"Danger Abounds, Part 3"

Lt. (JG) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath Intelligence Officer

Ensign Eytan
Security Officer

Ensign T'Rei
Security Officer

Sgt. Major Thral
SFMC, Furies Detachment (Written by Michael)

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter
Chief Science Officer

2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

****
Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

8-ball and Steven, in a bit of desperate optimism, waved at the others coming at them. "Hey," 8-ball yelled at him. "You the rescue squad?"

One of them smiled and waved back, before pulling out a scanner. And then, after a brief scan, he and the others with him, pulled out their phasers and started shooting.

8-ball made a sound that was a little closer to a yelp than she would have liked. She and Steven turned and ran for it. "Apparently not," 8-ball muttered as they ran.

Having seen their rescue party, or what they had assumed was the rescue party, start shooting, Steven decided then and there that he really hated this O'Shea woman and hoped he could meet her and give her a taste of her own medicine. One day. If they got out of here.

"Hey," Jonas said between breaths, "You think they might notice a little quicksand?"

"Not likely. It's not like it looks any different."

"Yeah, exactly. We lure them to the quicksand and hope to get them trapped," He responded.

"Okay," 8-ball said, because it wasn't like she had a better plan, or any plan, for that matter that didn't go like ~Run run RUN!~

"You want to lead or should I?"

"You go ahead and lead," 8-ball said. "I'm a little too terrified to be feeling very feminist right now."

Holo-Raynor started yelling, "KILL THE HOLOGRAMS! KILL THEM BEFORE THEY KILL US! EYTAN TAKE THEM ON THE LEFT! T'REI TAKE RIGHT!" Now the group had spread out a little triangulating fire on on the two runners. A basic military strategy in any attack, get in as many different angles of attack as possible, without having your own troops firing at each other... The angle was enough so that they couldn't all be hit by the same weapon in one burst.

With this in mind he didn't seem to concerned that he was heading right for the quicksand at a rather rapid pace.

****
Elsewhere, Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

As soon as Eytan rematerialized inside the holodeck, he brought his phaser up and quickly scanned his surroundings, making sure there were no hostiles. Satisfied, he relaxed a little and straightened his stance, and double-checked for the crewmen who were supposed to be trapped inside.

His gaze settled on the beach nearby, and the Brenari smirked. "Looks like I dressed appropriately after all," he quipped.

"It is highly illogical to assume that we will be spending time relaxing on that beach," The young ensign commented to her fellow security officer. Drawing her phaser, she brought it up slowly. Things were quiet, and that was never a good sign.

Raynor simply asked sarcastically... "You wish to face unknown amount of deadly holographic traps meant to kill you in your swim trunks?" Before pulling out his cell phone and began scanning for life signs outside himself and the two others around him. Scans would confirm the location of those they were sent to rescue, though it would not give any useful information on the terrain or obstacles they would have to face and conquer inbetween them and those they had been sent to rescue. This room was just one big holographic signature on the scanner.? But the scanner did tell him something else... the air wasn't being recycled in here.

"Just a joke, people," Eytan responded, trying not to roll his eyes. He should have known better than to try to make a joke around a Vulcan-raised woman and an Intel drone.

"Their in that direction, but there no telling how many traps are along the way... also watch your O2 intake... air isn't being recycled in here..." Raynor was used to breathing third rate air so it wouldn't be difficult for him. "I'm guessing we have about 20 minutes left in here max... and if we have to extert ourselves much less than that. Keep that in mind and move out." He said starting in the direction indicated after that little speech...

Apparently divine will was against him. He was in command of this little group as much as he hated to admit it, so he had to act like it. One of the many reasons he never wanted to be promoted... but regardless of that he had seniority so when he was in a room full of ensigns, he was the one with say...

****
Outside Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

Thral had just entered through his doggie door when a forcefield slammed down blocking the hole and incoming rush of air that followed.

Thral mumbled some Tellarite curse and proceeded into the holodeck.

Nara had started looking at wires again, punching things on the console, muttering things like "Damn O'shea" and other curses in Sakarian and Klingon.

As she kept working, the muttering grew more angry and more drawn out. Sentences instead of simple phrases. "She put a dampening field in here. What the hell was she intending to do in there?" Nara's mind went around that a moment. Why would someone try so hard to make it near impossible to beam anyone out? She knew they were in danger, but it became more and more aware it was O'Shea's intention. "Damn woman's the devil." Nara concentrated harder understanding that the full intention of this was likely murder. "She's trying to kill us."

She tried to push aside the pressure associated with this. She had to get them out. "I'll dampen your plans and your dampening field devil woman."

"Oh, did you say something?" Cynthia asked as she returned to the holodeck entrance. She hadn't found anyone else and wanted to see if there was anything that she could do to help.

Nara startled a bit hearing the voice. She almost forgot she wasn't alone. "Huh?"

"Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm Cynthia McTee, I called in the incident."

"Oh, uh..." Not able to think of anything to say and really needing to get to work, she muttered, "Ok." and looked back down to the wires, thinking she found something.

She looked around, and finding no one else she asked the Engineer. "What happened to the others?"

Still concentrated, she muttered, "Inside."

She nodded, hoping for the best. "Anything I can do to help?"

Nara growled, nearly ripping the wires, but controlled herself before looking up, her face flushed with frustration, "Yea. When O'shea gets here, you hand me the knife to kill her with." Then Nara went back to muttering Klingon and Sakarian curses at the wires. Then she asked, "You an engineer?"

"Operations..." McTee answered. "But I should know enough to lend you a hand."

Nara waved her over, "Just hold these wires while I look at the circuitry."

****
Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

Their plan had worked and one of the evil crew members had gotten stuck in the quicksand, leaving two of them to deal with. But still they ran.

Still running, Steven and 8-Ball were trying to evade the phaser wielding maniacs that were behind them. And then 8-Ball saw one of them infront of them, with his Phaser drawn.

"Get down" he called out.

Jonas ducked as the man threw something towards the oncoming holoclones, slowing him down.

"Thanks!" Jonas called out, veering their path towards the new group.

Raynor's left leg was considerably lighter now that he had thrown away that training weight... he had three heavy disposable band on him still, for range purposes... that took no oxygen to throw. "No problem... now any landmarks I need to be aware of before we do anything stupid?" Raynor asked as they hid behind a fairly big boulder as the holoclones regrouped...

The terrain around them had become fairly rocky, and there was a cliff with a few trees which seemed to offer a better view of the entire coast.

"Sorry, I don't know much about the program. Just picked it for the beach," Jonas replied.

"Thanks for the rescue. You wouldn't believe what has been going on here..." Steven said, hands on hips, his breathing taking its time to recover.

"The holodeck was trying to kill you... in a way that made it possible for you to resist rather than just having that sun in the distance go supernova and kill you quickly," Raynor said with simplicity. "Or just have the entire holodeck blow up. This has to be dumbest assassination attempt I've ever dealt with. WAY TOO DRAMATIC and by extension STUPID!"

Raynor already knew that statement was going at the very least going to buy a view strange glances.

8-ball offered the strange glance and decided not to say what she was thinking, for once... namely, that he was right, and that this wasn't exactly an unflawed assassination attempt... at the same time, it was her life that was overdramatically being threatened every five seconds, so calling it stupid also seemed a little insulting. 8-ball didn't want to yell at the rescuer, though, lest he decide to join sides with his Holo Twin, so instead she let Steven speak for both of them.

"This is O'Shea we are talking about. And from what I've seen, it looks like she wanted to make the recipient suffer." Steven paused. "And from what we could surmise, it was Captain M'Kantu she was after. Though I'm not sure why she couldn't just use the sensors to determine that he isn't here."

"G'day kids", Thral said as he and the private made their way to the rest of the group. He looked each over and nodded "Door's open now, we can get out if Nara gets that forcefield down."

"And its not even over, we need to get out here before we run out of O2 in about... " Raynor checked. "Three minutes... oh joy..." Sarcasm was ever present as he tried to figure out if it was worth it to use a phaser to vaporize himself to buy more time at the with the remaining time they had left...

"Guess we showed up just in time" Thral said with a sarcastic tone as he shouldered the rifle

"Yea, but now your here, O2 is going to drain even quicker... so unless you have any breathing equipment on you..." Raynor said sarcastically.

"That only happened AFTER I put the hole in the door ensign." Thral snarled at Zev. "I thought since you couldn't walk through walls you'd be a bit more grateful.

****
Outside Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

[15 minutes until life support failure]

Nara frowned. Beads of perspiration had formed on her crinkled forehead. She was frustrated. Damn frustrated. Every time she had a solution, something blocked her. Cussing continued. Growling continued. Just another frustrated engineer yelling at something. Nothing to cause alarm. No, the hole blasted in the door would do that.

****
Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

The splashing of the third hologram in the quicksand meant that he quickly went under the surface, leaving just two of them to deal with. And with the Intel guy's mentioning of the fast running out oxygen levels, using the phaser the three rescuers carried would be pointless.

Looking at their rescuers, Jonas had an idea. "Hey," He was looking at Hunter. "I know you don't like being reminded of your heritage, but you don't happen to know the Vulcan nerve pinch do you?"

"Uh, sorta. I know the basic idea behind it."

"I was wondering if it might work on them?" He indicated the two holograms with a nod.

"If I don't fuck it up, yeah, maybe," 8-ball said.

"Whatever we're going to do, let's make it fast!" Eytan said as he joined the group. He'd been busy trying not to get shot by his own holo-self (which was still kind of weirding him out), and had just joined them behind the boulder. "This place is starting to give me the creeps." He used the towel that was still tied around his waist to wipe the nervous sweat off the palms of his hands, then grasped his phaser again.

Raynor grabbed the phaser from Eytan's hand... "HELLO! AIR IS LIMITED IN HERE AND YOU WANT TO BURN IT UP QUICKER?!" he shouted at Eytan. You would think they never taught you how to use hand-to-hand combat against ranged weaponry at the academy... then he realised that was Ronin training. "We've got to win this thing without killing ourselves in the process don't fire back unless I give you the order!" He checked the scanner again. One minute twenty seconds... why was he surrounded by such incompetent people.

Eytan looked down at himself, then glanced up at Raynor. "Where the hell else am I supposed to put it, genius? And stop shouting, you're going to use up all the air." He turned away from Raynor and prepared to move. God, Intel people could be such pricks sometimes.

8-ball crept up behind the holograms with Eytan and Raynor. She thought about mouthing "On three" but it seemed so cliche, so in the end she just kind of shrugged at them, and then they attacked. She had always wanted to do the whole Vulcan neck pinch thing. Maybe it would even work.

Surprisingly, it did. She glanced to see how the other guys were doing.

Zev had quickly managed disarmed the remaining holo-officer, which was of T'Rei and pointed her own holographic phaser at her, hoping that because it was holographic it wouldn't burn up any air, but as he pushed the trigger, it emitted and electric shock to his hand, disabling it. Raynor was taking a few seconds to recover and looked over to what Eytan was doing...

At that moment, Eytan was wrestling with his holo-clone, who clearly wanted to vaporize him with the phaser rifle in its hands. The towel-clad, flesh-and-blood Eytan finally managed to yank the rifle out of his counterpart's hands and he smashed the butt of it into the hologram's jaw, dropping it. He tossed the holographic rifle away and moved to join his comrades. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

****
Outside Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

[15 seconds until life support failiure]

Time for wondering if her decisions were correct had gone long ago. Now she was just trying to get this done in any way possible. She was worried about the people inside, knowing the longer she took, the more danger they were in. She grabbed a handful of wires and with a grunt, yanked as hard as she could. She looked over into the hole in the door, hitting her commbadge, "Lt. Roswell to Ensign Eytan." She waited a moment, ready to call each by name.

