"Pull Out Your Party Hats Pt 2"

Lieutenant (jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineer

Lt. Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

Lieutenant (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineer

Lieutenant Zack Jackson
Damage Control Systems Chief

*** Ten-Forward ***

"Belly of the Whale"

By Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

Hours crept by, with no luck. Other than the occasional casual conversation with other cell occupants around him, Curran floated in place. He simply couldn't locate an exit. The chamber was spherical in shape from what he could gather. The walls felt like living material after more careful examination.

It... pulsed. It... writhed. It... shifted.

His eyes drooped, without feeling tired. The singing echoed in his ears. He gave himself over to the euphoria. The tempo of the music undulated him onto the waves. If he was dying, then he would die with a peaceful restitude as the last thoughts on his mind.

In the belly of the whale, the Kelvan drifted. He assumed the songs were of the herd and he was slowly being digested in its belly. He wasn't a Marine Biologist by any stretch, but he knew that if they had beamed down into some form of mammal or creature on Quentin, the possibility exists that even if he were to break free from this prison of sorts, he might still face greater perils beyond.

And so, he stretched out, and inhaled the sweet delirium that transfixed him.

That is until an ominous thump and grind trembled its way through him. The music emitted a piercing shrill, then stopped altogether. Curran's eyes snapped open as the feeling of being truly alone set in. Fear began to take hold. He knew the Quentishari had gone back to their primitive roots. Had they attacked the herd?

Fear and elation mingled when the possibility of rescue came to the fore of his thoughts. He swam to Dallas' chamber, touched the material, and instantly withdrew his hand in shock at the brittle cold that permeated the material. The room beyond was growing dark, and he couldn't see Karyn easily. It darkened as the room rumbled and shook. He shivered.

Then, a gentle pull dragged him upwards. He paddled against it, but it completely enveloped him. It pressed him against the fabric that was formerly one of the delegatory aides, but now completely dark. His extremities were numbing.

Then, just as suddenly as he was feeling the light crush against the wall - thankful it was pliable - it let go, and he drifted back out to the center and downwards of the chamber when the fabric repelled him.

A stream of light cracked into the liquefied environment. Curran blinked, not fathoming what was happening. His body dropped to the floor surprisingly as the gap grew wider. He heard a roaring in his ears where he looked up.

The water level was fast coming down. His heart pounded, fearful of the theft of his soothing fluid. The ballads must have been ceased by these invaders!

At once, he was yanked out by the rush of the waters, pulled out of the tear onto a cold surface.

It was bright, too bright, and he was drowning. He couldn't breathe! He coughed and retched, bent over double and gagged. Things were touching him all over. Something was draped around him. He fell to the ground, taking great gulps of air. His numb fingers touched the liquid, and pained for it.

His one moment of solitude, of utter peace, of his Elysium, stolen from him. A tear rolled off his cheek, but no one would notice in his soaked state.

Mumblings, blobs of shape, touching, probing. He couldn't see through the lights that had dimmed, couldn't hear what the forms were saying, couldn't fight them as something was pressed to his neck, dimming his own lights, winking them out of his existence.

OOC: I am stealing the title for this post from Andrew who made it up, but then decided not to use it. I thought it was too clever to pass up. Kudos Andrew.

"This Episode brogue to you by the letter 'G' "

Starring Rebecca von Ernst

With unauthorized appearances by
James Corgan
Klaus Fienberg
Ahdjiia D'Tinya
and various NPC's

(Surface of Quentin---or is it?)

~~~If you want something done right. . . . .~~~ Rebecca von Ernst grumbled to herself as she trudged down the sandy hill toward where the others were congregating, ~~~. . . . .get in their face and yell REAL loud.~~~

Trapped on the strange world of Quentin, the Galaxy Away Team was supposed to be busily exploring a set of buried ruins recently exposed by one of the frequent Quentin-quakes that rocked the dusty little world.

Instead, the majority of the Team had halted its investigation of the buried ruins , and had instead clustered themselves into a neat little semicircle at one corner of the site.

>From the excited buzz of whispers Rebecca could hear as she approached >from behind them, they were apparently quite excited about some new discovery.

~~~Bunch of Noodleheaded slackers,~~~ Rebecca thought, ~~~Do they think we're out here just for the heck of 'exploring strange new worlds' or some hoo-ha like that?~~~

"One side folks, make a hole. . . .mean little redhead coming through!" she ordered as she elbowed her way through the assembled crowd.

"What the noodles are you folks standing around for.. . . . get back to work, if I have to . . . . . . .OH!"

The sudden squeak of surprise escaped Rebecca's lips before she could bite it off.

"Actually Commander, we think its a 'G'. "

"I can spell Ensign, I meant 'Oh' as in 'AHH!"

"Ah."

Stretched before the half-crescent line of Starfleet officers, lay a large sinkhole, exposed perhaps by the recent quakes and resulting aftershocks. It was perhaps 5 meters deep, and 100 across, and covered by a jumbled collection of sand, rock, and various debris. Below them, perhaps 10 meters away , the stalwart figures of Dr. Fienberg, and that D'Tinya lady were standing in the midst of that vast sand-covered floor.

What they had discovered however was. . . impossible.

In the exact center of this floor, the good Doctor had cleared away a large patch of sand and rocks to reveal. . . . . .a giant 30 foot tall letter -G- painted on some strange blue-gray metal that appeared to be buried beneath the sinkhole.

Even as they watched in amazement Fienberg was continuing his attempt to clear off more of the debris.

"Stand aside people. . . .make a hole. . . .Security Chief coming through." Behind Rebecca, James Corgan was just now working his way through the crowd coming at last to stand behind her in awe.

"Gee. . ." he exclaimed in wonder peering over the top of her head at the floor below.

"Very astute James. " Rebecca said, "It is a 'G'. "

A few giggles were heard throughout the crowd of onlookers.

"Allright, " Rebecca addressed them, "What happened? Where did this come from?"

There was a nervous pause until a lonely Ensign stepped forward. "It was Fienberg sir. . . errrrr ma'am. He was making some scans right here when all of the sudden the ground dropped out from under him exposing this sandy floor. . . . .After some poking and prodding it became apparent that there was something metal underneath, and thats when he discovered the 'G'. "

Nodding, Rebecca turned her attention back to the scene below. The Doctor and D'Tinya were attempting to use a phaser on low setting to clear off more of the sand, but it was proving to be a difficult process. Teh shifting particles more often than not crytalized into glass under the phasers heat creating a molten, gooey mess.

"Ensign Whateveryourname is." Rebecca pointed to some random crewmember, hike back to the OPAKA and bring back some excavating gear. . . .we need better tools for this."

The Ensign paled briefly at the order. OPAKA was over 6km away, and lugging that heavy gear back would not be an easy trek.

"Aye. ..a. . aye Commander."

Watching the Ensign trudge off into the sunset, Rebecca's attention was drawn to the darkening skies above. "And bring some LIGHTS!" she called after the Ensign's receding back.

The faint pin pricks of starlight were becoming visible in the oncoming darkness, reminding Rebecca of the results of the Starshot that James Corgan had done for her. There was no doubt about it . . .they were on the surface of Quentin, but considering the difference between were they though they would land, and where they did land it was almost unthinkable.

A flash in the sky suddenly drew Rebecca's attention, and as she turned her mind was already dismissing it as a nothing more than an errant meteor scorching its way through the atmosphere.

That was until she saw the other flashes.

"Holy moley look at the stars!" someone breathed in awe, and as the officers raised their faces, the night sky explode before them in a shower of lights and flashes high in the blackness of space above.

Green streaks shot across the sky, followed by silent explosions. . .making no noise, but somehow eerily disturbing.

"The Galaxy!" Someone explained. . ."Ive seen this before during the Dominion War. . . Its a battle in orbit between Starships of some sort."

For herself REbecca had never seen a space battle from the ground, but as she watched the dance of lights above, her mathematical mind could pick up the subtle tactical patterns that were her forte'.

"A reverse Yamaguchi Defence Pattern. . ." she whispered to herself.

Somewhere above them. . . .The Galaxy had engaged in combat with unknown forces, and was even now fighting for its life. Trapped on the surface, Rebecca suddenly felt small and insignificant. She was supposed to be the one fighting the Galaxy's battles. . . .She wondered idly if the people of Nar Hallas had seen a similar lightshow before a young Ensign von Ernst had panicked and allowed their world to be burned to a crisp.

"Communications?" she turned towards James Corgan who was already shaking his head. Comm systems with the Galaxy had been down since their arrival, and there had been no change.

Rebecca studied the lights. . . .trying to analyze. . . .trying to visualize what was going on. . . . .

"COMMANDER!" the excited shout from below drew Rebecca's attention back to the pit. "We found something . . . we found. . . . . ."

"Oh!"

