Unlikely Allies pt III
"Sidestepping Regulations"
Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff

(OOC Note: Obviously, these all take place after any posts with Victor currently on the ship.)

----------------------------
Deep Space Five
Docking Bay 47
---------------------------

["Vanguard One, you are cleared for docking in Docking Bay Forty-Seven,"] came the prim and proper voice of Deep Space Five's Dockmaster.

"Acknowledged, Control," Rex replied, noting just how formal the woman sounded. Then again, if he had Olivia Proctor standing over his shoulder, Corran imagined he'd sound pretty formal too. Or he would have committed a few acts that would have landed him in the stockade or cashiered out altogether. Either way. "Control, do you know what port SS Auriga is docked in?"

["Docking Bay 47,"] came the immediate response. ["Captain Greyheart informed us he was your rendezvous, and is standing by to depart. He assumed you would want to get underway as soon as possible, Major."]

"You got that right." Corran muttered. He damn sure wasn't staying on Proctor's station any longer than he had to.

Victor frowned at the approaching station. He supposed that he ought to have considered this, but in the rush to get packed he hadn't. Ordinarily he wouldn't worry about it, but with this being Admiral Proctor's station… "Major?"

Corran was slightly preoccupied as he started going through the landing protocols. He powered down the main impulse drives, switching the small craft over to thrusters, and set the running lights to their landing sequence.

Banking the craft down towards the open docking bay entrance, he only slightly cocked his head towards his passenger as he replied. "Yeah, Vic?"

"Will we be linking up with your arranged transport directly, or passing through the customs bay?" the security officer replied tonelessly.

"Its standard procedure to go through Customs." the Trill replied slightly cagily. Victor was a Security Officer, after all, and openly admitting violating Starfleet regulations on a Starfleet station didn't seem to be the wisest course. Those would be Vorrin's instincts, of course, but hey - the old man had had a wonderful sense of self-preservation.

"Ah. Perhaps I should make you aware that there are three unlicensed and unregistered energy weapons, one unlicensed and unregistered chemical propulsion projectile long arm, and several electronic devices I failed to return to the Intelligence department after my last undercover assignment in my luggage."

There was a slight thud as Vanguard One touched down on the bay deck, and Corran breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's why you're asking."

Victor considered that for a moment, and decided that the number of reasons that the Major might have *thought* Victor was asking were too many to contemplate. "You were worried that there was another reason?"

"Well, I thought you were about to go all 'cop' on me," Corran admitted. "Instead, you're worried about getting busted. I gotta say, sunshine, that's a side of you I like seeing."

"You did tell me that this was an undercover operation," Victor pointed out. "It seemed foolish to be using Starfleet-issue equipment in that case. I apologize for not mentioning it sooner, but I had assumed that you would be taking extra-legal channels from the outset."

"Don't worry about it, Vic. I brought along a few less-than-legal toys, too. Greyheart'll take care of it."

The Major didn't seem worried, which meant that there was little likelihood that he needed to be, but Victor's experience had taught him that leaving things like that to chance was like trying to beam one's self to a planet's surface with an open canister of antimatter in one hand and an open biogenic virus dispenser in the other; whatever happened, it wasn't going to be something that you'd like. "All right, sir. However, in the event that your plan seems unlikely to materialize, or fail, let me use mine."

"Why does that make me nervous, Vic?" Corran asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at his newfound partner.

"I still have the open-ended intelligence operations warrant attached to my file from my last undercover operation. Attendant K'vala has yet to file a closure report, so the operation is technically still ongoing and the warrant is still valid, and under it, I – and members of my team – have been authorized to possess equipment outside normal authorization parameters."

The Trill cocked his head to the side. "Well, that's... handy."

"Until someone queries the Galaxy about my possession of the warrant, at which point it's a loophole that will be closed. If the department had undergone fewer personnel changes in recent months or if some resolution had been reached regarding my illegal lung, I expect that it would have already been closed," Victor replied. "For the moment, however, it's valid and they'll have to honor it. Rules are, after all, rules."

Corran wasn't surprised, a few minutes later, to hear Damon arguing rather loudly with a customs official. "You got any idea, kid, ANY idea, how much business I bring through this station?"

Victor glanced towards Corran and shifted his bag to sit on top of the locked case he'd brought with him so that both hands were free.

"Should I intervene with my plan, Major, or is this still a situation where your friend is likely to make his plan work?"

"I'd rather not keep waiting." Corran muttered. "All right, Vic. Do your thing."

Victor nodded and started forward.

"Wait -" Corran started, considering what had just occurred to him.

Victor paused. "Yes, Major?"

"Your plan - nobody gets killed from it, right?"

Victor considered that: was it possible someone would do something that required he kill them? Or was the Major just worrying? "People do things that I don't consider reasonable all the time, Major; I rarely kill them for it unless they do something that I feel deserves it. But I don't foresee the need to do so on this occasion." Perhaps that would answer both questions.

"Just checking."

Victor nodded once more – perhaps he wouldn't need the padd yet after all – and started forward again. Both men looked up as he approached the three-meter mark, the short and balding customs official taking a nervous step back and to the side so that the Major's contact was somewhat between him and Victor. "Is there a problem?"

"C-customs inspection," the official replied, drawing strength from the repetition of a familiar litany. "Your bags have to be inspected for contraband according to…"

"Regulation 79914-35, Subsection Delta," Victor finished for him. "I'm aware of that." He extended a hand abruptly, making the smaller official jump, and the Major's contact reach for what Victor assumed was a concealed weapon of some sort. "If you check this," he displayed the isolinear record chip in his hand, "you'll find that the inspection is unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" the smaller man bristled and snatched the chip with a jittery motion. "Inconceivable!"

Victor thought that to be a poor choice of words. "Unless, of course, I am traveling under diplomatic credentials, or I possess…."

"…an active Starfleet intelligence operations warrant?" the smaller man interrupted with a further look of outrage. "Inconceivable!"

"Obviously not, since I, indeed, possess one," Victor replied. Perhaps this word the official kept using did not mean what he thought it meant; people did things like that sometimes. "Are we cleared?"

The official looked down at the display on his padd, stabbed the controls three times with a finger and thrust the chip back at Victor. "Here! Now get off my docking pad, Lieutenant – and don't let me catch you trying anything funny here – I've got my eye on you!"