****
Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

"I'm not sure if he's lost consciousness yet or not... but thanks for coming 2 seconds late," Raynor coughed sarcastically over the comm. They had just begun to literally hold their breathe. Breathable O2 levels had been depleted and most of the party had just been on the verge of losing conscious, and then death.

"I'm--cough--not unco-conscious," Eytan replied a moment later, after tapping his combadge, which he'd stuck to the left leg of his trunks. "Well...okay, I might have blacked out for a second or two," he admitted a second later. "Anyway, I'm still here..."

"Still here...I've been through worse" Thral managed to get that out between coughing fits over the comm.

"The only thing worse than a near death experience would be death, and you look pretty alive to me..." Raynor commented, smiling.

[Ok, well, there's a hole in this door made especially for you guys. Might wanna use it.]

****
Outside Holodeck 3, Deck 11
****

Eytan followed them out of the doggie door, and took a moment to catch his breath. It felt good to be out of that damned holodeck. After making sure everyone else was, in fact, okay, he smiled at them all. "I guess I'd better go get dressed before someone else gets themselves into trouble." He gave the group a wave and walked off, headed for the pool again.

As Jonas emerged from the doggie door, the last, but for Thral, to do so, he saw that they were all as relieved that it was over as he was.

"Thanks!" He said to the women in the mustard colored uniforms, not knowing who they were.

Nara gave a smile of relief to them all, "I suggest you all get to sickbay while I clean this up."

"Hey, that was my hole kids." Thral said as he emerged all the well for wear. It would be awhile before he went back to the holodeck after this experience.

"And many thanks to you for providing it, Sergeant Major. I'm not sure what we would have done without you, all of you." Steven looked around the tired and exhausted crew. The pain and suffering seemed etched on their faces, and he hoped that this was the last thing that O'Shea had planned for the ship. Though deep down, he knew it wasn't likely.

Looking at 8-Ball, as she was heading off, "Maybe next time, I'll recommend we head to Ten Forward for a drink instead."

He was rewarded with a wry smile.

"I'm thinking... yeaaah."

off: Slight backpost

"What were you thinking?"

Lieutenant Branwen London
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Samantha Widdlestein (APC)
Sara-Jayne Agathon (PCC)

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

Branwen was doing paperwork waiting for Kimberley and Sara-Jayne to arrive. She was also trying to stay calm, shouting at Samantha earlier had not been a good idea. So far she had stayed very calm towards patients. Maybe it was because she didn't see the girl as a patient, but as a pupil.

Meanwhile, Sam was amusing herself by trying to work a psychotic marine counselor into her epic tale of romance and ritual sacrifice on the high sea. So far she wasn't getting anywhere with it, with the exception of a horrific death scene for the character, but it was something to pass the time.

"We all here then?" Kimberly asked as she walked in, propelling Sara-Jayne to a free chair with a gently nudge she put a PADD on Branwen's desk, "here's the data on their little excursion from my shuttle, their beam down point, time on surface and location of beam up," she said as she dropped into a seat, "looks like they did a little wandering for a few hours." she added scathingly, looking at the two of them.

Branwen quickly looked over the info and then at the two girls. "What the hell were you thinking!"

"Mayhem and destruction?" Samantha asked and then shrugged at the murderous look that Branwen gave her. "Well, you did ask."

"Samantha!" Branwen said in a warning tone.

Looking somewhat guiltily at Kimberly Sara-Jayne shrugged after a moment, "We were curious, we just wanted to have a look around," deciding that this was probably the least inflammatory thing she could say she shrugged again, "we didn't, erm, well." trailing off the sentence she shut up.

"Like the pretty lady said, Bran, we just wandered around for a few hours." Samantha replied. "We're fine, nothing happened."

"You were very lucky. Do you have any idea what could have happened! Any idea what kind of people were down on that planet. Nobody knew you had gone. If they had captured you, it might have taken days before you were rescued. And you don't even seem to care!" Branwen exclaimed heatedly.

"Nothing? A full scale civil war broke out while two you were down there!" Kimberly snapped at the same time, "You were lucky to be able to beam back up! Just what did you get up to down there?"

Samantha looked at the other girl. As much as she hated to admit it, she hadn't been the leader for this little adventure, so she would defer to what the other girl decided to tell them. But Bran and Burton were getting on her nerves so she cheerfully answered that they had performed ritual killings and vasectomies.

Catching the look Sam sent her way Sara-Jayne used the brief moment of confusion caused by the ritual killings and vasectomies to form a reply, realizing whatever she said she was certain to get in trouble anyway she figured she might as well get it done with, "I was bored, okay," she announced suddenly, "School was boring, and I figured I'd do something different and more interesting. Sam was sat next to me looking almost as bored so I asked her if she'd like to join me, it was my idea, so don't give her a hard time, she just came along for the ride," shrugging, "you guys act like it was such a big deal, we went down, spoke to a few people, wandered around for a while," glossing over ''exactly' what they'd gotten up to, she figured what they wouldn't be able to find out they needn't worry about, "came back, what's the big deal, everything was fine!"

Almost speechless Kimberly looked at Sara in what could almost be a state of shock, up until now she had seemed so responsible careful and considerate, this was a complete switch from the girl she had thought she was getting to know. "You could've been killed!" she got out after a moment, sounding horrified at the thought.

"Or worse." Branwen said thinking back on what had happened to her.

"But we weren't." Sam shrugged.

"This time. And I am going to make sure there will be no next time." Bran said through clenched teeth.

"What," Samantha said dryly, "Is it to be the wire hanger again?"

"You keep quiet young lady." Bran said out of patience. "Kimberly and I will discuss this and we will get back to you really soon."

Samantha looked at Sara-Jayne, who shrugged.

"Okay, Branwen." She said sweetly.

"The Party's Over"

Ensign Robert Mathieson
Medical Officer

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

**** Main Sickbay, Deck 12 ****

Steven trepidly stepped across the threshold into the medical bay. The place was jam packed, with doctors and nurses scurrying about doing what they did best; help people with their various ailments.

He'd have preferred to not to have to come here, a bit of chow and a little sack time was all he really wanted, but the Security officer had been quite adamant in his visiting the Medical professionals for a checkup. It seemed after surviving a fire, vicious animals, and holographic warriors, that they believed that he needed a checkup. If it hadn't been for the security guard who had basically dragged him here, he would have headed back to the barracks in a heartbeat. But now that he was here, Steven figured he could give them a few minutes of his time.

Looking around, Steven noticed that each biobed had an occupant, some lying down, some sitting on the edge of the bed, some just resting against the bed. A couple seemed to have burns on their arms and necks, probably from a plasma conduit rupture or some other event related to the Engineering department. Another seemed to be clutching his abdomen in quite severe pain. Figuring that a few scrapes and cuts and a reddish welt near his ribcage could wait, he moved over to a vacant area and awaited a free medical professional.

He didn't have to wait long.

Mathieson was finishing grafting new skin to the back of an enginner, and was using a Trilaser Connector to connect the patient's nerves to the new tissue musing that as far as medicine had advanced over the centuries, serious burns were often some of the most painful and serious injuries a physician sees. Blissfully, the engineer was sedated and would wake with only a mild itch to remind him of his wounds, but the pain he had endured on the way to sickbay had been more than intense.

Completing the procedure and giving postop instructions to one of the nurses, he then turned to welcome the latest entry to a very busy Sickbay. "'Allo lad. Wot brings yer to me parlor?"

"Hi, I'm Steven Jonas, and I was ordered here for a checkup. Seems my adventures in the holodeck require me to get this looked at." He indicated the welt that was semi-visible under the edge of the torn shirt he was wearing.

The old physician grunted. "Let me guess - the FUBAR on Holodeck Three, Deck Eleven?"

"Oh, you heard about it? News travels fast around here it seems." He responded. "Some of these guys look like they could use your help more than I." Steven nodded towards the patients nearby.

Another grunt. "Nah - all's good, lad. The primary work's done - the Physician's Mates n' Nurses r' a good bunch - when they're not skacking Kelly!" A tall physician's mate peered back from the wound Mathieson had just finished treating and grinned. "Sure Bob, whatever you say."

"So, where do you want me?" Steven asked. He was ready to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sickbay always freaked him out.

The balding doctor wiped his bald pate and looked at the Marine. "Well, seein' as yer walkin' on yer own juice, questions for starts. Any pain, dizzyness, shortness of breath - the obvious stuff?"

"No dizzyness. I do feel like I've been hit by a starfighter though, and it does ache when I breathe deeply, I think this is the cause." Steven raised his shirt and showed off the bruise that had developed after his runin with the holographic copy of Raynor.

"Right - hop up on the bed to the left there, take yer shirt off, and we'll take a look at that welt and wot's else's tickin'". Mathieson then went to retrieve his medi-scanner for the checkup.

Steven nodded, and pulled off his shirt. The shirt, being torn, with scorch marks over it and covered with both his blood and a little of the Lion's, was now worthless and he would likely need to get a new one from the Supply office. Screwing it up into a ball and throwing it to the floor, he jumped up onto the one spare bed and awaited the doctor.

The short physician returned and started scanning Jonas to perform his diagnosis. He concentrated on the haand-held unit and peered periodically at the biobed's readout to confirm the data he observed. Finally, he put the scanner away and probed gently with his hands and fingers. Feeling the marine wince, Mathieson confirmed his suspicions. "Two cracked ribs and some minor burn damage to the upper epidermis - nothin' to lose sleep over. Th' hair'll itch like mad when it grows back though." His eyes narrowed as he examined the Marine's back, seeing dozens of faded scars. Mathieson lowered his voice as he saw the extent of the old injuries. "What'all this then, lad? Marines get bashed up from time t' time, but this lot's a good deal beyond th' average 'slap and tickle', if ye catch me drift."

Steven had a pretty good idea that the Doc could tell what they were from, and so he just shrugged. "It's just a simple reminder from the War for me, of the darker days of my past."

"Cor, guv. I saw some o' this on DS9 durin' the war with th' Dominion. Don't kid a kidder, lad" Mathieson said, looking Jonas in the eye. "They're old, but they're friggin' deep as you well know - and there's lots of 'em. Any lingering pain? No interference with muscle movement and the like?"

Steven shook his head. "Not normally, but every once in a while I get a feeling like one or two of them have opened up again, but nothing painful. They remind me not to take my enemies lightly. And if they had caused any issues with my movement, I would have had them removed long ago."

Mathieson scanned over the scar tissue once more. "'S no problems to take 'em off now if ye'd like. Twenty minutes and yer back'll be smoother than a baby's bum."

"I'd prefer to keep them. Though the ribs are starting to throb slightly."

Distracted by the scarring on the Marine's back, the doctor had almost forgotten about the cracked ribs. "Sorry, lad. I'll get on it right now. Lie down an' relax - the procedure's painless." He hauled one of Sickbay's Anabolic Protoplasers out from the sterile equipment locker, calibrated the unit, then hooked it on the biobed's edge. Focusing the phase-modulated lasers on Jonas' ribs, the Marine began to feel the tissue warm and the pain subside.

"So you were stationed at DS9 huh? I never got to see the station first hand, my unit was on the front line being deployed as boarding parties against several Cardassian and Jem'Hadar attack ships. It was there that events conspired to give me these." He pointed towards his back.

Mathieson nodded, not taking his eyes from the Protoplasers display screen. "DS9's not exactly a nice place to visit, an' I'd certainly not advise livin' there - especially durin' the war. 'Till that point I thought the Cardassian-Federation war was bad, but the Dominion was worse - far worse. Especially the Jem'Hadar. Had quite the trip back with th' blighters back on Galaxy, I can tell you."