"Begging your pardon Ma'am, but this time its an 'A' " put in a helpful onlooker.

And so it was. The giant 'GA' was clearly readable in sand below, painted in large black letters on that strange metal.

An uncomfortable feeling began washing over the assembled crowd. Above them the silent explosions in space were briefly forgotten as two and two wre being put together.

"No. . .way. If the Galaxy is in combat above us. . .then what is . . . . ." said someone to themselves.

Rebecca was already sliding her way down the sandy embankment kicking up a storm of rocks and debris on her way to the bottom of the depression. A look of intensity blazed in her eyes. ~~~Impossible . . . . . .~~~ she said to herself.

Reading her mind, James Corgan followed her amidst his own cloud of dust, pulling out his hand phaser in the same motion.

Fienberg and D'Tinya stood back from the pair already knowing in their minds what they were planning, but all the same they cast leary glances at the lightshow in the heavens.

Reaching the bottom, Rebecca drew her own phaser, and pumped its power up to pretty darn well near maximum. Beside her Corgan did the same, the small phaser buzzing in his hand.

"If this is the center of the 'G' and that way is the 'A'. . . . .then. . ." he said

"Then we need to look 182 meters to the Southwest . . . . ." Rebecca completed his thought, already raising her firing arm.

They fired together, the white-hot beams of destructive force blasting aside rock and stone in a manner unlike the lower settings used by Fienberg and D'Tinya. The ground before them litterally disolved itself into great sheets of glowing ionized gas, only to be carried away by the churring vortex of superheated air created by the twin phaser beams.

As quickly as they had begun, the phasers quit. The high power settings had quickly drained the charges down to nothing, but James and Rebecca calmly turned to accept a new pair of phasers from the others behind them.

They wanted answers fast. . .and were not willing to wait around using low setting.

The high pitched whine again crackled through the dry Quentin air. . . . .while overhead the space battle continued in flashes of red, green, and fiery orange.

And those phasers ran dry. . . .

It was only with the third pair of weapons that enough of the sand and rock had been vaporized to tell the tale that everyone had already guessed.

'Gee. . ." James whispered holstering the phaser.

"I wish thats all it was. . . . ."Rebecca murmured still holding her weapon limply in her hand.

Spread out in a fan before them, still smoking from the heat of the phaser beams lay a vast expanse of blue-gray duranium, pocked with tiny holes, and occasional scorch marks that had nothing to due with the recent excavation.

most horrifying however were the additional series of Letters exposed by the blasts.

'LAXY'

Which put together spelled the impossible in huge 30 foot tall letters. . . .'GALAXY'

"how long did your instruments figure this was buried here Doctor?" Rebecca inquired shaking her head.

"Thir. .Thirty years at the minimum. Maybe as long as 60 years." Fienberg answered in amazement.

"Impossible. this is frigging impossible!" someone said, but sure enough Commander von Ernst was walking across the hissing metal to the exact center of the 'X' where . . .sure enough there lay the faint outline of a small airlock hatch.

"It. . .it. . its upside down. . ."someone else stuttered, "It. . .must have flipped over during reentry and crashed upside down. . . ."

"If. . that's the Saucer section down there. . . " another wondered, "Then who the heck is fighting in orbit?"

At the Airlock, Rebecca found no power available to open the tiny hatch, but with one of the Engineer's assistance, a small bypass was run through a portable powerpack, and the tell-tale display screen flashed in neat blue lettering :

>>>USS GALAXY NCC-70637<<<<<<
>>>Auxillary Maintenance Hatch <<<<<
>>> # 47-B <<<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Shit"

"Belay that and just open it!" Rebecca snapped, her normally pale features had already whitened a further shade. The flashes of light in the sky behind her highlighted the wild look in her eyes.

Nodding the Engineer produced a small hand tool, and slowly but surely cranked the hatch back into its recess with a groan of metal.

The square of darkness before them mocked all present.

Rebecca leaned forward to give a cautious sniff. . . . . . and withdrew quickly her freckled nose crinkling in distaste.

She glanced at James Corgan, a memory of their time on the K-4 Research Station and its tomb of dead bodies coming to mind.

>From his expression it was apparent he remembered the experience too.

"There's bodies inside. . . . "she whispered, "Lots of them!"

=/\=

OOC: TOS people will remember the references to the K-4 station which had been attacked by the Hirogen and held hundreds of floating corpses. It proved to be a pivotal point in the development of Corgan and Rebecca, when she turned from stuttering idiot to ice-cold queen, and he felt their friendship dissolving.

"Worst Fears"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Lt. Curtis Geluf
Chief Operations Officer

Trudging across the dusty surface, Jeremy muttered grumpily to himself. Anyone hearing the short, grunt-like syllables coming from the helmsman's mouth would have found it incomprehensible gibberish, but Savoie knew what he was saying. Or at least, the thoughts that he was partially vocalizing. The away team hadn't been here all that long and already they had lost a shuttle and the chief engineer and now Von Ernst was sending him back to the Opaka to get some supplies.

"Mmfnmn stupid supplies," he groused as small clouds of dust rose under his feet. Maybe this was a great mission for an archeologist, but for a pilot, it was quickly becoming a great pain in the ass. "Nothing but a stupid glorified gopher . . . ." And to make it worse, Rebecca had ordered him to take Curtis Geluf with him. "The little prick . . . . he'll probably want to take control of the shuttle himself."

Coming over a small rise near the far edge of the site of the ruins, Jeremy stopped and squinted, scanning for the Kerelian past the various monoliths and chunks of debris. Pretty sure he'd found him, Savoie figured he wouldn't have to shout too loudly to get his attention; old bat ears was sure to hear him.

"C'mon Geluf, we're going for a ride," he stated more than called.

Curtis, who had been surveying the ruins, but frankly couldn't make heads or tails of them, perked up his ears at the voice behind him and turned. Squinting a bit to make out the figure, Curtis quickly identified him as Lt. Savoie and then wished he hadn't acknowledged him.

"Wonderful...." the Kerelian muttered to himself, "As if this planet trip wasn't bad enough already...."

Sighing, resigned to his fate, Curtis made his way over to the helmsman, all the while cursing his bad luck. What exactly had Jeremy meant by 'going for a ride' anyway? Surely he didn't mean they'd be working together.

"Oh God...I hope not." he said to himself, as the figure of Jeremy became clearer until the two were finally face to face.

"Glad to see you too," Savoie agreed tartly, catching Curtis' words and look as he approached. "Von Ernst wants us to get over to the shuttle to bring some supplies over. Then she wants us to head up to the Galaxy and find out why they haven’t been responding."

Curtis' eyes stayed on Jeremy.

"So, we're delivery boys then?" Curtis asked disdainfully. Then, cracking a smile, "And the Commander felt both of us were required for it? Doesn't she think you can handle it by yourself?"

It was starting already. "No, I imagine she figured since you weren't doing anything useful down here she might as well send you out to get everyone some lunch," he quipped.

Fighting the urge to retaliate, Curtis decided the sooner they left, the sooner they'd be back, and the sooner he'd be away from Savoie.

"Well then, I guessed we'd better get a move on, eh? Did she place a specific order, or should I just bring everyone a chicken sandwich?"

Without bothering to reply, Jeremy turned and headed back toward the shuttle. "She wants a buncha surveying stuff. Don't ask me what the hell it all is. I'm a pilot, not a coal miner," he muttered. "And there's more of the same on the Galaxy to get. Let's just get this done with."

"Right." Curtis agreed. "Long walk, and the earthquakes aren't going to make it any easier."

Jeremy didn't need reminding. It was perhaps a strange incongruity, but as a pilot he could endure the worst kind of turbulence and shock in flight with little concern for his own safety, but shake up the ground and he was certain the end was near.

"This place is a pit," Jeremy finally griped after a few minutes of silence.

Curtis nodded in acknowledgement, he had to agree. Quentin was a dead zone. There were no redeeming qualities about it at all, nothing but a giant wasteland.

Walking next to Jeremy, Curtis' thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the faint sounds of rumbling in the distance. By now he knew what that meant, and wasted no time in dropping to the ground.

"Savoie! Quake on the way, might want to take a seat."

"What're you talking about? I don't feel anything," he argued, turning to give Curtis a peculiar look.

"Just drop! You've got about three seconds!" Curtis pleaded with him. As much as the Kerelian dislike the helmsman, he didn't want him to get injured.

Scowling, Jeremy rather slowly got to the ground. "This is ridic-- " Then the first tremor hit. "Shit!" Jeremy yelled, his tone drastically changed. "Goddamm .. .." he cursed, baling up into a fetal position. He knew this would only get worse.

"This one's gonna be a quickie!" Curtis shouted over the noise, "It'll be over in a few seconds!"