Victor slowly looked down at his uniform. No, there was no ocular organ there, which meant the official was merely threatening him with additional observation. For a moment he considered threatening the man back, then stopped as he realized that he was already starting to fall into the persona he'd adopted while on assignment with the Attendant. That was dangerous. "I'll remember that," he said instead. "Have a good day."

With a sound somewhere between and snort and a squeak, the official scuttled off, and Victor walked back to where Corran was standing. "No one needed to be killed, sir."

Heedless, perhaps, of his own safety, Corran slapped Victor on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Glad to hear it, Vic." he said, tossing his erstwhile friend a ready grin before turning his attention to the half-Caitian who had also watched in amusement. "Damon, you old pirate! How you been..."

"The Hearing" pt 1
Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, C-in-C, Starfleet (Pat)
Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau, CO 12th Fleet (Frank)
Fleet Admiral William Valerian, CO 10th Fleet (Frank)
Fleet Admiral Jenee Teleel, CO, SF Foreign Affairs Office (Kate)
Vice-Admiral Sindar, Operations and Logistics Handler, B.Q., SFI (Ian)
Admiral Olivia Proctor (Ian)
Captain Daren M'Kantu (Robert)
Veema Rel, Reporter, FNS

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

Starfleet Command

San Francisco, Earth

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

"This is Veema Rel, reporting for FNS outside of Starfleet Command. Today, the much controversial competency hearing for Starfleet Captain Darren M'Kantu, of the Starship Galaxy, gets underway. Now, as a Starfleet proceeding, all cameras and media have been barred from actual observation and recording of the proceedings themselves."

"This hearing over the events at Mirusa and Deep Space Five four and five months ago has crystallized itself into the latest point of contention of the ongoing Hawk/Dove debate that permeates almost every level of the Federation's government, and, as we see now, even the upper echelons of Starfleet."

"It's become enough of a hot-button issue that Fleet Admiral Murdock, the C-in-C of Starfleet, is serving as president of the review board himself. It's difficult to say where Murdock's political loyalties lie - as we know, the Admiral is particularly cagey about his political opinions with reporters. His only comments on record are that his loyalties "lie with the the Articles of Federation, the President, and Starfleet, in that order."

"Next is Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau, who many reporters have nicknamed "the Sword", after her Twelfth Fleet's eleventh-hour rescue of the Starships Miranda and Galaxy and the now-infamous Battle of Havras, nearly two years ago. deMercereau is one of the most prominent of the latest political groups to emerge onto the scene, the Moderates."

"Also serving on the board is Fleet Admiral Jenee Teleel, head of the Starfleet Foreign Affairs office. Known as one of the most ardent members of the Dove faction, it's unsurprising to see her inclusion on this board, which has been specifically convened in the wake of Admiral Olivia Proctor's accusations that Captain M'Kantu was derelict in his duty by not firing on the Hydran craft at Mirusa, and that the events there which delayed the Galaxy, and therefore Admiral Proctor's arrival at Deep Space Five. It's been strongly suggested by the Admiral that her presence, and possibly Galaxy's as well, could have prevented the massacre of the seventeen thousand Starfleet, foreign and civilian personnel lost there. Admiral Teleel has not commented on the matter publicly, but it is possible that she sees the lack of a declaration of war at Mirusa as vindication for the Doves."

"It's also possible, for that same reason, that the other two sitting members of this board may be just as eager to condemn Captain M'Kantu. Fleet Admiral William Valerian, CO of the 10th Fleet, and Vice-Admiral Sindar, the Starfleet Intelligence Handler for the Beta Quadrant. Both are Hawks, and politically allied the Prosecution in this case, Admiral Olivia Proctor."

"Captain M'Kantu has elected to speak in his own defense. This reporter wishes him the best of luck."

"We'll be back once there's something new to report. Back to you, Talek."

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

Starfleet Headquarters
Hearing Room Three
San Francisco, Earth

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

Daren closed his eyes and silently offered up a final prayer - not for himself, his fate was unimportant compared to the larger issues that loomed over the Federation, but for the Federation itself. With individuals like Olivia Proctor, Jenee Teleel, and Jas Abrik in positions of power, it needed Allah's help more than he ever would. Without His help, Daren could not help but fear that the Federation was on the road to either becoming the thing that it had so often fought against: a totalitarian, militaristic regime, or becoming as extinct as the Iconians.

Olivia Proctor was the first to arrive at the proceedings, allowing herself to bask in the dazzle of strobes and flashes as she pointedly did not hurry to her predestined place in history. Head held high, with the occasional pause as a reporter she fancied would throw a microphone and holocam at her, she felt like a queen on her rightful pedestal. This was her show, and she would show them all that she was not to be trifled with.

When she stepped through the great doors that marked the entrance to the hearing room, she allowed them to remain open behind her for a scant second, giving some lucky reporter a fair angle into the room at just the right moment. The fact that the others were coming down the opposite corridor - which she had played out the timing for so that she would not be bound by a confidentiality clause if ever the photographs came into question - gave her a twinkle in the bland eyes she was genetically imbued with. No need getting her credibility called into question. She would get her picture on the front pages, and none the wiser would question why.

She strode with purpose, passing alongside M'Kantu with nary an acknowledging glance in his direction, and took up her position on the prosecution witness side.

The security officer serving as Bailiff interrupted those thoughts. "All rise." he said formally, and the gathered officers and ratings filling up the room stood to attention.

Fleet Admiral Murdock walked in first, closely followed by Fleet Admirals Valerian, Teleel, deMercereau, and a Vice-Admiral Sindar. The five Admirals each took their seats on the bench, and Murdock banged an old-style gavel. "This hearin' is now in session, in the matter of Admiral Olivia Proctor, Commandin' Officer, Starbase Deep Space Five, vs. Captain Darren M'Kantu, Commandin' Officer, USS Galaxy NCC-71637. The charges leveled against Captain M'Kantu by Admiral Proctor include Dereliction of Duty, Disobeying the orders of a Superior Officer, Conduct Unbecoming an Officer, and the final charge that you are Unfit for Command of a Starfleet vessel. Captain M'Kantu, how do you respond to these charges?"

There wasn't any more time for doubts or worries now, which was a relief. Whatever happened now. happened. All he had to do was make certain that he said or did nothing that he would be ashamed of when it was all said and done. "Not Guilty, Admiral," Daren answered clearly.

