted. Any questions?" "No, sir. "Then you're dismissed." It was curious. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him, but somehow, the "T'Pei." "Yes?" She said, staring out into the corridor. He walked up to her and put his hand on her arm, reaching for whatever closeness they had "Chris..." ~You don't have to do this. Stay here, with me. Don't die and leave me alone. I need you.~ But instead of saying any of those things, she just nodded slightly, choked out "I will, "Things that are... Yet to be?" Part Four For'kel Arvelion
If this was a Tri-D presentation, here was where the dramatic, desperate musical numbers would take over. For the second time in about an hour, For’kel’s world was completely black and devoid of any sense of the physical world. Blissful unconsciousness… it must have been why he enjoyed sleeping so much. Like all good things however it was to come to an end. His senses began waking up to the horrid reality of the predicament in which he now found himself. Excruciating pain began shooting up and down his body, the concussive effects of the explosion causing more than sufficient damage to insure the Colonel would be off his feet for a considerable time. Next was his hearing… the trauma induced ringing slowly but surely subsiding, being replaced at first, in part, by the muted sounds of phaser fire and screaming. Next came smell and taste, probably because of their physiological links. The acrid odor of burning vehicles, hulks of metal twisted and ablaze, of singed flesh and the misty spray rising up from one of Cardassia’s few natural rivers below them… he could taste the humidity, the soot, all circling in one grand affair of sensory overload. Finally he forced his eyes open, temporary blindness soon wearing off. Dazed and confused, he began looking around to get some grasp of the situation he was in now. That’s when he felt two large hands grab his hazard suit by the shoulders and pull him out of the wide open, and totally exposed area he was in. His teeth gritted shut as the incredible pain, which had subsided a bit due to acclimation, had reasserted itself with vigor. He could tell he was hurting badly… his legs broken, his femur fractured, he could feel the growing, eerily comforting numbness of paralysis as he tried moving anything below his waist… an effort which ultimately proved invain. Oh yeah, they were in deep trouble. He felt himself stop, and looked over to see Ugahlo, probably the last Marine standing, doing exactly what one would expect a brave and honorable Marine in their position to do. Fight like hell. The bulky, muscular, dark-haired Terran from Africa fought with the zeal and ferocity of his tribal ancestors. The Iso laid at his feet, spent of ammunition. He put down the type II, from which he had fired several shots while rescuing his commanding officer, and went back for his SSW. It seemed no one was coming to assist them. For’kel didn’t dare think about why Ugahlo was alone. For once, even he began wondering if it wouldn’t just be easier to take his own life rather than fall into the hands of the enemy. He heard Ugahlo make some kind of sound, a swear most likely, as he discarded the SSW in his hands… firing chamber smoking from over-heating and power-cell indicator dead from drainage. The man’s courage and bravery was motivating… and if Fork wasn’t having trouble breathing, opening his eyes, or moving any of his appendages, he would’ve been stirred to action. As it was however, he was having an extreme amount of difficulty just keeping his eyes open, and taking the next breath. Then, when one thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, Murphy struck again. This time in the form of a bright red beam burning a fist sized hole through the big African’s face. Cue the end of times musical theme, whatever it may be. If you listened carefully, you might even be able to hear the sound of the trumpeters announcing that one more hero was reporting in for that tour of duty in heaven. He had seen the shot. Fork didn’t need to touch the gooey mess of brain matter, blood, and liquefied tissue and bone that remained of Ugahlo’s head… the portion of it not permanently phased out of their continuum of existence. It took a good second for the muscles of Ugahlo’s body to release, sending the giant of a man down onto the ground. No, he didn’t need to touch the goo to know the man was dead, but as if death was giving him a gentle reminder that he or she would be with him shortly, he felt some of the warm sludge pool up against his right arm. He wanted to scream out, wanted to go out in a blaze of glory… to force the guerillas to kill him too, but for some reason he couldn’t. He wanted to close his eyes, to feel the warm, welcoming embrace of the Prophets, but for some reason he couldn’t do that either. Be it will, faith, fate, or the qualities of leadership drilled into every Starfleet officer, he simply couldn’t accept it. The Stagnorian forced himself to look, to get an accounting of his Marines… Snap was dead, a long and jagged piece of metal sticking out of his forehead. Crackle and Pop, far away from his perspective, were a good five dozen meters or so from his position. He saw Crackle groan… one body among many strewn across what was left of the bridge like humanoid confetti. Pop, ever the Marine, was crawling for something. It must’ve been his rifle… the Colonel couldn’t take his eyes off the bloody stump where his leg used to be. He didn’t even notice the trio of shadows encroaching on their position. Men, on their feet, clad in makeshift uniform and body armor and armed. One of which had no arm, the sleeve of his black uniform pinned up. The infamous Crell Moset himself. Flanked by two of his guards, the hero of Cardassia, scourge of Bajor, villain to most and tragic character to all made his way towards what remained of the Marine team sent after him. The best that Starfleet had to offer, the ones who had hunted him ceaselessly for so long… the assassins who went after him before, and whom had actually succeeded in killing his son, now lay amidst the bodies of his guerillas. It had cost him everything: his life, family, and quite possibly even the cause to which he had devoted everything he had in life, toppling the lap-dog government of Garack and reinstituting in its place an efficient, well organized governing body similar to the old, pre-Detapa ways… one free of alien influences and foreign concerns. One that was exalted by its people as a cause of pride, and one that protected them to insure something like the Triad war ‘never’ happened again. Had psychologists and counselors been made aware of the events that unfolded in the long hunt, they might have tried humanizing him as a way of understanding; pointing out that the man was raised in a very disciplinarian society that emphasized the state over the individual, that he was bread towards strong role models, and that the horrors he witnessed during the occupation of Bajor, the Dominion War, and the T’Kith’kin occupation of his native Cardassia made it virtually impossible for this to have happened in any way but the way it had unfolded. To Fork though, he had always been just another frightened, scared xenophobic terrorist in desperate need of a size 13 and a half Starfleet Marine Corps standard issue combat boot firmly planted against his leathery ass (coincidentally, Fork had two examples of such footwear). It was people like him that caused there to be a need for people like Fork’s Marines to be far away from anyone and anyplace they loved. He hated the son of a bitch. What happened next didn’t surprise him, and probably shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. Moset walked straight towards Pop, and kicked his rifle out of Erwin’s reach. When Erwin went for his knife, a heavy Cardassian heel came crashing down on his wrist. “You think I have forgotten, didn’t you?” Moset sneered, gripping at his armless sleeve. “You thought that no one would ever find out? That I would not find out, Starfleet dog?” An evil, maniacal smile spread across the leathery grayish-green lips plastered to his face. “Years ago I swore I would avenge myself against you Marine; to repay you for your handiwork.” Cruelty sprang from him like water from a geyser as Moset kicked the bloody stump that used to be Pop’s right leg, causing a pain so great even the hardened Angosian super-trooper screamed in agony. “Now I see the playing field has been leveled. The thing is, I grow tired of this game… and I have no need for a vendetta to find me.” Moset aimed his hand phaser at the Marine and without hesitation or delay pulled the trigger, vaporizing him and guaranteeing there would be nothing for anyone to take home to the man’s family. Taking their cue from their leader, Moset’s body guards unloaded several long bursts into Crackle, executing him like a lame dog. Then there were just two. Fork didn’t have a weapon ready, which didn’t matter. He knew he was going to die today, even if he had a weapon, the fighter above them, standing watch over its master, guaranteed that he would be cut down before he could ever take aim. His head flopped to his left as he fought the pain and exhaustion to find Leah. She was hit too, and in bad shape. She had managed to drag herself several meters, protected by the cover afforded by a flipped over tank. He didn’t have any clue of how bad it really was, but it was obvious she wouldn’t be able to get up. He would never even be able to buy her the time to escape if he could. Their eyes met, her beautiful aqua colored two-tone green/blues staring right into his own. He reached his hand out. He did not want to face death alone… an universal quality. Now would be the time for the ‘second chance’ music to kick in, energizing harmony rippling from ear to ear. The hovering hawk above the battlefield exploded in a gigantic ball of flame and metal splinter. The phoenix like apparitions which replaced it were fighters, Starfleet Fighter Corps fighters… the ships that belonged to none other than Nathan “Cowboy” Everett and Ella Gray. Lady luck had forgiven his digressions. The three Cardassians whirled about at the sound of the explosions, opening fire on the Federation fighters. He could hear Nathan’s calm voice over his combadge, but his thoughts were elsewhere. For’kel didn’t hear him… but he knew that Moset was too close for the fighters to shoot at him without killing the Marines too. His eyes moved to the fighters momentarily before darting back to Leah, pleading with her to forgive him for the order he was about to give. His hand now outstretched for apologetic comfort. She looked back at him, and the look in his eyes must have been unmistakable. With what was very nearly the last breath of life she had, she made the final stretch to clutch onto her type II, and having no shot of her own threw it to For’kel, sliding it across the deck. The Prophets bless you at the strangest of moments with the most incredible, wonderful, and spectacular of gifts. This was one of those moments, and Leah was one of those gifts. Despite the darkness, the dread, the inevitability of death, she had reminded him of something he had so often told others, but had forgotten himself. They weren’t dead yet, and they still had a mission to accomplish. He gave her one, last, understanding smile, before gritting his teeth, taking the weapon, and preparing to make use of it. She had stayed up just long enough for him to look elsewhere, then allowing herself to collapse back to the deck, hand clutching her abdomen. He struggled to breath, slow and steady, as he fought to aim his weapon with his shaky hand, every muscle in his body burning with unimaginable pain as he moved himself into an ever so slightly better firing position. He brought the weapon to bear on the thug with the squad support weapon, training telling him that he was the greatest threat at the moment. The shields on the fighters continued to buzz with weapons impacts. They wouldn’t last forever, but they could take a considerable amount of punishment from small arms. ‘Prophets don’t allow my aim to falter now!’ He thought to himself, with a sucking breath he steadied his hand and pressed the diode. Like a thunderbolt from the hand of Zeus himself, the yellow Starfleet phaser beam streaked through the sky. Its aim was true, striking its target between the shoulder blades. Set to level 10, it was most certainly lethal. The man dropped instantly. The sound of the phaser blast didn’t go un-noticed. Moset and his other henchman turned to see what the hell was going on. The look of surprise and horror on the old man’s face was priceless. He immediately went to aim his phaser. But even injured, practically dying, and exhausted, the fairly young Stagnorian Marine was a quicker draw than the older Cardassian surgeon turned guerilla. Like the long arm of justice reaching out light years and across multiple star systems to deliver a well timed bitch slap, the next beam cut through Moset’s chest, vaporizing everything from the bottom of his shoulder blades up to the base of his neck. Moset’s body had deflected the beam just enough so that the man behind him caught the thermal effects of the same shot, melting away his face in a matter of nanoseconds. Both men died, their bodies plummeting to the ground. Moset’s head rolled clear of the rest of his corpse, stopping against another body, that same look of surprise and horror cemented on his face. It would’ve made a neat little trophy if only the Colonel had brought that box full of dry-ice they’d requisitioned just for this circumstance. Cue languid closing music. The second shot was all that For’kel had in him, so it was a good thing it took care of the remainder of the problems. The type II dropped from his quivering grasp, and his arm, under its own weight, fell to the ground. It was finally over. The innocent had been protected, the Quadrant was safe once again, truth, justice, and the Federation way had prevailed once again. After all the hard work and sacrifice, they had finally completed their mission. Billions of lives saved, an ally’s government now stabilized, and all at the cost of just 5 Starfleet Marines. A net gain for the United Federation of Planets! It was completely an inappropriate time, but his body just needed to release the tension. Wheezing and coughing, and in spite of himself, he couldn’t help but laugh. Above him, the sound of thrusters from Starfleet Marine Corps Hoppers blanketed them. The Marines roped down, and secured the area. Behind them a medical team which rushed amidst the Marines. “We did it, Leah.” A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he forced himself to stop laughing. Fork continued fighting to breathe, even forcing himself to at least sit up. It was the closest thing to getting to his feet that he was capable of at the moment. Gravity however soon won that fight. “Leah?” He asked when there wasn’t a response, ignoring the doctors and nurses. The last thing he saw before blacking out again was Leah, in a pool of her own blood, being worked on by a medic. CPR, ending with the woman pounding on her chest… Leah’s beautiful eyes seeming to stare back at him, but gone was the twinkle of mirth, of life that he so… admired. They were vacant, empty, devoid. “For’kel?” Fork shot up when he heard the unexpected voice, his breath shallow and rapid, his heart pounding as if aiming to free itself from the prison of his chest. He was shocked by how easy it was to move, then by the softness of the material he was on. Finally, after too long a moment of complete disorientation and terror, he recognized the confines of their bedroom, and the voice of his wife. A soft touch brought his attention to the gorgeous woman next to him, her figure ever so beautifully bathed with errant lunar beams. “Are you all right, darling?” He nodded. “You?” She nodded. “Nightmare?” He nodded again. She took his hand, sliding her fingers into his. “Flashback?” He didn’t answer, and she knew that meant it was. “That’s the second time this week love. Maybe you should consider…” “I’m not seeing a counselor.” For’kel cut her off adamantly. “I can handle this on my own.” “There’s nothing wrong with…” “I’m fine, really.” His response was almost curt, a correction he made with an apologetic smile afterwards. “I’m sorry, I’ll be all right, I just…” “Eris to Commandant Arvelion. I apologize for disturbing you at this hour Commandant, however the Governor has requested an emergency meeting of all advisors.” He felt his wife’s lips against his shoulder, and her arms wrap around his stomach, as he sat up to answer. “What’s this about?” The feminine voice responded with an all too calm reply. “Long range sensor telemetry indicates a massive explosion in the Sol system has occurred approximately one hour and thirty two minutes ago. Earth has been destroyed.” "In theory..." Th'Kiss K'aa "Greetings Comrade" Le'on said to the oversized lizard above him as he The Gorn had to bend down to take the small device, and even with his The diminutive cat shrugged. "Ran into T'risia and Lee off of the old "The younger Jaxxom", K'aa rumbled as he examined the details on the Le'on nodded "Bad enough to start lobbing torpedoes at each other and "Yessss..." K'aa drawled lazily as he looked up from the PADD. "That Le'on arched a furry eyebrow. "Interesting how exactly Comrade?" he "If I'm not missstaken... and I sseldom am, Leon....", K'aa spoke with "I hear a 'but' or a 'however' rattling around that reptilian brain of "What are your relationsss like with the Klingon Empire", the large The cat shrugged. "I got my contacts." He said. "They might not be "Wee need to go beyond mere Hawk and Dove infighting. It hasss.... "Just what kind of weapon are we talking about here?" "One shipyard.... one shot - hrrnnnn... shielded or not. Le'on chuckled. "You are joking? Da Comrade?" he asked with an amused "If you can't think big my friend... think lotsss", K'aa answered. Le'on's furry eyebrows went up and suddenly he wished that he'd put in "It'sss all a matter of conductivity and resssissstance", the Gorn "Da... Theory being key word here..." The cat groaned and slapped a paw K'aa gave the diminutive Caitian a sharp, sideways glance. "Le'on... "Ahhhh. The light dawns..." Le'on said, now understanding. "So when do "When the lassst weld hasss been ssealed, and the lassst die isss “Aftermath”
Colonel Branwen London, commanding USS Trafalgar Lt. Colonel Wayne “Biggs” Duke (NPC by Betred) Lieutenant Jennifer Adams (NPC by Aaron) Ensign Rowena London (NPC by Betred)
(follows immediately after “Saboteur”) -----------------------------------------------
<USS Trafalgar Bridge>
Colonel London finally exhaled. “Have you told the doc to keep her now? He and I will have words; he should never have let her go. Casualties? Who did we lose?” It was the worst part of command.