"Stupid fucking hunk of rock!" Savoie yelled, beginning to feel a little nauseated. A few seconds was a few seconds too long as far as he was concerned.

But as Curtis had predicted, the tremors soon ceased, though Jeremy wasn't quite ready to feel relieved just yet.

Curtis popped his head up, straining his ear to listen for more tremors, but there were none to be heard.

"It's alright, it's gone for now." the Ops officer said, standing up and dusting himself off.

"I hate those damn things," Jeremy said, tentatively coming out of his curled position. "Are you sure it's done?"

"Positive." Curtis nodded, "If there *is* another one, it's at least fifteen minutes off. I can't hear any tremors in the immediate area, about ten kilometers all around.

Warily regarding Curtis as if expecting another tremor to sneak up and give Geluf a good laugh, Jeremy dusted himself off. "Let's get off this pile of interstellar refuse," he grumbled, resuming the trek to the shuttle.

The hike continued in uneventful silence. The landscape wasn't getting any prettier, and the two officers seemed to have resumed their normal dislike for each other. Curtis was once again facing noiselessness and he was finding himself slipping into that state of paranoia. Voices came into his head; screams and cries of pain echoed in his brain. The unbearable pain of it was starting to take its toll. His options were grim; continue on with the possibility of insanity, or try to talk with Savoie.

Desperate, he chose the latter.

"Well...quite a planet eh?" Curtis offered, quietly.

Savoie turned his head and silently shot the Kerelian a glance as if he'd just asked if he'd just said he could go for some hot gagh.

Curtis, immediately realizing he had said the wrong thing, opted to change the subject.

"Not too much further, then we can get off this rock." he corrected.

"And none too soon," Jeremy sourly added.

His quest for noise having ended, Curtis figured he could make it to the shuttle without trying to drag out more conversation from Savoie. Besides, Jeremy didn't seem to be in much of a talking mood. In fact, Curtis wasn't sure Jeremy *had* another mood.

After a few more minutes, it was Savoie's turn to break the silence. "Don't tell me you can hear those things," he said abruptly.

Curtis looked toward him, "The quakes?"

"Yeah."

Curtis nodded, surprised at Jeremy's sudden interest. "I can hear the rumbles the quakes emit and judge the distance they are by it."

"Wonderful," came the flat reply. "Is there anything you can't hear?"

"Out here? I could be hearing lots of things, a wide range of frequencies, if only there was something *to* hear. Until a few minutes ago I could still hear the away team over by the ruins." Curtis explained.

"Bunch of geeks, falling all over themselves over some big letter," he snorted. "Now -there's- a much more interesting sight," Jeremy continued, pointing to the faint outline of the Opaca ahead.

Curtis followed the finger to the shuttle, a welcome sight indeed.

"Finally. Let's get this done with." he said, pausing a moment to listen.

"Hmmm...." he exclaimed, slightly concerned.

Stopping, Jeremy faced Curtis. "What?" he demanded, his brow knitted in annoyance.

Curtis stood perfectly still, taking in all he could of the sound.

"Odd...I hear something, sounds like a quake...but it's at least 8 kilometers off...." Curtis said, abruptly cutting himself off, though it was obvious there was more to the story.

This time Jeremy wasted no time for further warning. "Let's go!" he shouted, ready to sprint for the shuttle.

Curtis didn't move, still in a trance.

"This is different...it's not like that other one. It's so loud already, I shouldn't be hearing it at this intensity until its a lot closer. That can only mean...."

Curtis' eyes suddenly became wide with horror, "Jeremy....this one is huge, we have to get out of here....now!"

[Backpost]

"Make way for the Blonde"

Major Jaiana McCormick
Vanguard Division Commander
Starfleet Marine Corps

----------Star Base 212----------

Starfleet Marines were held to a certain high standard. They were the best of the best, people able to endure strenuous physical training and were often the first into a dangerous situation and the last out. People had a certain image of how a Marine was supposed to appear: they were supposed to be heroic, the type of figure one wanted to see riding in to save the day; muscular and handsome, hard, serious, someone who takes no-bullshit from anyone. A Marine was an all around large and powerful presence.

At first glance, Jaiana McCormick was far from any of this and for reasons beyond the fact that she was a woman. She was barely five foot seven, and even then, only so with her boots on. While she certainly had an athletic build, her body was slender with small shoulders and feminine curves. She was also blonde. Very blonde: platinum blonde. And she had a light, perfect tan, large blue eyes, and immaculately manicured pink fingernails. To say the least, she was a different type of Marine, and one who got a bit of sick enjoyment out of that difference. In her mind, she could not find the point of being a stereotype.

She had received her new assignment only a week earlier, on the heals of a promotion she had not been expecting. Unlike the typical Marine, Jaiana had a small part of her which doubted her abilities and questioned the motivations of her rise in the ranks-- not that she would allow that to show. Honestly, though, pretenses and image aside, she found it disturbing how quickly they were putting new pips on her collar, and while it was not exactly unusual in a post-Dominion War/Militarized Starfleet society to promote promising and militarily minded individuals, Jaiana still thought of herself as a bit of a mediocre novice. She found herself to be rather unimpressive. She did what she did because she had too, and did no more than what any Marine would. The counselor she saw once a month on her last posting (done only because of regulations) decided this inner self-confidence issue was her psyche trying to deal with the comments and opinions of others -- the counselor said that even though Jaiana's consciousness ignored the comments and jokes on the outside, her sub-conscious she was battling with the self-doubt those words would induce within anyone.

Of course, the newly commissioned Major found that all absolutely ridiculous. In her mind, counselors were a joke. But Starfleet got tired of Marines cracking from all the stress and pressure and so she would be relieved from duty if she did not attend monthly sessions.

A pair of yellow shirt security officers stood outside the airlock doors leading to the Galaxy, checking the credentials of all who wanted to come aboard. It was standard since the war. Jaiana frankly found it an excellent idea; she had never been too comfortable with the idea that they were safe, especially docked. Terrorism was too real and could happen anywhere. It took a while for the Federation to realize it. It was beginning to disturb her again because they were slowly relaxing the security: it had once been marines patrolling the docking bays. Now it was just a pair of security personnel standing outside and checking padds.

She presented hers to the ensign closest to her. He cocked an eyebrow her direction, then glanced at the padd, then looked back at her. She wasn't in uniform: she hated wearing her uniform when she wasn't on duty and she was scheduled to report to any superior officers for another three hours yet. Major Jaiana McCormick wore low-slung black pants and a fitted baby pink top which bore her flat, tan stomach and pierced navel. She had a black leather jacket pulled over the off-duty ensemble which was completed by dark sunglasses, large hoop earrings, and her jewel studded lip and nose piercings. Her platinum hair, woven (for the moment) with thick black extensions, was pulled back into a messy half ponytail. She had her large standard-issue (and stuffed full) duffel bag thrown over her shoulder-- it probably weighed as much as she did, but they were trained to carry that and more without breaking a sweat.

"Major?" the Ensign questioned, half-amused.

She took off her sunglasses and looked firmly at him. "Major Jaiana McCormick, Starfleet Marine Corps. Is there something funny, Ensign?" she asked, the New York accent she inherited from her parents thick, blunt, and abrasive. "Because unless there is a problem with some of my paperwork there, I suggest you wipe that smirk off that mug of yours, stop gawking and step aside so I can board that ship. I take a lot'a shit from a lot'a people, but not from navy security ensigns."

They hesitated a moment, glanced between one another, and then typed something and handed the padd back to her. "Your quarters assignment is on the padd. Welcome aboard the Galaxy, Major," the second said.

"She's lucky to have me," Jaiana replied snatching the padd away from him and brushing by into the airlock and through to the corridors of the large galaxy-II class starship.

-----------The Galaxy------------

Her quarters were on Deck 16 with the rest of the Marines, which was exactly the way she'd wanted it. Her direct commanding officer was a man by the name of Corran Rex, a joined trill, and navy fighter pilot. A lieutenant junior grade. That annoyed her slightly-- in the customary rank comparisons, she outranked him by two levels, but he was standard Starfleet and therefore looked upon more favorably. At least, so she saw it. She usually did not care for the 'navy', but since he was a fighter jockey she would give him a chance.

Jaiana nodded at the officers who acknowledged her as she made her way down through the ship and onto Deck 16. Being an officer-- and the division commander at that-- she had her own quarters, and they weren't exactly small. She wouldn't go so far as to call them large, but they were certainly larger than on her last assignment.

She dropped the duffel by the door and brushed back strands of hair as she surveyed them: the general Spartan design. Perfect for sprucing up, which she would proceed to do over the next few days in between drill training and completing all the formalities.

