"Suffer the Little Children" -- pt. 1

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil -- "Radu Prett"
Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist

~Let's face it, this place is just a cesspool of sentient life.~

As Brian walked the grimy byways he worried that the necessary scowl on his face would become permanently fixed.

~And as a counselor, I never thought I'd hear myself say something like that.~

It had been at least a half an hour since he'd parted company with the others and the things that he'd seen, heard, and telepathically sensed so far ranged from the reprehensible to the obscene. The occupants of this God-forsaken place seemed no more pleasant than the filthy streets or the oppressive air, and the disguised counselor found it challenging just to be among them, yet alone one of them. Nothing here resembled the comparatively pristine settings he knew on Betazed and Earth, a fact that reminded him of how sheltered and fortunate his life had been so far compared to those of so many others.

More than once he'd witnessed some form of battery or thievery out of the corner of his eye, but no matter how much he wanted to intervene, he knew nothing would blow his cover faster. So far he'd managed to successfully pull it off on the outside, but his internal dialogue was not as convincing. Using as much skill as he could muster, the strong telepath shielded his thoughts lest there be any telepathic spies or eavesdroppers around to discover them. He knew Jayce had been doing the same before they separated. She still had her concerns about the ship and didn't want to stray too far. Brian, on the other hand, wanted to know more about the people here, so he'd decided to venture off on his own.

When the first hints of twilight began to color the otherwise drab Vaden sky the counselor considered turning back -- until he saw the Inn.

In truth, what passed for an Inn on Vaden would have little more than a large shack on most Federation worlds, but if he was going to get to know the natives, this was probably one of the best places to do so. There was nothing like a bunch of bodies stuffed into a crowded space with easy access to liquor and who knew what other mind-altering substances to bring out "the best" in people. Quietly slipping through the doorway, Elessidil was sideswiped by a passing Naussican. A strange place to find a Naussican he thought, but then again, a place like this was bound to attract renegades and outlaws from every part of the quadrant and likely beyond.

The Naussican, of course, did little more than grunt in response to the slight collision, while Brian took the brunt of the hit. For a split second, he considered making an issue of it, sure that Radu Prett would not let such an offense go by so easily, but then thought better of it. The counselor could stay in character and would fight if he had to, but picking a fight this soon would only draw unwanted attention. That, and the Naussican would likely flatten him with little more than a wave of his arm. Maybe Prett wouldn't have caused a scene after all, knowing when to answer and offense and when to let one go. After all, in a place like this filled with these kinds of people, body checks were probably commonplace; if every one resulted in a fight there would likely be no one left standing within an hour.

"Sofka," he said stiffly to a gruff-looking bartender who did little more than glance Brian's way when he waded through to the bar. The drink was one he'd heard a staggering Barzan a few allies back muttering about to what looked like an old chair. What the drink was made of or how it tasted, Brian had no idea, but ordering a drink common to this area was probably better for maintaining his cover. Besides, he generally liked trying new things.

Taking his drink and throwing a small slip of latinum on the bar, Brian went in search of a table -- or anything that looked sturdy enough to at least lean against. As he passed through the sea of laughing, shouting and posturing patrons, he made a peculiar observation. Not once since he and the others had landed here had Brian seen anyone who looked to be the equivalent of maybe 20 or so Earth years old; yet here, he noticed several of the servers milling about the crowd -- indeed, all the servers, it appeared on second look -- were at most 14 or 15. They all seemed to be of the same race as well; a humanoid species with the same olive-colored skin, jet black hair, and dark, rather deep-set eyes. At no time did he notice any of them look any of the patrons in the eye; they simply delivered drinks and snacks and removed empty glasses.

Setting his glass down on a counter that ran the length of the far wall opposite the bar, Brian positioned himself at a good vantage point from which to follow the action -- such as it was -- around the room. He silently nursed his drink -- which turned out to be a little strong but not bad -- only glancing up occasionally, never making eye contact with anyone for more than a second. But he remained telepathically vigilant, using his innate Betazoid senses to learn more about the people who frequented this planet and to perhaps pick up on any information that might be helpful to the team's mission.

What he wasn't aware of was the pair of eyes across the room that had been following his every move.

"Making Preparations"

Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Team Flight Specialist -- "Danar"

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Team Infiltration Specialist -- "Raheem al-Hariri"

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

Saul tightened hood around his head, trying to prevent the flour-like crimson sand from penetrating his mouth and nostrils. They've been riding the animals for two hours now, and his back and butt competed which one will be more sore when the riding ends.

He glanced at his PADD. The red dots marked the robotic parts he sold to the Yridian merchants. In the morning, they were transported to a government facility just outside the spaceport, and now they were on the move again, presumably by shuttle. Saul was curious as for why they weren't transported, but there was something that drew his attention more than the method of transport.

It was the destination.

Olor 50 was a desolated and isolated region, in the boulder desert fourty kilometers away from the spaceport. Saul and Miramon planned to visit it that day after yesterday they found out that most of the outgoing messages from the chamber of commerence were sent to 'Olor 50'. Now, the two leads - the outgoing messages and the military-oriented robotic parts - seemed to converge.

Saul hid the PADD back in his robe, and patted the animal he was riding on. It reminded him of an ostrich, minus the eyes and plus a third defunct leg and an indigo corona of feathers circling its outstretched neck. The only Humanoids around these parts were miners and nomads, and they were using these beasts to travel instead of mechanized vessels.

The sun was low in the sky and descending toward the faraway mountains when Saul and Miramon crossed the ridge and had a first sight of the vale beyond. In the e-maps Saul purchased, the place had no special markings. However, in front of them a long facility stretched through the vale like a metallic snake, its 'scales' reflecting the late afternoon sunshine.

The whole trip seemed to have bothered Saul more than it had his Bajoran counterpart. As far as Miramon was concerned, it was rather fun to travel in such a manner, since he was used to sitting down at a computer console for hours at a time, whether piloting a large starship, or simply wheeling around space in a smaller shuttlecraft. Sure, he absolutely loved his job, but sometimes it was nice to be able to travel without having to worry about balancing the engine's forward thrust versus inertial stress and so on - all those variables that often made it hard to simply enjoy the trip.

Okay, admittedly, this part of Vaden wasn't exactly a sight-seeing spot, but the destination promised to be interesting. At least, as long as they didn't get shot at again - sure, Saul had the distinction of having not been shot at thus far, but there was plenty of time left in the day yet. He didn't know exactly what Saul had in mind, but then, the pilot had learned over time that it was best not to ask such questions. After all, he did have his mental health to consider.

As soon as the large facility came into sight, the Bajoran looked at it for a moment, then turned to Saul with a raised eyebrow. "Well, when they send parts to a facility like this, I suppose that would mean we've bumped into some sort of production center that the Hydrans would rather few people knew about? Or is this something a little more subtle that thus goes right over my head?"

Saul halted his mount, then turned it around toward an outcropping two hundred meters away. Cavern entrances could be seen even from that distance. "I don't know, Danar.", He said, "But as soon as the dark falls, I'm going to find out." Miramon shook his head, half-amused, half-irritated. "I just knew you were going to say something like that. And while you're busy risking your neck on this little sojourn of yours, what am I supposed to do? Look after the mounts?" "You're 'rear guard', Miramon. Once I'm inside, I will have no idea what's going on outside. You said you'll watch my back.", Saul smiled bitterly. "Now is the time." Although he really did want to protest that one, there really wasn't much the Bajoran could say to that. He had said exactly that before they left the Galaxy to come here in the first place, and likely his only reason for having come, given that his piloting skills weren't exactly needed for the mission, since all of the officers that had come on the mission knew how to pilot at a basic level anyway. "Besides, one person has a greater chance to penetrate than two, and I'm very experienced in such... operations. And we don't want the Chamber of Commerce all over again." "That was a mistake from the beginning, and only because you should have bugged the place while I served as a distraction. After all, you've done this many times before. If I ever had to engage in clandestine ops during the Occupation, we did so in plain sight, because the spoonheads were far too paranoid to spot the obvious stuff." "Next time I bug and you bargain.", Saul concluded. "Anyway, what's your contingency this time?" Miramon asked, a fair eyebrow raised slightly, his curiousity slightly piqued. After all, they didn't have the luxury of a Starfleet transporter anywhere within a few light years. "None. Unlike before, if they catch us it's obvious that we're hostile. So I'm just not going to get caught, period." Saul took a deep breath, and undid his robe. Beneath it, a black jumpsuit was revealed, with several devices embedded into the cloth. A Polaron pistol was attached to Saul's belt. "I think it's worth the risk.", Saul continued as he went through each embedded device, making sure that it was fully functional. "Unless the others come up with more surprising leads, this could be the difference between a successful mission and a failure. And I don't intend to go back home empty-handed if there are other alternatives."

Miramon nodded. "Alright, but please remember that I was the voice of reason here."

"You always are.", Saul smiled sourly.

They positioned themselves so that the ridge obscured them from any possible facility guards, and set up the camp. It looked innocent enough - many such camps were spread throughout the Olor 50 boulder desert. After unpacking, Saul and Miramon went through several possible scenarios, starting from best case and ending with Saul being caught alive or Miramon noticing heavy reinforcements heading toward the facility.

"I'm not leaving anything for chance this time.", Saul finished. Obviously, if they had done such preparation work before entering the Chamber of Commerce, the incident could've been prevented. "Remember. Radio silence. Anything we broadcast might be intercepted and indicate our existance. I've left an extra list of codes in my bag, so make sure you vaporize it if anyone approaches the camp."

Miramon chuckled. "I think it's more likely I'll vapourise them first, since if anyone's close enough to get to the bag, they'll be close enough to get me, as well. Although I'm not so sure I agree with radio silence. If we used an encrypted channel, it'd be far less likely to be detected - and I doubt the Hydrans are expecting Starfleet officers to be wandering around Vaden, much less here."

Although he hadn't said as much, he had come in order to make sure Saul didn't end up getting into trouble without someone to help out, and the very thought of keeping out of contact while Saul was in the facility wasn't one he particularly liked the idea of - especially since he'd have very few ways of knowing if anything happened beyond his line of sight. Still, though Saul would disagree, he could maybe settle for a compromise. The Tactical chief looked almost offended. "Silence is the safest form of communication.", He pointed out. SFI invested tons of resources in intercepting enemy transmissions, including enemy agents. There was no reason to believe that the Hydrans invested less.

"How about this, then," the Bajoran said in his 'bartering tone'. "We maintain comm silence unless either one of us happens onto trouble. Once that happens, we'll have to assume that our cover has been blown anyway, so the Hydrans will know we're here regardless. So if you do encounter trouble, call me as soon as you can. Deal?"

Saul nodded reluctantly. "Deal, but no contact in any other case. And no heroics if I'm caught - just retreat without being seen, and get back to Cadence as fast as you can." "Sure, I'll do that," Miramon muttered noncommitedly. To his mind, he had no problem agreeing to it outloud, but what he was thinking was something along the lines of a Bajoran equivalent to 'not a chance in Hell'. Still, if Saul was reassured by that, it was fine by him. The stars were high in the sky when they were finally done preparing. Saul was relived to see that the weather forecast was correct and the sky were overcast. (millenias of Meteorology and you still couldn't be 100% sure). He activated the lifesigns jammer, which made his signature appear like a small night mammal. There was no more time to waste - he needed to get out before dawn. "Be right back," He shot a sly grin toward Miramon as he tapped on his Bajoran counterpart's shoulder. Miramon shot a look at his friend, and gave a gentle nod to indicate that he understood. Still, he'd heard that before, and most of the time, it was from people who thought they were coming back, but had less chance of doing so than Satan had of ice-skating to work. That said, it never hurt to be optimistic, and although it was something of a surprise to see that coming from Saul, for once the Bajoran wasn't going to disagree, either openly or privately. Not that such a thing stopped him from keeping his phaser close to hand. Just in case.