The Protoplaser continued to hum and Jonas' pain continued to diminish. "Conspiring events, eh? Lad - those kind of scars aren't the kind you get on boarding parties. They're the kind you get when boarding parties go seriously up shit creek without a fekkin' paddle. Not goin' t prod if you don' want me to, but are all those scars healed? An' I don't mean the ones on yer back."

Steven sighed. "It was one hell of a fucked up war and I doubt I will ever be over it." He marvelled at how much the pain from the broken ribs had dissipated. "Up shit creek without a paddle is how I would describe it too. Simple board and disable, that's all it was supposed to be, but everything went wrong. Starting with the Transporter chief putting us smack dab in the middle of a roomful of the buggers. After the disasterous battle, I got to spend a little time with some colleagues of those brutes we have down below. On some shithole of a planet. For two weeks. Then I managed to escape and all I have to show are these scars and a nice shiny little award for my dress uniform."

Still concentrating on the Marine's knitting ribs, the doctor grunted. "'Been a while since I was a Marine, but I believe the term "clusterfuck" still crops up - sounds like you waded into a nice one." He shut the Protoplaser off with a sharp click, and took a look at the pink-red skin on Jonas' ribcage. The scanners showed that the ribs had been healed, and in examining the epidermis he saw that the burn trauma had healed satisfactorily as well. Mathieson grunted "Huh. 'Think we're done 'ere, lad. Like I said, a couple of days of itchin' but otherwise yer patched enough for full duty."

"So what made you want to join the Galaxy?"

A broad grin split Mathieson's usually stony expression. "Me? Last kick at th' can, lad. In almost thirty years in th' fleet me mouth's finally got the best o' me - told a politician exactly what I thought o' his administration. Still, no complaints - busted down to Ensign removes me from most o' the berkin' paperwork anyways. Allows me to keep focused on th' real work o' patchin' you Jarheads up when ye need it." He squitned as he thought of his age and experiences. "Christ, I know I'm old, but they still call you chaps 'jarheads' these days?"

Steven nodded. "Amoung other names."

"Good!", Mathieson chimed. "At least yer attendin' physician's not gone senile! Not yet, at least."

"No, not yet." He smiled. "Thanks for the fixup doc. I owe you one."

"Any time, lad. Any time" the doctor replied, putting the Protoplaser back to it's cabinet. With a wink, he added "Jus' don't make a habit of gettin' burned an' bashed about too much."

Reaching down, Jonas picked up his shirt and put it on. Tattered and torn, there wasn't much value in wearing it, but he decided to anyway. Nodding his thanks again, Steven headed for the door.

Watching the young Marine leave sickbay, Mathieson pondered the man's wounds from the war. ~Too feckin' many and too feckin' deep fer a man of any age~ he mused. The many scars Lieutenant Steven Jonas kept as reminders of his would change in nature as he aged - scars fade, but they also stretch and distort. The same would be true of the ones the Marine bore in his soul as time changed those memories - if they ever do.

Too feckin' many..too feckin' many....

"The Slavers" Part I

Corporal Falkor Vox
Lieutenant JG Nieca Rey'ol

THE PRESENT: STARDATE 60407.05, 29 MAY 2383

IHV THUNDER OF VICTORY: COMMAND QUARTERS

Qasar'Mereth Ja'Sh'Kal slammed down her three fists, causing the plate of Jedg to tip precariously on the table's edge.

"Enough deception Gral!" she yelled at the hologram, green spittle flying from her beaked maw. "My crew and I have played enough games, carrying N'Fth'Nor's prizes throughout almost every section of Imperial Space. We tire of the deception, and our ship tires of the constant slip-jumps. She is not the Icon of Glory, you are aware?"

The Gral's hologram said nothing, his eye-stalks pulled close together, quietly studying the raging commander of the IHV Thunder of Victory. "I am aware of your vessel's...shortcomings, Qasar Kal. I am also aware that these orders come directly from the queen's war council. You orders are quite clear--"

"Our orders are shoj!" she growled back. "Are you aware how close we are to Slaver space? Twice now we've had dealings with the local factions, both the Lyran and the Kzinti," she waved her central hand about, accentuating the encounters.

"And," his voice betrayed his weariness with the sniveling gritch, "Twice now, you've dispatched both with your superior weaponry."

Barely, she thought to herself. Although Kzinti technology was years behind her fleet's, they had still proved to be a formidable, highly-agile enemy. No doubt, their reinforcements would arrive in the sector soon, in order to determine why the destroyed battle cruiser had not reported in. With any luck, and by the blessing of the Nerru gods, the Thunder of Victory would have her slip-drive repaired and be long gone by then. Most likely, the Kzinti would conclude that their ship had, once again, been destroyed by their blood-enemies, the neighboring Lyran Star Empire.

Slowly, she sat back down into her seat, pushing the plate of food back from its precarious perch. "If I am to continue these...evasions, I demand an answer: what is the importance of these Starfleet beasts?"

The holo-figure sighed audibly, one of his hands rubbed at a spot just behind his beak. "Qasar, we have been over this before, and this will be the last time I restate myself. Your clearance is not sufficient for that information. You will continue along your route, making sure that no one follows you. We cannot risk them discovering the location of the project." He paused on the monitor, clearly turning an idea over in his mind.

Kal took the opportunity to catch him off guard. "And...?"

"And," he growled as he spoke, clearly displeased with what he knew he had to do to placate her whining, "once you finish this mission, the Queen's War Council will look more...favorably upon your situation. The Thunder of Victory is due for retirement..."

Is he joking me? It couldn't be true, could it? A new ship? A larger crew. Oh, to have a more prestigious command. The things she could do, what would be possible! If nothing else, her clan-status would be elevated, perhaps enough to even allow her another mate...

"Perform well, Kal. Do not lose the Gral's precious cargo. You will be rewarded for your efforts, of that I assure you. The Light of Vindication waits, even now. It is only two more cycles until it is ready for slip-drive testing..." his beak chattered in a slight chuckle. He was perfectly aware that he was stringing her along.

And so, too, was she aware of his play. But, the Vindication! Even larger than N'Fth'Nor's Hammer of Progress. Finally, she'd be able to show-up that jak'sas. She couldn't stand him; the only reason he had been allowed another command after the failure at Rel'Kessan (and the loss of the Ascendant Justice, no less), was because of his clan's close ties to the War Council.

She made up her mind. "For the Glory of the Empire."

"And the life of the Queen," the Gral echoed, his hologram blinking out.

Quickly, she touched the light controls on her pad to open another channel. She had to inform her clan of the Nerru's goodwill.

BOOM!

An immense shock knocked her off her tripodal legs and sent items flying through the room and crashing to the floor. As the second shockwave hit, the plate of Jedg overturned and fell on her shoulder, staining her uniform and skin with it's bright green blood.

"Qasar to the command level, Code First! Qasar to the command level, Code First!" the page of one of her command officers--Gi'A'Bef, by his voice--echoed through the ship-wide intercom.

Pulling herself up, she steadied her legs. Once standing, she pressed the comm-link attached to her center wrist. "Report, First!" She barked, even as her powerful legs propelled her out of her quarters and into the main hallway that lead directly to the command level.

"My Lady," he replied, "It's the Kzinti! The Longclaw--"

The rest of his reply was cut off by another explosion, this one more violent then the previous two. If Bef had identified the target correctly, they would have quite a fight, the Longclaw was the Kzin Hegemony's most powerful warship, equal in firepower to the Starfleet's mighty Galaxy-class cruiser. Something, Kal realized, the outmoded Victory was not prepared to fight. Especially with the slip-drive damaged from the last encounter. Hiding her damaged ship in the Noclus Cloud had been a foolish, but necessary, mistake. It was too obvious, though, only a half-parsec away from where they had destroyed the Kzin Saberkeep.

"Defensive shell, First!" she barked as she strode onto the command platform. All around her, below her circular platform, the Victory's crew raced to prepare defensive and offensive countermeasures. "Target their primary reactor with the protobeam, lock solution, and await my command!" she ordered her Second, Weapons Officer O'Kj'Zek.

Seconds later, Zek nodded: the Longclaw was targeted.

Kal gripped the railing, steeling herself for yet another victory, a victory that would surely guarantee her command of the Vindication. But before she could issue the order to strike, an strange blue-white glow began to envelope her bridge. In seconds, the Victory was shaking like a Sherv beast in its final death throes.

Kal didn't even have time to feel the dread rise as Bef bellowed in rage, "Slavers!"

[BACKPOST] - Just before arriving at ch'Rihan, and before Curran's conversations with Karyn Dallas. Occurs immediately after "Patterns of Force".

"That Which is Not Seen"

Kylar Curran
Chief Liaison Officer

Tarin Iniara
Chief Operations Officer

After he'd seen the security brute on his way out of the Lounges, he'd turned his attention to locating the Operations Chief to get some answers.

Curran found the invalid exactly where he had expected to-- on the floor. Taking a deep breath to calm his inner turmoil at the fiasco he'd been witness to in the absolute embarrassment of a handle on ensuring a protective custodial arrangement for Goran'Agar and his colonists, he purposefully strode in the direction of the fallen female, weaving through the now resettling pacifists so as to avoid stepping on what remaining possessions attributed to them.

"...you'll be fine," he heard her telling a crying child. Upon closer inspection, she seemed to be holding the child's hand. Someone who was probably the child's mother had knelt down next to them, a worried expression on her face.

Still with her back to Curran, Iniara addressed the woman. "He'll have some tenderness and bruising in the hand for a day or two, but otherwise he should be fine. I wouldn't worry too much about it." She did her best to smile reassuringly.

He didn't understand the need to calm a child when they had no proper reasoning ability or impact on the delegatory aspect of their guests, but in not knowing the female Jem'Hadar and her relations amongst those still on the deck, he forced himself to wait out the exasperation of what he assumed was a maternal instinct most females in every species he encountered seemed to harbor. Yet another weakness in allowing emotion to over-compensate other shortcomings.

"Lieutenant Tarin? It is imperative we have a certain discussion about our guests." He crossed his arms, looking down on her with a clinical, yet disproving gaze. His ice-blue eyes delivered an equally penetrating stare, affecting a repose of impatience. "The child can be better tended to by its mother."

"Hello, Legate," Iniara replied evenly, glancing over her shoulder in his general direction. Turning back to the pair she patted the child's hand then released him to his mother, watching as they moved away into the crowd. Then, after a pause, she continued. "I take it the problem has been contained."

"One of them has." He stopped to look back towards the entrance Krieghoff has exited to the out corridors through. "Unless you allow it to return." Unhooking his arms, a PADD slid out from under one tricep, where he keyed in several items, passing it to the woman who still had not risen from her squat. "Lieutenant Krieghoff is not to be on rotation amongst the Jem'Hadar colonists until he has been certified in absorbing the new intelligence on our visitors. He shot Goran'Agar needlessly."

"I see," she replied, scanning the text on the PADD. She'd have no problem with that; Krieghoff's mere presence creeped her out, distracted her, made it that much harder for her to do her job. Not that she'd ever admit that to the Kelvan; he'd probably sneer at her again or call her weak.

Returning the PADD to Curran she shifted her weight, then slowly forced herself into a standing position. "And what may I ask is the other problem?"

"The other problem is your jurisdiction." He swept his left arm out amongst the several dozen colonists assembled about the lounge. "If you had arranged to have the Jem'Hadar settled into their berths in the Cargo Bays and assigned staterooms, Goran'Agar would not have been a target of the rogue Jem'Hadar still on this ship. Your security protocols are sorely lax, dangerous, and ignorant of the lives we have been charged with. That child would not have needed to be tended to by you or anyone else had they been out of danger."

