“When The Sky Isn’t Right”

LOCATION: Trill Planetside

Saia scrunched her face as her mother wiped at it. She heard her mother sigh, “Saia, I said we were leaving in five minutes. You’ve still got white paint on your nose.”

Saia frowned, “I had to finish painting the cloud!”

She could hear her father laugh, “You’ve been working on that same cloud since after lunch.”

Saia walked to her father with a now clean face. She looked at the canvas beside him and shook her head, “It’s still not right!”

Her father bent down, “Maybe you need to leave it for awhile. I remember my grandpa would get blocked and he went for a walk. When he came back he was so excited that he figured out how to fix it, Grandma couldn’t sit him down for dinner.”

Her mother handed her a comb for her hair, “Besides, don’t you want to go to the museum tonight?”

Saia beamed, “Really!?”

Twenty minutes later they were walking up to the building. Saia had been studying the sky to see how to fix her cloud. Something about this sky didn’t seem right either.

Soon, they walking up the stairs. Her parents stayed in the front to talk to some friends they had run into. Saia ran further inside to her favorite part of the museum.

She heard screams and saw people running. She called out, “MAMMA!!! POPPA!!!” Before she could run find them, there was an explosion and everything went black.

"The New Vanguards"

Lieutenant Corran "Spots" Rex, Vanguard One/1 Flight Lead (Pat),
Pilot Cain Masterson, Vanguard Two, (General use NPC)
Pilot Sarel "Phoenix" Inara, Vanguard Three (Cami),
Flight Officer David "Starbuck" West, Vanguard Four (L),
Lieutenant Jasmine "Jazz" Heloi, Vanguard Five/2 Flight Lead (L),
Pilot Tyten, Vanguard Six (Matt),
Pilot Anna "Natural" Lewis, Vanguard Seven (Francis),
Pilot Arlen "Shocker" Willard, Vanguard Eight (Andrew),
Lieutenant "Fuzzball" Kettch, Vanguard Nine/Three Flight Lead (Pat),
Flight Officer Xiaz "Pad" Padma, Vanguard Ten (Kate),
Flight Officer "Angel" Angeleina, Vanguard Eleven (Robert),
Pilot Graan, Vanguard Twelve (Randy),
Pilot Nick "Dead Stick" Lofton, Vanguard Fourteen (General use NPC),
Pilot Voss "Prophet" Ferris, Vanguard Fifteen (General use NPC),
Pilot Niki "Pebbles", Vanguard Sixteen (Kelly - Kowe NPC)

Lieutenant Corran Rex entered the pilots briefing room, trying to calm his own panic. News that a Federation starship had crashed in Leran Manev, the capital of his homeworld, had left the Trill pilot increasingly distressed. To a people who valued their pasts as much as his, the idea of such wanton destruction - the loss of so much history, in his world's oldest city..It was a truly horrific thought.

He was pacing even as his pilots entered, paying no attention until they all arrived.

Jasmine was no less worried than Corran, though, admittedly, she was not as mentally 'vocal' as her "superior officer" was. That was definitely one thing that she was going to have to get used to in her new position.

She had been offered, and accepted, the Chief Science Officer position on the Galaxy. Only, when she was called upon to fly a fighter she would as Corran's XO. It was a strange world she lived in, she decided with a slight sigh, and put those thoughts aside as she focused on the present. The Betazoid moved to the front of the room and cleared her throat, "You know, Corran, we just had that carpet replaced. It's not going to do any good to run a new rut in it so quickly."

"Oh look," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "The deserter. Enjoying sciences?"

An observer would have found the statement venomous, but Jazz knew better than to take offense at the comment.

She smiled, though it seemed rather pained, "I know. And we're going to need to talk about it later. But for now, unless a scientific emergency comes up I'm all yours."

"Well, at least you're loyal." he commented, still trying not to let the morning's news get to him. It was hard to do, when one's home was suffering a tragedy. His bond with Rex had been fluctuating ever since he'd heard the news, and no small amount of effort - and a great deal of medication - had been necessary to keep 'Corran' together.. Rex had once been married to Maz, the former host of Lirisse Durghan. And Corran himself had known her - quite well, actually - when both had been initiates at the Symbiosis Commission. He couldn't help but wonder how she was faring - he knew how hard things had been on Lirisse ever since she'd given up her symbiont. He knew, too, the reasons why she'd done it, and had disagreed with the continued policy of secrecy regarding the suitability of hosts.

But that was a discussion for another day.

Jasmine kept the question she was thinking about asking quiet - at least until she and her "CO" were alone. Since her brush with the Other, she had found her telepathic sensitivity rating had increased. It was not an effort to recognize what he was feeling and she decided that it would be best to wait until there were no other pilots about to ask him how *he* was doing.

Pilot Arlen Willard entered. both nervous and excited. He was saddened by the disaster on Trill, but for some reason, his love of flying took precedent. This was his first major action since his assignment to the Vanguard. Since the academy, Arlen was known as "Shocker," because of his ability to pull off shocking stunts. His father Colonel Jonathon "Sun Dagger" Willard always scolded him for his theatrics, saying they "would probably get him killed," But Shocker always felt like a showman at heart. Just an arrogant, dumb, and skilled kid in the cockpit. He sat down in a chair in the briefing room, his feet up on a seat in front of him, and his arms folded behind his head, leaning back.

Lieutenant Kettch ambled in, the small teddy bear-like Kowe walking with ha usual casual stroll. Seeing that Jazz was already checking in on Corran, "Fuzzball", as he was called, took a seat in one of the briefing room's chair's sized to him.

David "Starbuck" West entered the briefing room with his characteristic zeal. He liked making entrances, even if they were uncalled for. It was all part of the 'Starbuck' way. He nodded briefly at his CO and at the XO before he claimed a seat somewhere near the front. At least, that close, he could sprawl out a little and extend his legs in something approximating comfort.

Sarel "Phoenix" Inara entered the Vanguard's briefing room. When she'd first accepted the posting to Galaxy there were many surprises. The squadron Inara found herself assigned to had a great reputation. She considered it an honor to be a Vanguard pilot. Then there was the complete surprise of having a good friend and former Academy classmate, Cora Dobryn, happened to be the Chief Intelligence Officer on Galaxy. There really hadn't been time for Phoenix to do anything more than quickly settle in. Later she'd have to seek out Cora. She nodded to the other pilots and took a seat.

With a customary scowl on his face, Graan strode into Vanguard Squadron's briefing room. He had been in the middle of sampling a delightful Terran dish called "lemon meringue pie" when the new of what happened on Trill was broadcast throughout the ship. The first thing the Tellarite had done upon hearing the news was look to see for himself what had happened on Trill, and upon seeing the destruction of the Trill capitol he had already begun making his way to the briefing room, knowing that Vanguard would probably be needed soon.

He was pleased to see that he wasn't the first one to arrive, and after taking a moment to see who all had gathered in the briefing room so far, the Tellarite took a seat and folded his hands over his somewhat rotund stomach, inclining his head slightly so that his deep-set eyes could completely focus on Lieutenant Rex.

Anna Lewis entered the briefing room slowly, uncomfortably. Her stomach tossed and turned within her, and not just because of the sickening imagery unfolding on the planet that she knew their ship was rushing to. She was also nauseous for another reason. Her sister, Heather Lewis, had died at Havras serving as Vanguard Seven.

When Anna had heard, she'd set down her engineer's spanner and put in for a transfer to the fighters, even though she had no formal training.

Her innate ability in the cockpit had gotten her past the entrance exams, and earned her the nickname "Natural", but she still wasn't very sure of herself. As the Arizona moisture farmer leaned against the wall, she gritted her teeth and thought to herself. ~Well Anna, you asked for this.~

The Colorado born kid looked around, smiling. "A motley crew this bunch is. Ha Ha Ha!"

Graan glanced over at the exuberant human and grunted, shaking his head in annoyance.

Tyten simply sat in the room and watched as the other pilots filed in. He had lost his wingman to the Science department, of all places and like Rex, he wasn't very happy about the idea. Well, if he was being honest, it was only part-time. He did his best to not let her see his disappointment, but he wasn't entirely sure that he was successful in that endeavor. The two hadn't spoken much in recent weeks and now, it appeared, the rift was going to grow larger. This didn't fare well for the secret crush that he had been harboring for her since the day they had met.

He may have been a young dumb kid, but Arlen was perceptive. He noticed Tyten and decided to ask what's up.

"Hey Mr. Blue, you alright? You look like something's bugging you."

Tyten shrugged. "That transparent, huh? Long story, but the short of it basically boils down to a lack of wingman time," he said keeping his voice low, hoping that Jasmine hadn't heard him.

Entering the room, Niki blinked her big brown eyes and moved over to one of the chairs. Pulling herself up onto it, she stayed at the back. Taking a small pebble out of her pouch at her hip, she ran it across her fingers, unable to not fidget. She wasn't sure about her place since she was new.

Corran laughed to himself as he saw Kettch's jaw drop at the arrival of the female Kowe. The diminutive Lieutenant immediately ambled over to his CO's side. "Rex, you bastard! Who's the hottie?!" he whispered urgently in his squeaky little voice."

Corran raised an eyebrow. "Hottie? I thought you were cultured than that, Kettch."

"Shove it, bigfoot."

"Go and introduce yourself then." the Trill finished, trying hard not to break out into full on laughter.

Jasmine smiled briefly at Corran and headed back towards her customary place next to Tyten. She felt rather bad about basically snubbing him since the science department had become a bit like a black hole. When she sat down next to Tyten she placed her hand on his arm, "Hey, Tyten, after this, want to go for a drink? I want to apologize for snubbing you..."

Tyten shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was a grown man, yet often found himself wearing his emotions on his sleeve. "It's no big thing, Jasmine. I know you've been busy. Got more important things to do these days than hang out with a simple fighter jock," he smiled. "I'll take you up on the drink offer, though."

Her lips quirked slightly - her wingman was quite easy to read sometimes. "That's a load of balderdash and you know it. No matter what happens, I'll always have time for you." She gave his arm a comforting squeeze before she turned her attention to the front of the room.

Shocker merely chuckled at the events taking place near him. He took his feet off the back of the chair in front of him and leaned forward toward his new "Bossman," a title previously held by his academy instructor.

Okay add this where you think it fits: While Xiaz "Spitfire" Padma's saunter onto the flight deck was considerably less than usual, her athletic curves and "fuck with me, I dare you" attitude were hard to miss. So too was her anger and frustration at the situation. The Trill's big personality was muted but her mind was reeling and her physical form was prepared to react however necessary. Her body language spoke volumes. She could help but ask herself to same questions as any Trill -- any person, period, perhaps. How many had died? Symbionts. Hosts. Unjoined. The numbers had to be astronomical. And how had it happened? How had it happened? She wanted to bite someone. Act our irrationally (though, perhaps one had to be ration in the first place to act irrationally?) and eyed the fuzzy teddy bear character before thinking better of it. Though... he might be a fun experiment. A way to get her mind off things, perhaps? Especially since she wouldn't put it past Rex to be otherwise... engaged. Speaking of. Padma blinked up toward her exercise partner as he began to talk, and forced her mind onto the present.

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

"Allright folks, simmer down." Corran said, leaning against the table behind him even as Jasmine stood next to him. "You've all heard the news about Trill this morning. Galaxy's increased speed to maximum warp, but we're still a day out. I'm not sure what our goal will be when we get there, but I'm guessing we'll be doing aerial reconnaissance, looking for survivors, that sort of thing."

"Sir?" Graan ventured, raising a hand. "Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, starships that are peacefully orbiting a planet one second and then crashing into them without warning the next aren't exactly all that common."