"Computer, compose message to Lieutenant junior grade Corran Rex -- 'Lieutenant', this is Major Jaiana McCormick, Starfleet Marine Corps; I have just arrived aboard the Galaxy. Please contact me at your earliest convenience so I can formally report in.' End message and send." It beeped in response and Jaiana nodded, hefting up the duffel again and throwing it on the bed so she could begin to unpack. She hoped this would not be as frustrating an assignment as it had the potential of being.

OOC: Hey all, happy to be back and looking forward to role playing on the Galaxy...

"Arrival"

Written by

Ensign Aayla Me
Counselling Officer,
USS Galaxy

NPC Cadet Cassandra Quaid

"Yes Mother, I will be sure to stay safe." Aayla spoke as she played absently with a piece of ribbon.

"You know that I worry? I worry about your father as well when he is out there! There has been many problems lately in the Galaxy and it is you who is now out there with it." Her mother finished then smiled ?But I am proud of you Aayla.? Her mother finished with a smile and moved assigned for her father to come on screen.

"Aayla you look wonderful in that uniform, better than that uniform you were in at the academy!" her father said proudly before continuing "Tell me when does you ship arrive at the star base?"

Aayla leaned forward and smiled to her father, she had always wanted to join Starfleet and she was a little worried when she decided that she had wanted to be a counsellor and not a diplomat like her father was. She remembered the day she told him she wanted to be a counsellor, it had been long before joining Starfleet. Her father back then had simply smiled and given her his blessing, something that still to this day made her feel somewhat strange for she knew how he enjoyed his work and how much he had wished for her to work with him.

"My ship docked about an hour ago, a lady by the name of Cassandra Quaid will be coming to meet me and then take me on a tour of the ship, my rooms and my office." she smiled at that last part, finally she would have her own office. "I am so excited father, I've not had my own office before!" she looked the screen and laughed. "I was even sent my first patient file by the Commander Dallas" she laughed picking up the data pad.

"I cant say much about this person, I don't know her yet but I am looking forward to actually getting to know these people!" Aayla placed the pad down and looked back to her father, seconds later her doorbell chimed. "Father I love you, pass on my love to mother, I will speak to you in a few days time!" She closed the terminal off and spoke, "Come in!?"

She stood and straightened her uniform as the door to the sparsely furnished room opened. The woman standing at the door spoke first. "Aayla, my name is Cassandra Quaid, I am here to escort you to the Galaxy and see that you are settled in. Karyn Dallas will be in to see you later, it's been rather hectic as of late. But if you would follow me, we can go now and take you to your room." The woman spoke as she smiled watching Aayla.

Aalya smiled and picked up the small suitcase, inside the case lay the few small items that were precious to her heart. The kimono that her mother gave her when she blossomed into womanhood, a Japanese tea set that was wrapped delicately in rice paper. And a few sets of clothes that she would wear when off duty and roaming around the ship, she knew uniforms could be replicated easily once on board so she packed the things that mattered.

As the two women left the small room, Aayla took one last look at the small room to make sure nothing had been left. In her hand the small piece of ribbon she had been twisting around in her fingers hung loosely. She turned and left the room the door shutting behind her as her eyes looked over the woman she was following. Aayla wasn't sure what to ask the woman she was following, she knew from the rank pip on her collar that the woman was a forth year cadet. She was more than likely an assistant or an intern thou without asking she wasn't sure which. She looked out one of the large viewing windows, the same one she had passed for the past few days while waiting for the Galaxy to arrive.

This time instead of seeing one of the older fleet ships, the USS Galaxy sat berthed and floating in the weightless ness of the docking bay. The size of the ship was surprising, easily dwarfing the smaller Norway class that was closest to the window.

"She's a big ship isn?t she?" Cassandra spoke up, catching Aayla off guard.

"It's much larger than I thought it would be." Aayla admitted as she looked on in amazement, her eyes tracking the large ship as she passed by the view port window. The two women moved through the endless corridors of the star base and finally turned into an entrance ramp, she passed a small scanner and found herself confronted by two security guards. Aayla and Cassandra were allowed access onto the massive star ship after a few routine security checks, her eyes suddenly adjusting to the bright lights of the ships corridors.

"This way Ma'am." Cassandra spoke and motioned for Aayla to follow.

Aayla looked for a second and laughed, she had no idea where she was and realised that for the mean time she would have to carry around a map of the ship on a data pad. Cassandra looked up to her with a puzzled expression, the cadet obviously not knowing what Aayla was thinking. "Cassandra, the last time I was on a star ship was when I was 5 years old. I don?t even remember what it was like, now I am on one massive star ship and already I am lost!" She laughed some more thinking to herself that it must of sounded silly. But a few moment's later Cassandra spoke

"Ma'am I was the same as you when I first arrived, but trust me when I say that you will get used to where things are. It takes a little while, but you'll get there? Cassandra's face had a rather large smile on it as they entered the turbo lift. "Deck 5" she spoke to the computer.

Aayla felt the lift rise up her hands held onto the strapping of her small suitcase as she felt the lift come to a stop, the two women left the turbo lift and walked out into a nearly identical corridor. Aayla laughed to herself knowing that she would dare not try and go anywhere until she at least knew where her quarters were without second guessing herself.

They snaked through a series of small interconnecting corridors and reached a inconspicuous door, Cassandra smiled and stood to the side "Ma'am this is your room, I can wait out here if you wish?" Cassandra looked to Aayla as the door opened to expose the bare but large room.

Aayla looked to Cassandra and smiled "No that's okay, I think I need to get this room sorted out before I go anywhere else." she looked into the room and turned back to Cassandra "When should we do this tour?"

"When ever you are ready Ma'am, but I will return in say two hours and we shall go from there?", the cadet asked. And then with a nod from Aayla, she turned and left the Orion ensign to sorting out her room.

Aayla entered what was now her home and opened up her suitcase, she had a lot of work to do to make this comfortable.

"Descent"

Starring :

Rebecca von Ernst
Lt Shelby (NPC)
ENS Blather (NPC)

(Aboard the derelict Galaxy)

Crunch. . .'POP'!

Crunch. . .'POP'!

Crunch. . .'POP'!

Crunch. . .'POP'!

"Lieutenant Shelby, Are you going to step on every single light fixture in the entire ship, or are you just trying to drive me out of my mind?"

GULP--"S. .s. .sorry Commander von Ernst. . .its. . its just hard to walk on the ceiling without my foot 'popping' a lightbulb every few meters. . . . .I'm not used to looking at things this way."

"Then stand on your head or somthing. . .you're giving me a headache."

"Aye Ma'am."

Sighing to herself Rebecca turned her attention away from the sheepish looking officer and back to the hallway in front of her.

The interior of the wrecked USS GALAXY was dark beyond imagination. Buried as it was under tons of rocks and debris, and with all of its primary power cells drained years before, the eerie pale light from Rebecca's flashlight was the only real source of illumination.

~~~It is weird looking at things this way. . .~~~ she had to admit to herself. Apparently the Saucer section had crashed Upside down, and as a result everything was inverted.

The soft beige carpeting that had one graced the GALAXY's floors were now stretched across its 'ceiling' above her head, and the numerous glowing light fixtures now covered much of the 'floor' beneath her feet. (much to the consternation of Lt. Shelby whose boots kept exploding the long inert bulbs)

Directions were reversed too. Hallways that Rebecca could have navigated blindfolded beforehand were now a strange mirror image of their former selves requiring her to stop frequently and consult friendly signs that designated her location.

~~~Too bad I cant read upside down. . . ~~~ Rebecca grumped, as she twisted herself into knots trying to view an inverted placard. ~~~Deck 6. . .or Deck 9 maybe. . . I'm so turned around.~~~

"This. . .this is impossible ma'am." Lt. Shelby was saying, mostly to himself. "I. .I mean we just left the Galaxy this mornig on the shuttles. . . .I had breakfast down in Ten Forward just one deck up. . .err down from us. How can the ship be buried here on Quentin?"

Rebecca turned to glare at the nervous Lieutenant annoyingly. "Are you asking me a question Shelby, or are you just blathering to yourself?" she asked.

"Er. . . . nevermind Ma'am sorry."

Shaking her head, Rebecca turned to continue down the hall.

The bodies. . . . unfortunately. . . were everywhere.

Hundreds upon hundreds of 30 year old corpses littered the floor (ceiling) of the derelict. The method of their demise unfortunately hidden by the deterioration of their bodies.

Rebecca grimaced at the smell as she stepped over the shriveled corpse of someone wearing an Engineers uniform. Hopefully Dr. Fienberg would finish up his autopsy examinations soon, and give her an answer.

=/\= ENSIGN BLATHER TO COMMANDER VON ERNST=/\=

The buzzing of Rebecca's Comm badge in the dead silence of the passageway almost made her jump out of her skin.

"G . .g. .go ahead." she answered, mentally ordering her heart to slow down.

