"Preparations"

Dr Klaus Fienberg, CMO
Dr Andrei Vronsky, Medical Officer

Andrei Vronsky wiped his forhead quickly, grimacing at the feel of tension in his shoulders. He was stressed, but they had the right to be. Preparing sickbay for wounded never was an easy job. He moved to the CMO, meeting his eyes. "Biobeds prepared, doctor...the nurses are all on stand-by."

"Good. Hail cargobay 3 and find out if our emergency equipment is where it's supposed to be." Klaus rushed around with a PaDD in hand. They would be at Trill very soon, and they needed to be ready yesterday.

"Right," Andrei said, leaning against the wall to be out of thw way. "Cargobay 3, this is Dr Vronsky. Where the bloody hell is the emergency equipment?" he waited for the reply, nodding to himself. "Then beam it over. Where? I don't know...wait, one of the examination rooms ought to do. Yes, find an empty one, beam it over there and I'll go through it. Vronsky out." He moved to the CMO, walking to his side. "Want me to sort the emergency kit out, ready for use, or get one of the nurses to do it?"

"Yes...I'll prep "Dr. Axl's" mobile emitter array." Klaus quickly rushed into his office.

Andrei nodded, checking where the equipment had been beamed. He walked in, frowning at the amount of stuff before letting out a breath. "Might use the nurse after all," he muttered, but started working nevertheless. After all, he didn't have much time. None of them had.

"Just hurry. I want to have a pre-arrival meeting with the counselling staff before we arrive on the surface." Dr. Axl started walking around, assisting within the range of his somewhat cumberson, yet mobile, emmitter arrary. Klaus rushed out, talking to a nurse.

Andrei took a breath, nodding before starting to sort the equipment out. Some things you just had to do, no matter what happened. After all, this was serious.

"Marines on Patrol"

2nd. Lt. Jebidiah Baile,
Recon Specialist, USS Galaxy
Pvt. 1st Cl. Sorak,
Sniper, USS Galaxy, -NPC
Dr. Niya Mera -Trill Doctor, NPC
Jerel Aries, -NPC

Contrary to what many believed Marines preferred to leave without much bang. They simply read the briefing, nothing out of the ordinary - secure lz's, look for munitions, check the area for troublemakers and assist the rescue teams where possible.

They got divided into pairs, with order to keep in contact every 30 minutes to keep the communication down to a minimum. The air was already crammed with broadcasts. No reason to push encrypted marine chatter through it.

They loaded up in the shuttle, some excited, some focused. But one of them fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down.

Pvt 1st Sorak was teamed up with Baile. Looking over at the human male the Vulcan raised a eyebrow. "I believe you and I will be working together, Sir." He said in true Vulcan form. "Might I inquire what it is you will require of me since you are my superior commander?" He asked.

Baile opened one eye and looked at the Vulcan. Just his bloody luck to get teamed up with a Vulcan. "Sit down, be quiet and let me sleep... we won't hit dirt in another 30 minutes."

Sorak did as he was asked and sat back down. The minutes passed by fairly quickly. During that time Sorak took the time to meditate on the situation at hand. However the Vulcan was plagued with a problem, of which he could get to answer. Why was Baile hair cut like that. It served no purpose, it wasn't that fashionable, not that a Vulcan would care about things, but it puzzled him non the less.

The recon specialist really was sounds asleep when the shuttle landed. As arranged they landed away from the rescue ships, not wanting to get in their way. Getting up to his feet Baile yawned and scratched his head before putting on the hat and the sunglasses.

The stench of burnt flesh, scorched metal, dust and the distinct smell of ash slammed straight into them as the boarding hatch opened. It was nothing he hadn't smelled before. Burning flesh smelled the same no matter what had been burning. Baile watched the others out of the corner of his eyes, judging their reactions. He came to the conclusion he didn't give a rats ass what they felt and stepped outside, eyes protected from the dust by his sunglasses.

For a Vulcan the smell was pungent, but writher it bothered him or not never appeared on his face. Keeping his face neutral, he followed Baile off the ramp as he did not put on sunglasses. Living on Vulcan, the eyes were used to intense sun.

It would be a safe bet that there would be some pretty strong winds in the area soon. Something as big as this, with the heat that had been involved, tossed around the airflows a lot. And violent air meant strong winds. Strong winds meant storms. Baile checked the padd and took out the bearing and started walking, holding the gun at the ready with the safety off.

Pulling his marine issued tricorder Sorak began to walk behind Baile. Bringing up his gun, he clipped the tricorder to it to show him where lifesigns were. "You are new to the Galaxy, might I inquire where was your last station was?" The Vulcan asked.

Holding up a small binocular Baile checked the area. "Near the Cardassian border.. cleared out rebels." he replied, still scanning the area. Satisfied with what he had seen he put it away.

"Fascinating." Sorak replied as he began to sweep his rifle from side to side. "rumor has it you were working under intelligence shield for some time, is that correct?" Sorak asked as they began to walk again.

"I don't listen to rumors.." Baile replied and adjusted the backpack.

Sorak nodded and then stopped. "I am registering life signs, group formation. Just over in that direction." He reported.

Baile pulled out the binocular again. After a few seconds he shrugged. "Not our concern."

Sorak looked up with a raised eye brow. He then began walking again. He said nothing else as he looked around and then ever so often looked at the tricorder. Moving along at a steady pass, he was careful not to step on anything since he wasn't sure the place was secured or not.

Fifteen minutes later they reached the designated area. It had been deemed solid enough to accept heavier loads than the current drop points, but it was still debated if it was secure or not. That's where the marines came in.

There was bound to be strong emotions - panic, anger, desperation - among the survivors. Some would take any chance they could to get away from the disaster area. It wasn't rational. It wasn't evil. It was just plain survival instinct. Every species had it, and no race walked away from a catastrophe of that magnitude unhurt.

"It is quiet." Sorak stated, as they stood there.

"So far.. " the veteran replied. "When they see the shuttles hit dirt they'll come running... " He pointed towards a house that had almost collapsed. "There."

Turning the Vulcan turned his direction to where Bale had pointed. "You correct." He replied. "How will keep civil order, Sir?" He asked.

Stifling a yawn the marine checked his rifle. "If anyone has a firearm you tell them to drop it. If they point it towards you - drop them." He held the rifle at the ready and started walking. "Other than that - use that calculator of a brain you have..."

Sorak knew that most Terrans didn't mean to be insulting, though with Baile he had a intuition that the Terran did indeed want to be insulting. "As you wish.." He replied then turned to survey the area once more.

Clearing the first landing zone took less that ten minutes. They called in medics for the injured people they located, but didn't stick around long. They had a lot of ground to cover and unless they hurried up more people would get hurt. But the terrain was treacherous, with buildings threatening to collapse, scared and injured people coming up to them, asking for their help. They didn't have orders to help them, but tried to assist them as quickly as they could - but it was no where enough. "One death is a tragedy... a million is statistics... " Baile said in a low voice as the duo paused for a minute.

Sorak was walking with Baile when he noticed a frantic woman, hindering the aid of a medic. Moving over, he brought his hand up and give her the Vulcan nerve pinch. Easing her down he looked at the medic. "That should hold her until you can get her some medical attention." He said, then rose and began to catch up with Baile.

The smell seemed to get the better of many. Baile saw more than one turn the stomach inside out as they smelled the burning flesh, the thick odor of hair on fire. As they passed a medical unit, where several of them looked ready to drop Baile stopped. "You there.... " he pointed at one of them.

"What?" voice said, though the figure didn't turn to the marine.

He walked up behind Sorak, telling him to stand still, and searched the outer pockets of the backpack until he found what he was looking for. A tube of toothpaste. "Put this under your nose.... " he advised and tossed the tube on the ground next to them. "It'll keep the smell out.."

Turning to the man the woman looked haggard, her hands was blooding. "Look, I mean no disrespect, but how I feel, and the need to constantly throw up, just has to take a back seat..." she said, trying her best not hang on to a sense of control. "I've got people dying here....." She said, sounded like she was about to drop herself. She wasn't Starfleet, she just some Trill doctor who have willing came down here in the worst area to give aid, she wouldn't be remembered for it, she was just faceless person, working with heaven wouldn't go.

"Suit yourself... " Baile replied, not really caring what she decided to do. "Sooner or later you'll end up puking your guts out... better later than sooner.." he continued and closed Sorak's backpack again.

"Mera... we've got another one over here..." a man said, helping another Trill man. "He's a joined Trill, Aries... Jerel Aries... looks like he's been stabbed with something."

"Yes... I was. There is disturbance down the street. Protest, someone stabbed me in the side." Jerel said. Mera looked at it. "Get him to the transport side, beam him up to one of the hospital ships."

The marine stopped and turned around, the rifle at the ready. He made a quick sign to Sorak to keep his eyes on the surrounding area. "Jerel Aries?" Baile asked with his usual unfriendly voice.

"Yes... do I know you friend?" He said, as he held a hand over his wound. He eyes searched the marine, he knew the horrors a marine saw, his past lives there was marine and it was one of the hardest memories Jere had ever had to live with.

Baile walked up to him, pulling out a first aid kit. "No, sir... but I was asked to look for you." Without much ceremony or warning he slapped the bandage over the wound. "Keep pressing... we'll get you over to one of the lz's."

Aries groaned from the slap to his wound. It took his breath. "Who... asked... about me?" He asked.

Sorak watched without saying a word. Then continued to survey the area, watching for any disturbance.

"Some dumbass engineer... maybe an old squeeze... " he replied, insulting him to get Jerel's mind of the pain.

"First Drop"

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

Location: Trill, Levan Central Business District

The transporter sent down the Galaxy crewmen to a devastated city.

The Trill capital was once a pristine, beautiful city; as meticulously maintained as most Federation capitals (maybe even moreso). It once had alabaster stone buildings, towers of shining glass, metal sculpture, emerald green parks, streets of old asphalt or cobblestone, and throngs of people going about their various daily lives. All of this used to be under a sky, mostly blue and partially decorated with fluffy clouds as dictated by the weather control satellites, and sometimes rainy or snowy depending on the local environment's needs.

That was before the Akula blasted through the atmosphere, in two pieces, and crashed through the capital with blatant disregard for the idyllic Federation city.

Now there was a furrow of earth brown gouged deep through the city's centre, leaving behind it a churned mess of warped pipes, crumbled sewers and pulverized foundations with twisted durasteel beams. Glass towers and stone building alike were knocked aside like bowling pins by a warp powered starship, until there were nothing but jagged stumps that once held corporations, businesses, and shopping establishments. Those building that were not in the direct path of the crashing starship were ruined skeletons devoid of their shining window panes. The sonic boom from the vessel's high speed shattered nearly every piece of glass in the city, injuring scores of people in the maelstrom of razor sharp pieces. Now the glass was littered all over the city among rubble chunks and metal machines, reflecting in millions of tiny crystal pieces a sun hazed by the black smoke of countless fires.

The mood of the city was shock. There was too much for the average Trill civilian to take in. On top of surviving a disaster, one had to deal with the sights of their once familiar city turned to ruin, their friends, co-workers and neighbours missing or dead. Some helped in wailing desperation to dig through the rubble beside dour silent firefighters and policemen in a slim hope of finding their loved ones, or were shambling like the living dead, cradling wounds while staring at particularly nothing with wide, unfocused eyes, the plethora of tragedies freezing their overwhelmed minds in indecision and fright.