"Suffer the Little Children" -- pt. 2

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil -- "Radu Prett"
Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist

As twilight faded to evening, Elessidil finished the last of his sofka and pondered getting another. Being out alone in a place such as this wasn't particularly advisable, even for a reasonably strong 6-foot man, so he decided that if he was going to stick around it wouldn't be for a whole lot longer.

A moment or two later, one of the servers -- he wondered if that was an appropriate term in this situation -- came by and snatched up his empty glass. She looked like the rest of them, but was perhaps a little younger, maybe the equivalent of twelve in Terran terms. Never making eye contact with Brian even for a moment, she simply came by, took the glass, set it on her tray and moved on. She didn't ask if he wanted another, whether he liked the first one, who he was, where he was from, or anything else that one might reasonably expect from someone in her position. But she was young, and what struck the counselor's empathic sense even more, she was very scared.

For the next few minutes, he couldn't help keeping his eye on her, watching as she silently slipped among the crowd, collecting more glasses until she had a full tray.

In retrospect, it seemed to Brian that the crash that followed as the well-loaded tray toppled from her small hands had been inevitable, but the foul-tempered man who received most of the glasses' remaining contents didn't seem to think so.

The man shot to his feet, and while he wasn't particularly tall, he stood significantly higher than the frightened server, who at this point wildly looked around trying to figure out what happened. "Filthy little grak!" he screeched.

Brian wasn't sure what a "grak" was, but judging from the tone with which the word was delivered, it was obviously not the least bit complimentary. As the scene unfolded, he found it odd that no one else seemed to react in any way, as if none of it were any more unusual than a stretch or a yawn.

Equally odd, but far more surprising, the girl said nothing in response . . . but Brian distinctly "heard" something from her. The girl was telepathic, and her reaction was the equivalent of what would have been a whimper, had she vocalized it.

A second later, the incensed man raised his arm and with one fluid motion back-handed the child hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

Without considering the ramifications of his action or if there were any possible alternative, Brian launched himself from his position against the counter. With no more than ten long strides he shoved himself through the still oblivious -- or apathetic -- crowd until he was directly at the scene. The man shot him a look that suggested this was none of Elessidil's affair, but the counselor didn't stop long enough for it to register. In a blind fury, he pulled back and punched the man squarely in the jaw, knocking him backwards with enough force to topple his table.

Now a few of the nearest patrons seemed to take notice.

Before the somewhat inebriated man could right himself, Brian turned and scooped the frightened girl into his arms and with the same long, determined strides with which he cut through the crowd the first time, made for the nearest exit.

The girl, her face wild-eyed and drenched with tears and some blood from a cut lip, still said nothing out loud, but her telepathic screams were shrill.

~No! No, please...stop! Stop!!~

The Betazoid couldn't help but hear her, but he wasn't about to stop until he got her well away from the bastard who'd hit her.

They exited into an alleyway behind the Inn, and only then did Brian stop. Quickly scanning the vicinity for anyone else who might do them harm, he set her down on some bricks that were neatly stacked next to the building once he was sure there was no one around.

~It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you,~ he sent, using what appeared to be the girl's preferred method of communication.

Tears streamed down her face, but still she said nothing. She didn't even try to get away from him, though he could tell that her every instinct was to bolt. But her telepathic responses continued loud and clear.

~No... no, you shouldn't have -- shouldn't have...~ she quietly protested.

Ignoring her concern, Brian reached to the end of the lining of the black leather trench coat he wore and tore a piece out.

~It's okay...it's okay...~ He did his best to calm her some while he gently dabbed at her cut lip with the slip of black cloth. Under normal circumstances, he would have told her who he was but that wasn't an option given the nature of this mission. ~What's your name?~

~Kaffa,~ she sent in reply.

There was so much more Brian wanted to ask her -- where she was from, how she and the other servers ended up here -- but their brief conversation was suddenly interrupted when the door into the Inn slammed open against the wall.

"You should mind your own business," the man Brian had punched growled. This time, he'd brought two friends -- and all three of them carried some very painful-looking weapons.

Brian reflexively jumped to his feet, positioning himself in front of Kaffa. But unfortunately, there was nowhere to run -- and he knew he didn't stand a chance against all three of them.

As the men closed in, one menacing step at a time, a shimmering curtain of blue light surprised them by beaming Brian and the girl out of the alley.

The counselor was equally surprised.

"The Perilous Nature of Engineering Tours, part IV"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer
Lt (JG) 8-ball Hunter

Nara turned back to the door, which had not yet opened. She bent back down to the tool belt, looking for some pliers or something, "Maybe we can just rewire it or something." She looked at 8-Ball, "If you want me to stop trying, just say the word. I personally prefer to try to get out of here before the guys with big guns come back and want to kill us."

8-ball wasn't sure if that was intended to be snippy or not and decided that she didn't care. "I prefer to not get killed at all," she said, "but no, keep trying, and lemme know if I can do anything useful. I don't really want to stay in here for the rest of my life. Party's kinda dead, you know."

Nara found the pliers and started moving the wires around, trying to find a data chip or something. She found it and removed it. An alarm still didn't sound.

After she had sat against the wall, her legs crossed with the chip sitting on her knee, she took her tricorder and started scanning the chip, "My guess is, they aren't too interested in coming after us while we're in here. Someone obviously shot him, or he tripped a booby trap. Either way, why he's still in here is likely why they don't seem too anxious to come after us in here." Nara was just spouting off. She wasn't even too sure what she was talking about as she was soon in a daze looking at the data on the chip.

8-ball didn't really follow any of that logic but decided not to comment. Instead, she asked, "Anything useful on that chip?"

Nara sighed, shaking her head, "I think I could reprogram it, but..." Her voice trailed off again as something appeared on the screen of the tricorder. A smile spread across her face as she flipped the tricorder closed and stood to reattach the chip. But the smile disappeared, "Would it be too much to hope he has a soldering iron on his person?"

"Probably," 8-ball said, though she didn't have the slightest idea what a soldering iron was. "It's worth looking, though." Scooting over to the dead body, she started rifling through his pockets and clothes. . .again. She was getting kind of tired of running her hands over a corpse. "I think all his tools were in that belt," 8-ball said as she felt inside his jacket pocket. Surprisingly, her hand closed over something and she pulled it out to look at it. It was a PADD.

8-ball sat back and started to scan the information. "Hey, Nara," she said slowly as she read. "This is really weird. I can't read all of it. . .some stuff's encrypted. . .but there's a manifest list of a Federation vessel. It's not the Galaxy, but. . .huh. They've got medical records on some of the key officers, the Captain, First Officer, Chief of Security. . .there's a lot about DNA on here. Genetic codes, proteins. . ." She trailed off again for a minute and then looked up at Nara.

"I don't know what's going on, but this is some strange stuff. I don't see any other tools on the body, though. Can you make do without your iron thingie?"

Nara frowned. She couldn't. She just wasted whatever time and she couldn't even reconnect the wires. She sighed and thought about what 8-Ball was saying. "As an engineer, I declare this lock a lost cause." She looked at 8-Ball, "If they've got information on Starfleet, this is definitely something we have to get back to our superiors. I suggest we just go the way we came in and kick butt to get out of here. We may not have weapons, but some of these tools could cause some real damage."

She picked up the tool kit and put it around her waist. "I'm just going full throttle here until you tell me otherwise, Lt. You're the superior. I suggest we hide that PADD on one of us somewhere." She looked at 8-Ball and smiled like she was getting to relive some wonderful pastime, "You know hand-to-hand combat, right?"

"Does getting in a lot of bar fights count?" 8-ball asked, and then stood up. She stowed away the PADD inside her uniform (which took a couple of minutes of creative thought and awkward movements) and then walked over to Nara. "Your plan sounds fine. . .provided you can get us out of here. You can kick ass, do kung fu, be Queen Warrior Woman, and I will strategically attack only those I am 150% sure I can handle and run like hell for the rest of it."

8-ball picked up a large hammer (one, because it was large, and two, because she actually knew what it was) and asked, "So, how are we getting out of here? I suppose we actually haven't tried kicking down the door."

Nara smiled. She'll always be Saul's Princess, but today, she was Queen Warrior Woman. "Let's kick the **** out of that door."

****

Once they got the door down (which took a good twenty minutes of kicking, ramming, swearing, and more kicking) , they were able to get several feet without interruption, but then they heard footsteps. Nara grabbed the screwdriver and decided to say a cheesy line, "I'm gonna screw them." She shrugged as she looked at 8-Ball who seemed unamused. "They've got better weapons than us. But we can surprise them. Let's let them think they have us. Then we do some sneak tactics and steal their weapons."

8-ball almost commented on this very new, technical term 'sneak tactics' and decided it wasn't worth it. "Let's get it over with," she sighed quietly, and then loudly stomped on the ground a few times so the guards would look at her. "Wait, wait, don't shoot," 8-ball said in her best, piteous, don't-shoot-me-I'm-just-a-girl voice with her hands up in the air. "We'll come quietly." It almost embarrassed 8-ball that the Jem'Hadar guys actually went for this. How incompetent could you get?

Nara followed suit, holding her hands up feigning helplessness best she could.

~My enemy's stupidity is my friend~ 8-ball thought as she and Nara stopped in front of the bad guys. They had that stupid, leering, half-brain dead gaze that was indicative of the Big Bad Mojo's lackeys. 8-ball raised an eyebrow unconsciously. If this simple trick was working, what other ridiculously easy ploys would help them escape?

8-ball suddenly pointed down the corridor. "What the hell is THAT?!" 8-ball asked, and the two lackeys actually went for it. Both looked where she was pointing; one of them even took two steps forward, positioning his undefending back directly in front of 8-ball.

8-ball didn't even bother glancing at Nara; she'd know what to do. 8-ball very quickly leaned down, pulled out the hammer that she had hid in an ankle band under her uniform (normally this ankle band held nothing more dangerous than a flask of Romulan ale), and unceremoniously hit the bad guy in the back of the head.

In the meantime, Nara let the screwdriver slip down the sleeve she'd hid it in and gripped it as she came after the other one. He seemed more adept then his downed friend and hoisted his weapon at her, but Nara gave a kick, knocking the gun up. It shot through the air and Nara moved her hand to stab him in the shoulder.

He seemed shocked at this. As if he'd never been in a fight. Nara took the moment of surprise and grabbed his gun and looked over at 8-Ball. Once it seemed the coast so far was clear, they moved on again.

8-ball looked at Nara. "Why did I even bother getting scared?" she asked. "This is almost a letdown."

"They seem like they never been in a fight before." As she said that, some more Jem'Hadar rounded a corner and the two girls shot, clearing the way again in what could barely be considered a challenge.

They met a few more Jem'Hadar as they made their way out. All just as easily conquered. Nara aimed for legs and arms. Just enough to stop them, not kill them.

"I almost feel like we could just stroll through the front door," 8-ball said dryly as they passed their "opponents"

****

They didn't exactly stroll, but 8-ball and Nara did escape the building pretty easily. Once they finally made it back outside and looking around, things seemed normal. Well, normal for this place. Everyone was wandering about, smiling and happy. Except for Nara and 8-Ball.

They made their way further down the road, trying to act inconspicuous. Nara looked at 8-Ball. "Maybe we should try our comms now."

"Okay," 8-ball said. "Hunter to Galaxy. Anyone picking up this time?"

She tapped hers, "Lt. Roswell to Galaxy requesting beam-up."

The answer came immediately, "Prepare to beam up."

In an instant, they were beamed to the safety of the USS Galaxy.