"The prisoner escaped after taking out two squads of my men,” replied Duke. “It appears he had help from on board -- there is a dead man down there that needs a forensic examination when Doc Sentara gets done treating the wounded. Helped Man'darr escape and participated in the fire fight." He limped over to the command station. “The security area is pretty shot up,” Biggs continued. “Who the hell attacked us?”
“Man’darr’s bitch of a sister. They got away. The ship is pretty banged up and we will need repairs before we can rejoin the action. Helm set course for Vulcan, best possible speed.”
Duke nodded at Bran’s reply. This certainly complicated things. He moved closer to Bran and lowered his voice. “I need to see you alone,” he said, nodding towards her ready room.
She nodded. “Any emergencies, contact me immediately. I will be in my ready room.” She preceded him there.
As soon as the doors closed, Duke grabbed Branwen and spun her around to face him. "Thank Christ you're all right," he said, before crushing her lips with his own.
She didn’t have a chance to say anything and only with the greatest determination was she able to push him away from her. “Duke, hon, we need to keep our wits. Are you sure you are okay and Rowena. I was so worried here on the bridge not being able to help at all.”
Duke growled, "My wits aren't lost." He produced a hypospray the doc had given him when he dropped Ro off at Sickbay. "Here, you need to take this, doctor's orders. Sentara gave me a booster when I dropped off Ro -- she'll be fine, just needs some rest."
She took it without complaint. “Is he getting closer to a cure?” She asked. “Is it true that Man’darr could have killed her?” The colonel shivered.
"Yeah, he could have easily snapped he neck like a chicken. But he didn't -- don't know why, but he didn't. Oh -- our Intel prisoner is dead; looks like she shot herself. Not exactly sure how that went down." Duke shrugged of his armor and sat down gingerly, respecting the wound in his ass.
"Bran, I know you're the Boss, but either kiss me or get me a drink, will ya? I'm one beat up Marine." “Are you sure you are alright? Did the doc check you out?” Bran asked a little suspicious as she went to get his favorite drink. “He let Ro live while he could have killed her. Why? I don’t understand that man. If he thought we killed his lover? He had much more reason now then when he killed my son.”
Duke took a swig of his drink and sighed contentedly. "Thanks, lover -- that hits the spot. Honestly Bran, I thought your daughter was a goner. She charged the man, screaming like a banshee; not sure any of her shots were on target. Man'darr was in a rage; I could tell he was once pissed of son of a bitch. He grabbed her, starting choking her, then stopped. I had him in my sights then, but he tossed Rowena like a rag doll at me and was beamed out. We need to be careful if we go after his ass again."
She exhaled. “Why?” I don’t get it. And you bet Rowena will get a talking to from me. What was she thinking? And what was the doc thinking letting her go?” She started to pace frustrated.
"Doc let her go because she had a duty to the ship and she wasn't contagious anymore. Seems like her Hydran half was able to fight off the infection -- so he's using her blood to try to develop an antidote. He couldn't talk much, they're kind of busy down there." He struggled to stand up, finally making it to his feet. "I've got to see to my men." He eyed Branwen critically. "And you need to change -- you looked a damn sight better in that red dress, and my old fatigues are doing nothing for your figure."
“But he knew I wanted her held for he safety; I could care less about the contagion and he knew that.” Bran watched him. “You are not alright are you? Go to sickbay before you even try to get back to duty and that is an order, mister!”
"All right Colonel, keep your panties on. I'll go to Sickbay; most of the men I need to see are there anyway. And if all our romantic dinners are going to end this way, we ought to stick to fast food. Give me a call when you're free." He headed for the door.
“In fact I will join you. I need to talk to the doc and to my daughter.” And make sure you get there, she did not add out loud.
"All right -- but if we get trapped in a turbolift, I'm not to be held accountable for my actions," chuckled Duke. He didn't envy the ass chewing Sentara was about to get but know the scrappy doctor could hold his own. As for Ro, she wasn't going to be talking to anyone for a while, but mamas must be mamas.
“We should be alright now.” Bran said with a slight smile as they entered the bridge. “Lieutenant Adams, I will be in sickbay checking on the wounded if anybody needs me.” After that they entered the lift.
"Yeah, but what if I don't want to be," said Duke, returning the smile.
“Too bad. We happen to be working right now.” She said sternly but her eyes were twinkling.
"Still want to get married?" he asked.
“Oh yes. You will not get rid of me that easily, lover. So yes.”
"Well, we better do something about that quick, 'cause I'm gonna need someone to bandage my ass," replied Duke with a grin.
“I knew you were hurt, you scoundrel! I will ask doc to keep you there.”
The lift arrived at the proper deck, and Bran strode out. Duke hobbled after her. "I can rest better in my quarters -- or yours," he said.
“And me play nurse? It will probably get to that. They need the beds for the severely injured.”
<USS Trafalgar, Sickbay>
“Doctor, how are things?” She asked her tone not exactly friendly.
Sentara was triaging the incoming wounded. The worst cases, from the Marine's firefight had already been sorted and were receiving care; he was down the relatively minor injuries at this point.
"Ah, Colonels," he said. "Rowena is fine. I've repaired the damage to her neck; she just needs some rest. Colonel Duke, if you'll lay down on the table, I'll take a look at what's making your ass bleed."
Bran winced, it sounded painful. “Can I talk to my daughter while you …. Work on the colonel? I do want a private word as soon as you have time, doctor.”
"You can see her," Sentara replied. "But I wouldn't advise trying to hold a conversation. Her larynx was damaged and she should not be speaking to anyone for quite while yet."
Duke laid down face first on the surgical bed. He was too tired to try and play peacemaker. "Just yank the shrapnel out and sew up the hole, Doc. I'm gonna take a nap."
“Take care of him.” Bran said gentler. “I will be right back. What room is Ro in? Her old one?”
"Bed 8, General Medical. No need for isolation anymore." Sentara turned to reply to his current patient, but Duke was already asleep.
“Hmmmm, I will be back doc.” She said and went of to see her little girl.
Sentara just idly waved as he worked on Duke's wound.
“Hey there, kiddo.” The anger had left Bran’s voice completely as she sat next to Ro’s bed.
Rowena eyes opened as she heard her mum's voice. She nodded in answer to her question and held out her hand.
Bran took Ro’s hand in her own. “Oh baby, you took such risks. I could have lost you too.”
Ro squeezed her mother's hand as tears began to run down her cheeks.
Bran just held her close for a while and then motioned one of the nurses over. “Could you get me a PADD please?” she asked. “So I can talk to my daughter.” Gently she stroked Ro’s hair. “It’s okay now, baby. You are safe.”
The nurse returned with a PADD and gave it to Ro. Rowena typed [I almost got him. Lost control. I'm sorry]
“Ro, I wanted you safe. I wanted you nowhere near him. That is why the doctor kept you here. I can’t lose you as well.” Bran whispered while holding the girl.
[He told me not contagious, made him let me go. Ship under attack. Am officer now.]
“Yes, you are.” Bran had to admit. “But you were under orders to stay here. Your personal relationship with Man’darr clouded your judgment. Tell me, if it had been any other escaped prisoner, would you have taken that much risk?”
Ro's opened her eyes fully, a mixture of shock, pride and hurt at her mother's words evident. She stabbed at the PADD in her hand, [Orders based on being contagious. Not contagious. You tried to keep me here? You can talk with straight face about clouded judgment when HE'S involved? Made mistake, won't happen again.]
‘Yes, I asked the doctor to keep you here,” the Colonel said honestly. “I did not want to lose another child to his anger. I…I thought I would lose you just like Daffydd. That I could not take.”
It's hard to smile when your throat has almost been crushed, but Rowena tried to smile for her mum. It came out more as a grimace. [I'm still here.]
Bran smoothed out her daughter’s hair. “Yes, and it is greatly appreciated. And you young lady, you have a great deal still to learn.”
The young lady in question typed a sarcastic reply -- [So do you] -- then decided it would just be better to change the subject. She typed again, [Is Col. Duke all right?]
“He will be. The doc is working on him. And I will take him home afterwards. When are they letting you out, hon? No way are you going back to your room for the first few days.”
[Don't know yet. Mum, I'll be fine; I don't need a baby-sitter.] Rowena suddenly thought of a clandestine way to find out what she really wanted to know. [Have you seen Lt. Adams? I need to make my report.]
“Adams is holding the bridge for me, that report can wait.” Bran said. “Oh what about your girlfriend? Want me to give her a message?”
[No,] Ro quickly typed. [I've already seen her; she's okay.]
“You are going to have to tell me her name one day soon you know.” Her mum smiled.
[I know. I'm tired. Can I take a nap now?]
“Yeah I know. I shouldn’t nag.” Bran came to her feet. “I will see you when you feel better. Take care, baby.” She kissed Ro on the top of her head and then left to find the doc again. <Main Sickbay>
Sentara was finishing up with the last of his patients when Col. London returned from talking to her daughter. Washing his hands, he spoke to her over his shoulder, "Colonel Duke will be fine, but he needs to rest. I've reinforced the dressing covering his genitals, and closed the shrapnel wound in his butt. He can walk, but he should be on light duty for at least a week. How are you holding up?"
