"Test 2: Idols Fall."

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
And G'Iv Z'Jgk'Thur, Hydran Command

Location: Temple Ruins Zone, Mirusa VI

******* Meanwhile *******

"Hello?!? Anyone?!?"

Mika Sh'Sonora, youngest child of the famed 'Quadrotriticale King' of Andoria (or in other words, her homeworld's biggest grain merchant), former representative of the Federation on no less than two separate territories, and reviled figure among both the Federation Diplomatic Corp and the Gryphon Coalition...

...was lost in a tunnel, all because she wanted to go on a lark.

Not entirely true, she had to remind herself, though the thought of taking a trip on an unknown planet seemed a romantic notion at the time, but she was asked to join the trip because of her diplomatic experiences. Herself, as well as her mother and grandmother before her, had an unnatural talent of being able to put multiple frayed nerves at ease.

However, that talent did not work when she was lost, and stressed herself. The tunnels seemed to run forever, running an endless montage of ancient stories yet deciphered and not in the least bit helpful for directions.

She was lost, scared, and saw her boyfriend (the ever brave security chief James Corgan) disappear without even the courtesy of a puff of smoke to indicate his passage, as if to say in contempt that such a wonderful man did not even deserve to be whisked away in a dramatic fashion, thereby leaving her alone and without a way out. Backtracking entangled her more into the maze. There was no effective way out.

This all added to one desperate SOS.

"HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Echoed back a voice.

Another voice, one completely different from her surprisingly shrill, unfeminine tone that ruffled her calm like a strong wind, cut through the silence and hit her. Hard.

"Hello?!" She questioned loudly.

"Hello! Help us!" Came the reply, a slithering, deep voice she immediately identified as Hydran (northern accent, second continent, city of Hydrabad if Mika's Diplomatic Corp linguistics course was half as accurate as it claimed), but not Z'Jgk'Thur.

A beacon of hope! Mika's foul mood turned from dark to sunny in an instant. With a smile to her face and a glimmer of hope that the mission would not end in a horrid, miserable crash of failure, she ran to where she heard the Hydrans.

**********

"Waitasecond..." James Corgan asked, "What was the first test..."

James Corgan and Z'Jgk'Thur were transported seamlessly out of the room of stars, and into another.

"Not again." Z'Jgk'Thur grumbled.

"Same here." Corgan muttered, "I'm getting sick of these people already."

They found each other in a room, big as the Galaxy's largest shuttle bay and immensely taller, where overhead was a bright desert sun in the light blue sky, and palm trees hanging overhead on a ledge. Starting from the centre of the room and expanding nearly to the edges was the dominant structure; another pyramid. At a closer glance, James saw that it was a replica of the main complex outside, miniaturized to fit in the room. The walls, unlike the rest of the building, were sandstone shorn of their legends and idols, made completely bare as to hide no handholds to climb out, save for four pillars, one on each corner, depicting the Omnipresent Hydranlike idols.

The one door out of the pyramid room melded into existence, widening like a hole, then shaping into a rectangular door. In from it flew a bricklike, semi-Hydran statue, the size of James chest, hovering by unknown means. Its stony head scanned both James and Z'Jgk'Thur, then hovered its way up the pyramid, resting at the top.

The male disembodied voice quaked, saying, "Retrieve the idol. That is all."

"Ok." James nodded, "When do we..."

G'iv Z'Jgk'Thur was already climbing the pyramid like a shot.

"HEY!" James Corgan cursed his Hydran counterpart, running then scrabbling up the pyramid to catch up, "What the f**k are you doing?! He didn't say start!"

"He said..." The Hydran hissed back, "RETRIEVE THE IDOL!"

With three of his six legs, Z'Jgk'Thur kicked at James, dislodging him from the pyramid and sending the security chief tumbling back to the first level. Corgan landed, front first and face in the stones, with an appalling, ungraceful landing.

Bruised in ego and body, James glowered, "You... son... of a... BITCH!"

Brandishing a fist sized rock he found on the floor, James threw it with all his might, catching the Hydran at the back of his skull. The sound of a celery stick breaking off in one's hand could best describe the impact of the rock on Z'Jgk'Thur's head, as the Hydran turned and bellowed in pain.

"YOU DIRTY HUMAN! HOW DARE YOU!" Z'Jgk'Thur screamed a snakelike hiss.

"Get what you give, @$$hole!" Corgan quipped furiously.

"I'll kill you!"

"Come over here and try it!"

James scrabbled up the pyramid, clutching at Z'Jgk'Thur's leg. The Hydran kicked, but to no avail, for James leveraged up with Z'Jgk'Thur's leg and up the rocky steps. Z'Jgk'Thur kept climbing, kicking at the tenacious human, and looking for both his prize and his rival, doing all tasks but none too well.

Corgan climbed another tier, but found that breaking off from the Hydran's multiple grasping limbs was more difficult than he imagined. He could pry off an arm or two, but the third was always on him, tearing at his jacket, grappling an arm, or lobbing a random punch. Then there were Z'Jgk'Thur's legs kicking at his shins and thighs; always enough to kick at him and climb the pyramid with his six while James made due with two.

The Hydran had the advantage in balance. He was climbing farther and faster than James, using his muscles and limbs to their best advantage. James, more exhausted to keep up with the Hydran's relentless advance, could only distract or slow down Z'Jgk'Thur in his climb.

"Had enough, Human?" The Hydran officer taunted.

Corgan snapped back, "F**k you!"

In a burst of speed that punished his lungs and muscles, James scaled the pyramid, catching up with the Hydran, but then stopped. He worked his jacket off his shoulders, looping the cloth in both his hands. Catching up with the Hydran again, he fought off the alien's lashing feet.

He caught one of the six legs with his hands, wrapped the jacket around, and began to pull.

"What the..." Z'Jgk'Thur objected.

James yanked with the last of his strength. The Hydran's grip on the pyramid loosened, but didn't yield. Then, James jumped down a step, using his own weight to yank at the alien.

"Arg..." Z'Jgk'Thur's leg wrenched.

Corgan pulled harder, and Z'Jgk'Thur lost his grip on all three arms. He tumbled off steps, stopping by Corgan's grip on the jacket that bound them arm to leg. At that momentary, jarring stop Z'Jgk'Thur found a handhold with two arms and held on for dear life.

With the third arm, the Hydran clutched his serrated, silver knife.

James, recovering from a slight tumble himself, had one hand holding onto the pyramid and keeping their combined weight from tumbling to a near fatal fall, the second arm bound by his own jacket, he hadn't the Hydran's advantage of pulling a weapon.

Therefore, he unlooped the jacket wound up on his arm.

The Hydran's look in his three eyes was that of surprise. His eyes widened in shock, then his hands gave out before they could find a more permanent grip on the pyramid. Then his legs, now burdened by one with an overstretched tendon, clambered without luck to find a toehold. Without Corgan for support, Z'Jgk'Thur didn't have much of a hold on the pyramid.

That left only one way to go.

And that was down.

Z'Jgk'Thur tumbled down the pyramid, a mass of all arms and legs that somehow formed into a twirling, cylindrical ball that bounced its way slowly down.

"Heh." Corgan chuckled, "That will teach you."

Alone in the climb, James slowly made his way up the pyramid, closer to the Hydranlike idol laying up top. His arms protested, burning like a scalding furnace to quit the climb which grew more punishing and vertical as he went up. Under sweat and strain he still climbed, seeing the idol come closer, almost as if he could touch it.

Triumph swelled at his breast. He was about to do it!

"Z'Jgk'Thur!" Corgan stopped, "I didn't kill him, did I?"

James turned around to see what befell his rival. He was already high above ground level, until he could feel the slight kiss of wind from the open roof. The sky and sun was beautiful from this level, but when his attention was brought to what was below, he could only assume from the sun's reflection on the light sandstone.

The doorway in which the came in was small in comparison, leaving James to wonder how high he really climbed, or how long their contest took.

And... where the hell was Z'Jgk'Thur? His body, if alive, was nowhere to be seen.

But what he did see was a fast, silver glitter travel at lightning speeds towards his ribs.

Then a sharp pain in his side, as the flash moved past him.

James felt around for the source of pain, feeling the slick, stickiness of his own blood leak copiously. His breath brought fresh tears in his chest. Pain and nausea flooded his head, sickening his stomach and spinning his sandstone world like a carousel.

His hand lost grip of the pyramid, and his feet turned into rubber. Without stopping what was happening, James was falling, each bump jarring him, bringing about fresh breaks, tears, blood and pain.

But James could barely feel any more of it.

As he fell, his world increasingly turned black...

**********

"HuuhhhhhhhhhhH!!!!!!!!!!" James gasped his first lungful of air for... he did not know. Not a clue as to how long he was out. His last memory was Z'Jgk'Thur's knife, thrown through the ribs, and the fall that combined to kill him.

But alive he was. He felt around his wound. No blood. Even the tear on his uniform was repaired.

"WE HAVE RESTORED YOU TO HEALTH, HUMAN." The voice of the male being boomed.

The female added, "WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT THE HYDRAN WON THE CHALLENGE!"

~"Crap!"~ Corgan cursed to himself, looking around. He was back at the room of stars, with Z'Jgk'Thur beside him. The Hydran had a smug, self satisfying look to him as he held the stone idol in his two arms, while the third twirled the serrated knife in his hand, as if to mock James of his fate.

"INDEED HE HAS WON!" The male declared, "HE PROVED THAT HE WAS WILLING TO GO FARTHER AND DO WHAT YOU THOUGHT WAS UNTHINKABLE TO WIN, HUMAN! HE WANTED THE VICTORY MORE AND DID WHAT IT TOOK! THEREFORE HE WON!"

"Oh..." James sighed, "Then congrats to him. Does that mean he won?"

"NOT NECESSARILY!" The female screamed, "YOU HAVE WON THE FIRST CHALLENGE! YOU HAVE WON THE CHALLENGE OF SPIRIT AND MORALITY! YOUR MOTIVES IN THIS CONTEST WERE MORE PURE AND LESS SELF SERVING THAN THAT OF THE HYDRAN!"

"BUT HE HAD ONE THE CHALLENGE OF THE BODY, PROVING TO BE MORE ADEPT IN PHYSICAL CHALLENGES THAN YOU, AND IT WAS NOT JUST THE BODY ITSELF, BUT HOW HIS MIND AND SPIRIT WERE ALIGNED IN HIS GOAL TO CONQUER THE PHYSICAL!"

"YOU HAD DOUBT! YOU DID NOT DO WHAT IT TOOK! YOU LOST!"

"NO ALIGNMENT! NO VICTORY!"

"So we're tied!?" Corgan yelped.

"Impossible! I couldn't lose the first one! That is highly suspect!" Z'Jgk'Thur protested.

"SILENCE!" The male interjected.

The female said, "WE WERE BOTH IMPRESSED BY YOUR PERFORMANCES! YOU HAVE ALL GIVEN YOUR BEST, AND WE ARE NOT DISAPPOINTED!"

"HOWEVER... WE FEEL THAT BOTH OF YOUR RACES ARE NOT YET READY FOR THE GIFTS WE CAN BESTOW ON YOU!"

"THEREFORE... WE HAVE DECIDED TO SEND YOU BACK WITH NOTHING! BEGONE!

“Choosing your Therapist?”

By:

2nd Lieutenant Rayne Sutea

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London

**Seven Months Ago**

There was a sudden flash, and before realizing what had happened Rayne’s body was being tossed into the air like a rag doll. When she found the ground again, her skin tingled at first, as if somebody had placed a flame next to her, and she still wasn’t sure what had happened.

”What in the hell was that?” she uttered weakly, her outstretched arm reaching over for her phaser rifle. That was when she realized that her arm, no, her entire upper body was drenched in her own blood. “Oh my god… is anybody still alive? Rick, Marcus, Sam? Where are you guys?”

As soon as she gripped her weapon, she pulled herself around to try and find her comrades. A part of her was still in disbelief that anything like this could have happened. They had executed the breach perfectly; there was no way the intruders could have had time to react. Then she remembered how one of them had reached for something when the team was in the process of arresting them.

Rick Connaghey tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t go down…

“Rick!” Rayne cried, finding her friend’s body completely scoured of flesh and uniform. He was right there, right next to the damn grenade when it went off, now completely motionless. “Rick! Rick come on this isn’t funny, answer me.” She screamed, dragging herself towards him inch by inch. “Rick!”

