“The Other Shoe Drops”

(With excerpts from ‘Illumination’ and use of Brex and Circidon)

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
SO/Ops Manager
USS Miranda

==Bridge==

The environmental systems were finally starting to vent the smoky haze from the bridge. During the brief conflict, several consoles and panels had gotten ‘cooked’. Even the main operations console had suffered burning Jaal’s left and badly.

A medical team was already on the scene. Jaal’s hand was quickly disinfected and bandaged up for the time being. He’d have to report to sickbay later for further treatment. Meanwhile, teams of engineers were working feverishly to patch things up in case the attackers came back. It was an event that was fully expected at this point.

“Sir,” Circidon announced from behind the tactical arch, “We’re intercepting a transmission from the Breen Home world to the Galaxy.”

Brex and Jaal looked at each other curiously. ‘Here it comes,’ Jaal thought.

“On speakers,” Brex ordered.

[Federation starships, you are hereby ordered to stand down. The battle is over.]

[This is Captain M'Kantu of the Federation starship Galaxy. The hostiles have retreated, but they are most likely to return. The battle is far from over.]

[Captain M'Kantu, I am Thot Gor. Governor Born is no longer representing the Breen Confederacy. He placed too much belief in your treaty and abilities to protect us and has paid the price. You though, have failed in your promises. Therefore, we are dissolving the treaty as it stands and placing your diplomatic envoys under arrest as per your failure to maintain your... how do you humans put it? ... end of the bargain.]

[Your revolutionary situation is not our concern, Thot Gor. We were invited under the pretense of a formal request by your government-]

[Which you will continue to follow through on unlike the false promises of the past. We are only taking measures to assure our species survival in that you do not break this promise as well. Your crew shall be returned, once you have completed the task we require of you. If you do not comply, we shall terminate one of your crew ever hour until you do.]

[You cannot do that! Not all your government would concede to this barbaric act.]

[I suppose you would be correct on that observation, Captain. If any were still alive.]

All eyes on the Miranda’s bridge became glued to the view screen. Jaal had managed to reroute it’s visual protocols around some damaged data lines and a picture of the space ahead of the ship flickered into being.

Ahead, the Gravnor, having received its predetermined signal from the surface, instantly powered up. The two Breen cruisers that had accompanied the ships to Breen finally illuminated themselves as they came out of cloak. They fired on the Gravnor, instantly disintegrating it. Its debris rained down on the Galaxy's shields, lighting it up in a plethora of color.

“Those Bastards!” Jaal said aloud. He gritted his teeth. ‘I knew they couldn’t be trusted,’ he thought.

Brex looked anxious, and quickly asked, “Our away teams Jaal?”

Jaal quickly regained his composure as his fingers flew across the sensor console for any signs of survivors from the destroyed vessel. After one tense minute he informed, “The Galaxy has ‘em Sir. Thank Gods for M’Kantu’s quick thinking.”

“Indeed,” came the reply from the center seat. A collective sigh of relief could be felt across the bridge.

The conversation between the USS Galaxy and the apparent new Breen leader continued.

[That is for attempting to delay the inevitable, Captain.]

[Did you get them, Sub-Commander?]

[I cannot confirm or deny it, Captain. The impact debris disrupted my console while they were in transit.]

[You would kill your own people for a revolution? It's more like a coup from this perspective.]

“You can say that again,” Jaal commented wryly. Several others nodded in agreement.

[I will do what is necessary for my people to survive. Now, not a moment to waste. To prove my point, I shall terminate one of the hostages.]

[No, wait!]

But Gor didn't wait. The very identifiable whine of a disruptor blast echoed over the subspace wave, the shriek that followed barely lasting a moment. It sounded very humanoid, indeed.

Everyone on the Miranda’s bridge bowed their heads a moment. This was getting worse by the second. How much worse would it get? Right now, Jaal wanted to beam down and choke Thot Gor with his bare hands. The Trill’s stomach instantly felt nauseated as the shriek died away. He cursed under his breath through clenched teeth in his native language. His knuckles turned white from gripping the armrests on his chair too hard.

[What is it you want us to do, Thot?]

[Quite simple, Captain. You and the Miranda are to locate the T`Kith`Kin and Hydran encampments and destroy them. You showed a sample of strength against the insectoids. More firepower than we've been able to muster under the oppression of your treaty.]

[How do we know you'll return our crew? You've already proven ruthless and untrustworthy.]

[Why, you don't know, Captain. Now, you have 10 of your Terran minutes to break orbit and begin your search. If you have not left by then, we shall execute another of your crew. Then another, and another. Now, honor your part of the treaty.]

[You mean the one you dissolved?]

[Does it matter now, Captain? Really? You have 8 minutes. Oh, before you depart... I would suggest you do not try to leave the system. We've activated the system perimeter defenses with fusion mines. Any attempt to leave will result in rather serious - if not fatal - damage to your ships. We'll know, and then terminate the rest of your landing party.]

“I expect we’ll be getting a call any second now,” Circidon said with her usual sarcasm firmly in place.

Just then, the commpanel on Jaal’ console beeped for attention. He spun in his chair favoring his injured hand, “It’s for you Commander,” he said with barely hidden anger showing itself once again.

"The Senators."

Colonel Omar surveyed the senate with disdain.

Since the recent barbaric Reman uprising, Omar's influence had increased significantly - both through the Tal Shiar and the senate. However, while his influence and power had increased, his relationship with his son had deteriorated.

They had both been side-by-side, once. The Tal Shiar colonel exerted his influence on the military, while his son exerted his influence on the senate.

Things were very different these days. The colonel had even gone as far as using his own son as a pawn for his politics.

He looked - with distaste - at one specific senator.

The senator who had fathered the traitorous Savar.

It was highly irritating that the sub-commander was still alive - even if he was in exile. However, his father wasn't. Colonel Omar had dealt with all of the senators who had sympathised with sub-commander Savar - except his own father.

Through the actions of his traitorous son, the senator's power had dwindled significantly, but it was still not enough.

Even worse, he and his son clearly shared a dislike for the Omar house.

The colonel then wondered what other feelings they shared: treachery perhaps?

The senate meeting ended, abruptly interrupting his thoughts. He usually wouldn't be worrying, he considered - as he stepped out of the senate building and into the bright sunlight - if it wasn't for that dangerous mission he had sent a certain Tal Shiar spy on. He had heard nothing from Tekri for a whole week, and he hoped she hadn't been detained and compromised by ever-irritating Starfleet.

He smoothed his military uniform as his bodyguard opened the ground car door.

He was going to have to contact his son.

The pawn.

Eshe, Dhanishta
Lieutenant Jg
Engineer Galaxy

BACK POST

“The Zhian’tara.”

The Zhian'tara, this was her masterful plan to rid herself of the troublesome, emotional, violent Naut.

It was a ceremony performed for a joined trill by a Guardian of the symbiont pools (a non joined trill). The purpose of the Zhian’tara was to extract each previous host from the symbiont and temporally install them into a volunteer, (usually friend/s of the joined trill) so that the current host can interact with its previous occupants in a one on one scenario.

How Dhanishta was going to extract Naut, which was essentially a part of her own psyche, so that she could interact with her face to face was… erm, well… a mystery.

Which was why she was on her way to the shuttle bay to find the only person on the ship with life times of experience, one so much older than she, who had performed the ceremony a dozen times before, the only person who might be able to tell her if her plan would actually work. The only problem was which rotten, manky, mangled corpse was he?

She walked down the halls of the Galaxy, her baggy white cotton pants fluttering in the wake of her walk, her skinny fit black tank top detailing the contours of her chest, after all what was the point in wearing her uniform? She wasn’t on duty, and after her violent attack on Turan it was unlikely that she would see the inside of engineering anytime in the next century.

During her ‘stomps’ round the ship, which she had ritually taken every day to pass the time between counselling sessions, she was surprised that she hadn’t visited this deck. Maybe it was the possibility that the fighter pilots were even more gross to look at than the rest of the crew. Or maybe it was the underlying fear that there was going to be nothing left of them to look at. And what was more disturbing; seeing walking skeletons or a pile of humanoid remains stuck together? Would bits of them actually fall off as they spoke?

With the imagery of that last thought Dhani stopped. Turning on her heals she strode back to the turbo lift.

“Deck eight.” She called out. Sighing she leaned against the wall. ~ Plan B ~, she thought, ~ what the hell is plan B? ~

Eshe, Dhanishta
Lieutenant (Jg)
Engineer

BACK POST

“Letters to my Psyche Part Two.”

“NAUT!” Dhanishta shouted as the doors to her quarters closed behind her,

“We need to talk!”

After feeding her starving cat, Salem, she headed straight for her bathroom, dropping a garment of clothing with each step. For the past three days Dhani had been stuck in the Brig. Sitting in her holding cell listening to Naut and her inner voices thrash things out, or rather shout the same things over and over, covered in her own puke and Truans blood, she had one hell of a headache and boy did she stink.

Stepping into the cubical she turned on the water. She usually preferred sonic showers, they were quicker and more efficient, but there was something more cleansing about a shower with water. Not just the obvious factor but a more spiritual one, cleansing the sole, washing away her sins. And she was in need of that, after attacking Truan…..

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

*Previously in ‘You were my husband’ (by Truan Trelar and Dhanishta Eshe)*

“Turan?” she whispered.

Turan turned around looked at the female officer.

"You know me, ma'am?" he asked amazed. It took a blink of an eye until the small communicator he wore started translating. It took another blink of a second for Turan to realize that a baldy big headed alien who over-towered the average crew member by at least two heads should be a prime topic soon.

Nevertheless there was something special with this female. Although Turan spent most of his time watching the ship's crew and studied their behaviour, it was hard for him to distinguish different crew members of the same race. This Terran female was different, kind of familiar. No doubt, he never met that woman before, didn't he?

Dhanishta took several tender steps towards him. It felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat and her lungs had decreased in size; she found it hard to breath, either that or she wasn’t breathing! Before she even realised what she was doing she was standing in front of him, on tip toes, reaching up for him. Her hand curled around his neck, pulling him towards her. Drawing his lips to her own. There was a moment, not so much of hesitation but a moment of pause where she looked into his eyes. Just as she had looked into his eyes so many times before. There was something different this time though. Before, when she had looked into his eyes she had seen her reason to survive. Him. He had needed her, needed to believe in the aliens from the stars, needed her to meet the rest. But there was no need in his eyes this time.

Still she drew him nearer, as her lips connected softly with his, grazing ever so gently, she pushed herself up on to the tips of her toes so that their lips made full on contact, deep and passionate. Memories, warm and inviting of Turan floated through her mind. Their first meeting over the moba fruit, the first time he touched her, the first sunset they watched together, the first kiss….. all these memories wove together painting a pretty picture in her head. She began to think about all the last things as Naut had done when they left the planet. Looking out from the shuttle window, full of longing and sorrow, her life companion torn away from her, another low blow from Starfleet. A tear trickled down her cheek as it had then, she remembered the last time she ever saw him; they were standing on the top of a sand dune. She had been crying, she was angry, looking down the hill she could see the Starfleet officers. She began to run down the dune, her makeshift shoes flying off her feet, she pulled out a weapon and began to fire at them, all of them. All her rage spilling out as she pulled the trigger. And then she hit the dirt, hard.