Sitting one spot to the left of Murdock, the stoic image of 'Admiral Sindar did not betray the ripple of suppressed emotion that was as efficiently repressed back into the realms of primitive chemistry his body still deemed necessary to the ultimate evolution of the Vulcan species.

He'd interviewed the two parties in question at Deep Space 5, and been the issuant of a call to summons for the suspended Captain of the USS Galaxy. He agreed with many of the points brought forward by Admiral Proctor, but could not resolve to a conclusion to methods employed by the frontier station commander were in fact made with the intention of a duty to Starfleet. Sindar was of the belief Proctor was doing this for personal pride, and an abuse of her authority if it were to come out that she was.

If she were doing this based on a personal agenda, then she had not projected the consequences of those actions if she her reasons were to become known, and as a result, the Hawk coalition would lose a key position hard fought for on the frontier. A Dove command officer in charge of Deep Space 5 would only engender sympathy amongst the Council if anything were to occur there. A Hawk, though... A Hawk would give them leverage.

Sindar would have to tread the line carefully on this hearing.

Fleet Admiral Jenee Teleel was not the soft looking woman one might expect her to be, given her very public beliefs of peace above all. It wasn't that she was anti-defense; that was always misinterpreted, people always saw her as soft, unwilling to take action. It was how the media always spun what they called the "dove perspective." Frankly, she believed the media was to blame for the bulk of the internal problems the Federation was encountering; it was becoming increasingly more difficult to distinguish good, reliable media from the reactionary tripe that too many people took as the Gospel (according to whatever far-right agenda pusher du jour). She was as much for the freedom of the press as anyone, but she certainly advocated of a solid, discerning wit.

She was not anti-defense or anti-defensive strategy. She was, on the other hand, against the strategy of seeking out of armed conflict, a strategy that a growing number of her colleagues seemed to advocate in effort to create a "more solid and stable Federation."

That, she thought with a mental scoff, or a shattered Federation with few resourses and fewer allies. And, of course, far, far more enemies, something they obviously didn't need.

It was one thing to respond forcibly to a situation when all avenues of diplomacy had been exhausted and there was, beyond a reasonable doubt, a clear and present danger. Jenee believed that was the responsibility of any strong and stable government, and more than that, a part of their oath to serve in the interests of all the citizens. So too was it their responsibility to respond forcibly when the Federation was *clearly* and *inarguably* attacked by a distinguishable enemy.

But to respond to every rattle of the cage, every shot across the bow, every rogue group (perhaps) loosely affiliated with governments that (might) bear ill-will, every angry word by an opposing official… to respond to any and all of these with violent blood shed and armament was not something that created a strong government. It was something that threatened to dismantle it, far faster than any external enemy could.

It was because of that Jenee found this tribunal a disgusting waste of time and resources. It was not MKantu's place to gather intelligence, nor was it the place of any one of his officers or departments. Even his intelligence team was minimally equipped and authorized for traditional ship service. As far as she was concerned, his actions averted certain war, a war the Federation (despite the insistence of the so-called Hawks) was not yet equipped to fight, and a war the Federation, perhaps, would not have to.

If it came, it came, but M'Kantu's decisions bought them time, perhaps even years, to attempt diplomatic means of ending future conflict. Jenee sighed softly, tucking a lock of bright copper colored hair behind her ear, stealing herself for the tirade Olivia Proctor would embark upon in the next few moments. One of these days… one of these days she would see that beast of a woman in the very same position of this poor captain. It was just a matter of time.

"It is so noted, Captain." Murdock replied, looking over to the court reporter. "We will now move into opening statements. Admiral Proctor, if you please?"

Timestorm - Part 2

Lieutenant J.G. Michael McDowell, Engineering Officer
Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer

Crew Quarters, Deck 14

Keldan entered his quarters. His nightly workout complete, he tossed the sweat-soaked towel in the general direction of the clothes processor, walking toward the food replicator. He didn't have time for dinner in 10-Forward this morning. He needed to get a few more hours' work done before he could allow sleep to be a consideration.

He stood at the replicator, thinking over his food selection. Meat. He wanted meat. And not the regular "nutritionally sound" portion, either. He'd probably pay for it later with bizarre dreams due to a full stomach, but right now he didn't care. "Terran T-Bone Steak, Rare. Sweet Karnid Potatoes and Greens. A Tankard of Talarian Dark Mead." The replicator alcove hummed as the food materialized. Grabbing the plate of food and his drink, he moved over to his workstation. He sat down heavily in the chair and activated the control panel.

He was startled for a moment at what came up on his system display. The last thing he'd been working on was an updated roster for time usage of the lateral sensor arrays, but the current panel configuration wasn't in the correct format.

He felt his temper rise. If someone had tampered with his console while he had been on duty, he'd break their fingers. Not the most subtle of reprisals, but he had learned it could certainly be an effective one. He punched up the access log. According to the listing, he had been the last one to access it, in the early hours of the morning. But he certainly hadn't been browsing the stellar cartography library.

"Computer, has there been any external access to this workstation since four hundred hours this morning?"

"A routine diagnostic was performed by the central computer at 0-6-0-0 hours." There was a long pause, and for a moment, Keldan thought the computer had finished. But it hadn't. "A remote connection was made to this terminal at 0-8-0-3 hours."

So, someone *had* accessed his workstation. His scowl deepened.

"Computer, where was the origin of the remote connection?"

There was another long pause. "Insufficient data."

What in all the hells did that mean? "Computer, explain."

"No source information on the remote connection has been logged."

That certainly wasn't right. "Why wasn't the information logged?"

"Insufficient data."

"Damn." Keldan threw up his hands in disgust, but quickly turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He would not give up so easily. Perhaps a different approach would be more informative.

"Computer, is there an identification access marker?"

"Affirmative."

Well, now he was getting somewhere. "Well, then, computer, would you please tell me *who* authorized access to this computer?"

"Computer access authorization by Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer, USS Galaxy."

Keldan stroked his beard with one hand while bringing up the details of the access log with the other. He'd been asleep, in his bed, at the time of the access. So, unless he'd managed to get up, walk around the ship, access a terminal and then somehow erase the access log, all in the midst of blissful slumber, there was definitely a problem here.

"Computer, what information was accessed during the remote connection?"