=/\=WE'VE FINISHED OUR CLIMB DOWN. . .ERRR. . . UP TO THE BRIDGE LEVEL MA'AM. . . .UNFORTUANTELY IT LOOKS LIKE THE SHIP WAS IN A STATE OF RED ALERT, SO THE SECURITY BULKHEADS ARE ALL IN PLACE AROUND THE BRIDGE ACCESS PORTS.. . . .IT'LL TAKE US A WEEK TO CUT OUR WAY IN.=/\=

Rebeca nodded grimly. One of the safety features aboard Starships was a set of metal barriers that sprung into action whenever the ship was on high alert. This prevented any invading force from gaining easy access to the bridge during a combat situation.

"Aknowledged Ensign," Rebecca answered, "Try to contact Lt. Commander Corgan to come enter his access code for you, otherwise I will be up there shortly with my own overrides. Suder's the only other officer with access but we still have not heard form him since that last big quake."

=/\=AYE MA'AM. . .ILL SEE IF COMMANDER CORGAN IS BUSY.=/\=

Silence once again reigned on the Galaxy wreckage, and for the briefest of moments Rebecca had the unerving feeling of claustrophobia. Her dancing flashlight in the black corridor seemed to dim eerily, but she shook it off as merely her imagination.

Crunch. . .'POP'!

"Oops. . . .sorry Ma'am.. . .my foot slipped."

Rebecca grit her teeth in friustration and set out once again. She wasnt sure what she was looking for, but somewhere aboard this 30 year old ghost there had to be some answers.

"Report"

By:
Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen,
Chief of Archology

Lt. (jg) Kay Elizabeth MacFarland,
Science Officer (APC)

Ensign Edward Ti,
Science Officer (NPC)

**Science Lab 1**

Kay and Edward have been at their post for the past 24 hours trying everything they can to track down the away team but everything they came up with failed.

"We better good tell Rose." the young Bajoran male spoke up while rubbing his dark blue eyes.

Then the young MacFarland yawns and the rolls her eyes alittle, "That wouldn't been an good idea but we do need to tell her, we just have to wait and see what the Captain can come up with...that going to piss her off royaly." With light steps the reported to their boss Rose Isis MacAllen with bad news.

*******************************************************

Rose who was falling asleep at her desk with PADDS all around her jumped up when she heared the door bell rung, "COME!" she yelled in an tired voice.

Both MacFarland and Ti walked into the Betazoids office with sad looks on their faces, "I'm sorry Commander we try everything to see if we can locate the away team, no success ma'am." MacFarland reported while looking at her boss.

~Gods she looks tired, her eyes are blood shot already.~

"Ok, we will wait for to see if the Captain or anybody else have some ideas. In the mean time go and get some rest and report back around 0600 hours alright?" Rose replied while looking though her PADDS and reports.

Both officers left as their worried about their boss, Kay when to Rose's apartment to watch the children.

"One Mad Prophet"

Lt. Commander Adrian An'quinsos
Acting Chief Counselor
USS Galaxy

The Commander had walked past him, taking no consideration into what he had said to her. In fact, it felt like a blatant slap in the face. The little sprite may have outranked him, but not out aged him. A dark frown had seeped on his face as he glared visibly at her form behind. 'Perhaps next time, she can have the temporal slip and I can give the orders!'

The Away Team moved forward, all except for one wide eyed Humanoid who stared silently at the massive wreckage before him. And now they had arrived to main source of the disturbance he had felt earlier. The Away Team moved forward, all except for one wide eyed Humanoid who stared silently at the massive wreckage before him. An almost tangible metallic taste lingered in his mouth as he felt the temporal echoes entering his mind. They reverberated from the hull like a blue shifted Quasar against a field of blackness.

If he were epileptic, the amount of spasms this would have created, would have kept him in the Medical Bay for Months on end.

The rest of the Away Team seemed to ignore him, which was just fine. They probably wanted the Counselor out of the way anyway. However, his concern for them was secondary to the ripples that passing through his body. He stepped closer, until, he was looming over a section of the hull in an ominous fashion. His intense, blue eyes were still wide and wild, while perspiration drifted down his face unnoticed.

He was within inches of it now, the ripples were far more tangible than before as they threatened to overwhelm his higher senses. It was a dizzying feat though he managed to keep his head on his shoulders without bringing up his own natural, mental defenses. Curiosity was eating at him, which seemed to garnish one action.

Unlike the others, who seemed to have been handling it as though it was nothing, Adrian lifted his hand towards it, as though limp, and slowly pressed it against the hull. A far away look took his visage and he closed his eyes in concentration.

The timeline surrounding this paradox unraveled itself briefly, but enough for the El-Aurian to get a general glimpse of what had occurred. Though a statue in appearance, several tears fell unabated from his eyes as continued to touch the hull. Then, abruptly, he withdrew his hand, as though it had been scalded and looked over at the Away Team, his lower jaw shaking.

"Death." He pronounced darkly, wiping the leftover tears from his eyes. "Undercurrents, ripples coming to the surface spilling through the air in temporal flux." He looked at all of them, trying to gauge a reaction, and then continued to speak. "I sense death, emanating from it, an oncoming storm that wasn't prepared for."

His head slowly ascended upward and his voice fell into a foreboding whisper.

"And we may be too late."

“Tempus Fugit Part One.”

Ramir Omar had left from the medical bay just several hours ago. He was apprised of the current situation and it disturbingly reminded him of another situation that was very similar to their predicament. It is true that time does fly.

2368. Beta-Delta Quadrant Border.

“We’re receiving a call of distress.” Centurion/The Acting Captain Ramir Omar looked at his helm officer. He had been the commander of the Revenge since the recent death of the captain and the first officer.

“Where from?”

“Several parsecs away from one of our pre-warp conquests. It appears that several earthquakes have occurred and they’re asking for assistance with various medical supplies. Might I set a course for it sir?”

“Yes At Warp Eight-”

“Sir there is a friendly warbird that is decloaking directly off of the port bow!” The young tactical officer shouted at him.

Omar frowned. There should not be other warbirds around of this area of Romulan territory. “You are to activate hailing frequencies.”

Five seconds later then an old man wearing the military uniform of a captain appeared. “You are to immediately return to Romulus.”

“We’re just responding to a call of distress though,” Omar said to the captain.

“Centurion you must accompany me to Romulus immediately,” The man then repeated to the centurion.

“We must respond to a call of distress though.” Omar ignored the fact that the captain had not utilised his honorary rank of captain.

“No. I Am Captain Toba. You shall comply with my orders. We’ve detected a subspace conduit inside of that system and it has a Borg signature.”

Omar suddenly understood but that did not alter his responsibility to the people of that damaged planet. “I do understand that there is a risk to us but-”

“You obviously do not understand that there is a risk to us,” Toba hissed at him. “If any of our warp signatures are detected inside of that region then the Borg Collective shall come out of the conduit. It is very fortunate that those distressed people are a pre-warp civilisation or the Borg would certainly destroy them.”

“Yes but-”

“No Centurion. You are to return to the home-planet or you shall be destroyed.” He then ended with the transmission.

An uneasy silence permeated the bridge for one minute. The helm officer finally said to the centurion. “I’m returning to the home-planet sir.”

“No.” The whole of the bridge crew looked at him with astonishment. “Sir?” The helm officer asked of him.

“We’re going to respond to that call of distress.”

None of them did anything.

“It is my understanding that insubordination is a greater offence than the disobeying of an order.” He looked at all of them calmly.

“Aye Captain.” The helm officer finally decided to say to him and then the rest of the bridge crew just nodded to him with agreement.

“Red Alert! Hands To Battle Stations! Red Alert!” He smiled to himself.

“Galaxy Attacks!?!”

By Various ‘Dallas’ Written NPC’s

Location: USS Galaxy

**************

Security Department, deep inside the ship.

**************

Klaxons rang like church bells on Sunday, singing out the battle hymns.

Gopherlike in their reaction, the security staff popped up their heads and looked around. It was reaction more than anything else, much less useful, to look up at the red, flashing warning lights to see what was going wrong. But look they did, and the red angry glare screamed at the men and women of Starfleet Security to move out. That following split second, the men and women dashed out of coffee tables, seats, desks, and sprung from whatever tasks they were doing and RAN!

All that was left in security was steaming mugs of coffee (some spilt in their haste), discarded PADDs, half eaten doughnuts, and the screams and flashes of the warning sirens.

Next door, the armory was the new happening place to be. As the chief armory officer stood by the seemingly endless rack of phaser rifles and combat packs, security personnel lined up by the dozens. Each officer was served with a snap and a click, the armory officer thrusting compression rifles into the other officer’s arms. The newly armed officer would then move on down the line, as another armory officer slapped a sidearm to their hip and a security tricorder to their belt. The officers then moved down the line, separating into different squads, as squad leaders prepped them for action.