She recoiled from Turan’s lips, her eyes wide as she realised what had happened. Her hands fell from his face, she stood for a moment staring at him. It didn’t take long for the rage to burn, never mind coiling inside it just burst out. Her hand which till now had been limp at her side sprung up for an upper cut, in mid air curled into a fist, and met squarely with the underside of Turan’s jaw.

“YOU SHOT ME!” she screamed out in Quintarish.

Turan was not able to avoid the blow. In deed, he didn't even see that fist coming. The fist performed a perfect hit, that drove Turan into semi-unconsciousness. Turan stumbled back wards to be stopped by the cold duranium of a bulkhead.

The tall Quentite boy shook his head to regain consciousness. Is this way the species with the partly camouflaged skin uses to make a first contact with an unknown alien species? But no, despite the fact, the female knew his name, the words, she screamed were definitely Quentinarish.

"Where do you know me from, Ma'am? What have I done to deserve it?" asked Turan quite puzzled and rubbed his jaw.

Dhani, or maybe it was Naut, who could tell? Continued to scream! Anger vented like the steam from a kettle and she continued to pound on the unsuspecting Turan, “You shot me! You absolute ………. you……. you…..” she continued to assault him verbally in his native tongue, as well as physically. Unfortunately for Turan she had been taught to fight by Klingons, the warrior race. No girlie slaps erupted from her, no scratches or half punches, oh no! Every blow made solid contact with a part of his anatomy….

****

Dhani sighed and turned up the water a few degrees. Testing it on the back of her hand she watched as the spray filled up the tiny hairs on her arm. Stepping under the cascade she lowered her head feeling the water as it pounded on the back of her neck. Slowly she turned around letting the water flow all over her body, tickling her slightly as it rippled and rolled down her back and off her bottom.

Prior to that she had been signed off duty after having died! The events leading up to that were quite shocking, after having been trained by a Vulcan ‘n’ all. Having suffered with insomnia for months, well, since she joined the ship, she had tried seeking help from her old mentor Sark – the Vulcan. He unfortunately managed to piss her off even more and, enraged she totally trashed her quarters. Then proceeded to get drunk in the bar, during which her C.O showed up, Commander Ethan Suder. After a fisticuffs with him, passing out, throwing up and passing out again she was miraculously late for work, no surprise there!

What she hadn’t realised, even the in the morning as she tried to get dressed for work, with McDowell screaming at her over the comm, pulling socks over swelling and bleeding feet, is just how much damage she had done to herself during the night.

Apart from the minor cuts, slashes and bruises over her feet, legs, arms, chest and face, she had a broken or rather shattered one of her hands. She had a severe concussion – a nasty gash to the head (a possible skull factor.) But the icing on the cake was the punctured lung caused by a broken rib. The latter two occurred when she launched herself on to her bed which happened not to be there, aka landing very heavily on the floor and god only knows what else. Not surprising that her body said ‘sod off’ and gave up the ghost.

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

(Previously in ‘Inner Struggle’ by Dhanishta Eshe and Michael McDowell.)

Michael knew it the instant he felt Dhani's body slump down. His heart skipped a beat. The next instant anxiety took hold of him which turned into panic. "No, No! Don't do this to me Dhani!! Don't you do this to me!" Michael shouted. The next instant he hit his combadge. "McDowell to Sickbay.

Medical emergency! Beam us straight to Sickbay, now!!"

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

But eh, he. Those Starfleet doc’s wouldn’t have any of that!

But the events between then and now, well they were harder to place. Mostly because they didn’t actually happen….but they had!

Ah the confusion of temporal mechanics.

Dhani watched as each bubble like droplet bounced off her skin taking with it the dirt and grime of the last few days. If only it were as simple as that to remove all the things she had done, which were as equally filthy. With her index finger she traced a single stream of water back up to the nozzle, feeling the pressure build under her nail.

Turan didn’t remember the 30 years Dhani had spent with him on Quintin, he didn’t even know who she was, not a single spark of recognition. Maybe that was for the best, the last thing Dhani really wanted was a teenager with a crush on her tail. To actually explain that she or rather Naut never actually loved him, would just be too much to face.

But still the hurt ran deep.

Walking around the ship and hearing the crew recall their deaths, like it was some bad dream was worse enough. The fact that they could all dismiss it as such infuriated her.

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

("Previously in ‘Freedom to Know’ by Captain Eliza Stuart and Lieutenant JG Dhanishta Eshe.)

"You have no idea what happened here, do you" Dhani asked

"Not in the least," Eliza replied truthfully. She knew nothing of the investigation.

"Come." She said grabbing the Captains arm and leading her like a child to the bridge.

"You see this person here?" she questioned pointing to the nearest body, "Man or woman? Hard to tell isn't it. But I can reach out and grab its spinal cord and play puppet show!" She turned sharply to the next unsuspecting person that wondered by, "You!" she called out, "You died on impact." Turning on her heals she strode across the bridge to the next person, "You weren't even on the bridge." She began to point at people, it looked random to the naked eye but she was right on every account, "You died when a falling support beam hit you, took your head right off! You were crushed to death." She was by the main view screen now, all eyes on her, as she addressed the entire occupants of the bridge,

"All those dreams you've been having; the nightmares of death, your death, however horrible, however gruesome. Well they are real. It happened. But do you know why?" She turned and looked down at the helms officer she stood next to, "You, do you know why you died?" She didn't wait for an answer just turned to the next. Pointing up to the tactical station, "You, she called out." Whilst making her way forward towards the arc, "Do you know what valiant cause you gave your life for so freely?" She turned back to the Captain, almost on top of her now, nose to nose, "Don't you think they should?" she questioned with such force that spit sprayed from her mouth.

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

Ah the last bit! The head. A shower was never refreshing without getting the hair wet. The ticklish sensation as only one or two droplets make it through the mass of hair to the scalp, and then as the rest follow through, soaking the entire head, completing the rejuvenation process.

Dhani sighed again; all these conflicting emotions were tearing her apart. She was like a walking ‘jack in the box’, exploding at the most inappropriate moments. Her C.O thought she was crazy, and to be honest he was probably right. The ships counsellor was never going to let her see the insides of engineering any time soon, and with the amount of time she had spent in sick bay she should really put in for a transfer!

She turned off the water. Leaning with both palms on the wall she lowered her head, the continuous arguments with Naut, neither one letting the other finish for fear of being quashed out of existence, was killing her. Her body ached from the strain, her head throbbed from the stress and her nose bled from the pressure, it had to stop.

She had to find a way.

She lingered in the shower cubical a while longer, the water dripping from her body, splashing to the floor, mingling with the excess. She wiggled her toes in the puddle till it drained.

She had to find a way.

A Naut free way.

Eshe, Dhanishta
Lieutenant Jg
Engineer Galaxy

BACK POST

“Plan B”

It was at times like these Dhani was grateful that her father was a scientist, and that she actually listened when he explained things to her, Kala never had. Being daddy’s little girl was finally going to pay off.

The science lab was deserted at this time of night, which made it easier for Dhani to cover her tracks as she was sure that ‘plan B’ would be against all Starfleet protocol.

Sitting down at a station she began tapping away at the control panel. Finding the information she needed was easy, but finding the ingredients was going to be the hard part. It wasn’t standard Starfleet protocol to supply hallucinogenic drugs, never mind the information of the ingredients to make them yourself.

After several hours she stood up in front of her computer screen, each hand beside it. Her eyes were wide from staring at it for so long. The computer banks were full of information about the drugs, spanning back century’s for each species and their cultures but none of them specified there ingredients or quantities. And so far none of the drugs mentioned were suitable for the task at hand. She knew that it was a desperate measure, but that was her situation, desperate.

Sighing she turned away and rubbed the back of her neck. She had been in the same position for hours and her muscles had ceased up. Time for a break she decided. Leaving the science lab she wondered down the halls, no destination in mind. There were quite a few officers milling about and she guessed that it must be about seven in the morning, what a long fruitless night it had been. After a while she found her self in the mess hall, in line for the repilactor.

Not knowing what she wanted she listened to the others in front of her, hoping that there orders would inspire her,

“Full English breakfast.” Was the first order that she overheard by some young human lieutenant.

“Raktajino.” Was the next made by a yet another human.

“You look like you could use some herbal tea.”

Dhani looked up, wondering if that comment was directed at her. It wasn’t, it was directed at the young ensign ordering the raktajino.

“Really?” he asked, “I thought strong coffee was the way to go after pulling a double shift.”

The woman shook her head, “Oh no, herbal tea is much more refreshing, and it’s better for you. Once you go herbal you’ll never go back.” She giggled. Obviously flirting but Dhani didn’t wait to hear any more. She fled out of thee mess hall and back to her quarters. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She had a bag full of different types of herbs in her quarters. She felt like kicking herself.

It didn’t take very long for her quarters to become a bomb site as she rampaged through cargo crates looking for the herbs.

Salem wondered through, dodging flying objects, mewing as he went, obviously hungry. Dhani scoped him up, “look what I’ve found..” she said waving the bag in front of him, a grin across her face. Salem mewed again brushing his head against her chin.

“Okay, okay.” She cooed as she walked over to the replicator. “Cat food.” She ordered. Putting Salem down she gave him his food and watched him for a moment as he tucked in.

Sitting down at her desk she began to plan out her ritual for ridding herself of Naut once and for all. She had the herbs, all she needed now was a large mirror some candles and some incense…….

Pilot Tyten
Vanguard 5
USS Galaxy

"Do Not Go Quietly Into That Cold Night"

Someone was screaming.

Why didn't someone stop them?

Someone was still screaming and it was bothering him.

Someone should really stop that person.

Tyten's mind floated between consciousness and unconsciousness as the screaming continued. Something cold and painful started in his arm and swept through his body. It was at that moment, with grim discovery, that Tyten realised that he was the one screaming. Even as he did, he felt his life force fading, ever slowly.

He was being tortured.

The memory of what had transpired over the last ten minutes caming flooding back. They had wanted information. Information about the capabilities of his fighter, about his duties on the ship, and any other confidential information that he might have. He had resisted them with every ounce of strength he had. The end result had been that he now had none.

Now, he lay on this table of their's not wanting to go on. He had had enough. If they wanted to kill him over information that he was unwilling to give to them despite the pain, then so be it. He would die in honor having given nothing to a ruthless enemy. And so, he let go, consigning his soul to the fates. The screaming stopped and he smiled.

He just wish it wasn't so annoyingly cold.

"Tyten..."

Her voice was pleasing to his ears and somehow...was familiar.