"Agreed. However, my orders were to assign them here until a proper census could be taken. Until we had more than just the evacuees' names and transporter logs on file, it was determined that housing them in one central location would make them easier to track and control. Now that we have that information recorded," she continued, beginning to make her way around the room towards the nearest turbolift, "we can begin to parcel out the groups to their new homes. As soon as the additional security personnel arrive, that is. Come with me. I have something to show you."

Curran narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the female. He hardly trusted any of the humanoid crew on this ship, and women even less. They exuded manipulation for no other reason than it seemed to be a source of enjoyment for them.

"Can you not just explain it to me here?" His watery eyes encompassed the perimeter from one length to the other. Security was back in place, the Jem'Hadar had gone back to their routines, the bodies gone. It was as if the actions on Goran'Agar's life had never occurred. Curran could only hope the Jem'Hadar leader felt the same way from a historical note. He couldn't see anything around him of an important nature enough for him to depart the area on a whim of a female who may for all intents and purposes be attempting to seduce and strangle him in a dark corner.

"I would prefer not to," Iniara replied, relaxing somewhat now that Curran's attention was directed elsewhere. She would have preferred to be rid of the Kelvan entirely; his thought patterns were just as unsettling to her as Kreighoff's. But, she had been assigned to work with him, and orders were orders. "There is nothing wrong with what you can see, Legate," she continued in a lower voice, beginning to tap on her PADD again. "What you can't see should be your concern."

That got his attention. Softening his gaze imperceptibly, he returned his focus to the aloof female. Her odd phrasing of a key Kelvan philosophy in that one should always be aware that the unknown is the enemy and deserves more attention than the known made him keenly curious as to what it was she wanted to show him. He nodded minutely, pushing all else to a secondary level of awareness while his mind raced with the possibilities and heightened senses of suspicion, he decided this one deserved more than he had initially was willing to offer her.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant. You have my unwarranted attention." He floated one hand out in the Terran gesture of 'You first'.

OPEN FIST

"Burning Bridges" - Part I

Appearances: Lots of People

Orbital Docking Facility 4
Over Ki Baratan, ch'Rihan

"It would be better if they left."

"Why? Are you afraid of progress?"

The khre'Uhlan who tapped his fingers on the terminal control sighed. He and the one other uhlan were stationed at the main sensor control grid, where nothing ever happened, even if today's government had decided that ch'Rihan was in imminent danger of invasion. Nevermind that it was general consensus that the likely fall of the Rihannsu Empire would be from within rather than without.

"Not at all. I fear for our cultural identity. Progress takes time, and should be established on our own terms, not under the inscrutable eye of the Federation." He shifted a game piece on the board.

"I agree with you on that point, but I don't see how the government can move forward with reforms if we've got factions at every turn blocking them. Everyone has an agenda. The Federation will be more of a watchdog than anything else." She trapped his game piece.

"And what happens when we choose a path that the Federation doesn't agree with? Do you honestly think they'll take their warship out of orbit amicably?" He chuckled softly and shook his head. "You've a lot to learn."

Before the khre'Uhlan could respond in kind in their fourth game of Trayatik, a warning audible on the sensor terminal broke their conversation.

Their game ignored, both Romulan soldiers fell into protocol, and ran their sensor scans. The Galaxy had just come out of the far side of the planet, and their orders were to cast intensive scans over the ship. Word had come down that the Federation ship was hiding something from them, and the RNI wanted to know what that was.

****

USS Galaxy
Main Bridge

"Sir, we're being scanned." It was Evening Watch on the Galaxy, as upon arriving at Ki Baratan, the ship's rotation had been adjusted to the planet's capital below. Daywatch and Overnight Watch had been given the shifts off.

Commander Kol marched across the upper ramp to stand behind the Tactical Officer on duty - Lieutenant Bosco, fresh up from duty on the Battle Bridge, who had reported the scan. Kol had sent eh shifty Tactical Chief on a Tactical and Intel analysis of the Romulan Fleet. He and the Dobryin woman would learn to work together even if only one came out of the offices alive. Then it would settled. Properly.

"Were we informed of the intention?" He doubted it, knowing Romulans.

"No, sir." A visual of the security logs between the Galaxy and the Romulan communications node showed no warning.

"Where is it coming from?"

"From what I can determine," Bosco triangulated the beams, and overlaid them on a terminal console screen between the two of them. "It must be an orbital station, though with all the traffic over ch'Rihan, it's hard to get a lock." Since Henderson's authorization of open visitation to the Romulan homeworld, the crew had begun to descend in rotation to the planet through a myriad of options; shuttlecraft, runabouts, private craft, transporters. All of them had to go through an orbital hub checkpoint before descending to the planet, which threw the sensor network into disarray.

"I could narrow the sensor field, and increase the resolution throughput with direct scanning, sir." Bosco took the initiative to start the procedure, anticipating the Klingon's next order. He knew a lot of crew tended to allow themselves to be intimidated by the XO, which in turn made them hesitate. By watching the interactions, he understood that Kol enjoyed being intimidating, but demanded the crew to react instantaneously, or before he could implement an order. Bosco's instincts were good in this regard, but had anticipated the wrong action.

"No. They would take the scans as an insult." Kol snorted derisively. Of all the places to find himself assigned, the Romulan homeworld was not one he would have chosen. He would rather conquer the petaQ and be done with it. "Establish contact with the station. I want to know why they're scanning us now, when there had been plenty of opportunity when we arrived."

****

Orbital Docking Facility 4
Over Ki Baratan, ch'Rihan

"Sir, the Galaxy is hailing us."

khre'Uhlan Raytak nodded, while singularly poring over the reports the scans were revealing. So far, nothing of any import had come up. At least, nothing revealing to the lowly uhlans. Rihannsu Naval Intelligence and the Tal Shiar may have something to say about it.

"Inform them we are performing a routine random scan of their ship. Tell them it has to do with initiated security protocol. They do not need to know the reasons why." He dipped his eyes back into the blue-green glow of a sensor node. "We're at fourteen percent complete... By Gal Gath'thong! Get central command!" He waved a hand anxiously. "We've been tricked!"

****

USS Galaxy
Main Bridge

Both Kol and Bosco waited over the commpanel until a response was acknowledged.

"This is taking too long! They're planning something." The urge to raise shields itched at him.

Bosco nodded in agreement. "They're using delay tactics, sir."

When the response finally did arrive, it left nothing but suspicious imprints on both of them. When they demanded to know the reasons why, they were met with static. Communications had been severed.

***

Ch'Rihan
Planetary Defense Hub

"You are positive? Transmit your findings." On ch'Rihan, located underground somewhere within range of the capital city, the central hub of the planet's military and defensive network received the compressed package burst of the detailed scans of the USS Galaxy.

None of this had been sanctioned by the current government, of course, being that it had been weakened in the wake of Praetor Shinzon's clumsy attempts at galactic domination. Tal`Aura's ineptness had further divided the government, splintering it at the seams to become the embarrassment it was today. Equal representation of the Tal Shiar, a group of former senators, the Romulan Military represented by Donatra, the Tal Shiar, and the Unificationists.

And so, there were other factions, working from within while waiting for the current government to turn on itself. These new factions gathered loyalists through whatever means possible. Though Riov Jelok swore to one of the splinter groups in the current government, his real loyalties lay with himself, and those he was gathering around him.

When the data packet arrived, his suspicions grew ten-fold, and wheels began to turn in how to use this to his advantage. While brewing over the possibilities, he brought the findings to the senior officer of the hub, Enriov Tagva.

***

Ki Baratan
National Institute of Science

[Minster, we need assistance. We're severely undermanned here, and with the Klingons-]

"The Klingons? When did the Klingons arrive?" The tautness in the voice of the Science Minister could be heard quite clearly.

[They beamed down just this morning, and they're not doing anything to protect us. They've already segregated out the Remans into their own campsite, leaving us defenseless!]

"Have you had any casualties?"

[No one has been killed yet, but dozens of injured. The sabotaging *has* to be the fault of the Klingons, and now they're here to gloat now that they have numbers in their favor. The colonists are mostly farmfolk, with no real military experience, except amongst the men, but no one expected to fight on a desolate, burned out planet. Not living beings anyways, just the environment]

Shafar held his head in his hands. The Klingons were well known for claiming planets not their own, and fighting to a man to keep a strangehold just to spite the legitimate 'owners'. Even so, this was no ordinary planet. This was Cheron. They could not lose this planet at *any* cost. It served no strategic value with exception to the Federation, but the sentimental and moral cost of losing it would be exponential.

[Send the Federation ship, Minister. They have an alliance with the Klingons, and this planet is just as important]

"And just as inclined to join the Klingons in forcing us off the planet, Leto. Cheron is as much a historical planet of significance to them as it of strategic value. It's only ten light years from their border. I can safely say they have factions of their own that would relish a listening post on Cheron."

[Then send Warbirds. Please, Minister. We've little choice remaining to us, other than leaving]

"No! You will not leave under any circumstances. I'll figure something out and get back to you within the day. Shafar out."

"Burning Bridges" - Part II

Appearances:
Lots of People

***

War Room
Planetary Defense Hub
Ch'Rihan

"Has this been confirmed?" Enriov Tagva, an older Rihannsu of established house, shook the document at Jelok fiercely, his knuckles white as his lips, which had pursed with anger.

All around them, the war room had increased in activity. Sensor units were up and running, coordinating data, Tactical stations were preparing and running simulations on scenarios. Intelligence was cross-referencing information from across the planet. Listening stations were constantly feeding updates through to the operations center.

"Aye, Enriov, it has. Through four independent sources. We managed to obtain information from a contact in the Federation that confirmed their cargo."

Tagva shook his head and crumpled the paper in his hands. He preferred the older style of presentation of information, as he was paranoid of electronic surveillance.

"We can't allow this. Jem`Hadar soldiers in an alliance with the Federation... The fact that they attempted to hide them away from the rest of the crew to avoid general detection is proof of their duplicity. I need to inform the senate. If any of those soldiers come down shrouded, it will be anarchy if they destroy the government. We're just starting to stabilize; another Shinzon trick will break the Rihannsu spirit for good. We will not be conquered by these dha'rudh!"

***

Ki Baratan
National Institute of Science Ch'Rihan

Shafar rubbed his eyes with the forefinger and thumb of one hand.

"Praetor, do you understand the implications if we lose Cheron?"

It was a stroke of luck that Shafar had been able to contact Praetor Hitan on subspace. The Senate had been in session for some time, discussing the merits and downfalls of the Federation presence, and still they had not come to a consensus on how to patrol the Federation presence on the planet. Even Spock's unificationists were not in complete agreement. Some felt the Starfleet presence would overbear the peaceful co-existence Spock and his clan had established with the government now that it had lost its military clout. They felt that a Federation ship carrying the weight of the Council would come into a direct conflict with the intentions of the groups, and shift the precarious balance of power.

And so, when Shafar had requested assistance from the Senate, he was met with just as much of a stalemate. Some were happy to send the Federation on their way, while others argued that it gave them leverage at Cheron, as Shafar had suggested to Director Leto earlier. Others refused to send Warbirds, as it would reduce planetary defenses against the Starfleet ship.

And so they argued like that for quite some time.

***

Tactical Station 1
Planetary Defense Hub
Manned by Arrain Yusef

Arrain Yusef had been in the privileged position of being within earshot of the Enriov and his senior staff, arguing over embargoes and sanctions. Apparently, they had not been successful in getting through to the senate, their concerns falling on deaf ears. None of those they had contacted were of a faction that was allied with the military in any way, so they didn't really care. Only promises to pass on the information. They'd had enough of the paranoia of military and Tal Shiar decrying End of the World proclamations.