Yet another pause. "Propulsion Control Systems Log. Environmental Control Systems Log. Crew Manfiest. Starfighter Duty Roster. Historical Database. Stellar Cartography Database."

Keldan sat back in his chair, letting the information sink in. Strange. None of the data that had been accessed was classified. Anyone could have accessed the information from any terminal on the ship. So why had they chosen to use the one in his quarters? The various information seemed random, which was strange in and of itself. Why would anyone be interested in such disparate information? It was like a child had mashed on the panel just to see what they could bring up. Or maybe someone who was totally drunk. Or out of their mind. And then an even more pernicious thought entered his brain.

"O'Shea."

Perhaps the rogue Engineer had somehow introduced some corrupting code into all of the various ship systems. Since her booby traps and pitfalls were currently being discovered all over the ship, it was certainly a feasible hypothesis. It would certainly not have been all that difficult to attach a timer to her little saboteur exercise. And she would be one of the few people on board capable of breaking into the access code files to make it look like he had authorized the remote connection. It would be just his luck that she would have picked him, someone relatively new to the crew, as the source of this possible fiasco. Conniving little bitch. =^= Ensign Keldan to Engineering. Please send someone to my quarters immediately. I think I may have found another of O'Shea's little 'presents' which could be a serious headache for everyone. =^=

"McDowell here." Michael responded to the call of Keldan because everyone else in Engineering was too busy. "I'll be with you in some 15 minutes." Michael closed the comm. channel and turned around. Nice, another surprise of O'Shea. Would it ever stop?

"Ground Zero"

Chapter 2: "A Rush of Blood to the Head"

By:
Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN
Chief Counsellor/Second Officer

Ensign Kiel
Apprentice Counselor

******

"And I have got to stop talking to myself," she said a little louder as she topped a small rise. Seeing the wreckage of the shuttle nearby she raised her voice, "Hello! Anybody?"

Sliding down the slight slope with a small amount of difficulty she made it to the bottom and scanned the area. The burning plants gave sufficient light to cast the crash area in an eerie light, flickering orange light gave the entire scene an almost surreal cast. Digging out a tricorder she flipped it open and scanned the immediate area, looking for any signs of life, or any signs of unexploded materials from the shuttle.

Getting some spotty readings, Kimberly realised that something in the area was interfering with the tricorder, the debris was emitting a low level of thoron radiation from some component or another, playing with the tricorder as she cautiously approached she worked to tune out the radiation, ~ Must remember a hyronalin dose when I get back to the ship! ~ she muttered, not that she really needed one with these levels, they were annoying more than dangerous, but procedure was procedure.

"Hello!" she called out as she approached the shuttle slowly, recalling her EMT course ~ Be safe, you can't help others if you're dead! ~ "Anybody?" getting some clearer readings now she was closer she realised there were life signs in the shuttle, ~ Goddess above, someone survived that! ~ Impressed, not only at their luck, but in the durability of the tough little ships she looked around for any surviving emergency lockers. The e-kit she had packed a tiny first aid kit, but more may well be needed.

Stepping over or around the debris trail as she approached from the rear of the shuttle she walked around the side of it and whistled softly as she realised that the aft compartment was mostly all that was left, the cockpit was gone, or perhaps a little further away, unseen in the darkness. The main passenger and cargo compartment was a total mess, spread out over a wide area, only the aft compartment seemed relatively intact.

Making for the remaining compartment in the hopes of finding an emergency medical kit she raised her voice again, "This is Doctor Burton, if you can hear me, please answer!"

~ Please answer, I don't want to be down here alone! ~

******

The predator that had been hunting him had gone about its way, possibly finding something more palatable to the taste, or fearful of approaching the burning wreckage. The sun had gone down now, and with it, the temperature.

He'd gone into a light delirium some hours ago; there was nothing in the kit that would assist in a fever, and if there were, he was unsure how to determine what or how to deploy it.

Having doubled up on pain medication, he'd been able to better survey his surroundings, going through the various lockers within a realistic distance. In one he found the torn up remains of an environmental suit, which he used some material to wrap around the bone protrusion and thigh wounds. The rest he used to cover his body as best he could.

Still, he shivered uncontrollably. How long before a rescue? He couldn't determine how many hours had passed. It could have been minutes for all he knew. His teeth chattered, and he knew the pain medication was wearing off, for he felt a maddening thrum in his temples begin to erupt. He twisted his whole body to the side just in time for the nausea to complete its task, spilling the remains of his stomach contents into the empty locker beside him.

Falling backwards to the support he'd fashioned out of a torn bulkhead, he reached out with a hand and closed the locker. The odor only served to cause his stomach to lurch, and he'd vomited enough in the last... hours? He was finding it much harder to breathe now, too. Lights spotted before his eyes.

"... please answer!"

His head lolled to the side at the new sound in the darkness. His eyes were drifting closed against the cold. He must be going into shock... imagining voices.

"Here..." He coughed, his throat dry from not having spoken in some time. When was the last time he'd said anything? He tried again to respond, but broke into a coughing fit that doubled him over. He felt... something... coming out of him with the coughing. He couldn't see in the dark, but it tasted metallic. Blood. He was spitting up blood. Internal injuries.

******

Dallas awoke from her troubled dreams with a start. She must have lost consciousness for sometime. A tentative touch of her forehead revealed the gash had stopped bleeding and was now crusted with dried blood. She could feel her eyes growing heavier when just as suddenly, she thought she heard a rustling outside the shuttle

Still trapped onto her stomach, hoverchair crushing her, Karyn strained to push herself up mightily and thought she heard a voice. "I'm in here!" she yelled.

It's often said when one loses one ability that others take for granted, the other abilities take over and compensate for the deficit. For Dallas, that ability had always been her hearing. She prayed now that she wasn't hallucinating. *Wouldn't that be a kicker? I'm the one whose crazy,* she thought wryly.

******

Drifting somewhere between consciousness and dreams, the young El Aurian was slowly made aware of reality. Voices. Cries. Calls for acknowledgement. They beckoned the youth to open his eyes, which was disappointing because life was certainly much less painful with them shut. Blissful unconsciouness seemed to be a fleeting and fickle notion, which slowly receded into his mind until Kiel was staring up at an unfamiliar sky. Lifting his head up, the adolescent counselor was careful to examine the snare of gnarled branches in which he had become captive. The battered shrub was holding him perhaps a meter off the ground, a sizeable break in the foliage giving evidence of the boy's violent ejection from the shuttle that they had ridden to disaster in. Good times.