“Shouldn’t he be off duty for the first couple of days?” she asked. “Don’t worry about me, doc, I am fine. Tough as nails. Now why the hell did you let Rowena leave here?”
Sentara wasn't startled by his commander's outburst; he'd seen it coming. "Colonel Duke is on light duty. If he needs to be completely off duty for medical reasons, as his physician, that is what I'll order. He doesn't need to be off duty completely, and with his Marine force down almost a whole platoon after today's shenanigans, I understand his desire not to be coddled. As for Ensign London, she was no longer contagious; I had no medical reason to keep her confined to sickbay. If you want to lock your daughter away, Colonel, use your own fucking authority -- do not dare to hide behind mine as CMO of this vessel!"
“I thought we understood each other, Doctor,” London was tired and cranky and not a little scared after almost losing her lover and her daughter. “Next time don’t think; follow orders.”
"Colonel, I will follow your orders, but not when it comes to how I take care of my patients. I shouldn't need to remind you that medical decisions are beyond the purview of command." Sentara placed his fists on his hips. "Of course, you can relieve me of duty -- if you think you have just cause -- and find someone else to run this madhouse. Until then, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter!"
“Bloody arrogant prick.” She was way too tired for this. And he was right, damn it.
"Of course," grinned Sentara. "That's why you gave me this job, remember? Now, are you sure you don't need some light duty yourself? You're looking a bit paler than normal."
“Someone has to do the job. I am just tired that is all.” Of course her own lower body burnt with pain from the earlier wounds, but she was so not giving in to it. “Can I take him home now, doc?”
"Duke? Sure. At least he's not singing this time," Sentara chuckled. "You need to get some rest too, or do I have to be an arrogant prick again?"
“Yeah, yeah.” She said not really intending to rest. “Is he back here?”
"That grinding noise you hear behind the curtain would be Col. Duke. Please take him out of here -- that snoring is giving me a headache."
“On my way; thanks, Doc,” Bran said and made her way over to the partition. The good thing about Sentara; they could scream at each other and still work together. Bran had gone through a few CMO’s before she found him. "Mobilization" Captain Jaal Jaxom & Others The Panther was ready to depart. The only thing needed was direction Jaal sat in the command chair on his bridge studying something on a Sojor, the first officer, took the time to run another diagnostic on Jaal stood up. "The first thing we need to do is catch a comet." The Once the Panther was clear of the asteroid field that housed the ==Other Places== There were many people throughout the Hawk and Dove factions that Some messages went outside the shrunken, atrophied Federation Ships, supplies, and people started to move. ==USS Eldridge== Daneel sat in his command chair and watched the Panther transverse to "Aye," came the eager answer. "Best will be warp six point seven until "That'll do," Captain Olivaw answered. ==USS Miranda== Mark sat at the operations console of the Miranda. It was a seat he'd The console beeped unexpectedly. It indicated an incoming 'E.J. or is it J.E.? Haha, just kidding! Sorry I can't make the party ==USS Panther, Main Shuttle Bay== "I still think this is a bad idea," the Panther's chief engineer Since good help and spare parts had become so scarce, most everyone on "But we don't know what this modification will do," she handed Jaal "The simulations we've run have all checked out," Jaal patiently Marcy rolled her eyes while handing Jaal the welding face shield. "I Jaal didn't answer while he was welding the two conduits together. "The last time you said that, my friend, may I remind you? We lost two Jaal flipped up the face shield once more, "This has nothing to do "But if the power grid shits out we can't use anything!" Jaal flipped the face shield down again. A confident, if muffled The Trill stopped welding for just a moment before glancing around the Marcy shook her head. This was crazy! "I better go re-enforce the Since the transporter buffer needed much more power than the ship It was dangerous enough to start up a shuttle's warp core with it in Marcy held the crucifix she wore around her neck and prayed. "Behold the Turtle... He only makes progress when he sticks his neck out!" Lieutenant Commander Rafael Dávila - Fleet Intelligence ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Warp Shuttle KittyKat ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Dad?" Looking at her father who was sat in the completely darkened cockpit "And all the starry universe was contained therein..." Rafael muttered, his "What are you going on about? Are you high again!" Miranda accused him, "Huh?" Rafael asked, his attention snapping back to the here and now, "No "And you're up late. Have you even been to sleep yet?" Sitting beside him "Reading." He admitted. "Remember when I said the more information we have "Is this to do with that Allison von Ernst?" Miranda queried, "What's all "With her, I have no idea, though it might pay to find out. No, what "Maybe it's some other Allison von Ernst?" Miranda suggested, "You could be "That's what I've been thinking about," he admitted with a tired sigh, "the "So?" Miranda asked casually, not really caring too much, all this talk "Well, if they are one and the same, and so far I'm leaning in the direction "Dad, if I could travel back in time to get away from what's going on I'd do "You know, ever since I started reading all this that's something I've been "Now I 'know' you're high again!" Miranda accused, "that has to be the most "No squirt, I'm not high," he rebutted gently, "just tired! Tired of "Do you have any idea what-so-ever how to actually go 'about' travelling "Nothing easy springs to mind at the moment, but there are I believe ways." "What about that spin 'round the sun thing that Kirk did?" Miranda asked, "A Slingshot manoeuvre?" Considering it for a moment Rafael looked at "Sorry Raf, right now I couldn't survive even a short slingshot." Aurora "Yeah, let's give that a miss then." Miranda decided firmly. "Didn't the "Yup," Rafael said with a nod, "that would be the DTI, however they were "Dad, I have to say this has got to be one of your most 'Fharbot' ideas to "No," Aurora interrupted hesitantly, "I think his most insane idea to date "Okay, okay," Rafael interrupted as Miranda was about to reply, "it's not "Any ideas 'how' we do it?" Miranda asked curiously. "Well, that's what I've been researching the last couple of days." He "Either way father, you're looking at sending 'something' back in time," Tapping his console Rafael brought his screen to life and indicated a "I thought you wanted those files in case we tried to run in that "I know, but it's not the Delta Quadrant files from the Voyager that caught "Okay, so, I've gotta ask. If we do this, and we succeed in actually "Theoretically..." ~ Oh Frell! Why does she ask the awkward questions! I "So, why? If we do this and nothing changes for us... I don't understand?" "Miranda, I love you, and if I could I would move the universe to give you a "Basically," he added at her increasing look of confusion, "if we do "Dad, we can't save the galaxy all on our own." Miranda said in a resigned "Perhaps," he agreed softly, "but should that stop us from trying?" Once More, With Feeling 3: What You Feel Lt. Cmdr. T'Pei
The greatest joy, and deepest problem, with loving someone is that you love them. They matter. Because love requires trust, and trust requires handing another person the ability to hurt you in the deepest way possible, with the hope that they will protect that secret with their life. Chris and T'Pei had exchanged weapons long ago, and each had carefully and immediately sheathed them. His father, her feelings...both subjects that had been brought up with compassion, but never with malice. T'Pei had fled, moving as inconspicuously as possible at an almost jog. And in that journey, over three decks and seven minutes, she bled from one emotion to the next like the paints in a watercolor portrait, from sadness, to anger at herself for her cowardice and inability to communicate with Chris, to anger at him for making her feel these things, and then to guilt over feeling these things at all. By the time she reached her quarters she had cycled back to anger. ~You're the most logical Vulcan in the quadrant, right?~ How dare he. How dare he say that to her. He knew exactly what to say to unhinge her, to stop her in her tracks. And he said it--not on accident, but deliberately. The part of her still livid with her own behavior reminded her that she had started it, but she didn't want to deal with that part right now. T'Pei stalked straight to the replicator. "Spice tea." She was emotional, not illogical. There was a difference. An important one--just because she could no longer suppress her emotions did not mean she could not live her life by logic. And Chris knew that. He was the one who had helped her see the difference, ten years before. "Computer, begin recording. Lieutenant Commander T'Pei, personal log, Stardate 5021109...I believe that Captain Daniels is disregarding the well being of this ship and crew and acting in a manner which is solely motivated by revenge." Her agitated fingers grabbed at her tea as it materialized. He was the one who was acting illogically, rushing off after the hope of killing Rebecca von Ernst. What would he do if he finally did kill her? What would he live for when his one goal had been accomplished? T'Pei opened her mouth to say just that and then stopped. That wasn't fair. Chris lived for more than revenge, and she knew it. She would not be able to care about him, to follow him, if that was not the case. And she did follow him, wherever he went. T'Pei did not care anymore for the Hawk and Dove struggle. The line between the two had been blurred so long ago that she could barely tell who was who--except Chris. His ideals remained, even if his edges had been rubbed ragged and his resolve was stretched thin. So she followed him, the last bastion of real goodness she knew. She greatly respected Chris, the Captain, and cared deeply for Chris, the man. But in truth, they were different sides of the same person. And if that person was tarnished by the need to kill rather than help, the idea that that was somehow the right thing to do, then she didn't know what she was following anymore. She realized she had been pacing and she stopped in front of a small square mirror, installed so that she could more efficiently remove and replace the strings of beads in her hair when necessary. Looking intently, she wondered--what exactly what that woman in the mirror had become? Someone who followed Chris, and perhaps that was all. What would she do when the struggle ended...continue to follow him? Did she have any remaining dreams of her own? Then, like a sledgehammer, the pure melodrama of her thoughts struck her and T'Pei turned from the mirror in disgust. ~...most logical Vulcan in the quadrant...~ It hurt because deep down she believed it, and she had always counted on Chris to tell her it wasn't true. He had always known there was a difference. Just like he knew that T'Pei's greatest fear was that at any moment, what distinction there was might melt away. Someday, she knew, she would deteriorate to the point that emotional and illogical would be the same and then it wouldn't be melodramatic because she truly wouldn't be Vulcan anymore. But that day wasn't today. And despite feeling hurt by his words, T'Pei wasn't sure who she was actually angry at--Chris, or herself. Because right now, pacing around in her quarters, she was behaving in a highly illogical manner. And didn't that prove his point? T'Pei sighed, setting the now cold tea down on a small table. She had been recording silence for twelve minutes. "Computer, erase log entry." “Woman of War” Cheyenne Allison Von Ernst ********** Starbase 10 – Dove Space Any other person by this point in time would’ve given up, blown town, ran for the hills. But not Cheyenne; She was probably the only person in the entire universe short of Rebecca Von Ernst herself that was insane enough to do this and probably the only one crazy enough to actually pull off a job like this solo. After finding out (the hard way) that the command codes that Marcus had sold her were no good, Cheyenne opted for the indirect approach. Thankfully, the Miranda’s course hadn’t changed since it had left Sector 001 and it hadn’t been in too much of a hurry, so Cheyenne knew exactly where the Miranda was heading to. Starbase 10 in Dove Space, like much of the Dove Fleet, had deteriorated over the years. It was about one or two steps away from falling into the corruptness and lawlessness that now gripped Deep Space Nine in the Bajor Sector. Cheyenne had pushed her engines to the max in an effort to dock before the Miranda did so that she could get setup. Once she was docked, she had HAL keep the engines warmed up for a quick getaway. She then went onto the Starbase briefly in order to bribe the right couple of people in order to get her onto the work detail for the incoming Miranda as well as the supplies that she needed. Cheyenne then returned to the Interceptor, donned her Templar Armor, and stepped out of her own airlock to wait near the docking port for the Miranda. One thing that she was thankful of is that not too many people on a Starbase like this questioned why someone on a work detail would be wearing combat battlearmor. In these dark and trying days work details often had guards over them or were armed themselves in order to protect their livelihood. In fact one of the other workers on the detail she’d joined had a suit of Templar Armor themselves. It just wasn’t as armed as hers were or as in as good as condition. Cheyenne had her suit’s weapon currently hidden in a hard plastic case, which looked like an old golf bag carrying case, along with her cleaning supplies. There was no reason for her to scare off her target before she had a chance to act. Then the USS Miranda pulled into its docking berth where Cheyenne and the work detail were waiting. Being out in open space in nothing but a small suit of armor and watching a huge majestic Starship like the Miranda dock right in front of you still took Cheyenne’s breath away. It was one of the few things that did. Once