Levan Manera was destroyed, on fire, ruined.

And James Corgan was in the main business district, the first wave of Starfleet officers from the Galaxy to arrive on the scene at the capital's main business district. The ship crashed some time during the planet's lunch hour rush, where workers were milling about the streets to reach eateries and parks. The sonic boom of the starship broke buildings and threw debris and bodies around, leaving scores of dead and wounded.

"GET A MOVE ON!" Corgan ordered the rest of the officers, including a healthy contingent of his security deputies, with the practiced discipline of a soldier constantly under fire. He had to yell loudly over the din of wailing police and rescue sirens, "Get the equipment ready! Get some refugee and medical tents set up! Check with the local authorities before procuring any shelter! MOVE!"

The first action, so James was taught, in any disaster area was to set up temporary camps to care for the displaced. Tents had to be erected for shelter and facilities. Equipment had to be brought down, replicators, water, triage and surgery equipment. Disaster area needed a temporary infrastructure, and as much as James wanted to feel more useful by digging through the rubble first, camp was more important.

James made the mistake of taking a look around instead of burying himself in his task. He saw a city as devastated as colonial cities during the Dominion War. Unlike a phaser barraged, torpedo blasted landscape, this damage was a clean swath through the city. But then again, at least war gave a modicum of an excuse.

What was the reason behind this, James dared to ask whatever God was listening. War had a reason, albeit a wasted one, but this disaster appeared to be totally random. A true act of God that smote a city and left it in a rapt silence, it's only voice wailing, moaning and the sirens of emergency vehicles. A ship out of nowhere. Nobody knew why... yet. And even if the answer was known, James could still not wrap around his mind as to why?

How was easy. Why came to the 'act of god' conclusion, and it seemed to James limited human scope that if it was a semi-random act predestined by a deity, it was to be grossly excessive in proving whatever point said deity had in mind. It was a cruel act that served to either tear people apart, or make them angry.

Either way, did it not serve to turn people's back's from God?

James shook the dark thought out of his head. ~"Hell of a time to be self indulgent. I don't have the luxury of thinking how much of a cocksucker my Catholic mother's God can be. I have a lot of work to do."~

The first person James had to find was one of the local authorities, a director of the local disaster assistance group. The Trillian disaster chief was in meeting with yellow suited firefighters, pointing to sights like a leader does when disaster strikes. He had an intense, aged face like a leather mask, wrinkling even his Trill spots. Dust splotched his deep blue uniform. He saw James Corgan approaching in his clean Starfleet uniform, and waved over.

"You must be the Starfleet guys I was told to expect." The Trill greeted grimly, "I'm Teron Kestra, Trill Disaster Relief Agency."

"Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, Security Chief of the USS Galaxy. Wish we could have meet under better circumstances." James offered a handshake.

Kestra took the hand and shook it without hesistation. "Well thank you for coming. Your ship is the closest one in three sectors. I'm just glad to have you here."

"Well if it's all the same." James momentarily surveyed the wreckage of the downtown core, "I would like to get started. Where can we set up?"

"There is a park nearby. The buildings here are very unstable. I wouldn't set up facilities in the streets. At least the park is cleared aside from a few people." Fatigue etched the face of the rescue worker.

James responded, "Thank you. Anything else you need?"

"Food and water is ok, but we need people and support. We can send the resources of the whole planet to this one city, but we only have so many transporter pads, doctors, engineers and bodies to do the search." He halted after saying 'search', pausing as if almost willing himself not to say an even more morbid word, "All of our transporters are too busy ferrying out wounded and bringing in supplies and people. Our shuttles and spacecraft are also utilized, but it's just... too damn much. Ask your Captain to put that fancy ship of his to work, and maybe a few shuttles to do some gruntwork too."

"I'll put that request in. I can't say with 100% authority..." James sighed. He found himself looking at the ruins again, and was even more weighted down by the enormity of the disaster, "...but you can ask for the uniform off his back and he'll give it to you. How can you not after seeing this?"

"Some might even cheer, Lieutenant." Kestra grumbled, "But they're not people I'd want to beg help from. I'll let you get to your work. Maybe we'll talk later."

"Aye. I hope we will." James motivation was not just a conversation. He had a sweetheart, albeit one that cornered him into it, but a sweetheart nonetheless, somewhere on Trill. James didn't know what sector of the city she was in; much less whether or not she was ok. But a selfish request to find her had to take a backseat to immediate concerns, which were a camp and a search for survivors.

There was a lot of work to do.

His affection and the bias that it brought would have to wait.

"Mr Kestra!" Called out a female in a rich, Old World accent.

"Wait, Mr. Corgan!" James halted at Kestra's request, "I might as well get this introduction out of the way. We also have a presence from an agency from Earth. Mr. Corgan, meet Sister Paretti. She is the liason to the Red Cross."

James came face to face with a nun, appearing to be torn from the past and into this disaster. She was dressed like a Catholic nun, as close to appearances of James' late mom described, in a black, full covering dress with white trim and shoulder muffler, and a black coif that covered her hair and some of her olive, Mediterranean borne skin. A silver rosary hung from the neck as a plain, modest decoration to an otherwise tasteful (if drab) religious uniform. She too was mottled in dirt, and curls of her dark hair poked out of her headpiece, but otherwise kept a disciplined calm.

The Red Cross was no longer as powerful as it used to be, thanks to the Federation doing most of it's own aide. People from the old Earth churches still supported the institution, and sometimes donated their time to help. Paretti looked like a volunteer. The Vatican was still alive despite it's irrelevance in human culture in the 24th century, and they still sent their share as promised.

Paretti was one of those offworld missionaries, whom aliens ignored but nonetheless didn't argue when they offered aide.

"Officer Corgan. Thank god your people have arrived." Paretti politely bowed her head.

"Ma'am." James kept his response curt and dignified. Nuns were hard to talk to due to their rumoured prudish stance on nearly everything.

Paretti didn't skip a beat. "Mr. Kestra, there is a problem at the church. We are being overloaded by the injured and dead. We need some help."

"Don't worry about it." Kestra tried to calm the urgent nun, though she seemed more composed than he, "Starfleet is going to take some of the pressure off. They have doctors and everything. You'll have less wounded, but transport is a different problem. We don't have enough vehicles. The wheeled and tracked vehicles we have are useless in this rubble, and there are not enough anti grav vehicles to go around, and the transporters are all tied up with people still stuck in the rubble. I'm sorry, we're trying, we really are."

"Then I will be patient, god willing." Paretti answered, resigned.

"I can send something." James interrupted.

Paretti and Kestra paused. Paretti looked especially hopeful. "The Argo would be able to traverse this area, and we have shuttles. I'll send one your way. Just give me the co-ordinates."

"Really?" Paretti folded her hands together, close to her heart and rosary, "Thank you so much, Officer. The address is 1264, Grid 9."

"You're welcome, ma'am." Corgan nodded, "But if you don't mind, I have to go. Let me know if you all need anything else. I have to get back to work."

"Then I will leave you to it." Paretti responded, "Mr. Kestra, Mr. Corgan." She bowed out, running back to the church.

Corgan went to the park, beckoning his officers to follow. He tapped his badge and said, "Corgan to Galaxy. Send the supplies to the central park area, and bring down the Argo as well. Oh, and have a shuttle ready to fly to address 1264, Grid 9, downtown business district. There's wounded gathering in that area, and they need to be evacuated to any nearby medical facilities."

"Galaxy to Corgan. Acknowledged. We will send your requests right away." The ops officer on the other side crackled.

With that, James set to work. He didn't want to think much of the disaster, but the scope was too hard to ignore.

It was just too damn big. Too much destruction.

OOC: This is my last pre-"Arrival" post.

"Overflow"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

Location: The Arts District of Leran Manev
Time: About two hours before the Galaxy's arrival

Eytan brought a hand up to his face and covered his mouth as he coughed. Despite all of Leran Manev's damage control efforts, many of the fires still raged and the smoke continued to stifle Eytan and the others working in the area. He and a small group of Trill med-techs were out on yet another search for more survivors of the crash; even though it had been nearly a day, people--or bodies--continued to turn up in droves. But this time they hadn't found anyone, and Eytan wasn't sure if he should have been relieved or terrified by that.

"I just can't believe this is happening to us," one of the Trills lamented, not for the first time or the last, as he looked around at the ruined buildings surrounding the search team.

Eytan nodded as he wiped some of the smoke and grime from his face. "Me neither," he replied quietly. "But I can promise that whoever did this will pay. Once the Galaxy gets here they'll begin a full investigation--hell, they probably already have--and figure out who it was, and they will bring them to justice. And Leran Manev will rebuild and prosper again." But that didn't make the doctor feel any better about the staggering loss of life that had occurred--was *still* occurring--because of the actions of what were probably only a few people. ~It's hard to say it, but at least they didn't use a bigger ship,~ Eytan mused. ~That could have destroyed a larger portion of Leran Manev, or even the entire city. And I probably would have been killed, too.~ He hated to admit that he was happy that he had lived while so many other people around him were dying, but it was a natural instinct. Nobody, not even the Klingons, actively sought the end of their own existence.

He fought down a yawn and slowly rolled his head around, stretching his neck muscles as he ran a scanner around the area he and the med-techs had paused in. The opportunity to sleep had come rarely to Eytan in the last twenty-four hours, and he'd only had the time to take a few naps of no more than twenty or thirty minutes each; hardly enough time to rest his body, but it was all the time he dared to take for himself right now with so many people needing his help.

Finally his scanner picked up what looked like a faint life sign, but couldn't be completely sure because of interference from the leftovers of the crash--not to mention that whoever it was, they were barely registering. Still, Eytan couldn't take the chance that it was nothing. "This way," he said to the others before leading them down what used to be a junction between two larger streets. Now it was a smoking remnant, covered with ash and debris, making it perilous for anyone to walk through. Eytan and the others chose their steps carefully as they made their way toward the life sign. Eventually they came upon the ruins of what looked to have been one of the many art museums, its support structure cracked and crumbling. Eytan glanced up at what was left of the interior, which looked like it could collapse at any moment, and then looked around to the sides of the building.

"There's no way we can get around this," a Trill med-tech complained as her gaze followed Eytan's.

Eytan sighed and looked down at the scanner again. "Well, whoever this is, they're on the other side," he said, gesturing to the partially collapsed museum with his scanner. "We have to get to them fast!"

"How?" the same med-tech questioned. "There doesn't seem to be a safe way through that, and it could take us a long time to find a way around it!"

"We have to go through it, otherwise we might get to that person too late to save them," Eytan responded, turning to face the Trills. He looked back at the ruins. "We find an opening, and then we go through one at a time. As soon as whoever goes makes it across to the other side, they signal the rest of us, and then someone else starts through it."

The med-techs all looked at each other. "Who's going to go first?" asked one of them, expectantly.

Eytan sighed and rubbed at his scar as he looked at the wreckage of the museum. He turned back to the med-techs. "I'll go. This is my crazy idea anyway, better that I get crushed beneath hundreds of tons of stone, metal and glass because of it than any of you," he said, giving them a half-grin. When they simply stared blankly at him, he frowned. "Right. Let's move."