Coughing, the boy seemed to shuffle against the tenuous web of interlaced branches that was holding him aloft. Finding his bearings as he tried to recall how to move his body. Every slight motion was cause for some sore spot to stab at his senses. A bar of gold- pressed latinum bet that in the morning, Kiel was going to have bruises like no tomorrow. A second later, he had pried himself away from the shrub's hold, dropping down to the ground with a light thud. He stayed there in a low crouch while he continued to gather his senses and try to recapture his breath. Slowly, he stood on shaking legs, turning his head as he spit upon the ground and took a step forward. The terrain wasn't exactly the sprawling metropolis populated with pointy eared vixen that he'd been expecting, but after the landing that brought him here he supposed that he ought not be so picky.

An object protruding upward looked to be somewhat familiar. It certainly didn't belong in the natural scenery. Striding toward it, Kiel's gray eyes moved over the strewn out wreckage, smoldering and burning still, the ground at his feet crunching as he stepped over burnt shrapnel from the shuttle's pitted hull. As he neared the object, he realized why it had looked familiar. It was a hoverchair. With a person trapped underneath. Picking up his pace, the young ensign moved in a light trot. It was as much as he could muster with the sense of breathlessness lingering in his chest. Staggering to a halt as he approached, Kiel reached out a hand to steady himself against the overturned chair as he peered over to look down at the back of the chief counselor's head. He could tell that she was alive anyway. That was a start.

"I don't think the chair is supposed to go this way, Commander," the ever whimsical boy quipped lightly, offering the human woman a wan smile should she be able to peer back over her shoulder to see it. Were the world ending, Kiel would have likely had a smile for it.

Karyn jumped slightly at the sound of another voice just over her shoulder. She wracked her brain for a moment, trying to place the familiar sound and then she remembered. "Kiel," she answered hoarsely, but with a smile and a touch of her usual sarcasm. "You look as horrible as I feel."

"They Say Time's A Healer - Part 3"

Michael McDowell
Civilian Engineering specialist

Private Alliya Yhwalyan
Marine, Corporal (APC, Written by Dru)

*** Deck 11, Holodeck 3 ***

Michael walked down Deck 11 as he was thinking back at the conversation he just had with one of the Engineers in Main Engineering. Numerous complaints had come in about the Holodecks, some even describing life threatening situations. Looks like he'd been really 'off the world' since he didn't hadn't heard of it at all.

Upon rounding a corner he noticed a familiar figure at the Holodeck controls. Michael sighed. "Oh no!"

"Stupid dam thing!" Alliya shouted hitting the wall with a hypo spanner. She was half inserted into the maintenance hatch for Holodeck three with its

'guts' spilled out around her. Any engineer's nightmare!

Shuffling to the side Alliya grabbed the padd that she was reading from, and began to compare the tool in her hand to the picture on the padd...

"That's not right.." she muttered aloud. "What the hell? Well then where is that one?" she griped questioning the air. Arching to one side she began to sieve through the tool kit, throwing things out in sheer frustration.

When he was close enough he looked over Alliya´s shoulder. "It's the one on the right." He said.

Alliya whipped her head around quick to see who the smart-aleck was. Her eyes narrowed on McDowell and she scowled.

"What are you doing here?" she asked scathingly picking up the tool he indicated she shuffled forward and began to scan the padd and the tool in turn, wondering what the hell it was, and mainly, how to use it!

Michael sighed. This was going to be a long evening. Maybe he really should turn around and forget about it all. But then she would be right. And on top of that, it wasn't Michael to walk away from something like this. "Good question. Well, if you really want to know, I was planning to try and fix your precious Holodeck."

Alliya looked up at him. She was stunned a little, annoyed more. If he had just followed her when she first asked then she wouldn't have spent half the afternoon bitching at him. But in hind sight she rather enjoyed the bitching. So instead she smiled. Yes the marine actually smiled. And it was pleasant, unlike the rest of the Marine core with their toothless grins that was more like a grimace, or rather made everybody else grimace, her smile was actually nice to look at, lifted her features, took the edge off what normally came out of her mouth.

Now, that was a change he never expected. Seeing her smiling was something of a small miracle. "Don't get your hopes all up. I said I'll try fix it, but I can't guarantee anything. So, no tears when it doesn't okay?"

Alliya chuckled, "Don't cry." She repeated, "As if I could." She pushed back from the wall, untangling herself from the mess she'd made, handing Michael the strange looking tool, with only one last curious glance at it, she smiled once more, "She's all yours 'chief'." she said with a grin.

Michael took the subspace frequency tuner from Alliya. There was a ever so slight grin which vanished quickly. "You can drop the 'Chief'. I'm not in Starfleet anymore, remember? Not now anyway." He said and looked the chaos before him. It seemed like the Innards of the complete Holodeck was spread over a few square feet. And he was suppose to put it all back where it belonged, including repairing the damn thing? "Tell me, do you always work this way?"

Alliya grinned, contemplating a cheeky answer, but decide against it. Her face fell, "Nah, I don't get to play with toys." she said sourly, "Just look at them."

"I'm a recon scout." She clarified.

Tilting her head to one side as she watched him she asked, "Will you tell me something now?"

"Why not. Go ahead." Michael said knowing he couldn't prevent it anyway.

"Why have you not reapplied for your position in the fleet?"

Michael stopped with what he was doing and looked her straight in the eyes for a few seconds. "You're curious, you know that?" he said. He didn't wait for her answer and continued. "Anyway, it's a long story. Lets just say I have my reasons."

She just stood there looking at him, blinking ocasionaly. "And?" she asked after a time.

"Ever considered I don't really want to talk about it?" Michael responded straightforward.

Aliya pondered for a moment wondering which direction to take. Sighing she shrugged, "Forget I mentioned it then." she replied down cast. Pointing at the exposed circuits, "Hadn't you better get on with that." she stated folding her arms across her chest, "I can get you a coffee or something if you want?" she added as an after thought peace offering.

Did he hear that correctly? Did she actually offer to get him something? "Eh, well, a coffee would be nice. ...Thank you." He smiled to her. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't that bad after all.

Alliya smiled back and walked off to find a replicator.