the Miranda had stopped, Cheyenne announced that she’d start with Ten-Forward and she engaged the thrusters on her suit’s pack and got to work. She took out her squeegee and cleaning solution, sprayed some solution onto the starboard most viewport window, and got to work. ********** Ten-Forward – USS Miranda Allison was glad to get out and about to stretch her legs. While she wasn’t exactly a prisoner onboard the Miranda, she wasn’t exactly welcomed all over the ship either. Captain Elaithin had kept her more or less in the dark as to what all was going on, which was all that she wanted to do; know what was going on and why no one would let her see her mom. In an effort to ease her mind, Allison went for a walk. She would’ve loved to have gotten off at the Starbase, but that was another thing that Captain Elaithin wouldn’t hear about. He said that they were only stopping off for some minor repairs and some supplies before they were off again. She found her way to Ten-Forward where there were a few off duty personnel enjoying themselves for a change. It seemed that people in this timeline enjoyed whatever time off they were able to nab in this universe of constant warfare. The whole idea of this hell being her home made her shudder. She took a seat near one of the central window, ignoring the grey figure outside that was cleaning the windows. A waiter came by and took her order. Allison slumped down onto one fist, looking bored until the waiter came back with her drink. She longed to see her mother if nothing else to see what everyone was talking about. There was no way she could be the monster that everyone made her out to be, could she? Allison sighed and started sipping at her drink, determined to have a sit down with Captain Elaithin later on and demand answers from him. ********** Starbase 10 – USS Miranda’s Berth Cheyenne couldn’t believe how short of time it took for Allison to show up. She was only halfway through with the windows. Not that she minded, the sooner she got this job done the better. Cheyenne really didn’t want to be around once Jii picked up his teeth after she was done kicking them in. And if Jii didn’t get her, Jordan or Arel would and that wasn’t exactly an idea she relished. Cheyenne took her time, waiting for Allison to get settled with her meal before springing into action. She planted her feet onto the hull plating between windows, tossed the squeegee and cleaning solution away and pulled her HK-920 from the utility case and aimed it right for the window. She thumbed it to full power and fired. The beautiful thing about the cleaning solution that she used was that she had mixed a minute amount of liquid explosive in with it so that when she fired at it, it would blow out the windows. It worked like a charm as the window as well as all the windows that she doctored blew outwards. Explosive decompression dealt with the rest of the windows. Food, plates, utensils, chairs, tables and people all ended up flying out into space at once. Ignoring all other people who were now in the process of dying and keeping focused on the one blonde teenager that she was after, Cheyenne engaged her suit’s thrusters and sped off for Allison. Within seconds, she had her and continued on. She pointed the HK-920 at the station’s viewport that they were speeding towards and fired. She was glad that the station’s inner viewports were not as armored as the Miranda’s outer ones. That viewport shattered easily and Cheyenne sailed right through that room’s explosive decompression with ease. She landed in a heap with Allison right as the station’s emergency forcefields flickered into existence, repressurizing the room. Allison sucked in lungfuls of air desperately next to her. Cheyenne looked her over; other than some minor scrapes, cuts and bruises she would be fine. With the suddenness of the explosive decompression, Cheyenne figured that Allison probably wasted her time screaming, which in turn emptied out her lungs of air and saved her from a case of the bends. It was then that Allison noticed the grey armored window washer was bearing down on top of her. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Cheyenne was thankful that her helmet muffled most of it otherwise her eardrums might’ve ruptured. “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAK!!!” Allison screamed as Cheyenne grabbed her by the upper arm, hauling her to her feet. Cheyenne then felt something thudding against her helmet, momentarily jarring her head. The dumb bitch actually took her shoes off and hit her with them. Sighing, Cheyenne activated her microphone. “Alright blondie… you’re coming with me.” She said. “Like hell I am!” Cheyenne yanked her through the door leading into the Starbase’s promenade. “Like I said, you’re coming with me. It’s high time that you and your mother got back together, and I think that you really wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” Outside, she hung a right and headed to where the Interceptor was docked at. Not surprisingly, Starbase Security came out of the woodwork in an effort to stop her as civilians left and right cleared out of the way. Cheyenne welcomed them practically with open arms. Well, more like open phaser since she already had her weapon out and ready. She’d take on Starbase 10 Security any day before tangling with Miranda Security, who’d cut her to ribbons and serve her head on a silver platter to Jii and her ass on a Klingon platter to Arel. The HK-920 practically screamed as it unleashed its stream of blue-white orbs rapidly. She kept Allison behind her as security fired back just on the off chance that the weekend warriors decided to shoot first, shoot second, shoot some more and then when everyone was dead try and ask a question or two. Within moments, the station’s security was all down on the ground and she continued on unimpeded to the Interceptor with a protesting Allison in tow. She knocked a few more people and a few more guards aside along the way before she finally was back on board her ship. “HAL! Fire up the engines and get us out of here!” she yelled through her microphone as she hit the command to close the airlock behind her. She manhandled Allison to the front compartment and shoved the girl down into one of the side chairs. Allison tried to get right back up, but was pushed back down. “Sit down and stay down if you know what’s good for you!” Cheyenne snapped. “Your mom wants you alive, you don’t necessarily have to be conscious when I deliver you.” She said as she sat down in the pilot’s seat and took over from HAL while Allison crossed her arms and pouted in her chair. Cheyenne pulled the Interceptor away from Starbase 10 and shot into warp. She had taken one of the shuttle berths on the outside of the station just so that she didn’t have to worry about engaging in a pitched battle on the inside of the station with her ship. She subsequently engaged the cloak and put the piloting back under HAL’s control and breathed a sigh of relief at having the job almost done. Cheyenne then took off her helmet and laid it to the side. She whipped her head around letting her straight blonde hair loose and sighed with relief. Allison stopped moping and looked at her in surprise. “You’re… You’re a woman!?” she asked, shocked. Cheyenne looked over her shoulder and shrugged. “You were expecting maybe Kahless?” she asked nonchalantly. “I’m a woman of war now. One does what one must. Now, I’m going aft to get out of this getup. You stay put and don’t touch anything. Like I mentioned, you only have to be alive for your mother…” she said ominously, glaring over at her before picking up her helmet and heading aft to remove her armor. She pressed a button on the main communications panel on the way by. “Cheyenne to Shiva; Blondie is in the bag. I’ll be with you shortly. Out.” She said and then disappeared into the back compartment. As she got there she paused briefly. Why does this seem like it was waaaay too easy? She thought. "Journeys End, and New Beginnings" By Cap'n T'risia and Sam Widdlestein Once more in her full pirate regalia, T'risia idly fiddled with one of "That's nice," Sam said as she fiddled with the sleeves of cuffs of T'risia nodded, and placed some brandy before her trusted right hand "I'm good at my job, Cap'n," The redhead replied with a grin. "They're The eccentric, obsessed Vulcan drank her alcohol, fast. "I responded "Sounds good," Sam said. "What did you have in mind?" T'risia tilted her head, as she had so long ago, before things "Uhhh..." "It is the best of all worlds, of course. A time ship will have Sam thought about it. "Potentially. I'm not a counselor but bright and T'risia stood, leaning heavily on her cane. She walked over to the That was a 'yes' if she'd ever heard one, Sam thought. "I understand The Captain of the Black Pearl considered the statement, her eyebrow "Not exactly sure but I always land on my feet," Sam laughed. "Maybe T'risia nodded her head, not seeing the statement for the humor that Sam grinned. "Ah, Cap'n, you do care! No .. no, I meant that, er, "Do you have any advice you would like to leave me with?" T'risia "After this quest of yours, you need to find a new hobby." T'risia had only paused a moment, looking at the holo, and copied the "Oh and be careful, Sam warned. "Those temporal boys are grog-snarfing T'risia, looking a bit tired in her heavy frock coat with its ragged She paused in her speech, and said, "I do not know of hobbies as such, Her green eyes took in Sam, thinking hard. "The book is to remind you It was, of course, Treasure Island. Sam grinned. What else could she say but Arrrrrr! ~Once More, With Feeling 4: Grave~ Lt. Cmdr. T'Pei ================================== Despite having lived on Vulcan for the first fifty years of her life, it had been ten years since T'Pei had been home. She wasn't sure it felt like home, anymore. As she had predicted, Chris' absence had not gone over well when she met with the Council. Even with her explanation that the Hercules was going to "apprehend Captain von Ernst in order to prevent more events such as the destruction of Earth," the Vulcans viewed his action as aggression, a possible sign of untrustworthiness. One member of the Council, Fleet Captain Sorena, had spoken in their favor, but T'Pei was not sure it would be enough to stop them from deciding to close their space to the Doves entirely. So for now, until the Council had come to a decision regarding this new development, T'Pei was coordinating the EMTs from the planet and the ship. The medical teams had quickly recognized that the city center was unsalvageable, and were concentrating their limited resources on the edges of the city. Even there, the damage was astounding. T'Pei was separating hyposprays with radiation medication into bundles, to be distributed to the different medical check points, when a Bajoran woman ran up to her, carrying a small Human child in her arms. The girl had severe burns up and down her torso and legs, but she was still conscious, clutching a large stuffed sehlet to herself and looking up with wide, unfocused brown eyes. "I found her in an alley with a body--I think it was her mother--but she won't speak," the woman babbled, laying the girl on a makeshift field medical bed. "She is in shock." T'Pei crouched slightly, to put herself on the same level as the child. "Get a blanket," she directed at the Bajoran, and then returned her attention to the girl, brushing a lock of straight, dark hair from her face. The girl shifted, her eyes centering on T'Pei, and the Vulcan knew she had to keep her attention. "Your sehlet is very soft, ko-kan. Does it have a name?" She did not respond, and T'Pei reached out with her hand to pet the plush animal, hoping to draw her out. The child winced violently, and in the brief instant when the sehlet moved, T'Pei saw why the girl had held onto it so tightly. It had been covering up the jagged piece of metal that protruded from her stomach. "Prophets help us." The Bajoran clutched the blanket, her knuckles white. "If I had realized, I would not have moved her..." T'Pei removed the sehlet from the girl's arms, and standing slowly so as not to frighten her, tapped her comm badge. Her voice was completely controlled. "Doctor Hume, I require your assistance." "I didn't make it worse, right? She will be okay? You can fix it?" the woman asked hysterically, over and over, and T'Pei froze, the blood draining from her face. ~I'm, I'm gonna be okay, you can . . . you can fix me, right?~ She slammed her eyes shut, digging her fingers painfully into her thigh. 'Not now. Please not right now.' ================================== Regulus III, 2390 There was not enough blood.
She was going to get up now. She had to make sure it was safe, that nothing else would go wrong.
T'Pei could see her phaser, across the cavern where it had hit the wall in an explosion of sparks. Lurching to her feet, she retrieved it, and made her way towards the crumpled form of Reilin Hebran. She felt for a pulse...strong, steady. He was unconscious, then. There was no danger right now. The knife was halfway between Hebran and 8-ball, where it had clattered to the ground just minutes before. A glint of light caught the hilt--the blade was stained a deep green, fading to black. T'Pei picked it up with her undamaged left hand, wondering why the Betazoid had chosen to bring it.
The trickle of blood had reached 8-ball's hip now, and T'Pei watched the first drop hover, almost in indecision, before splashing down to the floor.
The trickle should have been a river. And if the blood was not coming out, that meant it was pooling inside of her body. Cavity, or organ?
8-ball's eyes opened. 8-ball frowned and then glanced around the dim-lit cavern until the Vulcan woman touched her shoulder. "She is safe on the ship." Finally the disoriented woman's eyes shifted to rest on T'Pei. It was obvious that she could not completely focus her gaze, but T'Pei believed that 8-ball was seeing her, and not some other, imaginary figure. "Hey," 8-ball said. "You look like crap." T'Pei looked down at 8-ball's tear-streaked face, and calmly lied. "No, Lieutenant, nobody is crying." There was nothing that she could do to save 8-ball's broken body, but perhaps she could do one last thing for her friend. She lifted 8-ball's hand slightly. "Lieutenant." The woman frowned up past T'Pei, recognizing that something was happening but unable to tell what it was. "8-ball." That got her attention, and her blurry eyes focused briefly. "You don't call me 8-ball."