After searching the ground floor, or what was left of it, for a few minutes, they found a small opening that looked like it would lead all the way through the wreckage. Eytan walked inside without hesitation, and was immediately aware of the claustrophobic effect of the collapsed area. He was forced to walk at a half-crouch in order to fit, and that coupled with the uneven surface, the deepening darkness as he ventured farther in, and the heat and smoke from nearby fires choking the air, made the journey very uncomfortable. Fortunately he was able to find light at the end of the tunnel fairly quickly, and his pace quickened as he tried to get back outside as quickly as possible. Suddenly he heard a loud explosion coming from somewhere outside, and the tunnel shook around him. Eytan reflexively lifted his arms above himself, knowing they wouldn't exactly provide much protection should the building cave in on him, and then tapped his combadge. "This is Eytan. What the hell was that?!"

["One of ... buil ... ploded!"] came the garbled reply from one of the med-techs still outside, the noise from the explosion drowning part of it out.

Eytan glanced up as the building rumbled again. "Oh, shit," he mumbled. Clearly the explosion had been close enough to affect the building he happened to be walking beneath right at that moment. ~Time to move, Eytan!~ He started hurrying through the cramped passage, slipping on rocks and shrapnel and shards of glass occasionally. "The building's about to collapse!" he screamed into the combadge. "Move away!" He was about eight feet away from the exit when he heard the foundation behind him collapse, and then the floors above collapsing one by one onto each other, their combined weight stressing the floor above Eytan and bringing it down onto the ground floor. Eytan leapt forward, trying to dive out of the exit just before the entire museum collapsed on top of him, but at that moment his foot landed on a loose piece of flooring and his ankle twisted. He let out a yelp of pain as he dove awkwardly out of the tunnel, hitting the ground outside hard and rolling for a few feet. Smoke and dust exploded out of the hole he had just come out of, covering the Brenari in a layer of it, and his coughs were intermingled with gasps and hisses as he forced himself to sit up and examine his ankle.

"Please don't be broken," he begged as he tenderly felt around the ankle, eliciting a few winces as his fingers pressed against tender flesh and cartilage. When he found that all of the bones were still in place, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Just a sprain," he said quietly as he forced himself up onto his feet, testing the wounded ankle by placing all of his weight on that foot. Pain shot up his leg and he stumbled slightly, forcing himself to take a few small, careful steps. After a few heartbeats most of the pain subsided. ~At least I can walk,~ he thought before tapping his combadge again. "Eytan to search team. Are you all okay?" he asked.

["We're alright,"] one of them responded. ["That was a hell of a collapse, though! I'm glad you made it out of there in time."]

"That makes two of us," Eytan grunted. "Listen, there doesn't seem to be any way for you to follow me, so you're going to have to find some way around. I'll keep searching the area for whoever my scanner was picking up earlier."

["But, Eytan, what if they were somewhere in that building?"] the med-tech asked. ["You said you were getting some interference, maybe the location was off."]

Eytan frowned and brought his scanner back up, sweeping the area. The life sign was still registering, much closer now than it was before. "No, they're still alive," he confirmed. "Just try to get here as soon as you can." With that he started to gingerly make his way toward the person, watching his steps to avoid injuring himself any more. "Hello?" he called out in the hope that whoever it was could still talk, though nobody responded.

Finally he came upon the person his scanner was picking up, and he came up short as he saw who it was. "Mazrin?!" he cried out in surprise. His friend was lying half-buried beneath a pile of metal and rubble, and he was eerily quiet. "Mazrin!" Eytan said again, louder as he stumbled to the Trill doctor's side and pulled out his medical tricorder, clearing some of the rubble off of Mazrin before scanning him with the tricorder. "How in the name of all the gods did you get this far away from the crash site?" he wondered as he scanned his friend. When he saw the numerous injuries to Doctor Nox's body, he cringed inwardly. Scores of lacerations covered most of Mazrin's body, and he had many pieces of rock and metal buried inside him. But the worst was a long piece of metal, almost three feet in length, had impaled Mazrin through his side and had probably destroyed his liver and part of his stomach before exiting his other side. It had also damaged the pouch cocooning the Nox symbiont within Mazrin; the symbiont's isoboramine levels were dropping rapidly and it probably wouldn't survive for a couple of minutes at the most.

Eytan looked down at Mazrin's face and shook his head slowly, his jaw working. He knew that there was likely no way he could save either him or the Nox symbiont, but he had to try. He opened his medikit and began pulling out surgical instruments when he felt a hand on his arm.

"No," Mazrin Nox wheezed, his voice barely audible. His eyes searched for a moment before finally looking upon Eytan. "Too...late..."

Eytan shook his head defiantly. "No. No, Mazrin, I've got to save you!" he protested, gently brushing the Trill's arm aside. He started bringing an anabolic protoplaser up to Mazrin, but was halted by the Trill once again.

"No," Nox repeated, his voice becoming clearer and his tone firming. "Leave me be. It's too late." He slowly reached a hand out, holding it open for Eytan to grasp.

It took Eytan a moment to understand what Mazrin wanted, and he blinked back tears as he pulled one of his gloves off. Mazrin Nox was the only friend he'd really had since he left Voyager; he wasn't ready to let him go. But he and Mazrin both knew that there was no possible way to save him or Nox now. He sighed and slowly took the Trill's hand in his own, grasping it tight. "Goodbye," he whispered.

Suddenly Eytan's mind was bombarded with thoughts of pain, fear, and acceptance. A thousand different emotions and memories flooded his mind and mingled with his own. He saw someone handing him a degree from the Trill Science Academy, dated 2243, and a sense of accomplishment washed through him. Then she was suddenly holding a newborn Trill baby in her arms, her heart overflowing with love for her new daughter. She looked up at her husband, who was having a hard time deciding whether or not he should be smiling or fainting. And then he was in the San Francisco of more than sixty years ago, looking on in pride as his classmates were graduated from Starfleet Academy one by one, followed by himself, and then finally Eytan couldn't take anymore and he fell away with a gasp, his hand slipping from Mazrin's, and the connection was broken.

Eytan's eyes squeezed shut and he cradled his head in his hands as he struggled to contain the new thoughts and memories now invading his mind. After several moments, each one feeling about as long as a typical Brenari lifespan, the memories subsided and Eytan regained control of himself. He could still feel them inside his mind, but they were now pushed to the back. He sighed and shook his head slowly, and then stood, gazing down at Mazrin. It took Eytan a few seconds to realize that he was looking at a corpse, and as the realization hit him he stumbled backward, away from the body, crying out as his injured ankle gave way over a rock and he fell on his back. His ankle twinged, and he lay there for a few minutes before sitting up, wiping at the tears now rolling down his face.

He tapped his combadge. "Eytan to search team," he said weakly, his voice broken with grief and from the effort he'd made to control his own mind. "I found him..."

["And?"] one of the med-techs responded a few moments later. ["Is he alright?"]

Eytan shook his head slowly. "He's gone. I couldn't save him; his injuries were too great."

["Do you have any idea who he was?"]

He hesitated before responding. "Doctor Mazrin Nox," he finally said. There was silence on the other end; they all knew who Nox was, and knew that Eytan had befriended him. Eytan sighed. "Listen, I hurt my ankle pretty bad while getting out of that building collapse, and I can barely walk. Just...get here as quick as you can," he said before ending the communication. As the sudden silence of the area surrounded him, Eytan stared at Mazrin's body. After more than eight years of holding back his tears, he suddenly found that he couldn't do it anymore and he buried his face in his hands as he began to cry, finally overcome by all of the anger and grief and the pain that he had kept bottled up for so long.

"What was he to do? - the musings of a politican"

Senate Building, Romulus

It was certainly a rainy night.

General Omar gazed absent-mindedly at the water droplets splattering the ornate windows of his office. As Proconsul, he had the second most secure office on the entire planet – the only person having more protection being the Praetor, leader of the Rihannusu people.

It was his third month as Proconsul, and his most difficult. Since his glorious appointment by the Empress, he had done everything he possibly could to push his radical reforms through. But it was difficult, especially when half the senate resisted it as fiercely as they could. Especially that veruul Savar – father of the infamous traitor yet a charismatic senator. He had continually spoken out against Omar. And now the Proconsul was worried.

Especially since he had no idea how long he had in office.

In theory, the senate and Proconsul were hereditary titles – once someone was elected to the position, they passed it onto their children and kept it their entire lives. Only the Praetor was exempt from this – he or she was elected every several years by the senate.

But in reality it was very different – unpopular senators were simply voted off by the rest of the senate, or (rarely) assassinated if they were especially difficult to remove. This meant that the positions of senators were by no means secure – if they were incompetent they would simply be removed. Only an especially able and likeable senator would pass his title onto his children, who in turn would only remain as senators if they possessed the necessary attributes.

Of course, the senate could be “persuaded” to remove one of their own in order to create space for a new senator – such had been the case with the general’s son, Ramir Omar.

The same applied for Proconsul – except that (since they were the chairperson of the senate) he or she would be especially difficult to remove. Therefore many senators simply waited for elderly Proconsuls to succumb to old age, and assassinate the young Proconsuls. That was assuming the senate despised the Proconsul enough, or if someone wanting to be Proconsul was powerful enough to influence the senate.

The general had not needed to use his influence in this case, however. His predecessor had been of a very advanced age, and had chosen to retire a month before Omar’s appointment.

But this system of government meant that Omar had no idea of how long he had in power. Especially with Koval, that infuriating Tal Shiar chairman, constantly undermining his influence. Omar had long considered having him arrested on trumped-up charges, but it would cause a huge scandal throughout the government. Koval had been chairman for nearly a half-century – he was a hero of the Rihannusu people, not to mention his allies who would eliminate Omar as quickly as they could.

If only Omar had the support of the Praetor – then he could get to Koval. He already had the support of the Empress, but since she was a mere figurehead, he needed the support of the Praetor. That was unlikely, however. While not against the general, the praetor had done nothing to support him either. She would likely be content to sit back and watch Omar’s destruction.

And now he had another problem.

Last week, the general’s son had sent him an encrypted message referring to the placement of a Rihannusu military officer onboard the Federation starship Galaxy. The general knew nothing of it – he could only assume that the Praetor and Admiral tr'Hwaehrai had done it behind his back.

He banged the beautifully carved table in anger. How dare they plan behind the back of the second most powerful man in the Empire?

Having talked to the Praetor and tr'Hwaehrai, he had got nothing. But after his mercenaries had captured and “interrogated” some of tr'Hwaehrai’s subordinates, he had gotten to the bottom of it rather quickly. And when he had, he almost wished he hadn’t.

Putting a cloaking device onboard the Galaxy? Handing it over to the Federation on (what was the human term his son used? Ah yes…) a “silver platter.” The Empire relied on their stealth technology to survive, and with the exception of the starship Defiant (and only then because of the threat from the Dominion) the Rihannusu people would not give that advantage up.

Omar had considered arresting tr'Hwaehrai on grounds of treason (what was more treacherous than handing over valuable technology to a potential enemy?) but the admiral was another hero of the Rihannusu people – a man famous for not getting involved in politics. How would the general looked if he dragged the man into the political scene?

What was he to do?