***

The last of the Echani stood across from London as they stripped themselves of their armor and readied themselves for a desperately needed sonic shower. Today's exercise was as intense as any before, leaving both young women drained of their physical strength, and unwilling to move.

"Sometimes I think she does this on purpose..." Echani began, tilting her head to the side as she unclipped her armored suit and allowed it to crash to the floor with a satisfying thud. "That way it's not that we don't want to get into some trouble it's that we can't. I can barely lift my arms over my head, Branwen. So just how am I expected to break some fleeter's arm the next time he tries getting into my pants?" She joked teasingly.

“Train to get even stronger.” Bran joked back. She liked working out with the other young woman and she liked Echani although she didn’t know her very well. Bran had been very surprised when the new Lieutenant’s psyche file finally arrived. That with a strong recommendation to continue therapy.

“Uhm Echani.” She hated bringing this up. “Would you have time later today to stop by my office?"

"Huh? Sure Bran, no problem." Echani responded with a quick smile. "Why am I in trouble again?"

“Again?” Bran smiled. “No, you are not. It is just that your psyche file came in, and I would like to discuss a few things. You do know that I am a shrink as well, right?” She asked a little anxious.

"So..." Echani began, her voice a little smaller now. She wasn't sure exactly how to react to that because she wasn't sure what things Bran was referring to. Whether it would be about the death of her world, or the death of Rayne Sutea herself when she became The Last of the Echani. Or both. "...do we have to do that in your office? We're friends, right? Why not go to the lounge or something... that way it'll be like we're friends, and not like you're my shrink."

Echani had overcome most of her darkest demons when she became who she was. She knew that she wouldn't overreact, or fall apart as she had so many times years ago. She was strong not only because she had to be but because she wanted to be.

Branwen fidgeted a little. The rule books differed a little bit on this one. Some said it was okay to show parts of yourself to your clients or patients others said it wasn't. She had read a book about counseling on ships; it advocated finding some middle ground. In a small community it was almost impossible not to be friends with your patients. Yet you always had to have their best interests at heart.

"I would love to Echani. But there are rules, and they are to protect you. There has to be a boundary between what I do when I talk to you as a therapist and what I do when we are just friends. So I wouldn't mind finding a place outside of the office, yet that would have to be a place where we only talk when I am your psychologist. Agreed?" She hoped Echani would understand.

Echani gave her friend a curious look as she stood there for a moment, considering the situation. "Branwen, I know that you're trying to help but I can't be both your patient and your friend." Echani paused to phrase her next choice of words, knowing that they would have an effect. "I need to trust you, and I can't do that knowing that aspects of our every conversation are going to be compiled into some report."

Branwen thought for a long time. "Echani, I am just starting in my career, and I am afraid to make mistakes. If I see you as both a friend and a patient at the same time I could get severely reprimanded or even lose my license. It's not that I don't want to do it; I want to do it very much. I want to be your friend and be able to comfort you as a friend. But at the same time I think you have a lot of problems, and I would like to help you with those professional as well." She looked very troubled. "I keep my notes confidential. But if you think you would not trust me, you should see another shrink as only talk to me as a friend. That doesn't mean you couldn't talk about your problems, but I would answer as a friend." Inwardly she cursed. Finally a marine wanted to come to her, who trusted her, and the whole friend ship issue came between it. With ! such a small marine contingent powers is going to work if she had to keep everything separate?

Echani realized how tight a grip she had over her towel, and finally allowed the tension in her body to ease. "Look, if you want me to start seeing a psychologist I will, but it cannot be you. You are the one person on board this ship that I trust as a friend, even if you have a strange accent." Echani said with a small grin, now trying more than ever to ease the tension between her and Bran. "I don't want to lose everything I've gained with you Bran, I can't afford that. And that doesn't mean that I... won't talk to you about my problems, eventually. It's going to take! time Bran, I'm sure you can understand that."

"I think you will have to. Your psyche file states it very clearly." Branwen said apologetically. "And maybe you are better off with somebody else. I've got a lot of enthusiasm, yet I am only just starting out. Those navy shrinks have a lot of experience. You will be in good hands with them. And we can still be friends, and have girl’s nights." No need to tell Echani how much she would like to have her as a patient.

"Isn't there some sort of rule about telling patients how bad they are?" Echani responded with a smile, "Honestly I think you'd make a great shrink, and can only hope I get one just like you. If weren't such good friend I...” she paused for a moment, "well how about we finish getting cleaned up. I'm hungry as hell and with an Echani, that's never a good thing." Echani winked towards her friend. Even without physical contact she could tell that Bran was disappointed in the matter, but Echani had enough experiences with psychologists to know that a casual friendship usually goes out the window. She wouldn't mind talking to Bran about everything she would her own shrink, more even as it was a matter of trust. Echani trusted Bran enough to speak her heart out knowing that it wouldn't be seen on some report the next day. Confidential or not, it would have an impact on her career.

Bran sighed then smiled. “It’s okay. But you promise me you will see someone, and you will talk.” They were heading for the shower now together. “I would love to grab a bite to eat later on.”

Echani winked at her friend again as the two Marines stripped themselves of their sweat soaked uniforms and started the sonic shower. It felt great, and soothed Echani's sore muscles. "So what are you thinking of? Ten-Forward or the mess hall?" She asked as she raised her arms in order for the sonic waves to literally 'shake' off every speck of sweat and dirt she had underneath them.

"I think ten forward. It's more agreeable. And after working out I am not adverse to some comfort." Branwen was grinning again, her bubbly spirit returning to normal.

"Sounds good," Echani said with a sigh, not wanting to get out of the shower even if she felt clean. "Honestly I am craving that meal you showed me last week," she paused, looking over the curtain. "What was it called again?"

"You mean you liked my leek soup?" Branwen beamed. "It's like a national dish in Wales, where I come from. The shepherd’s pie I made is more English, don't tell anyone." She giggled.

Echani raised the brows of her eyes, not quite understanding why it was so important she keep that a secret, but shrugged it off as another unique earth trait. "Yeah, that one." She grinned again, finally grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her slender form before stepping out of the shower.

Bran stepped out without the towel and immediately started to scream as she noticed two male marines watching them grinning.

Echani reacted with nearly the same level of composure as Bran, covering herself up with her towel as best she could, although it was entirely too short. "You Jackasses, get the hell out of here!" She screamed, using almost every colorful metaphor that she had learned since leaving her home world. "Or I swear to whatever God you pray to you won't live long enough to have children."

Both marines waved their hands in mock fear, thinking that the young Echani would be too modest to come over and attack them given the fact that she only had a towel on for cover. Unfortunately for them, she also had a wide assortment of hard blunt objects, and a very good aim.

The first of which smacked right into one's face, sending him down to the ground hard.

"Echani no!" Branwen called out. "They just startled me for a moment." She grabbed a T-shirt, putting it on, and knelt next to the young man. "Put your head back, you idiot." She chided gently.

"They shouldn't have been peeping," Echani replied frustrated as she threw on a shirt as well. It wasn't like she could very well do anything given the fact that any contact without protection would establish a telepathic connection, but she leaned next to the Marine anyways. Once she saw the compassion in Bran's eyes she suddenly felt as though her action had been... a poor one. A Cultural Misunderstanding... she thought. It was something she heard several times ever since she left Echani.

She glanced down to the object she had thrown, realizing that it was a tricorder that had been set there accidentally. Yeah, I guess that would hurt. She thought, "great reflexes this one has..." she uttered lightly as Bran placed a cloth under his nose to stop the bleeding.

"The humans use this shower communally a lot. I just freaked because I don't like people to see me naked." She meant the scars on her back. "We have to get him to sickbay. And you Echani, you better apologized really nice."

Echani heaved an audible sigh as she glanced to the wounded marine, then back towards Bran. "Do I have to?" She asked, "I mean, you can't say he just accidentally watched as we came out of the showers." She replied, feeling the same tenseness of having somebody see her naked. To Echani, such things were considered... inappropriate.

"You don't have to, but if you don't I am not going to convince Rogers here that it was all a big mistake and there is no need to report it." Branwen said quietly.

"Brat..." she uttered towards Bran. Another sigh escaped Echani's lips as she reluctantly looked at the Marine in the eyes. Even with a t-shirt on she felt exposed, consciously afraid that he would touch her. "I'm sorry..." she said, more sincerely in tone than she expected it to come out. "Now let me get some cloths on and I'll help you take him to the doctor."

"Is that acceptable to you?" Branwen asked the male Marine. Who quickly gestured it was, not wanting to anger the women further. "Thank you. Just hold this over your nose while we finished dressing. And I would suggest you look the other way."

Echani reached over to take her uniform, sliding it over her body easily. It was a fresh uniform compared to that she had worn earlier, which was still drenched in sweat. Part of her wanted to keep the collar undone just a little bit because she still hadn't quiet settled down from all the excitement. As she pulled the collar around her neck she felt a reminder of her more turbulent times. Pulling her dark leather gloves on, the Last of the Echani once again sealed herself from physical contact with the world. "Bran..." she uttered lightly,

"Yes?" Her friend answered while she finished dressing herself."

When my world died, I shut down at the academy. I thought about just ending everything right there because why not... be it days, months, or years... soon the Echani would be completely extinct, and there would be nothing left to remember." She turned to face her closest friend since she had arrived on the Galaxy. "I didn't feel like there was any future left for me, and I was afraid. It took the death of a good friend for me to finally wake up. Ever since that day I've held everybody else at arms length, including you... and I'm sorry for that."

It was the first time Echani had really talked about her past, and it was a breakthrough. Branwen felt like hugging her, yet was somebody so frightened of physical contact, she didn't dare do that. "You don't have to apologies to me, Echani. I feel very honored that you are telling me now." She smiled gently.

Echani smiled faintly, "I thought you should know why I've been so distant. I guess I never expected you to be so persistent at making me your friend." Echani looked back up towards Bran, "Maybe that's a quality I need in somebody who is going to... help me become whole again, that is... if you're still willing to be my therapist."

"I will have to check with my supervisor, and we would have to have that division in place that I talked about. When I'm your therapist I will not act as your friend, yet outside of the therapy room I will always be there as your friend. You can lean on me, hon. It will get better”

Echani smiled, “Alright… well let’s get him off to sickbay then.”

<<Deep Space 5, Main Lounge>>

It had been an unusual past couple of weeks for Artim. Two weeks ago, Artim was graduating medical school and looking foward to getting to work. Now he was sitting in a starbase lounge absentmindedly swirling a glass of some exotic nectar from some alien world while staring out a window into space wishing he could be anywhere else. He was supposed to be meeting some fighter pilot with whom he'd be traveling with out to the Galaxy, a Terran named Lansky. When things got quiet like this, he started reflecting on things he'd rather not reflect on, especially when he realized what star he was looking at. Home

Or at least it had been, but that seemed like, and it was ages ago. M-2553 as the humans had designated it on their starcharts. Miri's planet as it came to be called. Its true name, even Artim had forgotten. For three centuries he'd lived there, watching the planet slowly die, pennance for treading on things that ought not be tred upon. Trying to prolong life and as a result destroying it. Eeking out a marginal exsistance with noone to look after you....

What was he thinking, that was a long time ago and he wouldn't have to go back to that life. He'd been once called one of the birghtest minds in the galaxy, by Romulans no less, and he looked like a child. Artim always appreciated the irony. He looked way too young to be wearing the uniform he now wore or achieved the things he had achieved and yet he was in reality way older then any of the beings he'd "grown up" with. He'd been stared at oddly several times since he sat down in the lounge. He'd been used to that, but something was still a bit weird here.

Despite all he'd seen and read about, he couldn't put his finger on it. Things just weren't right here. Everyone seemed distant, distracted, unfocused, restless even. Everyone, even the Vulcan's who'd he found were never really restless. The only time he'd seen anything like this was when...well, never. He'd been tempted to ask the stations medical officer if he could borrow a lab and some equipment and spend some time trying to figure out what was going on, but he learned that his youthful appearance was even harder on medical types. That and he was on leave. Before he came to the lounge he'd been in a holosuite fencing. Andorians looked great in the garb of 17th century France, though lace just didn't work on Naussicans. He'd have to adapt the program.

Sipping the nectar, Artim grinned. Soon he'd be out there again, in space. If only that pilot would get here...