"Tyten, honey, it's not your time."

He opened his eyes to see the woman from his dreams. The one who the younger version of himself had called mother. She stood there before him and the only thing that he could think of was that someone needed to get her a coat.

"Mooommmm?" he said slowly. His mind felt like he was trudging through water.

She smiled. "You need to stay here. You are needed here," she said.

"But why?"

"You are not meant to leave this life like this and not at this time. Fight it!"

And as if that was answer enough, she was gone. Her voice was replaced by a low laughter, a sound much harsher on his ears. He looked and saw two figures standing over him. The man in the dark cloak. Tyten knew somehow that it was his voice that was laughing.

A third figure joined them.

"Have you achieved anything?"

"No, but it is only a matter of time," said the man in the dark cloak.

"Time is a luxuary that you do not have. It is finished. Wipe his memory and let him go. We will gather the information from the others."

"But I.." the man in the dark cloak began but a sharp look from the other man cut him short.

"Do it quickly."

**********

Tyten cursed his bladder. There was something about the cold that made his bladder become overly active. A joke about yellow snow crossed his mind but he decided that it was probably best kept to himself. He stepped out of what had constitued a Breen bathroom. He had become too acustom to Federation comforts, something the Breen had never experienced themselves after what he just experienced.

Looking at his escort he said, "Well, I think I'm ready to join the others again."

“It’s a Prototype!”

(Backpost - En-Route to Breen homeworld)

Commander Jerri Wolfson,
Chief Engineer

Commander Jaal Jaxom,
Chief Operations Officer

Lieutenant (JG) Ariss Edon
Security/Tactical Officer

USS Miranda
Main Engineering

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

Stepping into main engineering, Ariss looked at the warp core in appreciation. ~ Now 'this' is impressive ~ he thought. For a moment, he wondered briefly why he had transferred from engineering. Fixing things was fun, and there was a definite 'yes or no' to most problems. Security was, well, a little more open to interpretation at times, there was occasionally more than one answer to a problem. Law was confusing at times. ~ Though you do get to shoot things ~ he thought with a smile.

"Can I help you Sir?"

Confused briefly, Ariss didn't answer. He looked around for the officer, then realised the Ensign was addressing him. ~ That's gonna take a bit more getting used to! ~ "No thank you Ensign. I'm just here to see the Chief and Commander Jaxom." Walking through engineering, Ariss tapped on the chiefs office door. “Commander?” Sticking his head round the door, “Permission to come in?” he asked.

Jerri looked up at the sound, carefully putting down the PADD she and Jaal had been looking at on top of the rather precarious stack of components and PADDs that she had been accumulating over the years. Like she had contended for a long time, they really did multiply the minute one turns their head. "Come on in, Lieutenant. Is this the man you were telling me about, Jaal?"

The Trill commander nodded, "Yeah, he has some interesting ideas for some new holography. I thought it would be worth a look. I didn't want to go screwing with anything in 'your' territory though." He winked once at the Chief Engineer. The long standing 'friendly' rivalry between engineering and operations had always been great amusement to Jaal.

Walking into the office, Ariss stepped up to the desk and put the FEMH and his PADDs down before standing to attention. “Thank you for taking the time to se me Commanders.” Looking between the two. “Well sirs,” picking up a PADD, “Where would you like me to begin. I’ve got all my data and test notes here, as well as the device itself.”

"I've generally found that the beginning works best. Or, rather, simple explanation then get into the technical mumbo-jumbo," Jerri advised with a brief smile.

“Aye Sir” Ariss said smiling. “Basically Sirs, what I have here is a self contained, fully autonomous, Field Emergency Medical Hologram. I got the idea from a project pathfinder report. As you can see," he said, activating the unit, "it's a lot larger than the voyager device, but this has been created with current tech. What I have managed to do, is create a Mobile holo emitter, that should allow a Mark I EMH, to operate outside a holo equipped environment for up to four days. Though I'm working on extending that."

Picking up a PADD, he passed it to Wolfson. "This is the technical specs of the unit sir," pushing the floating device over the desk, he left it there for inspection. "The unit itself will be encased in the hologram, so it'll be unseen. And it's shielded, so it can withstand radiation and energy levels far beyond what a protected humanoid could tolerate. It has a standard backup holo matrix core, with two miniature bio-neural gel packs for processing. Only one is actually needed, the other is a redundant. Anti gravs keep it afloat within the hologram, and provide movement for it as well. Speed is comparable to a normal human. There are other bits here obviously, but it's all in the specs. Extra memory buffers have been installed, and the Mk I database has been upgraded as far as I could. It's approximately the level of a Mark V now."

"I had to use a Mark One, because of processing limitations, but I've made no changes to the holo matrix except for the database, and the physical parameters. At the CMO's suggestion, I've altered the Doc so 'he' is now a 'she'. One, because of the acronym. FEMH. And the other occurred to me after. It'll differentiate this EMH from our backup in sickbay.

Picking up another PADD, he checked it and put it on the desk between the officers. "That's a run down of the tests I've performed on the unit, and its operational parameters." Picking up another PADD, "And this one is a report on the unit when it was used briefly in the GQ. We had to get her help there when a Q'Lrn probe was in distress."

"The CMO didn't seem overly, enthusiastic, but suggested I speak to you regarding this." Shutting up for a second, Ariss looked at the two officers.

"What's wrong with the old EMH that has caused you to come up with an entirely new design?" Jaal asked curiously.

"Well, absolutely nothing. That's why I've used the basic Mk I EMH, as I said, I've made almost no modifications to it. The only reason I'm using a Mk I template is hardware issues. This unit would have difficulties with a Mk III, and wouldn't be able to support a Mk V. It's down to processing and the holo matrix. As far as I'm concerned the EMH is a great tool. All I'm working on here is mobility. The EMH on Voyager proved an invaluable asset to them, especially since their doctor died as soon as they got to the Delta Quadrant. The EMH's usefulness and resourcefulness increased when they obtained a mobile emitter."

Tapping the device, "That's all this really is. A dedicated EMH integrated into the hardware. The mobility aspect is what I've been working on here. The EMH has advantages over a biological doctor; she can't be affected by a lot of environmental factors that would stop a normal doctor, nor can she be affected telepathically."

Jaal rubbed his chin in thought. He was eager to hear Jerri's assessment before making any comments of his own.

Wolfson skimmed through the specs with a thoughtful frown on her face, "Well, we know that what you've proposed is feasible, even doable. The benefits are obvious, however, what I am curious about are the safety protocols that you've installed on the device. Your modifications have impacted some of the critical components of the software, admittedly not many, but enough for concern."

"It looks to me like you're trying to create, if you haven't already, an autonomous 'being'. A holographic android? Would that be right?" Jaal asked.

Looking slightly confused for a second, Ariss nodded. “I tried to alter the holo matrix as little as possible Sir, where I did make changes I tried to stick to the ‘manual’ as it were I found on the computer. There is a very good interactive diagnostic program built into the Mk I, based on Doc Zimmerman, I used it to ask about the changes I made. He was, well, somewhat acerbic about me playing with his creation. I didn’t realize my modifications had impacted the unit in that way Sir. I’m no holo programmer, so I tried to play around as little as possible.”

"As to the ‘holographic android’. I suppose, yes, you could see it that way. The EMH's already have a measure of autonomy, it's designed into them so they can do their job. Decision making and conversational abilities so they can interact and adapt. This model simply has the advantage of mobility. It's really the logical next step for the EMH. The idea is already out there, courtesy of the EMH from Voyager, sooner or later someone like me was bound to try and reproduce the idea. If you think about it, based on the possible future Voyager must have encountered, the idea's there, we just haven't built it yet." Wrinkling his forehead in confusion, Ariss stopped and looked confused for a second. "I'm not sure that made complete sense, and I'm not going to go back and think about it.”

“Prophets. I hate temporal mechanics!" He finished, still looking a little confused.

"Yeah, me too," Jaal added. "They 'always' give me a headache."

Nodding, “Anyway,” Ariss said, “Getting back to the Doc here, how would she need to be, ‘tweaked’ I guess to ensure stability and operational safety?”

Several answers came to Jaal's mind, all of which brought a playful mental admonishment from Taalis, but what he said was, "I'll need to study the program for a bit, then I'll be able to give a more informed answer." he looked at Jerri, "What do you think?"

"Well, being able to study it further would be a boon," Jerri nodded after a thoughtful pause, "For the moment, I'll recommend further study on Jaal's part. He is, after all, the resident 'computer geek.'” She grinned slightly before she continued, "I'll need to review your schematics further before I can give you any recommendations, as well. Can we adjourn this discussion until, say, tomorrow at 1300 hours to give each of us a chance to review what you have here?"

“Sure, sounds fine,” Ariss agreed. Tapping the FEMH gently, he let it float over to Commander Wolfson, picking up his PADD’s he considered which precarious pile of PADD’s to put these extra one’s on. Choosing a vacant spot on the desk, he decided instead to start another pile. “Thanks for you time Sir, both of you, I appreciate it, and thanks for listening.”

"The 'Kids' Story: Bregman Muscles in" or (ala Emmett) "Kid, you have NO idea who you're dealing with."

by Emmett Bregman
(Laurel)

&
Tyrone Miller (Rich)

----

Have you ever noticed how Starfleet officers can seem to run around like chickens with their heads cut off during a crisis? Be it a battle, an alien virus, or Klingons in tutus, it's a barely controlled chaotic mess. Personally, I've always found it rather funny.

Rundell gave me the usual 'keep to the shelter' speech during the attack - like I actually listen to him. So I did my own usual nod, smile, and sneak out after the good Commander left the deck. With Chip and Dale - my two erstwhile camera and sound men - in tow, I decided to make my rounds. Or, rather, to make my rounds of the shelters. Human interest stories are wonderful things - especially when they're punctuated by stories of heroism, knights on white chargers, and other such crap. Besides, they were mostly civilians. They couldn't pass on the death threats and otherwise quite like the main players on the ship after all.

Of course, I knew that there would be some competition on the good starship Galaxy now, but that didn't bother me much. I was, after all, representing FNN *and* the President of the Federation, himself. Am I bragging? Hell yes. I wouldn't be Emmett Bregman if I wasn't.

Besides, it's what people expect. It is, I suppose, why they love me so much...

-------

Emmett Bregman, documentary maker, journalist, senior field reporter, and assorted other titles earned or otherwise, walked into the shelter (not quite his assigned one, but hey, the Galaxy crew knew his penchant for wandering) with a saunter in his step and a gleam in his eye. Those that knew him well would recognize that particular gleam as one to be rather wary of. Then again, none of these civilians knew him well for which they were probably thankful - that is if they knew him.

His trained eyes caught the sign of the Dictaphone and the kid who obviously knew how to use it. Admittedly the 'kid' was probably only ten years younger than he, but that still made him a 'kid' in his eyes. A 'kid' in his territory. Pasting a smile on his face, Emmett approached the 'kid' and held out his hand. "Emmett Bregman, FNN, currently assigned to the Galaxy with a documentary crew. And you are?"