OOC: Although the Marines are already doing their own little mission, I thought I'd take Carl and some of the other, lesser-known misfits of the Furies Detachment out for a little fun in the dark. I hope you all enjoy!

- Matt

*****

"Bad Mojo" Part I

______________

CmdSgtMaj Carl "Pops" Johnson (APC)

Recon Team Leader

MSgt Niklaas "Kick" Furji (NPC)

Top Kick/Grenadier

*****

Stardate 60459.86 (17 June 2383, 2023 hours)

SFMC Furies field camp, unknown location, Cheron

*****

"Class-M, muh big black ass!" Carl growled through gritted teeth. He had just finished helping set up camp when Staff Sergeant Valentine, London's--formerly Baile's--lap-dog assistant, had called him to the headquarters barrack, ASAP.

Grumbling, he trudged through the gathering twilight darkness over the springy moss-like ground toward the DuraPlex shelter that was set up for housing the Furies' joint CIC with the Romulan and Klingon command staffs. Slowing for a moment, he leaned over and coughed loudly, attempting to expel the thin, foul-tasting air from his lungs. Even the god-forsaken air recyclers in the barracks prefab couldn't get that damned smell out. It was an awful-smelling strange mixture of copper and...something rotten. It made Carl want to puke.

"Breath of fresh air, Old Man?"

Carl stood up straight, startled by the sudden intrusion. He whirled to his right, searching the shadowy tree line, trying to find the shrouded visage of the one person he already knew was there. "Yeah, Kick," he responded guardedly toward the direction the voice had come from. "Fresh, motha'-fuckin' air. I'd give my Aunt Nettie to be back in Memphis, right now," he said, walking up toward the tree line. Earlier this morning, he had ventured to close his eyes and had tried to will his mind back home, back to where he had grown up along the banks of the Mississippi River as a kid.

It hadn't worked; that damned smell.

Carl listened and watched, waiting for some sort of reply. "Well--" the voice started, then paused. Carl caught sight of the dull-orange glow that quickly flared and then dimmed in the darkening night.

Gotcha, sunuvabitch.

"You ain't, Pops," it continued. "And this ain't no Kenra Valley, either." Another flare. Carl was finally able to make out the silhouette of the voice's owner. Slowly, he walked over toward the shape, which promptly held the glowing light out, toward Carl's direction.

"No shit, Kick," Carl grinned, clapping his Bajoran Sergeant, Niklaas Furjii, heartily on the back, setting off a fit of staccato-rapid coughs from the wiry man. He looked down at the still-proffered ember. "Fuck that, Furj. You know that's bad shit for ya, don'tcha?" Carl said as he simultaneously plucked the cigarette from Furjii's thin fingers, threw it on the ground, then crushed it with the heel of his left boot.

Sergeant Furjii grunted, then reached into the left breast pocket of his BDUs and removed another one. In a well-practiced move, he slipped the thin stick of tobacco between his wide lips, cupped his left hand over its end, lit the cigarette with a fluid spin of his ancient Zippo, and flared the flame brightly with a large pull of air.

"Shit, Pops," he said between puffs, the burning pole bouncing between his lips as he talked around it, "You smoke. Let a man enjoy his only vice." Puff. "I don't get no pussy out here--" puff, "and I sure as hell don't get paid nothin' by our beloved Corps--" puff, "so's the least you can do's let me enjoy this fine Carolin' tobacc'a." Puff. "B'sides, when my lungs go out, Medical'll just clone me a new pair, anyway." Puff.

"First of all, smartass," Carl said as he snatched the cigarette from Furjii's half-opened mouth, "You don't inhale a cigar, ya savor it." He took a long drag on the cigarette, before passing it back to the sergeant. "This shit," he coughed slightly as he blew the smoke back out, "ain't got no sweetness to it, no soul."

Furjii laughed, then threw the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, stamping it once with his boot toe. "So, L.A.'s bitch call ya up to the Office, too?" Furjii asked, using the jarhead's nickname for Lieutenant London. She hadn't gotten the moniker (luckily, still unknown to her) because she was from that happy hell-hole south of San Fran; no, she was actually Welsh. In reality, "Nitro" Capalino had coined the nickname as a two-worded descriptor for what--and Carl had to quietly agree--were her finer, uh..."assets".

Carl sighed heavily--he was supposed to be meeting with her right now. No doubt, Valentine was wetting his pants, searching frantically throughout the camp for the tardy NCO. Usually, Carl was never tardy. But tonight, on a strange world with shitty air to breathe, surrounded by Romulans and Klingons on all sides, he really didn't give a fuck.

"Yeah, but my comm's off, so I can waste my time gettin' warm-and-fuzzy with you," he said, drawing a chuckle from the Bajoran. He moved closer toward Furjii, who was nearly invisible in the coal-black night that had fallen around them. "So, what'd ya hear, Kick?"

"Some shit 'bout the sensor's're all FUBARed. Can't get any good perimeter sweeps, not even with the greenbloods' fancy new toys," Furjii sneered, referring to the exotic sensor equipment the Romulans had brought down to the surface with them. "The Lieutenant wants to send a scout group out--ya know, do it on foot."

"The best way to do it," Carl interjected. It made sense: if they couldn't get any SigInt from the equipment, then they'd have to get it the old-fashioned way--humpin' the brush. Hoo-ha, Carl thought, joylessly. "Who's on tap tonight?"

"Well," Furjii pushed himself off the tree trunk he had been leaning against. "If we're green'd, then I'm thinkin' Razor, Chuckles, Clapper, 'n Nitro," he rattled off, using the troopers' nicknames. He paused, silently mouthing the list of personnel over in his head, then continued. "An' probably throw in Flatline, Skittles, and Bus--just for shits-and-giggles."

"Big party," Carl commented. Usually, scout-recon teams were kept small, so they could cover the largest area with minimal impact. Though, with a larger team, they could probably get things wrapped up more quickly, and hit the sacks earlier.

"And," Furjii's raspy voice thickened with audible annoyance, "we'll probably get stuck with some of the nanny's. Damned Romulans," he spat loudly on the ground.

"Yeah, I hear that," Carl said, then propped himself off his own tree trunk. "Well, let's see if Lassie's peed herself yet," Carl sighed, his eyes quickly scrolling the virtual menu of his CNI's holo-cortical TEDD interface. Blinking once, he switched the commlink back on.