"We don't." Corran replied, mouth drawn in a grim line. "We still don't even know why the Akula was even in this sector."

"That's a mighty bit strange, dont'cha think Boss? Where was she supposed to be?" Shocker added with a surprising amount of maturity compared to his previous demeanor....probably a spark of his father in him.

The irascible Tellarite harrumphed in agreement with Shocker. "Wherever she was supposed to be, if it wasn't even in this sector then that's one hell of a piloting error," Graan grumbled. He settled back in his seat, folded his hands over his midsection again and glanced around at the rest of the pilots, giving them a chance to speak.

"She was supposed to be in a different sector," Jasmine confirmed, speaking up from just behind Corran, "But until we know more - or even if it WAS the Akula - I'd prefer to keep our options open."

"Exactly." the Trill Lieutenant said. "So here's what we'll do. We're going to be crowd control, and search and rescue. We'll be keeping the air clear over the crash site. There is a possibility that I'll be needed at the capitol. In that situation, Lieutenant Heloi will be in command. So, with that in mind, everyone hit the simulators - "

That brought the expected groans.

"AND" he continued, raising his voice slightly. "Practice some atmospheric flying. You're dismissed. Get your ugly mugs out of hear."

((OOC: Yet another crossover post from yours truly :) - Laurel))

"Sweet Relief"

Commander Wes 'Phoenix' Hammond,
Rogue Group CO/Rogue Squadron CO,
USS Miranda

Lieutenant Jasmine 'Jazz' Heloi,
Chief Science Officer/Vanguard Squadron XO,
USS Galaxy

****

War Room,
Nassari Starlight Guard HQ,
Nasser

Wes Hammond has rapidly approaching the point of exhaustion. In the five hours since he and Grand Master Ardantan had reached their agreement regarding Captain Elaithin's use of Starfleet General Order 14, the two men had quickly and carefully established complete dominance over the skies of Nasser. The occasional sortie was still being fought out, but the resistance dwindled each time, and order was reestablished.

In doing so, they had lost 17 Nassari starfighter pilots, and one member or Aurora Squadron. Casualties were inevitable, both men knew, but it seemed to Wes that he'd found a like mind in Ardantan. Each report brought a pained nodded from the other man, the resignation of an officer who had learned to live with sending others to their deaths. His sense of duty impeccable, Ardantan had labored for long hours with Wes to return safety to his people, and to discharge his duty to his king.

Wes was now glancing over the plot, seemingly free, for the first time in a day and a half, of skirmishes between monarchical reactionaries, and democratic crown loyalists. He didn't smile, even though he and Ardantan had done thier jobs well, and with minimal loss of life. They were fighting Federation citizens, and neither of them wanted to be where their lives had lead them.

"Master Hammond?" Gannalorn, Ardantan's chief of staff drew his attention to a secluded console, across the room. "There's a transmission being routed to us from the Miranda. The operations manager says that it's from the USS Galaxy and for you."

That caught his attention. He'd been missing Jasmine ever since she'd left. For a self-proclaimed lifelong bachelor, she had certainly focused his attention in the short time they'd known each other. He replied instantly. "I'll take it."

Offering a nod of respect, he turned the board over to the four armed Grand Master Ardantan, and quickly crossed the room, heart pounding through the exhaustion. The chief of staff completed the link, then stepped back and gave the Starfleet officer space.

"Jasmine?"

"Wes," Jasmine replied with a relieved smile, "I heard you were in the thick of things. It's good to see you in one piece." She looked to be a bit worse for wear than the last time the two had seen each other, though her smile was the same as always. The time on the freighter - not to mention her insanity - had been telling upon the Betazoid. There were a few worry lines on her face that had never been there before.

What she had needed was to see a friendly face that was not on the Galaxy - someone who didn't look at her and see the woman who had lost her mind. Admittedly, she knew that was not true - only Tarin knew the truth and from her time in contact with the other woman's mind she knew she would hold that knowledge to herself. She was, however, quite glad to see Wes.

"Yeah. I'm pretty pleased to be in one piece myself. Ekrayn's fighter got clipped by small arms fire, and she has a shrapnel wound. I'm a little worried about her, but the doctors say she'll be okay. This whole martial law thing is pretty crazy," he said, taking a seat before the monitor. He needed to get off his feet, and surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces, this was just the distraction he needed.

As he took in her face, which he'd missed seeing since their leave after Havras, he was surprised to see that she was looking more than a little under the weather, though her usually radiant smile shone through. "Are you alright, Jasmine? You look like you've been through hell. I thought the Galaxy was just shuttling medical supplies to Trill?"

"It's been one hell of a mission, Wes. And we haven't even made it to Trill, yet. Though that's a whole different bucket of worms. Something...happened on the way to Trill that is still bothering me. We discovered a region of space that was basically warping the space-time continuum due to warp traffic. We went to rescue a freighter's crew that was stuck in the muck and things went south real fast after that. I...lost my shields, Wes. Among so many untrained, not to mention unrestrained people, I was overwhelmed."

"Ah, Jazz... I guess things never really go according to plan," Wes asked, now very much concerned for her. It was strange, thinking about what it must have been like. On a basic level, he understood. Losing shields meant suddenly having a mass of voices in your mind at once, which was an easy and horrifying concept. With telepathic things, though, he could never experience it, and thus never completely understand. "Are you okay now?"

"Getting there," Jasmine replied as truthfully as possible, "It's hard to bounce back when something like that happens. Though I have a few theories as to what caused the problem in the first place and how it can be prevented in the future. Apparently I was speaking in quite a few rhymes while I was...impaired."

She shook her head and offered him a brief smile, "I just know for my next leave I want to go home to Betazed and talk to some of my people there about this. Not to mention maybe dragging a certain Major with me, perhaps."

"In other - and not to mention better - news, I got a promotion on a couple of levels. Not only am I a Lieutenant in the Fighter group, I'm also a Starfleet Lieutenant. I've been assigned to double duty as Chief Science Officer and Vanguard XO. I'm still trying to work out the scheduling details with Corran, but it's going to be interesting to say the least." Just thinking about the logistics gave her a migraine.

"That's impressive. It sounds like you're going to a lot busier. And I'd be more than happy to go with you to Betazed, when we get a chance. But I guess you want to go whoever this 'Major' is..." he teased, a smile crossing his own face. She was safe now, and prospering, so the protective side of him was satisfied. "I've had a windfall of my own recently. I was just promoted to Commander, and they gave me two more squadrons to play with. Anton and Rena are commanding them, so I'm taking the opportunity to rebuild the Rogues."

"Wow, congratulations," Jasmine smiled brightly, "You definitely deserve it."

"You do too. A multi-talented lady such as yourself would be wasted as simply Corran's ex-oh," he grinned, "Speaking of which, how's the old rogue doing? I heard somewhere that he managed to develop some kind of serum for his condition."

"He has. I actually got rather used to his multiple personalities so now just dealing with one takes a bit getting used to. But, he's been doing well otherwise."

"That's great. Say hello to him for me," he paused, and could feel the tension in his back sinking into the chair. "Thank you for calling. I'll be honest. Right now, I haven't slept for a little over twenty-four hours, and the caffeine is just about the only thing keeping me going right now. They have me commanding the starfighter forces of an entire planet, and I'm working with a very diverse group of people, some of whom don't appreciate Starfleet too much. So it's nice to see not just a familiar face, but exactly the one that I wanted to see."

"That I will. I'm glad that I managed to get a hold of you. Take care of yourself out there and I'll call you later about shore leave. Nihalla le, Wes," Jasmine kissed her fingers and touched them against the monitor displaying his face. The words were one of a dozen different way of saying good-bye. This particular way was reserved for that of those who were almost Imzadi.

He wasn't sure what it exactly meant, having never been much of a linguist. The only language, other than the two spoken on Corvallis, that he knew was Breen. But he did understand the emotion behind her words. He kissed his own fingers and matched them to hers, then replied in the reconstructed tongue of his own people, uttering a similar sentiment. "Call whenever. Farewell, le gra go deo."

‘Questions’

(right after ‘All-Hands’ and uses the last line of that post to kick off)

Operations Officer Colby Elliot

He stopped and waited for the echoes of his voice to die down. “Remember that. M’Kantu out.”

Colby Elliot pulled his head off his desk and ran a hand through his hair, “You have got to be freakin’ kidding me.” The big man got up and moved to one of the side terminals in the operations office. “Computer, bring up the FNN on screen one and all information on Trill on screen two.”

[Warning, this is not an operations procedure, unauthorized viewing of material on work shift hours prohibited]

“Fuck machines,” Colby said to himself as he shook his head and pulled the baseball cap from his desk drawer and pulled it on over his sleep tossed hair. “Elliot, Colby, authorization 765 1, shift commander, operations station four.”

[Information cleared, accesses granted]

“Thank you,” Colby replied as the computer screens came online then added, “Bitch.” Colby watched as the images unfolded and for the first time since he had left and come back to the Galaxy he stopped thinking about that damned shovel. Elliot shook his head grimly and tapped his commlink, “Elliot to operations staff, if you haven’t already turn on your screens to the FNN,” Colby said then shook his head, a long time ago he had given up on the belief in god and now he would say something he never imagined himself saying, “And pray.” Colby let the commlink go dead before he said, “Fucking pray.”

After making the call to the other members of the operations team Colby sat in his chair watching the news broad cast as it depicted the events unfolding. It didn’t seen anyone knew what the hell was going on and why it was happening, there was just panic and sorrow, the screen seemed to be bleeding with it. The images of people moving around covered in blood and ash and looking like death had fallen on them to.

“How the fuck did that happen,” Colby said to himself, not sure of how anything like this could have happened. There were too many questions welling up in Colby’s head to try and answer any of them one at a time, he wanted to know everything right now. Colby pulled the black hat off his head and ran a hand though his hair and shook his head. The thing that really bothered him was the size. The death, the pain, the fear, the sorrow all weighed heavily on Colby’s mind but not so heavy as the size.

“Computer, Bring up all Federation classes now in service, order vessels by length and mass.”

[Processing]

Colby watched on one of the other inset computer screens as the ships came up and were displayed. A Green outline and of the ship’s port schematic accompanied by its mass data. “Computer, move information to main display,” Colby said as he read through the size listings, “Exclude all vessels over 500 meters.”

[Processing] the computer replied as the image moved from the smaller screen to the full size viewer that was usually dedicated to ship system readings and the Galaxy’s damage reports. [Compilation Complete]

Colby moved to stand before the large screen and looked at the ship. Yeah, the death weighted pretty fucking heavy but what was really bugging him was the size. There was a limit to what you could crash onto a planet without either destroying the atmosphere or smashing the world out of orbit.

Colby pulled his cap back on then folded his arms across his chest as he looked at the screen. The thought that it might not have been an accident had not yet set in but it was beginning to worm its way into the back of his mind. “What the fuck is going on.”

"Where were you?..."

Correy Smith,
Flight Control Officer,
USS Galaxy

Correy Stirred as the pain in his arm grew more intense. Curled up in the seat of the carrier, he still sat, half asleep, avoiding contact with Alexia. He remained facing the oposite way hoping not to provoke her in any way possible.

He sat in silence, thinking about the `situation` at hand. He didnt really know this woman, and yet over the past twenty four hours, she had become a major part of his life.

Then his thoughts were last, as his attention was made to take note of the increasing tingling feeling of his arms.

~~ Pins and Needles ~~ he thought to himself. He slowly sat up, glancing over at the empty seat between him and Alexia, Alexia who was now sleeping. He smiled as he looked at her, he hadnt really taken it in the night before. That made him angry inside, sad maybe too. She was beautiful, and all he'd done the night before was....