"Haze of Dust and particles" Part I
By Lieutenant Michael Jamson,
Operations Officer
USS Galaxy-A

Appearances : Ensign Colby Elliot, Lt.Tarin Iniara

"Damn it..." Jamson struggled to move around the fog of debris. He was standing in the streets of the unrecognizable Trill Capital, Leran Manev. No longer this city would be described as one of the unique marvels of the universe, not for a long time. It was impossible to see anything through the haze of dust and particles except the flickering of lights and sounds of people yelling in a distance. Guided by his personal tricorder, Michael ventured forth at the crash site of the USS Akula with several members his department and Trill Emergency forces.

Federation starships in the vicinity were all sent to join the relief effort on Trill. The Galaxy was one of the closest ships, and was also big enough to handle the task of coordinating the activity between the ships, men on the ground, and the Trill government. This was no easy task, and given the choice, most would choose not to be here. Not the Galaxy, and not the thousands of Starfleet officers which made their way to Trill. They would risk their own lives, while offering aid, and this was one of few moments, Jamson was actually proud of his uniforms. It stood for something, other than space exploration and space battles, or simply to save the universe day after day.

"Radiation levels are staggering...we must be getting close" Ensign Lannow followed Jamson. Ensign Lannow was a young officer of the Operations department on the Galaxy. She hasn't seen much actions during her time on the ship, and so she was recommended to the extended away team of operations, by lieutenant Iniara. This was one of Tarin's new 'changeover' to the department. All new department heads did the same, Jamson saw it all the time, but Tarin brought new life to the department. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't so young like other department heads Jamson worked with.

"Lucky we're wearing environmental suits" A veteran of ops, was Chief Petty Officer Joe Klein who's experience was more than welcomed in such a mission.

Michael was glad neither of them wouldn't have to breath the foul air of the crashing site.

"We're lucky, but what of the survivors???" A Trill emergency paramedic noted.

"With all due respect sir, we're not sure there are any survivors, not here" Jamson remarked. Some would describe this remark harsh, but this was the reality, and they would have to get used to it.

"What...the..." another Trill member of the away team stumbled but was grabbed in time of Klein. "Be careful...It's not exactly a walk in the park".

"I stepped on something..." he added and scanned the floor. "It's a body...".

Ensign Lannow increased the range of her tricorder "My god...I read 65 dead bodies...with a radius of 15 meters".

"Radiation is interfering with ours scan...we need to get going" Jamson replied.

["Colby to Jamson"] Ensign Elliot's voice interrupted the 'conversation'.

"Go ahead Ensign" Jamson said.

["We're moving forward into the debris of the Akula. Science and Engineering parties are already on site. Hopefully we can find some logic in this...mess"].

"Aye Ensign, I'll report to Lt.Iniara. Jamson out". Jamson turned to face the members of his team. "Ok people listen up...we don't have a lot of time. We need to keep up the pace, and move forward. Once we get to our designated coordinates, we'll set a perimeter and base. From there we'll be coordinated by the other teams. Move along".

"Sir..." Ensign Lannow moved closely to Jamson, trying to obscure her voice. "All this death...it's catastrophic. Reports are coming in...the death toll is growing by the second, not minutes. I feel I'm not up to this. All the bodies...the faces, I'm not sure I can handle this. I was never chosen for away team for a reason, I find it difficult to fit in and act when the time is right".

"Ensign. Get a hold of yourself, we are here for a reason, greater than anything you could think of. And we have a mission-" Jamson interrupted by his personal communication bade again.

["Iniara to Jamson. Report Lieutenant"]

"Where should I begin....?" Jamson sighed.

“A Time For Mourning”

LOCATION: Trill, refugee camp outside capital city

Saia hurt. She felt the sting before she fully came to consciousness. She opened her eyes and saw the sunlight filtered through a canvas type covering several feet above her. Then the scent hit her. She scrunched her face and lifted an arm to squeeze her nose against the offensive odor. That’s when she realized how hurt she really was. Her face felt swollen and her arm hurt too bad to get it to her nose.

“Momma!” She called out. She wasn’t sure where she was. Last she remembered was being in the museum.

A Trill nurse walked over and checked her over.

Saia looked at her, “Where my mother and father?”

The nurse looked at her, “What is your name?”

“Saia Juis. My mother’s name is Lesia and my father’s name is Gertiwo.”

The nurse pressed a hypospray against her neck and Saia winced at the unusual sensation, but the pain was subsiding. The nurse pushed a hair back from Saia’s face that the wind had blown. “I’ll go check on those names.” The nurse stood and walked away.

On top of the pain in her little body, Saia’s heart began to ache for her mother and father. Her eyes welled up and her lip quivered as she impatiently watched the nurse disappear out the tent. Her eyes began to feel heavy and she let them close as she drifted off again.

A few hours later, her eyes opened again. The light was dimmer and the air a bit cooler. The pain was a little better and she tried to sit up. She felt a hand resist her from doing so. “Stay still, Saia.”

For a moment, she thought it was her mother, but her face fell seeing it was the nurse that tended to her earlier. Something was wrong with the way she looked at her. She asked, “Did you find them?” She laid back down.

The nurse looked down. How cruel she felt for being the one to tell this little girl this. “I did, Saia.”

Saia jumped up excited, “Where are they?”

The nurse gulped, “On a transport.”

Saia frowned confused, “Why? They wouldn’t leave me.”

The nurse almost broke down, but composed herself as she looked Saia in the eyes, “Dear, they’re….” The nurse couldn’t force the word out seeing the look on the girl’s face.

Saia knew though. It could only be that, or this nurse would had been faster with the information. She whispered, “Dead.”

The nurse nodded and hugged Saia. “I’m so sorry.”

Saia didn’t respond. She let the woman hug her until she got up and left. When she did, Saia swung her legs over the edge of the cot and thought. She let it hit her and she brought her legs up to hug them.

Then she cried. The two people in all of the Universe she loved and trusted the most were gone. She was alone. Her little whimpers and sobs were drowned out by the louder sirens and people calling to each other of bodies they’ve found. Surrounded by hundreds of people, Saia was all alone in her grief.

BACKPOST - November/December 2381

"Lost and Found" - Part V

by Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

Uauthorized Appearances by:
Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor
Ammanalyn Llhywyn, Assistant Chief Counselor

The Gorn's Maraudar had been in transit for approximately three days, according to Kylar's internal clock, if he trusted it. He and the freight herders had been assigned living arrangements in the cargo area of the ship, cramped amidst the modular units and crates. There was a niche at the rear of the hold that could fit perhaps a pair of average humanoids at best, but with a half dozen of the rancid handlers and himself on board, it made for a tight fit. The smaller Ugnaughts could fit in with much posturing, but as Curran kneeled and slipped his head in at the accommodations of the alcove, he was assaulted with the wretchedness of the dirty creatures. Bodily waste, sweat, and lack of bathing in the condensed section was simply too much to bear.

He instead found a section several meters away on the opposite side of the hold where he could rest, albeit uncomfortably, but at least he was below a ventilation shaft that circulated the air a bit more vociferously. The stench wasn't as pragmatic here.

He'd simply lay with his arms crossed upon his chest, and meditated for the most over the first pair of days, upon which it may became increasingly difficult with each passing minute. He sometimes woke in cold sweats, shivering, even though the cargo bay was moderately warm. Other times he felt deathly ill, his stomach twisting in knots. The nightmares came back to him as he slept fitfully. The meditating hardly affected his restlessness any longer. This was why he didn't trust his instincts in exacting time any longer.

It was during one of these fever-induced states that he sunk into a reveille of battle of his inner self. He found himself trapped in the same water-state he always found himself in whenever he closed his eyes. He saw his people all lined up in a single wall along the beach-head; a never-endng extension of black as far as the eye could see. He saw the desert beyond them where they all turned their back on him to walk into on their last journey. To give explanation on this, when a Kelvan is no longer useful to its species, or have failed his assigned destiny in a dereliction of duty, they rise from the murky depths of the ocean that is their home, and take one last walk into the sweltering lands, never to return. It is an exile. To die alone and without honor.

It is the ultimate degradation to take the walk as an outcast, yet honorable to elect it as a Jaq`uara. To give one's life willingly in a last battle with the elements in a contest of survival with only one given end. it is how that end is faced that their name will forever be etched into the subterranean Caverns of Reflection on Kelva II for future collection by later generations to ponder in their rites of graduation into the elite ranks of influential members of the Kelvan race. It was believed that the souls of those who have passed into the waters of eternal life return to impart their wisom and superior knowledge on the lesser members of the species. Bodies were produced as shells for these souls reborn into new shells. Only the most privileged were allowed entry into the Caverns to discover whose soul shared or inhabited their own.

Kylar still awaited his turn.

And so now this extensive and unending line of Kelvans had their backs turned to him to walk off into the desert. All except one. He heard its song in his head, sweet, delectable, honorable....

"You have shamed us. We go to Jaq'uara because of you, Kylar. We placed our greatest faith in you to overcome the shambles of humanoid frailty. The entire species suffers because of you. We all go to die in order to balance the retribution you bring on us. You have lost your heritage, *human*" Kylar tried to speak, but he felt held fast. He choked on the same waters that had sustained him at birth, now the carriage that would deliver him to death meaningless.

The last Kelvan turned his back on him, and floated over the granules of sand that never moved, to disappear in a swirl of sudden mist that enveloped it.

His feet found land, of which he found himself upright and dry. He craned his neck upwards as the winds picked up. The sun was moving faster across the sky in a timeless fashion, yet increasing darkness chased it. Casting one last look at the Kelvan that once was, he turned to face the incoming sea breeze that caressed his cheek. The scent of salt broke through the air and it was encompassing, wrapping in a blanket of familiarity. The tide rolled in... out... He knelt to one knee and grasped a handful of ruddy sand with one hand, wistful as the threads fell through his fingers. The imprint his fingers made in the shifting granules were washed away by the shallows as they came in to splash on his boots. He felt the calm flow off the surface of the sea, pass over and through him. Internally, tendrils of Kelvan DNA writhed for release, but were beaten back by the aggressive hunger of the dominant Terran genes within him. Any other humanoid would be hateful of the sensation of ants crawling over their body, but it served Kylar with a purpose. A not-so-subtle reminder of who he is.

As he pondered his life now that his people had left him an exile of his own making, he rose to his feet. He would form his own Jaq'uara. He took one step forward into the sea... and another... and another... Yet, as he pushed further into his own last *swim* and return to the fluidity of his birth, it came to him that the seas receded as far as he continued to walk. It never rose higher than his knees.

Upon this realization, the seas immediately rushed backwards in a wall of water, onwards, onwards, onwards... and disappeared in a roar. Below him, as he stood upon a precipice of dried and cracked earth. Pain coursed through him as he saw the broken pillars of his home strewn about on the ocean floor. Colours were washed out and faded. The splendours of the enormous arches and conjoined structures of limestone had crumbled into themselves, leaving an impression of ancient Terran structures found on the Grecian isles on Earth.

"You must accept who you are, Kylar." He didn't have to look to his left to know who was floating alongside him. He'd had this nightmare/dream many times already and the same people always accompanied him within it.

"I accept that I am Kelvan. No more and no less." Kneeling, a sheet of dry pebbles tumbled down the hillside into the basin below. His hands dangled over each knee as he squatted into a sitting position over the bank. Karyn Dallas, with capable legs in his dream, came to sit alongside him. Her scarlet hair let loose, it flowed over her like a cascade of blood. The wind hardly touched it as he blew his longer locks around.