Yusef shook his head. Some things would never change, and bureaucracy was one of them. The Cardassians had it right the first time, with their military in control, and he couldn't wait until ch'Rihan got the same thing, the utter collapse of the Cardassian government notwithstanding.

So, when he overheard the Enriov and his staff arguing over options since no one was replying to them at the Senate level, he made an executive decision when no one else would.

Yusef enabled the planetary passive defense network. He would not allow his people to die or be conquered because of political squabbling.

***

Throughout the entire planet - surface, space, and underground - defensive arrays came online. The orbital defense platforms engaged their electro-magnetic nets to envelop the entire planet from above, instantly disabling any non-singularity drive propulsion systems, impulse engines, and thrusters not encoded with a Rihannsu signature. Transporter dampening fields were enabled over key locations on the planet's surface and underground, preventing any and all transport from or to those locations.

Anything caught in the net or fields were instantly redirected to remote locations for pickup by Rihannsu MP's at a later time.

***

Rihannsu Senate Chambers
Main Lobby

Located only a scant three meters in front of the immense wings that formed the Rihannsu logo at the entrance to the chambers, the elongated security desk that included three Rihannsu encompassed the entire opening, with only a small entrance that separated the desk in two. Each side of the opening contained detectors, designed to pinpoint and deactivate anything suspicious.

The lobby though, was devoid of any but the three Rihannsu, and guards posted along each column that divided the grand sky windows that peered out on the city.

Those three at the desk, usually working at a steady pace, were now overburdened with calls. Some were coming from the Planetary Defenses, others from inquisitors, journalists, beggars.

Then, the terminals went silent. The three, coordinating without words amongst themselves, investigated. One activated a newsfeed, the officially designated government-sanctioned broadcast network, and quickly discovered that the planet was in disarray after the passive defense network had been activated, downing non-Rihannsu craft and transported personnel all over.

Quickly, one of the secretaries gathered the pertinent information on broadcast recordings and projected impact points then hand-delivering them to the Senate.

***

Tactical Station 1
Planetary Defense Hub
Manned by Arrain Yusef

Arrain Yusef's face went numb as the impact of the back of Enriov Tagva's open hand resonated through the side of his face.

"What authority did you have to enact the defensive grid??" Riov Jelok had rushed to the console while his Enriov interrogated the Arrain, snapping his fingers at relevant personnel around them, demanding the command code cards to deactivate the grid before any further damage could be done.

"Praetor Hitan wants someone's head, Arrain, and I've a feeling it's going to be yours." His attention diverted to the Riov.

"Jelok, give me a status report!" He loathed to execute any personnel, as trustworthy *and* capable officers were a scarce commodity these days, but he needed to make an example. Today was too important a day to make grievous errors.

"I've deactivated the passive network, Enriov. Reports indicate a minimal amount of downed craft. At least three Federation shuttles... a Dreshayan trader... some pleasure craft. Thankfully no Reman or Klingon craft. Transport signatures are much higher. We had nineteen personnel in mid-transit when the dampening field went up. All dead. Several hundred were diverted to remote locations."

"I was only doing my duty where bureaucracy was not, Enriov!" Yusef tried to scramble to a standing position, but Tagva stepped on the Arrain's chest, pushing him back to the floor.

"Stay down, ghilik. You sicken me." The older Rihannsu's face was flushed a dark green from the heat of ire. "It was not your order to give, and most certainly not your place to question the Praetor!" Tagva snapped his fingers, bringing a pair of Centurions.

"Deliver his head to the Praetor."

"No!" Yusef's arms were grasped by the two armored soldiers, and he was dragged out amidst his calling for mercy in defense of the Empire.

***

USS Galaxy
Main Bridge

"REPORT!" Kol's voice bellowed throughout the bridge, overshadowing the eruption of alerts and audibles that started as soon as the first Romulan ships went hot on their weapons and immediately trained them on the Galaxy.

"An electromagnetic field just activated around the planet, Commander." Kaya Akauki, the G.E.L.F. female who had just been assigned her first shift on the bridge, replied coolly.

"What does that mean, Ensign? Explain! Bosco, get me someone in the Rihannsu government to get some answers!"

"Commander," T'Rehn, fresh back on duty after her ordeal with the Dithparu had left her comatose, was also on her first shift back, but Kol liked her. She had a Klingon soul instead of the chatterbox Vulcan machinations her race usually produced. "Communications are scrambled. I can't recall any craft on approach to ch'Rihan that haven't been caught in the field. Transporter control reports they lost eight crew in transit."

"One at a time. Ensign Akauki, explain this field."

The brunette turned in her seat, already having memorized all the pertinent details.

"The field destabilizes non-singularity drives within a certain range of the field. Most likely, the computer controls are out on the craft caught in the termination wake of the field, and I would put their odds of survival from that altitude as minimal. Craft caught under the wake will find their primary systems off-line, no method of propulsion. They will crash on the surface."

"And will this have any effect on transporters?"

"The field itself has no bearing on transports, but a transport dampening field was raised over several locations on the planet's surface. Anyone caught under the dampener when it was activated will not have survived. The information stream carrying their molecular information would have been corrupted. The end result would have yielded an incomplete pattern rematerialization."

Kol wasn't a squeamish being by a long shot, but the idea of individuals rematerializing missing sections, appendages, or re-arranged was not a thought worth dwelling on. It was a dishonorable way to die.

"Commander, I can't reach anyone on the surface of ch'Rihan." Bosco shook his head from side-to-side, flustered. "Our communications are being blocked, still."

"Any craft on approach will just have to deal with the situations as they come. We can't do anything for them, but we can deal with these dishonorable petaQ if need be. Call Captain Henderson to the Bridge."

***

Rihannsu Senate Chambers

"We cannot allow the starship to leave orbit, Praetor! They carried an invasion force and would have used them against us. It is the proof we've been seeking, and you know it."

Hitan walked the Senate floor, pacing back and forth between the wingtips of the Rihannsu log. It was not normal procedure for him to leave his station, but after the successful assassination methods employed by Shinzon, he would not die in his chair like his predecessors.

"Proconsul, we do not know if it was an invasion force. Why would the Federation be so careless to have a Jem`Hadar force on board in plain sight? Why wouldn't he have had them all shroud to conceal themselves from our sensors?"

"Because the Federation are an arrogant people."

"I disagree, Proconsul." Donatra, representative of the once seceded military fleet, rose from her position as Defense Minister located near the Praetor. She'd recently arrived, just prior to the Galaxy's falling into orbit, when she'd been asked to take part in the funeral of General Omar's son. She liked neither, but it was in the interest of good relations that she was here.

"I've worked closely with Starfleet in many endeavours in the past, and though they do have some questionable characteristics, arrogance by throwing Jem`Hadar into our midst blatantly is not one of them. They like to talk too much first."

"And back up their words with an invasion force!" One of the Senators slammed a fist on the table.

"I think we're presented with a perfect opportunity to test their intentions."

All eyes turned to Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu as she entered the chambers, at which point they all bowed in deference when they recognized her.

"What do you suggest, Empress?" Hitan raised his eyes to the woman who had appointed him as Praetor.

"Divide the crews. Force them to recognize there are multiple fronts and feints. That we are far from weak. If they agree to the requests we make, then it is likely that they are telling the truth. If not, they open themselves to multiple repercussions by having spread themselves out. And if they refuse to divide their personnel, we destroy their ship in orbit."

"How do you intend to accomplish that, Empress?" Omar had also risen and come to stand next to the Praetor. The rest of the Senate remained hushed. If one of these two faltered, then the Empress would them killed. Everyone vied for power, and when the Empress was present, it was best to shut up and listen if one ever wanted to advance.

"Why, quite simply, General. We bring their command crew down here for the funeral, and send their most skilled personnel to Cheron aboard a Warbird. Then we offer our own engineers to assist in whatever issues they are not admitting to having on their ship. Call it an effort in diplomacy for the error in judgment for activating the defense network. We can even assist in locating their missing crew if any were on transport on the way down here. We do not mention anything about the Jem`Hadar. It gives us the advantage."

"I have my predispositions to this path, Empress, but your will shall come to pass." Omar bowed, never breaking eye contact.

"You always have predispositions, Omar. Let us all be thankful you are not Emperor, then."

The General tried - successfully - to hide his ire, and then left the chambers, barking orders into a communications device on his wrist. The rest of the Senate fell in behind him, their cliques chattering amongst themselves about the current events.

"Building Bridges"

By The Bridge Crew - All unauthorized.

***

USS Galaxy
Main Conference Room
Twenty minutes later

"... I've agreed to their request." Cassius Henderson looked to each face around the table, missing crew very noticeable. Legate Curran, Karyn Dallas, and Kimberly Burton had been all en route to ch'Rihan when the network had come online, and gone missing in the ensuing din.

"I still find it very suspicious that they ask us to do this after fine-res scanning of the ship, then make it part of the package offer to allow some of their personnel on the ship."

"As do I, Mr. Bental, but in the interests of diplomacy, we're left with little choice. Would you rather I tell them they aren't allowed on the ship?"

"Yes, I would. There is a lot of sensitive material on board they should not have access to."

"Which they'd take anyways, if we decline their offer, if those Warbirds outside have anything to say about it."

Cassius turned his gaze to Commander Corgan, who was unusually silent during the meeting. Typically, the outspoken and unorthodox Security chief would be up front and center during any staff meeting, but not this time. It didn't take any counseling skill to know something was bothering him, but Cass elected to leave it be for now. "Then it will up to you to prevent that from occurring Commander, since you'll be in command of the Galaxy while we are away. I'll need Ensigns Artim and Eytan for the trip. They both have medical expertise to help out."

Corgan raised a brow, but nodded in acknowledgment.

"Commander Kol, you are tasked with mentoring Lieutenant Tarin, who will be in operational command of the trip to Cheron. I'll need you there if negotiations with the Klingons reaches an impasse." He turned to the next face at the table.

"Since you're in command of the mission, Lt.," He focused on Iniara next, "Lela Beral will be your operations officer in stead."

"Aye, sir."

"Doctor Mathieson," Cass gave a start when the doctor upturned one eye to him, reminding him of the story of Frankenstein and Igor. "You're tasked with the medical operations of the mission. I'm told there are casualties amongst the civilians. Bring what you need to make sure everything proceeds smoothly."

Next, he turned to Ella Grey, currently acting Chief of Engineering. "Ms. Grey, I need you here to keep the Rihannsu from understanding the full implications of what O'Shea has done to the ship. Assign Lt. Eshe and Turan Trelar to the Cheron mission." On Grey's nod, he moved to the next person in line.

"Mr. Terrik, since the ship will be stationed in orbit for the time being, I've assigned you to the Cheron mission as well." He nodded to 8-Ball Hunter next. "Ms. Hunter, this is your area of expertise. It doesn't need to be said that you are indeed part of this mission."

Teyri Jen, representing Vanguard while Corran Rex was on assignment. "Ms. Teyri, assign Mr. DiMillo to the mission. It might help him learn to refocus on his duties that much faster." Everyone here knew that the former Intelligence Officer had operated outside his authorization several times. By sending him on this mission, it may help him realize his duty came first, not personal vendettas.

"Lieutenant Baile," The Marine CO was stock-still at the back of the table, a statue who spoke very little since his return from wherever he was. Baile was most certainly not the same man as he was when he left, and even though Cass had never associated with him, it was the marine's composure that spoke volumes.

"We'll need Lt. London, Lt. Ward, and Master Sergeant Johnson for this operation, along with their support groups. I don't want to take any chances."