His thoughts were interupted, and his focus moved from Alexia to the over head speaker. He welcomed the interuption inside, what was he thinking? Was he going soft? he gave himself a mental kick in the side and focussed fully on what now was apparent to be the captain.

[Ladies and gentleman, I apologise for the interuption, but something has come to our attention that we beliave you have the right to see. Please remain calm, and know that in a momnet, the over head monitors are going to be switched on, and what you will see is..... shocking to say the least. However, please remain calm, and know that I'm making every effort to get answers to the questions I know you'll want answering]

There was a slight murmour from the people onboard, unsure as to what the captain was speaking about. Something about his voice however, hinted that there was something seriously wrong. Correys mind began to race ~~ something wrong with the shuttle? No...~~

He stopped speaking, and there was a momentary rush of conversations and speculations between the passengers. Then the screens flickered on, and the same dazed look came over Correys face, that had also come over the face of the man in the oposite aisle to him, and his wife...

<snip>
The reporter, who's voice had only moments ago broken into sobs, now had regained his composure, and began to speak once more.

"Again....if you are just joining us... tragedy is unfolding. We have unconfirmed reports that a starship has crashed into the planet Trill. What you are seeing now is the capital city of Leran Manev, home to vast libraries, museums and some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Now, devastation is as far as the eye can see. Entire city blocks have been laid to waste. Flames are spreading. There are countless injuries as many are still trapped beneath collapsed structures. Casualties are being estimated in the thousands. No word yet from the Symbiote Commission or President Durghan. We're going to go live to Kal Sigg who is actually at the scene..Kal..."

The screen switched to a scratchy and grainy video of a man holding a microphone, covered in dust and soot. He looked over his shoulder and cupped his ear.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me? My ears are still ringing. I can still feel the impact of the ship hitting the planet. The debris is making it hard to breath...Jesus, I have never seen such hell. There are people crying for help...sirens..."

A sudden explosion to the reporter's left toppled a wall. The camera could just make out Kal throwing his hands up in the air before the image went black.
</snip>

As the screen went blank, it seemed to bring an air of eeriness over the shuttle. No one knew quite what to say. Then it hit him, he turned to Alexia and looked at her. She'd slept right through the broadcast. His mind raced. Should he wake her? Should he leave her? Surely she'd want to know.

"The Final Threshold."

Ensign Airaul Taern,
Chief Tactical Officer

Airaul had been convinced that he'd seen most things that lurked in life ready to shock and stun a man, but nothing had prepared him for the desolation presented so graphically for all to see.

It had been uncomfortable to watch, as if intruding on a person's nightmare, on their darkest fears. It didn't seem right to him that he should be able to watch people at their lowest and most vulnerable. And yet, he had not been able to keep his eyes away.

His life as a soldier had taught him many things. It had shaken sentimentality out of him as quickly as a youth could lose his innocence with a bottle of Jintz and the neighbour's daughter. It had taken away the sickness that had once welled through him at seeing someone, that just moments before had been laughing and happy, dead on the crimson stained sand, open and desecrated beyond recognition. It had taken away the idea of black and white and replaced it with a whole ocean of grey.

So it was none of those things that moved so quickly through his level and calm mind. It was a deep sense of regret.

Despite his world having been long in the clutches of a brutal civil war, there had always been one rule that all sides had stuck tightly to out of a sense of honour and just pure decency. All air attacks were to be directed on military targets only. No innocent people were ever to be intentionally harmed.

Yes, his path had once been that of a priest, and so he had treated many ordinary people's ills rather than only soldiers...but this...

A whole city of wounded innocents?

Airaul frowned as he took a quick, sharp breath. It was just...unfair.

When he had decided to turn his back on becoming a priest and instead trained as a soldier, it had been for friendship. His loyalty and desire to protect the closest man in all the universe to him. As his career had gone on, it had become more than just that. The old motives remained, but his sense of duty started to slowly swell as the bigger picture became more and more apparent to the increasingly stained and tainted man. Even with his closest friend, his gods, his entire world as motives for his actions, he still felt the same slow decay burning him from the inside.

It started slowly at first, gripping at his throat like a hangman's noose tightening around his convicted neck. It began when he had started to change. His confidence as a soldier had grown with his climbing ranks. The fear and trepidation replaced with adrenaline and eagerness to get to his enemy. He no longer pushed down an urge to flee at hearing the screams and smelling the blood and burning flesh of his comrades, instead, it all drove him on with a burning fuel to cut down as many as he could. That was when the pain inside had started.

His conscience talked to him. It whispered treacherous suggestions of how interchangeable killing was with murder. He had seen so much blood. Heard so much suffering. Much of it at his own hands. It made his blood cold and his throat burn with choked tears of grief...grief from the loss of his own innocence.

There was a pain so deep from his lifetime of fighting...so deep that nothing could mend it, not even time. How could a person keep on living with it? After all he had seen and done...all the darkness and wickedness he had witnessed seeping into the very soil of his home world, how could he ever go back to having an ordinary life? Of just being a man, with a house, and a boat that he loved to sail. It wasn't possible.

It would be the same for these people, he knew. For those who survived the destruction, having witnessed such horror in life, they would never be able to go back to how things were before. They would never see the life and growth in the scorched ground again. Never smell the scent of a fresh breeze on the tainted air. Never see the beauty in the stars from the blameworthy sky that had been the backdrop for the devastation delivered to them. It would all be different. It would all have different symbolism. Airaul had felt it himself...only, he had chosen to give himself over to a military life, and these people truly were innocents. Victims.

To take the heart from a person was to leave them with nothing but an empty, cold shell, filled with a festering hatred to seek revenge which could eventually lead to a path of self-destruction. To take the heart from a world could be dangerously similar.

Airaul sighed as he shook his head slowly. It was all...such a shame.

"Catching Up"

Lieutenant Corran Rex
Lieutenant Jasmine Heloi

As all the pilots filed out of the room, Corran motioned for his exec to stay. "Now's as good a time as any to talk, Jazz." Jasmine nodded and turned an apologetic look at her wingman, "I'll catch up with you at the bar, Tyten. I promise." With his nod, she returned to Corran. "So..." she began lamely.

"I want to go on record as saying you're a horrible, horrible person." he teased. "And you're probably going to make your head explode pulling double duty like this."

She had to laugh, "I know exactly what you mean. I get a headache just thinking about it. I feel like I'm a modern day version of Clark Kent. By day, mild mannered science officer, by night super fighter pilot. I just...I just couldn't turn it up." The Trill's eyebrows knotted together in obvious confusion. "Clark who?"

"Clark Kent...you know, Superman," Jasmine tried to explain. That was, of course, when she saw the complete confusion in his eyes, "Remind me to introduce you to the joys of comic books. One of my fellow actors on Starfire got me hooked on the classics - Superman, Batman, X-Men...Superhero comics..." Her voice trailed off, "Never mind."

"Like 'The Guardian' - mythical heroes kind of thing? Stories told in an old 2-dee graphic from?" he said, drawing the nearest parallel to his own culture's history. "We used to have those. People with amazing powers, running around in tights, blowing things up, that kind of thing?"

"Yeah, that's it," Jasmine nodded, somewhat relieved that she wasn't exactly speaking in riddles. It would have given her a nasty case of deja vu after all. "Clark Kent was the superhero's alter ego. That's what I was getting at."

"Ah." the Trill said, starting to wonder why in the world they were talking about this. "So why the double duty? Why not just go all the way?"

"Well," Heloi explained, "I love flying too much to give it up completely. The nice thing is that I'll get the best of too worlds...that is..." The Betazoid suddenly looked a little unsure, "Unless you would prefer a full time XO. I'd understand that...and if you want me to I'll step down...though I don't want to have to give up flying..." Her voice trailed off and for a moment the former actress looked more like a little girl unsure of herself and her place in the world than ever before.

"Well...." he started, deliberately trailing his voice off.

As if a light were switched somewhere in her mind, the Betazoid's eyes narrowed though the expression was somewhat ruined by the smile tugging at her lips, "Corran...." She said in the exact same tone.

Rex let out a low chuckle. He couldn't help teasing his exec about it. "No, relax. I'm not kicking you out. Truth is - we're on call a lot of the time anyway, and the situation doesn't always call for us. And honestly, you can only play around in simulators so much. I'm not going to fault anybody for wanting a day job."

She released a breath that she didn't know she had been holding, "Thanks for that. I honestly wasn't certain how you were going to react to the news. Heck, I'm still not certain how I'm reacting to the news. It's enough to make my head spin when I start thinking about the logistics behind my position change."

"So what happened to Cutter?" he asked. Oddly, he liked the rather.. bristly science officer. Maybe it because he wasn't all that nice.

"He decided after his extended experience in Karyn's body that he needed some time off. He's taking an extended leave of absence from the service. From what I understand he's planning on returning home for a time, but he didn't quite fill me in completely on what he's planning," Jasmine replied, shaking her head slightly. She could quite easily sympathize with Cutter's feelings on the matter. Then again, descending into the depths of insanity and emerging again tends to make one a bit more philosophical than normal.

"Gotta be strange." he said, ruminating over their last mission for a moment. "All I got was my own memories. Whose did you get?"

"Everyone's memories," Jasmine replied with a slightly pained expression on her face, "All at once, pounding over and over again. On that freighter, my shields dropped completely. It was something like being stuck in the middle of a room filled with a million different people shouting different things at the exact same time. Needless to say...it was not fun."

"Went a little crazy, eh?"

"In the literal sense, that'd just about cover it. It gave opportunity for one of our extra dimensional alien "friends" to take up residence upstairs. But, with Tarin's help, I managed to get my shields back up and my passenger out. Like I said, not fun."

"Hey, if anybody understood, it'd be me." the Trill replied, flashing a quick grin. His expression changed to a more thoughtful one for a moment. "Though not so much, these days."

"But you understand," she pointed out, "And that's what matters. Speaking of which...how are you doing?"

The tall man gave a shrug. It wasn't a question he really knew the answer to himself. "I'm....in progress." " he finally replied after some consideration.

Jasmine nodded with some understanding, "If you feel the need to talk about it, I'm here for you. Did you...have any family in the capital?"

Corran laughed, shaking his head. "Vorrin did. Does, apparently. I.. don't really want to talk about it.)

"Okay," she shrugged. Perhaps she was letting it go too easily, but she knew enough about the psyche to know when enough was enough. "Before I let you get back to things...why do you think you're going to be assigned to the capital when we reach Trill - that is, besides the obvious reasons?"

"Oh, that's easy." he replied with a knowing smile. "Lirisse Durghan is an... old friend."

"Oh?" the arched eyebrow told a thousand words. "One of *those* friends, I take it?" Jasmine's words and tone of voice suggested something more than mere friendship.

Corran raised his arms, letting his smile give the answer. "Speaking of which, Tara and I split up."

Her eyes widened, "Really? Wow. I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that, especially not after seeing the two of you together." She didn't ask what had happened since it really was none of her business. Though, despite those noble thoughts, she was rather curious about his reasoning.

Another shrug. "People move on, after a time. She's got her a command now, and I'm not really interested in a permanent relationship anymore."

"That is the one true constant in this universe. Everything and everyone changes."

"Very true." he replied, looking at his XO. For a moment, he wondered whether she was still involved with Hammond, the squadron commander of on Miranda. Not for the first time, he noticed just how attractive the former starlet was. Now, though, was probably not the time to ask. "Very, very true."

‘Looking for Answers’

(takes place directly after Questions)

Ensign Colby Elliot
Lieutenant David James

“What the fuck is going on.” Colby uttered to himself as he looked at the screen of the displayed starships. Something wasn’t right about all of this, he couldn’t put his finger on it but it just didn’t add up.