Tyrone turned around to see the man who'd identified himself as Emmett Bregman. 'So there were Rival Journalists on the Galaxy' he thought. Bluntly he replied, "Miller, Tyrone Miller. Federation News Service." He didn't even take the offered hand, and why the hell should he. This was his story, and someone was trying to muscle in on what could be the greatest story of his career.

Emmett arched an eyebrow at the refusal to shake his hand, but he continued smiling amiably enough. He definitely caught the 'how dare you come in here' tone in Tyrone's voice and decided to continue talking with the 'kid' just to see how he'd react. That was one of the things that amused Emmett the most - the reactions of others. "FNS, huh? This a permanent assignment to the Galaxy for you, Tyrone, or are you just stopping through?" Besides, this kid better not be here for a documentary. If he was, well...this was his turf. Alpha dog, and all that jazz.

"We'll see," he replied. Truth be told, he'd only been told about his assignment to the Galaxy mere hours before they'd been shipped out, and even then he was only told he was covering the Breen story. He'd never even considered that he could be a permanent correspondent for the Galaxy. It seemed ironic that for a journalist he didn't have much interest in conversation at the minute. "Listen, Bregman. I don't know who you are or what you expect me to say to you, but this is my story, and I intend to get it."

"It's a big ship, kid," Emmett shrugged, though inwardly he was chuckling at the posing. News was, after all, free. That the 'kid' didn't even recognize him was actually something of a shock. Most journalists had heard of their competitors, especially when it came to the more *ahem* famous ones. But he wasn't bragging or anything of the sort. "Plenty of room provided you don't burn some rather well connected bridges. Look up Pulitzer and Academy award winners when you get the chance, kid. You might be surprised what you find. Shep, Dale," he directed the last to his camera crew, "Let's set up over there."

Bregman pointed towards a huddled group of civilians situated next to a rather prime shot of the view "outside" - brought courtesy of cameras and sensors situated on the hull or, in the case at the moment, of the ship's computer library. It was one of the things that was an attempt to calm those who were stuck 'indoors' during the fight.

Watching this guy set up his team nearby in the shelter was interesting to say the least. To Ty, it seemed like this Bregman guy was a bit of a show off, and very hung up on himself. It was almost like he thought of himself as being on a higher level of existence and intelligence than anybody else. Tyrone found that quite amusing. 'And what was that about Academy Awards', Miller thought.

"Shep," Emmett said gesturing for the cameraman to start recording. The best news broadcasts had very few images of the actual reporter, and more of those that were right in the middle of whatever newsworthy event that was taking place. Besides, he did know what award winning footage looked like - he *was* Emmett Bregman after all.

Miller wandered over to Bregman and his crew. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" This was his story; his story. The last thing he wanted was some self serving egotist who only seemed to be interested in screwing up everyone else's day. 'And all that from my first impression', Miller thought.

Emmett looked at the kid with an _expression of disgust, rather possessive kid wasn't he? "What do you *think* I'm doing? It's called a news broadcast, kid. They must really keep you sheltered over at FNS. Now why don't you go back to playing with your Dictaphone and let a master work?" After that speech, Emmett completely dismissed Tyrone from his 'sphere of thought' and continued directing Shep towards the more 'choice' footage. He'd be ready for his actual coverage within the next ten minutes or so. He just needed to figure out just the right verbage...

Tyrone was getting tired of this. And having Bregman just dismiss him like that only made the situation worse. One thing he did know, was that if he kept talking on the footage, the sound would be useless, and what was a news feed without sound. "I know what it is", he said in a disgruntled tone, "what I wanna know is why you're doing it here."

Emmett smiled to himself, 'Ah, a challenge.' He knew what the kid thought he was doing. Amateur. Didn't he realize that it wasn't necessary to have the sound on when capturing footage? Bregman turned to face the kid and placed his hand on Tyrone's shoulder and turned him to face the other end of the shelter, "I told you what it was, kid. If you can't comprehend the why of this, that's not my fault. It's yours and your leash holders. Go back to playing in your sandbox before you hurt yourself." He gave him a gentle push towards the opposite bulkhead and returned his attention to his camera crew. "Dale, capture some sound bites from over there," he gestured towards the other side of the shelter. The Starfleet officer nodded and walked in that direction. Slowly walking back to where he'd been making his notes for his story, he vowed that it would not be over between Bregman and him. He also vowed that he would indeed look up Award winners, and see what Bregman was getting on his high horse about. It was far from over...

Commander Jack Dawson
Asst. Chief Engineer
USS Miranda

"Second Hand Smoke"

Working with all the fury and might that his hands could muster, Jack tried to repair the relay to the fire supression unit on Deck 12, section four. With each hit that the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans scored on the Miranda, Jack could imagine Jerri down in Engineering cursing and shaking her fist at them. He laughed, which cause him to inhale, which in turn caused him to take in smoke that was starting to fill the deck, which ultimately resulted in him coughing.

"Sir, are you ok?" a junior grade lieutenant nearby questioned him.

Jack waved him off as he said, "I'm fine. Just took up a little more smoke than I expected to." He looked around at the growing fire. "We need to get some hand units down here to put these fires out before they spread. That last shot fried a lot more than we initially thought. First order of business is getting people out of this section. Can I trust you to do that?"

The officer nodded and headed on his way. Black soot coverd his face and small beads of sweat cut their way through the grime. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. He had long abandonded his uniform jacket and had zipped open his undershirt exposing his neckline. At first look, one might have mistaken him for a miner rather than an engineer, though there was some debate by some that they were one in the same.

"Jack."

Jack turned to see who had called his name, but found no one there.

"Jack, come back to us."

This time he stood and turned completely. He checked down the corridor, but aside from a few work crews who appeard to be focused solely on their work, no one else was around. Shrugging it off, he turned back to his work when a scream ripped though the corridor. Jumping, he sprinted down the hallway. "What was that!?" he demanded of the work crews.

The action served to only garner him a few confused looks. "What was what, sir?"

Feeling very chagrined, he said, "I thought I heard someone scream. Nevermind, must have been hearing things."

Walking back to his tools, it hit him three times harder than it had been before. This time it was several voices and this time he realized that it wasn't Federation standard that he was hearing and now he recognized the voices. It was T'Kith'Kin and the voices belonged to those he had heard every night for years.

"Jack, we're just outside. You could come home to us," a stronger voice said over them all.

There was no mistaking this voice for he had loathed the sound of it every evening he went to sleep and every morning he woke. It was the voice that accompanied his daily beatings.

By now, his breathing had accelerated along with his heart rate. He started coughing violently as the acidic smoke filled his lungs. The voices hammered louder in his head as the world around him began to spin. In unison now they all screamed his name.

He fell to the floor, unable to move until the blackness of unconsciousness claimed him.

"That's Your Plan?"
by Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall

First sign that something was going wrong: communications were cut between the room they were in and the ships. Abigail looked around, and saw the awareness of the situation on everyone's face.

Abigail would have liked to believe that it was merely a glitch that caused them to lose the line, but she wasn't that naive. It was something that she had been expecting every since they had entered into Breen space. The sudden, but inevitable, betrayal by the enemies of the Federation. She had hoped that everything would go smoothly, that the Breen were honestly wanting to come up to the table and come away as allies, but somewhere inside, she knew that the odds of it happening were slim to none.

Slim had obviously just left town.

Second sign that something was going wrong: the cyborg opened his leg and pulled out phasers, passing them to the Captain, Smith, and Wikkins, after Krieghoff had turned down the use of one.

It was nice to know that they were not completely unprepared, but she also had no illusions about the effectiveness of three type I phasers in the middle of a Breen compound, surrounded by Breen soldiers, all of them holding something that outclassed their weapons by more then a little bit.

To say that they were going to be outgunned was a little bit of an understatement.

Third sign that something had gone seriously wrong: the so-called plan that Captain Elaithin had come up with. The Breen were going to come in shooting, they were going to resist, and then they were all going to be taken captive.

Abigail sighed in disgust, readying herself for the doors to open. Adrenaline was pumped into her system, and her heart began beating faster.

The door opened and the Breen came in shooting.

A shot went over her head, and Abigail hit the floor behind the chair that she had been sitting in, using it for cover. She wasn't trying to get away, but she did not think that being shot would help her in any way.

Unfortunately, or not, the chair she was in was backed into a corner so the only way that Abigail could see what was going on would be to either stick her head out from behind the high back of the cushioned chair, which would be the height of folly, or see if she could scoot the chair out a little ways to lay down and peer out from underneath.

Deciding that the second choice was by far the better, Abigail pushed the chair forward as shots rang haphazardly around the room. it seemed as though minutes had already passed, but no more then ten or fifteen seconds had passed since the first shot rang out in the room.

Abigail flattened herself, and pushed her head and shoulders underneath the chair. Luckily, she was slight, and the clearance was enough that she could maneuver around.

She looked around, and saw bodies on the floor. Several Breen were down, and it looked as though at least one of their side was on the floor also. Abigail did not make any sort of motion to go to the fallen. There was nothing that she could do to help anyone who was injured.

She heard shouts coming from near then door, and then the unmistakable whine of transporters energizing. The room was suddenly much more crowded, and much louder, as more Breen materialized and began shooting.

Abigail put her hands up to cover her ears as the sounds of phaser fire reverberated off the walls, throwing the sound around until it was hard for her to tell where it was coming from. She hated looking childish, as she knew she must, but when given the choice between going temporarily deaf from the noise, or looking childish, she knew what her choice was.

She kept her eyes open, watching as the entire drama unfolded. Her mind was cataloguing everything, putting it into compartments that might come in handy the next time she was called in to negotiate anything. Even if she was called in to negotiate some kind of cease fire - which she doubted - she wanted to remember what she saw here.

It also gave her some interesting insights into the characters of those she had beamed down with as she saw who fought back, who got out of Dodge, and who stood there like a bump on a log.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be any of the latter. That would have been just asking for someone to come up and shoot you.

"Do not move." The voice came, impassive, low, but loud enough to carry over the noise of shooting. Abigail turned her head to the side and saw a muzzle pointing at her. The chair was pushed out in front of her, and Abigail lifted her hands in the universal signal saying that she was unarmed.

Slowly, the shooting began to die down, and the Breen that was holding his weapon pointed at her motioned for her to rise. She did so slowly, carefully, making sure that she was not going to get caught by a stray bolt. By this time, she was fairly certain that they were not shooting to kill, but she would much rather be safe then sorry.

Once she had regained her feet, she looked around. There were several bodies on the floor, but the rest of the team were also being held at phaser point, and none of them looked very happy about it.

"The Greatest Pain"

Counselor Ammanalyn Llywhyn on the planet Breen

-----------------------------------------------

Ammanalyn tried to remember the last time she was so terrified.