OOC: Recently, I've been corrected on the rank structure for the Diplomatic Corps. Curran's correct rank is 'Vice-Legate', not 'Legate'. His equivalent Starfleet naval rank is and always has been Lt. Commander. Legate is the equivalent of Commander.

"A Test of Faith"

By Vice-Legate Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor (NPC), Deep Space 5 Command-Incumbent

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Commander Kedr'ni'van (NPC), Commanding Officer, Hammer of Progress

Tar'ji'Let (NPC) Tactical Officer, Hammer of Progress

Har'ja'fer (NPC), Science Officer, Hammer of Progress

***

Curran couldn't feel anything under his feet. In fact, he couldn't feel anything anywhere. Opening his eyes cautiously, remembering the blinding flash, he immediately drew taut with unwelcome fear with the sudden knowledge he was about to die.

He saw stars all around his periphery and knew that by the end of his thought, he would be dead, crystallized and imploded from the cold, unrelenting vacuum.

***

Olivia Proctor found herself gagging on brackish deck plating herself. Last thing she remembered was her head bent under a faucet washing her mouth out of the ship's waste systems that had made their way into her glass of top quality wine.

What really made her wretch was when the deck plating *undulated* under her.

***

**Hammer of Progress**

"Tactical, target their engines and weapons ports. Prepare to fire on my command." Kedr'ni'van, commanding officer of the Hammer of Progress, dug his taloned feet even deeper into the ridge of the dais his command chair resided on, ignoring the groans of dissent that rose up around him.

Tactical analysis displays rolled along both sides of the hexagon shaped viewscreen in the cramped main bridge of the Hydran battlecruiser. Only large enough to seat the Navigational officer, Tactical, Sciences, and Commander, it was designed with heavy armor protection in mind. The Bridge was deep within the core of the ship, surrounding by meters upon meters of compressed trilithium and organic scaling. But not even the added protection designed to withstand the destructive power of the Federation phaser cannon would protect the ship from the impending photon impact that would likely ignite the plasma trails of both starships and destroy them all.

The welfare of his ship and crew were tantamount. He would not allow the Starfleet infidels to rain down their terror on his people, no matter the cost. He would rather let history dictate he did not allow them to destroy everything around them. He would instead cripple the starship, and take it under his banner as a prize. The Queen would bestow glory upon him and the crew of the Hammer of Progress. Perhaps even rise higher in the Line of Succession. The Engineering castes would enjoy analyzing the phaser cannon for weakness and develop invaluable defenses against it.

Nothing would stop destiny. The gods were smiling upon him fortuitously. He raised one sinewy talon, clicking one claw at a time as he counted down.

***

Curran coughed uncontrollably. His lungs were on fire. He grew feverish. Was this what it was like to die in space?

The rush of trying to gather his last thoughts to allow himself a dignified death by staring it right in the maw with dignity and civilized manner allowed him to formulate that he should have been dead several seconds ago. His brain and organs should have frozen solid and been sucked out of every orifice as his body was twisted inside-out, leaving him a mangled mess, but quite dead.

Instead, he was hacking continually, his lungs fighting for any amount of oxygen to keep the body alive. By virtue of the cough alone, he was inhaling something.

***

'Livia Proctor scrambled back to a seated position when her hands caught up to her eyes in feeling the slick texture of the squirming floor. She cupped her mouth, holding back another bout of nausea. The bile burned in her throat, joined with the metallic taste of her tongue as she bit down when she got a look at her surroundings and knew she wasn't in Kansas anymore.

***

"Tar'ji'Let, f-" A sudden fit of coughing burst out behind his conn. Spinning around, one foot clamping around after the other to gain a foothold, the leathery floor shrieked in protest as the claws dug into the skin of the organic materials. Puncture holes coiled into themselves from where Kedr'ni'van had gripped it formerly, healing quickly ever as dark purplish ooze seeped out. The Hydran commander spun his seat around at the offending sound, shortly trailed by his eyelets scrambling at the unseemly sight.

***

Proctor couldn't hold it back. She flew into a coughing frenzy when her body had relapsed back into its state of a need for increased oxygen and taken deep gulps of methane gas into her lungs. She doubled over, his vision dancing with spots, not even noticing the claws reaching down to grasp her by the collar and haul her up in the air.

"Tar'ji'Let, take us into an orbit above the Starfleet ship, out of their targeting sensors of the torpedoes. Reinforce the keel shields and keep us parallel. Our shields should be enough to repel any of their phaser fire long enough for us to eliminate key targets." The eyestalks scurried like Medusan snakes around the Admiral, who was now going limp in his grip. She would have passed out if not for the hacking. Blood flecked her lips. He clucked his tongue against razor sharp teeth.

"Looks like we have an infestation again. It's been some time since Charuk has eaten exotic meats." Carrying Proctor by the scruff did little for her dignity. She fought wanly against the behemoth, to no avail. Even as she felt the embers of her consciousness fade with her strength, still she clawed at the curved pincer with one hand, and tried to put any eye out with the other.

Kedr'ni'van stopped next to Har'ja'fer's station, and tapped two clawpoints together. "Medkit."

Har'ja'fer reached to the sidepanel on the console, rotated a spherical lever adapted to each individual claw, and removed a three-sided container as the panel slid aside.

"Commander," Tar'ji'Let interjected somberly, as if all was in order, "the infidel's weapons have gone offline...."

The Hydran commander had extracted a cylinder from the container, motioning Har'ja'fer to take it. The Scientist proceeded to assemble the item.

"Another infidel life sign detected. Mapping room. Life signs weak."

"Beam him here. Charuk is blessed today." The deckplating shuffled under his feet, emitting a throaty hum.

The hum of the transporter filled the main bridge, and as the form materialized on the deck, Kedr'ni'van waved his third arm at the other Science officer situated closest. Immediately, he too retrieved the same item from a medkit enclosed on his console, assembling it at no great speed.

As the form of the Kelvan liaison officer materialized and thumped to the deck in convulsions, the Admiral took the distraction as an opportunity to bite the Hydran's bulky bicep, drawing blue blood. At the same time, she kicked him where a human male would drop like a rock from, but the Hydran simply grunted in surprise. Still, he lost grip on the woman, who grasped what she hoped to be a phaser out of the recessed panel.

Snatching the newly mask out of Har'ja'fer's claws, she took up a stance at the foot of the Bridge, blocking the viewscreen.

"And you said I had no mind for tactics, Kelvan. I showed you now, didn't I, hmm?" She breathed the oxygen mask deep, feeling her lungs expand as she lightly coughed out the remainders of the methane. Curran had struggled to his feet, breathing through his own mask deeply now. The mapping room had had no Hydrans in it, therefore the concentration of methane to converted oxygen was much higher.

"This is not tactics, Admiral." Kylar's voice came through hollow, much like Proctor's confession. "It's cowardice. There's no honor or advanced thought in feigning injury or illness worse than you actually are."

"In the name of Starfleet, you are all under arrest for crimes against the citizens of the Federation, and perpetrating violence and murder on Starfleet personnel. You were about to destroy the Galaxy and claim this world as your own."

Kedr'ni'van did something quite unexpected. He laughed.

"We have done nothing, infidel. We're not subject to your laws. Your words are nothing, the words of a heathen, desecrating the gospel of our gods.'

"Don't call me that!! You are in Federation space, and subject to our laws. You reptiles signed a treaty. You'll do as I tell you. Now," she waved the box at him, "power down your weapons, and lower your shields. We're taking you in tow to Starbase 212."

"Admiral, do not presume to quote law when you are not a lawyer. Not even I know all the nuances of the Treaty of Ivor. Do not make the mistake you do as well."

"Are you siding with them, 'Legate? That's treason. You'll be hanged for this."

"I side with diplomacy, Admiral, not glory seekers. This is wrong. Put down the weapon."

Kedr'ni'van had watched with baited interest, tallying the two supposed allies. He relished the fact that he may not have acquired the Federation starship, but the bridge logs were recording every moment.

"Glory seekers? How *dare* you! Unlike you, my duty comes first, coward. If it wasn't for us, your kind would be subjugated to a backwater civilization with dreams of wishing you were like us. You're nothing. If anything, you're jealous of us, since we accomplished what you couldn't. I mean, look! You even took our form, knowing we're the top of the food chain.

"The Federation is the epitome of peace and prosperity. And we're not going to let anything get in the way of our own progress. Not even leatherface here, with his golf-ball sized brain, can comprehend the wheels turning on that path. So sit down, shut up, and stay out of military business."

The boxy woman turned her weapon on Tar'ji'Let. "Keep your ugly nails away from that console, reptile, before I send you back to the egg you came from."

"Admiral, put the weapon down. You have no legal defense."

"They were going to fire on the ship, for gods sake," This ensured a gasp from the Hydran contingent. "It's more than enough reason. Drop the damn shields and weapons!"

"The Galaxy initiated hostilities first, Admiral."

"It must have been a mistake, or the reptiles provoked them."

"Are you willing to take that chance?"

Har'ja'fer took the confrontation as a lull in Proctor's guard. He dove across the console at the woman, amidst a protest from his commander. Too late, as instinct took over for the Admiral as she depressed the trigger on the item where it lanced across the bridge at the Hydran scientist, decapitating him instantly. His body carried itself as far as it could across the console on momentum alone, finally dropping with a thud across it. The head bounced off his arm and dropped to the deck, where the floor immediately erupted around it. In mere seconds, it retreated, leaving only a yellowed skull.

'Livia stared in shock. A phaser bolt blasted across the bridge and into Proctor, crumpling her to the floor. Curran immediately rushed to her side, hoping to prevent any more bloodshed.

But the Hydrans did nothing, only humming in place.

Kedr'ni'van's voice carried over the din.

"The die has been cast. The fates have spoken. This will not go unpunished, but not today, or tomorrow, or mayhap a month from now. But rest assured, it will come, and you will shake before the awesome power of Shikhal, Destroyer of the Unclean. Be watchful. Now, we must all embark on our trials."

Curran shook his head, not understanding Kedr'ni'van. Before he could question the comment, the familiar tingle grasped him again.

****

Deck 1
Main Bridge
USS Galaxy

"The Hammer of Progress is breaking orbit, Captain... shall we plot a course to follow?"

Daren M'Kantu pondered for a moment as Cameron Bartlett passed on the unexpected news. First, the ships torpedo tubes had loaded without consent, then shut down. Khatrowen had most likely succeeded in his endeavor. Then, the Hydran ship had changed orbit before the torpedoes had shut down. Their weapons had gone hot, placing the bridge in a serious position of likely being a priority target. Now, the Hydrans were breaking orbit.

"Captain... you're not going to believe this... communications are back online, and we're getting reports of missing crew just showing up with Hydrans." Lt. Tarin was as bewildered as he was. Coincidence? Or perhaps their own test of faith?

**Several days later**

"... USS Pompeii and Basilisk reporting in to relieve you of your duties, Captain."

The Captain of the USS Galaxy, having lived in his Ready Room for the past several days while crew were being recovered, Hydran Imperial Guards being taken into custody, and filling out reports of all formats made out in triplicate, felt a burden lift off his shoulders.

"Pompeii, Basilisk, she's all yours. We're making steam for Deep Space 5." Next time Admiral Price diverts him for a simple mission, he's putting in for leave. Nothing's ever simple when it comes to that man and his former command.

OOC: I actually wasn't sure if the Galaxy had a chapel or not. Guess it does now. ;)

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

"Amazing Grace"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

In quiet solitude, a figure knelt alone in the ship?s chapel. The artificial lighting muted to a bare minimum, its harshness was replaced by the more natural and spiritually compatible glow of candles, their shimmering flames casting unsteady shadows on the walls behind them. A tranquil mood enveloped the room, manifested in a silent transcendence of the utilitarian physical surroundings.

Over the last several months Jeremy Savoie had become something of a changed man -- quiet, contemplative, and inwardly-focused. His temporary hosting of the Trill symbiont had been difficult, very nearly fatal. What had enabled him to cling to the fringes of life was unclear to him. It could have been the skill of the Galaxy?s medical staff; it might have just been dumb luck. Jeremy, however, saw it differently. In fact, since the far too close brush with death he saw many things, perhaps everything, differently. From somewhere deep within, packed away with the accumulation of memories and lessons from childhood, a renewed sense of the Spiritual was reborn. As far as he believed, whatever guise it may have taken in the material world, it was nothing less than the hand of God that had saved him.