"Let me help you. Your people turned their backs on you. I won't. Humans may have their failings, but turning our friends out on their own is not one of them."

"That's what makes you weak. I have no desire to be trapped in this shell for the rest of my life. At least I can restore faith and honor in my being. I need only seek the proper assistance, of which is not yours. I do not desire to live as a human."

"Then live as yourself, Kylar. Be who you deserve to be. Make your own decisions. You shouldn't be party to another's whims. You're no slave. To any being."

To his right, the form of Ammanalyn Llhywhyn settled in along his other side. 'Tam', her soulful companion, sauntered in and settled himself in Kylar's lap, where he stroked its fur. He was in ermine form this time. He'd gotten used to the odd creature, as he accepted the instance that it and its master were as alone in this endeavour as he was.

"I cannot. It is not how I was bred. You might as well set your companion free. It is simply not possible."

"Tam is my spiritual companion. We cannot be separated for we would die. Your limits are only within your mind. You need to expand your horizons." The clouds rushed away, leaving darkness and the shine of constellations and cosmic entities that littered the dark canvas of sky. The silence was maddening.

"Let us help..."

"No." The world he sat upon shook.

"We can help..."

"NO. Leave me." It wasn't the world that was shaking; else more dirt would be dislodged. It was him. Karyn and Am each took one of his shoulders and gripped tightly.

"You need us..."

Then Karyn twisted Kylar's face to her and slapped it. This was new!

His eyes flew open to find the rankling scent of fish, vomit and thick sweat hanging over him. And... a big, yellow, pus-filled eye. Kylar did the only thing that came to him. He screamed. His cheek burned. He slapped at it thinking acid was etching itself through him.

As he scrambled to get back from the thing that Dallas had morphed into, the trio of Ugnaughts shrieked and scurried back in a sharing of symphonic harmony with his own operatic pitches. Except the one Grelkor had called 'Maggot'. He was shaken, but not stirred to share in song.

"You were talking in your sleep, Kelvan! Damn loud, too! You kept us awake." It took but a moment for Curran to snap it in place that he was no longer dreaming. he blinked several times. The chills returned, his eyes hurt, and the nausea had returned.

"You're sick. Almost choked on your vomit, you did." Curran's nose crinkled, his hands flew to his robe and came away stained with the liquids of his stomach contents, bare as they were. He hadn't eaten in days. Not since his appetite disappeared. or rather, hadn't made an appearance since waking in the Starbase sickbay. Nausea rose in his gut again, and he dry heaved as his hands hit the dark plating.

"We can help, yes, we can." Curran coughed, wiping away the spittle at the corner of his mouth, quite untrusting of these decomposing creatures.

"How can *you* help?" He coughed several more times as the three Ugnaughts huddled, passing around something. Maggot slapped one of the others and took something from his hands.

"Try these. Try one tonight, one tomorrow. If you like, we can make deal for more, yes?" He held out a pudgy hand where a pair of milky white capsules rested amidst follicles of fur. Curran eyed them warily, but in his hazy state, with feeling death warming over him, caution wasn't much on his mind. Whether they helped or killed him, he sure as Hades wouldn't feel as horrid as he did at this moment.

"How do I know you won't kill me, or is a trick?"

Maggot snatched one up and swallowed it. "Now you have one for tonight. Do you want to lose that, too?"

"No." He raised a fist to his mouth and coughed. "Anything is better than now." He extended a palm, where Maggot clenched the capsule to hold an extra agonizing second longer. Curran imagined the filth seeping into it. Then he upturned his fist over Kylar's and dropped it in. The Kelvan rubbed it vigorously against his robe. Immediately he recognized it. Same as the brand purchased on Lammergeir. He recognized the manufacturer's branding incorporated on it.

"You'll have your deal, if you can find me more of this." He popped it in his mouth, swallowing it dry. He didn't care how much coughing it caused him.

Fifteen minutes later, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. No more tricks of the human body to put him into watchless sleep. Now he could meditate and focus properly. Nothing like a good, strong, mad pumping of the heart to flush life into your veins.

OOC: This post, and some of the other ones you'll see from Juan and I, doesn't have a lot to do with the game immediately, but it does keep everyone up to date on what's going on outside of the USS Galaxy, but that will eventually shape the world in which we game.

"The Wheels of Change"

Senator Fveirrolh tr'Vhaloran,
Junior Member of the Rihannsu Senate

Admiral Mandukar tr'Hwaehrai,
Director: Rihannsu Naval Intelligence
Commanding Officer: 4th Galae

with... Commander Ara S'Trialu,
Commanding Officer: IRV D'Cerevea

Sienae S'Daenic,
Senator tr'Vhaloran's Attendant

****

IRV Valaere,
Low Orbit,
ch'Rihan

The shuttlecraft departed from the House Vhaloran underground hangar and slowly made its way up through the crowded traffic patterns over the Imperial City. The shuttlecraft was unremarkable, a finely appointed shuttle in the deepest shade of imperial green. There were dozens of vehicles, belonging both to the diplomatic service and to the varied noble houses, in the air that day.

But this craft contained a young man who seemed to be on his way to greatness. The son of a murdered father, and the death of three men sent to kill him as well, Senator Fveirrolh tr'Vhaloran did not occupy his senatorial seat because he had simply inherited it upon his father’s demise. tr'Vhaloran was a senator because he refused to be unseated. His father's opponents had tried, but had thus far failed to budge the young man. Neither their political machinations, nor their mercenary assassins, had effected him.

Indeed, word was beginning to spread that tr'Vhaloran had slain the last three who had made an attempt upon his life... within the last week.

The shuttle eventually broke away from the main traffic patterns and was cleared to enter orbit. Once there, it made its way over to the Imperial Rihannsu Vessel Valaere, the flagship of the 4th Galae and the mobile headquarters of Rihannsu Naval Intelligence.

"Thank you again, Sienae," Fveirrolh said to his attendant, who was piloting. Sienae S'Daenic was a beautiful woman from one of the fishing villages along in the coastal Aldria province, known for women who did not wear their hair in the traditional style. "Your work has been beyond all expectations, and this weeks... idea... was worth a thousand of my best political maneuvers."

The young woman piloted her shuttle the expansive lower hangar of the massive, deadly, Kerchan-Class Warbird. "Thank you, Senator. That's high praise, coming from one of your station."

"Yes, but if it were not for you and Admiral tr'Hwaehrai, I wouldn't still be in that high station," he smiled. When it had become clear to him that his father was about to be murdered, he had been quick to seek out the most powerful allies of his father’s faction, and make firmer alliances with them. It had been better than being slain, and watching the Vhaloran House crumble as he died.

"Quid pro quo, Senator. We serve you as much as you serve us. In the end, we should all gain our desired ends," Sienae S'Daenic replied. She was a long time agent of Admiral tr'Hwaehrai, even before the upheaval of 2378, before the formation of RNI in 2380, and before it’s open rivalry with the Tal Shiar in 2381. She was what the good admiral referred to as his "Left Hand".

"Of course," the senator nodded as the shuttle settled to rest on the flight deck. Moments later, after what Fveirrolh was certain were an exhaustive and completely thorough series of scans, the deck officer informed S'Daenic that they could disembark.

They stepped out into an unremarkable fighter bay, filled with what had to be three squadrons of Pincer-Class Starfighters. The sleek, talonlike craft looked to have edges so sharp that they could slice through their opponents. The young senator suddenly felt much, much safer.

"Understand, my dear senator," the young woman stated as she stepped out behind him. "... that anything you see here that is out of the ordinary, we trust you never to speak of. Understand also, that if you break that covenant, betray our trust, that you will become far less useful to us. And that has consequences."

A shiver moved up from the base of his spine, to the base of his skull. When Sienae S'Daenic used that tone, even senators would do well to listen to and heed her words.

"Understood, Miss S'Daenic," he replied, and followed her from the shuttlebay.

****

Admiral's Sealed Conference Room,
Deck 10,
IRV Valaere

"Alright, Ara. What do you have for me?" Mandukar tr'Hwaehrai sank into the chair at the head of his conference table. There were perks that came with being named director of Rihannsu Naval Intelligence, one of which being a sealed conference room surrounded by dozens of dedicated supporters and comrades. The old man was exhausted today, though. He hadn't slept well in the last few months, even with things going as well as they were.

[The Warbird Taldren has departed on its mission,] the foot tall hologram of Commander Ara S'Trialu replied, standing in her own conference room on the D'Cerevea, thousands of miles away from the homeworld. [Commander Valkaar sends her regards.]

"Good. I want to know what's in that sector of space. With the Federation Council stuck in a permanent case of policy gridlock, I'm afraid we can’t simply leave it to them to formulate an effective defense against the aggression of the Breen, the Hydrans, and the T'Kith'Kin," Mandukar replied. His agents had reported the results of the Battle of Havras with twenty-four hours of its conclusion, and it had changed everything. Not that the Rihannsu Senate was any more willing to listen than the Federation Council had been. Even Praetor Hitan had turned a deaf ear to "Federation Entanglements".

[I know, Mandukar. We've been through this a dozen times now. Have you been sleeping?] the youngest woman to command a Rihannsu Naval ship asked her mentor.

He sighed. The rise to power had been meteoric, unexpected, and not without constant danger. For years, many Rihannsu had called upon him to take his father's empty seat in the Senate. But he had always refused to take an active role in politics. It would have been a death sentence, until now. The reason was as simple as it was counterintuitive to a human. Admiral Mandukar tr'Hwaehrai was an honorable man... and a socialist.

It was the single reason that had confined him to the role of silent servant of the empire. He believed that the people should be free to choose their own fate, their own leaders, and the direction of their own government. He believed that government existed not to rule over the people, but to serve and protect them. On ch'Rihan, voicing that opinion meant death, often in the dark, in the night.

It amused Admiral tr'Hwaehrai to no end that because he had been forced by his own sensibilities to remain aloof from politics, he had become more powerful than he could have ever dreamed. Because he remained out of the frequent scandals and betrayals of the government, and militarily achieved triumph after triumph for his Empire during the Dominion War, he was hailed as a hero and principled man by the people of the Empire.

And because of this reputation, and his distance from political machinations in the capitol, he was entrusted with the directorship of the Praetor’s brainchild: Rihannsu Naval Intelligence. RNI was created publicly to give the Rihannsu Navy better information resources. Privately, the Praetor had tasked him with seeking out and curbing the excesses of the Tal Shiar, with the eventual end of replacing the out of control organization.

And he had been successful. The Tal Shiar was beginning to lose steam, due largely to recent failures that had to be cleaned up by RNI, and because of the exposure of some of the less ethical projects of the old intelligence organization. All this had been by his design. It had gained him a powerful enemy in Chairman Koval.... and probably in Proconsul Omar.

He sighed a second time, and returned his thoughts to the present conversation.

"Yes, I've been sleeping. Not as well as usual, but then again, I'm not used to having political enemies who are no doubt planning to have me killed. I take solace in the fact that the Praetor simply will not allow it,” the old man laughed, "I'm just too effective. I wonder if any of them have the slightest inkling of what we’re planning to..."