"Sergeant Major Johnson and Sergeant Niklaas, report to CIC immediately! I repeat, report to CIC IMMEDIATELY!"

Furjii chuckled as Carl noticeably flinched. "Is our doggie calling for us, Pops?" He started sauntering toward the CIC.

"Yeah," Carl mumbled, following, Valentine still blasting away in his audio feed, despite having been turned down several settings. "Boy jus' can't get enough of hearin' himself talk, I guess."

Snap!

Immediately Carl spun around, then froze--Furjii doing the same. Quickly, he switched off Valentine's voice, while selecting the high-gain microphone from his TEDD's pull-down menu.

[What was that?] Carl's holo-interface lit up as Furjii's StealthComm unit texted him.

[Don't know,] Carl replied. Then, he transmitted again to Furjii: [Scanners, 360 pinwheel, full-spectrum, now.]

Both men stepped into each other--back-to-back--turning a slow, silent pirouette while their implants scanned all the possible EM and subspace frequencies for any abnormal distortions. As they completed the sweep, Carl switched back to the green-and-black hues of regular Nightvision.

[Nothin',] Furjii texted.

Carl nodded once, sending an affirmative response to the Bajoran's TEDD readout. [False-alarm. Probably some stupid animal takin' an evening shit. Too bad I don't have my SAW with me right--]

Carl blinked and turned his head sharply, the movement transmitting through his body, still in contact with Sergeant Niklaas.

[What?!] Furjii responded to the sudden motion.

Carl kept silent, switching from infrared to high-band, then to low-end subspace. He could have sworn that something had flashed in his Nightvision for a nanosecond, just off to his left.

Nothing.

Instantly, he recalled the time when he was 13 years old, when Louie Badder had double-dog dared him to explore the old Jensen mansion with him and his friends on a cold October night. To this day, he felt as if someone--or something--had been watching them during that late-night foray into the eerie house. It was that same, pin-prickly feeling on Carl's arms and legs, running up and down his spine.

"Pops," Furjii hissed, trying to break Carl's trance. "Pssst, what is it?"

Carl's mind reverted back to the present, shutting out the momentary spike of silly childhood fear and foreboding.

"N-nothin'," Carl replied, his voice a little shaky. C'mon, man! he willed himself together. You've stared down Borg and Cardassians, chicken-shit. You're not gonna crap-out over some shadows!

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Let's get over to the CIC, Kick, before L.A.'s attack-dog is loosed," Johnson suggested as he forced his normal voice back into existence.

"Okay, Boss. Whatever ya say."

As they moved out of the woods and down toward the CIC, Johnson couldn't shake the feeling that something...unnatural was out there, watching them.

Nonsense, baby, he chided himself. Just some bad mojo. Jus' some bad mojo, he repeated, then jogged to catch up with Furjii.

"In the Kingdom of the Blind..."

Captain Vergh, Commanding Officer IKS Darchak
Commander L'Teer, 1st Officer IKS Darchak
Sub-Commander Durran, 1st Engineer IKS Darchak

==Planet Cheron, Romulan/Reman Colony==

~And so, yet another day on this Kahless-forsaken ball of Targ shit dies a blood-stained death.~

Vergh, son of Gorak was not amused by the crimson skies of another sunset - the deep red landscape only reminded him of the old petaQ Leto, and the many creative and painful ways the large Klingon could use to correct his infernal Romulan arrogance.

The Captain returned to the Klingon/Reman compound after his impromptu meeting with the Romulan director, the bile from his liver threatening to choke the life out of him. Descending into the ferro-concrete bunker, he shook his right fist and then held out three fingers to one of the guards. The young warrior nodded to his superior and, without a word, ran to execute his orders. Vergh entered the Command Center and awaited those he had just summoned.

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

L'Teer savored the blood-red skies, narrowing her eyes as she looked for one of the new native species that inhabited dry, scarred Cheron. The First Officer, unlike her Captain, found the dry, barren world a challenge, and sought out the more advanced lifeforms that survived the planet's nuclear holocaust. The less advanced lifeforms seemed to have thrived - the Darchak's token biologist had identified no less than twenty-one different species of roaches in only three weeks.

Sand laden gusts brought particles into her eyes, and she squinted to protect them from both grit and glare, but finally she had tracked her quarry.

Amongst the steep hoodoos that sheltered the settlement's southern exposure, she could barely make out a seemingly tiny nest made from the thin, scraggly dune grass that had also survived the ancient atomic fires. Perched at the edge of the nest, an ochre-red sand hawk gazed thoughtfully at the dunes far below. L'Teer estimated altitude and distance, and guessed that the nest was over six feet in diameter, making the bird-of-prey very large. ~Wing span - ten, twelve feet?~ T'Leer wasn't certain, but was determined to find out. She was securing her rope and grapple when her communicator came to life from it's expected silence.

"I told you I was not to be disturbed for any reason!", she snarled at the device on her wrist.

"Captain's orders, Commander", was the curt reply.

L'Teer bared her fangs, then cast a quick look at the distant hawk. Growling, she gave the only response available to her. "On my way."

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

"Busy."

Sparks flew as the IKS Darchak's chief engineer completed the seam of a repair on one of the Vor'Cha cruiser's bulkheads. One of the junior officers had decided that the Second Officer was too weak to merit the position he held, and proceeded to engage in the Klingon tradition of "rapid career advancement". Kajur proved to be no slouch in correcting the young pup, but the effort required a grenade and spread rumors that the defense may be one of the old warrior's last. Durran grimaced under the heat shield of his welding helmet, annoyed by his communicator's constant noise.

"I said BUSY!"

"Captain's orders, Engineer. You're to report planetside", came the answer from Cheron. "Now."

Durran extinguished his welding torch, flipped his welding helmet up, and cursed fate for assigning him to a captain tall on courage, but short on patience. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"You have five."

Stripping himself of his welding gear and tools, Durran raced to the transporter room quickly exhausting his sizeable litany of Klingon profanity. Vergh was the kind of captain why was tempted to use the fore torpedo launcher to expedite personal transport.

In fact, it was exactly in this manner Durran received his promotion to First Engineer.

Wheezing by the time he reached the transporter, he only just managed to speak the command to energize.