Truth was, her top three moments had all occurred within the last minute and a half.

First, the battle in space began. All she could do was watch, largely ignored by the rest of the team, all of whom had better things to do than worry about a frightened little girl counselor who shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Then the Breen came in and the yelling commenced.

Then, the fire fight began, really out of anyone's controls. As she lay on the floor, hands covering her ears, trying to keep the tears at bay with Tampatiaen plastered against her, she tried to figure out who fired first. Her thoughts, often so tuned to those small details, betrayed her. All she could think was the fear. Traumatic stress, she thought, in these situations...

Tampatiaen started growling, but that slowly turned into a wimper as he tried to push her into action, using his form in effort to get her to move. With the firing slowing, as people were throwing down their weapons and giving in, Am turned her head. Her eyes widened frantically as they beheld the very large, particularly fierce looking Breen (if any Breen looked any more or less fearsome than any other in those suits -- perhaps it was just that this one was coming toward her with obviously malicious intent).

In a panic, Ammanalyn quickly pushed herself up, moving on her hands and knees, then hands and feet as she tried to stand, her small, frightened body not seeming to want to right itself. Tampatiaen was running back with her, as always, close by, backing up, growling, shaking fearfully at the approaching creature.

She wasn't completely aware what was happening until the Breen had picked her up by her arms. The suddenness was shocking, but nearly so much as the pain the shot through her.

It wasn't physical pain, this was so much deeper, cutting her soul.

She screamed out loud, never having felt something so deep. Tampatiaen had been touched before, but often it would be a loving pet by a curious child or a brief brush from a human hand or a bump from a careless traveler. It was never with the malicious intent of the Breen that now held him tight by the scruff of his neck. Tam was crying, unable to even shift out of the predicament, though Ammanalyn was able to struggle, reaching for him, desperately trying to get away, unable to keep from shouting at the pain.

"Let him go!" she screamed. "Let him go! He can't hurt! Let him go! Please PLEASE PLEASE!"

The Breen ignored her and began to pull them further apart. "NO! NO! PLEASE!" she screamed, kicking and flailing with all her strength until the Breen that held her, dropped her.

Falling to the ground stunned her enough to notice the shooting had stopped. "PLEASE!" she shouted one final time, the pain too great to stay coherent.

They'd hold this against her, she would have thought, if she could have thought of anything other than her beloved Tam.

[ooc: not my best work, but I had to get something in for this part of the story; anyone of my fellow prisoners wanna rescue them?]

"More cases"

by
Koen as James A. Brooke

Brooke was tired, as was the rest of the medical crew, but wounded kept coming in. Some had almost nothing, making Brooke wonder why they came here at all, knowing there were so many who really needed the medical assistance. But that was life for you, some people coming down with the most trivial things. He also wanted to know what was going on, but that was something the medical crew always heared afterwards.

"Doctor," a man in gold tunic asked him, "can you look at my arm, I think it's broken." Brooke had taken a short break, which simply meant an hour or so without major surgery. There was simply no time to take a real break. That would have to wait untill later. "Sure," he said, taking out his tricorder and doing a quick scan. "It's not broken," Brooke said, going over the results, "just sprained. I'll give you something to take the pain away, and you simply would have to take it easy with the arm for a couple of days."

"Doctor Brooke," a nurse called, "plasma burns, from engineering." "Okay," he said, rushing to the surgery room, "you take him, just a sprained arm." So far the break. Coming inside, he saw why they had called him. This was going to take a while, to fix everything. Like a month or so. But right now Brooke would settle for the patient to survive. "Okay, let's get him stable," he said, starting the all too familiar procedure, as they had had the chance to practice quite some time today.

This time it took him three hours to get the patient in a state in which he could lie in bed without being able to sleep because of the pain, and from which they could continue the rest of the process. In the mean time the number of wounded had diminished. "Looks like the battle is over," he said, "and clearly we won. Well, I'll be in the office starting on the paperwork, if you need me," he added to the chief nurse of the secundary sickbay.

"Protective Custody - Pt. II"

by
Major Wes Hammond

&
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi

****

Federation Section,
Breen Command Ship Gravnor

"This ship's not going to survive this fight," Wes said, pointing to a place along the wall where the deck plating was starting to rattle loose, "My guess is that we've got about twenty minutes to affect a rescue and get off the ship before it's destroyed. And that estimate depends on the Breen commander not doing something stupid."

Jasmine nodded, "I wouldn't trust Breen construction as far as I can throw it. So, how would you recommend we find the others?"

Looking around the outside of the cell, Wes was disappointed to find no access terminals. Frowning, he said, "We need to find a computer database uplink. I took four years of Breen Linguistics at SFA, and I think I remember enough of it to find us the route to the others and then off the ship."

"I think there was one where I exited the vents. It was over this way," she gestured in the appropriate direction and led the way towards where she had come out of the vent.

Wes followed Jazz from the room, wondering at the convenience of the whole situation. The battle was a perfect excuse for the 'Federation Spies' to be removed from the bridge. Somehow he doubted that Captain M'Kantu and Commander Brex were doing the same thing. It seemed likely that the Federation would be more willing to allow the Breen to watch, which was stupid in Wes' opinion. Then again, more foolish things had been done in the name of diplomacy.

The two Starfleet officers entered the small room, and sure enough there was a terminal on the wall just below the vent. A smattering of dust on the terminal was the only indication of her prior passing. Jasmine stepped aside to allow Wes to access the terminal while she kept an eye on the corridor. For all it's evident damage and indication of failing structural stability, there were no Breen officers or crewmen walking (or running) through the corridors. It was highly suspicious - both that they had been locked up and that no one was in the halls. To quote one of her Starfire lines - she had a 'bad' feeling about this.

As they entered the room with the terminal, Wes hurried over to the terminal. Time was limited he knew, and it had been a good eight years since he'd last looked at the written Breen language, with the exception of a few times during the Dominion War, when Starfleet had been scrambling to get a good analysis of Breen tech. In those days, knowledgeable linguists were in short supply.

It took a few long minutes for Wes to familiarize himself with the system and break past the passwords. At one point he mistook the word security for deck plan, the characters being similar, and nearly set of the security alarm before he realized what he was doing. Looking up, he suddenly frowned.

"Jazz, the ship's not shaking anymore."

Jasmine didn't even respond to his comment about the shaking, "And we're not alone anymore..." The Betazoid stepped backwards into the room, urged by a pair of weapon toting Breen.

"Follow. Compliance is required." One of the Breen gestured towards the doorway. When neither officer moved, it continued, "Compliance or the others will be punished."

*Ever get the feeling we're screwed?* Jazz mentally told Wes as she allowed herself to be ushered out of the room.

~We're never screwed. Even odds that these guys aren't on our side anymore,~ Wes thought, holding perfectly still, ~Something in their tone of voice. Before it was merely defensive. These Breen are more... offensive. We need to escape.~

Without telegraphing her move beyond a brief mental flash of 'agreed' to Wes, Jasmine rammed the heel of her hand under the Breen's breathing mask to hit the slimy flesh hidden by the device. The other hand swept the weapon away from her to point harmlessly at the wall. A reflexive movement caused the weapon to fire at the wall, and a good chunk of that wall disappeared in a haze of fire and smoke.

"Didn't your mother tell you not to play with weapons?" Jasmine asked the Breen she was confronting rhetorically. The Breen couldn't respond since it's breathing mask was dislodged by her movements. A haze appeared around the alien's head as it's atmosphere leaked out into the room.

Waiting a split second after Jazz leapt into action, Wes watched the trooper in front of him for an opening. Luck was on his side, it seemed, as the trooper hesitated, then turn to open fire on Jasmine. Using the soldier's indecision against him, Wes pushed the barrel of his foe's rifle down, just before the Breen squeezed the trigger. The end result was the trooper burning his own foot away.

Stunned, the Breen allowed the weapon to drop from it's hands, and was rewarded by a shoulder check to the torso, knocking it away from it's weapon and onto the ground. Before the Breen could scramble to it's feet, Wes had the weapon in his hands, and after a well placed shot, the room fell silent again.

"Tactical Shuttle Bay, this way," Wes said, motioning with the now twitching Breen's rifle for her to follow him as he dashed out the door. He checked to make sure the way was clear, then began moving toward the Breen section of the ship, "We'll need some form of environmental protection."

"Somehow I doubt they carry Fed standard enviro suits," Jasmine replied as they headed down the corridor, "But, there should be something near the boundary between our 'sections.' If not within the Breen section."

"Let's hope so," Wes nodded, looking around at the writing on the walls, pausing occasionally to puzzle over a character that he had long since forgotten. He'd have to brush up.

A massive explosion suddenly rocked the vessel just before the two fighter pilots reached the boundary between the 'Breen' and 'Federation' sections of the starship. With a massive groan that sounded more like a dozen cats yowling in concert, sections of the Breen starship vented into space. For a brief tantalizing moment, Jasmine swore she saw a fireball heading their way before the tell-tale hum of a transporter beam pulled them away from the wreckage of the starship.

Heloi weaved slightly when they appeared on the Galaxy's transporter platform. They were safe...but for how long?

Looking over at Jasmine, Wes breathed a sigh of relief. The destruction of the Gravnor had been unexpected and sudden. It looked like the Breen, or their enemies, were taking no prisoners today. While they might be out of the fire for the moment, Wes and Jazz both knew that the day was far from over.

Eshe, Dhanishta
Lieutenant Jg
Engineer

Back Post

“Reflection, Part One of Two.”

Rattle….scrape….rattle….scrape……shssssss-phusst…

The flame sparked into existence.

At its tip the match glowed red from underneath the black charred wood. The flame yellow and strong, a blue hue at its base, illuminated the room with an orange glow, making the shadows dance across the walls.

Tip to wick.

The two flames joined and doubled in size. The increasing light flowed over the surrounding objects. A beautifully crafted crystal pestle glittered in the flickering light making little rainbows appear at its edges. Inside the crystal mortar a brown powder became a thick sludge as water slowly trickled in from a metal jug.

Carefully Dhani picked up the bowl and began to grind the mixture adding more water until the mixture began to flow. Setting it down she took a deep breath and looked up into the huge mirror that lined the wall of her quarters.

“Time to begin” she told the mirror image of herself.

Picking up a bunch of incense she lit it from the candle before her, and watched as the flames took hold. She had taken the security detectors off in her quarters and had locked her door. Being an adapt engineer was useful when you didn’t want to be disturbed, it was no ordinary locking mechanism!

Slowly she brought the incense before her and gently blew out the flames. The perfumed smoke coiled upwards, like water spiralling down a plug hole, yet upside down. Holding out the incense she turned clockwise three times drawing her outstretched arm towards her so that the smoke encapsulated her. Kneeling down she put the incense on a metal tray before her and watched the smoke screen rise.