“What are you doing in here?” A voice came from behind and beneath Colby.

Colby turned around but saw no one. Now he was sure he was losing it.

David James let out a small sighed as the big man turned around and looked at the room, seeing everything above where James himself stood. It was something he had grown used to in his life but it never stopped bothering him. “Down here,” James said glibly, drawing Colby’s attention to where all four eight inches of David James stood.

Colby looked down and saw the man he would have called a midget and his first thought, though he was ashamed of it, was hadn’t they learned to fix that by the twenty forth century? Pushing that more then slightly degrading thought from his head Colby shook his head, “Sorry, didn’t see you down there,” he said then closed his eyes, wishing he had said something that sounded less stupid.

James rolled his eyes and went on, “I said what are you doing there?” he leaned to one side to look around Colby at the screen that displayed several of the Federation’s starships, “Doesn’t look like operations procedures.”

Colby Elliot weighed better then two hundred pounds and a fair amount of that bulk was muscle, he was six foot two and had he not felt like a total ass the comical look of the big man looking down on the little one would not have been lost on him. However, he did feel like an ass and because of it any thoughts of how this conversation might look to outsiders didn’t register. He had spoken to the small man like an idiot at some country fair and he was also not doing his job and had just been caught not doing it by his superior officer. “I was uh…” Colby trailed off, knowing he must have the stupidest damn look on his face. Yeah, he looked like a guy at the fair alright. “Did you hear about Trill?”

James shook his head, “News hasn’t filtered down this low yet,” he said then smirked, “Yes, it would be impossible not to hear about something like that I think.” The short man said as he moved closer to the main screen, looking up at the pictures depicted on the viewer. “What are you looking at?”

Colby turned to face the screen, as his mind shifted back into gear and turned back to think about the crash and the ship involved he felt less like an ass. “I was wondering what ship hit the planet so I was looking at the vessels currently in service.”

James nodded, “Why don’t you have them all up here?” David had a good idea why, it was because of their size, their mass and how much of an effect it would have had on the planet. However, given what he had heard about the operations officer he was now speaking too as well as how the man reacted to James himself he didn’t have a lot of faith in Elliot’s intelligence.

Colby nodded, pulling off his cap and tossing it back onto his desk. “Well I saw the pictures and the recordings at ground zero and that gave me a good idea of the destruction. I took the larger vessels off because they would do more damage then was done.” Colby pointed to the far screen that still depicted all the federation classes still in service, “If an ambassador hit the planet it would leave nothing but a three mile hole in the planet, a Titan class would hit the planet hard enough to either blow it apart of to throw it out of orbit.”

James pressed his lips together and nodded in surprised approval, the man was smarter then James had originally given him credit for. “That’s a good conclusion, but even some of the ships you have up are too large, it couldn’t be too much bigger then two hundred meters or it would have breeched the underground Trill baths.”

Colby turned to face James and sighed, annoyed with himself he shifted his gaze from where a normal operations officer would have been to look down at where James actually was. “But how do we know it didn’t hit deep enough to hit the pools?”

“We don’t know,” the dwarf said, putting emphasis on know, “but we can assume, with as large a role as the symbiots play in the Trill society if the pools were destroyed by the crash that would make a bigger story then the crash itself.”

“So they’re ok?” Colby asked, he wanted to know that, if they were alright then this wouldn’t be the tragedy it could have been. Death was death, weather it was bug slug with a brain or if it was a man. And the death of the sybiots as well as the death and destruction caused would have an even higher death toll then was now predicted.

David shrugged, “I wouldn’t say they are ok, there is still major danger to the area because of the impact and the shock it caused to the planet and the integrity of the caves but we can be pretty sure they have not been killed yet.”

“So do they know what ship hit the planet?” Colby asked, his eyes not leaving the chart of starships that was on the large view screen.

“The USS Akula,” James said squinting then shaking his head, “at least that’s what early reports said but…”

“But what?” Colby asked turning back to face James and once again finding that his gaze was too high. God he was an idiot, Colby thought to himself. He was a smart guy wasn’t he? Smart enough to realize to look down, maybe not. He shook his head, “What’s wrong with that?”

“The USS Akula is a Prometheus class ship,” the pint sized operations officer replied, “four hundred and fifteen meters, not only that the quad nacelle configuration adds substantial mass to the ship.”

Colby nodded, he got it, there should be a bigger hole if it was the class that big. “This early they could have made the wrong call.”

“More then likely,” James said as he climbed awkwardly into one of the chairs.

Without thinking Colby reached down and picked up the dwarf and set him effortlessly into the chair that he had been trying to sit in.

“Thanks,” James said in a slightly annoyed tone.

Colby’s breath froze in his throat, “Fuck me, I’m sorry man.”

James smirked and shook his head, “Don’t worry about it goliath.” Looking over at Colby James laughed, “Your hair looks terrible, what did you do with your hat?”

Colby laughed, “I took it off,” he turned to move for the desk but stopped right after turning. He just stood looking back at his desk then turned back to face the screen then James then the screen once more “I took it off, shit.”

“What?”

“What if its not wrong, what if it is the Akula and that it is a Prometheus class ship?” Colby said, his eyes once again fixated on the computer display.

“Well I know the Akula is a Prometheus class ship, I follow starships,” James summed up, “I just don’t think they Akula is what crashed down.”

Colby’s head cocked back slightly and he gave David James a quizzical look, “You FOLLOW them?”

James’s lips pressed together with a look of slight embarrassment as well as the look of a man who has explained this a time or two before. “It’s a hobby, as ships are launched off I log them into a book I have, name class and registration.” He explained, “I also keep track of what ship yard they are detached from.”

“I get you,” Colby replied, “I did the same thing when I was a kid with football players.” He said then shook his head, they had gotten off topic, “But what I mean is what if it was the Prometheus class and it took off its hat,” he said then looked back to the screen, “Separated its saucer and that crashed into the planet?”

James snapped his fingers, “I should have thought about that, the saucer isn’t much more then two hundred meters, it would fit the bill for the crash but…”

“Where’s the rest of the ship right?” Colby said, if it is the Akula then she could still be out there, the rest of her anyway.”

“But she would have called in, logged her position and the accident.” James insisted.

“If it wasn’t an accident?” Colby asked, knowing all about hits that were not accidents and not tumbles down the stairs.

David let out a long breath of air, “Wow.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Colby said. “First though, if it is the Akula and it hit the ground, the whole fucker, is it possible to leave the damage it did? Not make a bigger hole?”

James shrugged, “Soft landing but to do that it would have had to have its maneuvering thrusters to fight the gravity.”

Colby nodded solemnly, a sick feeling was clawing its way up into his throat, moving uneasily though the rest of him and making him feel cold. “And if she had the power to slow her decent then she could have dodged the city.” His voice felt like to came from a million miles away.

“If the Akula had the power to slow he decent and still hit the city it was intentional, if her saucer hit the city and the rest of her hasn’t logged in the it was intentional,” James said, his lips growing dry.

“We need to talk to command,” Colby said, “Let’s get to the bridge.”

“Yeah,” the small man replied.

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile
Marine Recon Specialist

Lt. Brianna "Anna" O'Shea,
Chief Engineer / Liaison SCE

------

Brianna was standing at the central console, looking over the latest information coming in from the downed Starship on Trill. "Randi, get me the technical specifications on the USS Akula... I want class information and get the last engineering report filed with Starfleet Corp of Engineers." Anna said, as she leaned back over the console.

Patience is a virtue, but for Marines it was vital or else they end up blowing up wherever they were assigned. Younger marines spent hours preparing, checking gear, getting battleready. The older ones just let the day come as it may. There was no reason to get worked up until they hit dirtside. The ship wouldn't enter orbit for at least another 18 hours, but hell, he was a passenger. They could be entering orbit in five minutes for all he knew.

Randi handed Brianna the information she asked for, but the SCE report was missing. "Where's the last upload to SCE?" Anna asked, glancing over at Randi.

"Still working on, communication relays are being taxed with so many inquires coming in for Trill..."

"Make it a priority... if you have to, interrupt the communications... I need that report, soon as possible." Brianna said.

"Yes, Ma'am." Randi said, then moved away.

With that much time to spare, Baile took the chance to check the gear. Rescue missions like the one they were embarking on rarely required marines in a fighting capacity, but an unprepared Marine was a dead Marine. Scanners needed recalibrating, his armour needed checking for weak spots, the guns needed checking up. He'd done all of those things just before he left, but it wouldn't hurt to do it again. Always do what you can today instead of waiting for tomorrow since tomorrow might never come.

Brianna had headed out of Engineering now, was heading to the shuttle bay, wanting to check on the runabout Euphrates. Walking into the bay she nodded to the chief, then headed over and began to check on the runabout.

Now all he had to do was find one of those gearheads. He made his way into what some Marines called the dungeons, but fortune smiled at him. Halfway there he saw the familiar uniform of an engineer. Baile had never been a fan of jackets, preferring t-shirts with the SFMC insignia on. Absentminded he scratched the Trident tattoo on his left arm. "Hey....." he called out and walked closer.

Anna looked up. "My god.. when did you get assigned here?" Brianna said, looking over at him. "Look like hell..." She commented and then give a weak grin.

"Well.. if it ain't Nubbie.... " Baile grinned and crossed his arms across the chest.

"My eyes are already hurting... from looking at this piece of marine before me..." She said, matching his stance. "How have you been, Rooster.." She said, indicating she remembered the nickname he didn't like, having named him that cause of his outlandish hair style.

"Fine uptil now.." he replied with sly grin.

Brianna punched him in the arm, knowing it had no effect other then a playful jab. "Still say you cut your hair like that just to torque me cause you know how I don't like it." Brianna said, then grinned.

Baile's reply was to run a hand through his short mohican hairstyle. "Still play around with these dinkytoys?" he asked and nodded at the runabout.

"Still am, I see you still the image of marine corp... very... well.. not sure what it is." She replied, looking over his appearance. "You marines actually going to help with relief efforts?" Anna asked as she looked at him, figuring he'd heard about the disaster by now.

Not a trace of compassion was found in his eyes when she spoke of the disaster. "I don't know." he replied and shrugged. "I doubt there'll be a need for military activity, so I guess we'll be shovelling bodies for a while."

"I think my people are going in as well. I've got a friend down there somewhere, so far the computer can't find him for me." Brianna said, "I'm sure your detail will be close with mine since we are involved in structural integrity.. my team will be one of the first that goes in."

"What does he look like?" Baile asked in return. Battlefields or disaster areas. Both were pure chaos and the home of Jebidiah Baile.

"Joined trill.. Jerel Aries..." She said, then walked over to a wall unit and pulled up his picture from the database. He had long hair, deep dark brown eyes. "He's a good friend.. my mentor of sorts, Ambassador Jerel Aries is a amazing person... "

He looked at the picture, memorizing it. He doubted the face would be very much alike in real life after a disaster like that. "I can't promise you anything. I'm stuck with a bunch of newbies and wannabe's." Baile explained. Security would probably take care of looters and the occasional hotspot. At least he hoped so. The thought of sending in Marines against some looters wasn't too thrilling.

"I know.. just keep your eye out, if you find him... let me know.. okay?" Anna said.

He just nodded. Anna knew just how good he was. If Jerel Aries was out there, then Baile would find him. Dead or alive.

"So.. what else is new in your life?" Brianna said, then changing the subject as she poked his rib as she sat down in a chair in the runabout.

"This shithole..." he replied with a sour face and adjusted the sidearm strapped to his thigh as he sat down opposite to her.

"You have to give this ship it's dues... look what it's been through and it's still in service." Anna said. "Course I'm partial to this ship cause I'm the chief engineer." She added.