And saved him it had, in many ways from much more than mere corporeal death. Not least among them was the fact that he had managed to retain his position as the Galaxy?s chief helmsman. That too could have been explained as the result of skill (his own), luck, or perhaps just the benevolence of Darren M?Kantu ? or divine intervention. It had also saved him from destroying not only his career, but the only significant relationship he had at this point in his life. Since his recovery, a closer and more meaningful bond had developed between him and Erin. On one level, their relationship had cooled, its sexual dimension removed from the mix but replaced by something like a deeper, mellower, more matured friendship. Neither he nor Erin knew whether or not that change would be permanent, but they both accepted and invested their emotional energy in it. But most of all, it saved him from himself, from the negative, cynical, volatile man he had become, to the beginnings of a ! transformation into someone he was only barely getting to know but thought he could love.

Despite his new-found faith, part of him was still scared, scared that he really didn?t deserve this second chance on life which, like the flames of the candles that flickered before him now, could be snuffed out in a strong wind. So while reserving some of his focus for his duty and for his relationship with Erin, most of his energy went into nurturing this new part of himself that now anchored his entire view of the universe. It was, he felt, the least he could do.

Rising slowly, Savoie stood where he was, his head bowed for a final moment of prayer. He tugged the folds out of his uniform, then walking a little taller and a little lighter than he had only a few months ago, he left to begin his shift.

"Test 3: Mind's Fire."

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
And G'Iv Z'Jgk'Thur, Hydran Command

Location: Temple Ruins Zone, Mirusa VI

"THEREFORE... WE HAVE DECIDED TO SEND YOU BACK WITH NOTHING! BEGONE!"

So was the decree of the male 'god', who's superior evolution and powers backed up the judgement in ways that James and Z'Jgk'Thur could not match. One fell swoop, and the contests the 'gods' forced the Hydran and the Human to do like gladiators... was for nothing.

James was already feeling the sense of betrayal, much like a dupe under the victimization of a Ferengi con artist.

He could only guess what Z'Jgk'Thur was feeling, but it was a good guess that he felt angered and hurt. Out of the two contestants, Z'Jgk'Thur had the most on the line. His countrymen, his rise to the ranks, and his station were all pinned on the hopes of winning this contest. James only had his fellow officers and some scientists, otherwise the prize he sought could be found eventually.

He could, therefore, sympathize more readily to Z'Jgk'Thur's situation, while walking away without feeling much loss.

But to be conned by an arrogant, disembodied voice? That James could not ignore with a final parting shot.

Z'Jgk'Thur was first to fire, "WHAT?!?! You give us such grandiose promises, and you fail to deliver in return? Why do you toy with us like this?"

"LISTEN TO THE HYDRAN, DEAR SISTER!" The male 'god' boomed.

"YES! HE IS FULL OF ARROGANCE!" The female commented.

"HE THINKS THE GODS ARE MEANT TO SERVE HIS PEOPLE!"

"IT NEVER OCCURS TO HIM THAT THE PEOPLE ARE MEANT TO SERVE GODS!"

"TYPICAL ORGANIC ARROGANCE!"

"THAT IS WHY WE CANNOT GIVE YOU WHAT YOU SEEK, HYDRAN! YOU TAKE OUR GIFTS, BUT YOUR REVERENCE IS ONLY SUPERFICIAL! SHALLOW! YOU TAKE OUR GIFTS AND SING OUR PRAISES, BUT YOU WILL NOT GIVE THANKS NOR SACRIFICE ENOUGH OF YOURSELF! AND WHEN YOU ARE DENIED, YOU CURSE US READILY! IS THAT HOW YOUR RACE THANKS GODS?!"

Z'Jgk'Thur stuttered, "I mean no disrespect... but you promised!"

"WE PROMISE GIFTS TO THE WORTHY! YOU ALONE HAVE PROVEN YOU ARE NOT!" The male's voice cracked like thunder.

"Well." James shrugged, "We lose out. Can we go on with our mission now?"

The female added, "SILENCE! WHAT IS WORSE ARROGANCE, EXPECTING GODS TO BE YOUR SERVANTS... OR TREATING SUPERIOR BEINGS LIKE YOURSELVES LIKE EQUALS?!"

James had to think for a second, but answer he did, "Who said you were superior?"

"DO YOU NOT BEHOLD OUR POWER?!" The male argued.

"Sure I do, you're powerful. That's for sure." James nodded, "You can talk to us without being there. You can teleport us seamlessly. You also tend to manipulate your environment. But you know what? So do WE... on a lesser level. And so what if you are disembodied beings? We encountered the likes of you before on other worlds. And more often than not they tout about how their superior intellect or power makes them superior beings. The problem is... they are just like us. Emotional, prone to be dedicated to tasks that, translated after all the metababble they throw out is just plain, mundane paperwork. They also have petty likes, dislikes, struggles, goals, interests, games... just like us. So they can do more powerful things, sure. But take away the powers and they are just like me. No superior intellect or emotions. Just like me. Just like us. That... is what I propose you two are. So therefore I will reason with you like a man, and not a worshipper."

"GODLESS HEATHEN..."

"Ah!" James wagged his finger, "Don't assume. You two are supposed to be gods, right? Try acting like one and actually learn more about me. I believe there are omnipotent beings such as god... with my life and the events therein it is hard to discredit that theory. But as for you two being gods... no. You two are just really f**king powerful, that's all."

"OH?" The female voice hummed, "YOU DO NOT REVERE US!"

"No... not really. But then again, I don't revere Vulcans. They play the superiority card all the time... but I don't call them my leaders. However... I do respect them. They have abilities that amaze me... much like how your powers do give me a healthy respect for you guys."

"They are tricksters!" Z'Jgk'Thur snapped, "Let us leave them, human! They will do nothing but curse us! I spit at them!"

"Yes... but they are tricksters that can smite us if they choose. Try to be nice, G'iv." James sighed.

The Hydran slinked behind James, cowed as the Male voice cracked the heavens itself. "YOU DO NOT WORSHIP OR REVERE US, BUT YOUR RESPECT OUR POWER! YOU DO NOT CONSIDER US YOUR SUPERIOR IN MIND, BUT IN EVOLUTION! FOOLISH HUMAN! THERE IS NO EVOLUTION OF MIND WITHOUT THE EVOLUTION OF BODY AND SPIRIT!"

"WE ARE SUPERIOR IN ALL ASPECTS!" The female snarled, "THAT IS WHY YOU LOSE! YOU ARE NOT CONVINCED OF OUR TRUE SUPERIORITY! IT LEADS TO SMUGNESS! HYPOCRICY!"

"YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE! YOU CANNOT TOUT SUPERIORITY!"

"I didn't say I was better..."

"SILENCE! WE SEE BEYOND YOUR WORDS! YOU THINK US CHILDISH AND PETTY WITH OUR TESTS! BUT WHAT OF YOUR ORGANIC'S NEED FOR WAR, RESOURCES, CONQUEST!? YOUR FEDERATION IS ARROGANT AND HYPOCRITICAL IN THIS REGARD, CLAIMING TO LOVE PEACE AND HATE EXPANSION, YET FIGHTING WARS WITH YOUR NEIGHBORS AND TAKING PLANETS NOT ORIGINALLY YOURS!"

"YOUR RACE, IF IT WAS TRUE TO ITS BELIEFS... WOULD STAY ON THEIR PLANET AND NEVER MOVE, AND NEVER GO THROUGH WAR AGAIN!"

"Bullsh*t!" Corgan growled, "I don't need to justify my race's actions! They are bastards at time! But you know what? I don't want war! But I finish it anyways because if we tried your way, we would be a long dead species! You would ask for us to not fight and allow others to kill us without raising a phaser! How is that any way to live?!"

"BUT YOU LOVE PEACE! YOU CONSIDER IT SACROSANCT TO ALL ELSE! AND YET YOU LOVE DESTRUCTION AND WILL USE IT AS A MEANS OF CONTROL!"

"I PERSONALLY DON'T!" Corgan argued back, "I would rather not fight wars! If I had to go through my career without drawing my phaser like most of my fellow security chiefs then I would be happy! I have been in the largest, bloodiest war in our Federation's history! I saw what people like the Hydrans and the Klingons saw as glory... and I saw nothing but slaughter that was cold and contemptuous! I saw a conqueror race that made no secret of their intentions to subjugate us all, and I killed many of them! If I didn't... they would have harmed the people that I serve to protect. They would no longer have the peaceful life that they prefer over war."

"BUT WAR YOU PARTICIPATE IN NONETHELESS!"

"Hey... I find that starting wars is wrong. Finishing them so that we are no longer harassed by the enemy... I see no problem. But even that has its own host of problems. How far do we go? What weapons do we use? Have we killed too much, too little? As the Federation, we have to deal with these moral qualms... some see it as hypocrisy because sometimes we do something that may be cruel or excessive. But at least we question our actions before we do it. We question the morality of our actions and come to a concensus. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes a person will follow through with an action I'd find abhorrent without consensus. Sometimes we'll be fooled into believing a wrong action is right. But always as a people we ask ourselves whether or not IT IS WRONG!"

There was a long pause, without a voice in sound to be heard. "So, are you satisfied?" James said, "Any other moral dilemmas you want to grill me about on behalf of my race and my Federation? Do you want to prove that you're still superior in mind as well as evolution? Go ahead, throw me another, but after this just let me the hell out! I'm getting f**king sick of all this, especially since you have told me it will get me nowhere! Just tell me how to find the missing people, and if not, let me go like you promised..."

"NO! DO NOT LEAVE YET!" The female begged as James turned to walk off.

Corgan halted, turning his head, "Excuse me?"

"DO NOT LEAVE YET!" The female begged again, "WE ARE NOT FINISHED WITH YOU!"

Z'Jgk'Thur slithered, "Wait... you did not order him to stop."

"NO, SHE DID NOT" The male interjected, "SHE REQUESTED THE HUMAN'S PRESENCE! WHAT OF IT?!"

Z'Jgk'Thur replied, more confident, "You are gods! You can do what you want! You treat this human like an equal! How absurd!"

There was a long silence, at which the Hydran sweated increasingly as he waited for the god's response. James Corgan, was ready to leave, his curiosity bolding his feet to the sandstone floor, waiting impatiently for what the gods had to say.

It was not what they said, it was what they laughed. Heartily, throatily, both male and female laughed as if enjoying a great and complex game.

"Huh?" Corgan sighed, "Are they nuts?"

"DEAR Z'JGK'THUR... YOU ARE INDEED A DETERMINED SPIRIT!" The male voice thundered, "WE KNOW OF YOUR PLIGHT! YOU ARE OF POOR STANDING, MADE WHAT YOU ARE ONLY BY YOUR DETERMINATION! BUT THAT ALONE IS A GLASS CEILING, IS IT NOT?!"

"WE WERE TOO HARSH ON YOU, HYDRAN! WE TOOK ADVANTAGE OF YOUR REVERENCE, THEN TORE YOU DOWN WHEN WE BACKED DOWN ON OUR PROMISES! FORGIVE US?!?"

"Ummm..." Bewildered, the Hydran replied, "What game do you play with me?"

"PLAY WITH BOTH OF YOU, I'M AFRAID." The male answered, "WE HAVE LIED TO YOU. WE ARE SORRY... BUT IT WAS ALL PART OF THE THIRD TEST, MY GOOD FRIEND Z'JGK'THUR!"

The female elaborated, "YES, WE ARE SORRY! THE FIRST TEST WAS YOUR SPIRIT! FOR THAT, WE WERE MORE IMPRESSED BY THE HUMAN'S SELFLESSNESS. THE HYDRAN WAS MOTIVATED BY GREED, BUT WE DID NOT BEGRUDGE THAT, FOR WEALTH WAS JUST A MEANS TO AN END TO YOU. IT REALLY DID NOT MATTER THAT MUCH TO BE RICH AND WELL OFF... YOU JUST WANTED TO PROVE AN EQUAL TO YOUR SOCIAL BETTERS."

The Hydran officer blushed over his mottled skin, "Please... not in front of the human. He didn't need to know that I was a..."

"Untouchable?" James asked. The Hydran looked at James, confused.

"YES... AN UNTOUCHABLE... A HYDRAN EQUIVALENT. LOWER CLASS." The Female confirmed, to Z'Jgk'Thur's annoyance.