Cautiously she picked up the crystal mortar, a voice far in the back of her mind was telling her that it was wrong, that this wasn’t the way. But unsure of whose voice it was she continued. The mixture smelled foul, it looked disgusting, and it tasted just as bad. With the mortar empty she closed her eyes and breathed, slowly and deeply until all her surroundings gradually faded away.

The dancing shadows jumped about as if they were some tribal folk setting the beat, faster and faster crescendoing till all at once they stopped, the flame halting as if all the air had been taken out of the room. And then it grew double in size and the smoke screen cleared.

The air felt heavy, muggy and humid. She could smell her breath, sickly sweet, feel it on her face. Opening her eyes she looked before her…….and into her own eyes!

For a few moments there was confusion, ‘Did it work?’ Dhani asked herself.

The image before her shifted, transforming in the limited candle light. Dhani leaned in closer for a better look. As she frowned the image smiled back, revelling brown rotting teeth. Dhani shot backwards.

“Don’t you like what you see?” Naut asked standing up.

Dhani shook her head speechless. Fumbling for her feet she too stood up and took several steps backward her mind racing.

“What? Now that I’m here you have nothing to say to me?” Naut asked. Her tone was aggressive as she took several steps towards Dhani, watching as she squirmed under her glare. Dhani remained silent, no doubt composing herself. Naut turned away, her anger building,

“I know what you want, Dhanishta” she said spitting out her own name like it was filth, “You want rid of me. You want to forget all about me. What I went through. What they did to me.” She accused.

“NO!” Dhani almost shouted, surprised at the amount of conviction in her own voice. Didn’t she want to get rid of her? Wasn’t that the point of all this?

“What I want, Naut, is my life back.” She whined.

Naut grunted in disgust shaking her head as she did so. “YOUR life?!” The request seemed ridicules to her. “What about my life? The life they took from me. Did you ever think about that?”

“But that never happened.” Dhani replied. Hearing herself argue that case was as far beyond hypocrisy as she could get.

Naut snorted in disbelief, “It DID happen.” She shouted.

Dhani was shocked into silence, not by Naut but by herself. Slowly she crumbled to the ground. She knew what had happened, what Naut had gone through. Hell, she was there. She had been telling everyone that their nightmares were real, that all they had seen and experienced actually transpired. And now here she was trying to rid herself of it all. Arguing with herself that it never happed. She looked up at Naut and then back down at the floor.

The silence was just as poignant as any words could be at this juncture. Dhani continued to stare at the floor. She thought that by removing Naut from herself that she would be able to think clearly, as one person. But it wasn’t as easy as all that. Her eyes scanned the floor back and forth as her mind tried to make sense of what she had done. It was like something was missing, a voice that had been so loud and dominant had just disappeared and without it the rest, elapsed into chaos, none of them listening to the other, nor letting the other finish. Dhani was confused to say the least, not sure of which direction to take, she continued to ‘read’ the floor.

“How ‘DARE’ you?” Naut hissed from across the room. Dhanis silence was irritating her. It was bad enough that Dhani couldn’t even be honest with her, lying until the end. But now she acted like the victim, this was beyond a joke!

“What?” Dhani asked quietly, “How dare ‘I’?” she questioned, her brow furrowing.

“Yes.” Replied Naut, “How dare you do this to me? Bring me here, lie to me. After all I have gone through?”

Dhnais eyes flickered. She stood up with a new strength. Strength fuelled by anger.

“How dare ‘I’ do this to you? After all ‘YOU’ have gone through?” her eyes narrowed, “And ‘I’ lie to ‘you’?”

Naut, unfazed by Dhanis new stance replied,

“Yes. You know what I have been through, a part of you still remembers. And now here you stand lying to me. To ME!” her voice rose, “You brought me here for one reason only Dhani, and I’m not stupid. Or are you really going to try and make me believe it was for tea and cakes?”

Dhanis head tilted to one side as she listened to this, her lips pursed as she waited for her turn to speak.

“How dare I?......HOW DARE YOU?” she erupted.

“You stand there a statue of goodness and virtue, the martyr, the victim! You have the nerve to tell me off for lying to you. Well what about you? You lied to Turan for 27 years, you never loved him. You think that I owe you? I still see them Naut, everyone, as you found them. I watch everyone on this ship walk around….DEAD! Rotting corpses that ‘I’ have to look at every day. You think that what you went through was unfair well what about what you’re putting me through? Did you ever stop to think about me? You think that I want rid of you, well by the God’s you are right, I want my life back. And YES Naut it’s MY life!”

It was Nauts turn to be taken aback. She had always been the dominant voice, trying so hard not to be left behind, trying not to be forgotten. And somehow she was losing this battle. “I hate you.” Was her mumbled come back knowing the wind was now backing someone else’s sails.

“You hate everyone and everything Naut. You are a bitter and twisted old hag!” Dhani returned.

“Do you blame me?” Naut asked changing her tactics. If only Dhnai could see that she really was the victim here then maybe she wouldn’t get rid of her.

“Yes!” Dhani shouted before she really had time to think about the question. “Yes I do…” She searched herself again asking Naut’s question over and over. She was just as shocked as Naut was when she revealed her answer.

“I do blame you,” she started again, quieter, “you had a choice Naut. You let feelings cloud you. You let them overtake, no one forced you. Just like no one forced that rifle into your hands, and no one forced you to pull the trigger. It was you. You and you alone tried to kill….” She broke off. It was difficult to believe that the old woman standing before her was herself. The things that Naut did, in some way Dhani had already done. “Suder was on that away team. So was McDowell.” She said quietly looking at Naut. She waited, watching her reaction.

Naut shook her head, “No,” she said, “your lying!”

Naut couldn’t believe that Dhani was painting her to be the bad guy. ~ I’m not! ~ she thought, ~ I’m not the bad guy here, they were. Starfleet, they did this they were the bad ones~

“Does it really make a difference who they were?” Dhani asked, “At the end of the day they were all someone’s friends. Someone’s family, brother, sister, son or daughter.”

“Your lying!” Naut protested.

“Check your memory Naut. Or are you that senile?” Dhani retorted sarcastically.

“No!” Naut didn’t want it to be true. She couldn’t believe that this was happening, why couldn’t Dhani understand? She wasn’t the monster.

“Turan…” Naut started, hoping to find some common hatred ground. Surely Dhani couldn’t blame her for that, after what he did?

Dhani cut in, “Turan shot you out of love. He didn’t want you to do something that you would regret for the rest of your life. He truly loved you, and in return you beat him!”

Naut was silenced. This was unbelievable, how could she have got things so wrong? The guilt and anger burned inside, till she lost all sense,

“FINE!” she shouted, “FINE you want me gone? I’m so bad, I’m the bad guy? FINE!” She flew into a whirl of rage smashing things with her fist. The few ornamental items that lined Dhanis desk became dust within a matter of seconds. Dhani stood back watching Naut throw her tantrum.

Naut grabbed the crystal mortar next and smashed it. Brown liquid droplets sprayed her face as the bowl broke into shards. Grabbing a large one she held it up,

“You want me gone? YOU WANT ME GONE?” she was hysterical her eyes wide, her hands shaking.

Dhani just stared, shock routing her to the spot.

“FINE.” Naut shouted.

"Coping...NOT!!!"

by
Commander Rayna Lamar O'Grady
ACS/TO
USS Miranda

Security Office, Rayna's.......

Rayna was at her desk, her head laying on her hand, elbow resting on the desk. A cup of coffee sat right next to her. She hadn't been sleeping and coffee seemed to just not keep her awake anymore. She had no energy to do anything. With the Chief indisposed, Rayna was in charge of Security.

With everything that went on, she had been running ragged, upping security and trying to be prepared for anything. Her heart just wasn't in it anymore but she had to keep up appearances. She had only sat down for a moment, when she had fallen asleep. One of the security officers walked in on her, "Commander?" He waked over to her when she didn't answer. "Commander?" He got louder, "Commander O'Grady!"

Rayna was startled, hitting the coffee. It went all over the desk, all over her and all over the floor. She jumped up very quickly, "Damn it! Have you ever heard of knocking?"

The officer looked at her and was very annoyed, "I did. I got worried when you didn't answer."

"Well, you are here now and as you can see, I am fine. What is it you want?" She rubbed her forehead.

"I just wanted you to know that I finished the project you asked me to do."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about it. Very good. Carry on." Rayna went to the replicator and got her another cup of black coffee. Lots of sugar went into the coffee cup. The officer watched her and shook his head, "I know I am going to be sorry for saying this but everyone is talking about you."

She shrugged, "It wouldn't be the first time you know." She carefully sipped her coffee.

"Maybe but I think you should know what they are saying. You're not sleeping or eating like you should be and your temper is short these days. No one wants to be around you anymore. Not only your temper but your lack of concentration is becoming a big concern."

"I see." Rayna had two ways of reacting, one...she could get angry or two...she could admit he's right and feed him some BS." She chose the latter, "I understand and I apologize for it. From now on, the department will have my fullest attention. If there is nothing else, you may go. I have a report to finish then I will go out there and do my duty."

He studied her for a moment. In conclusion, he knew she was just saying what he wanted to hear. He left, wondering if things for her would ever get better. As for Rayna, she sat back down...feeling unmotivated.

"Nothing to do but watch!"

Lieutenant (JG) Ariss Edon
Security/Tactical Officer

Lieutenant (JG) Jonathan Diaz
Operations Officer

Ensign Stel Jonran
Security/Tactical Officer

Petty Officer Mike O’Neill
Engineer

USS Miranda
Tertiary Bridge
Deck 34

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

Coughing, Ariss blinked furiously as the smoke got in his eyes. Kneeling between Taalis and the Ops Chief, he tapped their comm badges. “Computer,” he coughed out, “Emergency, two to beam directly to sickbay.” Stepping back, he didn’t watch as the two were beamed to sickbay, rather he turned his attention to the Ops console that was smouldering merrily away to itself. The faint glow surrounding it indicated the fire suppression system was online, and containing the fire. “Computer increase ventilation fifty percent.” Turning, “O’Neill, can you fix this, or reroute it? Your call.” He said to the Petty officer. “Stel, we need someone at Ops, call whoever’s on the duty roster here now!”

Horrified, Ariss realised that technically he was now senior officer on the Tertiary bridge, should the ship go MVAM… “Wraiths!!!” Shaking his head to clear ‘that’ thought, he tapped his comm badge, “Computer. Advise duty Ops Manager that Commander Jaxom has been injured, she is alive but has been transported to sickbay. Tertiary bridge has no senior officer present at this time.” Not expecting an answer, he closed the channel and looked around. ‘Oh Bugger!’ he muttered to himself.

As if in answer to his worries, the turbolift doors flew open, and a tall man in a gold hued uniform emerged, moving with purpose towards the Operations station, where he slid into the seat. He began to work the panel with skill, his fingers a blur over the controls. Soon, apparently at his command, the ventilation returned to normal, and the officers in the Tertiary Bridge were able to breath more easily. With the smoke clearing, it became apparent that several consoles were offline.