He stood up from the head seat, and spoke to all of them as a single unit.

"Take whatever support personnel you need. If we can show the Rihannsu that we mean them no harm or betrayal, then perhaps we can re-establish the level of trust we had worked so hard towards when the Titan was here last. Don't take any un-necessary risks, check in every six hours with the ship, and *be careful*."

"Dismissed."

Occurs before "Something to Work With"

"Confronting Demons" (The Rihannsu Tangent)

Lt. (JG) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

**** Theta Province, Nimbus, 2369 ****

The eyes burned their way into his soul, eating away at his very existence. They were awful and yet mesmerizing at the same time. They drew him in and he found he couldn't turn away, despite his whole body screaming to turn and run for it.

The eyes were filled with anger, and great hatred. And it was all directed at him. And his fellow Marines.

He could see them from his position behind the barrel. Two gleaming orbs looking towards his own position. His weapon lay 2 feet away, in the open, out of reach.

He had tried to reach it already, and had nearly lost his arm in the process. If only the owner of the eyes had been a better shot.

With the other Marines a click away fighting the main force, he was alone, in a one on one fight, with his weapon out of reach.

His knife was lying on the floor a click to the south, broken in two, so he couldn't use that. He checked his uniform for anything he could use as a weapon. His hand wrapped around the only thing it could find; a spare clip for his rifle. It would have to do.

Taking his time, he lined up the throw that he had to make. Over the barrel, under the roof truss, and directly between the two glowing orbs that made up the enemy's eyes. Reaching back, he threw the weapon and did a fast count to 2 before reaching over for his gun.

He heard a loud thwack, he hoped it was the sound of the clip hitting the soldier, and pulled his rifle in just as several shots hit the area where his rifle and hand had just been.

Several shots from his own rifle later and he heard the soldier go down. Cautiously moving forward, while keeping cover behind whatever he could, he found the soldier lying in a pool of blood, on the cusp of death.

His eyes no longer showed the anger they had before, but great sadness. At what, Jonas didn't know, but as he breathed his last few breaths he spoke a few words to the young Marine.

**** Jonas' Quarters, Deck 4 ****

Steven woke with a start, his mind fresh with the events of that night. ~Damn! Not again! ~ He was sweating profusely and shaking uncontrolably. He could feel the dampness of the sweat in the sheets. ~ Third time this week. Why is this happening to me? ~

Throwing the sheets off his body, Steven rose to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes briefly. Muttering to himself of the stupidity of the recurring dream, he rose to his feet, stretched his back, testing the fully healed ribs in the process, and made his way groggily owards the shower.

The hot water soaked his body, throwing off the last vestiges of sleep and soothing his mind.

It had been a week since the series of disasters had befallen him in the holodeck. And he had not seen hide nor hair of 8-Ball since. No doubt avoiding him after he had gotten her into it. He didn't blame her. After the burning building, quicksand, Lion and the holo-crew mates trying to kill them, he doubted if she would even talk to him again.

It was likely that Holodeck 3 would be shutdown for a full examination of it's systems and all holoprograms that were in the database would probably be reviewed by Engineering. It was all a big mess. And O'Shea was to blame.

After finishing in the shower, he checked the chronometer and found it was the middle of Delta shift. The Marines didn't have any training today, with some of them heading down to the capital of the Rihannsu Empire and others being drafted to assist in watching their Jem'Hadar guests.

Chucking on some jeans and a t-shirt, he laced up his boots and exited his quarters. He had heard that Engineering was investigating the program to determine the former Engineering Chief's reasoning, to hopefully determine what else she may have done to the ship. He decided to pay them a visit and see how they was getting on.

He turned down the hallway and headed for the turbolift.

**** Main Engineering, Deck 36 ****

Added to Nara's normal duties of watching scans and pressing buttons to correct spikes and so forth, she kept her eye on the assignment board. Those really were her favorite and after the holodeck incident, she felt mighty highly of herself that she saved the day. Or helped. Either way.

Ok, so she just yanked a few wires. Whatever got the job done. She would much rather have to answer for torn wires and a hole through a door than losing lives. She did enough of that on Sakaria during the civil war.

The doors to Main Engineering swished open before him, exposing him to the peaceful hub of activity. He had assumed that they would be a chaotic mess of Engineers wandering around like headless chickens, and Steven was pleased to see this wasn't the case. Stepping past the doors, he spotted the woman from the holodeck at a station nearby and approached her.

"Hi." he called out to her.

Nara turned to look at him, giving a polite smile. And also a smile meaning -please tell me you need me to fix something somewhere.-

"I'm Steven Jonas, Marine and Holodeck Survivor. I recall you being outside. I didn't catch your name in all the confusion."

"Lt. Naranda Roswell." She held out a hand. "Everything ok?"

He reached out shook her hand. "Yeah. Everything's fine. I heard that you guys had been trying to find out what O'Shea had done to the holoprogram. Did you have any luck?"

She scowled, "We're trying to figure out what she did to the whole ship. Woman went on a rampage."

"Oh," Steven said, "I'm sure you guys will crack it eventually." He smiled.

"Did you hear that the Marine CO returned yesterday? Haven't been to see him myself. Besides, he left before I joined the Furies, so I don't see the point." He paused. "And I'd rather not see any more Brigs. Two weeks in one is enough for me."

Nara looked at him curiously. She had heard it in passing, but it suddenly hit her it was Baile. "Baile?" She raised and eyebrow, but shook her head realizing it wasn't too surprising he was in the Brig.

Steven nodded. "Besides, I have enough trouble trying to evade both my nightmares and this O'Shea character. And since you're working on the latter, I guess I'll have to focus on the nightmares myself."

She looked at him as her thoughts about Baile were pushed aside. More like wondering what he heck he was up to to put him in the brig. "Nightmares?"

Steven sighed slightly. "Sorry, not sure why I'm telling you this. You're an Engineer and not a Counsellor. It's probably just cause we are so close to Ch'Rihan."

She checked something that had beeped, wispered a Sakarian curse, but was relieved it was only a system error. "Aw. She didn't do that. Galaxy just got a little grumpy." She finally turned back to him, "You have nightmares about Ch'Rihan?" She wasn't sure why he was telling her these things either. If it turned out to be a long conversation, she'd just ask to meet him after her shift. Which was only about an hour longer.

Steven shook his head. "Not Ch'Rihan itself, but rather that my first kill in the Marines, heck, in my entire life, was a Romulan. I guess it's messing with me after all these years. Anyway, it looks like you guys are busy, so I'll leave you to your work."

Nara nodded, "I get off in an hour if you want to talk then."

"Sure. Want to grab a drink in Ten Forward?" He turned to leave her to her work.

She had started to concentrate on her work, but muttered, "Sure. And might wanna talk to his family, though. Hard as hell, but kinda brings closure."

Steven smiled. "That's not a bad idea. I could check with the Federation embasy and see if they know where his family is. Thanks. See ya at Ten Forward."

"Yea." And in a moment all that was on her mind was those little frequency signals and making the lines do what they should.

off: takes place before Open Fist begins

"Something to work with"

Lt. Ella Grey
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Lt. Jiiles Engineering Officer (NPC - Written by Dru)
Ensign James McCormick, Engineer
Ensign Serec, Engineer

"I don't know anything new." Ella told the engineers as she entered the room. "And until Medical and Security gets done with her, we're not going to learn anything from O'Shea. So for the time being let's pretend she's still off somewhere terrorizing innocent star ships. Found anything new?"

"Too much to mention." Michael said. He was first in giving a reply for a change. He read the first one-liner of the PADD he held in his hand. "The 'nicest´ one being the case of dissolving uniforms." He didn't explain the incident further, assuming that by now everyone what know what he was talking about.

"The holodecks are pretty screwy too." Nara mentioned with a bit of distaste. Then she added, "If we haven't already, we might want to lock them down and go through every program." She knew it would take a lot of work, but no telling what programs were tampered with and how.

"I concur with that." Jiiles said joining in the discussion as he walked through the door. He nodded briefly to Ella in acknowledgment of being slightly late to the emergency meeting. "I have just been down there and crikey, there are bugs planted under bugs and what's worse is that preliminary checks aren't picking them up. It appears that most of them are in the sub routines. Really nasty shit too. But my main concern is that if there are nasty bugs in the holo decks, what the hell is in the rest of the ship?" He looked around at the faces of his fellow engineers and let that question sink in before continuing.

"My suggestion Sir," he turned to Grey, "is that we close them down for the foreseeable future, lessen the risk to the crew. But we *must* concentrate on scanning and repairing the main systems. I say we start gutting them one by one, start with the most important, life support for example, then on to defensive and then offensive systems."

Nara nodded, "Life support, then the core. Replicators. Who knows, maybe she planned to poison us as well."

Which was all very well and good but it wasn't like they hadn't been scanning and repairing and looking for problems since the minute they'd learned of O'Shea's betrayal, Ella thought.

"We need a more accurate diagnostic." Ella commented. "Everything we run is telling us that the ship is fine, and then something falls apart."

Just then a man stepped forward from the faces around engineering. "What if we try our hand at creating a program that would run as a diagnostic but work as if it's looking for where problems could be, we could use what we now know about the clone and use that as a base to write a program. Granted it might be totally wrong, but I'm sure the computer would find some things that we haven't even discussed."

Nara looked at the man, "Make the computer think like the saboteur?" She nods, "But who knows what she was thinking? So many things seem erratic. Some things seem well planned out and have a definite purpose, while others were so random."

Serec, a Vulcan, standing not far away from Ensign McCormick raised an eyebrow when Nara spoke. "Events are never random. They are simply not processed to make logical sense. The program, I believe, Ensign McCormick is talking about would take a lot of time to create and the outcome would only be theoretical findings since we do not have a prolonged study of how the clone was thinking..." Serec then paused and thought. "However, there is one possibility. If we could get access to the clone's personal logs that were made we might find better insight into the realm of her thinking while here onboard the Galaxy." Serec said, though he knew getting those files from Intel and Security would be unlikely.

Nara looked at the Vulcan thinking to herself, ~Yea, kinda what I meant.~ She otherwise kept her mouth shut, agreeing with the idea of looking through logs. Until an idea came to mind, "She was obviously more than she wanted us to see. She wouldn't post anything useful in logs. All we know was she was highly talented and had a need to sabotage. We'll just have to take the ship apart bit by bit and correct anything we find."

"I might have another way of finding out where we need to focus our attention primarily." Serec stated. "We can view the internal sensors of where the clone was or working during the duration of her time on the ship... it would be fairly easy to use the combadge she wore... however, as cunning as she is she have disabled the universal position program out of the combadge while still maintaining full transporter ability."

Jiiles sighed, "We could spend hours creating systems to work out what she did.  We could spend even more time tracking all the locations that she visited, knowing full well that a saboteur knows how to hide his tracks, especially a clone of the chief engineering officer.  BUT that will inevitably be fruitless." He slammed his palms down on the table in frustration, eyeballing the others round the table; they just didn't seem to understand the enormity of all this!

"While we play catch up the damage is already done and who knows what other booby traps lay ahead.  I say we turn off all non essential systems, and start gutting this ship from top to bottom.  It's the only way to make sure every where is clean.  I know that we have already gone through several systems, but we need to be thorough.  At this point in time no one is safe on this ship.  If something goes down it will be our fault.  The safety of this crew is now in our hands!"  Possibly a little overdramatic he thought but his point was still valid none the less.

"The safety of the crew is always in our hands." Ella pointed out flatly. "I want a report on every system that we can shut down, re route, gut, or fry and then ideas how to protect the systems we keep or fix. Serec, recheck the internal sensors and someone go bug Intel for O'Shea's logs again. The rest of you get back in there and find me something to work with. We need to stop this bitch before it's too late."