"Ahhh..." James nodded his head, "So that's it. Why G'iv Z'Jgk'Thur... under that gruff, superior Hydran personality you used to hide yourself... I didn't think you were actually a regular man like me."

"Grrrrrr..." Z'Jgk'Thur growled, embarrassed.

"Heh..." James snickered.

"DEAR HUMAN," The male interrupted, "YOU STILL LOST THE PHYSICAL CHALLENGE, THE CHALLENGE OF THE BODY! THE HYDRAN HAD MORE OF A DESIRE TO WIN! HE KILLED YOU TO DO IT! WE HAD TO USE OUR POWER TO HEAL YOU!"

"Heh..." James laughed, "No harm, no foul, right, G'iv?"

"Shut up." Z'Jgk'Thur muttered.

"DO NOT MIND THE HYDRAN, DEAR HUMAN, FOR HE HAS YEARS OF XENOPHOBIA INVOLVING YOUR RACE TO OVERCOME! IT IS NOTHING PERSONAL!"

"IT IS SO! BLOODY HUMANS! STUPID GODS!" The Hydran shot back.

The female voice laughed in a sing song, airy quality, "DEAR HYDRAN, DO NOT FEEL SO ILL TREATED! WE HAD GREAT SPORT HERE, AND WE DO LOVE YOU SO!"

"BUT WE MUST APOLOGIZE AGAIN!" The male cut in, "FOR YOU STILL LOST THE CHALLENGE OF THE MIND! YOU SHOULD HAVE SPOKE UP MORE, DEAR HYDRAN! IT IS THERE THE HUMAN EXCELLED!"

"What?!" Z'Jgk'Thur and James said at once. For Z'Jgk'Thur, he was surprised to learn his defeat.

For James, he was surprised to learn that he won.

"But... you said..." James stammered, "We both lost."

"NONSENSE!" The male throatily guffawed, "THAT WAS MERE BAIT, TO PROMT YOU BOTH TO ARGUE! WE BAITED YOU SO READILY, BUT YOU WERE THE ONE THAT EXPLAINED YOURSELF AND YOUR PEOPLE THE BEST! YOU WON!"

James full attention came to the gods in the sky, unseen but heard. Z'Jgk'Thur, behind him and grumbling as if he was the brunt of an elaborate practical joke, snarled and stamped in his futility.

Corgan asked, "So... I told you what I wanted... more or less. What did I win?"

"The Adventures of Alice and Prince Charming"

(backpost; takes place right after the events of Alice and the Trickster)

8-ball Hunter
Vrih Himne

The door had opened. 8-ball was free. She had escaped M'lshnok, or whoever he was, and therefore escaped the homicidal statues ready to start slicing and dicing. No more riddle rooms of death for her. She was done. She was finished.

She couldn't have possibly expected the next room to be even MORE complicated.

But it was. Because while the room wasn't pitch black, and there were no freaky mirrors, and there weren't even any gods demanding riddles out of her, the room wasn't empty. There was a man in it. And not just any man.

The ex-boyfriend man.

8-ball just stared at Himne for a minute. She then quickly ran to him, gave him a hug that said thank God I'm alive and not alone anymore, and then stepped back as if the hug had never happened. "Jesus CHRIST," she said. "What the hell are YOU doing here?

Vrih Himne just stared at her strangely - he too was shocked by the whole situation, the nasty gash on his knee being testament to the danger he was now in. Green blood oozed out of the nasty cut, and the attaché was limping slightly. His expensive clothes were torn at the shoulders and arms, but he had no other injuries

Finally Himne smiled, glad to see another person - whoever it was. "8-Ball, I... what in the name of Romulus just happened? I was here with the rest of the away team as the Rihannusu representative, then everything changed..." Suddenly the pain in his leg was too much, and he crumpled to the ground with a moan of agony.

"Hnaev," he swore loudly. "It seems this place got me - I'll never make it out of here. It was nice bumping into you 8-Ball, but you'd better go on and save yourself." He screeched again as he tried to stop the bleeding from his knee gash with no success.

8-ball rolled her eyes, even though she was concerned about Himne. "Don't be an idiot," she told him as she moved back towards him. "I've been through way too much shit to abandon the first person I see, even if he did dump me. Besides, your leg's just injured. You're not dying or anything. Don't be melodramatic."

8-ball sat down next to him and examined his leg. Not being a medical examiner, however, all she really figured out was that it was bleeding a lot. "This doesn't look good," she said. "How did you get hurt, anyway?" Without waiting for answer, 8-ball looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to bandage the leg, found nothing, and then glared at Himne. "You're buying me a new uniform," she told him, and tore at her uniform's left sleeve until it ripped off. She tied it around Himne's leg and waited for him to explain what had happened, and, more importantly, if he knew how to get out of here.

"I went... into this lit room," Himne drew ragged breaths as 8-Ball pushed on the wound. "Then, immediately it went dark. Suddenly I had a sword in my hand - a curved, ornate sword, as if it were of Rihannusu design - and this two-sword wielding creature was coming towards me. Because of the darkness, I couldn't see much of it."

"What is it with those wacky black-out rooms," 8-ball muttered under her breath, and then let Himne continue.

"There was no way I could beat it if I couldn't see it. So for a while I flailed uselessly in the darkness. But then the creature - it made a mistake; it went for a crippling blow to the knee rather than a fatal blow to the head. It wanted to see me suffer in agony first."

"But," Himne continued, managing to stand up now 8-Ball had at least staunched the bleeding. "Some of my blood splattered over the creature, and now the creature had a bright green marker on it. So I got it."

"The room went totally pitch black, and then I found myself here. In a room with no obvious exits," Himne finished, leaning slightly on 8-Ball for support.

"Thanks for the help," he said, grinning in an attempt to inject humour into an otherwise grim situation. "But I didn't dump you, by the way - it was a mutual separation, remember?"

8-ball didn't get the joke. "Don't start with me," she said. "I was NOT the one who came up with the idea of 'lets take a break, cool off, and be friends. Let's just try to find a way out of here, all right?" With Himne supported against her, 8-ball slowly walked over to the walls of the room and tried to feel for a door or anything out of the ordinary. So far, nothing. "Any bright ideas?" she asked.

"Maybe a trapdoor in the floor?" Himne suggested, scanning the ground for any obvious signs of an exit. But there was nothing.

"Or what about..." Himne said, trailing off as he looked up at the ceiling. "An exit above us." And, surely enough, there was some type of ceiling trapdoor.

However, there was another problem - the ceiling was at least six feet above them.

"I guess now it's your turn for the bright ideas," Himne said to 8-Ball dejectedly, slumping his shoulders in despair.

"Don't be so depressed," 8-ball said. "At least there aren't any gooey reflections or psychotic gods trying to kill us." She waved off Himne's confused look. "So there is an exit, if no furniture to stand on or anything. Normally, I'd say let's try me standing on your shoulders, but you can barely support yourself right now. And I don't think I'm quite strong enough to hold you on my shoulders. I mean, you aren't pudgy or anything, but I'm kind of a shrimp, and not particularly strong or mighty in the ways of holding up ex-boyfriends on my shoulders." She made an unhappy face. "I suppose we could try."

"No," Himne shook his head vigorously. Even the agonising pain in his leg could not overcome his pride, and his pride would not allow 8-Ball to do the exerting work. If anyone did the lifting, it would be him. An honourable man would not want a woman to do intensive labour if at all possible, at least in Rihannusu society.

"Rihannusu have higher bone density, so I'll be too heavy," Himne said truthfully, bracing himself for 8-Ball to climb up. "I'll support you."

8-ball shrugged. "Whatever you say, sugar." Himne knelt down so 8-ball could climb up on his shoulders and then stood up. 8-ball touched her hands against the trap door. She could only just barely reach it. She pushed at it but it wouldn't open and Himne staggered under her. "Whoa," 8-ball said, trying to stabilize herself on Himne shoulders. "You okay?" she asked him to which he grunted.

"Good," 8-ball said, and tried to push the door open again. It wouldn't budge. "Oh come on, you stupid piece of crap thing! Open up!"

As she said this, a soft light exuded from the trap door and 8-ball could see something being etched into the door. Maybe a message, or a riddle, or some kind of ominious death threat. When the glow retreated and 8-ball could see exactly what she was looking at, she was kind of disappointed.

1 Down: 3 letter acronym commonly used to describe the 'Federation'

1. Across: 9 letter word for Romulan

8-ball glared at the etching. "THAT'S our test? Not a battle of wills or a riddle machine of death, but a fucking crossword puzzle?" 8-ball shook her head. "That just seems silly. Well, One down is the UFP, but how do I write. . ." As she said the answer, the glow began again and the letters UFP scratched into the surface.

"Oh," 8-ball said. "Neat. Hey, Vrih? How you doing? It looks like we have to solve this crossword puzzle thing to open the trap door. Isn't the lamest thing you ever heard? Anyway, how exactly does one spell Rihannusu, cause that's m----holy shiiiiiit!"

Himne staggered under her again and 8-ball couldn't keep her balance this time. She fell to the floor, nose first. "Ow," she muttered into the ground.

"8-Ball, are you alright?" Himne looked down at her with concern.

"No," 8-ball muttered as she sat up. She was, actually, all right, despite her nose and her right knee hurting like a bitch. Then, when Himne was still looking at her worriedly, she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Vrih. I'd say that just my pride's hurt except at this point, I don't think I have any more pride." She stood up.

"Shall we try this again?" Himne asked as 8-Ball climbed onto his shoulders, a hint of irritation now entering his voice. "Though try to be more careful this time - my leg is getting more and more painful by the second."

"Oh, like I was trying to fall," 8-ball said and then looked up at the crossword. "Oh, fuck!"

He heard her swear with annoyance and looked up. To his dismay, he saw that the crossword had been erased - they would have to start again.

"Well, that just sucks," 8-ball muttered. "We have to get this stupid thing done in one shot, or we'll never get out of here." She started on the crossword puzzle.

Ten minutes later, and halfway through the crossword puzzle, Himne's knee gave and 8-ball fell down again, this time on her ass. "Jesus," she swore in pain. "I think I broke my butt."

"Hnaev," Himne swore, his voice laced with anger. "Can you try to keep your balance for a protracted period of time, and then we might possibly escape this pit?"

8-ball glared up at him. "Okay, you can stop acting like it's all my fault right now. It's not like you're an easy person to stand on when you're wobbling around like a freaking spacemonkey." She climbed up on Himne's shoulders. . .again. . .and looked up to where the crossword puzzle had gone blank. "Fuck!" she swore, and then started the puzzle over. In between clues, 8-ball said, "You know, Vrih, this is all your fault."

Himne staggered slightly, but not enough for 8-Ball to lose her balance. "What? How in the name of Romulus is this my fault? Are you now starting to lose your sanity as well as your sense of balance, 8-Ball?"

"You know, buddy, I don't think I had any real sanity to begin with," 8-ball snapped, "and after the shit I've gone through in the last couple of hours, it wouldn't be that big of a surprise. And you know what, you're right, I don't know how it's your fault, I don't know why it's your fault; I just know that I'm blaming you. Here I've been for the last few weeks, hoping that we might reconcile or something, thinking we could get back together even though you DUMPED me on the fucking COMM system, but you know, I missed you and I like you and I wanted to get back together. And now you're here and bitching because you're poor knee is hurt when I just barely escaped death, like, three times in a row, and you have the nerve to insult my sense of balance when you're wobbling around like the universe's drunkest Klingon, and I freaking hate you! 15 down, two words, nine letters for arrogant asshole: oooh, I got this one, it's Vrih Himne."

The crossword puzzle started to glow again and suddenly the trap door slid open. 8-ball blinked at it in surprise. "Hey," she said. "It worked."

"Huh," Himne grunted in mild shock - he wouldn't have described himself as an 'arrogant asshole,' but apparently 8-Ball and whoever (or whatever) made the crossword thought alike.

However, none of it mattered since they had cracked the exit - now all they had to do was get up there. Himne's shoulders strained as 8-Ball clambered up through the trapdoor. Once there, she could reach out and pull him up into what hopefully was the exit from this insidious place.

"What do you see?" Himne called, as 8-Ball climbed through.