Camping Trip Part Three; “Dinner with the enemy”

Principle characters

Engineering - Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe

Civilian – Engineering trainee – Quentite Ambassador Turan Trelar

Civilian – Engineering Specialist Michael McDowell

Thi’Inni – Jem’Hardar guide and host

Rhi'Thar – Thi’Inni’s daughter

**Location; Jem’Hardar settlement**

The ‘tractor’ had been a little more difficult to fix than Thi'Inni had expected. In fact took all three of the engineers to piece together enough knowledge to get the half-track moving again. It was an amalgamation of Cardassian and Jem’Hardar technology and god only knew what else. Half of it looked like it was made out of old bed springs and the other quite possibly twigs! Though that might have been taking exaggeration a little bit too far, but not much, Dhani mused.

The heat of the afternoon sun began to dwindle, replaced with a cool, refreshing breeze. It was still a little overwhelming that the Jem’Hardar, of all people, were living on a planet that could have easily been described as a haven. The sky was clear crystal blue, with little cotton candy clouds floating across the horizon to a rhythm all of their own. Around them the grass flourished, emanating beautiful emerald green, beyond the hedge-line, fields upon fields of golden corn rose and fell with the tide of the wind, and in the distant snow topped mountains graced the landscape. It truly was breathtaking.

In the midst of this glorious scene Thi’Inni drove the tractor down the dirt track road to the farm house, in its trailer sat Dhani, Michael and Turan. An odd sight to be sure.

“What d’ya think?” Dhani asked nudging Michael. She was chewing on something that looked a lot like barley and grinning wildly, “Recon that I’d make a good farmer?”

Michael cast Dhani a frown, expressing his surprise about her question. "You? A Farmer? No way. Except for the technical side of the job maybe. I just can't picture you as someone growing corn and stuff. Besides, ...don't you have trouble keeping your own flowers alive?"

Dhani pouted, “Hey! I’ll have you know that when me and Turan were stuck on that stupid planet, I became a dammed good farmer, how else do you think I survived for thirty years?” she stopped abruptly and looked at Michaels bewildered face… she had forgotten that she hadn’t told him anything about that little time loop, paradox weird thing. Not even Turan remembered, she pursed her lips together and then smiled slightly. Ah well, moving on quickly, “Looks like we are here.” She said turning around and scoping out the house that was getting closer and closer.

“Looks nice, homely.” she commented. Before the tractor came to a stop Dhani jumped off and whipped out her tricorder and began to scan the area.

"Good fresh air." Michael said after taking a deep breath. He looked at the farm that was close by and the fields that lay some 100 meters away. Way back, what must be kilometres away, were the mountains their tops covered with snow. "Nice place for a good hike too."

Dhani nodded in agreement as she looked around at the farm. It was an interesting structure, functional yet still architecturally beautiful. It began to make her wonder what the Jem’Hardar were like before the Dominion got their hands on them.

Turan climbed down the half track. His middle-grey uniform jacket was covered by a layer of amber coloured dust. Turan wiped away the dust and watched the small clouds which fell to the ground. For a moment, the Quentite giant was hypnotized. Engineers spent a lot of effort in avoiding dust as much as possible. In the Quentin Space Centre engineers wore bright white overalls and their head where covered by hat-like nets.

Here in this particular environment, dust felt like a piece of heaven to him. Indeed dust was an integral part of nature, and this was the first time within months he had come in contact with nature. There were things he didn’t miss before – the wind which howled around the house, the fields of grain and corn which were gently swaying in the wind, the sweet smell of fruits and blossoms; all those simple things were not to be found on the Galaxy. Turan suddenly felt familiar with the patch of land he was standing on. Everything reminded him very much of home. He almost waited for his brothers and sisters to open the door, greet him, hug him.

“Turan?” a voice broke the trance, “Take your luggage and come.”

**** An hour later****

Thi'Inni placed the last spork - an odd looking bastard of a spoon and a fork on the table, "Rhi'Thar!" she called her son "Go, get you brother. Our guests are waiting!"

Rhi'Thar, a small fur ball of a Jem'Hadar child lurked around the corner, "Trem'Ore isn't back yet" answered the Jem'Hadar girl. "Ma'u'Ral came here to learn. I helped them with their algebra homework. Then they left. Don't know where they went."

Thi'Inni shook her head, "I think I will have to have a serious talk with that young man." she grumbled.

As Dhani listened to the usual family dinner time banter she was reminded of meal times in her own house. It was still so strange to hear this conversation from her former adversaries. She chuckled to herself at the irony.

"Take a seat, please" the Jem'Hadar woman addressed her Starfleet guests pointing at a low kitchen table.

Rhi'Thar climbed on one of the low stools at the rear end.

Michael and the others each picked a chair and waited patiently. It would seem they were about to eat a meal that did not came out of some replicator. Michael didn't know about Dhani or Turan, but for him this would be the first time he would actually eat real food and not a synthesized substitute.

Thi'Inni took a raw steel coloured cooking pot and placed it on a rack in the centre of the kitchen table.

"I hope you will like it." she explained, "When Goran'Agar told me I was chosen to host you I searched every source for a recipe you all would like. I hope I didn't fail with it." She removed the lid and a strong smell of beans, carrots, corn and onions arose from the pot. The Jem'Hadar female seemed to be a little bit nervous.

After a few not too obvious sniffs, Michael's nose decided that at least it didn't smell bad. That was promising. He decided to give Thi'Inni a compliment in advance. “Fail? Nah, it smells far too good for that. I'm willing to bet that nothing will be left before we've left the table."

Dhani took a place at the table. She still felt odd eating with the people that murdered so many of her friends, but somehow she understood the Jem’Hardar point of view. In essence they hadn’t done anything wrong; they were little more than machines sent out to do the Dominions bidding. And they didn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. They had been played, they had been used as pawns and sent out as cannon fodder with no regrets or remorse from their Gods. It was a harsh world that they came from, and this reform, however bizarre and incomprehensible was a testament to strength of character, spirit and free will; all the things the federation stood for.

“I’m sure the food will be fine.” Dhani said smiling, “I don’t think any of us have eaten real food in an extremely long time. So this is a real treat for us.”

"May I ask what's in it? The ingredients I mean?" Michael asked Thi'Inni. He was looking for a subject to talk about with Thi'Inni. Not that he was that interested in food, but more to prevent it from getting completely silent while they had dinner. "Just out of...curiosity of course." He forced a smile.

Dhani looked up at Michael, "It's kinda like a stew, well I think so any way." she whispered.

"Oh, yes...I get it." Michael said and smiled sheepishly.

For some incredible nerve-tearing minutes there was something missing. - The sound of cutlery clinging against the walls of plates or bowls. Indeed, the bowls sitting in front of every guest were still empty.

Turan looked around. This was his first 'first contact invitation for dinner'. Any other first contact he was lucky enough to survive was more or less hostile.

All eyes seemed to be on the new comers. It was almost a test to their trust as they sat looking at the concoction in the bowl before them.

"I don't know how to behave. Is there any rule?" Turan asked his mentor whispering.

Dhani shrugged, "I have no idea." she whispered back. She remembered that back on Earth the Chang family would prey to their ancestors before eating their food, and the Betazoids would bang a chime during meals. She looked around that the faces that haunted almost every officers dreams and wonder what they were supposed to do. Maybe they should just ask or was that classed as rude?

"Come on!" Thi'Inni addressed her daughter, "Get your bowl filled before the stew gets cold."

Rhi'Thar nodded, took the ladle lying next to the pot and without taking her eyes from the three strangers filled her bowl with steaming hot soup.

Dhani took the plunge first, it seemed that both Michael and Turan were waiting for her to try the food, see if she dropped dead or something. Picking up her bowl she took the ladle and filled it up. She tried not to let her nerves show, as she picked up the fork/spoon and began to eat.

Turan looked at his mentor, then at the Jem'Hadar child already eating. Patiently he waited for Lt. Eshe to pass him the ladle.

Looking sideways, Michael waited to see what Dhani thought of the food. It appeared it was alright...so he turned towards the bowl of food and got some of the stew for his own.

Dhani passed Turan the ladle and smiled. "It's very good." she said addressing Thi'nni.

Thi'Inni smiled and as far as one could tell looked a little bit proud. She filled her bowl and started eating.

As last of the engineering pack, Turan grabbed the ladle and filled his bowl. With Rhi'Thar, the Jem'Hadar child already eating there wasn't any risk to snub the host by starting without praying or something that kind.

Turan took the first spork full of his stew. Eating with a spork was a little bit difficult first. The the liquid dripped away through the fork side.

Every spork full Turan ate, awoke more and more memories of home. He remembered the stew, his mother often cooked (which wasn't as spicy as this one but a little bit more sweet.) This was tasty too - in a different way. And it was making him home sick. There were feelings, Turan never encountered before. The giant boy began to feel light-headed. Balance was slowly fading away.

"So," Dhani said before taking another mouthful, the food really was delicious, but she really should take some time out to get acquainted with Thi'Inni, "How long have you been here?"

Thi’Inni explained the story that almost every Starfleet officer had now heard; How the Jem’Hardar came to find this planet, how they broke away from the Vorta, and how they reintroduced women into the species, and how the growth rate of their young had begun to slow down.

The three engineers listened intently as they ate, asking questions sharing stories and anecdotes, and just like Michael had predicted, the pot of stew was emptied before the night was over.

"Pissed off"

Lt Claire Barnes, Security/Hazard Team

Claire was definitly not very amused about being 'escorted' to Sickbay, and she wanted to smashing someone's face. Most namely, either the captan or whoever sent goons. If it was James, she would probably be ending up with another insubbordination charge.

Entering the medical bay, doctors and nurses came over, then quickly backed away as she stalked over to a bed, glaring quite nastily.

A poor ensign was lumped with dealing with her. "Hello, Lt."

"Just fucking get this over with."

He gulped and ran a tricorder over her, "Do you know what happened to you?"

Claire growled, "Hell, no."

The man cringed a little before saying, "You have a bit of a concussion. So you will have to stay here for awhile."

All of Sickbay turned at the loud indignant roar, but Claire did end up staying when the guards headed over.

"Sorting it All Out"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison

*****

Paulo was sitting in his quarters looking over the reports from that mission to the Jem'Hadar planet. Things had hit the fan pretty quickly back there, but that was now behind them. (Will add more when the mission wraps up) Paulo was still on edge to as what had happened to the three of them back there. He wish he could remember. He had heard what happened to some of the other officers on the ship, including his sister, Anna, the traitor. Now he wondered if they where in fact related, or if it was just one giant scam.

For the moment Cora was tired of duty, tired of trying to piece together what had happened. She signaled her presence once she reached Paulo's quarters. The lack of memories on the team had been through bothered her which was only compounded by a recent nightmare. Currently Cora didn't know if the two were related or not.

Paulo looked up from his padd. "Come," he said. He wasn't expecting anyone, so it had caught him off guard.

Cora had triggered the door chime and was preparing to enter when the door opened. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

Paulo smiled as he stood up seeing her in the doorway. "Come in," he told her.

"How are you doing?" Cora asked concerned after their recent away mission.

"I am doing as well as expected," he told her as he motioned for her to join him on the couch. "I still can't remember what happened, or at least I don't think I can remember. I've been having really vivid dreams about the whole thing." He then paused thinking of his sister. "How are you doing?"

"Frustrated and I've been having dreams as well. Problem is I can't solidly place what happened. That bothers me."

Paulo nodded and moved into a reclining position and offered her the cradle of his arm for her to lie in. "Hopefully it will come to us," he told her.

It was a relief to have someone she could talk to. Cora took Paulo's cue and made herself comfortable next to him. "Yeah hopefully it will. Its good someone else understands." He was a welcome addition to her life.

Paulo smiled and wrapped his arm around her. "I just can't tell what bothers me more, that or my sister," he said as he closed his eyes.

"Your sister? What happened there?" Cora asked sounding concerned.

Paulo kept his eyes closed. "Shes been labeled a traitor."