"Then I guess congratulations is in order." he commented and grinned. "You move up and I move down."

"Yes well I wish everyone felt that way around here, some people seem to think that I'm some sort of Internal Affairs person... simply cause I'm the Liaison to the Starfleet Corp of Engineers... my department is walking around on egg shells around me." Brianna said, then looked at him. "Am I really so bad?"

He shrugged. "Not to me... I remember when they shipped you out to us to repair our gear... damn you were green.."

"My god, Jeb, you all gave me hell... if I didn't have to cover my own ass from your 'friends' then I was watching for one of you to push me over the edge with some gory story of battle and bravery." Anna said, then sighed.

Baile only grinned at the memories. "We were bored.. SI sent us busted gear and we had already cleared the sector.. then you shipped in... all ass and looks.. Can you blame us for having fun?"

"Oh yes I can..... Rooster!" She said, then grinned.

He leaned back, giving her another sly grin. "If it makes you feel better, Caileb thought you did a good job... I know it didn't feel like it, but that was his style."

"Did he really or are you just saying that to be nice?" Anna replied. "I was scared coming there, not because of the work I had to do.. but because I was being the only female the troop had seen in months that wasn't permanently scared, covered in mud or talked like a drunken sailor... hell, I was eye candy for the lot..." She said, then grinned, it felt good getting her mind off the crisis that was going on.

"You were in good hands." he replied, sounding serious. "We were there to kill the enemy and that's what we did. Over and over again." Baile paused for a few seconds, watching his hands. He had strong, but scarred hands, not unlike a bricklayer or a carpenter. Only those hands didn't create. They destroyed.

Sitting there looking at him she then reached over and took his hand. "Hey.. where were you just now?" She asked, seeing him with a far away look in his eyes as he looked at his hands.

"Take your pick.." Baile said and looked at her. His eyes were dead. No emotions, only a haunted soul somewhere deep inside. Baile was not a unique Marine. He wasn't more messed up than most of the veterans. This was their way of handling it. No shrink could understand what it was like after months behind the enemy lines. No words would dull the memories they had inside.

"When we get done with this thing with Trill... lets go out.. get me drunk, how's that?" Brianna said, she'd over to listen if he wanted to talk, but she knew he wouldn't. He would want to go drinking.

"You got yourself a deal... " Baile responded, a bit relieved that the issue wasn't pushed further. He picked up the case he had been carrying. "Got something I need you to work some mojo magic on..." the marine told her and opened the case. Inside lay one of his rifles, in this case a slugthrower. He still preferred phasers, but in some places a good old carbine was better. There was however nothing old about the carbine in the riflecase.

Sitting her pad down beside her. "What's wrong with it, or should I ask, what do you want it modified to do?" Anna said, letting him tell her what he needed.

"Is it that obvious?" The faked surprise revealed a very bad actor. "I need it to bore off better. Had to punch a guy in the face with it and it's been off alignment ever since." Expertly he released the clip and made sure it had no round in the chamber. "It needs to be reinforced here and here, " he instructed and pointed on the barrel. Goes all wonky with a silencer."

Nodding. "Looks like this thing has seen better days... shouldn't take me but a little bit to get it how you want it. How would you feel if I fabricated a brace from here to here? Id' make it more stable and steady... as for the silencer, have you upgraded it with the latest one?"

"You're talking to a Marine... what do you think?" he responded with a grin. The rifle bore very little resemblance with the gun he had been issued. Any member of special operations modified their rifles until it was just the way they wanted it. Baile's was no exception. "Oh, and the gearbox could do with a bit of mojo as well. Locks up too easy." Too easy for a former special ops was not what someone from Security would mean as too easy. Too easy for Baile meant after three months in mud, cold, vacuum, water, scorching heat, sand, tough handling. When it locked up after that - then it locked up too easy.

"You want to leave this with me, or go with me, should take about hour." Brianna said, looking up.

"Got nothing better to do... might as well go with you and see the other apes.."

"Grab your gear, come on, we'll get it done." Anna said, standing up. Leading him out of the shuttle bay, they soon walked into a engineering work room where she began to work on his rifle. She didn't explain anything, just went about fixing it. "Where... was you last stationed?" She asked, as she began to set the new mounts.

He shrugged and sat down on a workbench. "Boring assignment near Cardassian space. Basic patrol duty, the kind of stuff no one hears about since everything is all fine and dandy there now."

"You long for good battle, right?" Brianna asked, as she looked over at him briefly before turning her attention back to what she was doing.

"Better than sitting around with my foot up my ass.."

"God, are you the poet today." Anna commented, as she furrowed her brow and then held up the rifle. She then began to graft new mountings for a silencer. "What crawled up your leg and bit you on that perky ass?"

"You maybe?" he grinned. Baile closed his fist as hard as he could, popping knuckles one by one.

"We tried that once.. you didn't bite." Anna replied.

He leaned against the wall, relaxing. Or at least it was relaxed for being a Marine. "Seems people tried a lot of things... "

"What's that suppose to mean?" Brianna asked, now looking at him. "Be nice to me or I might not finish this." She said, then grinned.

He held up his hands in innocence. "Nuthin.. " Baile's face broke up in a grin.

"Better.." She replied, then nodded in satisfaction. "Okay... see if that makes you happy." The engineer said, as she stepped out of the way and let him look over his rifle.

The marine walked up next to her and picked up the rifle. With the ease that comes with years and years of practice picked it up and inspected it closely. This was all business. In the field his life depended on things like this. "Feels better.. you did a good job... as always.."

"You me then." She said, a she began to pick up the tools. "The usual will suffice." Anna said, then looked over at him once more.

"Already looking forward to it... I'll try not to blow my brains out of sheer boredom... " the marine replied and grinned. "Is there a firing range or something onboard or is that too violent for ya shipmonkeys?" he asked with a sly grin and scratched his chin.

"I don't know about the firing range, but got holodecks." She informed.

"Alright... it'll have to do.. " he said and nodded, putting the rifle back in the case. "See you around, Nubbie... and thanks.." Baile said, patting the riflecase.

"Better... hey.. still owe me twenty credits.., Rooster!" She reminded him as he walked out. Brianna then shook her head and then headed back toward Engineering to wait whatever came in.

"The Trouble with Trill"

Ensign Miramon Terrik,
Flight Control Officer

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

So, Saul and Nara were once again the mainstay of the ship's social problems for Miramon, and had pretty much been the extent of all the problems aboard where he was concerned until the Captain called the "All Hands". At which point, as the humans would say, everything went to Hell.

Since it wasn't his duty shift, he'd figured his best option would be to report to the shuttlebay. From what the Captain had said with his announcement, the Trill would need all the help they could get, which would likely mean support teams would be shuttling down to the surface as well as taking the transporters. But how the hell was a single starship supposed to have the resources to heal an entire planet? As the Starfleet mandate was ever clear on, they had to do what they can with what they had for as long as they could. Holding the line, he supposed.

Sufficed to say, by the time he got there, the deck was already swarming with people - medical teams on their way down to the planet, or those prepping the shuttles to go. Not since Havras had he seen the whole ship this much on the edge, and even with the damn memory-jumping that they'd been doing recently, before the Dreshayans had shown up and started trying to blow holes in his shuttle, everybody had seemed at least a little more relaxed. The air carried with it a tension, and they hadn't even gone down to the planet yet. Well, some might have done, perhaps, but he hadn't and neither had any of the people he was watching now.

The devastation was pretty bad, according to M'Kantu. For once, he'd liked to have thought the Captain was wrong, but since Miramon was a bridge officer, he'd spent a lot of time around the Command Staff when on duty, and he knew the Captain never exaggerated about such things. Besides, if anything, he'd have wanted to downplay this to keep people's minds on the job instead of floating around trying to deal with the situation in their own heads. As it was, he imagined the Counsellors were gonna have some great fun with this one. Trill to help out with, then traumatised crewmembers to work with. Kinda reminded him of the conversation he'd had with Nara earlier in the day. They had their work cut out for them.

He didn't really know any Trills. Okay, there HAD been that incident with Doctor Lias in Ten Forward, but that was Saul's fault and not his. Besides, getting that man out of a tight spot (as if he didn't have enough women troubles) did not really constitute knowing somebody. She was a brief acquitance, nothing more. But of everyone on the ship, she was probably the one likely to be at the forefront - her homeworld, after all. And since she was on the medical staff, it was more than likely she'd be down there, sooner or later.

As he walked into Shuttlebay 2, he was inadvertantly pushed, pulled, knocked to one side and damn well near flattened by the number of people running around in there. The doors didn't have opportunity to close, and it was only because he was tall and not in a good mood that he got through the mess at all. There were several shuttles parked and ready to go, most of them currently being loaded with the supplies they'd need to set up Triages on the planet's surface. Sufficed to say, he wasn't needed on the Bridge, since the ship was stuck in orbit and they hardly needed a pilot, especially with Lieutenant Savoie on the Bridge.

He walked up to the nearest shuttle and patted it with his hand as he walked beside it. The last time he'd flown one of these things, someone was intent on trying to see how many shots a Federation Shuttle could take before it went kaboom and ended the career of a particularly irritated ensign. Nobody'd be doing that this time, not with the Galaxy hanging around. Okay, it was but one ship, but it was a big ship, and not one that several Galor-Class Cardassian ships could take down. If anyone was looking to come back and play with the Trill while they were already having problems, the Captain'd smack tens bells out of them before you could blink. After all, he was human, and they were more impulsive even than Bajorans when you got them annoyed.

Sighing, he walked around the back of the shuttle and stepped aboard, ignoring the looks he got from several of those he had to step past in order to do so. Not that he blamed them. Everybody looked as though they'd just been in the middle of a quiet meal and seen a 4ft fly land in their soup. Quickly he checked the cockpit - no pilot. How it was this ship managed when they couldn't even find enough capable pilots to fill the shuttle front seats, he'd never know. He sighed and muttered a curse in Bajoran, then took the front seat, switching the controls over to manual. He hated flying with computer assistance. Took all the fun out of it.

Within a minute, the shuttle was filled to capacity with crates of supplies and the personnel that were going down to the surface with them. All they had to do was get down there now, and the work would begin. Instead of waiting for hell, they were gonna shuttle right down there. And he'd been looking forward to a quiet trip to Trill, too.

"Aftershocks"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

"Alright, he's stabilized," Eytan said as he moved away and removed his gloves and gown, disposing of them to keep the environment as sterile as possible. "You can move him to a more secure location now," he added to a pair of Trill med-techs, nodding at them both. The med-techs gently moved Eytan's patient out of the room, and as soon as they were gone Eytan collapsed in a nearby chair, suddenly realizing just how exhausted he was. Even after fifteen hours of searching for and treating survivors, more continued to turn up, almost all of them in serious or critical condition.

~The bastards who did this knew exactly when and where to strike in order to inflict the maximum amount of casualties,~ Eytan thought, a scowl marring his features for a moment. He rubbed his eyes slowly and stretched, knowing that there were more Trills who needed his help, but also recognizing that doctors were hampered by the same limitations as any other humanoid, and needed to take a minute or two to rest.

Finally he stood and made his way out of the alcove he'd commandeered for his use and looked around the triage area for another patient. He saw a med-tech carrying a young Trill girl into the room, and he quickly made his way toward them both. "What happened?" he asked as he helped the med-tech carry the girl into the alcove.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" the med-tech asked in a moment of resigned sarcasm. She was quickly met with Eytan's steely glance, and she swallowed, refocusing herself and looking down at the girl as she spoke. "I found her not too far from the damage radius," she explained. "It doesn't look like she was caught in the initial blast, thank goodness; her injuries were probably caused by a secondary explosion from a nearby building."