It was now, for the first time, that the Operations Officer turned to face the others. "I presume you are the Commanding Officer?" he asked Ariss, with a slightly cocked eyebrow; if it wasn't for his oh-so-human eyes, he could've been a Vulcan.

“For now… yes.” Ariss acknowledged. “Lieutenant Ariss.” He introduced himself to the stranger.

Stel had been about to tap his commbadge and call for assistance... instead he lowered his hand back down the console in surprise, staring at the human that entered. -Odd fellow- he thought to himself. A Small pop in on the console where Stel's tail was helping his hands as an extra finger on the console. The shock sent the tail back writhing and flick itself as if it was an arm and hand being flicked in pain after a similar injury. A monkey-like yelp came from Stel's mouth.

“You okay Stel?” Ariss enquired.

"I'm fine....Shocked my Bleedin’ Tail." He raised it to his mouth and sucked on it like one would with a hurt finger.

“Good. Then check the Tactical station status please. If it’s got a fault I'd rather not find out when we’re actually going to need it.” Turning to the Tactical display on the secondary screen, he watched the screen as the battle outside continued. ~ I have absolutely ‘No’ idea what to do if I have to actually command this ship ~ he thought to himself. ~ I fly shuttles, fighters, small stuff! Maybe command and tactical lessons would be a good idea! ~

Stel checked tactical again. No change in the current situation. The Gunboss at tactical on the Main Bridge doing her work, obviously having experience with these beasts before. Having a moment, he kept a stray eye on the obviously stressed highest ranking officer in the area. - Edon, are you so sure you're ready for this? I don't think I know you as well as I should, but I believe that you think you're not in a good situation. - Paused his thoughts and all. -You bastard, you'd better pull yourself together! You're starting to pull me into your problem!-

Mike sprang up from the Engineering station at the aft end of the tertiary bridge. Snatching up his tricorder, he snapped the device open as he came forward to the Ops position. Scanning the offending panel, he eyed the officer now occupying the seat. "Sir, I need you to move aft to the Science II station. I'll reroute Ops to that position, but I need you to move now." he insisted. "All we need is for the EPS to surge one more time and you're fish food. I can fix it, but I need to take this position offline."

"Right," agreed Diaz, rising from his seat and crossing to the Science Station. "Internal Sensors have taking a beating, but I'm going to try and patch us into the bridge video log." His fingers danced over the controls, and the smile on his face grew gradually larger. "I've got it!" he said eventually, turning to face his crewmates. "On screen, Lieutenant?"

Ariss nodded, and Diaz thumbed another panel, bringing up an image on the viewscreen. In the foreground, Commander Jaxom and Lieutenant Faraday were frantically manipulating their consoles, in response to Commander Brex's unspoken orders. Commander Arel stood behind the wooden rail, mouthing something. "I'll try and get audio." Diaz promised, before turning back to his console and punching in commands.

Taking a deep breath, Ariss looked at the command chair. Somehow it didn’t feel right to sit there. Stepping up to Tactical, he joined Stel there instead. “You okay Stel?” he enquired.

"Aye Leftenant. Just admiring our Chief's work." Stel really had nothing but wait until he actually had to use his console. "I suppose that if we Multi Vector, I'll try to copy the chief's attacks. I don't know the T'Kith'Kin and don't understand why she's only using short bursts like this, but it appears to be working..." Stel trailed off, almost entertained by the action on the console.

“If we have to MVAM, I'd hazard a guess and say that Commander Brex’ll direct us from the main bridge, or get someone down here. I do seem to remember Commander Jaxom mentioning something about their shields and the way they’re built. That’s why they’re using short bursts.”

"I have audio!" shouted Diaz, drawing the gazes of all save Stel to the viewscreen. "Here."

Suddenly, the Video Log came to life. The sounds of a frantic bridge filled the ears of the officers, and they watched as the battle unfolded.

Stood by the tactical station, Ariss watched as the T`Kith`Kin and Hydran ships were dispatched or driven off, then, as the Breen message arrived could only stand, mute, horror growing as the Breen laid down it’s demands.

…

[I will do what is necessary for my people to survive. Now, not a moment to waste. To prove my point, I shall terminate one of the hostages.]

[No, wait!]

But Gor didn't wait. The very identifiable whine of a disruptor blast echoed over the subspace wave, the shriek that followed barely lasting a moment. It sounded very humanoid, indeed.

…

“Dear Prophets!” Ariss breathed. ~ The Captain, ‘Commander Smith!’ ~ He thought, “Frell! Shinta’s down there!” He exclaimed more to himself. Looking around the bridge, he realised right now there was absolutely nothing he could do. ~ Sometimes the hardest thing you have to do, is wait! ~ He recalled, something his Tactics professor at the Academy had once said.

Watching as the drama on bridge continued to unfold, he stepped down to the command chair, and sat. Looking at the main screen he silently said a prayer for those down on the planet. “Haejmin cas’c!tai!” He cursed. ~ I ‘Hate’ the Breen! ~ He decided.

"Plan B"

Principal Characters
Lt. Commander Arel Smith
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Cpt. Elaithin Jii

****

Planet Breen
Diplomatic Reception Area

She managed to push Kylar Curran out of the way of the first phaser blast.

That alone gave her some amount of satisfaction, and at the same time dissapointment at her automatic reflexes, since the pthak had been one of the loudest to argue against her coming on to the planet. She returned fire and then ducked, rolled, and came at the one closest to her with her knife in hand.

Victor glanced at the others as they opened fire, debated deploying his own illicit phaser - and decided against it. The Breen were using stun settings, and that meant they wanted everyone alive. The diplomatic party wasn't going to win this fight, but they had to make it look good. That meant he had to appear less dangerous than he was, so they wouldn't understand until it was too late.

He waited until the Breen started to beam in before he moved a step, grasping one of the smaller aliens as he appeared and spinning him around, his hand clamped around the Breen's weapon-hand, forcing the weapon to continue firing as he swept the rear portions of the room, targeting the Breen's companions. Killing them would have been easier - but pointless. He had sheep to guard, and this was just the opening skirmish.

Arel, on the other hand, was unabashedly going for anyone who stood in her way. She slashed at the next Breen officer, then ducked as the phaser fire swept around the room from Krieghoff and his opponent, and then went after her third.

She knew that it was pointless, that they would be outnumbered, but she had to try anyway. She called to the Captain for orders.

"Plan B!" was all that Jii replied. It had been covered earlier, immediately for the assault, and called for action directly from Smith and Kreighoff themselves.

They were fighting a losing battle, and they were fighting it on thier terms. It was not a prospect Jii enyoyed - battle never went well when the opponent picked the field.

The key was to turn it around - make them dance to his tune.

Arel frowned even as she fought. She wasn't really fond of this plan but an order was an order.

Unfortuneatly, at that moment a thick meaty arm from a sneaky Breen bastard that had slipped in behind her wrapped itself around her neck. Something cold and metal pressed to her head. "Stop immediately or we'll kill the woman."

The thought that all this would prove James Mitchell right made Arel want to grind her teeth.

The combat halted for a moment as the Breen's mechanical voice penetrated to all corners of the room and Arel's position was complicated by the arrival of another Breen soldier that stripped her phaser from her and covered her from a different angle. "Drop your weapons," the first Breen snapped out mechanically.

"Not likely." the Captain called out in response. "We've got you surrounded. Drop your weapons, and we'll let your men go."

The Breen produced a mechanical sound that sounded vaguely akin to l aughter. "I am not a fool, Captain. Do not speak to me as such."

"It was worht a shot." the Bajoran gamefully replied. "I'd be careful, though. The woman you're so casually holding was raised by Klingons. If you're not careful, she's like as not to rip your head off."

As if to proove his point, Arel looked over at one of the aliens covering her and smiled. It was sweet and pleasent, what would have made anyone onboard Miranda immediately back off. But the Breen didn't know her very well; they remained unimpressed.

Victor frowned. He'd lost one sheep under his care in the last months, and even if Smith's teeth were too sharp for a sheep's, she was still his until this mission was over. He wrenched the Breen's wrist as he released the now-empty phaser and was rewarded by a sudden 'pop' as the seals gave way, taking the soldier out of the room in a burst of transporter energy as the alien activated some sort of automated recall.

The Breen weren't killing anyone today, but Victor was.

"Don't interfere, Wikkins," he ordered the junior officer, and then spread his hands wide and took a single step forward through a plume of smoke from a burning chair - and something else emerged on the other side, something that merely wore Victor like a mask. Almost palpable waves of presence pushed out from him, hammering at the other members of the diplomatic party, cutting at their self-control as the waves pushed them to run, to flee, to be somewhere else besides trapped in the same room with Death.

"Remain motionless, human," the Breen returned. "Be still or she and the young one she bears die."

If Krieghoff didn't kill the Breen, Arel decided right then and there, she'd certainly hand his intestines on a platter to him. And then make him eat them.

"Kill her then," Victor said in a voice that was colder than even the atmosphere outside the climate-controlled quarters, the frozen whispers of damned soul's last cries falling away from the words. He took another step forward, the soft footfall seemingly heavier than it had a right to be when it resounded through the floor. "She's not my woman. It's not my child. Kill her. Kill it."

Arel merely raised an eyebrow.

The Bajoran Captian felt his blood grow cold at the sound of the Security Officer's voice. At once, he was stuck be the realization that it really made no difference to Kreighoff. The Breen would be dead either way, the questions was whether or not Arel would join him.

Kreighoff was following the plan... Jii just hadn't thought he'd be that good of an actor.

But then, maybe he wasn't.

Victor's smile widened, becoming something that made several members of the breathless diplomatic party flinch away as he took another step forward and then another, the footfalls still seemingly heavier than they could possibly be. "Kill her," he repeated once more.

Arel's face was now expressionless as she held Krieghoff's eye. Behind her she could almost feel the consternation of the Breen man. Krieghoff was acting totally contradictory to humanoid nature, she imagined the Breen was thinking. She wanted to laugh at his confusion. But now was not the time.

Hang on to your hats, folks, Arel thought grimly and then quickly jerked her head to the right.

The Breen, confused, jerked its hand to keep the phaser pressed toArel's temple - and then froze as Victor's hand closed over it.

"The sheep are mine," Death whispered through Victor's lips. "Not yours. No one dies unless I say so." Death smiled with his face to the uncomprehending Breen, and added, "Time to die."

The sudden whine of the Breen's phaser as it triggered under the pressure of Victor's grip crackled like lightning in the suddenly-quiet room. The Breen's head snapped back, faceplate shattered under the impact of the beam, and fell away from Arel.

Without releasing the dead Breen's hand, Victor fired again, killing the second Breen covering Arel, and then turned, Death smiling in welcome with his face to confront the other Breen.