"Not a lot," 8-ball replied dryly as she looked around. The room above the crossword test was less a room than an extremely tight shaft that reminded her of a minaturized Jeffries tube. The tube wasn't completely dark but the lights were dim enough that it took a few minutes for 8-ball to realize there was a hatch at the end of the tunnel. The hatch had a sign on it that glowed a very dull red. The sign said, FINAL EXIT.

"Yeeesss!" 8-ball said, and looked back down to her "arrogant asshole" ex-boyfriend. Of course, the clue hadn't actually said 'arrogant asshole' but 8-ball saw no reason to inform Himne of that. She figured it would do Himne some good, thinking that everybody in the universe man, or alien psycho god alike, thought he was a jerk. "There's an exit," she told him. "Thank the gods. All of them. Now let's get you up."

Getting Himne up through the trap door proved to be easier said than done. They managed it on their third attempt, but it was a near thing, and both were exhausted afterwards. "You're heavy," 8-ball complained as she caught her breath in the tunnel.

"It's all muscle," Himne shot back, which was partly true. After all, he was far from what humans would call flabby - but, then again, he was not what they would call a male model either, at least in terms of physique.

"Look, 8-Ball, I..." Himne hesitated and glanced away from her shyly (which was a neat trick in such a small tunnel) before looking earnestly into her eyes. "I wanted to say thanks for helping me back there, and I want you to know that I would have done exactly the same for you, without hesitation."

8-ball blinked. That sort of ruined her righteous anger right there. Dammit.

"Anyway," he grinned. "Let's get out of this place." He moved eagerly to the exit, waiting for it to slide open. When nothing happened, he began searching for a handle or mechanism of some type. But there was nothing that would allow it to open.

As he pounded the door in frustration, a small inscription suddenly appeared on the door.

"Only those honest about their feelings may pass," he read in disbelief, before turning to look at 8-Ball. "What in the galaxy could that mean?"

"Got me," 8-ball said. She got up from where she had been laying and also tried pushing open the door. Unsurprisingly, she was unsuccessful. "Oh, come on," she told the door. "Please! Pretty please! Open sesame!" When it still refused to open she kicked it, which succeeded in doing nothing but hurting her foot. "Ow," she muttered.

The glowing light in the FINAL EXIT sign went out. It stayed dark for a minute and came back on, spelling entirely different words. THAT'S NEVER GOING TO WORK, YOU KNOW.

"Well, why not? Come on, door, open."

ONLY THE HONEST MAY PASS.

"Well, I'm being honest," 8-ball said. "And Vrih's being honest. We're both two honest, honest people. Now open!"

There was a strange, almost creaking sound, and 8-ball could have swore that the door was trying to laugh. The sign switched to REMEMBER THE LAST CLUE.

8-ball instantly frowned. "Oh, come on. That's not fair. Why should I have to say that? I mean, I wasn't lying? He really CAN be an arrogant ass, you know." She ignored Himne's look. "Can't you just let us un-honest people through? Just this once."

The door didn't open.

8-ball sighed. This sucked. She turned to Himne. "All right," she said, grumbling. "The clue didn't really say 'Arrogant Asshole'." She had hoped that this would be enough, but the door still remained locked. She sighed again. "The last clue on the crossword puzzle was 'lost love'."

The door opened. 8-ball looked at Himne crossly. "There, happy? And just to let you know, I think the crossword puzzle was being a little ridiculous and overly romantic because I don't know if I love you or not. I just like you a lot and I miss you and I also refuse to think I'm wrong and I equally refuse to change for you. So this doesn't really change anything, the hero does not kiss the heroine at the end of the tale, and nothing is solved. I just want to get the flying FUCK out of this temple." And with that, she went through the door.

As they stepped out onto the planet's surface - and into the fresh clean air - Himne was at a loss for words.

"I... I..." he muttered, trying to find the right words. When nothing was forthcoming, he decided to act impulsively (and perhaps rather recklessly, given 8-Ball's somewhat aggressive temperament.)

Ignoring the constant pain in his leg, he grabbed her by both shoulders and kissed her, fiercely.

After a moment he took a step back, before speaking. "8-Ball, I admit - you're right, I am sometimes, as you humans like to say, an arrogant asshole. I don't know why I proposed that mutual break-up, but I've hated every minute of it. It's just... I didn't know how you felt, and now I do, and..."

He trailed off seeing the total shock on her face, and he wondered whether his actions would prompt another kiss or a fierce slap.

8-ball waited a few seconds, staring blankly at his face, and then fiercely slapped him. She glared at him for a minute, clenching her jaw, and then gave up glaring and sighed. "I have no idea why I just slapped you," she admitted. "Probably because I wanted to do this."

And then it was 8-ball's turn to take Himne by the shoulders and kiss him passionately. Passionately enough, at any rate, for Himne's bad leg to buckle, causing him to fall backwards with 8-ball falling on top of himl . 8-ball leaned up a bit from her position atop of Himne and grinned at him.

"Looks like Alice gets her own Prince Charming after all," 8-ball said and kissed Himne again before he could ask her what she meant.

~The Happy End~ awwwwwwwww. . .

((OOC: So endeth the adventures of the Counselor & the Fighter Jock/Science Chief/Ex-Actress. - L))

"The Breath of Fate"

by Lt. Jasmine Heloi
Chief Science Officer & Vanguard XO

& Cmdr. Karyn Dallas
Chief Counselor & Second Officer

---- Mirusan Ruins Somewhere... ----

Jasmine Heloi brushed her uniform pants in an attempt to remove some non-existent dust. After her experience tied to the 'rock o' doom' she wasn't too thrilled with the idea with being stuck down in the bowels of wherever they were for much longer. What stuck with her, however, was the memory of the voice that proclaimed the 'watery' room as some sort of 'test.' A test of what? And why? Those thoughts and more jostled in her head as she led the way towards the next doorway. Would it lead to freedom? Or another death-defying 'test?'

"I love what they've done with the place," Jasmine exclaimed, focusing upon humor rather than any form of despair. It just wasn't worth it, otherwise.

"Yeah, I love the damsel in distress theme too," Karyn replied dryly. After her experience on the bridge, Dallas was actually in relatively lighter spirits. Never before had she been so happy to have underestimated her own abilities.

Heloi smiled as she picked the 'plain' door. No swirling designs surrounded this particular one, and she hoped that she was correct in her choice. As they entered, torches lit themselves around the room to reveal an archway in the center of what was otherwise an empty chamber. Confused, the Betazoid stepped forward, keeping an eye on the walls and the floor for any form of trigger for some other form of trap. Visions of Karyn and herself trying to outrace a boulder danced through her head and she shook herself in an attempt to remove it. "Then again, the whole archway in nothingness doesn't do anything for me," she continued on the same train of thought she had earlier.

"Be careful, Jasmine," answered Karyn, the cold hard fear returning in the pit of her stomach.

"Hey," she grinned slightly, feeling every bit the daring fighter jock, "It's me." With those words, the Betazoid moved closer to the archway. For some reason, the center of the otherwise unremarkable object seemed to be shimmering. "Do you see that?" Jazz asked her companion, her brow furrowing as she eyed the center.

"Yeah," Karyn replied with more certainty. "I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

Suddenly, the doorway 'shifted.' There was no other term for it in any humanoid language as the center of the archway - which had been displaying the opposite wall - suddenly showed a completely different location. A tunnel filled with cobwebs stretched away from the doorway. At the very end of the tunnel what could only be sunlight filtered through. It seemed to be a way out. However, Jasmine was skeptical. There was no way it could be that easy.

"It looks like a way out. However, I have this feeling that its anything but," Jasmine commented thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Karyn replied darkly. "Speaking from experience, I *know* God doesn't love me that much."

Another disembodied voice, similar to the one before, echoed through the room, "The last test. The Breath of Faith. One path to freedom, the other to stay. Only through respect for your position will you survive."

Heloi sighed, "Why is it never easy?" she asked rhetorically, "You took the last one, I guess it's my turn. Hang out back here and I'll come back for you once I'm through."

"If you can," Karyn muttered. There was no guarantee that either of them would be in a position to save the other. Someone or something else was in control, and Dallas hated that more than evil itself.

Taking a deep breath, the Betazoid stepped through the archway. The cobwebs were everywhere and she coughed reflexively. When she turned, however, there was no comforting presence of the archway. There was no way out. "Ah, frak," she muttered before turning back to the cobweb infested hallway. The only way for her to go was forward.

Her thoughts whirled with thoughts about the test, about what was happening to them. She suspected that these tests were some form of trial of worthiness - perhaps to determine if they were worthy to meet the gods or something of the sort. Gods. She dwelt on that thought. The voice had said that only through respect for her position would she survive.

"Respect," she murmured as she eyed the cobwebs, "If these are gods, how would someone show their respect?"

The cobwebs began to move ahead of her, as if some sort of breeze were blowing through the hallway. "The Breath of Faith. Faith. Respect. KNEEL!" she fell to her knees just as a massive blade spun through the location where her head would have been. Her heart beated frantically within her chest as she scrambled forward on her hands and knees.

Once again, the cobwebs blew, only this time they were at a height for her current position on the floor. She got to her feet and waited for a moment before jumping upwards, grabbing an I-beam that was supporting the tunnel for support. The blades barely missed her feet and she shook her head. This was rather ridiculous.

Join Starfleet! Explore Strange New Worlds! Dodge whirring blades! The thoughts occurred to her as she tried to judge her next action. She could use the beam to swing herself further down the hallway, but that did not answer how she would be able to bring Karyn through this deadly trap – never mind the fact that she wasn't certain if she could get back to Karyn now.

With a soft sigh, she began to swing and the I-Beam creaked ominously as she used it as a launch pad. When she hit the floor, she rolled to absorb the impact and barely missed getting skewered by another well placed blade. She was really starting to hate this place.

Five harrowing minutes of dodging blades, swinging over at least one bottomless pit, and generally over exerting herself the Betazoid found herself at the end of the tunnel. If she squinted, she could see the faintest glimmer of sky through the concealing cloud cover. Freedom was just steps away, but the Betazoid resolutely turned her back upon it. She needed to get back to Karyn, but first she needed to find a way to stop the blades.

She carefully examined the sides of the tunnel, tracing her fingertips over the cool stone in an attempt to find anything unnatural about them. There had to be some method, some way of stopping them. Suddenly, she realized that she was no longer alone.

A glowing orb of something hovered before her bathing both her and the tunnel in a golden glow. The orb flashed brilliantly and suddenly Karyn was in the tunnel with her. Jasmine could do no more than wave slightly in a hello before the orb shifted form into the same shape as that of the statue that had originally sent them into the 'testing area.'

"You have passed the tests set before you," the being announced, its voice echoing through her very bones. "Well done. Because of this, you will both be given a gift. It shall be of your choosing, your greatest desire. Think upon it and it shall be done."

"Are you alright, Jasmine? I couldn't see you, I could only hear, and even then I thought you were hurt. I never thought I'd say this, but screw the Risian pleasure cruise. I'm going to the USS Galaxy!"

Jazz nodded, "I couldn't agree with you more. Let's blow this popstand!"

"Your will, be done," the glowing orb replied and the two women were bathed in a golden glow.

After a moment, the glow faded to reveal one of the USS Galaxy's transporter rooms – and one very startled transporter chief. Jasmine staggered for a moment, her body feeling the effects of the rather unorthodox treatment that it had received over the past few days. With a cocky grin, she announced to the room in general, "Well, that was fun."

"Group Therapy?"

Branwen London
Samantha Widdlestein

****

"These meetings are very tedious." Samantha said from behind her book. Roald Dahl's 'Charlie and the Chocolate factory' was the subject of her next holoprogram for Arel so she needed to get all the details and then change them to however suited her best. "When do I get to actually *do* something?"

"If I remember correctly, you are still being punished for disobeying my orders."  Branwen said without looking up.  "If I cannot trust you to behave, how can I let you do anything?"

"Try not to take this the wrong way, London, but your orders were lame." Samantha sniffed, put the book away, and then looked up the counselor with a smug smile. "And you can trust me because I'm trustworthy."

"Really, I don't think so. A marine should learn even to follow a lame order. If you thought it was lame you should have come to me and debated it with me. That is what a trustworthy person would have done. Instead of trying to make me look bad with my boss. You know what that makes you look like? Sneaky and untrustworthy and you have lost a lot of the respect I had for you, young lady."

"Oh, how will I face another day." Sam said dramatically.

"Not that way." Branwen said.