Eytan nodded, examining the girl with his eyes as they brought her inside the alcove. His left hand moved across the girl's back, searching for any wounds there, when he felt blood on his fingers. "Damn," he whispered. He took the girl into his arms to free the med-tech's hands. "Get some sterilized instruments ready," he ordered the med-tech, "we need to operate immediately." He gently lay the girl down on her stomach and cut part of the back of her shirt open so he could clearly see her wounds, then ran a scanner over her to determine exactly what was wrong. He then glanced up at the monitor and tapped the screen, rotating the image so that he could see her back.

"I think I've discovered what's wrong," he announced grimly. "She has several pieces of shrapnel buried in her back; no doubt she was facing the opposite direction when the explosion occurred. Most of them are small and either buried in the skin or muscle tissue, but this one here could present a problem," he added, touching the screen again and magnifying her lower back, showing them both the largest of the pieces had partially entered the girl's spinal column.

The med-tech frowned at the monitor for a moment, then quickly returned to prepping the surgical instruments. "Can you extract it without causing any more harm, Doctor?"

"Possibly. But even if I can, she may be paralyzed for the rest of her life. Still, I have to try; this girl isn't beyond saving by any means," Eytan declared, and then quickly got himself gowned, gloved, and prepped for surgery. He made an incision in the girl's back, and the med-tech applied retractors to keep the incision open enough for Eytan to work. As he worked carefully to get a clamp on the shrapnel and remove it from the girl's spine without causing any further damage while the med-tech handled everything else, letting Eytan focus completely on removing that piece of shrapnel.

They worked for what seemed like hours but was really only seconds. Eytan's eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth, as if he was trying to will the shrapnel out of the girl's back. Suddenly he heard footsteps coming from behind, and he kept one ear perked as he continued to concentrate on the girl in front of him. "Whatever it is," he spoke firmly, "it will have to wait until I'm finished here."

"Begging your pardon, Doctor, but we have an emergency here, this is a very important--" came the voice of whoever it was behind him.

"Don't give me that; I have a real emergency right here in front of me!" Eytan snapped, though he never lost his focus on his patient. "I am not going to give up on this child, whom I can and *will* save, just because a politician, athlete, member of the Symbiosis Commission, or any other 'more important member of Trill society' sprained his ankle or scraped his knee. Now if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would find a more suitable location to help your patient," the Brenari finished with a slight growl in his voice. He could see in the reflection of the monitor beside him that the new patient was barely injured at all, and probably was convinced that he should be treated ahead of any others, even those with much more serious injuries, just because of his position. ~Politics have no place in medicine,~ Eytan reminded himself, something he was told back on Voyager.

Mercifully the overbearing visitors departed, and Eytan returned to his work, fighting his anger down so that he could keep his mind solely on saving his patient. The worst thing that could happen now was him slipping up just because he couldn't hold his temper.

And then, at last, the piece of shrapnel pulled free, and Eytan carefully removed it from the girl's body, dropping it in an empty pan by the bed. He let out a deep breath and then quickly moved to repair the damage to the girl's spinal cord and any neurological trauma caused by the shrapnel's presence.

"Is she going to be alright?" the med-tech asked, watching Eytan work.

Eytan sighed. "She'll probably walk with a limp for the rest of her life, but that should be the extent of the injury's effect. Here, help me remove the rest of this shrapnel," he said, and with the med-tech's help, he retrieved every last bit of foreign material that had been buried in the girl's back, and then used a dermal regenerator to seal every wound and incision. He took a step back.

"That should do it," he said tiredly. "Go ahead and get her out of here, others will be needing this space." As the med-tech left with the still-unconscious girl, Eytan repeated the same process he'd just gone through half an hour ago, removing the gown and gloves and disposing of them, and then sitting down again for a few minutes. He shook his head, wondering why he'd decided to go into medicine when he knew that he would be responsible for so many lives. Then he recalled his years in the Devore camps, and he shivered, reaching a hand up and rubbing at the scar on his head. Finally he stood and hurried out of the room, looking for something to take his mind off his memories.

For once there was a short lull in the influx of patients, which brought Eytan hope that maybe things were finally beginning to calm down. He made his way through the EMA control center until he found the people who kept track of who had come and gone through the center...or tried to, anyway. "Hey," he greeted one of them wearily. "Have you heard anything yet?" he asked.

The Trill woman paused in thought and then consulted her disorganized records. After a minute she looked back up at Eytan and shook her head, a frown on her face. "I'm afraid Doctor Nox hasn't been brought in here," she said. "We try to keep track as best as we can, but you know how chaotic things have been, Eytan. Plus it's possible that he managed to escape the blast, or at least the worst part of it..."

Eytan sighed and nodded. "I hope so," he replied. He gave her a tired smile and laid a hand on her arm. "Let me know if he turns up." With that he turned and headed back down the hallway, looking for someone else he could help.

"Unfinished Business"

(Backpost: Set shortly after the resolution of the freighter problem.)

by

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief

Ensign Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

"So much to do, so much to do."

Iniara sighed heavily, dropping into her office chair. A seemingly unending stream of tasks and projects had crossed her desk since she had been promoted. She had just about caught up when the memory jumping had started, which had left her more than slightly distracted. Then there had been the excitement with the freighter, and trying to keep Jasmine Heloi in the here and now. After everything had quieted down, Iniara felt like she could sleep for days.

But it wasn't meant to be, at least not now. She had more important things to attend to, and quite a long list from the looks of her computer screen. Scanning the list, she mentally categorized and prioritized each item.

"So much to do, so little...Bental?" Iniara asked out loud, confusion evident in her voice. According to her notes, Ensign Bental's rooming situation still had not been corrected. Ah yes, that was when the whole memory thing started, she remembered.

Part of her was tempted to take the easy route: stick him in the smaller room on Deck Five and be done with it. But something about their shared memory encounter had stuck with her. Suddenly she realized she was itching to discuss the experience with him. One piece of it in particular.

Without hesitation she tapped her commbadge. "Tarin to Ensign Bental. Please report to my office at your earliest convenience." Turning to the replicator, she ordered a very large mug of coffee, then went back to her to-do list.

* * * * *

Saul leaned toward the display, resting his chin on one hand. The report on the growing piracy in the outlands was fascinating, and only strengthened what he told his previous CO, Lt.Commander Stom. The stolen Driznok fleet striked in several key locations, intercepting cargo vessels and raiding lightly defended outposts. Strangely enough, all of these raids were conducted against the neighbours and enemies of the Driznok.

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of room." Saul murmured to himself, and returned to the list of Lily squad candidates. He still toyed with the decision who to put second on the list and who to put third, when he received Iniara's hail.

"Well, you can't keep a lady waiting." He chuckled to himself, stood up, and left the room without any delay.

The corridors of the ship were humming with movement, and so was the Operations center. Saul quickly located the Operations chief, and beamed at her. The quarters issue wasn't closed yet so he had to stay on her better side - and besides, it was always good to keep a good relation with the ship's Operations chief if you ever needed anything... extra.

Plus, from his little contact with her, Lieutenant Tarin seemed like a nice enough lady, and that counted for something too.

"How are you doing, Lieutenant?"

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," she replied, smiling widely as she motioned him into her office. She picked up her giant mug of coffee, then paused with it halfway to her lips. "Can I get you anything?"

"No no, I'm good."

"So I just realized that we never finished your quarters reassignment," Iniara explained as she settled into her desk chair.

"Yes..." Saul recalled what happened the last time he met the Chief of OPS. The memories from the raid and from the hilly scenery were very vivid in his mind's eyes, much like most of the other memories he had experienced. "With everything that happened, I just put it off for a while. For the time being the quartermaster didn't assign me any new bunk mate, so I am in no hurry."

"Ahh. Well, now that I've got you here, let's see if we can get it taken care of." Iniara turned to her console, reading the information out to Saul. “There are still the two rooms available on Deck Five: one in section thirty-four measuring sixty-seven square meters in size, and a slightly larger one in section twelve which is eighty-four square meters. Apparently they are both single occupancy rooms left over after the ship's Guest Quarters were reconfigured during the refit."

Taking a sip of her coffee Iniara looked back up at Saul. "The last remaining room on Deck Nine was filled about a week ago, so those are your two choices. Any preference?"

"The larger one, of course. Unless it is especially far from a turbolift... I won't have time to run around corridors should emergency arise. Also, if there's anything near the hull, I would prefer a room with a view."

Saul paused, then a grin emerged. "Rather demanding and spoiled, aren't I?"

A short laugh escaped Iniara's lips, but she said nothing further. Instead she tapped a few more buttons on her console. "Both rooms are almost equally close to the turbolifts on Deck Five. The smaller room is located on the hull, and it's near the front of the ship so it will obviously have a good view. The larger room however is an interior room. No windows."

"The smaller room is far from cramped, so unless you're planning on building large-scale models or practicing acrobatics, it would probably be your best bet."

"I agree - thanks for giving me a new home! So... what happened to you after I left you on that hill?" Saul asked, slightly more relaxed now that his privacy was ensured.

"Ah yes, that." Iniara still felt a bit unnerved after the initial memory swap. Making a conscious decision to share her past was tough enough; unwittingly drawing others into a recreation of her memories was another thing entirely.

"After I left you, I thought I had returned to the present, to the time and place that is supposed to be real. But that turned out to be another memory, one from Havras in fact. From there I hopped through several memories from various stages of my life. At one point I got so frustrated I started scanning for living, breathing crewmembers, trying to figure out who was real and who was not. I touched the minds of whoever-- whatever it is that caused this, and it scared the hell out of me. Then I ran into Lieutenant Jamson, one of my Operations Officers, and soon after I forced myself out of the memory cycling."

"But not once did I really seem to be in someone else's memories, at least not until the perception jumping started later. I hate to think what memories of mine I was projecting, and who happened to get caught in them." She grimaced. "Uncontrolled telepathy can sometimes be dangerous. I think that's why I was so engrossed in the first memory...why it took me so long to understand what was actually going on."

Saul frowned for a moment. How could she be a telepath if she was a Betazoid? But then, he recalled her calling him Imzadi on the hillside, when the wind brushed their faces and carried voices and memories into the wind. It didn't take an Intelligence analyst to reach the obvious conclusion.

"I didn't realize it was harder on Betazoids... or part Betazoids. I assumed that your familiarity with thoughts as something which isn't necessarily private would help you confront the phenomenon."

"As did I. But I was born with telepathic abilities much stronger than most Betazoids, let alone half-Betazoids, and I've struggled to keep it in check ever since. Sometimes I just can't do it. I can't say exactly how it relates, but I think that has something to do with it."

"So what happened with you?" she continued. "Did you find anything important along that path?"

Saul sighed. "It was an interesting trip. But as much as I love adventures, I think my life would be simpler if I hadn't followed that road. It led me to some places which should've been kept unvisited."

"That seems to be a common theme with these experiences. I wish these beings would have just tell us what they wanted with our memories. Were they studying us? Torturing us? Perhaps both?" After her encounter with the being in Jasmine’s head she had figured out a lot more regarding the aliens, but that didn’t alleviate her confusion as much as she would have liked.

"In my case, I regard it as a personal defeat. My department was unable to provide intelligence which could have aided the crew in facing the incident," Saul said sternly. "I'm going to have my squad document everything so that the next Starfleet crew who encounter these beings won't be caught unprepared."

"I may have a thing or two to add to that report," Iniara told him. "As I'm sure some of the other empaths and telepaths on board would."

"Eventually I suppose a single, official report will be compiled. I have no idea who's going to be responsible, but since the Intelligence department is primarily 'Starfleet Intelligence's embassy' as we like to call it, we'll probably send a report of our own to S.F.I only. I'll contact you about it if I learn anything new."