“Trouble Brewing…”

Commander Karyn Dallas
Chief Counselor, USS-Galaxy

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS-Galaxy

Ensign Eytan
Security Officer, USS-Galaxy

Ensign Keldan
Operations Officer, USS-Galaxy

Plus Kor'a'Thus,
Colony Security Na'Toha, Colony Physician & Medical Administrator

Ka'Zhaar, Colony Engineering Technician

Jem'Hadar Colony Medical Facility

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

Opening her medical kit and stepping up to the singed Ensign, Kimberly looked at his hand, "May I?" she asked, opening her tricorder, "and could you explain what you've found... in English please?" she asked as she scanned his hand.

Looking at the devices briefly Na'Toha turned to the young Ensign, "Our Shrouds are an ability, not technological, but you are saying this shares a similarity with our Shroud?" she asked.

Keldan held his hand up for Lt. Burton to examine while he spoke to Na'Toha. "No, I don't think it is related to your Shroud ability. But the components of the cloaking mechanism *are* Jem'Hadar in nature." Looking back at the doctor he replied, "Basically, someone put in a device which is diverting energy from their power grid, and whoever did it went to a lot of trouble to cover it up and keep it hidden. We found a device similar to it during the war while I was serving on the /Ulysses Grant/. We weren't sure what it was because it had been damaged. But it too was causing power fluctuations, probably the only reason I detected it, and also how I knew how to remove it without interrupting the power flow."

Eytan listened to Keldan carefully, trying to think of why someone would do this, and who would be the most likely culprit. He glanced over at Kor'a'Thus. "Has the colony been experiencing any power fluctuations like this elsewhere?" he inquired.

"Some," Na'Toha replied, "only minor though, we have had some issues as you can imagine from our proximity to the nebula," she admitted.

Dallas felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. She looked at Keldan. "Is there a way to ascertain where the power is being diverted?"

"A good question," Na'Toha agreed, touching a part of her jacket sleeve she spoke up slightly, "Ka'Zhaar, report to the medical facility, ," she ordered brusquely, "one of our senior engineers," she explained as she turned to Burton, "would you object if I asked for your Ensigns to assist Ka'Zhaar? We are a little short handed," she admitted.

Finishing her first aid on Keldan's hand Kimberly looked to the two Ensigns, "Not at all," she agreed, "Ensign, pop by sickbay when you get back and get someone to check your hand, but otherwise have a chat with Ka'Zhaar when he arrives, see if you two can help," she instructed him.

"Yes Ma'am," Keldan replied, turning back to the device with Eytan, continuing their inspection.

Leaving the two to their analysis Kimberly looked to Na'Toha, "I guess we should leave them to it," she suggested, "perhaps we can sit and talk while they work?"

"Of course, this way," indicating a nearby corridor Na'Toha lead Burton and Dallas a short way into the facility and into a small but functional office, unlike most Jem'Hadar work places though, this one actually had chairs, blocky, uncomfortable looking and ugly, but chairs nonetheless. Indicating the chairs Na'Toha gave another of her pleasant smiles, "Please, sit, can I offer you refreshments?"

Karyn shook her head and politely replied, "No, but thank you." Dallas decided it was best to play her hunch. She sensed Kimberly had had the same. "I'm hoping we can be of help to you. It seems peculiar that energy is being diverted from your systems."

"Agreed," Na'Toha, "it is odd, perhaps Ka'Zhaar knows more, it might even be something he has put in place, though I doubt it, he would have reported it... even though it is made of our technology I am hesitant to 'place the finger' as you say at one of my people, there is sufficient 'leftovers' from the war for anyone to be familiar with our technology... perhaps we should leave our speculations until we know more... I'm sure you have many other questions?"

~ That you can be sure of, ~ Kimberly silently agreed feeling a little out of her depth here, while she might be a senior officer and cleared for first contacts, the class was never the same as the real thing. Sitting down she looked around at the small and spartan office... you could learn a lot about someone from looking at their desk.

“So how many people are in the settlement here then?” Kimberly asked, ~ start with the small questions, ~ she figured.

“Around four and a half thousand,” Na’Toha replied, sure that the officers were aware of that from their orbital scans, “with perhaps another five hundred or so in surrounding farms.” Suddenly, from outside the office, somewhere in the facility came the unmistakable sound of weapons fire, looking up sharply Na’Toha frowned.

“What’s…?” Kimberly asked, looking confused.

“Remain here,” Na’Toha said simply as she got up, “I will investigate.”

Looking to Dallas who had remained silent up until now Kimberly raised a eyebrow, “Weapons fire in a hospital isn’t usually a good sign,” she said with some concern, considering the lack of security at the moment and their own lack of weapons, “shall we leave!” she suggested, tapping her commbadge.

“And get the transporter chief to beam the other two out as well,” Dallas reminded Kimberly as she called in the beam out.

- - - - - Meanwhile - - - - -

Keldan moved his tricorder slowly and methodically along the walls, attempting to map out the conduits and trying to detect anything else out of the ordinary. Kor'A'Thus stood behind him, and Keldan didn't need to turn around to tell that he was not in a happy mood. Of course, he wasn't sure if the reason Kor'A'Thus wasn't in a happy mood was that something had been slipped under his watchful security eye, that something had been slipped under his watchful security eye and that the Federation had been the one to find it, or if the team had stumbled upon something that Kor'a'Thus had just as soon they not stumbled upon. One thing was certain, though, and that was that someone had put the cloaking mechanism in there on purpose, and someone had had to make sure the Jem'Hadar engineering and maintenance crews didn't find it.

"What are you doing now, Ensign?" The tone was more demanding and insistent than it had been before. There was also no small measure of impatience in it.

"This power is being redirected, but I cannot tell to precisely where. The energy signature seems to focus at a point there," he indicated a point on the far wall near the floor. "There is a lot of power being channeled into it. If I may ask, sir, do you know what is on the other side of this wall?"

"Many areas in this facility are devoted to medical research as well as patient care. I believe that area is devoted to... research laboratories."

It was obvious the man was being evasive, but Keldan needed more information. Since they'd had no problem with him looking into their power system thus far, he walked over and opened the access panel on the far wall to see what he could see.

As Keldan knelt on the floor there was the unmistakable discharge of a Jem'Hadar weapon that passed just above his right ear. The conduit before him exploded into a burst of sparks and flame, blinding him. He rolled on the floor to his left, hoping the desk there would provide some cover.

"Ka'Zhaar, what are you doing?" The rumbling voice belonged to Kor'a'Thus.

"Sending a message to these offworlders, and to you as well." More weapon discharges. And the cries of the medical staff rushing about in panic. Keldan held his breath a moment, hoping that Eytan was still there, somewhere. All he could see was a blindingly bright haze in front of his eyes and he was totally useless. But the Brenari proved not to be disappointing.

Eytan hadn't noticed the newcomers until it was too late to stop the leader from opening fire on Keldan. One of the other Jem'Hadar turned his weapon towards him and opened fire, and Eytan quickly dove to the ground, raising his phaser and firing several bursts, all too late to hit the Jem'Hadar, who had ducked behind cover.

~Well, *this* is a happy development,~ the Brenari thought sarcastically as he quickly crawled behind some cover as his own, barely avoiding weapons fire from the other hostile Jem'Hadar. He'd lost Kor'a'Thus in the confusion, and could only hope that his fellow security officer was all right. Eytan popped out from behind his cover and opened fire, dropping a couple of the Jem'Hadar, before ducking back down and making his way over toward Keldan, hoping that the Talarian hadn't been injured too badly.

Fire from a Federation phaser cut through the air... several discharges, actually, all set on stun. Keldan thought musingly to himself how he'd have used the highest kill setting on someone who was coming after him, but then, that was Federation policy for you. He couldn't tell immediately if any of the shots connected, but then he heard some slight groaning and another fire of Jem'Hadar weapons. There was growing heat coming from his right, and he guessed that a fire had started to spread. He would have to start a rigorous regimen of blind-fight training when he got back to the ship. He'd not be caught defenceless again.

But suddenly there was a voluminous roar, a crack that sounded conspicuously like bone breaking, and a series of loud thumps. Moments passed with only the crackle of the nearby fire and the low groaning of men stunned by phaser fire.

"Eytan, are you there?"

There was movement near him, and the sudden release of fire suppressant. He startled even more when someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I'm right here," Eytan responded, setting the fire suppressor down and moving to help Keldan up. "It's over."

The pair stood up slowly. "What happened?"

"Ka'Zhaar showed up," said the security officer. "He was armed, and he brought some friends along to make things interesting. To say they didn't want you messing with those conduits would be an understatement." He looked Keldan over carefully, making sure he wasn't wounded; even now, the medic inside him was difficult to forget. "Are you alright?"

"Aside from being totally blind at the moment? Where's Kor'A'Thus?"

"I'm here, Ensign" the voice echoed from across the room.

"And Ka'Zhaar?"

Eytan answered. "Kor'a'Thus managed to get his arm locked behind him and then ran his head into the wall. He's sort of stuck there at the moment."

"Sorry I missed it."

"You should be," the Brenari replied. "It was actually rather satisfying to watch."

Kor'A'Thus interjected. He sounded furious. "I apologize for this incident. I suggest you return to your ship and leave us to handle this matter. Rest assured that Ka'Zhaar and those affiliated with him will be brought to justice. Your assistance will be duly noted and reported to your superiors."

Keldan wasn't exactly sure what Jem'Hadar 'justice' entailed, but he didn't really care. There would be more questions later, he was sure, but for now all he wanted was some distance between himself and this planet of mysterious Jem'Hadar.

"Stranded part IV"

By Pilot Ayden O'Connor
Pilot Ember Lansky
and Pilot Korr Shadin (Dan)

"Vanguard 13 to Vanguard 12, no activity in quadrant 4."

=/\= "Roger that 'Nomad.' Might as well start heading back home." =/\=

Korr didn't reply at first. The breathing mask sucked uncomfortably at his face as he inhaled, but he fought the urge to pull it off. It might not have annoyed him so much had he been in a better mood, but he was bored, and frustrated that he was stuck on routine patrol when the others were on the surface having all the fun.

"Yeah.." Korr replied, but he didn't sound at all convinced. "Hey, give me a few minutes, okay?"

The sudden vigor in his voice should have been a warning sign for Nick, but the two pilots hadn't known each other long enough to decipher the nuances of each other's personalities.

=/\= "Uh, sure Nomad. What's up?" =/\=

Korr hesitated for a moment. The planet stretched out in front of him, filling the bottom half of his sight. It seemed so calm and motionless. Sometimes, looking down, he had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that little people were running around all over the surface.

Ember was down there, and so were the rest of the Vanguards. At least he hopped they were. Since their Runabout had been shot down, there had been no word from any of them.

"Well, since I'm right here, I figured I'd take a peak and see if I can pick up any of the others."

There was a gargle of comm static and then Dead-Stick's voice broke through. =/\= "Are you crazy? You're going to get yourself shot out of the sky!" =/\=

"Hmm.. yeaah, maybe," Korr replied under his breath.

=/\= "What? Say that again? =/\=

"I'm not going to get shot down," Korr laughed sheepishly. "Give me some credit."

=/\= "Nomad, I'm not sure this is a good idea." =/\=

"Aww, c'mon, don't you trust me?"

Before Dead-Stick could answer, the crackled and went dead as Korr entered the atmosphere.

"Great.." he muttered, though he should have realized he would lose contact, just as the ship had lost contact with the away teams. As he passed through the turbulance of the upper atmosphere, he pulled off the breathing mask and inhaled deeply. It was hard to relax with the damn thing sucking at his face.

The expansive stretch of forrest spread out before him. Over the cure of the planet he could make out the oceans covered in the hazy atmosphere.

"Life signs..." he hummed as he prodded the controls to scan the surface as he passed over. "You tiny little life signs... where are you."