"I need your assistance, 8-ball. I am going to meld with you now. Focus on me. Can you do that?" 8-ball blinked heavily. "Uh," she said. "Sure?" The woman managed to make and hold eye contact with T'Pei. "What're you doing?" she asked. "I am going to take your katra," the Vulcan admitted, her voice flat. 8-ball's face blanched, as the implications of that statement became apparent. "No," she said, "no, it's not . . . come on, it's not that bad. It's not . . ." The woman tried to sit up again, and again T'Pei held her down. "Godammit, T'Pei, please! Please say it's not that bad!" T'Pei stayed silent, letting her friend work through her fear, grateful that when her time came, she would feel no fear, or anger, or sadness. 8-ball's eyes closed. "Christ," she whispered. "Christ. I'm not . . ." She broke off again, starting to laugh bitterly. "No one's . . . no one's ever ready," she said, "but I'm not. I'm not. Kaylee . . . Kaylee . . . I'm not fucking ready." T'Pei leaned over so that the dying woman could see her face clearly. "You have my word, Lieutenant." 8-ball began to answer, but another spasm of coughing overcame her, and the woman's body arched with pain. T'Pei held her shoulder down, trying to keep her from causing herself anymore harm, but even once the coughing subsided, 8-ball's breathing was a harsh gurgle, and flecks of green dotted her lips. They were running out of time. "Lieutenant," T'Pei said intently, lifting one limp hand to her face and holding it there. "We need to begin soon." 'Oh, fuck', 8-ball thought, and then her body spasmed one last time. ==================================
"T'Pei." Oliver touched her arm and shook his head sadly. "There..." he glanced down at the little girl, alert now from the pain. "I fam qlit'woi nash-veh than. Nam tor tab ma," he murmured. 'Too late...' T'Pei thought. 'Yes, it certainly is, isn't it?' She sat down by the girl, wondering what her name was. Not that it matted now. It was too late, after all. She gently pressed the sehlet back into her hands and smiled warmly at her. "I will stay here with her, Oliver." =================================== She buried the body in the cavern. It took her hours, because she had to do it right. They wouldn't be able to come back for it--nobody could know that they had ever been there. This mission was too important. 8-ball would have understood that. She buried the knife too, because she didn't trust Hebran with a weapon now. Then she sat vigil by the camouflaged grave, waiting for the Betazoid man to regain consciousness. They left when the sky turned dark. ================================== Sorena found her an hour later, mutely bandaging the arm of a Ktarian man.
"The Council has agreed that you may proceed. Quarters and a working area have been arranged. When you are ready, you may begin your investigation." Tying the final bandage, T'Pei stood, gesturing for one of the EMTs to take her place. "I am finished here." "Wedding of the Future" Captain Alexandra Lee ********** Alex's yeoman, friend, and bridesmaid stood in her dress uniform as well, smiling. "You look beautiful, captain." Alex grinned back. "Thank you, Shannon." In the next room, Jazz was frantically searching his pockets for Alex's ring while McAllister practiced walking without his cane. As long as he remained in motion, his legs seemed functioned almost normally. But when Paul had to stand for any length of time, like during a wedding ceremony, his right leg often declined to function as a leg should, instead trying its best to emulate a rubber band. He resigned himself to the inevitable. "I'm just going to have to use the cane, Jazz. It won't do to have the bride holding her husband up halfway through the ceremony -- just what in the hell are you looking for, anyway?" "Dude, I can't find the ring!" exclaimed Jazz. "Man, this totally sucks. I couldn't be there the first time you guys got hitched, now I'm here and I lost the fracking ring." He was still franticly searching through the pockets of his best suit when McAllister's laughter registered to his ear. "Just what in the holy hell are you laughin at?" "Jazz, I haven't given it to you yet!" Paul doubled over, her was laughing so hard. Soon, Jazz's joined him. When they finally caught their breath, Paul handed Jazz the box containing a simple latinum band and watched as he carefully placed it in his vest pocket. "I wonder who's gonna give the bride away?" asked Jazz. Alex's first officer, Commander James Moonblood offered his arm to her. "I am honored to be a part of this ceremony, captain. Alex looked up at her first officer and smiled. "James, you've been my first officer since I took command. We've been through too much together for you not to be the first person I thought of to walk me down the aisle." The Messenger stood at the front of the room at the makeshift altar that he'd constructed and consecrated himself. For today's purposes, he'd put the Class One Relics that he had in his possession into the altar to make the area surrounding it holy. He'd already gone through his usual rituals before a ceremony of this magnitude and had even taken the steps of using his allocated rations to replicate robes to befit the occasion. His black trench coat, black leather boots, dark clothes, and shades had all been left back in his quarters in favor of the flowing white priest robes decorated in gold trim that he now wore. He smiled and nodded at McAllister as he came up and together they waited for Alex to make her entrance. The bridal march music began and Alex and James stepped into the aisle and began the slow walk down. A few officers and crewmen who were off duty had managed to attend the function. It had been eight months since they had a wedding aboard the ship, which had been performed by the captain for the ship's Chief Engineer and the Chief Medical Officer. McAllister frowned at the murdering-Priest. That son-of-a-bitch was wearing white robes! Why does that bother me? thought McAllister. They should be red for all the damn blood he's spilled. He glanced down at the rows of fruit salad on his own spotless white jacket. My uniform should be red. Frackin priest and his damn plywood confessional; haven't slept well since. Damn that music is loud -- and that minor cord's a little on the sharp side. Holy Shit! That woman agreed to marry me? The dress looked better on her the first time, but still -- she's beautiful even in uniform. Her jacket doesn't need to be red. And will you look at how she fills out that tunic! Oh, boy -- this is a mistake. Gods, I hope I don't end up hurting her again... Alex arrived at the alter as her bridesmaid and her first officer stood next to her. She grabbed Paul's hand tenderly and smiled at him. When the two were standing in front of him, hands linked and big grins on their faces, The Messenger smiled at them both. He then crossed himself as he spoke. "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." He breathed. The Messenger then looked at all assembled. "The Celebration and Blessing of Marriage that begins on page 423 of the Book of Common Prayer can be found under your seats on the PADDs provided." He said, indicating all the PADDs that he'd taken the liberty of distributing before hand." He then waited for everyone to get out the PADDs so that they could follow along if they so chose to. The Messenger then spread his hands out. "Dearly Beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people." "The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God. Into this holy union Paul McAllister and Alexandria Lee now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace." The Messenger intoned, looking over the crowd. And if anyone does object, may God have mercy on your soul since I very much doubt that either of these two will… he thought ruefully. Alex was saddened for a moment at the mention of 'procreation of children' but kept her smile. It was the 25th Century after all. 'Who knows,' Alex thought to herself. Paul winced at the mention of children. Jonathan! 'Oh, Absalom, my son!' Where the frack did that come from? Damn her hand is cold. Is my hand cold? -- feels like I'm sweating my ass off. There's Jazz, with all those pearly whites showing -- we should have name him Shark instead of Jazz. Holy union? Where was Abbott now, anyway? At least the band made it this time -- oh, shit, the band. They better not pull any crap! Oops, band equals mission equals war -- not a good time for this -- fucknuggets my leg hurts. Yeah, go ahead an object -- someone please object, I got your damn objection right here... The Messenger then looked down at McAllister and Alex. "I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God's Word, you do now confess it." Alex kept her eyes on Paul, remaining silent. She only let out a slow breath. She could hardly believe she was doing this...again. 'Confess it now,' McAllister thought. What's this with the damn confessions? Our first ceremony wasn't this long, was it? When do I get to kiss her already? Paul remained silent. The Messenger smiled again, motioned for the two of them to face each other, and looked to Alex. "Alexandra Lee, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?" "I suppose I will, as nobody else will," she joked, as chuckles emitted from the attendees. The Messenger then turned to McAllister. "Paul McAllister, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?" Paul remembered the embarrassment he had caused at their first wedding's rehearsal when they had come to this part. A loud "Hell Yeah!" was not considered an appropriate response. However, considering Alex's joke… "I will obey my orders," he said with a smile. The Messenger then looked to the audience. "And will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?" As one, the audience responded. "We will." The Messenger then looked down at McAllister and Alex. "Do you have the rings?" he asked. Alex took her ring for Paul from James. Jazz reached into his pocket and then gave McAllister a stricken look. Paul blanched. Then Jazz gave him a big grin and a wink, and produced the ring. "Paul, you may now recite your vows and give her your ring." "I, Paul, take you Alex to be my wife – again. I left you once in despair for things I could not change, forgetting that the pain of my despair was visited on both of us, and I left you to bear it alone. You remembered and kept our first vows, and found me, and brought me back to life, and for this I will be forever grateful. "I am reminded that love is not the dying moan of a distant violin – and love is greater than the triumphant twang of a bedspring.* I am forever yours, from this day forward… "…to infinity and beyond." "Alexandria, you may now recite your vows and give him your ring." "I, Alexandra, take you Paul to be my husband. I have never stopped loving you, even through the difficult times, and ask that you never leave me again. We are stronger together than separate." The Messenger then took their hands into his, bound them together with the white wrap from around his waist, made a small sign of the cross over them and spoke. "Bless, O Lord, these rings to be a sign of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen." He then undid the binding and wrapped it back around his waist. He then addressed everyone. "Now that Paul and Alexandria have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I now pronounce, with the authority given to me by our Lord and by the United Federation of Planets, that they are husband and wife," he said and then crossed himself. "in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder. Amen." "Amen," Alex echoed softly. "I now give you Mr. and Mrs. McAllister." The Messenger said. He caught their expectant looks. "You may kiss the bride." He said, smiling. Alex was a bit taken back by the big kiss given to her by Paul, but returned the passion equally.
"Pilgrimage"
Staring: Chandrakala Eshe
Pilgrimage.
It's a journey to a special place, usually of religious importance. There are no stipulations on how many times one takes this journey, or what one has to face to reach the desired destination. Yet the word alone stirs something within the soul that brings up images of struggles, both physical and mental, that have to be faced and met before one can take rest within its boundaries. And what is it that we receive once the journeys end has been reached? The word conjures a dream of fulfilment, some deep revelation that lifts the soul, purges all negativity, sooths away all symptoms of strife and adversity.
Why is it then that I choose to travel to a place of disillusionment? To a place so scarred by bitter and violent conflict, one so full of hardship and suffering that it was abandoned for its inability to perform its purpose.
It was supposed to be our home. And a home in its very nature is indestructible, its design; to comfort, to protect, to make us feel safe. It was to nurture, to support life, to create it and raise it, to teach it, to love it… a home was all these things and more. It did so much that we took it for granted. Never realised what life could be like without it.
Until we abandoned it.
There is something to be said about building something from nothing. The pride and joy from starting from scratch, with only a plot of dirt that you chose above all the other plots of dirt, watch it grow from dust and sand, moulded by your hands into a place for your children and your children's children and your children's, children's children. A homestead created by your own hand was something to be proud of for years. Unless…
Unless all you could build was a shanty.
We were lucky. When Qo'noS fell I had a ship to live upon, a bed big enough for the three of us and a room to call ours. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
It wasn't the same as what we had, and nothing that we could have built would have compared to the family home on Qo'noS, the memories there, the history contained in those walls… even with the promise that we could have begun a new history for our family. The stories of our adversity and success would have been told over and over to each generation as they grew into a lineage that I could have been proud of, even if it was 'New' Qo'noS they lived upon.
But I hadn't the strength to make something of nothing. Hadn't the strength to level the soil and dig the foundations, because I was nursing my husband and my only child back to health. I didn't know then that it was a life time job. That it would never get easier. And that they would never get better. And that I would never be an ancestor. Stories of my strife would never be told to the next generation, because that generation ended with my son's. "And Yet, Another Message In A Bottle" Captain Chris Daniels PO1 Larry Bean (npc, Cliff) ==USS Hercules== Operations was one of the better places on a starship if one wanted to Besides, it wasn't like he would ever be tasked with sabotage. All he Arriving at the entrance to Captain Daniels' ready room, he knocked on the door. The door slid open quietly and Bean entered to find the ship's Captain Something was different about his facial expression today though. "Petty Officer Bean." Chris nodded at him, mustering up a slight "Well," Bean putting his unease aside, "There's a message for you from Chris cocked an eyebrow as he took the PADD and looked up at Bean. He Captain Jaxom's face appeared on the PADD. He was older and a little There was a small pause and the Trill smiled, "And I'm not letting Chris didn't bother to turn the message off. Instead, with a flick of "Mr. Bean, am I to assume that Captain Jaxom asked you personally to Captain Jaxom had always been of the mind that telling the truth in The petty officer cleared his throat and ran his hand through his "And I can further assume that you've been passing information about Bean winced. Judging from Daniels demeanor, there was the possibility Chris rubbed his forehead. This was the problem with the friendlies, "Very Well. Go out there to the communications station, and deliver Larry rubbed his chin again. This was the long shot Jaxom had "Sir, if I may, this ship won't stand much of a chance against the The frustration evident in his eyes, Chris pushed a button on his "Petty Officer, you picked the wrong day to try and interfere in how I "Captain," Larry Bean tried to sound like the voice of reason, "At Chris motioned his arm to the guards. "Get him out of here." Petty Officer Bean looked at the guards shaking his head. "Relax, I'll Chris watched as the guards began to escort Bean out. Before he got "Bean." The Petty Officer turned around. "Sir?" "How long have you been at this?" "Since shortly after Starfleet splintered," the petty officer Chris nodded quietly. Inside, a voice told him that he should wait "If Jaal wants, he knows where he can find me." "If he doesn't hear from you in twelve hours, he'll call you Chris grunted. The Herk was due at von Ernst's location in fourteen Bean was glad he wasn't going directly to the brig. He dutifully went ==A Short Time Later...USS Panther== "A but O ... call asap" "Amicable but obsessive," Tupuk announced to the others. "Not necessarily good news," Mesta observed. "We can't let an "I'm reasonably sure Shiva would mop the floor with Daniel's ship," Captain Jaxom read the text on the screen. His brow knitted with This surprised people as direct ship to ship communications was "Knife Into The Heart of Qo'noS"
Staring: Chandrakala Eshe
*** [2402] Location: Qo'noS ***
It was said that no one survived Qo'noS, well that was wrong, and oh, so terribly right.