O’Rourke was now the epicentre of the armory’s activities. Now the interim leader (until someone else showed up), she directed traffic while trying in vain to instruct her group.

“Hey T’lan! You got Squad Gamma ready?” She screamed out.

The Vulcan mistress, rifle in hands and the same flat face she wore everyday answered, “Yes, sir. Squad Gamma is ready for operations.”

O’Rourke redirected to Marsh, “Hey Marsh! How’s Squad Omega?”

Marsh tied a strip of white cloth on his head, and said, “They’re ready to kick ass, sir.”

“E’xch! Tell me you have Squad Epsilon ready to go to deck 8!”

E’xch shrugged his shoulders. “They’re still getting armed, sir!”

O’Rourke helplessly threw her hands up over her head and sighed. ~”Oh dear god! A red alert, and we aren’t ready? Corgan wouldn’t have allowed that!”~ She looked over the security department. Though their readiness times were some of the best in the fleet, it never seemed fast enough when the ship was in imminent danger, or when one was in charge themselves. “Come on! Move it! Move it! Ship’s not gonna defend itself!” She screamed as she slapped people on the shoulder each time a rifle was handed to them.

“Sir?” T’lan yelled for attention, “Sir! What’s going on? All we have are friendly targets in proximity of this ship! What are we doing at red alert?!”

This caused Lieutenant O’Rourke to pause herself for the moment, and reflect on that thought. Good question! What were they doing, arming up while there was nothing but a weak warp shuttle and a small fleet of friendly vessels waiting for them?

”T’lan… I don’t know. It’s strange.” O’Rourke confessed.

T’lan carefully explained through the din of activity, “Think about the circumstances logically, sir. We may or may not have inadvertently destroyed an entire planet. All that is left of the Quentite race is a warp ship. We have not one ship attending to the situation, but a small fleet waiting for us in a surrounding ambush attack pattern. And from what I can guess of the position of the Quentite ship, we are in a protective stance. Sir… it looks like...”

The lightbulb of reason illuminated O’Rourke. She gasped in rapt horror, “They’re going to attack us…”

“Yes sir. That is the logical conclusion.” T’lan spoke, not changing in tone or flatness, “Therefore, we will have to come to a… difficult decision.”

”We… we… we’re going to… we are?” O’Rourke stuttered. Her head conjured up images of death, tooth and nail fighting, and the destruction. Her head couldn’t evacuate the sights of battle, and it disturbed her. “Other Starfleet officers?”

“Correct.” She replied, “Whatever we have to do… better make it clear.”

O’Rourke froze in indecision. She never had to deal with such responsibility before, and it was much different than command training on holodecks and in classrooms (she avoided both). She didn’t trust herself with the big calls, didn’t want anything to do with the important decisions. She was a lawyer. Not a leader. What was she doing here? How could she do it?

What would James do? Commander Corgan could always make the difficult decisions, and damn the consequences later. But then again, hearing about his reputation as a rather tortured soul, she could see her commander as having a bit of a martyr complex.

~”James isn’t here!”~ She reasoned with her head, ~”He isn’t going to be here on time! He’s on that planet and he left me in charge for the time being… or until someone higher ranking than me comes along to take over. The ship’s at red alert, and T’lan’s really trying to ask me whether or not we should shoot on other Starfleet officers in the unlikely event that they came to take us all to the penal colonies for destroying that rinky-dink planet! Oh god… they do horrible things to lawyers in penal colonies… what am I saying? This is beyond me. I can’t do this!”~

”Sir?” T’lan urged.

”What?!” O’Rourke snapped, “You want me to say yes, we should kill other Starfleet officers?!?”

”But sir, it might be the…”

”OH COME OFF IT!” O’Rourke growled, “The Quintite ship has nukes! They can’t harm us! We would be at yellow alert if it were just them! Face it; we are all going to be charged with crimes of humanity for wiping a whole planet clean! The fleet out there…” He hand sweeped in the general direction of the other Fed ships, “Are here to bust the captain’s ass for killing billions of people, whether he did it or not! And if we are at red alert, it means Captain M’Kantu is going to pounce first… or the other ships will! Either way, we’re going to be fighting other Federation citizens!”

T’lan didn’t flinch from O’Rourke’s verbal assault, “I see your point.”

“And now you want to leave me to give the order to fight other Starfleet officers? Fine!” O’Rourke threw up her hands, frustrated, “Everyone! We might be boarded! It’s our duty to protect this ship, and by law protecting the citizens of this ship supersedes laws preventing an engagement between two Starfleet forces. In otherwords, we fire on those officers whom board… we commit treason! However… they move against the civilians and harm any personnel on this ship… we have the right to stop them!”

Everyone hung onto O’Rourke’s words. “Your orders are to not fire unless fired upon. Use stun only. I don’t want to kill fellow officers. Block access to key systems unless ordered by Captain M’Kantu. Make it clear that any boarding officers will not be allowed to go within an inch of restricted area, including the Captain. If they stop us from keeping them away from sensitive areas…. All bets are off. NOW MOVE MAGGOTS!!!!!!!!!!!”

*************

The computer core was bathed in red light.

Engineers scrambled like ants over their beloved colony, protecting the computer, their queen, from the fright of the red alert.

Somebody was going to squash their colony flat, and they knew it.

Lieutenant Eleanor Pharrel, computer core specialist, graduating class of ’75, daughter of a civilian computer programmer and a homemaker, didn’t like what she was seeing.

Neither did the computer geeks she had to work with. Of all the personnel, the trio of Specialists Reinhardt, Smith, and Andreas knew better than anyone (with the exception of a few tactical officers) what kind of trouble they were in. All three geeks, on the Galaxy since its refit, knew the ships system as well as almost everyone (to such a knowledge that it put Lt. Pharrel’s head in a tailspin) what this ship was capable of.

A whole lot of whup-ass, as Specialist Smith eloquently stated a week ago.

Then again, they were more than capable of understanding the threat outside the ship. All three NCO’s were also starship geeks. What started as a hobby to better expand their knowledge of Starfleet ships to make the ultimate strategy starship battle game gave them knowledge that sometimes they wish they didn’t know.

“Elli! They’re in a Reverse Yamaguchi patter!” Specialist Andreas waved her over, “We’re getting the live feed from the Tactical Department!”

”Jesus Christ!” Smith cursed, “All three of ‘em?”

“All three. Check it!” Andreas tapped the screen. “Now the Hood’s weak. An old Excelsior, latest Mark with some upgrades. Could sting us, but would have to get a lucky shot in order to stand a chance. But the other two are different.”

Elli was disturbed by their banter. “Don’t you guys have work to do?”

”What are we going to do? The core’s working fine. And I’m… monitoring the situation so that we won’t be caught off guard.” Specialist Smith shot back.

“Check it, Elli!” Specialist Reinhardt explained, “The Hood is nothing. We could frag her to spacedust if we wanted.”

”HEY! That’s a Fed ship we’re talking about!” Elli yelled out. “And you’re talking about blowing up a friendly and killing fellow servicemen?”

“Hell yeah!” Specialist Reinhardt retorted, “They’re in a reverse Yamaguchi. They don’t use that to subdue starships. They use it to frag capital ships. We might be more tricky with phaser strips and superior firing angles, but it worked wonders on the Dominion for outflanking their battleships. Now it’s on us.”

“We’re not worried about the Hood.” Specialist Andreas said, “It’s the other two that scare me.”

Elli let the geeks rapid fire their analysis. “The Pershing’s well built. A good blend of old school design meets high end tech. It’ll be reliable in a fight. A little stinger. Alone, it wouldn’t stand a chance against us, but she’ll bloody us good with support on its side.”

“And then there’s the Nimitz.” Smith pointed out, “She’s an equal match to us. Shields are about the same, though we could probably get more. Her weapons aren’t as heavy as out phaser cannon, but with quantum torps and multi-phas’s, that gun gap isn’t that great. And worse yet… Nimitz is a Sovereign. You know what that means?”

Elli’s voice chilled. “No?”

”She’s a lot more nimble than us. We’re a barbarian with a clumsy mace. She’s a fencer with a foil. We can’t move. She can. Who do you think is going to outsmart and kill who?”

The cold realization dawn on the Female officer. A few days ago, she was facing death until she was ‘saved’ by Lieutenant Commander Corgan.

Now she was facing it again, with their own people as the aggressor.

It seemed that death wasn’t going to escape her after all.

"Master of the Ship"

Starring Rebecca von Ernst

Robert Blather (NPC)

(BRIDGE: sort of)

"Aten-hut! Captain von Ernst on the Bridge!"

The call to attention echoed off the dusty, fire-scorched walls of the USS GALAXY, and the lethargic shuffling of boots as all present popped to, gave credance to how exhausted everyone was.