"Fine, what's today's lesson."

"I am willing to listen to suggestions, if they are feasible."  Branwen said testing the girl, to see if she would come up with something totally ridiculous.

"Let's see some actual combat." Sam said. "Or therapy. How am I supposed to take anything from this if I can't see its practical application?"

Branwen looked at the girl for a long time."I am willing to fight you later today.  As for therapy, you do realise it is a very personal thing.  And it is confidential, I cannot talk about any thing I hear when I give somebody therapy, unless it threatens them or others.  However if you're able to find somebody doesn't mind that you sit here, and you are not to pressure people. And if you promised to take its serious and not to talk about it except with me, and not interfere during the session.  I'll let you sit in one-time."

"Really?" Sam nearly squeeked. Finally, she'd get to do something! "I'll go find someone immediately!"

"Samantha, remember my stipulations, one break of them and you are out of the treatment room."

"No, pressure. Check." Samantha said, making a clicking sound as if marking her own clipboard. "And after what happened in the temple, there's sure to be a lot of people wanting therapy."

"Probably."  Branwen shook her head.  Yet it would be interesting to see how the girl dealt with this delicate situation.  And if she was gaining maturity or not. 

"Ooh!" Samantha suddenly yelled, as if answering that question. "I have to go download everything I can about schitzophrenia and agoraphobia!"

off: Any takers? Muhahahaha...

"Advice, Part One"

Ella Grey
Branwen London

***Present***

Ella brooded.

Her back was uncomfortable but she decided that brooding people, especially those that chose to do their brooding in Jeffries Tubes, generally weren't looking for comfort so she should just suck it up and ignore the pain.

About a moment passed before she rolled over onto her stomach.

She was being.... Ella didn’t know exactly what she was being. Silly? Stupid? Hoping that a rogue missile would suddenly detonate in her section of the ship?

Ha, Ella thought. She should be so lucky.

Anyway, she was trying to work through some things and self-therapy was hard enough without having to worry about someone walking in on you while you were in deep conversation with yourself in your quarters. Even though Indigo used more hair care products than the ship used fuel and 8-Ball took out her frustrations on a stuffed teddy bear, there were just some things that she didn't want to share with them despite their own quirks, like her inability, at present, to stop talking outloud.

"And besides," Ella reasoned, forgetting her resolution not to speak. "I'm an engineer. Things break down all the time and by being here I could head off a potential disaster in progress."

She wasn't hiding from Victor; she was dedicated to her career.

“Right.” Ella drawled in her mechanical voice. “And I’ve got a nice chunk of land on the moon to sell you. And shut up already."

Shaking her head, she rolled back over onto her back and thudded her head a few times in hope of a concussion.

Ella figured the concussion was easier.

***Past***

"So you think he's not shy." Branwen asked. "Do you think he's not interested, or is he just dense like most men?"

"I think... I don't know what he's thinking." Ella said with a shake of her head. Who knew what Victor Krieghoff thought, other than sleep, eat, and protecting the sheep.

They were discussing her love life, or lack thereof. It was better than discussing the non-use, or bypassed use, of her voice.

"If telepaths didn't go bonkers at the sight of him, I'd ask one of them what he thinks of me." Ella said.

"That would be cheating." Bran said. "And not fair. Maybe you could ask somebody else to try and find out. He might find it easier to talk to someone else about his feelings, if he has any."

Ella didn't want to mention that she'd had Curtis once try just that because she didn't want to linger too long on thoughts that had to deal with Curtis.

"Well, I suppose you could try if you're interested. But I highly doubt you'll last five minutes with him."

"Why not?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Because he's...an intimidating person, Bran, and you have this sort of nncocent thing going for you."

"So? I am a Starfleet Marine, I will intimidate him. Just give me in his name, and I will make you see." Branwen said.

Ella raised an eyebrow herself. "He's scared off Klingons, Bran. And worse."

She then shrugged when the counselor just gave her a look. "Victor Krieghoff."

"I don't know him. But that is about to change. He cannot be that bad if he is afraid of Klingons." She said misunderstanding her friend.

"No," Ella said shaking her head. "He *scares* Klingons. Well, sort of. But he scares everyone else."

"Not me. I don't scare easily." Branwen said full of confidence.

***Present***

Ella did scare easily but no self-respecting woman wanted to admit that. But Victor Krieghoff only scared her when he went total Prince of Darkness on her. Or when he was throwing himself in harm's way, which was often.

Or when she’d been thinking for a few hours in an uncomfortable metal tube and she’d come to the conclusion that she owed him an apology.

"Not that I wasn't justified somewhat in being angry." She said outloud. "I mean, telling someone you love them should get you a slightly bigger reaction than..." And here she stopped herself by making any more excuses by the effective method of thudding her head again on the floor.

Because, really, how did one apologize for saying, in effect, "I hate you, I hate you, and I wish you'd never been born."

There wasn't really.

***Past***

"If only we could be so brave." Ella told Bran with a straight face.

"Brave as what?" Bran asked.

"As you Bran." Ella said with a smile, finding that she actually meant it. Branwen seemed to exude this innocence that Ella had once thought was impossible in a person. Or maybe it was just in her. "But we were talking about Victor. If you do meet him, try not to scream or anything. I think it hurts his feelings, whether he says so or not."

"I don't scream." Bran said not even to other marines. "And I am not that brave, I wish I was. Going in to action and facing Baile scares the shit out of me." She admitted.

Ella snorted. "That hair of his would scare anyone."

"Yeah." Bran admitted pensively.

***Present****

Bran was working on some dreary paperwork when she heard a knock on the door. "Enter!" She called out.

The door opened and Ella stood there with a pale face. "I don't know how to apologize to him, Branwen."

And she promptly burst into tears.

(OOC: Hi everyone!! I'm glad to be onboard, and I'm looking forward to be a part of the team. There's been some amazing writing going on, I've enjoyed reading all your logs :) Hoping for opportunities to write with some of you once my character gets to the ship...!)

"Stirrings of Uncertainty"

By Ensign Ember Lansky,
Fighter Pilot / Security Officer, USS Galaxy

Location: Crew Quarters, Deep Space 5

Ensign Ember Lansky appeared deceptively studious as she sat with one leg curled beneath her on the standard-issue futon in her quarters, a PADD in hand. More perceptive observers however, would have instantly noticed the telltale signs of restlessness. She was fidgeting constantly - shifting her foot, tucking her hair, licking her lips, or adjusting her weight on the couch. Finally, snarling in distaste, she set the PADD down on the coffee table. From the obstinate way her shoulders were squared, it was obvious that abandoning a project halfway was not something the Ensign liked or made a habit of. It frustrated her, but there was not a thing she could do about it.

Ember couldn't remember ever spending so much time reading since her Academy days. All that last-minute cramming for tests, forcing herself to hold still for just a few hours. It was nearly a miracle she even graduated, in large part thanks to her stellar performance on practical tests and flight, combat or survival simulations. But, a mortal enemy had been made then of books, PADDs and the written word - things she had happily consigned to the incinerator upon her graduation.

This was worse than Cardassian torture methods, she thought, a derisive glance directed at the hateful thing on the table, containing some of USS Galaxy's mission logs. Why she even came up with the half-baked idea to read them was something beyond her comprehension. She didn't need to familiarize herself, she didn't need to know how the crew operated, she didn't need to look before she leaped. Most of the time, she simply leapt, caution be damned. But here she was, waiting at Deep Space 5 for a ship which was late in arriving, and burying herself under with PADDs of useless data.

This was the result of the nagging unease that had settled in the pits of her stomach since she departed USS Regent. It was not to say she didn't welcome the exit. The relationship with her commanding officer had been coolly distant at best after the debacle that was their last mission. He seemed to have taken her insubordination as a personal assault against his authority, still chafing because she hadn't returned to the ship as ordered after a band of mercenary raiders had beat a hasty retreat. From her perspective, it was too flawless, too well-timed. The whole thing smelled of a ruse, and she had gone after them.

"Bring that attitude with you, and you will fail, Ensign. You are without humility, respect or discipline, and you will not succeed with your reckless behavior," the man had stated unrelentingly.

'You will fail' -- the words left a bitter taste in her mouth that still lingered as she looked towards her re-assignment on USS Galaxy.

Would she?

It was a question she suddenly didn't want to ponder. Setting her feet on the floor, she stood, putting aside the cushion on her lap. She had done enough reading for the day.

It was time to try out that new martial arts program in the holosuite.

"Advice, Part Two"

Branwen London
Ella Grey

***Present***

"Oi, hold up, slow down. What is going on?"

Ella forced herself to be more composed. All in all, it didn't take long, mostly because she considered herself an expert (albeit rusty of late) at hiding her emotions. She let Branwen lead her over to the couch and gave a long sigh.

"On the planet," She said. "I said some really horrible things to Victor. I was so mad at him because... well, I told him how I felt and..."

"And...?"  Branwen was curious.

"He didn't say anything!" Ella exploded. She wiped under her eyes and then rolled them. "Or at least that's what I thought. What he said something about my voice being dead and I just lost it. I said the most horr...they were.... it was the stupidest thing I've ever done, Bran."

"That must have been a shock.  Did it make you reconsider your voice?"

"Not then."

Bran just waited.

Ella frowned. "I... I've been thinking about it."

"Do you want to talk about it?"  Branwen knew how reluctant Ella was when it came to her voice.

"No, not really." Ella said. "I just need to know how to applogoize to someone you love after screaming at them that you wished they'd never been born."

"You need my help for that? The only thing I can do is let you practice on me. You will have to do it in your own words.  And how much longer are you going to run away from talking about your voice?"  She asked gently.

"I'm not running." The engineer replied. "I'm sidestepping."

Branwen just raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard it all before, Branwen. You're hiding, you're letting the people who did this to you win, you can't control everything... yada yada ditto gag barf etc." Ella said, her hands waving about. She really missed signing, she thought. She hadn't done a lot of it lately with the implant.

"And all those people were just saying that to annoy you, not to help you. The whole universe gets a kick out of annoying you."  Damn, the woman was stubborn.

"No," Ella corrected angrily. "All those people weren't listening to me when I said that I was fine and that of all the things I've ever done, being mute and putting an implant in my throat were the least of their worries."

She then sighed again. Sometimes she wished a cartoon anvil would fall on her head when she spoke without thinking, she really did. "Anyway, my voice isn't going to help me apologize to Victor. Even if I had it, I still wouldn't know what to say.

Branwen had not missed what Ella had just said, yet if she focused on it now she knew Ella would get angry.  Now she needed to talk about the apology."Give it a try, practice on me."

Ella shot her a 'get real' look but Branwen's own look was equally unimpressed.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm very sorry, Victor."

"You plan to do it with that body language? I'm sure it will make a huge impression."

Body language? What kind of body language did she know how to convey except the sexual kind? Well, she supposed that she could sign with her hands while she apologized. No that would not work. "This sucks." She said, slumping in her chair.

"You have to say it as if you mean it.  Or it will have the opposite effect, Ella."  Branwen explained.

Ella scowled. "I *used* to be able to convey things with just my eyes. I guess that thing about windows being eyes to the soul is really crap."

"They convey something.  It's true.  But if your eyes say one thing, and your voice and the rest of your body language something else...  it is not enough."

"But what if," Ella asked and it was hard to ask because she didn't even want to think about such things. "What if I do all these things and it still isn't enough?"

OOC: to everyone involved in the post, thanks for writing with me. Since we needed to finish this up, I just cleaned it up and slapped on an ending to finish it off. - Sabrina

"Wrapping up the loose ends"

Set straight after "Come together. Or Else"

Lt. JG Cora Dobyrin
Ensign T'Ashaya (Vulcan Tsunami)
And Pvt. Alliya Yhwalyan (SPC: Dru)

Alliya always knew that there was only one person that she could trust, and that was herself. But right now she did kinda, ish, wished that she had back up. Her tricorder had blinked back into existence and was beeping every few seconds. Life signs here and life signs there, just as Alliya turned a corner the sign blinked off the radar and then after a few seconds cursing, Alliya cursing obviously, have you ever met a talking tricorder? After a few seconds the life sign would appear again and Alliya would spend another thirty minutes following it. Tracking it, observing its movements.