[It’s probably not wise to talk about that over this channel. It’s secure, but you never know... And that idea won’t be feasible for many more years,] the hologram of his closest friend shrugged. He’d known Ara since she’d been a senior tactician on his first command. When she had discovered his secret, and admitted her own. She was honorable, and of like mind. [You’ll be pleased to know that the extraction from Rel’kessan went off without a hitch. We secured enough documentation to shut down that operation, provided it makes its way into the hands of the right senator.]

"I have just the man on his way to see me. We're going to have to cut this short, Ara," Mandukar said, listening for the telltale knock on the door that he knew would be coming soon. S'Daenic did not ring chimes.

[I know. Major T'Riasau wanted me to tell you that she appreciates your coordinating with Starfleet Command and getting her clearances fixed,] S'Trialu twirled her hair with one finger, absently. She was also an Aldrian by birth, and thus wore her hair long. [And I heard there was another assassination attempt.]

"Yes, but I think that we're probably not going to see another. I've discovered who was behind them. It's Senator tr'Khudrae. I'm going to arrange for some information I've had regarding his activities with a Reman woman to come to light. I doubt that we'll see anything other than his resignation," tr'Hwaehrai said. He hadn't wanted to expose the senator’s nasty secret, but tr'Khudrae was entirely too persistent.

[That’s not true, is it?] S'Trialu recoiled in shock. Having relations with an outsider wasn't unheard of. Proconsul Omar had recently been embarrassed by his sons escapades with a human woman... a Starfleet officer no less. But to copulate with a... Reman savage... It was an abomination of all that was Rihannsu. Of course, the same could be said for a socialist like her.

"Oh, it is. I have the images to prove it. Or I had them until I sent SubCommander t'Annhwi to deliver them to the press," he shrugged. "It's done. Unfortunately, I suspect that Proconsul Omar will suspect where the images came from. tr'Khudrae is one of his allies in the senate. But then, I suspect we've already made an enemy of him."

[I wouldn't worry about it. He's new to senatorial politics. He's not even a patrician. His son held the senate seat, not him. You'll find your way around it all in time, my friend. Just remember to secure your allies one at a time, and move with caution. Otherwise, our cause will fail before it is even given birth,] she smiled at her mentor. [Sleep well, Mandukar, and take solace in the knowledge that you are a good man, favored by the Praetor.]

He nodded. The knock had come on the door. "Call me again when Commander Valkaar has more to report. And keep an eye on the Breen."

[I always do,] S'Trialu grinned and closed the link, her image shrinking to nothingness on the Director's table. If Sienae S'Daenic was his "Left Hand", then Ara S'Trialu was most certainly his "Right Hand".

"Come in, my good senator," Admiral tr'Hwaehrai called to the door, which immediately slid open to admit SubCommander S'Daenic and her ward, the young Senator tr'Vhaloran. "It's good to see you in health, Senator, and with something of a steadily growing legend."

"Thanks to Sienae," Fveirrohl gathered his robes around him and sat down next to Mandukar. "On both counts, in fact. If it weren't for the training she's given me, I wouldn't have been able to hold them off until she arrived. And the decision to tell the press that I had defeated them was brilliant. I owe you both a lot."

"It's what we do, Senator," tr'Hwaehrai shrugged. He had his own agenda, which the young senator didn't know anything about. And he was certain that Senator tr'Vhaloran had his own agenda. For now, the two coincided. "We found out who’s been sending them."

"Who is it?" Fveirrohl asked, eager to exact revenge. With S'Daenic's talents at their disposal, his enemy was as good as dead. He didn’t know much about the short woman's past, but he had seen her handiwork, up close and personal. She was at the very least a talented martial artist, and she moved through shadows as if transparent. Four nights ago, the would-be assassins had failed to notice her until she was plunging daggers into their spines, paralyzing them.

"Actually, Senator tr'Vhaloran, I'm going to have to decline to give you that information," tr'Hwaehrai said, raising his hand to silence the senator's protest. "It'll be better for all of us if you let me handle it. In fact, I already have."

"You have? How?"

"Watch the news tomorrow and you'll find out."

Fveirrohl nodded. It wasn't normal, but then again, since the beginning his alliance with tr'Hwaehrai, so many things hadn't been normal. "So... You had something you wanted me to present to the senate?"

"You remember Senator T'Leira's presentation last month?" Admiral tr'Hwaehrai asked. His last stab at the Tal Shiar had entailed Senator T'Leira t'Leidh's presenting the exact details of a Tal Shiar biological weapons Experiment on Rihannsu political prisoners. Conveniently, the session had been televised. The people had been outraged, and the Bioweapons Division had suddenly been considerably thinner.

Of course, Mandukar had been wise to censor away General Omar's name, even though it probably would have prevented him from becoming Proconsul. The man's reach was simply too long, and he had the ear of the Empress. Instead, tr'Hwaehrai had taken the opportunity to disgrace one of the more conservative senators.

"Yes," Fveirrohl nodded, beginning to understand.

"It's nothing of that magnitude. Simply the Tal Shiar wasting money on a project that should have been abandoned after they pissed off Starfleet Intelligence. Instead, they pissed away an entire space station, two warbirds, and traded some secrets to the Hydrans. Needless to say, the Praetor wasn't pleased to learn about it. He wants it handled publicly," the Director stated, "You'll find the exact information in your shuttle. I'd like to see it presented at the session on friday."

Fveirrohl nodded, "Of course, Admiral tr'Hwaehrai. I'll make sure it's prepared."

"Excellent. Now then, on to more pleasant topics..."

An hour later, the shuttle made it's way down to the House Vhaloran compound. Senator Fveirrohl tr'Vhaloran felt secure once again. The wheels of change were turning on Rihannsu. And he was one of them.

"Surface Tension"

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg
CMO, USS Galaxy

Lt.(JG) Dr. Jack Slen
Pathologist/Acting Trill Specialist

"Dr. Axl"
ELMH(Emergency Long-Term Medical Hologram)

Dr. Taber Plax
Trill Symbiont Commission

Mention of the other members of the Medical Staff.

Location: Leran Manev, City Square. Converted into an Emergency Triage and Medical Staging Area. In the Primary command Module(A large Tent Reminiscent of of M.A.S.H. Main surgery War.)

"Alright Everyone! I've assume command of all Medical Efforts in Leran Manev. Any questions or problems, report to your superiors! Let's save some lives!"

At the moment, Klaus' direct subordinate Tizarin Lias was occupied with other things. The best he had at the moment along the lines of Confidants was Doctors Slen and "Axl"

"Klaus, we're getting reports of a continuous stream of patients, living, dieing, and some DOA." Jack said in a very business-like tone. At the moment, Klaus was in a command position, and needed to coordinate things before he could get his own hands dirty.

"Dr. Axl. Any word on that download yet?"

Dr. Axl calmly stood near his very bulky emmitter array, which now had a surgical biobed mounted on top of it. "Doctor. The download from Dr. Bashir is complete. I have integrated it into my systems, and I am prepared to safely extract Symbionts from thier hosts."

Jack piped in again. "Dr. Malgin also reports that he is familiar enough with the procedure to begin."

"Good..." He tapped his commbadge and spoke. "You're clear to proceed Dr. Malgin." A clear sound of displeasure shot through to communication, but an acknowledgement also shot through. "What about the Symbiont Commission."

"I will answer your questions Doctor."

Klaus frowned. "You do realize that----"

The Beady-Eyed trill doctor interupted "There is no other way? Yes.... I do realize. The Symbiont Commission Staff will help in any way it can with safe removal and implantation of Symbiotes." It seems painful for Dr. Plax to say that. Probably because he himself was joined. The Stocky Trill moved around a bit, nervously shaking in his boots. "I also believe there is Starfleet Doctor meant to be assigned to your Staff...Eytan I think his name is.."

"There will be time for introductions later. Axl, Status?"

The Hologram quickly answered. "My Analysis of communications reports 41 new patients and Secondary, and 15 at Tertiary."

The first of Many. "Keep me informed."

A frighted voice rung in on Dr. Fienberg's communicatior.["Dr. Fienberg! We've got a joined trill here, a Young Woman. She's fading fast, and we need to have that Symbiont out if there's any chance for survival!"]

Stel didn't want to lose both...but he kept a single thought in his head. ~If you can't save both, save at least one.~ Another thought rang in as he, Dr. Slen, and Dr. Plax slipped on surgical masks and suits and awaited the patient beside Dr. Axl at his personal surgical bed. ~This is wrong! Do they really feel the Hosts are like this? Are they nothing more than Husks to be discarded when useless?...No...not the time...Get the Symbiont out, then try to save the host.~

The woman was quickly lifted onto the surgical bed. Her injuries were grevious, but not irrepariable. She had a wound just below her right shoulder, her right arm was missing from just above the elbow. Her left leg was a mutilated mess. The Symbiont was barely about to keep from going into shock itself, even long after the host did.

"Dr. Axl. Dr. Plax. Begin the proceedure." Klaus and Jack watched and assisted with the incisions. The opperation took no longer than half an hour, and once it was over, Klaus held a lumpy mass of flesh in his hands. Dr. Plax rushed over with a small stasis tank for the Symbiont, one he seemed to recognize, and refered to as 'Frox.' The host was also still alive, and almost thankfully only suffering trauma from her previous injuries. They attempted to stablize her lifesigns, but her cardiovascular system quickly failed, and despite several attempted to restart her heart, she died.

Klaus solemnly stared down as Dr. Axl announced the time of death. It didn't register in his mind....he quickly slammed his fist down, shouting "Damnit!" Obviously directed at Dr. Plax, who seemed totaly focused on the health of the Symbiont.

Dr. Fienberg clenched his fist for a moment, while Jack appeared to share identical emotions. He turned to Dr. Plax. "How long can that Symbiont last without a host in that stasis vat?"

"At very most a day in this injured state. He sustained a bit of trauma. I'm not sure if he'll even last that long without a host...."

"The Second life hangs in the balance...We need a host. NOW. I don't want to risk him after were did all this to save him. If can't save them both, at least save one...."

He stared down Dr. Plax. "That means, there will be the possibility of a Host surviving, and the Symbiont dieing...I hate that as much as you do, since a life is a life....but don't you dare prevent me from saving lives, Dr. Plax."

Klaus took a breather for a moment while Dr. Axl began to monitor transmissions again for any warnings of new arrivals, and Dr. Plax was hounded again, this time by Jack Slen.

"I need to know something...Where is the Symbiont, Slen."

"I can't tell you that...it's the Rules."

This made Jack Angry. "Wrong answer fat man. Where is it!"

"I don't know! We lost track of everyone when the Akula crashed!"

Jack drooped.

"Klaus, I want to assist with Search and Rescue opperations."

"I could use your expertise Jack. I need trill specialists."

"I'm as much a Trill specialist as I am A Human specialist....Besides, you have everyone you need right *here*." He sneered at the Snivelly Dr. Plax.

Klaus knew. "Alright...go look for him...but remember that *Every* life matters. Not just one."

Jack started out, saying in his sharp way. "Hey, It's Me."

"And Along Comes A Marine"

Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lt. Ella Grey, Assistant Chief Engineer
2nd Lt. Jebidiah Baile, Recon Specialist
Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
ALSO Commander Enrico Vega, Starfleet Command Operations
Ensign Mei Sime, Engineer (played by Lori)
Ensign Emma Saturn, Engineer (played by Lori)

:: Crash Site, Trill ::

As the door opened the runabout was over taken with the thick staunch smell of death. It was a sickening smell of smoke that come from various things. One could even smell blood. Anna stepped out first and she coughed slightly. She looked around first, not really sure where to start when she saw a man walking toward her.