Reports exaggerated the details of that day, took what happened and made it sound worse than it was. But it wouldn't be until years later that the full extent of the damage was realised, and then, those reports would pale in comparison to the damage that would scar a nation for the rest of their days.
It was summer on Qo'noS when it happened. The warmth was intoxicating, the heat rose from the ground in waves of celestial warmth that made each and every person glow with a sheen of fine sweat. Everyone looked like gods, that slightly damp afterglow from a steamy night of … you know.
I remember it well. It was such a beautiful day, before me stood my husband and in his arms, our first born. We named him Kal, after me. He had a mass of reddish brown hair that fizzed about his face like a mane. He was my little scamp, and K'vol was my knight, my steed. He saved me from myself and carried me to the only place in the galaxy that I have ever felt I could truly call home. And then he gave me my dream. I was welcomed into the arms of his family without question. I'd always been a daughter of Kahless, they told me, always had fire and passion, they knew their son would make me his, even through the fights and the years of separation they told me that his heart had always beaten for mine.
I'd always smile when they told me that, I would nod and tell them 'mine too'. In hind sight it wasn't quite true. K'vol had always come second, he knew it, I knew it, but for family's sake… well you all know the drill.
I walked these streets with pride, held my head high, I was known here, respected here and I never thought I would be, not without her… without my…
But here I was, on my own two feet, known as Kala. Chandrakala Lakshmi, from the House of Qel; daughter of Eshe, par'mach of K'vol from the House of Qas, mother of Kal. And for the first time in years I felt whole, I felt, really felt. For the first time in years I could take in two full lung-full's of air without feeling that pain in my chest, without the guilt, without the overwhelming grief or the irrepressible rage that threatened to tear me up and make me the most bitterest woman imaginable.
So there I stood, on this very spot right here, and I looked at my family, the one I'd made, the one that was mine and oh, so beautiful. I took a mental picture, memorised everything I could, from the warmth of the summer breeze as it caressed my bare ankles to the scent of my husband, that raw animalistic scent that made me tingle all over, my eyes role back and my toes curl. And the scent of my son, he was three but he still smelt of baby, that scent that makes every woman's maternal instincts flutter and her uterus skip a beat, fills you up inside like nothing else can, makes you long for a babe of your own.
The shine of his auburn hair glowed around him like a halo, and the smile he wore as his father jiggled him up and down was priceless. He was my little angel. So beautiful. He had smooth tanned skin with a smattering of dark olive spots, which rose from the heals of his tiny feat, up his stubby little legs with their pudgy knees, up the flanks of his little pot belly, curved over his shoulders like a gigantic hug and snaked up his neck to cup his dimpled cheeks, leaving a big enough gap on his ridged forehead for me to kiss repeatedly, as mothers do. He had his father's sharp fangs that grew with every cheeky grin, much like the one he was sporting now; plumping his chubby cheeks so much that they almost hid his eyes, which were just like Hers.
They made me weep, those eyes. Dark bottle green orbs that held a wealth of knowledge that a three year old could not possibly possess, and I knew that she was with me. That somehow, someway she'd never left me. And I wept with joy and sadness and all the emotions in between. My sister, my wonderful twin sister was alive in my son and that way she'd never be dead.
And so here I stood, the dust covering my boots, rising from the ground like steam as I moved forward to kiss my angelic son and my doting husband. I turned and walked to the transport waiting to take me to my new command, yet I couldn't take my eyes from them, so I walked backwards, smiling as they waved me off, I remember feeing giddy. I was part of the Klingon Defence Force, I was part of a family, I was alive, I was whole and I was going to defend my home, my home, from all that sought to destroy it.
We had a new and revived feeling of hope in the war against the Triad. I was shipping out with an armada, the biggest task force since the Dominion War; we were going to strike the heart of the Triad harder than ever. The turning point was before me and I felt joy in its anticipation.
It was ten hours later when we got the news that Qo'noS had fallen.
We hadn't even reached the border, not yet engaged the enemy, yet the Qo'noS we had left was gone.
And The Triad had never set foot upon her soil. "USS Capella"
Captain Jill Maivia (NPC) Commander Man'darr Maivia Maar (NPC-Mieke) Man'darr grinned at his sister as she stood and moved to embrace him. "Thank you for the rescue, Jill." "Not a problem, bro," Jill returned his smile. "Thats what sisters are for. I am sorry to hear about the crew of the Liberty." Man'darr's thoughts turned to his deceased lover. "They killed Nina," he said bitterly. Jill's smile disappeared instantly. "What? I am so sorry, Man'darr. Once we're done with this mission, we will hunt down and kill those bastards," Jill promised her brother. After they did away with Branwen, she would personally see to it that Man'darr got his kids back. She had liked Nina and had thought of her as a sister and close friend. "I know." Man'darr knew his sister was telling the truth. "I'll assign you to quarters one-one-three-J on Deck Three, in order to change into uniform and to get some rest." "Very well. Thanks again, Jill." "Anytime, bro. See you this evening at dinner?" "Yes, I will be there," Man'darr replied as he stepped into the turbolift. All he wanted to do now was to be alone as he mourned over Nina's death. She then looked to her first officer, and lover, who also manned the tactical console. "Alpha Shift is cleared of duty and Beta Shift is now on duty. Lets go for a walk." She had a unique relationship with her first officer Maar. On duty, he obeyed and followed her command but off duty, it was quite different. She knew he respected her and loved her very much, but he was very dominant...a quality she enjoyed in men, as did many Capellan women. Maar did not serve in the military and thus did not officially hold a rank, as was with the rest of the ship, but they all knew their positions and how to perform them. She and Maar made sure of that. The end result was a deadly crew of combat-experienced capellans manning a well-armed Defiant Class vessel named in their honor. "We will take the Trafalgar in our next encounter. Damn our orders," she vented. "Yes we will. They are sniveling bastards, and next time we will be ready and show them no mercy, count on that woman." Maar said. "Will you keep your brother in your crew?" Not that he was afraid of his postion. Maar knew he had earned that the hard way. "Until Command assigns him a new command, yes. But that shouldn't take any longer than a few days. Don't worry, your position is safe, Maar," she said with a grin. "I am not worried about my position, woman." He half growled. "You know my worth. Both during working hours and after. You think they will let us go after Trafalgar?" Jill grabbed his hand. "Yes, I do know your worth. And yes, I believe Command will allow us to go after the Trafalgar after we have destroyed the Miranda and the Pegasus." They then approached their quarters. If it was one thing Jill hated, it was the cramp living spaces aboard a Defiant Class. She wanted to only relax at the moment. "Tonight let's not talk about the war. How about you make us something to eat, woman!" He slapped her playfully on the butt. Jill chuckled and gave him a playful salute in return. "Yes, sir." She moved to the replicator and ordered the the raw steaks. Maar liked his food to be cooked, not replicated and ready to eat. Maar sat himself down on the small couch and put his feet on the table. "Can you bring me a cold beer, love!" he shouted towards the kitchen area. Jill turned and looked at her lover. "Maar, I am not your slave, I am your lover. Get your own beer. I am busy cooking our dinner." She turned and placed the raw steaks onto the plasma burners that she had installed in their larger than normal but still cramped quarters. Grumbling, he walked over to the fridge. Because she bossed him around at work he kept trying to push the boundaries when they were at home. "How long is it going to take, Jill. I am hungry." He said in neutral tone of voice. "It will be a few minutes. Thats what you get for wanting your food cooked instead of replicated already prepared." "But your cooking is so nice." He gave her his best smile. "And you brother looks like he can use some homecooking." She returned his smile. "Thank you, my love, and yes, I imagine he could use a cooked meal. He should be here in a few minutes." Jill turned and continued to cook the food. Man'darr hadn't approved of Maar at first, but they became good friends after a battle about a month ago which Jill was glad as she loved Maar and wanted him to get along with Man'darr well. "Pitty he wasn't able to kill that human ex-bitch of his. From the stories I have heard she was a pittyfull whiner in need of extermination." Maar sniffed the food. "Good, love!" Jill was happy that he no longer called her simply woman. She liked being called love better, but she accepted his dominant role over her after they had first committed to each other. "Yes, she was. Perhaps we will be able to capture her alive, and you could teach her some...manners." "Oh I would like that, I would like that very much." He grinned. The door chime sounded. "Come in," Jill called. Man'darr entered, dressed in a fresh uniform. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner." "Anytime, bro." "Good to see you, Man'darr." Maar clapped him on the back. "Tough time, mate?" "Yes, it has been tough," Man'darr was still thinking about Nina. "How have you been, Maar?" "Fine. Your sister is taking good care of me." He grinned. "Sorry to hear about your girlfriend. She was a decent sort." He was not good at this emotional kind of thing. Most capellan's weren't. "Thank you. I am glad to hear Jill is taking good care of you." "Well, dinner is ready," Jill called as she fixed the plates. Oh yeah, I'm taking real good care of him, she thought sarcastically. Obeying him off duty and having sex whenever he desired, which was just about daily. Not that she was complaining--Maar was very good when it came to sex. "Your sister is a good woman." Maar said giving her a smile. In the beginning he had had problems with her being an independent woman and above him in work, but now their relationship worked and they were happy together. "Yes, she is," Man'darr confirmed, as he looked at Jill. The three sat down and began to eat their dinners. Jill's thoughts turned to the upcoming battle. She was worried about going against the Pegasus--the pride of the Dove Fleet. The Pegasus was a Pegasus Class vessel and held some of the most up-to-date technologies. She then thought of the glory she would receive if she were able to capture its commander, Captain Alexandra Lee. Captain Lee was now a very wanted person by Hawk Command, especially since destroying one of their major shipyards just recently. If they could only get an assault team on board and hit the bridge.... - Hide quoted text - "You are quiet?" Maar said to his lover. "Thinking about battle strategies?" Jill grinned. "Yeah. Deciding the best way to take out the Pegasus." "Ambitious." Maar grinned at Man'darr. "This one is so special for a woman. Not many women in our culture do so well." He was actually pretty proud of her. "Yes, she is ambitious," Man'darr agreed. Jill smiled. "Thanks, bro. I try," she joked. "Hopefully Command will assign you to your own ship soon. You deserve it." "Absolutely." Maar agreed. "And that way you can your revenge on the bitch. You should have snapped her neck instead of divorcing her." "I felt like doing so at times, but it is against human customs to kill a person outright. At the moment, she is secondary as I intend on taking my children from her as she had done so to me. They are capellan, not humans." Though Man'darr knew they inherited both human and capellan traits. "I should go," Man'darr said, upon finishing his meal. In truth, Man'darr did not feel like socializing but rather taking his frustration out on something at the gym that he knew Jill had installed in liu of a science lab. Jill stood from the table as Man'darr stood. She understood that Man'darr often worked things out alone...he always had. "I'll see you back on duty, bro." Man'darr nodded. "Yes. Thank you for the dinner," he then exited the quarters. "He okay?" Maar asked, not really getting it. "I thought he would stay and get drunk together like in the old times." "Yeah...he just needs time to think about everything that has happened recently. He really cares about his children that London keeps from him. He has just been through alot recently, but hes fine. I guess that just leaves us," she said as she finished her last slice of steak. "Oh you got something in mind for tonight?" Maar grinned. Jill raised a playful eyebrow. "Don't I always?" "Come to bed woman." He ordered with a playful smile. Jill smiled. "Yes, master," she joked with a giggle. "Grave Stones"
Staring: Chandrakala Eshe And K'vol
*** [2402] Location: Qo'noS ***
I'd been here many times throughout the years that followed that fateful day, the day that ended our lives on Qo'noS. At first my annual trips were for scientific purposes, the tainted soil had to be analyzed, studied and catalogued. Discoveries had to be made, life had to be saved, fitting perhaps that the one thing that sustained us would hold the cure to save us, even though we had deserted it, still Qo'noS held the answers that a nation needed to survive. Ironic some would say.