"At ease," Rebecca von Ernst said softly from the badly damamged turbolift doors. The melted slag of what were once solid duranium bands were evidence of how the intrepid away team had to cut their way in to access the bridge.

"This isnt a formal inspection, and this is hardly an active dutyship anymore so forget about formalities." she added. The weight of what was going on around everybody was begining to drain her mentally as well.

~~~Captain. . . ? ~~~ she rolled the word around in her head. Technically it was correct now, but it sure sounded darn weird.

As second in Command of the Galaxy, Rebecca was naturally the first in line of succession to assume command in case of disaster. That had obviously occured, and as far as the AWay Team was concerned, Von Ernst was now in command of the USS Galaxy. . . such as it was.

Then came the fact that naval tradition demanded that the master of any vessel (regardless of rank) must be addressed as 'Captain'. A lowly second Lieutenant in charge of a Space tug was a 'Captain,' and now, it seemed, Rebecca was as well.

~~~Admiral Hoth would be so tickled.~~~ she thought with a wry sense of humor. ~~~Captain of the USS GARBAGE-HEAP~~~

As the assembled workers turned back to their tasks, Rebecca gave the bridge a long slow once over, feeling as though she had never been here before.

(Though in actuality she had only left the ship that morning)

With power out, the Galaxy bridge was half lit by an eerie spiderweb of flashlight lanterns whose beams crisscrossed the dusty room in a labyrith of murky light.

Most immeadiately apparent was the fact that the Bridge was UPSIDE DOWN. The graceful Tactical Arch, and streamlined Ops and Helm positions now decorated the 'ceiling' above them such as it was, and the single circular skylight that once looked out onto the stars, now lay in the center of the 'floor', shattered and clotted with mud and dirt.

Idly Rebecca toed arandom clod of dirt, and watched as it rolled away into the darkness.

Unfortuantely, not everything that once sat on the floor had remained there. Somehow the Massive Captain's Chair had become dislodged in whatever disaster befell the Galaxy, and it now sat crookedly on the 'ceiling' at Rebecca's feet.

Then there was also the matter of the thirteen long - decomposed corpses that the Away Tema had found strewn about the bridge. It was hard to tell, but many seemed burned, and/or crushed in a manner to suggest some violence done to them beyond the crash of the Saucer section.

Rebecca sighed.

Thankfully, the Away team had gathered up the scattered bodies, and lined them up neatly near the aft bulkhead, and covered them with a shimmering silver tarp.

"S. .s.. status report Ensign." she asked, a slight crack creeping into her voice.

Ensigg Robert Blather turned from his project, and considered the Commander with weary eyes.

"It. . .its slow going Ma'am." he admitted, "We're trying to patch a portable power unit into the Main ODN network,but we're running into some technical difficulties. "

He paused to sneeze, the dry dusty air was giving his sinus's fits.

"Pardon me Ma'am, but the problem is that all the computer hookups. . . . .well. . . .they are all waaaaay up there."

Blather indicated the ceiling above them that was easily two meters out of reach.

He shrugged,

"Its just that these ships were not to be designed to be worked on from upside down."

Rebecca considered all the control surfaces dangling over her head and frowned. Sillyhow the littlest things could be so infuriatingly difficult.

"Right. . . . .": she said. "Well try and see if you can scrounge up an antigravity scaffold, or even an old ladder. We need to access the Computer core. . . if possible. . . as a matter of priority."

Blather nodded and wiped a sheen of sweat from his face. "Aye Ma'am. . .well figure it out in a bit, but if you dont mind me asking what are we looking for?"

Normally Rebecca the Ice-Queen would have frozen Blather in his spot for such an impudent question. However, truth be told, she was feeling less and less 'Ice-Queen-ish' for the past few hours. She suspected the exhaustion had somthing to do with it.

"Two things Ensign." she sighed and eased herself down onto a small pile of rubble with a tired groan. "First to access the ship's logs and figure out what the noodles happened here."

"And second?"