Saul straightened his uniform, eliminating a couple of wrinkles. "I really should get going and take care of that - and other things - so unless there's anything else..."

"Actually, there's one thing I wanted to ask you about. Before you disappeared down that path, I think I caught a bit of one of your memories. It came through all jumbled; I wasn't sure what I was seeing." Iniara paused, debating how best to continue. In reality she felt fairly certain of what she had seen, but didn't want to give it away just yet.

Saul suddenly became very alert. No one visited his own memories as far as he knew, and there were much too many memories which were risky to share. With a tense tone, he asked, "Are you sure it was mine?"

"I remember seeing a Ferengi. He was on a screen, a comm panel, talking to someone on a sofa. There was a name. Re...Reiziger?" she asked, stumbling a bit on the complicated name. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does. It's in Dutch, a Terran language. It means traveler," Saul replied, as though it was the most negligible question in the universe. "I've had a friend or two with that family name back on Utrecht III - Humans of Dutch origin are quite common there."

None of that was a lie, of course. Saul was not going to lie to a semi-Betazoid in the face and expect to get away with it. The art was not to lie but to withhold the truth, manipulate it to your own needs.

"So what else was in that memory?" Saul asked casually.

Iniara wasn't nearly as skilled at manipulating and withholding facts to suit her needs, so she decided to just come out with it. "The Ferengi said they were going to assassinate a Starfleet officer," she said, her voice becoming much quieter. While she talked, she let her mental shields drop just a bit to try and read Saul's reaction before he actually reacted.

It was no surprise to her that beneath the calm and mildly interested appearance, Saul Bental was apprehensive. "Go on."

"He said, 'I never thought of you as a murderer, Reiziger.’ That was the man on the sofa--Reiziger. The man whose perspective the memory came from. And I think it was you."

There was no point in denying, and Saul was not going to confess either. He quickly thought of an alternate plan, one which will keep Iniara unclear whether he is that Reiziger or not, and that will prevent her from prying further into the matter.

"Lieutenant," he began, his tone stern, "I am not at liberty to discuss this matter, and I am sorry that you had to see these sights. Let me just reassure you - I have never, in my life, murdered or tried to murder a Starfleet officer."

“I see. Well in that case, I’m sorry I brought it up,” Iniara replied, her tone of voice not entirely apologetic. “Consider the matter closed, then.”

"That's good, that's good." Saul nodded absently. "I guess the memory swapping caused such awkward situations throughout the ship. But no harm was done. I'll see you later, then."

Iniara did her best to smile, though it felt more than a little forced. “Until later. Enjoy your new quarters.”

"Caught Undefended"

Ensign Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

"Shalom Miramon, just wanted to let you know that I'm well. Looks like we're going to postpone our trip to the symbiont caves with Tizarin for a while… speaking of which, I'm going to try and talk to her once everything settles down. Godspeed. Computer send message."

Saul tapped on his commbadge twice and staggered into the Intelligence CIC. He was still feeling slightly dazed, but that was compensated by the sheer levels of adrenaline now flooding his body.

The magnitutde of the disaster was something he was yet to cope with, as well as how it affected his plans. The contract on Naranda, the meeting Janny spoke about, the visit to the symbiont caves… everything he intended to do was pushed aside in face of what happened. Saul was not going to give up on his plans, though – he was just going to do it all AND deal with the crisis.

Like a juggler with one juggling ball too much.

Several eyes met his as he entered, but the reactions weren't as surprised as they would if not for the crash. The people at Intel knew that Saul has collapsed, but right now they had better things to do than to ask him what happened.

Saul quickly located Nyoko Yuuri from his squad. If Paulo DiMillo was rapidly becoming his biggest rival in the department, Nyoko became his best ally since Cora approved her assignment to the Secondary Intelligence Unit. Cora was nowhere in sight, but Saul assumed she was in her office or on her way.

"Saul! I thought you were hospitalized.", she said, taking her eyes off the display she was hunched over only for a split-second.

"I'm here now. Bring me up to date."

In short, accurate sentences Nyoko described the current situation to Saul. It looked grim, very grim.

Saul wasn't sure what was worse – the implications of the disaster or the fact that they were caught with their pants down. There were no hints prior to the catastrophe that someone was going to commit such an atrocity.

The fact that from all the places on the planet to crash into the ship 'selected' the Trill capital city suggested that it wasn't an accident, and if that was the case then Starfleet Intelligence was to blame. SFI was the organization responsible for halting such threats before they hit the Federation population.

"The best we can do right now is to help the relief efforts and try to prevent any other damage.", Nyoko concluded. "Oh, and we already have the ship's name. It was the Akula, a Prometheus class Starship due to be decommissioned in six months."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Because the Prometheus class was launched on 2374? Yes, I know, we're checking it right now with Starfleet command. There's also a problem with the damage radius not fitting the damage we expect a ship weighting 2100000 metric tons to cause, and we're checking that too. With all the chaos, several communication relays around the sector were overloaded, so… these things take time."

"Do we know where this ship was heading? Was it even supposed to be here?"

"I'm not sure… we're checking." Nyoko looked helpless. "I'll ask Paulo if he has anything new on that, I think he was the first one to find out the ship's name."

Saul frowned. "You do that."

As Nyoko dashed on her way, Saul turned to gaze horrified at the console showing Leran Marev in flames.

* * * 11/9/2001, IDF Intelligence Research Headquarters, Israel, 10:00 AM * * *

As the corporal dashed on her way, Doron turned to gaze horrified at the television, showing New York in flames.

"Here's what we know." proclaimed Avi Rabinovitz. The Intelligence Captain was – unlike Doron – in uniform. He was the head of the desk which focused on U.S. affairs. He was the man who was supposed to forsee this, and he didn’t. He was addressing a group of officers which, like Doron, came in to learn all the information they can get about the disaster for their sections and units. There were officers from the research division, but from other units of the IDF Intelligence as well.

"At 8:45, a passengers airplane crashed into the North tower of the World Trade Center at New York. Eighteen minutes later, another plane crashed into the Southern center. We still have no idea who is behind this attack, but we're diverting all of our efforts – ALL OF THEM – to find out. The foreign relations section already contacted local CIA representatives, but so far no new information was divulged. We don't have information on any similar threats to Israeli-"

At that moment, Doron saw something that made his entire body run cold, as though someone just spilled a bucket of ice on his naked skin.

"Look" was the only thing he could say.

The entire group turned away from Captain Rabinovitz and watched in disbelief as the Southern tower gave up and collapsed into the ground.

"The quick growing up."

Ensign William Warbeck, Tactical

He frowned as he held the guitar close, sitting cross-legged on the bed. This was strange, strange because it all still went around in his head. The confusion, the loss…yet he had his identity back. It was something. He closed his eyes, stroking a note gently. Why was he glad to have it back? The dark spot inside where he sometimes ran to. Why would anyone want that spot?

Because it was his.

He sighed and started to play, tears coming to his eyes. He tried to remember the song that Matthew had sung, and it took him several long moments to remember. “Underneath the harvest moon where the ancient shadows will play and hide, with a ghostly tune and the devil's pride. "Stranger" whispered all the town, has he come to save us from Satan's hand? Leading them away to a foreign land…Play for me minstrel, play and take away our sorrows. Play for me minstrel, play and we'll follow. Hear, listen, can you hear the haunting melody surrounding you, weaving a magic spell all around you. Danger hidden in his eyes, we should have seen it from far away. Wearing such a thin disguise in the light of day. He held the answer to our prayers yet it was too good to be. Proof before our eyes yet we could not see...”

Always so unfair. He stopped to play, taking a breath to collect himself. "There are much bigger things at risk," he whispered to himself, putting the guitar away. "Much bigger things." He got up and wiped his tears, a look of determination coming to him. He’d be damned if he played the weaker party again. Ever.

"As you were"

Ella Grey

****

Engineering was like a disaster zone, no pun intended.

Officers were running around trying to get everything done before the ship arrived at Trill and the long list of to-do's- everything from replicating things that the survivors might need to making sure that all replicators were functioning at top level- made them all resemble a flock of chickens with their heads cut off.

Ella had long given up trying to smile politely at the ensign before her. She'd already sent him three times to help check the shuttlecraft yet he kept coming back to her with a new order requests.

Despite the fact that the Quick Virus was now gone, the USS Galaxy was like any other starship- when disaster struck, everyone's food replicators or sonic showers needed to be repaired.

She shook her head again at the ensign, thankful that she had decided to wear her hair in a fashionable Janeway-Bun-of-Steel for the day. Her uniform was already covered in dirt and wrinkled from a fun jaunt through the Jeffries tubes.

*THEY'LL HAVE TO WAIT* Ella typed on her computer PADD as the man read over her shoulder. *WE HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT THAN SOMEONE'S HYGIENE*

"And then there's this woman who says her food replicator won't replicate eggs." The ensign told her.

*SHE CAN BORROW THEM FROM NEXT DOOR*

"And then there's..." He began before Ella stamped her foot.

*THEY CAN WAIT!!!!* Ella typed. *YOU'RE NEEDED IN THE SHUTTLE BAY. STILL.*

"But," He started and she finally gave in.

"No!" Ella Grey said clearly, or as clear as a robot sounded at any rate. "Shuttles first. Betty Crocker and Mr. Clean later."

In what Ella would later think was coordinated, everyone within her proximity stopped abruptly. Several mouths hung open and those who weren't gaping were making a good show of looking at her in obvious confusion. The ensign next to her did both.

Ella felt herself flush. So much for keeping it a secret. She glared at the ensign since it was all his fault. "Shuttle bay. Now."

He scampered off and Ella was left with a small crowd of people.

Ella lifted her chin. "As you were."

OOC: As Tish goes through her "transformation", her flashbacks should help you understand some of her back story. Enjoy at your own risk/Consumption mileage may vary/Discuss treatment with your doctor first. -- MJ

WARNING: Some graphic/disturbing content. Read at your own discretion.

"Phoenix, Part II"

T'Shani Akledorian

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

Catch me as I fall,
say you’re here and it's all over now

Speaking to the atmosphere,
no one’s here and I fall into myself

This truth drives me,
into madness

I know I can stop the pain,
if I will it all away

If I will it all away...

== Stardate 48905.14 (16 years ago): Raath Mountains, Seltax VII ==

She was cold, shivering. It had been eight hours since her escape from the encampment, where her fathers and mother had been beaten, tortured, and killed. They had even used her for their own pleasure. She had escaped, but not without injury.

After violating her, the General had begun to torture her, as well. When the Planetary Air Guard attempted its bombardment of the original base camp, it provided the needed distraction for her to escape. Having been stripped already, she hadn't the time to grab any clothing; she had run for her life, literally.

She had been up all night, listening and watching for any sign of the treacherous aliens that had come to take this world. It was now approaching dawn. She didn't want to travel in the daytime, but she had to get back to Raath Ra'Chuul and warn the others about the plans she had overheard.

She paused in her breathing, having thought she had heard something. Her uninjured antenna twitched as she sensed the presence of someone--wait, someones--approaching. Quietly, gingerly, she moved to the mouth of the cave. Peeking around a boulder, her eyes confirmed what her other senses had alerted her to.

They were searching. Searching for her.

Closely, she strained to listen, her left antenna straining forward while the right one hung limply over her forehead.

"She's here, I know it, Centurion."

"Subcommander, she could be anywhere by now. In the shape she was in, I'd be surprised if she lasted the night. It gets very cold up here in this mountain forest."

"She's still alive," the first one said adamantly.

"How are you sure?" the second one asked in his gruff voice.