"Visit to a Busy Planet" featuring...

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Tech SGT Carol "Foe-Hammer" Rowley
ARC Operations Transport Pilot, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Corporal Richard Simmons
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Corporal Dexter Grif
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Private First Class Grace Waldron
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Private Leonard Church
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

Private Franklin D. Donut
ARC/SFMC Trooper, USS Galaxy --ONPC

========================

Location: Briefing Room #2, "Marine Country"

For the once members of SFMC's 237th Strike Group, being back in orbit around Romulan homeworld was something of a really bad case of deja-vu as the last time that they were there, an altercation occured which lead to their commanding officer being knocked back to Second LT from First following an incident where a Reman captain choose his words...poorly.

Now, here they were again and several of the ARC's friends looked at them funny when they announced that as a whole that they were not going to go down to the planet's surface, much to the surprise of Ensign Teryn Wilat who had a strange relationship with their boss but they pushed that thought out of their heads when he made a statement that made them sit up and listen that ended with a single word:

"Cheron"

Carol Rowley was the first person to speak in the dead silence that had entered the room with the one phrase that spoke voloumns..

"You've got to be shitting me." Foe-Hammer said as she looked over at Greg, "You've got to be utterly shitting me. They are sending a group of us aboard a romulan warbird to save something on that prophet's forsaken rock of history."

Caboose looked at Rowely and simply said "Wow, you said Prophets.." before Church that was sitting next to him smacked Caboose upside the back of his head at which point Church quickly regretted it as he had-forgotten the other man's slightly thicker skull due to Caboose being from a high gravity world.

"Maybe I should think about changing departments..." Greg muttered under his breath before he turned to face his troopers. "Alright, enough jokes and shiate, we need to get serious here. While I would like to keep some of the ARCs here on the Galaxy during all of this, Lieutenant Baile feels that all of the ARCs need to be aboard for the trip of Cheron."

This time the unit's sniper and scout in Grace Waldron piped up from where she was leaning against a wall, "That makes no sense, sir. I mean why send us into another exploratory situation let alone take orders from someone who abandonded his post during a crisis." she said evenly, her voice kept with the same tight restrant that Greg knew all the ARCs had on the subject of Baile at the moment.

"Despite all personal views on the subject, Mister Baile is currently still the highest ranking marine on this ship as well as in the sector which means for the time being, he's still SFMCCIC for the Galaxy. On the other hand, I checked into a few things and this is well within the ARC mission scope." Greg said, hoping to head off certain questions at the pass before they could be asked. "I know that we are special forces but in this case lady, gentlemen and Caboose, is that how many federation scientists have been to Cheron in the entire history of our government?"

For several long moments, nobody said anything until the slow and mellow voice of Caboose simply said "Not once in the history of the Federation has any scientist not of Romulan origin been permitted to step upon the face of Cheron."

At this everyone in the room simply turned with astonished looks at Caboose who normally wasn't the most academicly minded of the ARCs and while he served as the unit's heavy weapons expert due to his strength, he was known for his pearls of utter knowledge..but this one took the cake.

"Where did you learn that one, Caboose?" asked Tucker who's jaw was just now returning to it's normal location.

Caboose simply shrugged and said "I paid attention in Federation History 101 in high school." was the only thing that he said.

Greg shook his head and coughed loud enough to get everyone's attention, "I want standard suit up arrangements for this little trip. I want standard weapons load and a few extras just for possibility's sake. Furthermore, I want one to two ARCs covering all command level personnel just in case something does indeed go down." Greg said and then he looked at the assembled ARCs and shouted "DO YOU GET ME?!"

The room as a whole stood up and repeat "WE GET YOU, SIR!"

"Good, now go and get ready. I want this unit to be waiting at the transporter padd BEFORE any of the command leads show up to head out, understand?" Greg said and he got yes's from everyone present and he headed out of the room, Grace and Church close behind him.

Meanwhile, Simmons leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest before looking over at Grif who was also sitting next to his squadmate, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "Do you ever wonder why we're here?" he asked

Grif turned to look at Simmons who since the day that the two of them graduated form basic and was posted to the same strike unit had asked that question but today with all the serious shit happening, he looked annoyed at his friend and said "No. I NEVER wonder why we're here. Semper fi, bitch!"

At this, Caboose looked over at the two and smiled then said "I'm having a lot of fun. It's like we're real soldiers." before he left the room to catch up with Tucker, leaving Simmons and Grif behind to look at each other for a minute before they started laughing.

"Preparations"

Pilot Paulo "Hawkeye" DiMillo, Vanguard Squadron

*****

Paulo looked over his new assignment. He hated being in the dark about so many things. It was odd being out of the loop, not knowing what was going on. All he knew was what was on this padd and this padd told him to report to the transporter room in 2 hrs for disembarking for a Romulan warbird.

He had no idea why he had been assigned to this mission. Most likely to teach him some kind of lesson. But none of that mattered now. He had a mission he had to get to, but before that, some refreshing could be in order. Who knows what the Romulans considered showers on their ships.

About 30 minutes later Paulo stood over his desk collecting some padds. A couple good books, not to mention the history of the first Federation/Romulan war. He knew it had ended on Cheron, but that was about all he knew about the war.

After going over a few last things, and leaving a message to be delivered to anyone who tried to contact him, not that to many people ever tried to call him.

After finishing gathering his things, he headed out of his quarters, heading for the transporter room to meet up with the rest of the team.

"No Rest for the Wicked"

Ensign Robert Mathieson, Medical Officer
Delta Shift - Sickbay

==Sickbay, USS Galaxy==

"Oi - wot d'ye mean, I've got t'er fill this lot out?"

"Doctor Mathiesion, I assure you, the forms are quite standard", the Vulcan Ops Lieutenant said smoothly while presenting a PADD to the old physician. "All inventory going planetside must be accounted for. You should not be alarmed - I have compiled everything into a single file to expediate the process."

Mathieson accessed the file directory and his eyes bulged. "Yeah, but the friggin' file's ten bleedin' megabites large! It'll take me a month o' Sundays t' get this all figured out!"

The Vulcan simply stared down at the diminutive human with a cool, unemotional glare. "Terran calendars usually feature four to five 'Sundays' in a monthly calendar period. I estimate the inventory evaluation to take approximately six hours and twenty minutes..."

"SIX HOURS??"

"And twenty minutes. Assuming you are diligent and proceed uninterrupted immediately" the Vulcan concluded, unbothered by the human's emotional outburst. He gave the doctor a curt nod, turned and left Sickbay leaving the short human bewildered, shocked, and highly annoyed.

In Bob Mathieson's hand, the inventory list for a portable hospital unit scrolled through and his eyes raced to keep up with the data. Not coming remotely close to the bottom of the list, he looked up from the PADD to see the staff of Delta Shift unusually busy sorting and calibrating Sickbay's many pieces of medical equipment - each person vainly hiding a smirk or a grin. The old doctor growled. "Don't worry - yer all off the bleedin' hook! Wouldn't wish this big steamin' pile on any of ye!"

A tall red-haired nurse broke the silence with a quick laugh which quickly spread through Sickbay. "Thanks Saint Bob! We knew a kindly old man like yourself wouldn't inflict that kind of paperwork on his hard-working and loyal co-workers." She then gave Mathieson an elaborate and overly formal salute. Another wave of laughter rippled through the ward.

Mathieson gave a good-natured glare at the giggling nurse. "Brenda - you were my favourite nurse on Galaxy. Now you're jus' the oldest. An' I'm real glad you folks are so hard workin' an' loyal; both'll come in handy on Charon." Looking around at his shiftmates, the old doctor changes the tone of his voice to something more serious. "Let's start by reviewing triage procedures for Romulan, Reman and Klingon physiologies. In a couple o' hours, I'll cook up a holo-simulation of some casualties an' we'll go through some practice treatments."

Delta Shift went to their tasks quickly with grins on their faces, and Mathieson once again thanked the gods of old doctors and old fools that he ended up with a good staff. He retreated to Sickbay's office and began a review for the equipment required for the mobile hospital unit the new Captain required. The list was enormous and throroughly detailed, but he knew that many little "extras" would be required for effective practice.

The task was more than a little daunting.

"Bloody hell..."

================================

Field Emergency biobeds
Anabolic Protoplasers
Cardoistimulators
Dermal Regenerators
DNA Code Analyzers
Hundreds of Hyposprays
Portable Medical Diognistic Scanners
Dozens of Medical
Microtomes and Microscopes
Neural Stimulators
Neural Transducers
Ostrotractors
Dozens of Field Medikits
Physiostimulators
Plasma Infusion Units
Protodynoplasers
Laser, Monomolecular and Nanotech Scalpels
Sonic Separators
Trilaser Connectors
Portable EMH Emitter

And that was only the portable equipment! The list of medicines for the races that inhabited Charon, in addition to those that may be required for any of Galaxy's crew, was considerably larger and still comfortably in his element - but paled significantly when compared to the list of equipment that needed to be procured from Ops. The portable hospital's structure, power supplies, replicator units, water and waste disposal systems, lighting, ventilation, forcefield generators - all had to be ordered and tailored to the medical unit's specifications.

All equipment then needed to be packaged and crated for transport onto a Romulan warbird. ~And what a fun little trip that'll be!~

Mathieson drew on over three decades of medical practice and the experience gained during two Federation wars to make sure the mobile unit covered any contingency he could imagine - and his imagination was wildly creative. Delta Shift had performed admirably with the triage drills he had devised - two Romulan surgeries, a Reman burn victim, and a Klingon badly injured by disruptor fire. He repeated the excercise with Gamma Shift who, although they wouldn't be going planetside, would be providing valuable support for the mobile unit.

Gamma Shift came to a close when the old physician was finally done. Copies of the master file was sent to the absent Kimberly Burton's personal directory as well as the Captain, Executive Officer, Chief Ops Manager and Head of Security. For good measure, he made a request of the head of the Marine Battalion to borrow a couple of field medics for the mission - people who would be cool under fire, just in case things got a little hot planetside.

Another call to Security to ensure proper surveillance of the hospital and his people was also required. Reports about Charon were sketchy, but Mathieson had enough experience in the field to know that if the Romulans were willing to allow Federation assistance, the situation was bad - and many see the hospital's presence as another business opportunity rather than a humanitarian effort. He also wanted to avoid submitting his patience to the tender mercies of the existing Klingon forces.

Finally, eight hours of paperwork had taken their toll and no ammount of strong tea could reverse the downward spiral of fatigue he was experiencing. Rubbing his eyes, he left sickbay for a last-minute visit to the ship's quartermaster to finesse some last-minute items before the need for sleep robbed him of his good nature and finely honed diplomatic.

"Silence was Golden"

By

Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

Ensign T'Rei, Security Officer

After dealing with Karyn Dallas for the last hour or so, the Kelvan was in serious need of avoidance and sensory deprivation.

In other words, silence was golden, even in an era where the metal's economic value was deemed worthless. In this case, though, it was worth more than all the latinum that could be processed. And it was scarcer than a likeable, neutral-scented human.

Moving through the congested corridors, he felt suffocated in the throng of people preparing for rotation to the surface of ch'Rihan. After all, it wasn't every day one was able to step foot on one of the most storied and mysterious locations in the known galaxy, was it?