But I came here now for a different purpose. For a morbid purpose. A masochistic purpose.
I didn't know that he had followed, but as I heard the stressed limping behind me, the soft grunts he made as he hobbled, straining to lift the damaged half of his body, I knew it was him and I knew why he had come.
Part of me was surprised that he hadn't come before, another was angered that he did now and another felt guilty that my inability to let the past rest had made him drag his sorry ass all the way here. It couldn't have been easy for him.
He stumbled and instantly I turned to help, but he stopped me with just one raised digit. Did he know how much it hurt that he pushed me away, did he know how annoying it was to have to wait minutes for him to explain what he wanted, did he know how much time it would save if I just did everything for him and did he know how much I hated him for asking me to do anything for him?
"Why have you come here?" he asked me, leaning heavily on his cane, watching me closely with his only eye. I noticed the distance he'd left between us and I knew that he knew that I knew he'd done it on purpose. He wasn't such a cripple that he couldn't make the distance, he just refused. Like a petulant child he would make me cross the divide, but I didn't, I wouldn't, not this time. I would not concede.
"You died here K'vol," I said tonelessly, "you stopped living the day this happened and I have been living with a ghost of a man ever since." It was direct, blunt and to the point, just how he liked it. Yet he said nothing in return. I could hear the whirring in his head, slotting what I said into place, pulling old conversations from the recess of his mind forward in an effort to add context to it. I heard him grind his teeth.
"This is the place where I live now," I told him gesturing to the rubble before me, "in the perpetual fire," I saw him twitch at that. It was a subtle movement that only a keen eye would detect, or a wife that knew of the demons that plagued her husband's nightmares.
"…wondering if you will live or die," I continued, "watching my every move, wondering when your anger will strike." I touched my cheek reflectively and paused, sometimes I wondered if he knew the things he did, if his mind had been damaged too or just his body. Yet every day I wondered where the man I loved had gone. "It's not just you living with a disability…" I spat at him feeling the flames rise within me.
He heard the tone in my voice, saw the anger that set within my stance and I saw his. It matched my own for a moment as I held his gaze, and then it grew.
"I should have died there," he retorted snatching up his cane, "you shouldn't have saved me Kala," he shuffled towards me awkwardly, shaking his stick at me, "you denied me a warriors death!" he told me firmly thwacking the globed end upon my chest.
I felt the welt begin to smart but I kept the pain to myself. I'd felt worse. "There was no honourable death to be had there K'vol," I replied with more sorrow than I realised, "a terrorist attack by your enemy, too afraid to even face you," I shook my head. Feeling the prickly onset of tears I stared harder trying to make sure that they didn't well and pool, "…there is no honour in that…" I finished and turned, wiped my nose quickly and pretended to inspect the view.
"And there is no honour in this life." I heard him whisper enraged. "You took death from me!" he yelled grabbing my shoulder and spinning me to face him, "you took my end and left me with this…" directing his cane he indicated his crippled body, the arm that hung at his side, the curved in foot that he hobbled on, the scarred tissue that disfigured his face and cost him an eye.
"… this existence where I am not a man, and not a warrior," his body shook with repressed rage as he forced the words from his lips, "I am nothing to my people and yet you still make me lead them. For what reason? So they can linger in the marks of where I stumble?"
His nostrils flared and I felt his spittle on my face.
I said nothing. "Old Flames" Starring: James Lionel Corgan ISS Stolen Heart Rebecca von Ernst USS Shiva
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"We got communications up yet?" "Ten minutes. Tops." "That's what you said ten minutes ago. Are we making progress or not?" SHIVA was having a bad day. The earlier stealthy cat and mouse game with the Dove flotilla had broken down into a more conventional full scale break out attempt, as the powerful dreadnought went to full speed in an effort to throw off her tiny pursuers and make a run for open space. The Dove Flotilla was still back there however, dogging the big ship relentlessly like hound nipping at the heels of a dangerous beast. Not that Shiva couldn't fight back. Dangerous even under the worst of circumstances, Rebecca had guided the dreadnought with her usual mathematical precision through two perfect ambushes that had left a pair Dove light cruisers burning in space. Now her foes were more wary, and the remaining pack had backed off, content to take the occasional potshot, all the while screaming their subspace heads off broadcasting the position and course of the Shiva to anybody who happened to be listening.
The hunt was on for the Hawks biggest ship, and for the moment at least, it seemed the hounds were gaining the upper hand.
Sitting cross-legged in her oversized command chair, the slight form of Rebecca von Ernst rested her tiny chin on her fists and glowered at the display screens. The Math there didn't lie…it never did. This would be so much easier if her only goal was to merely kick-butt. I mean Hello, but any nincompoop could see the diverging irrational matrices were canceling each other out in the 11th dimensional subset of primes…..duh. Unfortunately the advanced mathematics that were her forte also predicted heavy damage for the Shiva in return for the Doves destruction, and while her primary goal remained that of rescuing her daughter…..she could not risk falling behind. ~Noodles on a Stick!~~ she grumped to herself. Time and again new and interesting combat variables trailed their way across her mind, but every time she was forced to abandon them in light of her higher goal. This was the weakness that had frustrated Starfleet planners in the beginning of her career. If the mission called for general mayhem and destruction, then the skinny little redhead from Minnesota was Gods gift to warmongers everywhere. If however a degree of subtlety or guile was in order, capturing a ship intact for example…..well…..at least sometimes they could still piece together some of the wreckage she left behind. ~~Decisions decisions.~~~ she mused, scrunching her freckled nose at some random itch. ~~Kill everybody…but not be able to rescue Allison……or rescue her first…then go kill everybody. ~~~ She sighed. Patience was not a von Ernst trait. "Communications hel-lo?" she called over her shoulder. "Ten minutes captain." ~~Yeah yeah.~~ Rebecca sighed making little 'talking blah blah blah' motions with her hands. "Whats the status on our pursuers? Still back there?" "Yes Ma'am. Three Dove cruisers trailing at 0.5 light years. They're still on the horn trying to rouse up some support to throw in our path. Maybe try another go at us." "Doubtful." Rebecca shook her head. They wouldn't be that stupid. As long as Shiva was being hunted and tracked, that noodle head Jii and the Miranda were getting farther and farther away. The Doves didn't need to defeat Rebecca….they just needed to keep her from winning free. "Engines?" "Fully repaired Ma'am." came the one spot of good news. "Full Transwarp available, although I don't need to tell you that at that speed every ship in the quadrant would be able to track us. Would help besides….Shiva wasn't built for speed." "She's big and old, but Miranda is even older. We can outrun her if we can gain some maneuvering room." the captain replied. "We just need a little distraction to get out of this net….give our mercenaries time to do their work. Have our own Hawk forces responded yet?" The reply was a bit embarrassed. "We…..ah…we seem to be a bit of the black sheep of the fleet currently captain. Nuking Earth seems to have irritated some of the higher ups in our own fleet. Response to our hails are being ignored for the most part." Rebecca shook her head, feeling the floor length trail of red hair billow about her thin shoulders. Okay maybe nuking earth was a bit of an overreaction, and sure there were members of the Hawk fleet that would love to have the infamous von Ernst out of their hair forever, but still…..to let a fellow ships distress calls go unanswered…. In a way it was liberating. She was tired of all the politics and the infighting. Humanity and the Federation deserved to die if this is the kind of crap that came out in people. Maybe killing them all wasn't such a bad idea after all….Doves and Hawks. "Communications are up ma'am….subspace frequencies open." Just as soon as she got her daughter back she decided. They they'd all die. "Open a channel to the ISS Stolen Heart." she gave the tight lipped command. "Let me talk to James Corgan." ~~Let me talk to my husband.~~
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: "How the fuck did she get this number?!" Chasing down the temporal signatures left behind by Allison like a dog chasing its own tail, The Stolen Heart was left to languish in space, avoiding both side's patrols while staying true to whatever random chaos passed for the trail of the Federation's first real chrononaut. For all they knew Allison was somewhere between a Dove Starbase and the myriad of warp trails left behind by the banjo playing masses engaging in an old fashion chase. Getting a more definitive picture without being shot at by both sides was proving difficult. James entertained the idea of doing something crazy and stupid again, like loading his runabout full of anti-matter and threatening to play tag with a starship until either side coughed up Allison and gave him some answers. T'lan did not approve. Her idea of commando style shipboardings were just as ludicrous. James was pulling up the suicide vest plans until the Shiva hailed him on an ultra secret frequency. It was a hail only he and a few others knew. Rebecca was one of those few others, and the only one still alive. ~"There is in no way I want to talk to my ex-wife."~ "James," T'lan, the sensible significant other of James that didn't die, impregnate herself with his dna, or blow up a planet, entered in with typical Vulcan serenity, "Our search for Allison is at an impasse. Perhaps we should answer her hail." James grumbled, "Fine, but put the ship on red alert, then put her on screen. At this point I don't trust the bi..." Silenced by the screen, James saw his ex-wife for the first time in many years. As it was when he first meet her waiting nervously at the counselor's waiting room, when she'd gone without a word from the Galaxy, when they meet again at the Babel Conference anniversary on Mars, then the night James proposed to her next to the SeaWorld whale tanks, their wedding night before he shipped out to the Kindjal to fight off one of the first of many devastating Triad advances, even the times when all he had were subspace communications to keep it together until the last day when distance and guilt for not being there drove him away from speaking to her, and all until the day she finalized their divorce over subspace. Rebecca might have been a little older, her face showing a slightly more sallow quality, wrinkles beginning to crease her eyes and cheeks, her hair losing part of its brilliant fiery lustre, yet it was undeniable. She still held the qualities of the cute, vulnerable young girl James wanted to protect all those years ago, the woman he wanted just once to accept his overtures of friendship without strings, just once beg a smile from her unwavering lips or a warmth directed to him from her icy cold stare. All he wanted those years was to make her happy, and in return feel some love from her. Whether it was there or not was irrelevant. James never felt her love. She went through motions, put up walls and closed herself off to the world. And all James did with her was chase a memory, tried to use her as refuge from a previously lost love, and found that the girl he loved in her was gone, and the reality he faced would forever be to him cold and dead. And yet he felt responsible for what she became. Not because he made her, but because she told him not to be so nosy, and as a result James watched helplessly as circumstances made her an Ice Queen, a Puppet and then a Planet Killer. And this woman that replaced the memory he loved looked back at him. And he felt his once love for her turn to fear and guilt. ~"I've only myself to blame."~ "James." Rebecca began without preamble. "Its about Allison…" "Old Flames part II" Starring: James Lionel Corgan ISS Stolen Heart Rebecca von Ernst USS Shiva