Nara's nostril's automatically flared at the smell. It wasn't noticeable, but she felt it. She knew the smell. She smelt it in battle on Sakaria. It didn't make it any more pleasant. She looked at Mei, who stepped beside her. Just by looking at her, Nara could tell she was scared. Emma stepped in front of them a step to be at Anna's side.

"'Commander," He said, "Commander Enrico Vega," he said, introducing himself. "We need you to work in that section." He said, gesturing. "Make sure that areas safe before we send in search and rescue personnel."

"Yes, Sir, we'll get right on it." Anna said, as she looked over at her team. Then began to walk over the rough cut path in the section. "Ella, you began scanning for anything hot." Anna said, asking her to scan for any sign of radiation or thermal pocket of plasma. "Nara, you, Mei and Emma start clearing this area... we'll use it as a central point. Once your done, began to scan that right there.. Tell me if me the structural integrity." Anna said, not wanting the large bulkhead to collapse.

Nara nodded as she placed her hand on a soot dusted piece of metal and moved it. Emma moved a few feet from Nara doing the same. Nara had grabbed a second piece when she looked up and saw Mei standing there, looking at the rubble. ~Mei, come on. The longer we take, the less chance anyone has.~

Mei looked at her with teary eyes, "Nara, I don't think...."

Nara sighed and stood walking over to Mei, "No time to think. These people are counting on us." Nara handed her a piece of metal and Mei nodded with the frightened look still on her face. Nara wasn't sure if Mei would ever be hardened enough to handle such situations. She wondered if she should had picked someone else. She looked at O'Shea a moment as she worked, knowing she would judge Nara by how Mei performed because it was Nara who chose her. Nara started picking up the metal again and saw that Mei was working steadily now.

Ella chose a spot and started to scan in some semblance of a perimeter. She ran the tricorder with one hand and covered her nose and mouth for a time with the other. Ella thought she would have been prepared for the smell, lingering bits of memory from another timeline having familiarized her with the smell of bodies and buildings on fire, but she realized that this site was a hundred times larger than that crash. And more potent in smell too.

Brianna didn't say much a she continued to work. She then looked up hearing a shift in something, turning her head she saw a large towering beam shifting. "Look out!" Anna called out, and reached out and grabbed Mei and pulled her out of the way as beam crashed down and produced a loom of smoke and dust. "Emma... *cough* head back to the runabout, *cough*, bring back some facial breathing masks... *cough* we breath much more of this in we are going to have lungs full of dust."

Nara dropped the metal she had just picked up and looked at Mei.

"Ella, got anything?" Anna asked, coughing slightly. "You okay, Ensign?" She then asked Mei and Nara.

Mei simply nodded and returned to work. Nara looked at O'Shea, "Yes, Ma'am." Nara looked at Mei and continued working.

"Em... be careful." Anna said, since the stuff they were walking could shift with you. Once they all finished and got most of the stuff secured Anna called them together. "Here's come the hard part of it. Lets start looking for bodies and survivors. Ella you where over there, Nara there, Emma and Mei, there and I'll start over here." Brianna said, then picked up a tricorder and set it to human organic DNA. It would locate body even if there wasn't life signs.

Mei gave Emma and Nara a shocked look. Emma rolled her eyes and walked over to the spot she was told. Nara gave a small smile, "It's life Mei." She frowned and looked into her eyes, "But the sooner we find them, the better chance they have to live." Mei nodded and turned to follow Emma. Nara sighed. She didn't want to think of this as holding Mei's hand, but that's pretty much what it was. It wasn't too bad though, so long as Nara reminded her of duty. Mei would get used to it sooner or later. Well, not used to it. No one wants to get used to death, but better able to handle it. To be able to detach from it so you can do a job. Nara set her own tricorder and scanned.

Mei gave Emma and Nara a shocked look. Emma rolled her eyes and walked over to the spot she was told. Nara gave a small smile, "It's life Mei." She frowned and looked into her eyes, "But the sooner we find them, the better chance they have to live." Mei nodded and turned to follow Emma. Nara sighed. She didn't want to think of this as holding Mei's hand, but that's pretty much what it was. It wasn't too bad though, so long as Nara reminded her of duty. Mei would get used to it sooner or later. Well, not used to it. No one wants to get used to death, but better able to handle it. To be able to detach from it so you can do a job. Nara set her own tricorder and scanned.

Ella walked carefully, trying to avoid stepping on anything she thought might be human. She grimaced as her eyes met the opaque eyes of a dead woman, buried under the debris. Ella hoped it had been quick.

Brianna got signal back, someone was alive. "I've got someone alive over here.." She said as she knelt down and began to dig down through the rock. Looking up she heard someone coming through and it was Baile. "Rooster, Help me!" Anna called out, as she began to move some of the larger rocks.

Nara looked over, and moved to help move some of the debris wondering who she was calling Rooster.

Mei had began to move toward O'Shea and Nara, but Emma grabbed her arm, "They've got it. Keep scanning. We've got our own to deal with." Mei felt torn for a moment, but Emma had sonority and pretty much bossy. Though, she thought Emma was right, but she still wanted to help. She finally started scanning again remembering the words Nara said. She and Emma were a good four feet away, and whoever they could had found while helping O'Shea could die in the few minutes they delayed in finding them. Mei grimaced as the thought occurred. She didn't like this assignment. Not at all.

The marine had his game face on. Blank, with eyes that missed nothing. He wore full uniform, including a seventy pound backpack. Rubble scraped underneath the dark combat boots as he walked closer, adjusting the worn jungle issue hat he wore.

Anna looked up at Baile. "Help me!" She snapped at him. "All your good at is killing people, that it?" She snapped at him, if it were anyone else she wouldn't have. She knew Baile, knew he wouldn't hold it against her. Holstering her tricorder, "Screw it.." She said as she began to move the metal herself. She'd strain every muscle and dig to the other side of Trill if she had to. Situation and the smell was making her angry, there was no reason for this. Starship just doesn't crash in a plant. Brianna was coughing, her hands was bleeding from where they were being cut by sharp pieces of metal, but it didn't stop her. Her brow furrowed and she began to move the rubble.

Nara looked at the man who took the brunt of Anna's anger as she helped her dig at the rubble. She worked somewhat calmer than Anna; though not with less fever. She knew what was at stake.

The marine looked at them. Dropping the backpack next to him he sighed. "Oh for the love of.... ". He firmly pushed Anna aside and demonstrated why Starfleet Marines carried up to two hundred pound backpacks in any terrain. Slowly it gave away until he had enough room to get himself underneath it and push it upwards with his back.

Nara was continuing to work, even after seeing the man push O'Shea aside. Any other time, it would had been funny. At least when she considered what O'Shea may had done in return.

Moving over Brianna crouched down and began to check the ragged Starfleet uniform glad body. She then reached up and hit her commbadge. "O'Shea to Georgetown," She said, calling the Starfleet Medical starship. "I need medics now..." She said, moments later two men appeared via transporter and began to work with the one they'd pulled from the wreckage.

Brianna watched as they transported back to the ship with the woman and then sighed and pulled her tricorder. She knew the look of death when she looked at the woman. Death was already there in her eyes, she doubted the woman would live another five or ten minutes. Poor woman wasn‘t fighting either, "Everyone if you find a body tag it with transporter tags. Try not to waste time, there are still other things we need to do." Brianna said, then glanced at Baile before taking a few steps.

"Expand our search..." She then added.

The marine reached into a pocket and pulled out a packet of gum. "Want some?" he asked as casually as if they had been in Ten-Forward, offering the packet to the engineering team.

Nara had her hands to her side as the injured woman was whisked away and was catching her breath. She looked at the Star Fleet version of GI Joe and shook her head in disgust. She turned and continued scanning.

Mei and Emma had moved a good six feet away at this point. They had heard O'Shea's direction and Mei's expression and demeanor fell more, if it were possible.

Brianna looked around and then changed her tricorder sittings to locate the ‘black box’. Didn’t make any sense for the engineer for a modern ship like this to have a black box, when you consider the computer is automatically linked up to the Starfleet data round the clock to keep the positioning of the ship and it’s engineering status current. Besides which, if either of those was offline, the SEC would have informed Starfleet Operations and ship would have been dispatched to investigate.

“Ella, can you head back to the ship. Start bringing down more teams of engineers. We are going to need help shoring up buildings.” Anna said, to her assistant. “While your doing that I’m going to search for the ‘black box’ transponder and have it beamed up to Intelligence.” Brianna said, as she looked up and saw Baile moving off with some Vulcan marine.

“Nara, head down that street and check out the buildings. We need to start getting a idea of which ones are the worst cases. That way we can move in. If you run into problems, contact me…Mei, Emma, your with Ensign Rosewell.” Brianna said, as she turned and then began to hone in on the transponder beacon. Once she got to it she sat her tricorder down and began to hands to dig through the rubble she was in the middle of. Looked like the ship auto jettisoned the ’black box’ before the ship crashed. Which was a good thing when you consider how hard it would have been to find amidst the down starship. Once Anna got her hands on it she pulled it up to her lap as she sat there. Didn’t look damaged, which was good cause she knew Intelligence would blame her if it was. Reaching up she tapped her commbadge.

-=/\=- “O’Shea to Transporter Room III”

“Go ahead, Chief.” Came the response.

“Lock on to transporter tag J7-390... Beam directly to Intelligence Office.” Anna said, as she tagged the device and sat it aside. She watched as the transporter whisked it away and then sighed. “O’Shea to Dobryin, Akula’s black box is now on your desk. Have any problems and need my assistance you know to contact me. O’Shea out.” -=/\=-

“Wandering Thoughts of Death”

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

LOCATION: Capital city of Trill TIME: 20 minutes after arrival

Nara walked toward a building. Mei on one side and Emma on the other. It was a very convenient coincidence that O’Shea sent them to check out the buildings. Now she just waited to Saul to tell her which one. She had to make sure Mei or Emma didn’t follow her though.

Nara picked up another signal and dug through the rubble a few moments to only reveal a hand. She already knew they were dead. She had called the medics as she’d seen O’Shea do.

She moved more rubble away so as not to cause too much shift when the body was transported and the debris fell to fill in the hole. She then tagged the body she had just found and moved on. Her mind wandered as she moved through the rubble watching and listening to her tricorder over the sirens and crying.

It just didn’t seem right. Soon, she’d be faking her own death. It seemed so wrong to fake something when there was so much real death surrounding her. She’d also be unable to help like she was now. It felt like a cop-out.

The tricorder beeped and she quickly clipped it to her belt and began moving rubble. She heard someone underneath. She tried to remove anything near that sound first. After a few moments she saw a face.

The man blinked his eyes that were red from the dust and tears. When Nara had removed more of the rubble, he had lifted his arms and sat up. Nara looked at him in wonder. Aside from some scratches and the obvious shakiness, he looked fine.

He looked around, “Oh no.”

Nara took her tricorder and scanned him again. “I need to call the medics for you.”

He shook his head, “No. I’m fine.” He looked around and his own eyes filled with wonder. “I don’t know how, but I’m fine.” He stood and Nara stood with him. He looked at her, “I want to help.”