Of course, Kylar had been stationed here almost a decade before, as Pro-Consulor of the Kelvan Embassy in Ki Baratan's N'emoth District. In fact, this was his last posting before coming to the USS Galaxy. In many ways, he felt like he was coming home, as the Rihannsu were by his definition, the better and more efficient peoples of those known between the Federation, its allies, protectorates, and enemies. Their arrogance and divisiveness had brought about their downfall, unfortunately, even as Curran had predicted while he was here. If they'd stayed the course and utilized their resources for the common good instead of individual selfishness, greed, and grasp for power, they would likely have been the most powerful force in the known Galaxy. It must sicken them as much as he had been when the Kelvans were defeated by Kirk and his crew that they had to turn to the Federation for assistance in restructuring as a result of their fractured society finally collapsing in on itself.

He needed to get off this ship. There were simply too many things happening on board that he did not need or feel a desire to attend to. Dallas and her ramblings about his intrusive memories or whining about being hurt, Elessidil most likely trying to chase him down for a counseling session, Dobryin and her unending questions about the Hydran research facility, Iniara and her surprises... on and on and on and on, like some rambling, drooling mental patient. He could get everything he needed on the shuttle ride down without having to become embroiled in the soap opera happenings of the crew all clamoring for gossip and rumours du jour.

He used his keypass to get him as far as he could below decks, where the shuttlecraft were likely not being used as the transporters were the favored method of travel. Not for Kylar. His genetic structure didn't agree with his dueling DNA and molecules being scrambled.

There was a small line of personnel boarding each of the larger of the shuttlecraft aboard. He had hoped to gain passage alone on one, but now that seemed quite unlikely.

It didn't take him long to discover upon registering that he was required to carry a security escort with him to the planet's surface. He made a show of arguing with the Shuttle Bay Chief, whose rather large form did nothing but cross his arms, and shake his head from side to side. He wouldn't even discuss it. In fact, he never said a word.

Finally, Curran ceded, understanding the officer wasn't going to be acquiescing to the Kelvan's needs. "Show me the security roster of available personnel, then." Brute released one hand, unfurling it and pointing to a lone PADD sitting on the registration counter. Curran snatched it up.

Running his eyes through the scrolling list and seeing no one he cared to bring along - they were all women or irritating humanoids - he just called up a random name, keyed in a request for them to meet him here, and locked off the name from other duties using his authorization. Brute nodded, and let him pass to stand in line for processing to board the shuttle.

T'Rei was at the moment, tucked safely within the confines of her quarters. The duty shift was gloriously behind her, with nothing but hours that stretched out into welcoming oneness. Or, so the ensign thought. Her console informed her that a notification had been sent and required her urgent attention. Sighing, she slowly walked over, sat down and read the information. It stated that her presence was required at the shuttle bay to execute the duties of a security escort.

"Curran." Knitting her eyebrows, the ensign had not recognized the name associated with her upcoming duty. Packing a few things into a small duffel bag, she gave her quarters a cursory once over before heading to the shuttle bay. She grew reflective as she meandered her way through the corridors and turbo lifts. Her shot at being alone was shattered, and that somewhat disappointed her to some degree. It was a desire of hers that this Curran person kept to himself or herself and let her escort in peace.

However, that occurred to her a slim possibility with the various crew members she had the pleasure of recently holding conversations with. The crew, or most of it in her opinion, lacked sufficient logic and discipline in the workings of their daily lives. This ranged from streaking naked in the corridors to tales of outlandish sexual behavior, nothing appeared sacred anymore. Upon arriving to the shuttle bay, she inquired as to the whereabouts of the person that she was required to escort. Locating him, she spoke. "You are Curran?" She stated inquisitively.

He was three individuals away from boarding when he heard his name cantered out somewhere to his left and down. Turning, his shoulders moving forward before his neck did, the rail brushed his side, instinctively causing him to look down in distraction.

It was there that he saw the stoic female officer who was staring coolly up at him.

"You are Curran?" She repeated the phrase monotonously.

"I am Legate Curran, yes." Someone pushed past him, pressing him against the railing. It caused his eyes to squeeze shut as both hands grasped the metal support beams of the ramp to retain balance. Chills coursed down his back.

"Is your physical being acceptable?" She questioned.

"I cannot tolerate being touched. Most humanoids are not hygienic and disrespectful of personal space." Left alone on the ramp after the last person boarded - who happened to be the one to push by - he was signaled by the shuttle pilot of impending flight.

"You are my security escort?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then come. You're holding up the flight." Looking back to the pilot, he turned his back on T'Rei, walking in determination to the hatch, where he ducked inside.

Saying nothing, she arched her right eyebrow. T'Rei sensed that this flight had potential to be most illogical.

When Curran ducked under the archway into the runabout shuttle, the activity was enough to make his chest rumble in a sickening response to the anarchy. Raising a hand to the upper railings that had been dropped from its reservoir from the panels above, he used the bar to maintain his balance as he swung and ducked to avoid being jostled by other beings. The stench in the condensed passenger cabin was atrocious. Turning, and seeing the human woman between him and the cockpit, he changed his mind about approaching the pilot to increase the air circulation. At least until he found a location to seat himself.

Covering his nose and mouth with a kerchief he tended to carry around with him, he dodged an incoming armpit from some giant, hairy creature he couldn't identify through his tears, and almost fell into another female's lap. With some deft footwork, though, he managed to avoid the embarrassment, and reach the back of the compartment. Cracking open the storage area in the rear, he rushed in, anxious to away from the smells. One of the flight personnel of course tried to persuade him to join the others, but quickly left Curran be when he found out the hard way - vocally - who he was. He was replaced by the woman who came on board with him, who stood resolutely by the door.

"I hardly see the need for a security escort in what is nothing more than a storage closet, Ensign. You're free to join the others up front." Sighing, "Not like I can escape this tin can if I tried."

"I would be remiss if my duties if we were separated, Legate. My charge is to provide escort to your person. You are not 'up front'. You are here. Therefore, so am I." Curran strapped himself into the only jumpseat available amidst the emergency supplies, deliveries to ch'Rihan, and luggage of the passengers.

As the shuttle lifted underneath them, the inertial dampeners almost instantaneously following behind, Kylar couldn't help but feel a bit on the humiliated side. Cramped into a loose-fitting crosshatched patterns of Velcro and bright-colored hemp in between packages and storage cabinets, he sunk himself into the contraption and tried to meditate. He hoped the silence would bore the woman into leaving.

Several minutes into the flight, the voices of the other passengers in the forward compartment began to increase in volume and fervor. The shuttle bounced, then shook. Assuming it was the upper atmosphere they were breaking through with the turbulence affecting the craft, he ignored it. He'd been on many shuttle transports during his life, and this one was no different. It was just typical of the humanoids up front to complain when their luxury craft had a little bounce to its step.

"I believe your services are required more with the passengers up front becoming anxious, Ensign." At the moment he ended the sentence, a tremendous crack reverberated through the craft, and the sound of shearing shrieked all around them. The Kelvan couldn't help but cover his ears with both hands as the sounds threatened to overwhelm him. The pitch and wail had drowned all other sounds as the dampeners then failed. Opening his eyes with sheer will, he noticed the ensign was gone, likely doing her duty in assisting the passengers up front.

Fighting against the g-forces that threatened to pin him to his seat, Curran groped along the support rails, containers and random items falling and crashing on him as he and the forces swept them off shelves in an effort to make his way forward.

Upon reaching the doorway, he had to use the manual over-ride to pry it open, and when he did, the sight that greeted him almost tore him from his place at the door, if it were wide enough to yank him through.

The top of the shuttle had been rent off, which explained the shearing sound he'd heard earlier. All the passengers were gone. Above, patterns swirled in a myriad of color. Wispy white of cirrus clouds, grey tendrils, shades of blue sky - or was it water? All of it swam by the open roof of the shuttle in a dazzle.

Movement in front of the shuttle caught his eye. Two forms, hands moving about in a frenzy, he could hear bits and pieces of phrases, but couldn't make out the meaning of them.

Kylar, his face pressed hard against the door because of the vacuum decompression of the rear compartment, twisted his face so that his mouth was between the cracks, but obscuring his vision. He yelled out to the ones in front, demanding to know what was happening. Turning so that his ear was pressed against the gap now, he could catch only pieces... something about an emergency, and a transport, but nothing else. It was drowned out in the wind.

And so he peered back out with one eye, his face numb against the cold, and could see one of the pilots gesturing towards him, and yelling something to his co-pilot. The humanoid turned back to say something to Kylar, but then the cockpit window the pilot's side shattered with an object that sent shards of the material out through the hole in the roof. Some of the material impacted against the door Curran was peering anxiously out of, cutting his face in several places before he pulled his eye out of the way.

When he looked back, he saw the pilot's body dangling in his seat, half the male's face ripped away. The roar of the wind was intense, overbearing.

Then a gods-awful sound rippled through the entire ship. Metal screamed in agony, it's ear-splitting sound attacking Curran's eardrums, and then it was gone.

When he opened his eyes, the fear of his future finally loomed large over him. The entire forward section of the shuttle was gone, and the ground flowing past him underneath, not a dozen meters below, and closing.

Looking forward with trepidation, he could only watch and wait as a great mountain range drew ever closer, its snowcapped peaks quite uninviting.

And then the shuttle crashed, sending the remains of its contents skewing across the rocky landscape.

"Unlikely Allies" pt 1

(Takes place prior to "Burning Bridges")

Principal Characters
Major Corran Rex
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff Lt. Ella Grey

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Rex's quarters
Deck 41
--------------

Corran's insides felt numb as he read the message on the screen. Hell, Rex itself felt numb. There were good reasons for the Trill law - although as often as it was broken, it should probably be called a tradition - of not getting involved with associates or lovers from past lives. It was too much baggage. And if there was enough of something that Corran Rex had, it was certainly baggage.

But this brief announcement...

Backett had deserved better than a half-hearted note tossed Corran's way.

He'd deserved better than to be the only person who survived him be the new host of his old partner.

He'd deserved better than such a crappy death - and he deserved the right for someone to know why.

It didn't take Corran long to decide what to do.

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

Two hours later

It hadn't taken long to get everything taken care of. Even now he was throwing the list of the things he would need into a small duffel - he'd have to stop by the Armory to get extra power packs for his phaser. Actually, there were some in the flight deck's Armory, he could just get them from the Squadron's quartermaster. Maybe a few other little trinkets, too.

The conversations with Cass and with General Et'zet had been short, indeed. Cass had understood. The General had been harder to convince, but once the topic of resignations had come up, his Breen superior had proved remarkably accommodating. It wasn't like much had happened here while the Galaxy was at Romulus. Frankly, it didn't seem likely that much *would* be happening. The Squadron could do without him for a bit. Teyri was a good leader - better than she gave herself credit for. And she had Pad, Angel, and O'Connor to back her up. They'd be fine. He'd even secured permission to take Vanguard One to get back to Deep Space Five, where something with a bit longer legs and of much more dubious credibility would take him to Mosanalea. A brief conversation with Teyri had placed her in Acting command of the Vanguards, and then he'd left Ella a message explaining - briefly - what was going on, and asked her to meet him on the Flight Deck in an hour.

Wouldn't be right to leave without saying goodbye, after all.

Now he just had one more person to see.

---------------------------
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters
Deck 7
-----------------------------

Corran rang the chime once, and then pressed the intercom. "Victor, its Corran. I need to talk to you."

There was a long pause, as lights set into the door's lock flashed in a complex sequence. Corran – or rather, Vorrin – recognized the modifications and the patterns: there was a scanner installed which was verifying his identity. It was amazing how much the boy (and who else on this ship would think of Victor Kreighoff like that?) was like his uncle. It gave Corran an all-to-familiar feeling of deja vu sometimes. But then, at Rex's age, there wasn't much that didn't remind him of something else.

The lights flashed once, and then the door opened.

Into darkness.

The room was unlit; the only light either coming through the room's exterior window from the ship's running lights or in the door f