Back flat against the wall, breathing; slowly and steadily. Creeping out inches at a time, the life-form could be hostile after all. phaser rifle at the ready, finger on the trigger, scanning with the tricorder. Life-form detected. Life-form dead ahead. She sprung out from behind the rock footsteps echoing around the cavern, flash light scooping the area... and. nothing!

Again and again.

NOTHING!!!!!!!!

Alliya was tired, pissed off and cranky.

She had been chasing sensor ghosts for hours. she had originally been looking for Dobyrin. But than her tricorder had come alive! And she had scanned for life-forms, and when the tricorder came up with some, Alliya thought that they could be the missing people that they were actually here to look for. But no! Sensor ghosts after bloody sensor ghosts.

Alliya was not impressed.

Wiping the sweat from her upper lip Alliya sat her sorry ass down on a rock and took a breather. Rubbing her aching neck, rolling it around, she could hear as well as feel it cracking. She stretched her arms next and cracked her shoulder blades, staying in the same tense position for the last few hours had done her posture no good at all. She would have to spend weeks down the gym to relieve all the stress on her muscles. And, boy, right now she would love to punch something.

Pulling the rucksack off her back Alliya opened it and took out some field rations, she wasn't really sure how long they had been in this hole, cavern, stupid Hydran god worshiping place thingy! But she knew she was hungry and that was all that mattered to her. Although, she was strongly thinking of transferring departments; maybe there was something she could do to perk up the taste of field rations!!!

Stretching and shifting on the rock with half a freeze dried, long life, preserved, replicated, tasteless, cardboard something-or-other sticking out of her mouth Alliya scanned the chamber she found herself in. The torch on her rifle scope was the only light she had left seeing as her actual torch had failed her three hours ago. She wasn't too interested in studying what she considered to be Hydran graffiti, but whilst chewing the tasteless it seemed appropriate to take a look around at the tasteless!

The glyphs were confusing, the images were similar to that of the Hydran, with there three arm beak thingies. she really didn't like anything that had more eyes than she did. and the beaks really freaked her out. she had a pet bird as a child. the memory tormented her!

Slowly she stood up and walked to the cavern walls, her fingers pressed against the touch responsive light panel along her rifle; the light spilling out illuminating the glyphs across the walls. Absently she traced the images with her right hand, her fingertips grazing the mottled dirt brick walls. As she scanned the pictures her mind processing the data and trying to make sense of the indications made by the glyphs, she felt that same sense of dread that she had as they were entering the caves.

Alliya didn't notice at first, as her heart rate increase, or her palms begin to sweat, or the prickly sensation that crossed her skin making her itch. Didn't notice at first what those signs meant!

Cora was all alone or at least thought she was but kept hearing noises as if someone else had joined her. This place gave her the creeps and she wanted nothing more than to find that familiar voice she thought she'd hear earlier.

"Will you please be quite I'm trying to work out what the hell this is saying." Alliya chastised the empty room just like she had when she was with the group. she was griping at the emotions that had flooded her mind from her colleagues... but there was no one with her here. so why was she feeling these things... they certainly weren't her own feelings, she was a marine... she didn't get scared... just pissed off and angry.

"It says, 'Beware of Gods bearing gifts," a voice stuttered from the gloom, as if talking chattering teeth.

Spinning round to the empty void, Alliya scanned the caverns, first with her eyes and the torch, nicely attached to the phaser rifle, and then with her tricorder. it showed nothing. Typical!

Did she hear something? Or was that just her mind again. or someone else's mind? Focusing Alliya reached out and scanned with her mind, "Lieutenant Dobyrin?" Alliya shouted. She knew that mind. Scanning for it for half an hour made it all that more recognizable.

"I'm here..." Cora called hoping that her response could be heard.

"Lt Dobyrin, down here..!" Alliya called again as she grabbed up her things and followed the 'trail' as it were!

Cora started jogging in the direction of that voice. Then she quickly picked up the pace so she was moving double time towards her intended destination.

As Alliya ran down the darkened halls she almost collided with the lieutenant. Throwing her hands out to brace her fall she stumbled into the walls, bouncing off them and eventually ending up with her back against it, leaning heavily, half way down to the floor.

"Lieutenant..?" Alliya called out breathlessly through the darkness.

Somehow Cora had managed to plaster herself against the opposite wall, "Calm down, I'm over here Private." She managed to get that much out as a wave of pain rippled through her. It was a signal she'd managed to wrench or twist something in the process of avoiding a collision with Alliya.

"Are you alright?" Alliya asked as she straightened her self up.

"I could be worse," Cora responded, "And other than a little banged up and wondering what the heck happened I'm ready to get out of here."

"Shush!" Alliya broke in. "There is someone else here." she hadn't finished the scan she started. she thought that she had heard someone else but figured that it was Dobyrin. But now there was another mind on the edge of her conscious.

Slowly she walked forward through the darkness towards the mind she could sense. Flashing on the light on her rifle she did a sweep of the corridor. Just down the end she could see something; a change in color on the wall. As she stared harder continuing to walk cautiously down the corridor her mind clicked what it was. It was flesh. She increased her pace till she was standing over the woman.

"Are you alright?" Alliya asked kneeling down.

T'Ashaya lay on the floor, where she landed after she stumbled into the room, still dripping wet. The chill of the cavern-like temple, combined with her soaked through state, finally began to affect the Vulcan woman. Childhood on Sol III or no, she, like every other member of her race, handled cold poorly. Her fingers and lips were turning greenish against her pale skin.

Hypothermia, her numbed brain barely got out the thought. She collapsed to the ground with a groan and curling involuntarily into the fetal position. Her teeth chattered brutally.

"Of the descriptions I would apply," the Vulcan woman replied, each word stuttered to life. "Alright is not one of them."

"Dobyrin, have you got a flash light? Shine it down here I need to make sure she is okay."

Cora dug for a moment an came up with a small flashlight. "I'm not sure how long it will last but its better than nothing."

T'Ashaya couldn't be sure that she actually heard, actually saw another person. The light, if she really saw it, seemed bright compared to the gloom of the temple, and her nictitating eyelids slid shut as she recoiled as much as her numb limbs would allow.

"The Vulcan concept of Hell is a cold death," she stated, her human-like sense of humor activating as a defense mechanism. "And I thought they meant Colorado in winter."

Alliya checked the Vulcan woman's pulse, "Slow.." She concluded, "Flash the light on her face would you." Alliya commanded more that asked, she was more than pushy!

"She's suffering from hypothermia." Alliya quickly diagnosed. "We need to keep her warm. Lieutenant, your jacket please." Alliya said holding out her hand expectantly.

Quickly Alliya wrapped the jacket around the Vulcan woman. Standing up she picked up her rifle and used the torch to find some rocks. Gathering them close to where the Vulcan was she aimed her phaser at them.

"Quite frankly Lieutenant I don't care about Hydran archeology. My mission is quite clear. Find the missing members from Starfleet and get the hell out. This woman is part of Starfleet and I'm not going to make it a habit to lose someone on my first mission."

The nineteen year old was quite adamant, strong minded and slightly rude. Before Dobyrin could protest further Alliya fired her phaser and heated the bricks. A red glow lit up the cavern casting unusual shadows across the walls.

The Vulcan woman moaned and covered her ears as the phaser went off, curling even farther into herself. The loud, high pitched sound echoed off the walls. The two other women stood there as if deaf, but T'Ashaya could hear it, and understood now exactly what the dolphins mean when they talked about the "bad death sound." This had to be it. She knew her head pounded even more and that she, herself, wanted to die.

Alliya knelt down next to the Vulcan and d'oeuvre her closer to the 'fire.'

"No one is going to hell today, not on my watch." Alliya said. "What's you name?" she asked rubbing the Vulcan's arms to increase the blood flow.

"T'Ashaya," the Vulcan mumbled, flinching away from the touch instinctively to preserve her personal space, both mentally and physically. She was too tired to keep up her mental defenses, too tired to keep the other woman from touching her battered and bleeding arms..

Alliya nodded and pulled off her rucksack, opening it up she took out her med kit. She wasn't a doctor but she had been well trained in survival, and not just her own. Taking out a hypo she filled it with a stimulant. She didn't want to give it to the Vulcan too soon, she was going to at least try to get her as coherent as possible and warm her up naturally before pumping her full of drugs. The strain on her heart would be too much otherwise.

"My name is Alliya Yhwalyan." She told her, "And this is Dobyrin. We are going to get you out of here. So just hold on!"

"No drugs," T'Ashaya stated through chattering teeth as she caught sight of the hypospray. There was illogical to compound the problems she was having by administering who knew what cocktail of drugs to the situation.

"No drugs. Don't know what it did to me. Just get me up and out of here, please."

T'Ashaya wasn't certain exactly what happened next, even with her Vulcan sense of time and her Vulcan memory. Someone, Yhwalyan or Dobyrin? Slung the Vulcan Tsunami's Amazonian form into a fireman's carry and physically hauled the heavy, sopping wet woman from the cavern like temple. Someone called for a beam-out. Somehow she got to sickbay and before she really had time to process it, the Galaxy was back underway, back to the mission of transporting Admiral Livia Proctor to her new assignment, as if the events of the last assignment had been little more than an unimportant sidetrack.

T'Ashaya knew differently though. Her ears rung constantly now, a side effect from her contact with whatever culture they'd discovered. Whatever culture it was, T'Ashaya knew it wasn't Hydran.

Whatever culture it was, T'Ashaya knew that one day, they would find this culture again. She feared they might not survive another encounter.

"Test Series: Epilogue."

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
And G'Iv Z'Jgk'Thur, Hydran Command

Location: Temple Ruins Zone, Mirusa VI

Corgan asked, "So... I told you what I wanted... more or less. What did I win?"

James wasn't given much time to react, for the prize seamlessly materialized into his hands, even going so far as to knot his fingers around the object's handles, something James did not feel or even command his body to do, but nonetheless did. The alien 'gods' transporter technology, in their signature flawlessness, delivered the package.

The object itself was a staff or cudgel like item, close to being as tall as James, and heavy as stone. In fact, the staff WAS stone, the same sandstone predominant in most of the pyramid structure. Aside from the handgrips, which was a prefect size for James' hands (aside from the fact that there were three of them!), the staff itself consisted of segmented stone rings that started small at the ends of the shaft, then grew larger and heavier, then smaller as they made their way to the handgrips. There were four groups of these stone ring curves.

On some of the rings of stone were hieroglyphic symbols that James recognized as similar writing to the glyphs on the walls, but only half of the rings showed this strange alien writing. The other half showed a language that was stranger still, one James had never seen in his travels, one that looked oddly like a snakelike form of Kanji.

G'iv Z'Jgk'Thur looked over the strange stone staff, flicking at one of the 'Kanji' rings. It spinned with a small grating sound of stone on stone. To that, the Hydran said, "This looks like my language... but I can't be sure."

"I don't understand." James surveyed the staff, "What is the purpose of this staff."

The male disembodied voice answered, sure as the heavens, "YOU HUMANS WOULD CALL THIS OBJECT A... 'ROSETTA STONE'."

The female added, "YES, COMMANDER JAMES CORGAN. A ROSETTA STONE. THE FAMOUS EARTH RELIC USED LATIN TO TRANSLATE THE ANCIENT EGYPTIAN LANGUAGE. THOUGH EFFORTS ARE UNDERWAY BY BOTH YOUR PEOPLES TO TRANSLATE OUR LANGUAGE, IT IS YET COMPLETE. WITH THIS ARTIFACT, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO LEARN OUR STORIES."

"WHAT KNOWLEDGE YOU GLEAN FROM IT IS VAST. USE IT WELL!"

"BUT FIRST... YOU MUST TRANSLATE THE OTHER LANGUAGE..."

"THE ANCIENT HYDRAN LANGUAGE!"

"FOR THAT, YOUR PEOPLES WILL NEED CO-OPERATION!"

"YOU WILL NEED THE HYDRAN'S ANCIENT LANGUAGE, KNOWN ONLY BY A FEW HYDRAN SCHOLARS, AND THE FEDERATION'S ARTIFACT, TO LEARN THE SECRETS OF OUR CIVILIZATION!"

"SUCH AS OUR TRANSPORTER TECHNOLOGY!"

"AND MANY OTHER SECRETS!"

James looked down at his artefact with some scorn at his alien captors. The staff itself, a priceless alien relic itself that would most likely become a space waster at the Smithsonian Institute's alien artefact warehouse (a complex which went for miles u