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"James." Rebecca began without preamble. "Its about Allison…" James dropped diplomacy. He let his heart speak in his own crude, down to earth manner, "Somehow I doubt it's just about Allison, Rebecca. You have a lot to answer for, Becks, and you have a lot of nerve to call me." "Whatever, just shut up and listen for a second you noodle head. She's gone!" Rebecca burrowed her brown eyes into those of her long lost lover. "Jii took her, and Daren too probably. They took her James. They kidnapped our daughter!" James huffed, pacing his bridge, T'lan took his side, trying to assert her dominance, but stepped aside as James paced into her path. James thought over what to reveal to Rebecca, but it seemed to him that he was a few steps ahead of her, more in the know than she. It was an advantage he didn't want to press yet, but he couldn't reveal what he knew about the Dove's plans, "I know. Victor told me. I trust him, and I trust Jii and M'Kantu, even if they're in the damn Civil War. They won't hurt her. I can't say the same about your Hawks." Rebecca's jaw actually dropped a little as James spun his little story. "Are you gone mental Jim?" she gaped. "Are you actually telling me that everything is okie-dokey? Hello! What's left of Earth to Jimmy Corgan! What part of 'they kidnapped our daughter' don't you understand? " "I understand that, up until you PISSED THEM OFF by blowing up the Earth, that they were trusted former comrades!" She wagged a petite little finger at the view screen. "A couple of Starfleet goons kidnapped little Alli right out from under my nose, and you are trying to tell me its okay because 'its all part of the plan?' Did you get syphilis of the brain from all your little green blooded chippies?" T'lan peeped, "I do not have syphilis. That is an impossibility due to..." "Watch it, 'Becca. That's my wife you're talking to." James stressed the word, "The one that understood when I had to go out on the front lines making sure no crazy fuckjob came to Earth with an invasion fleet to raze it to cinders, which thanks to you I might as well have not bothered. She understood that I had to go out there. She was there with me to protect you, Allison, and million families like ours, so I wouldn't speak ill of her, little miss planet killer!" "Don't give me that 'greater good' speech Mister." Rebecca crossed her arms over her thin chest. "It didn't work that night with the Meatloaf and it wont work now!" James sputtered, "You're bringing up the meatloaf incident... after all this time... and in front of my crew. Jesus that's harsh." Rebecca pouted, her eyes actually glistening. "I put a lot of work into that Meatloaf…how was I supposed to know you were allergic to real non replicated beef enzymes. You could have at least tried it! " she sighed. "Instead of faking some emergency call from Starfleet." "So you rather my neck swell like a Beryllian puffer fish until I choked out and had to either die or do my breathing through a straw. Well excuse me if I didn't want to worry you when THAT happened! Oh, and there was an emergency. The Hydrans attacked Barnard's Planet. I had to depart with the Kindjal and take out that brushfire. Millions were about to die. But did you care? No. All you cared about was your fucking meatloaf." "It was our anniversary you poop-head! " Rebecca's eyes actually misted a little. "We were supposed to be on vacation!" T'Lan tried to raise a hand, "Excuse me, but perhaps the emotional dynamic of your relationship is the very reason for Allison's disillusionment with both parental units, and your arguing while she is in crisis only lends weight to the argument...." "And another thing..." James spoke out in a lordly manner, "You could have at least been a bit friendlier yourself. Hi's and I love you's went out after our first year. What the hell?! You were cold as ice. Would it kill you to be nice?" "Me?!" Rebecca was aghast. "I'm nice. I'm very nice. You there crewman nobody….tell that noodle head I'm nice." Jumping to attention, the Shiva's tactical officer snapped off a salute. "Aye ma'am! SIR! The Admiral is very nice sir! Sir Quite nice sir. In fact sir, the Admiral is the epitome of niceness in the quadrant sir!" The rehearsed military manner in which the answer was delivered left crew members on both bridges shaking their heads. "There." Rebecca noted smugly. "A completely unbiased opinion. Even my random crew members have more sense of tact and taste than you do Jim." "Oh sure! Blame me! Hell, at least your mom was friendly, god she was friendly enough for a dozen people. In fact, your mom was so friendly and helpful that I couldn't get her to shut the hell up and leave me the hell alone! By gods can that woman TALK MY ASS OFF!" "You leave my mother out of this!" Rebecca snapped back defensively The assembled bride crews of the Shiva and the Stolen Heart sat silently on the sidelines as the shared dirty linen of their respective commanders were aired for interstellar display. None had ever seen this side of their Captains, and the all too human display made for something of an embarrassing spectacle. "Look laser brains." Rebecca said at length. "Your 'shortcomings' aside.." "Which in my defense, you've never found any in the bedroom..." "BOTH OF YOU, THAT'S ENOUGH!" T'lan hollered over both, the might of a Vulcan enraged was enough to stop the quarrelling couple and grab the attention of both ship's crews. He continued to chastise James and Rebecca like two feuding children, "This is about Allison's well being, not your past marriage. It is unfair to put the child in the middle of your arguments. What is past is past, your mistakes are all done and cannot be reversed. What was between you two is irrelevant in the here and now, so stop this illogical nonsense and start talking about how we'll assure Allison's safety! NOW!" James, paled and a little ashamed, swallowed his throat and kept down the bats that wanted to escape his stomach. When T'lan was angry, she was a force of nature that couldn't be stopped. James found it best to let her be angry, and beg for forgiveness later. And she did have a valid point, James began to think. T'lan, meanwhile, bowed and apologized politely, "I am sorry for my emotional outburst, but not sorry for my message. Allison may not like me, but I have always meant well on the few occasions we have meet, and I helped James protect her. I care for her well being, though I am not her mother, because I respect you both too much to do otherwise, and I would be remiss to not do so. So please... think of her well being before you continue." "All apologies." James gruffly snorted, "Continue." Curled up in her chair, Rebecca was absolutely seething at being talked to like this by THAT Vulcan. For all her life, skinny little Rebecca had been somewhat self-conscious about her looks, and the fact that her husband had shacked up with that slim dark haired beauty hadn't helped matters. "Okay,"she said, "Maybe just this once your girl with the big bazoonga's has a point. THE FACT remains that our minor daughter is now being lugged halfway across whats left of Federation space by a gang of interstellar has-beens against her will, and might I remind you….against the will of her proper court appointed guardian…..That would be me in case you forgot bucko." James crossed his arms, "That court was disbanded with the Civil War. What semblance of a justice system is gone. The Federation Supreme court was destroyed with earth. Your case doesn't apply anymore. The fact that it was you who pulled the trigger and killed billions alone qualifies you as stark raving nutters. If I had any common sense, I should fly over to the Shiva and arrest you. The fact that we have a history means I'm talking to you instead of doing so." Rebecca scoffed. "Oh right….like you ever stood a chance of……" James halted her, his lip and an outstretched index finger quivering, "Don't start with me. You killed my sister, my niece, my nephew and... you also killed Nuhir. She was on Earth with The Mika Machine. Congrats. You whacked my daughter and Allison's half sister. Thanks a fucking lot. So forgive me if I'm a little short with you right now, and a little peeved that you would dare call me to pick up Allison for you. You better have a good reason why I shouldn't retrieve Allison myself and get her out of Federation space, because I'll be damned if you or M'Kantu will use her as a pawn. Go on. Make your case." Instead, Rebecca was thinking. Something had just occurred to her, and thanks to her unfailing memory she could simple hit the rewind button on the conversation and bring up the transcript. "Wait a minute cow brains. Did you just say a minute ago that you already talked to Victor Krieghoff? YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?" Rebecca came out of her chair and stood in her full five-foot-nothing of glory, her cape of red hair waving about her ankles. "You knew that they were going to steal our daughter and you did nothing! " She looked at the man on the screen with disgust wondering how she could ever have let him touch her. "You miserable bastard. You let them take her! James Lionel Corgan you better with I never get away from these incompetant Dove ships or I'll hunt you down to the end of the universe." "Calm down!" James snapped, "You've always jumped to conclusions! I've been out of the loop for the past year. I heard from Victor himself that Allison was back in this time period. The fact is I'm going over there to find answers and make sure they aren't just using her. You have to remember they're my comrades. I have to give them the benefit of the doubt."
"Comrades? She's my daughter!" Rebecca's mathematical brain was already calculating a 12th dimensional inversion matrix chock-full of yummy ways to blow Corgan out of the stars. "Up to a minute ago I also thought she was your daughter as well, but it seems you'd rather pawn that responsibility off on the latest greatest political fad. Our sixteen year old is not going to be the poster child for Hope and Change, Buckaroo." He ignored her. ~"Fuck sakes... she can't think past herself and I can't prove that I care enough. This is a goddamn impasse."~ "Becca... just let me find her. I'll make sure she's ok. You have my word." James stepped aside to one side of the Shiva's viewscreen, "There is something else. I went to Earth. I saw what you did. I also brought someone back, and I'm sure she'll not be thrilled to see you. But she insisted, and though I shouldn't I can't say no." The tiny redhead merely shrugged. "She? Another Alien girlfriend with big bazooms? You're so predictable James." "Dora, you're on. Meet Rebecca." The viewscreen split, routed to the Stolen Heart's computer room. What should have been a long cylindrical Excelsior class computer core was an alien landscape of coils, tubes, wires and leads conversing on a elaborate metal coffin. The cables and tubes converged into the coffin and into the back of the coffin's occupant. The occupant was a small Andorian woman, lithe and withered from disused limbs and resurrected biology, eyes white and vacant from cataracts, staring blankly, but not focusing on a target. Small cybernetics pierced the skin and attached to the antennae, and a mouth gasped and wheezed in a caricature of life. Rebecca saw The Mika Machine face to face. "Laaadddyyy of cccchainssss." Dora's voice distorted digitally, rasping as if parched for a sea of drink, "The iiiice queeeeeen. Her prrresence upsets meee." James reassured, "You're a good girl, Dora. Be brave." Rebecca waved her hand impatiently. "What is this fluff? Are you trying to make me feel sorry for myself or for you? What is this dead girlfriend week? I didn't do that to Mika, although I have to wonder what's worse, me putting the earth out of its misery, or you carting around the Corpse Bride everywhere you go."
"Be nice to my new computer core, Rebecca." James narrowed his eyes, "She's more important than you think. Allison's little time machine used technology gathered from the Voyager files, some sort of temporal DNA lock from a race called the Krenem. Alli wanted to visit the past me, and she was as close to me as anyone could get. The fact that your company wired her up was done by your boyfriend Lysander, and done out of spite towards me, and somewhat not related to the crisis. Doesn't mean we're both not pissed off about it. Oh, and I don't think she liked you. Why is that?" "Ssssshackled and chaaained." Dora droned. James continued, "The fact remains that you nearly stranded my baby girl in time, on top of killing what was left of my family. The fact that she was already back in this time period puts her in more danger." Rebecca shook her head, "Allison was perfectly safe. I did the calculations myself, and there was no error. Hel-lo the fact she showed up exactly when and where she was supposed to confirms that. Not my fault Jii and his band of boyscouts decided to kidnap her." "She shouldn't have been there at all!" "Secondly," she continued, "The whole reason Alli went back in time was because her dad was too much of a poopyhead in this time frame to even stop by and say howdy on Christmas or birthdays. I tried to tell her it was a useless gesture, but she inherited some of your stubbornness and was bound and determined to find this fantasy dad somewhere back in time. Wanna bet on how that turned out?" James bowed his head. He had similar falling outs with his father, long dead, but curious longings of what it would have been like had they been amiable. He knew what it was to be that teenager looking for approval and not getting it. "Knowing me... very badly. The poor girl..." Rebecca opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted when the whole ship suddenly shuddered, her image fizzing out temporarily on the screen. "Noodles...hate to interrupt this chit chat lover-boy, but it seems your peace-loving comrades are making another attempt to kick my tail." The dark red glare of emergency lights lit the Shiva's bridge. "Look," she leaned in closer to the viewscreen and locked him up in an pleading brown eyed stare, "I know you hate me James...I don't really know why you ever pretended to love me. Maybe I'm just another one of your numerous conquests, but dang it all....she's our daughter. Help her....please?" James answered, "Remember all those years ago, when you told me not to interfere with your problems? That was the biggest mistake I've ever made. If I had been more involved with you, I might have saved you, or even an entire planet. I've only myself to blame... and so much to make up for." James smiled. Tipping his hat, his grand gesture and grin had a defiant, roguish quality. "And I can start by helping Allison! That... I can promise to do. I will find her, Rebecca. I will also give you the dignity of seeing her again. Afterwards... then we'll see where we go from there." His ex-wife opened her mouth to reply, but instead shut it and nodded sadly. Behind her engineering consoles exploded into showers of sparks and the bridge crew flew from their chairs, but the tiny redhead only seemed to have eyes for the viewscreen. "I....I trust you James...I...I'm sorry but." she swallowed and lowered her voice toa whisper, "If...if it helps there's never been...you know...you were the only...." A deep blush highlighted her cute little freckles. Rebecca had always been shy about certain topics, and no more need be said. Corgan could only nod, wondering if that bit of information was helpful or hurtful. Ordering his bridge crew to set course for the 'trail' (code for his temporal signature), James turned his back to continue on his work, but as he was nagged by an unconcealed feeling, he stopped, and addressed Rebecca again. His eyes showed the sadness of years and the mountains of regret. "'Becca, I never pretended to love you. That was real, but it doesn't mean I can't hate what you've become." The answer was delivered to static however....somewhere far out in the darkness Shiva was fighting for its life, leaving James Corgan alone with his decision. ~"God help us both, 'Becca, for we're all monsters."~ The decision was a quick one. "Set course for Allison. Time's a wastin'." 7069 |