"Her blood trails off," he paused following the purple drops of blood over the ground.

Panicked, she clamped her legs together, hoping that she wasn't still bleeding. She held her breath, not making a sound as the Romulan slowly walked toward the opening of the cave, disruptor drawn.

Silently, she pressed her body into the wall of the cave with all of her might, mentally willing herself to become part of the wall. The Subcommander drew closer... he was headed straight for her! This was it; she would either escape or die. But either way, she'd put up a fierce fight, just like she had when she had escaped.

He was only a meter away...

["Subcommander, this is Base One."]

The Romulan paused, opening his communicator while still holding his disruptor to the ready.

"What is it?!" he snapped, clearly annoyed that his hunt was being interrupted.

["General Tov needs you to return immediately."]

"I am searching for one of the escaped Andorians, Lieutenant! I will return when I have captured her!" he hissed angrily at the communicator as he backed away from T'Shani. She let out a silent sigh of relief.

["The General demands your return, Subcommander. He needs your assistance for the planning of the attack on the capital."]

He snorted in anger and annoyance "Very well, then," the Romulan acquiesced. "Tell the General that I will be there shortly with my Centurion. Tavas, out." He shut the communicator and holstered his weapon.

The Centurion looked up, noticing that Subcommander Tavas had not returned with the girl. "Did you dispose of her, my commander?" he asked, while standing up from the rock he was perched on.

"No, Teval. General Tav needs us back at the base," he finished without expounding, walking toward the meadow.

Centurion Teval followed. "My commander, what of the girl?"

Tavas shrugged, turning back to his Centurion. "What of her, Teval? She is only a small girl, already..." he paused, a cruel smile forming across his face, "*broken* in by the General. She will not survive another night. And if she does, some beast is sure to eat her alive. I am not worried about her." He turned briskly, making his way to the landspeeders they had parked near the edge of the meadow.

Teval hesitated for a moment, before following his commander. "My commander. What if she makes it back to the city? She might tell them of our plan to..."

"Silence, Centurion!" Tavas turned and shouted, his face turning a deep copper-green hue in anger. "Do you question the orders of your commander?!"

Teval did, in fact. But he knew better than to challenge Tavas, on this matter. Bowing his head in appropriate submission, "No, my commander. I do not."

"Good, then..."

*SNAP!*

"What was that?!"

~Rhooz,~ T'Shani swore under her breath from high above the Subcommander, as she lay prone over a thick branch of a Reka tree. It's thick, bushy foliage having hidden her ascent as the two Romulans--"Greenbloods", as her Thuuba called them--argued amongst themselves. She had been just about to pounce on them when she had grabbed a branch next to her, to steady herself, when it had snapped.

Tavas drew his disruptor, its bright green duaranite casing glinting in the rising light of day. She watched, silently, noting that the the reflected sunslight was reflecting in the Centurion's eyes, inadvertently. Now was her chance.

"EEEEEYAAAAAAAIIII!!!" she screamed with all the might of her lungs, leaping from her perch to land solidly on the shoulders of Tavas, knocking him to the ground and causing him to lose his grip on his disruptor, sending it flying to the ground.

Stunned, Tavas tried to get up, watching as Teval drew his weapon.

*BLAM!*

"My commander!"

*SCRRREEEEAAARRRCH!!!*

Tavas watched with a strange sense of awe as the blue-skinned girl grabbed the disruptor, pointed it at his Centurion and pulled the trigger. It had been set to its highest disruption level, causing Teval's molecules to slowly disintegrate into oblivion.

Anger filled Tavas's frame. To be beat by a worthless, naked, Blueskin girl! He rushed at her, arms outstretched. He would rip every limb and antenna from her body!

Again, T'Shani pulled the trigger, a perverse glee filling her soul at the thought of killing this man.

*FIZZLE, POP*

Tavas was almost upon her! She pressed the trigger again, to no avail!

~Ha! She overheated it!~ Tavas thought while tackling her around the waist, sending the now-useless blaster skeeting into the depth of the forest.

"NOOOOO!" she screamed as he pinned her on her back, a hand at her throat, while driving his knee violently into her groin.

"*Nfffgh*," She grunted as his knee connected, instantly sending pain coursing through her body. She could feel blood begin to flow again from between her legs.

Smiling sadistically, he reached for the knife he kept hidden in his boot. It flashed in rays of the morning dawn. "I'll finish you, you little bitch." he sliced the blade across her torso, below her breast and down to her abdomen. She cried out in pain and terror, realizing that this was to be her end, after all.

"But first," he smiled wickedly, once more, "I think I'm going to *enjoy* myself." He removed his knee from between her legs, while picking her up and hoisting her by the neck. He carried her, in this fashion, to a nearby tree. Once there, he threw her against the tree's trunk, pinning her between it and himself.

Panting for breath, and weak from exhaustion, she could only cry as held the knife to her throat, hastily disrobed himself, and entered...

== Stardate 50502.25 (The present): Undisclosed Location ==

"She's crashing!"

"Stat's are down, beginning CPR!"

"Get her back, now!"

The OR was in chaos as nurses and doctors rushed around the convulsing body of the Andorian woman. Daniels watched from an overhead observation theater. Turning to his "colleague"--at least, in this time-dimension--he frowned.

"What is happening, Gary?"

The man next to him was quickly trying to read over the holomonitors in the observation room. "It appears that the wipe isn't as easy, with this one."

Daniels remained calmed and professional on the outside. But inside, he was quite worried for T'Shani. He couldn't lose her; it had taken them so long to find her. "Explain," he commanded, but quietly.

"Not all the memory engrams are easy to extract and/or suppress. Some engrams, especially those of very traumatic memories, are deeply layered in the subcortex; their removal may interfere with some of her higher cognitive and mobile functions."

"Can you still save her?"

'Gary' frowned, while watching the doctors and nurses below. "Only time will tell, Agent."

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

Lyrics from "Whisper"
Composed by Amy Lee and Ben Moody
Performed by Evanescence
From the album "Fallen"
Published by Wind-Up Records, (c) 2003

"The Rumor of the Talking Mute"

Ensign 8-ball Hunter

As the Galaxy made it's way to Trill, the news of the the alien world's devestation had been spreading around the ship quickly, from one person to another at the speed of light, or at the speed of mating tribbles, whichever one was faster. However, as the news began to slowly die down, a new rumor began. . .one of far more personal consequence to 8-ball.

At the time of the new rumor, 8-ball was busy doing something she really very rarely did: working. And really working, too, not just kind of playing around in the science labs. You could just look at her working and actually use the adjective 'diligent' to describe it. It was a strange thing. None of the other science officers understood it, but they decided not to comment because like everyone else on Galaxy, they were all extremely busy.

It was mostly because of what had happened on Trill that 8-ball was paying attention to work at all. Since that annoying ensign had burst into her room to tell her what had happened, 8-ball had been feeling particularly useless and she didn't like it. She knew there wasn't a lot she could do at the moment to help anybody on Trill. She didn't even think that when she got to the planet she was going to be of much use. But she still had this annoying, nagging feeling like she was supposed to be doing something, along with an even more annoying feeling of guilt that she was alive and safe and at least mostly happy. Therefore, to curb these irritating feelings, 8-ball was trying out the whole working diligently thing. It was kind of weird, and she wasn't sure how long she would keep up with it.

It was suggested that the counselors on the Galaxy would have a more productive time helping the survivors through their grief if they knew a little more about the Trill lifestyle. As 8-ball wasn't particularly comfortable around Trills, she had never bothered to learn much about it, only enough to get her by as being the anthro kid in the science department. Now, as 8-ball researched about Trill family lifestyles and household arrangements, a lieutenant walked up to her and said, "Have you heard?"

8-ball looked up at her in surprise. The lieutenant in question was a roughly the same age as her, noticeably more organized and orderly, and ultimately didn't look like a fun person to hang out with. 8-ball had the vague idea that her name was Kathy or Kate or something, but they didn't talk much, if at all. The girl worked mostly in the organic chemistry department and seemed to have freakish joy about her work, as if this was a fun thing to do. 8-ball frowned at her.

"Heard what?" 8-ball asked. This couldn't be about Trill. Everyone and their dog knew about that now.

"Well, you know that mute who works in Engineering? I think she's the assistant chief, or something."

8-ball shrugged. "Sure, Ella."

"Yeah, her." Kathy-Kate failed to note that 8-ball was on a first name basis with the engineer. "She's the freakshow that wouldn't talk because she got attacked or something like that a long time ago, right? Well, get this: she's talking again."

At first, 8-ball didn't hear the significant part of this news. All she heard was the word 'freakshow' and was wondering if starting a fight with this organic chemistry lover would ruin her chances of being called a good worker for the day. She began to tell this woman that she could take her obviously bleached hair and shove it up her obviously tight ass when she stopped. And blinked. Twice.

"What?"

"Yeah," Kathy-Kate said. "Though it's not like her real voice or anything. Apparantly, she got some implant or something because now her voice is all mechanical, like a computer. Which is totally weird, if you ask me: why get some procedure done when you can use your own voice. I mean, it's not like she lost it or anything. Or did she. . .I really don't know the details."

8-ball stared at Kathy-Kate. She blinked three more times.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, yeah," Kathy-Kate said. "My friend's roomate's brother works down in engineering, and he saw the whole thing. I'm glad I don't work in engineering. I wouldn't want to work with that weirdo."

Though still in a strange state of shock, 8-ball began to notice the offensiveness of Kathy-Kate. 8-ball glared at her. "That weirdo is my friend, so if you want to shut the hell up any time in the near future, like now, it'd, you know, really be appreciated."

Kathy-Kate opened her mouth but couldn't seem to come up with a good comeback and settled at staring at 8-ball, who had long since forgotten trill culture. Abruptly, she stood up and left the PADD she was reading on the table. "Where are you going?" Kathy-Kate asked.

"I've got to talk to Ella," 8-ball said. "How could she do this and not tell me about it? I'm totally going to have to kick her ass."

"Are you really mad at her?"

8-ball thought about it. "Actually, no," she said. "Not really. I'm not surprised she didn't mention anything to me. That's not really Ella's style. But that's not the point at all."

Kathy-Kate looked confused. "What is the point?"

8-ball looked at her incredulously. "Ella's TALKING again. The VOLUNTARY MUTE is suddenly TALKING. That's kind of big news, you know, and obviously requires a couple of dacquiris or a few ice cream sundaes and a friendship gab fest about what's changed and what's going to happen and how this is going to impact her life, her soul, and her ongoing torment with Vicky the studmuffin. I mean, it's sort of a necessary human ritual. Don't you have any friends at all?"

Kathy-Kate again was struck speechless. 8-ball, not really interested in whatever Kathy-Kate would have to say anyway, began to head for the door. "Um, but T'Pol. . ." Kathy-Kate said.

"8-ball," 8-ball said, ignoring her.

"Fine, 8-ball then, you can't just go now."

"Why not?"

It was Kathy-Kate's turn to look increduous. "You're on duty," Kathy-Kate said. "You can't just leave. It's. . .it's. . .it's un-Starfleet like."

8-ball shrugged. "You know, sometimes I wonder how I got into Starfleet at all," she said. "Tell Heloi I'll be back in twenty minutes. I have to go run a very important, mission specific errand."

"But that's a lie!"

"Only if you look at it in a certain way," 8-ball said. "From my point of view, it's completely true. I do have a mission specific errand."

"How is your talking to that weirdo going to have any impact on Trill?"

8-ball thought about it. "Approximately, if you round up a percent or two, carry the one, multiply it by 600. . .about none. I never said that was my mission."

"Then what's your mission?" Kathy-Kate asked, confused at this strange ensign she was talking to.

"To find out a