Arel didn't have the time to thank Krieghoff... or whatever was in his place. She nodded quickly to the Captain and then sprinted out of the room, drawing two of the guards to follow her. She'd have to thank the security officer later. And then possibly give him a sound thrashing for threatening her life and Korvins.

Victor paid no attention to Arel's departure, as the remaining Breen began to fire at him. With a jerk, he pulled the Breen whose hand he held up as a shield, absorbing two blasts that way before the body had boiled away enough through the shattered faceplate to become useless as a shield.

In that time he'd taken the steps necessary to close on another of the slighter aliens and grasped it, whirling it around as a new shield in time to absorb a third hit. Victor stripped the phaser from the Breen's hand and tried to fire it, and was rewarded by a faint "wheep' as some safety device sensed the lack of a Breen hand, engaged and locked the weapon out.

Victor ducked, spun the Breen in his grasp into two more to foul their shots, and then dove behind one of the tables to avoid the increasingly heavy return fire as more and more Breen beamed in. He rolled past it, threw the Breen phaser sidearm with enough force to crack another Breen's faceplate as he emerged on the other side, the alien beaming out automatically, and then raised his hands and stopped, motionless.

Several of the Breen closed to restrain him warily, phasers at the ready. As they came within arm's reach, Victor turned his head, once more merely Victor, and nodded once to Jii, swept his eyes over the rest of the diplomatic party for a moment to nod again at Dallas and a few others... and then turned back to the approaching Breen. He regarded them for a moment as they neared, head tilted to the side - and then Death slipped back into the room and looked through his eyes as the first Breen laid a hand on him.

Something that was no longer Victor smiled down at them.

The first Breen never realized what happened, he was beaming out before he had time to realize that his suit had ruptured. The second managed to raise his phaser, only to abort firing and start to struggle with Victor as his hand clamped down on the smaller alien's and sought to repeat his usurpation of the alien's weapon once more.

The third Breen, smarter than its companions stepped back and out of the way as Breen all over the room started to fire.

Beams struck the wall, the floor, the table net to Victor, and the Breen that he held, driving the pair back into the window that overlooked the frozen wasteland of the planetary surface outside. More beams landed, these set on higher settings than 'stun' from the scorch marks they left, and the damage they did to the window itself - damage that proved to be more than the pane of whatever material the Breen built with could stand as Victor and the remaining Breen slammed into it under the impact of a half-dozen hits and near-hits.

The window exploded outward, precipitating Victor and the Breen he held out into the frozen atmosphere in a rush of near-decompression strength air. Victor released the Breen as he dropped out of sight, hands clutching his chest, and the Breen vanished in a blaze of transporter energy as automated safety fields snapped into place and sealed the breach with a dimly glowing energy field.

After a few moment while both the away team and the Breen processed the shock of the past minute and a half, the Captain judged that it was time. Throwing his phaser to the floor, he raised his hands. "All right. We surrender."

“First Crisis Part One”

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineer

Lieutenant Ella Grey
Assistant Chief of Engineering

Civilian engineer wannabe,
Turan Trelar

Dhani jogged down the corridor to the turbo lift with Turan behind her fumbling through her tool kit.

“Deflector control.” She ordered before turning to look at Turan.

Turan took another gadget out of the tool box and tried to figure out what the tool was used for. Switched off, it was nothing more than a black box with a large display covered by a mesh metal lid. The tool kit was full of those things - no wrench, no screwdriver and no soldering iron.

The giant Quentite boy dropped the Gadget back into the tool box and suddenly realized he lost pace with the camouflaged engineer. Dhani disappeared inside the turbo lift with its doors closing.

Sticking out her hand the doors of the turbo lift opened letting Turan inside. Within a few seconds they were at deflector control.

Ella neatly avoided running straight into Turan but jabbed her right thigh on the side of a console instead. A thousand and one swear words sounded off in her head but she only grimaced and rubbed the sore spot. She pointed at the kid and then raised her eyebrows at Dhani in question.

Dhani looked back at Turan and then at Grey, how on earth she hadn’t heard of Turan was beyond her. After all there were very few people on the ship of Turans size and stature, but she quickly hurried an introduction,

“Turan Trelar, Lieutenant Ella Grey, assistant Chief of engineering.”

Turan raised his shoulders - the intergalactic gesture for I'm sorry but I don't know how to correctly beg your pardon. He showed the high ranked engineer the toolkit, pointed at himself and smiled. Then he hurried to follow Dhani.

Ella nodded in greeting and then turned abruptly to snap her fingers at someone, shake her head, and toss them another tool.

Although Grey was the assistant chief Dhani had not really spent much time with her, their shifts rarely coincided and she wasn’t sure how to interact with the mute. And with Turan as her shadow it was going to be an… interesting crisis.

Rolling up her sleeves she went to a console and began tapping away at it,

“Tricorder.” She stated with her eyes fixed on the console and holding out her hand like a doctor in an operating room.

Okay, first occasion to make a fool out of me. Turan searched the tool box for something that looked like a tricorder. He decided for the box with the mesh metal lid and presented it to his mentor.

"This one?" he asked

Dhani turned quickly to look at the object and shook her head. Grabbing the tool kit from him she riffled through it and picked out the tricorder. Holding it up for a minute for him to see she opened it up and began to scan the unit before her.

“Grey,” she called out.

Ella came over from where she was working on her console.

“I am proceeding to enhance the shields.” Dhani informed her superior officer.

Ella nodded and then gave a thumbs up.

Pulling a panel off the wall Dhani grabbed the remodulator and began the procedure.

“Turan, I have a few questions for you.” She said from within the wall.

“You told me that you want to be an engineer, and that you have studied Star Ship design.” She paused, waiting for him to confirm.

"I actually started studying when the Galaxy visited Quentin. Probably Starfleet didn't want Quentites on board who understand to much of what they see."

“Did you actually study anything regarding Starfleet engineering?” she asked trying not to make the question sound like an accusation.

"Sure I did study the Galaxy." Answered Turan,

"I had plenty of time to do so. I had a look at almost anything they allowed me to see. They didn't let me have a look at the engine yet. I have scribbles of all that in my quarters. I used them to design some of the room for a deep space travelling Quentite vessel. Maybe, you want to have a look at the drawings as soon this is over?" The oversized boy paused. Was it a good idea to tell her about? "Oh yes ... and after I was stuck in the turbolift. I managed to escape through the tube maze behind that wall. There was nothing else to do, so I started mapping it."

Dhani crawled out from the wall and turned back to the console. Her fingers danced over the controls quickly and precisely. Grabbing the tricorder again she ran several tests.

“So,” she said, over the beeping of her tricorder, “if you have studied Starship design and engineering,” she glanced down at the readouts, “open up that tool kit and pass me a sonic screwdriver.” She glanced up at his blank face before turning and walking over to where Grey was.

Screwdriver sounded much easier to find. From his last triage through the tool kit, Turan, the keeper of the toolkit knew there wasn't any object that looked like an old fashion Quentite screwdriver. Something contained in the kit was expected to serve in the same manner, but in a much more high-tech way - by noise. 'Form follows function' thought Turan and choose the only tool he thought would be able to turn a screw. Admitted, it looked more like an in-ear thermometer, but unless you star ship isn't a living organism, the chance to find one in the depths of an engineering toolkit is very low.

Turan handed the screwdriver over to his new boss.

“Lieutenant,” Dhani said getting Grey’s attention, “here are the results from the enhancements.” She handed over her tricorder for Grey to read and accept or decline.

Ella skimmed the results. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing and especially good considering it was during a fight.

Glancing up at her new student Dhani smiled slightly and pointed to the panel she had left propped up next to the wall cavity that she had been working in.

Turan nodded. The main surgery was done. The work she left for him was to plug the panel’s power and data bus connectors back into their socket a rather easy task as any of the plug had his own special shape. The last connector he rejoined made the large display come back to life. A small step for a well educated Starfleet engineer, but a giant step for an alien engineer trainee on his first day.

The display showed a LCARS schematics of the Galaxy's surrounded by an oval ring representing the shield's remaining strength. Several of the ring's sectors were already rather thin. Especially the right part, representing the vessel's rear shields had almost vanished. Nevertheless, the values next to the segments increased with every second.

Carefully, Turan inserted the panel into its wall mount frame.

“Orders?” Dhani asked turning back to her commanding officer.

Ella frowned as she read her console and then typed out a quick message to Dhani. *THERE'S A PLASMA RELAY UNIT THAT'S LEAKING. I'M GOING TO GO FIX IT. MAKE SURE THEY ALL* and here she waved her arm in a sweeping arm gesture *STAY ON TASK.*

Dhani took the PADD from Grey and began to read it. The ship rocked slightly, placing her hand on a near by desk to steady herself she sighed slightly as she lost her place. Scanning the page again till she found it she continued to read. Handing the PADD back to Grey she nodded. Her orders were a bit vague but then Dhani good at using her initiative. She watched as Grey strolled out, knocking into the door frame as the ship rocked.

The tall Quentite stared at the panel with wide opened eyes. The rear shield segment was gone completely. You don't need to attend Starfleet academy to figure out what it meant. With the aft shields down, the giant vessel's engine and warp nacelles were an easy target. Every additional hit over there could cause severe damage to the propulsion and even force the crew to surrender and give up the ship.

Turan cleared his throat. Till now, nobody had found the time to tell him how to address the Trill officer, whose toolkit he was carrying. "Excuse me?" asked the Quentite boy with a nervous undertone in his voice. "Could you please have a look at this?"

Dhani turned to Turan with raised, questioning eyebrows. Looking down at the panel her eyes widened. Pushing Turan to one side, as nicely as she could given the circumstances, her hands franticly flew over the console,

“Computer transfer auxiliary back up power to aft shields.” She shouted. But it was too late.

The ship groaned and squealed as if it were a living thing in pain. The deck shuddered beneath their feet as the ship suddenly jolted, violently arching to one side. The consoles around the Deflector control room overloaded, popping and spewing sparks. The shorted out panels darkened as all the life drained from them, all but the new life growing inside with a ferocious hunger.

Suddenly, the room was dim and calm. The only light that still illuminated the room came from the red emergency lights and the last working console.

Dhani tried to keep her footing through the shaking and continue her work to save the shields, but as the ship jolted she was thrust head first into the panel she was working on.

After a short period of furious blinking, the remaining lights decided to have a break. Turan touched the ground, searching for the toolbox. Somewhere in there, he remembered he had seen a torch.

With the lights out night fell on Deflector control. Only rolls of thunder and unsettling creaking sounds could be heard as debris rained down around them.

Turan coughed. The room around him filled with clouds of finest dust, slowly settling down on the floor.

He presented the torch "Here we are!" then switched it on. Its beam seemed to cut the dust like a sword's blade. Examining the room which with the last explosions changed into a chaos of dust and debris he finally found his mentor half covered by pieces of the console display and several large parts of debris.

Turan licked the back of his hand and held it close to the female officer's nose. A weak, cold breeze touched his hand's small hairs. At least, she was still br