Rebecca frowned, ". . . .and secondly to possibly trigger the Saucer section Self Destruct Mechanism."

~~~SELF DESTRUCT?~~~ Blather gaped in obvious confusion. ~~~The dang thing is already wrecked beyond recovery and buried under 100 feet of rock. . . . . . what more does she want?~~~~

Rebecca seemed to read his thoughts. "If the ship cannot be salvaged Ensign. . . " she explained, " The computer cores still hold gigabytes upon gigabytes of valuable Federation Proprietary information. . . . .Any detailed examination of the wreckage by an outside power. . or pirated for that matter would be a serious breach of security."

After a moment the Ensign nodded. It seemed rash, but he could not argue the point. "Aye Ma'am. . .I suppose you're right. Now if you'll excuse me. . .I'll see about that ladder."

Rebecca watched him go and stood again with a yawn.

Giving the little row of bodies one last nervous look, she strode back towards the turboshaft- ladder that she had climbed up (down) on.

It would be some time before they really needed her on the bridge. . . . . .and there were a few other places on this ship she wanted to explore.

“Dust and Bones”

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

Location: ‘The Galaxy’?

”Dust and bones.” James mumbled, the dirt crunching in his feet, “Dust and bones… dust and bones… nothing but dust and bones.”

An upside down world, a mirror into the last world he thought he was in a mere hour before. Literally, in an upside down world. One was clean and uprighted by artificial gravity, the other was upside down and dirty from what seemed like years of neglect.

Just a whole lot of dust and bones.

James was walking down the corridor of deck 6, the same corridor where a few days ago, he took his goddaughter to see the whale tanks. The time she told him about her favourite things with such delight. The same deck a day earlier where he saw a helpless engineer pinned under a bulkhead, whom he had to cut the unfortunate officer out before she could perish. The same deck, where a few days earlier, he saw the living going about their duty, not suspecting the destruction of a planet and the ensuing space/time madness that followed.

There was nothing but dust and bones. Panels were blackened out, popped open and charred. The carpet was overhead, a faded red with furry dust in its weaves. Scorches pock marked the beige walls, as crisscrossing lines or straight on dots of dead aim fire.

James saw his fair share of death. The Dominion War was a prime example. He saw starship boardings, and trench warfare on insignificant planets. He slew others for the Federation. Jem’Hadar, Borg, Cardassians. He was once considered one of the best marksmen on the front. Yes, James knew full well about death.

What made his current predicament unique was not only the sheer amount of shrivelled, dried, dust covered, uniformed corpses, but of their age. Everything was old on this ship, and from his guess there was at least a half to a quarter dozen decades of dust covering the ship.

The dead were in heaps. He saw a group of a dozen corpses. Phaser rifles were either scattered, or still clutched in the victim’s hands. James experimentally tried one of the abandoned mark 3 rifles, checking it over with a careful eye. He tried activating the old weapon. Not even a chirp. The batteries were dead.

~”All mark 3’s.”~ He looked down at the dead security team, ~”Must be new guys. They give the older weapons to the newbies. Don’t have any clips for the Mark 3’s… but I can jury rig something.”~

James opened up the rifle and slid out the clip. With much effort, the energy clip popped out. Rusted, eaten away by acid, the rifle was too aged, the battery and elements too corroded for the rifle to work ever again.

“So much for that idea.”

He tossed the junky rifle away. There wasn’t a chance in hell he could access its firing log. And there were no Compression Rifles in good enough condition to access their mission recorders.

The dust and bones were going to have to stay as an enigma, like everything else. Such as the phaser fire outside. It was all red. All red beams. Experience told him that they were Federation, and nothing but Federation phaser fire above the planet. Too much experience to discount otherwise, for he knew the difference between friendly and ‘not-so-friendly’ and even the rare ‘extremely-pissed-off’ fire. Then there was the change in scenery. A desert, but not much else. As would be expected from an apocalypse blasted landscape, but old with the stench of still air and artificially flattened mountains. The spear, a primitive device, was found in the badlands. The ocean was settled, nary a hiccup in sight.

Everything pointed to one theme. Old. Dead. Resting. It was all so jammed far into the past James doubted they were in the present. Though he saw the phaser fire in the sky, it would go contradictory to being flung into the past. He suspected, as much as anyone on the surface, that the Galaxy fought for her life in the sky. M’Kantu might not have stood down, and for good reason, to stand by his claim of innocence for blasting an unsuspecting planet. Whomever was up there might have tried to bring the Galaxy in, and for good reason, because their duty demanded the guilty be brought in for justice.

Was it the Galaxy up there, among all those lights? He was in the future, or so it looked. The Galaxy was right here, dead and buried. Were the lights some other ships? An alien shooting gallery? A Fed shooting gallery? Both? Civil War? Unknown threat?

The answer was right in front of him, as hard as it was to accept.

“We got f**ked.” James admitted, “They came in to reign us in… and did it hard. But how could I see it up there, and be here? F**k, I wish I didn’t skip those temporal physics classes.”

He heard the distant clopping of boots on the other end of the hall. It was Ensign Blather, unmistakably. He was always in a rush, always out to impress, though a bit of a dolt when doing so. Blather came in, slid to stop his momentum, and puffed for desperate breath.

“Sir!” Blather saluted. James half heartedly saluted back, “We need your help at the bridge. We need to see if your code will work on the blast doors.”

James raised his eyebrow. The doors were sealed on the bridge. Now that settled it. The doors didn’t usually seal if it was a plain crash and burn. The doors sealed when the ship was in combat, to prevent boarders from coming in (though transport technology usually went around these measures).

“Have you restored power to that section?” James asked.

Blather gave his best ‘uhhh… I don’t know’ look, and predicatably said, “Not yet, sir. We gotta get some power cells. If that fails, we gotta break out the plasma torches and cut our way through.”

“Well then… ensign. You seem to know what to do. Don’t be afraid to show some initiative. Get the gear from the Opaka. We’re going to the bridge.”

”Aye, sir!”

***************

Half hour later, at the bridge entrance.

The turbolift shaft leading to the bridge was clogged by debris. The slow climb down, with plasma torch kits and power cells, was not easy to navigate. Punching through the turbolift pod to get to the bridge entrance was almost as tricky. But the trek was over. James, Ensign Blather and Ensign Bonner were at the promised land, waiting to force open the gates.

“Let’s hook ‘em up.” James ordered.

The ensigns snapped open a plastic case containing the power cell kit. They linked a sparkling cable from the kit, then pried open a panel to an access port of the ODN relays. The battery and the panel were linked together, and the Ensigns fiddled with the age decayed equipment.

“Try it now, sir.” Blather gave the go ahead. Lights shone in the turbolift, in a haunted flicker. The panel sparked and crackled, but stabilized like a dangerous bug zapper.

James cracked his knuckled, then said, “Ok… here goes. Computer. Open emergency blast doors. Authorization, Corgan Echo Zulu Foxtrot five five four…”

The panel heaved, the access code clogging its age addled brain, causing the electronic components to haemorrhage on the new stimulus of fresh power and processor commands.

It let out a dying groan like a doomed bird, and then blew completely out.

“Awww… I mean… oh man…” Ensign Blather’s head bobbed around, looking for the problem.

Acrid smoke drifted in Corgan’s nose. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll do it the hard way.”

**************

Yet even more time later…

In an age-old tome, if they’re ever was an observer alive on the inside, there was nothing but darkness. The crypt had no light. Didn’t have light for an estimated six decades. Couldn’t see the wall even if they ran into it. A duranium shell, buried under dirt and rock wind swept for years, pounded by cataclysms untold. If there were someone inside, it would be an isolation of pure madness.

Imagine how surprised the person or ghost would be to see, for the first time in ages, a glaring white light shining straight in their eyes. The light would astonish anyone in isolation. In rapt amazement, the ghost could watch as the torch had to torturously make an ‘arch’ around the door. The slow burn, followed by a sudden disappearance of the light.

And then, a huge crash as a slab of the old door gave way!

Corgan cautiously shined his light into the doorway, sweeping the area in light. He stepped in first, into the dark unknown, and then waved the other two officers to come in.

His light scanned the remains of the bridge. What should have been up was now down. Consoles were over his head, out of reach even at his best jump, and scarred beyond recognition. The viewscreen was busted open, spilling burned electronic entrails. Walls were black and burnt out. The captain’s chair was ploughed straight into the overhead dome, which he was now circling.

There were bodies, shrivelled like Peruvian mummies, twisted in death throes. He could identify a few of them. The body over the helm console looked like Savoire, the one over the science station Lieutenant Egi. There was a few he couldn’t guess, but one he thought might have been Lysander, and the grimness of the reality didn’t leave him the luxury to laugh at irony.

He saw a body near the captain’s chair. Four pips were on the mummified corpse’ uniform. He knelt over the corpse, as if in prayer, and squinted to see the pips. He brushed the dust off his glasses and shook his head.

“Rest in peace, Captain M’Kantu…” The Chief of Security mourned.

"Heart of Darkness"

A Jp Starring

Lt Commander James L. Corgan

Commander Rebecca von Ernst

Imagine if you will , a world without light.

Imagine a darkness blacker than the blackest night sky.

A darkness like unto the deepest cave at the roots of the highest mountains. . . . . a world untouched by the sun . . . . . .a world tha never knew the gentle brush of an autumn breeze, nor the intoxicating warmth of a sunny day.

Rebecca von Ernst sat alone in the Dark.

Here in the deepest recesses of the remains of the USS GALAXY. . . .here surrounded by a solid shell of imprevious duranium which was in turn buried by tons upon tons of wind-swept rocks above. . . .here in a land that had not known the touch of light since the last power cell burned out 30 years ago. . . . . .. . . .here Rebecca found what she was looking for.

Nothing.

With literally miles of gloom-filled corridors between her and the surface, and with the rest of the away team off exploring other parts of the ship. . . .here she found peace in her solitude.

The flash-light that she had used to find her way down (up) to this level lay beside her switched off.

Now that she was here she did not the world of light intruding on her lonliness.

The darkness was strangely comforting. Like a warm blanket of blackness that wraped its dark arms about her slender form in a motherly embrace.

Rebecca was sitting on an old dusty couch in what used to be the Deck 14 Cetacean Navigation Lab. It was here the Starship kept its mammoth Whale Tanks filled with tons of water, and two of the most unique mammals she had ever seen.

In her first days aboard the Galaxy years ago, a young Ensign von Ernst had gotten lost, and had found the tanks quite by accident. She soon felll in love with the isolated viewing lounge that had one wall entirely composed of afloor-to-ceiling plate glass window looking out onto the huge whale tanks.

The low lighting and soft gurgling of the water filters, along with the haunting songs the Whales sometimes sung had made for a favorite retreat for the skittish young Ensign. That and the fact that nobody else from the crew botherd her down there also helped.

Now. . . .years later on the upside down derelict, Deck 14 was actually UP from where she and the rest of the Away Team had gained access to the wreckage. Fortuantely the Jeffry tube ladders worked both ways.

The lounge was much the same. . . . The soft blue carpeting was now on the 'ceiling' above her, and the plush lounge sofa that she had enjoyed so often was smashed in its fall to the 'floor' below, but with a grunt of effort REbecca had been able to right it, and had since sat there enjoyng the silence.

~~~Why cant people leave me alone~~~ she thought for the milionth time in her life, ~~~Is that so hard?~~~

The answer came quickly as the soft -CRUNCH- of a footstep at the door drew her attention.

"Crap!" A soft voice hissed.

She sighed, "Come in James, and pull up a piece of couch." she said without turning.

James looked at his companion, and then dejectedly at the spiderwebbed screen of the PADD he stepped on. ~"Now that was sloppy."~ He bemoaned himself. He kicked the offending PADD aside and helped himself to a couch cushion from the other end of the room.

Plopping it on the floor, she sat on the couch cross legged, his pistol safely at his hip, the wristlight at the side of the cusion, and his rifle resting on his knees. The way he sat was like a dark meditation.

"How did you know I was coming before I gave myself away?" He asked.

Rebecca twisted slightly in the halflight of Corgan's flashlight, its dusty beam casting strange shadows across her pale features.

"Because you are the only person who knows me well enough to find me down here." she said simply.

"Figures." The dark mooded security officer grumbled, "Every time I see you here, you've been upset. I thought you might come back here to... sort things out."

He gestured towards the whale tank, "I thought I could find a place I could hide out as well. You beat me to it. Guess i'm not the only one disturbed by this. You know what's really bothering me right now?"

Rebecca shrugged. normally she's pull a gruff answer out of thin air or somthing, but James knew here well enough to know she hadnt a clue what was going on most of the time. "No," she admitted. "It's those phasers in the sky." Corgan mourned, looking up at the plush ceiling as if it was the starry sky outside, "It reminds me of the war. Did you ever see what it was like at the warzones?"

A far off look crossed Rebecca's brown eyes as she consulted her memories of that time. . . .the Time of The Dominion Wars. "No. . .not the way you did. Right after graduation I was hustled off to Starbase 108, about as far from the fighting as you could get." she sighed, I spent my times being in charge of opening and closing the giant Starbase doors for every ship that happened by.. . . . . .That was the war for me."

"It was like what I saw outside... but different." He explained, "While you were operating starbase doors, I was doing combat duty on the USS Thunderchild. Mostly it was shipboardings and relief efforts for the boys on the ground, but for a few months, I was stuck on Oddissar V in the Cardassian DMZ."

The smells returned to him. Damp earth mixed with cold death. Screams and wails. The whine of energy weapons and the whistle of artillery came back. "Ugly muck everywhere. Local rats were a problem. We couldn't