* * *

Ayden could feel a part of his subconscious mind begin to pull towards reality, as the cold shiver he had braved against throughout the night slowly melted into a comfortable environment. As his eyes fluttered to an open, he found Ember laying beside him, just as exposed as when they fell asleep. That was when he realized that they were no longer residing in the abandoned installation, rather the confines of one of the Galaxy's transporter rooms.

It was at that moment he became ever so conscious about their present... physical state. Neither of them had any cloths on, save but a light blanket that Ember had found before he came to in the cave. Under his surprise, Ember started to stir in her own restlessness, as he couldn't even begin to anticipate how she would react under these conditions.

Blearily, Ember's eyes fluttered open. In her drowsy state, their compromising position and their surroundings barely registered. She tipped her face, instinctively brushing a few lazy kisses across Ayden's chin and gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey you…up so early?"

Ayden wasn't sure how to react there, she obviously hadn't noticed their change in scenery. He presented her with a weak, sympathetic smile as he graciously pulled the sheets more towards her in order to cover her features. Leaving him more than exposed. "I have good news, and bad news..."

"Already?" She let out a soft laugh, looking up at him with eyes that were half-dreamy with sleep. Closing them, she adjusted her head, snuggling into the crook under his neck and fitted herself to him comfortably, contentedly. Lest he thought she had drifted back into the pleasant ignorant state of slumber, she made a soft, playful murmur. "Tell…"

"The good news is that we're saved... the bad news is... well..." he paused, looking down towards her body as if she were an artistic view of what perfect and beautiful were.

When he didn't continue, she smiled again. There was something about her now, before her defenses, emotional shields and cynicism were fully up and awake that was innocent and blissful. "Baby, there's no such thing as bad news in my -" She was about to say, but in between those few seconds, her eyes had opened. When she didn't see the drab walls of the abandoned facility, her mind had somehow managed to process the words 'we're saved' -- arduously and laboriously understanding it to mean 'we're back in the arms of civilization', and, as she finally saw for herself: 'we have company'.

In an instant, all the sleepiness flew from her and Ember sat up straight, hair mussed but unarguably awake. Meeting her sheepishly, was the embarrassed face of the Ensign manning the Transporter room. That was when it sank in. They were back on Galaxy. Oh boy…

Ayden wasn't sure if there had ever been a more awkward moment for Ember. As quickly as he could, he wrapped the thin blanket around her while hiding towards the back end of the transporter pad. One thing was for sure, is that if anybody found out about this, they'd never let it down. He glanced up towards the Ensign with a modest, yet slightly humored stare. "Ensign, I think we need some uniforms..."

The transporter chief immediately nodded his head and shuffled towards the replicator where he quickly ordered the materialization of two sets of uniforms. They were mustard yellow, which was a farcry from Ayden and Ember's line of service, however that wasn't as important as it was to get her dressed.

Maybe they'd be able to look back at this some day and laugh, but at the moment Ayden was more concerned that Ember would attempt to rectify the situation with a solid punch to Ayden's chin.

Ember was nowhere near embarrassed after the initial shock had faded. With only a hand negligently holding the blanket to cover her modesty, she seemed like she wouldn't have been bothered much if Ayden chose not to put it around her. In fact, she only seemed amused at the poor Ensign's discomfort. He seemed torn between wanting to ogle, and looking away out of sheer courtesy.

Accepting the uniform over, there was a mischievous glimmer in her eye that was almost serious about prolonging the awkwardness for the guy by staying naked. "You're taking the fun out of it," She chided Ayden petulantly.

Ayden grinned with a certain degree of reluctance, he obviously didn't want Ember to be the prize of the rumor mill, but he couldn't have expected her playful tandum towards public nudity. The transporter chief, as gracious as he could be, agreed to wait outside while the two dressed themselves. Ayden was pulling up his pants, hopping on one leg when his eyes locked onto Ember's backside, her sweet curves glowing against the artificial light. It took every bit of self restraint to not just wander over and give her bottom a squeeze.

"So..." he started softly, "I wouldn't suppose you'd be up for a shower after this." He asked her playfully, figuring that they both needed to wash up after spending a whole two days in the wilderness. They'd obviously needed some medical attention as well, and he figured that would probably have to come first.

Public modesty was over-rated, besides it wasn't like they were in *public*. Even if they were, Ember might find herself enjoying the fun of sparking some controversial reactions. It tickled her crazy and amused her no end to stir up the world of people who couldn't take time off to laugh at themselves.

Tugging the jacket onto her shoulders, she turned to Ayden with a teasing glance. "Maybe. It depends on how good a convincing you can give me. What the…… incentive might be." Somehow, she managed to blend coyness with the wicked undertone her words suggested seamlessly. When she was decently dressed again, she didn't wait for him to be done before she started to head out the room. The interesting and admittedly, hilarious part would be seeing how badly he would get himself tangled up in his clothes so he could hurry after her. Ember deliberately sashayed her hips just that bit provocatively too, looking back with a little wink. "I'll see you later… in my quarters."

Ayden had been working to get his pants fastend up completely, but by the sheer sight of her it was like he had lost all concentration. That woman had been an incredible tease since the day they met, with a frustrating high/low profile to her mood. As he watched her mystic slip out of the doors, he realized that his pants had slid back down around his ankles. There had been moments where he wondered if she was worth all this, but for some reason... the incentives of meeting her in her quarters seemed worthy of his devotion.

"Suffer the Little Children" -- pt. 3

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil -- "Radu Prett"
Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist

When the unexpected curtain of transporter haze faded, Brian found himself in a room entirely unlike any other he'd seen so far on this planet.

Apparently an office of some sort, the space and its decor rivaled anything that could be found on one the more "civilized" worlds in Federation territory. Low, thickly looped carpeting the color of sand spread out from where the counselor stood, eventually meeting up with a series of large bookcases that lined two of the room's walls. Some of the shelves actually had books -- something Brian would have guessed entirely absent from this planet -- but most showcased various artifacts and trinkets of artisans and cultures he was not familiar with.

Four walls of the room formed a typical rectangular shape, the two sides with the bookshelves and the third, only about ten feet from where Brian and Kaffa now stood, was empty except for some paintings and a door in the center. The walls were a soft tan color and the entire room was bathed in ample but warm light.

At the end of the room opposite the door, a vast desk stood fortress-like in front of a large window that afforded a panoramic view of a faintly pinkish sky under which the shimmering surface of what appeared to be an ocean spread farther out until it faded into the horizon. The top of the desk was impeccably arranged, its perimeter adorned with a few knicksknacks similar to but smaller than the larger items on the bookshelves. Behind the desk, a prestigious and comfortable looking chair faced toward the sunny view.

Even though he could not see around to identify the chair's occupant, the Betazoid sensed immediately that it wasn't empty.

"You really should be more careful about who you decide to pick a fight with around here," a mellow-toned male voice instructed. "Kaffa, you may go."

Without a sound, the girl turned walked to the door and opened it. Before she had closed it behind her, Brian could see two men in the hallway beyond intercept her and lead her away.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving us, but first, who are you and where am I? And where did you send Kaffa off to?" Brian finally asked, his voice calm but with an unmistakably deadly serious edge.

The voice chuckled slightly, clearly amused by his "guest's" irritation. "Oh, make no mistake, I didn't save you. I simply protected my property from damage."

Brian already didn't like where this was going.

"Don't let the view fool you," the voice continued, "you're still on Vaden. The window is merely a holographic image, one I found much more pleasant than what can be seen otherwise."

"What 'property' are you referring to?" Brian asked, ignoring the information about the window.

"The child, of course."

Bristling at the response, Brian did his best to keep his voice as calm as possible. "That girl is not property, she's--"

"*It* is what I say it is," the voice interrupted, setting aside any pretense of being the well-mannered host. Abruptly, the chair swiveled around in one smooth turn, revealing a pale-complected man with snow white hair. He appeared to be about Brian's age and size, and he was well-dressed in a pure white jacket of some sort. "And *you* are in no position to be contradictory."

"Alright," Elessidil replied, deciding it more prudent to minimize the tension as much as possible for now.

There was a moment of silence, then the white-haired man steepled his fingers in front of himself and smiled with grin that would have given any Cheshire Cat a run for its money. "Don't waste your time trying to scan my thoughts; I'm very good at keeping them...private, shall we say?"

Quietly frustrated that the man could not only sense that he was being telepathically scanned but that he could completely shield himself from it, Brian took another tack. "Very well. Then who are you?" he asked again.

"That's not really important at the moment," the man answered, rising from his elegant chair and turning to look out the holographic window. "But what *is* important is who you are not."

A chill ran down the counselor's spine. It seemed his cover was blown and he didn't even know how.

The man turned from the window to face him again. The smile was absent this time, but his voice was still completely civilized.

"You are not Radu Prett."

"The Intelligence Game"

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Karik'itan (Michael)
Jem'Hadar Scientist
Free Jem'Hadar Settlement

Gral'mev Reth'ang'ir (Francis)
Hydran Officer
RHV Icon of Glory

On the planet's surface...

Zev got himself into a position where he could hear the Hydran and the Jem'hadar speak to each other. The vent had enough room for him to move silently but was otherwise cramped. He had his cell out and was recording not only the conversation, but any and all brain waves in the area, as well as running a passive scan.

He felt very off inside his head... like somewhere nearby a group of people were going through some very strong emotions. He set those feelings aside for a moment and listened to the discussion.

Karik'itan appeared both nervous and somewhat submissive at the Hydran's appearance, but wasn't surprised. Hopefully this wouldn't turn bad.

"What is it Gral, I'm very busy here you know."

Gral'mev Reth'ang'ir fixed all three eye stalks on the little Jem'Hadar. Though the Jem'Hadar were considered physically imposing by many beings, the Hydrans were not one such people. "And you know our agreement, Karik. My lady requires a progress update on the Romulan subjects."

"Goran'agar wanted me to give a couple of the visitors a tour, so I've been away awhile. I have to keep up appearances. Last I heard they were secure and the first tests were being done," the Jem'hadar said with an unusual hint of fear in his voice. Reth'ang'ir wouldn't be pleased.

Reth frowned, in the Hydran manner. "You need to report back to the conclave and oversee the operations. The Gharashk'mev will not tolerate any less than complete success."

"Fine, but he's getting suspicious. I can't be gone for as long. I'm running out of excuses and Gareth is capable enough to proceed in my absence." Karik'itan was clearly nervous, as if he was wanting to say something but wasn't sure if he should.

Reth stood in stony silence, waiting for Karik'itan to continue. There was obviously something that the Jem'Hadar scientist wanted to get off his chest. If it was going to be an obstacle, Reth preferred for it to be out in the open.

"They... sent one of their spies in here. I...didn't have time to raise security," Karik'itan said reluctantly.

It took every ounce of discipline to resist having the idiot terminated. Instead, Reth'ang'ir simply blinked. "Do not return to the conclave. Your duties are at an end. Stay there and distract the interloper. Your incompetance nearly cost us everything. Make sure you don't make anymore mistakes."

"Very well", Karik'itan deactivated the com system and began looking around nervously. For the first time, he didn't know what to do.

Raynor watched Karik'itan leave. Before he dropped out of the vent to take a quick look around. He saw a terminal which was left on, and began a quick copy and paste making sure there was no computer traps for his access. This process would take 2 and a half minutes. It looked like genetic information though Raynor wasn't going to take the time to read it.

While the cell was downloading, he quickly looked around the room for any resources that were left out, samples in particular. He saw three vials of blood. Rather than swipe all vials directly, he got out three small needles and took only a small percentage of each, as quickly as he could without making anything noise, or dropping them.

After he was done this, he decided he didn't have any more time, and went back for his cell, which had finished its download ten seconds earlier, and made his way back to the vent. Undoubtably, the Jem'hadar would set off the security teams to start looking for Raynor, as he began to crawl as quickly and quietly as he could without reaching his sweating point or getting having his clothes catch onto a jagged edge. Raynor used his telepathy to make a quick double check of where the bastard was. Headed to the security center to alert the guards.