Nara shook her head, “No, sir. First you have to be cleared by medical.”

She stuck a tag on him and tapped her commbadge, “Injured to beam up.”

After he was transported, Nara continued scanning. That was one miracle. She hoped for many more. In such tragedies as this, people seemed to miss the miracles. It was understandable. Through all the mess and death, it was hard to find any good. It took a lot of digging. With each life that was spared, there was a miracle.

Because it could always be much worse.

OOC: Takes place after "One by One"

"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 roared over the capitol city, cowing the insurgent army into surrender, 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 their 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."

She offered him yet another smile, "Heloi out."

"A Moment Of Proximity"

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London (Written by Mieke & Mekaela)

Ensign Saul Bental

Bran was searching for Saul. And was little bit surprised when the computer told her he was at work. She would have thought he would be hiding from the doctor. Next she hurried over to intelligence to talk to him.

Much like Naranda before her, she found the Intelligence center to be a noisy bee-hive with black-collared worker bees buzzing all over. She caught the attention of an Ornaran Ensign, which pointed her to Saul.

Her boyfriend seemed to be preparing to go down to the planet - he was standing next to one of the equipment cabinet, picking some devices she was unfamiliar with. He was wearing a black jumpsuit with Starfleet markings, and a phaser rifle was hanging loose over his shoulder.

As he noticed her, he hurried to lead her out of the center, and into the corridor leading to it.

"Branwen.", he said, as the commotion died down, "What are you doing here?"

“I think you should go back to sickbay and let the doctor check you out before you make a decision to go down to the planet, Saul. This way it is illegal. You have not been cleared to leave.” She said sternly. “And after this mission we have to talk about Nara.”

Nara. Saul frowned at that name, while usually hearing someone mention her would make him smile, even if it was that prick Kastanza. Well, the girls WERE roommates, so it was hard to keep any secrets from each other. The only question was, what Nara DID tell her.

"After the mission." He nodded. "Bran... you're a certified psychiatrist, right?"

“No, I am a psychologist, Saul.”

"Umm... your training does include medical courses, no? Is it possible for you to give me medical clearance to go down to Trill?"

“I only have basic medical knowledge. I am not a medical doctor, so I cannot help you there. Come on, you are going to see a doctor right now, mister!”

"Hey hey hey..." Saul took her hands, trying to soothe her. "I told my department head that I'm going to see a doctor before going down to the planet, and I promise you I will... you have my knightly oath on it."

He was going to grab a doctor who wasn't familiar with his case, convince him to give Saul a clean bill of health, and escape before Klaus or Tizarin notice him - but hey, there was nothing illegal about it, a doctor is a doctor after all!

"I believe you, sir knight. Yet I also know you are devious about the letter of the law. I will walk you to sickbay." She smiled.

Saul shrugged his shoulders. He was, in fact, too weak and too distracted to fight with her. Not to mention that it was hard for him to get mad at someone as sweet as Branwen. The two of them began pacing toward the turbolift.

"Sorry I was out of reach recently, I was ill." Saul said casually as they turned around a corner.

“Yes, the doctor told me a few things. Why did you stop taking your medication?”

"With everything that happened recently, I simply forgot. The side effects I was familiar with weren't too severe.", Saul shrugged once more. He still remembered how once at school he forgot taking the medicine for five days, and children from the senior class chased after him with buckets of blue paint. It was two or three months before he decided that real life is a better school than anything Utrecht III had to offer him.

“I will make sure you will not forget again.”, She said. “That is if you decide to stay with me and not Nara.”

It was said casually, but she could've slammed an Andorian Sut'shi club on his head and gain the same effect.

"I don't know what you and Nara spoke about while I was having fun with the nurses." He blurted out, "But know this - she never showed any interest in me."

At least, not in his face. Half the ship came to talk with him on her behalf instead of that.

"She loves you." Bran said. "She didn't say it, yet I am not blind."

"I guess that I am, then." Saul said flatly. "My Academy Instructor used to say about things like this 'What a pickle'... too much is happening. Would you be mad at me if I tackle the crisis down on the planet first, and deal with... this... only when things settle down on Trill?"

"If you promise to stay in Sickbay for your clearance once I leave." Bran said with a sad smile. What she wanted was to have him say that he would choose her, but as a psychologist she knew not to force him into a decision at this time.

"I promise. Besides, my department head said she won't let me leave the ship to the surface before I get back to her with a letter from the doctor."

With that said, Saul lifted his arm over her shoulder and brought her closer to him. It was rather strange. Although the Intelligence officer did have some 'interesting' experiences with women before - innocence was lost at an early age in the streets of Utrecht III - there never was a girl which he knew for sure that wouldn't resist him hugging her, just like there was never a girl who called him 'my boyfriend' seriously. Not any alley girl on Utrecht III, no fellow cadet on the Academy, not even Nara... although eventually, she might.

But Bran did.

And it was a whole new thing for Saul Bental.

Bran sighed and let herself sink into him. It might be a bad idea, considering that he was still undecided about their future, but it still felt right to her.

The walked together in silence until they finally reached sickbay.

* * * * 9/2001 * * * *

The Israeli C-130 flew over the Atlantic ocean, its propellers roaring.

Doron Bental watched the ocean waves below throughout the hatch. The pilot said that they will be only permitted to land on an American airbase far from any major population center, and that they'll be escorted by a couple of fighter jets during the final leg of their journey. Doron couldn't blame the Americans for being paranoid. He could only imagine how the Israeli government would react if an aircraft crashed into, say, the Azrielli towers in Tel Aviv. That threat now became more real with the disaster, and Doron felt a shiver passing through his body whenever he thought of visiting the actual ground zero.

But that was his mission. He was sent to the U.S. as a liaison to the Israeli Intelligence. A tremendous amount of responsibility, which should have been bestowed upon someone more experienced, with at least the rank of major. Doron knew why it was decided that he will be the liaison, and sighed.

Being at the center of events was a whole new thing for Doron Bental.

He continued gazing through the window in silent until the C-130 landed on American soil.

"On Your Own"

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Attaché Nyssa Alvarez

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Daren looked up at the sound of the door buzzer. He'd already spoken to Doctor Feinberg, so this would either be Attaché Alvarez or someone new with questions he had no answers for, or, hopefully, a problem that he did have the answer for. He was afraid that there would be far too many of the former and not enough of the latter for some time to come.

With a glance at the now four empty coffee cups on his desk, he sighed and ordered a fifth. "Come in," he called.

Nyssa walked into the Captain's ready room, she walked in rather curious as to what this summons was all about. Her eyes scanned around the room and to the captains desk which was littered with data pads and coffee cups, presumably entirely empty at this stage.

"Well it looks like someone's burning the midnight oil" she smiled "Either that or your neck deep in a problem and your looking for anything to get you out of it" she followed up remembering a number of times when she was in the exact same situation.

She got closer and smiled "I apologize for my lack of formality Captain, I've never actually spoken to you one on one before and it's my way of coping with this sudden surprise"

"Everyone deals with stress in their own way, Attaché - as long as it works, I'm not concerned about individual methods." Daren retrieved his fifth cup of coffee and turned to look at the live feed from Trill running silently on his wall screen, the pall of dust and smoke over the capitol city now heavy enough that the disaster site was shrouded in near-darkness. "I'm going to add some stress to your load, Attaché."

Nyssa smiled and took the seat opposite the captain, her hands reached out for the data pad he was offering as her eyes immediately focused on the information. She heard the Captain start speaking as she continued to read the fascinating information on Trill society and the threat to it.

"We're the lead respondent for the Federation to the disaster on Trill, which you already know. The Trills are a species that live in symbiotic relation with a second species, one that only a small portion of their population can accept merger with, which you also already know. What you don't know is this: that's a lie."

Nyssa nodded and looked up to the Captain. "I can understand why the Trill government choose this action, and on a personal note I agree with their ideas on how they select there hosts" She smiled "So what would you like me to do?"

"I've already instructed the medical staff to make the necessary contacts and acquire the information necessary for them to transplant symbiotes from dying hosts to healthy ones - a fact made easier by the real percentage of Trill able to receive symbiotes." Daren nodded towards the padd in her hands. "This course of action will almost certainly expose the lie that the Trill government has told their people - especially if it becomes necessary to evacuate the symbiote pools and no other option is available." He leaned back in his chair. "I - we - are here to save lives, Attaché, Trill, symbiote, and incidental lives... not to save the Trill government from itself and the lies it's told. I suspect that the government, as an organism in a sense, will seek to ensure its survival. Your job is to make sure that in doing so, it doesn't interfere with the rescue operation."

Nyssa nodded in agreement "All governments have a fall back plan, a location where they can go to ensure the survival of their leaders. But I think in this case what we will see is the government trying their hardest to explain the situation and keep anger and unrest at a minimum." She looked up "Okay so I now know what I have to do, how do we go about doing it? Do you want me planet side with the diplomatic team?"

"That, Attaché, is where I have to defer to you. You do what you think best - call home for additional instructions if necessary." Daren sighed. "Like everyone is sooner or later, you're on your own." "Understood Captain, I believe I have some organizing to do." She stood up and moved back "I'll report back when I know what were going to do Captain"

"Marines on Patrol"

2nd. Lt. Jebidiah Baile,
Recon Specialist, USS Galaxy
Pvt. 1st Cl. Sorak,
Sniper, USS Galaxy, -NPC

-------

"Move out, Sorek.. " Baile said and put his hat back on. "Operations wants us to check out a warehouse for munitions." The zone was secure now that Security had gotten their asses out of the wagon and hit planetside.

The Vulcan nodded and followed the human. The stench was stronger here, as well as the smell of blood. The further out from ground zero they moved the stronger it would get for the simple reason the heat had not been enough to incinerate, only burn.

They walked quickly, but still maintained a vigilant watch. As much as he both feared and respected Trills, they could be angry, desperate or any other feeling just as the rest of the universe. People would want to get away, not because they really wanted to, but because it made sense right there and then. Security would take care of the more immideate threats agaisnt the rescueteams, but scattered here and there were weaponscaches, and if they got into the wrong hands then things could get ugly.

The dust made seeing difficult. A greyish layer of dust turned the world into a lifeless painting. A reminder of things to come. The zone was about as devastated as if someone had triggered an old A-bomb. It would take weeks to clear out the area closest to the impactzone. But it was not really the Trill he was worried about. It was all the other races that would try to leave - only to discover it wouldn't be possible for a while.

WIth a sky full of shuttles, dust and with enough electronic traffic, both from communications and static noise from the destruction, to fry a bird in flight, civilian ships would have a hard time getting away. Then the truoble would begin. Catastrophy or war. It didn't matter to the survivors.

The two continued their patrol, circling around ruins and collapsed structures. Baile had been to the Trill homeworld a few years ago. It had been a nice place. Now it was on the opposite side of the scale. Not the worst thing he had seen, but it made the top twenty.

Bodies, twisted and torn, were literally strewn around them, always in the company of horror - sweat, blood and urine. Yet looking at the two marines, one human and one Vulcan, it looked like just another Sunday stroll. Good or bad? God had to be the judge of that.

Trouble did find them, just as expected. A resuceteam, consisting of medics, engineers and security had found themselves caught between a rock and a hard pla