Raynor didn't have time to get lost so he was constantly comparing in his mind where he was relative to the hallways he had seen while following Karik'itan. He just hoped he would be able to get there crawling to before Kirak'itan got there walking.

---

Karik'itan stood outside the door, as he looked over to the three security Jem'Hadar he had with him. One nod was enough. He walked in, he openned the door and saw Raynor standing them looking over a terminal reading up on local botany. Raynor had turned, but he was not startled, no panic in his eyes, or tiredness in his breathe. He wasn't even sweating from the somewhat heated room.

After a two hour discussion on the subject, and scanning Raynor intensely with sensors outside the room, to which they only found his training weights that he wore on both his forearms and legs nearly all the time now, which were made out of a heavy metal. After seeing this, Karik'itan let him go, convinced that Raynor could not have been spying on them. After all keeping him risked discovery for someone who had done nothing and was not vital to their experiments. And there was no doubt in Karik'itan's mind that Raynor had not done anything.

Raynor picked up his weapons which he had deposited at the front door, at left in the usual manner, beaming up soon afterward.

---

Raynor didn't even sigh when he got back on board. It had been close, but he had been pulling off a very delicate act so as to make sure that the Jem'Hadar weren't even aware about the information Raynor had gotten a hold of. Making sure the enemy doesn't know you know what you know was just as much a part of intelligence as knowing what your enemy is up to.

Raynor withdrew the cell from under his training weight. The blood samples were there too, and Raynor had been fortunate enough to grap a hair sample freshly fallen off of Karik'itan's head. It would undoubtably prove useful. He began to run off to report the information he had just recieved...

off: takes place shortly after "Double Helix, part two"

"Turn"

Lt. Ella Grey

=========

I lie on the exam table, watching the ceiling as my thoughts circle round and round my head like vultures hovering above a dying animal.

Once, I would have criticized myself for being overly dramatic but now I just mentally shrug and leave the analogy alone. The real vultures that are hovering over my motionless body have just finished with their probing and prodding which means that the slicing and dicing is coming up next in our program.

I think I've earned the right to be a bit dramatic, overly or otherwise.

When you're strapped down, about to be the unwilling focus of someone's anatomy lesson, or alien science experiment- both of which amount to the same thing for me, you ask yourself many, many questions, chief of them being "Why the hell did I get out of bed this morning?"

You come up with interesting little factoids and realisations about your life like no one has ever asked you whether you like waffles with peanut butter or that some of the worst moments of your life seem to happen while you are lying flat on your back.

But there are only so many questions and deep thoughts a person can afford to ponder in times such as these or at least that's what I tell myself. They don't care whether or not I wrote Laura Harper last week or whether I remembered to write down the idea I had for a holo program for Corran.

They don't know whether Corran and I would have made it, you know given half a chance and no scapels, and they certainly don't know the answer to the question I have asked so many times now that it is bordering on a mantra: How do you apologize to someone who won’t listen to you?

There are only so many questions and deep thoughts and then it's time to move to escape and rescue fantasies that vary in their degrees of reality. In one scenario, I am able to suddenly leap off of this cold gurney and take out my captors without aid of any weapon but my fist. In a more realistic version, a rescue team from the Galaxy is about to break down the doors to save us. Victor is key in most of these scenarios, simply because why wouldn't he be?

Despite how he feels, or doesn't feel about me now, Victor always catches me when I fall.

And when questions and thoughts and dreams of rescue fail you, where do you turn next? I knew of course having been here before. People knock the "happy place" all the time but, when trying to stay calm, and more importantly sane, it can be all that you have left.

I started by thinking about Corran and I sailing on the ocean.

"The Tormented Soul"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, 188th Furies Detachment

He was a tormented man. That much was true. Restless nights filled with nightmares of events past were the mere top of the iceberg of issues that surrounded him. Constantly at odds with everything that he did, everything that he remembered, the destruction that he had brought to innocent people. It enveloped him like an evening mist in a valley. Even now, as he trudged on in the rock strewn cavern towards the helpless trapped Jem'Hadar child, he found them encroaching on his thoughts.

The Bajoran Tactical officer walked a few paces ahead, keeping within the barest of light that the single flaming torch, held aloft by Gar'Han'a'Mar, seemed to give off, unaware of the turmoil that was boiling under the surface of the Marine.

Many long sleepless nights he had spent, lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, while past deeds came to visit. Too often, when he did finally manage to get to sleep, he'd wake in a cold sweat, the nightmares receding to slowly, leaving him with more visions of the past. Every few days this would happen. Every few days the dead walked in his dreams again.

He had tried everything. Hot drinks, cold drinks, cold showers before bed, hypnosis, counseling and even Carnelian Largo Root, purported to be the best sleep inducing natural drug around. He had even forced himself to visit the local medical center to get some sleeping drugs. Nothing so far had worked. And now that he was on the Galaxy, it would be harder to find new things to try, for most of the new ideas had been coming from travelers and explorers from other races.

The last few years, since Dagama Prime, had been the worst. Ever since that incident the dreams had come. Oh, how he missed her. He missed her a lot, especially her calming influence. Damn him. Damn that pompous prick and his bad attitude. Why did he have to do what he had done. Bastard. Hopefully he was trapped on some backwater shithole trying to stay sane. No, that would have been too good for him.

Lost in his thoughts, Jonas almost missed that the Tactical officer had slowed down as she neared the boy's location. Quickly he corrected his wayward direction and pulled up along side her.

It was time to rescue the boy.

“Being Nosy…”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer – USS Galaxy

Na’Toha
Medical Doctor – Jem’Hadar Colony

Tru'Haran

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

Returning to the colony after the dust had settled from Ka’Zhaars little bout of insurrection Kimberly wandered the halls of the medical facility looking for Na’Toha, there were signs of the recent trouble around her as she walked through the facility, a few scorch marks on the walls, damaged furniture or equipment, but none of that was what she was here to discuss with Na’Toha… other things were happening, and this place was not exactly stable she realised.

Finding the tall female Jem’Hadar after only a few moments Kimberly smiled in greeting, while she still had her doubts as to the veracity of what was happening here she supposed she should be an upstanding Starfleet officer and give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

~ It’s what we do, isn’t it! ~ she reminded herself.

“Welcome back to Tru’Haran Doctor,” Na’Toha greeted the short Terran as she saw her, “I am pleased you’ve returned. Rana`Teran has been informed of what transpired here, he will be investigating the extent of it!”

“Glad to hear it, though that’s not the only strange goings on around here is it?” she said, not really meaning it as a question, perching on a nearby desk Kimberly smiled, “Mind if I ask a question?”

“Please do,” Na’Toha offered congenially.

“Where was the power going?”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” NaToha asked with a trace of confusion,

“Well, where was that extra power being diverted to?” Kimberly asked curiously, “we sort of started touching on the topic, but we were sort of… distracted,” she finished a little wryly.

Looking uncertain for the first time since Kimberly had met her Na’Toha shook her head, “I do not know,” she admitted, “Rana`Teran was to investigate that as soon as he is able to, but he has yet to investigate, as you have said, there are other things happening.”

“Well, I had a little chat with one of the young techie geniuses who noticed it in the first place,” holding up a tricorder she waved it gently, “short range only but he thinks he may have figured out a way to trace the power flow, if you’re interested, and since Ka’Zhaar and his mob are, shall we say otherwise occupied, I though I’d offer a little more assistance.”

“I must admit to some curiosity as to what they were up to,” Na’Toha agreed, setting aside the PADD’s she was working on she stood, “please, lead on,” she asked.

Feeling a small twinge of uncertainty as she activated the tricorder Kimberly tried to banish it as she scanned the area, she had offered to come down, and alone, figuring that she could always be beamed out if things got hairy, plus she had a good feeling about Na’Toha… Scanning the area, she stepped out of the small office and into the corridor, “This way, the power was going into the research area if I recall, but the scans seem to show it going a little deeper, is there a way down?”

Following Na’Toha’s lead through the medical complex Kimberly was aware of the strange image the two presented as they walked, “So tell me?” she asked as they walked down some stairs, “are you married?”

“Married?” the Jem’Hadar replied with a touch of confusion, “as in bonded to a life mate?”

“Uh...huh,” Kimberly replied simply, indicating a darkened corridor at the bottom of the stairs, “this way.”

“I have a… companion,” Na’Toha admitted, “as a people we are still exploring what it is to have a culture, and while there are those of us who agree with the principle of monogamous relationships, there are others who believe that due to our limited numbers, genetic diversity is more important at this point… it is an ongoing debate,” she said with a smile, “what about you? Are you, married?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head, looking up to Na’Toha, “not yet… let’s just say I’m debating between the monogamy and diversity theory myself at the moment.”

Laughing aloud, Na’Toha shook her head and looked around, “I haven’t been down here for a long time,” she admitted, “these are some of the early support tunnels, we’re under the research section now.”

“Well I’m game to explore if you are,” Kimberly said as she led the way, ~ I like her! ~ she decided, “any children?”

“Just one,” Na’Toha said simply as they walked, “you?”

~ Only one? ~ Kimberly thought, considering their accelerated growth, and the fact they’d been here since the end of the war, around seven years or so she would have expected one or two more, “Not exactly,” she replied to the question, “I have a ward, uh… a child I am responsible for, but not a child I gave birth to,” she explained as she ducked under a low pipe, “I was discussing children with… someone I cared for, a while back but we were assigned to separate duty posts…” trailing off she brushed a web of some local critter away from her face, shaking her head she let the brief memory pass.

“So you would rather be monogamous then?” Na’Toha queried.

“I guess so,” Kimberly admitted, looking around, “I have ‘no’ idea where we are,” she admitted.

“I recall these old tunnels from the construction of the facilities,” Na’Toha offered, “they are primarily used for power and other utility distribution, as the systems are mostly self regulating only occasional maintenance is required. Ka’Zhaar would have been responsible for that,” she explained thoughtfully.

“Giving him the access he needed to do whatever it is he was up to down here,” Kimberly surmised.

“A reasonable assumption,” the Jem’Hadar doctor agreed, “how are the tests on the inoculations proceeding?”

“All but done,” Kimberly assured her, “testing it for, and on, the various carbon based life forms on the crew has gone well, while anyone with cobalt based blood will have to wait a while though for the final round of tests, but iron and copped based species should be fine now,” she added, “from our tests it doesn’t look like it will affect silicon based life forms, but we’re still investigating… I could use a sample of the venom though?” she asked.

“I will see what I can arrange, it decays rapidly though once outside of the predator,” she explained, “perhaps you would simply prefer one of the predators?”

~ I don’t really need a pet… ~ Kimberly thought wryly, aloud though, “If that’s the best way, thank you, we can always return it once we’ve got the samples we need,” she reasoned, “do you mind me asking how old you are?”

“I am three.”

“And already a Doctor and medical administrator?” Kimberly said with some surprise, “It’s taken me a helluva lot longer than that to get where I am.”

“Medicine and genetics are new sciences to us,” Na’Toha admitted, “while there are older Jem’Hadar with more knowledge they prefer to put it to use rather than spend their time running an office, I am still learning many things about being a doctor…”

~ Three! Damn! ~ Kimberly thought as they turned a corner and came face to face with a large door.

~ Now that’s a ‘big’ door! ~ Kimberly realised as she scanned it, over two meters thick and comprised of a variety of materials it was a very solidly built door, and apparently connected to an equally solid wall… Looking at the locking mechanism she frowned, “Any ideas?” she asked Na’Toha.

“It appears to be a standard lock, similar to the ones installed throughout the facility,” she replied with some curiosity, tapping the lock she played with it a while and, much to her own surprise it seemed opened the door after only a moments work.

“That was easy?” Kimberly said a little hesitantly, wondering if coming here alone was such a good idea now.

“Indeed,” Na’Toha replied, sounding a little concerned herself, “the lock was connected to the colony security systems, as a senior administrator my access level has allowed me to open the door, but I do not know what is here,” she admitted.

“Shall we find out?” Kimberly suggested as the massive door swung silently and swiftly open, “or shall we call for backup?”

“I do not know who to call,” Na’Toha said with a trace of concern in her voice, “this is…” unable to complete the sentence she looked to Kimberly with obvious confusion on her face.

“Let’s find out what’s inside,” Kimberly suggested, “perhaps then we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on, and who we should talk to, if all else fails we’ll call my Captain.”

“Agreed,” leading the way through the door Na’Toha stepped into the room beyond and stopped just inside, stopping so suddenly Kimberly found herself walking into her back. Stepping around the tall Jem’Hadar female she was about to berate her gently for her impersonation of the massive door when she saw what lay in the room beyond.

Row after row of cloning tubes and stasis tubes were lined up in a cavernous room, many floors deep. While most of the stasis tubes appeared to be idle and dark, many of the cloning and incubation tubes were active, and from here looked to be well and truly occupied.

“Uh… Na’Toha,” Kimberly asked, “how many people did you say lived here?” she asked softly, ~ So much for the natural breeding! ~ she thought, ~ Looks like a population boost is on the way… ~ “You, uh, didn’t know this was here?” she asked, as she looked down to the floor several levels below them, watching the comings and goings of quite a few Jem’Hadar… all armed.

~ Not good! ~

"Mind's Eye, Part 2"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer, USS Galaxy

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara
Operations Chief, USS Galaxy

Senior Chief Petty Officer Renora Loret
Tactical Analyst, USS Galaxy

With:

Trem'Ore
Jem'Hadar Child

Gar'Han'a'Mar
Jem'Hadar Male

Ma'u'Ral
Jem'Hadar Child

****

Planetside
The Cavern

As the introductions finished and Chief Renora started to move forward, Victor frowned. "Someone's behind us," he said quietly, his toneless voice somehow not echoing the way everyone else's did. "I can't help here without making things worse - I'll check on it." As he turned and started back into the shadows, silent as Death, his final whisper carried back, "Remember what I said, Chief."

Renora turned to reply but the darkness had already taken Victor. She snapped her head back around and returned to the task at hand.

Jonas looked in the direction that Trem'Ore was pointing. "It's not far," he said.

"Can you lead us. My eyesight here isn't as good as yours seems to be." He said to the two Jem'Hadar.

Giving a nod in agreement, Gar'Han'a'Mar moved to Trem'Ore's side. "Lead us little one". The two Jem'Hadar, elder and youngster started leading the way.

Renora had joined him at that point. The Bajoran woman's eyes seemed to dart around a lot, trying to peer into the darkness that surrounded the torch that Jonas had lit.

"Hi Chief. I'm Steven Jonas." He introduced himself, extending his hand.

Renora took the mans hand and shook it. She recognized the man from when she'd been looking over the marine facilities with Branwen, he'd been somewhere in the background. "Nice to meet you lieutenant. Renora Loret."

"Shall we go see what we can do for the young boy?" He asked, indicating the receding outlines of their Jem'Hadar 'friends'.

She noted the tone in his voice and his use of the word friends, though thought better than to comment. "What ever you say. Do you want me to take point?"

Jonas nodded. "Certainly."

****

Planetside
The Cave

Quiet beeping echoed off the cave walls as Iniara pressed on, still determined to find the rest of her team. With nothing more than a standard issue flashlight and a tricorder to show her the way, the going was a bit slow. But at least she was making progress.

The tunnel began to slope downward and to the left. Iniara braced herself for the change, but soon found it unnecessary as her grav chair adjusted to the slope almost effortlessly. It was an odd though not entirely unpleasant feeling. She would have preferred to be walking by now, but there was something to be said for a piece of equipment that silently and efficiently took you wherever you wanted to go. Though, traversing the cave was a bit odd without the sounds of crunching rock underfoot.

That was it, she decided at last. That was the piece that kept bugging her. It was too damn quiet. She'd spent years hiding out in caves during the Occupation, so the close walls and flickering shadows were nothing new to her. But there should have been something, anything, that would make a little sound. Even if it was nothing more than boots on rock.

Sighing, she closed the tricorder and brought her grav chair to a halt. By now she thought she would have found the remainder of her team. Even with modifications, the tricorder had been all but useless. She would just have to try something else.

Darkness rushed in as Iniara suddenly cut power to her flashlight. She sat like that for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the absolute blackness of the cave. It was a stupid move, and one she might regret later, but in her weakened state it would help her concentrate.

Slowly, almost timidly, she reached out with her mind. Most of her psi powers still hadn't returned after the Dithparu attack, but she was by no means psi-null. It just took a little more focus. She inhaled deeply, stretching her invisible boundary.

Exhaling, she stretched again. Something tickled the back of her mind. It felt like there was someone out there. She focused on the presence, trying to identify it. The tickle came again; but it wasn't really a tickle, it was more like a scraping against the inside of her skull. It felt human, yet...not. Jem'Hadar? No, no, this was...different. Almost familiar. Chief Renora? No, it didn't feel like any Bajoran Iniara had ever known. Was it Krieghoff? She had never met the security officer; she had no way of knowing that for sure. But whoever-- or whatever it was, it was coming closer. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard, slowly reaching for the combadge on her chest.

Victor was close now. Slipping through the darkness like a part of it, like he *was* it, was easy; he'd hunted in situations like this before. In the darkness, even an inferior opponent was an equal. This was different though, since he wasn't certain that he was dealing with an actual opponent. He'd recognized the sound that had filtered faintly through the caves instantly, known what it was - but he didn't believe that the one person he connected it with would be here. If they were - if she was - then something was very, very wrong. Not even to save a child would Counselor Dallas ever approach him in her grav chair again - certainly not in this dark, enclosed space where her nightmares would be magnified to the point of being indistinguishable from reality.

He paused a moment and took a silent breath. The scent that carried to him was tainted by fear... but it wasn't Karyn Dallas, not unless she had changed her soap and other hygiene products. Whoever it was, they were scared, though. Not as scared as Dallas would be if she were here, but scared nonetheless.

Victor wasn't scared. Even the one thing that had scared him, the only fear that the entity on the Defiant had been able to find no longer seemed... important. He simply was what he was now, the soft rush as his thoughts and feelings and even his one fear were pulled into the void inside him making things so much easier, so much simpler. He just listened to the sound of the silence inside him and everything was still - as still as the darkness around him. This was, he realized, better even than being green. If you were green, you blended in with so many other, ordinary things. If you were the darkness, then you blended in with... everything.

Another silent step and he was within a meter of the grav chair. A fleeting memory of Counselor Dallas' face, of her struggling under his hands, of the feel of his fist impacting her face slipped through his mind and was lost in the darkness inside him, the darkness within that matched the darkness without. Whoever this was, she had no place here.

"Go back," he said quietly, the words again seemingly failing to echo as they should.

Iniara's heartbeat jumped as the words fell on her ears. The presence she had felt was all around her now, threatening to envelop her completely, and she wanted nothing more to turn and flee. But the odd familiarity of it kept her rooted to that spot. She had to find out what it was. Inside her mind, her shields dropped.

It hit her much harder than she expected and she froze, unable to move, unable to even speak. A hard lump formed in her throat as her mind conjured up a thousand terrible visions with a million terrible outcomes, and suddenly she regretted ever coming planetside. For now she was trapped in a dark cave, alone with something that was going to kill her. No, worse. It was going to eat her soul.

Iniara swallowed hard, trying to gather some courage, trying to speak. "If you are here to kill me," she replied in barely more than a whisper, "get it over with." The blackness of the cave took her words almost instantaneously, removing the one thing that had stood between her and...it.

Kill her? Victor didn't even know who she was, so he had no idea if he needed to kill her or not - but from the stink of fear and the sound of her voice, he knew *what* she was... Betazoid. No other race reacted like this to him. Another flickering memory of Karyn Dallas' face as it rocked back from one of his blows flashed through his mind and fell into the blackness that was inside him, surrounding him - that was him.

"Why?" he asked abruptly. Perhaps she would tell him why he needed to kill her and make it easy.

"Because you're...him," she stammered, putting emphasis on the last word. "It's...what you do." Iniara fumbled for the flashlight in her lap, determined to see one last thing before her life came crashing to an end. But her hands were shaking too hard, and before she could activate it the flashlight had slipped out of her hands, clattering noisily to the ground.

Instinct kicked in and she grabbed at the next item she could find. To her dismay it felt like a tricorder, and not the hand phaser she had hoped for. But it was better than nothing. She pulled it open, bathing the immediate area in a weak light.

Iniara inhaled sharply as she realized how close it-- no, he-- really was to her. Reflexively she slouched down, as if trying to disappear into the back of the grav chair. For here was a being which looked to her eyes like a man, had the form and face of a man, but which she could *see* was much more. "You're..." Her mouth moved as if trying to form more words, but in the grip of fear and awe she knew the sounds wouldn't come. "You're..."

The Lieutenant even shrank into her chair the same way that Karyn Dallas had when she realized what was about to happen, her hands scrabbling for something to use as a weapon. Odd, but perhaps not that odd - there were, after all, only so many ways to move in one of those things. That she should move in the exact same manner as had Counselor Dallas had - or how Victor remembered the Counselor as having moved - was interesting, though.

"Turn it off," Victor advised quietly, his words toneless. The woman would go mad if she didn't shut down her receptors, and he had no desire to carry her out of these caves. Another memory popped into his head unbidden, the feel of the catches holding Karyn Dallas in her chair under his fingers. "You can't run; you're trapped in the chair. Turn it off."

****

Planetside
The Cavern

The walk had not taken long, the minutes could have been counted on one hand. And out of the darkness it had loomed, like the big gaping maw of some giant monster. It wasn't so much of a hole. A crack in the ground would have been a better description. At least it seemed that way to Jonas.

"It is here." Trem'Ore stated matter-of-factly, pointing to the hole while looking up at the Marine.

Jonas nodded.

"Ma'u'Ral, can you hear me? Are you there?" The elder Jem'Hadar called out.

The response echoed up from the hole. "Yeah, I am here!" The voice replied.

"Hold on. We are going to get you out." Gar'Han'a'Mar said back.

Jonas had no idea how they were going to achieve that. There didn't seem to be any tools or rope lying around for them to use. He wondered how far down the boy was. Knowing that would help them determine the best course of action. So he unslung his rifle, switched on the flashlight and aimed the weapon downwards. He ignored the startled gasps of the others. He was keeping his fingers well away from the trigger, so their gasps held no merit.

The beam from the flashlight melted the darkness away, revealing a crack in the rock as wide as the hallways on the Galaxy. Outcroppings of rock were visible a short way down, blocking the boy from sight. And then an arm appeared out of the darkness, waving back and forward furiously.

"I'm here." The young boy exclaimed excitedly.

<Your turn>

Then it came to him. The solution. A surprisingly simple solution at that. Since the boy was only a few meters down, they could lower someone down, head first, to allow the boy to grab onto their outstretched arms and be pulled to safety. He detailed the plan to the others. They could lower him down to get the boy. But Renora didn't seem to agree.

"It's a good plan but for one small wrinkle." Renora was saying.

"Go on..."

"I don't know about you," She indicated the elder Jem'Hadar, "but there is no way that I would be able to pull you up, let alone you and the boy."

Jonas nodded. "Okay, so are you suggesting that we lower you down instead?"

"Suffer the Little Children" -- pt. 4

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil -- "Radu Prett"
Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist

For the first time since embarking on this mission, Brian was genuinely worried, but he made sure he didn't show the slightest hint of concern to his "host". And just in case the guy also happened to be a telepath, he kept his mind well shielded. He offered the man no response.

"You...are a spy," the man continued, his cadence matching the slow pace at which he walk around his desk. "And judging by your articulate...but annoyingly self-righteous tone...I'd say a Federation spy."

"What makes you think I'm not Radu Prett?" Brian asked in an effort to learn whatever he possibly could about who this man was.

The man simply smirked as he stopped in a partially sitting position against the front of the desk. "Mister Prett and I have engaged in some...business dealings. I make it a habit to get to know the people I associate with very well," he said, as he looked down to brush a piece of lint off his pants. When he looked up again, he stared straight into the counselor's eyes. "It's always good to know who you can trust."

"I was thinking the same thing," Elessidil answered, returning the man's gaze.

Again the Cheshire Cat grin. "I'm sure you were. But...as you are in my office, on my planet -- alive thanks only to my intervention, I might add -- you will need to earn my trust if you ever wish to set foot outside this room again."

The grin and tone notwithstanding, Brian could tell the threat was real.

"And you can begin earning my trust by telling me who you are and why you're here."

There was no way Brian was going to tell this man anything about who he really was. To do so would not only do nothing to improve his own circumstances, it would jeopardize the entire mission and everyone else on the team as well.

"First tell me who you are and what you've done with Kaffa."

"I can tell you're a reasonably intelligent man," the man in white said, slowly shaking his head, "so I have no choice but to assume you are being uncooperative." This time, he stopped leaning on the desk and walked to where Brian stood, his face little more than a foot from Brian's. "Do you know what happened to the last spy I encountered on Vaden?"

Immediately Elessidil's thoughts went to Lieutenant Florjan. Could she have been the spy he was referring to?

Something in Brian's eyes must have given away his mental reaction to the question, because the man in white seemed to notice.

"Struck a chord, have I?" he toyed. Like a vulture, he began slowly circling his new captive, regarding him from every side with a sinister sneer. "No...perhaps you don't know. But I think you'd very much like to...."

Brian found the man more insidious and loathsome by the minute. He was no mere thug of the usual variety that inhabited the streets below -- or above, wherever this place was.

"What I'd very much like to know is who you are and what you've done with Kaffa," Elessidil repeated for the third time, the irritation even more apparent in his voice now.

The man just narrowed his eyes, stopping when they were once again face to face. "I'm sorry," he began with an obviously insincere tone of regret, "but I'm afraid you've failed to win my trust after all, and so I won't be able to tell you anything."

A moment later, the door through which Kaffa had exited earlier suddenly opened, and the same two men whom Brian had seen lead her away each grabbed him by an arm. He stiffened in response, but chose not to try to resist.

"Put him in the cell."

“The T'lan Option”

By Lieutenant jg T'lan, Security Officer

Location: Planetside, Kappel Valley

She panted, paced, and ran for all she was worth. Shuf-shuf her feet went on the damp ground, solid impacts of her feet on agricultural soil bearing stalks twice her height. She ran under a canopy of night stars, bright as diamonds against the swirling rust red and black of the typhon expanse. Her nose twitched in the damp air, her sense of smell keener than most humanoids on her ship, able to detect the earthy smell of moisture, the tangy but slight reek of fertilizer and manure to her left, the pollen of the quadratriticale and the cornlike plant she couldn't identify but was passing through, and the effervescence of night air circulated by a light wind. Her skin had goosepimples; Vulcans were more used to desert climates and even temperate regions had a tiny Nordic bite to them. This planet was peaceful and serene, a picture perfect view of a colony.

To stand and appreciate it was to invite her own capture, so like her other annoyances, it took a backseat to immediate concerns.

It was night, hours past their first landing on the planet, hours before the ambush. How much time passed T'lan couldn't accurately say; though a Vulcan's internal clock was as precise as anything else in them, she had the misfortune of being unconscious for an undisclosed amount of time. It vexed her, but took a backseat to her current problems, which she had to admit eclipsed her internal clock a hell of a lot more.

Her escape, short of miraculous, had a lot to do with timing and her Vulcan strengths. She was able to handle a stun grenade better than the others in her team, and with that she woke earlier and escaped by force. To her dismay, she could not bring her comrades with her, including her superior officer, James Lionel Corgan. That in turn brought on a very logical conclusion; RUN! And run she did, out of the city and into the farmer's fields past that, not stopping for anything short of a quick tricorder scan.

She tried the tricorder again, remembering a trick from James about the Jem'Hadar and their cloaking abilities. The Jem'Hadar could distort light and even to some measure control heat. But not all was perfect. Light refraction and distortion could still be detected by a well tuned tricorder; not very precise, but when one saw light bending around the shape of a humanoid, even a terran could logically surmise that a Jem'Hadar was charging.

The tricorder read negative. She left it on scan to warn her of incoming distortions and continued to run.

She then tried her communicator. Instead of a cheery chirp and a welcomed hail from the USS Galaxy, she was greeted with hissing, popping static... again. If T'lan had emotions, she would have been very angry, having run since her escape for multiple hours with Jem'Hadar on her trail. Without them, she settled for an unimpressive dissatisfaction regarding current results. If anything, the interference was getting worse as she went along, the static more dinful and harsh to her pointed ears.

Once again she had to rely on her tricorder, switching modes to scan the immediate cartography. Though the link to her ship was severed, it drew up a basic map of the surrounding ten kilometer vicinity using small subspace bursts and reflections to send back to the tricorder every hill, hillock, boulder and cornstalk in the limited range. A crude facsimile by her exacting Vulcan standards, but one that would have to do.

One of the blips found something of interest, though her screen was plagued by sensor jamming. There was a thick blotch of sub spacial distortion a kilometer away, showing itself on her screen like a wart.

This was the place to avoid.

It was when T'lan reactivated the tricorder's passive light reflection scan and begin to put per first foot away from the interference that logic finally flicked on the proverbial lightswitch.

The interference, wherever it was, reached them in town. Ever since she had left town, she was walking towards the source of the interference. Lieutenant T'lan Considered the time invested in her travel, three hours, twenty five minutes, eighteen seconds and counting. Then the range, which must have been eighteen kilometers, five meters from town. Then using Vek'nar's rule of subspace disturbance, the estimated energy output of the distortion source and its strength judged both in town and here, she estimated that the one source alone could jam communications from anything short of a ship beacon for a six hundred square kilometer area, let alone her communicator for a further thirty six hundred more. Then there was the possibility of more being placed on the planet, an assumption that would be logical if the Jem'Hadar wanted to effectively trap all of their landing parties.

So rather than walk all that way, she decided to save herself the time and energy and go towards the interference.

It was, after all, a more logical choice than running blind through cornstalks.

**********

Her un-Vulcan curiosity was satisfied, to a point. She now knew what could possibly be worse than trudging through endless kilometers of forests and fields.

She was looking at a towering dish, the size of the USS Galaxy's deflector array, pointed at the jeweled night sky, a silhouette shadowing over her as its moon circled above. It was mounted on a squat, concrete building that looked more like a bunker than a communications tower, in the middle of a long expanse flattened and cleared of vegetation. She saw five guards, all Jem'Hadar, and unlike the constabulary of Kappel Valley, judging by the cycle of their patrols, took their duties very seriously.

Her advantages, though not enough to suit her liking (which was absolutely safe), was that the communications blackout had to go both ways. Their communications was just as sketchy as hers, and their sensors wouldn't have been much better. The only way to see her was to scan infrared, which would not identify her from any other person (but then again, who else but strangers would be out in the field at night?).

The answer had to come from somewhere. How was she to sneak in? From there her possibilities were endless. The dish was powerful enough to scythe through interference and call the USS Galaxy, or she could disrupt communications planetside. Thinking out what to do, she thought of her commanding officer and what he would do. Most likely a swath of destruction, all guards dead or dying, and the communications dish spitting out sector wide logic bombs to every enemy ship, shuttle and outpost in a one hundred parsec radius, then satchelcharging the power core until it overloaded and turned itself into a anti-matter irradiated nuclear slag crater... all while listening to either some rock and roll or Beethoven (whatever would be more dramatic at the time), then sit back in the cornfield, wave goodbye to the dearly departed Jem'Hadar, and drink a bottle of Saurian Brandy while he watched the mushroom cloud rise higher and higher, acting as an overgrown smokesignal that the USS Gala xy could see from orbit.

But that would be T'lan from before. She knew James was more sensible than that, but not much more so. Either way, T'lan had felt a twinge in her heart, strong by Vulcan standards, muted by Vulcan control. She felt guilty for letting James get captured, and moreso for not stopping the transporter beam. In their years of working together, she had come to respect her commanding officer, and derive satisfaction in his company.

That line of thinking was going to distract her to an early death. She had to push it aside, look for James later, get to safety now.

If James was here, he would not try to be fancy, but straightforward. T'lan in contrast went with more complex but working plans. She knew the infrared would work, to what range she didn't know. The Jem'Hadar hadn't spotted her at the edge of the field yet, that much she was certain, but their intervals made it impossible to sneak by without being spotted.

The infrared did work...

Her plan was formulating, as her hands hacked into her procured polaron rifle, snatching apart wires. She had her tricorder's faceplate open, and before long she was joining the two together. She had a plan, weather it would work or not depended on the Jem'Hadar.

********

Haktulon was a talker, like any bored sentry, and it drove Merkala mad.

“You have to wonder where the search parties are.” Haktulon recounted whistfully, his voice full of envy, “We see their craft fan out but for all we know they have nothing. How lucky of them. They have something to do. We... get to watch.”

Merkala snapped back, his annoyance at being snapped out a serendipitous moment of enjoying the sound of alien cricket from his lawnchair, “Mind your tongue. If they found you worthy, you would be with the tracking teams. For now you guard the dish. Loyalty is life. Remember that.”

Haktulon muttered, “Maybe in your generation...”

Merkala was about to smack the impetuous youth, but held back and laughed. “Man the sentry scanner like you're supposed to. I'll search with my eyes and ears. Someone has to have enough brains to do that.”

Not liking that order a bit, Haktulon trudged to a console. “Fine, old man. You're too good for consoles?” He once overed the equipment, tapping the pad and scanning the vicinity. “Lets see how good your eyes and ears are when.... wait a second...”

“What is it?” Merkala asked, concerned.

Haktulon snapped, “How in a Vorta's backside should I know?! Communications are jammed, and I can't get a proper scan. But I see a heat signature. To the west!” Haktulon snatched up his rifle, bellowed out to the other sentries, “Perimeter! West forty nine degrees! Investigate!”

Three of the sentries sprinted to the heat signature. Haktulon then watched from behind; young as he was he knew to watch to the east while sentries went out to investigate. Merkava, the veteran that thought he knew all, watched the sentry team go to the heat signature with his own tricorderlike device, thwacking it once or twice to get a better signal. Haktulon sniffed contemptuously; Merkala might not have thought much of him, but the veteran was still a bully and a brute.

“There they have it.” Merkala grumbled, “Look at them, spaced so unevenly, it is a wonder that I'm stuck with these amateurs. But they do make good time... a few seconds more.”

He couldn't see what was going on, but Haktulon tried to listen. Merkala sounded happy in turn, but then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He grumbled, deeper, louder, then he hollered, “GET OUT OF THERE! THAT'S A FEDERATION TRICORDER! IT'S A.........”

Just then, a flash of light went off, bright as a thousand novas. Merkala fell off his lawnchair, screaming as if stuck by his own pike, covering and gouging as his eyes. Haktulon, thanking the elders for his luck and Merkala's stupidity, wasn't blinded by the polaron flare.

He hadn't much else to be thankful for as he felt a hand on his shoulder, then a wave of nausea as his equilibrium spun out of control and his sight faded to black.

**********

Wasting no time, T'lan dispatched the guards. They were either unconscious, or screaming in pain. She thought she migh