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

Both officers had faced the stony visage of an enraged Vergh before. Many Klingon warriors were like fire fanned by the flames of battle and warfare: Vergh was ice. When angry or embattled, the Captain became quiet, barking short precise orders and taking bold, forceful actions. He glared at his First Officer and Engineer, each feeling a cold chill race up their spines. He dismissively flipped each a small padd, uttering only two words.

"D'Decius"

"Leto"

The final word was broken into two slow, deliberate, venom-filled syllables. Vergh's one good eye shone with a ventictive, hate-filled manevolence - the milky, ruined one stared off into Cheron's blood-red twilight.

(OOC: Occurs just prior to the network defense grid coming up.)

"The Flash"
(The Rihannsu Tangent)

Kylar Curran
Chief Liaison Officer

Lt. (JG) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

****
Liaison Offices
Deck 17
****

Steven had been a Marine for all of his adult life, and though he had been to a great many locations, they were, for the most part, all visited in a combat situation. And then there was ch'Rihan, heart of the Rihannsu Empire.

He had never been there before, nor had many of his fellow Federation officers. He didn't really know their customs, procedures or their culture. And with a resolve to find the dead soldier's family, he had absolutely no idea where to start. So that was why he was here, outside this door.

The Office he now stood before looked like every other office on the ship. The door looked like the door of everybody's quarters as well. In fact, the only thing that distinguished it as being different was the name tag on the door. Simple and to the point, much, as Steven had heard, like it's owner, the name tag read "Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer".

Steven pressed the door chime and waited.

Within the inner chamber of the offices, where the Kelvan did his business, Kylar had begun to make headway in reducing the paperwork that had increased ten-fold since the arrival of the Jem`Hadar had increased the alert level of the individual crew and their immediate families that had been approved for transit with the Starfleet officers.

After having delegated away the majority of the complaints and grievances to the requisite staff members with the skills to match, the Liaison Officer had begun tidying up his remaining appointments so that he could transport to ch'Rihan to begin following up on the funeral arrangements in the vein of setting protocols for the Federation representatives who were attending the state funeral.

Upon hearing the chime, he was tempted to ignore it in the hopes the individual would leave, but then reminded himself that he needed to set precedent for his character if he were to convince Karyn Dallas and Starfleet Medical that he were fit for duty.

Crossing the threshold of his office, he turned to his right, verifying his personal rest area was locked and off-limits. Then, in moving through the variably designed (to suit the various more populous species represented on the Galaxy to the best of his ability) sitting area where he greeted visitors or dignitaries in a semi-formal manner, he depressed the door panel, allowing it to unlock and admit the visitor.

Curran did not recognize the humanoid, but identified him as a Marine, if his dark green collar was any evidence. He noted the rank pips on his collar.

"Yes, Lieutenant? I'm in a hurry. Is this important?"

As Steven looked at the Kelvan, he realized that he didn't know the first thing about him or his species. Clearing his throat, he spoke. "Legate, My name is Steven Jonas, a Marine in the Furies detachment. I was wondering if I could borrow a moment of your time?"

"Come." Stepping aside, he gave room for the being to step inside. "I have an appointment to keep in twelve minutes, Lieutenant. I suggest we put aside the pleasantries and get to the point. What is it?" The doors closed behind Jonas, and Curran moved past him to slip back into his offices.

Steven nodded. "Yes sir, I realize that you are very busy. It won't take a minute."

"You said it was a moment last time. Now a minute. Is your next comment going to be an hour? Eleven minutes, Lieutenant."

"Actually, now that you mention it..." Jonas started to joke with the Legate, but decided better of it. I have a matter that I need to address on ch'Rihan and I have absolutely no idea where to start. I was hoping you could help."

The Legate seemed to be a bit of a stuck in the mud, as the saying went, and Steven found himself disliking the man almost straight away. The rumors that he had heard since joining the crew were warranted it seemed. Steven just hoped he could get this over with quickly. Steven hated people who thought of themselves as high and mighty, and though his whole minute in the presence of Curran hadn't leant him to being it, he was fairly close, and he readily recalled the last time someone had been like that around him. It had cost him ten days in the brig.

"Ten minutes, Lieutenant. Or are you going to stand around and stare?"

"I need to know where I should go to to locate someone. And since I've never been here before, and the fact that I'm a grunt, " Steven smiled slightly. "I thought you might be able to point me in the right direction."

Curran came back out of the offices, stopping at the threshold to scrutinize the marine. He had no idea how much of a 'grunt' he was. Low on the evolution scale type. All humans were in his perception.

"That depends on a lot of factors. Species, wanted criminal, legitimate business-being...? It's a plentiful planet, Lieutenant. Large population, not a village."

"Well, I'm looking for the family of a Rihannsu soldier who was killed a little over ten years ago." Steven replied.

"The Rihannsu police forces would be a good start. Try them. They have a central headquarters in Ki Baratan. In the Dar'moth District."

Steven nodded. "Thank you sir. I'll leave you to get ready for your next appointment."

Curran nodded in acknowledgment, and returned to the rear offices, ostensibly to finalize whatever agendas he had remaining for the coming days.

With the Kelvan's final comment, he turned and headed for the door.

"Lieutenant." As Curran came around the mesh divider between the front salon and his private office, he called out to the Marine just as he had reached the exit. Jonas pivoted smoothly on heel to face him, his features smooth as stone. The Kelvan matched it.

"If the soldier was an officer, there may be some resistance to their releasing the information to a Federation representative due to security concerns. There is also the issue of the once divided fleet, and records could be obsolete, incomplete, or unavailable. You may have better luck going underground to obtain the information you need. It may not be difficult to locate others in his regiment. It's a fairly common fact that centurions both active and discharged can be bribed. They don't have a very effective benefit or retirement plan."

Steven nodded and turned for the door.

"If you're captured, the Federation will not sanction your actions. Now, time's up. I have a shuttle to catch." Curran brushed past the Lieutenant, triggering the sensors that would open the door, but he did not exit until the Marine was long gone. Instead, he waited at the portal, between bulkheads.

"Computer, douse lights. Institute away message Curran-2 upon entry request by all personnel."

[Acknowledged]

**** Jonas' Quarters Deck 16 ****

"I've been waiting almost ten years for this, so, thank you for accepting my request."

"You are welcome. We will contact you when we have found the information you seek." The Rihannsu woman said before ending the transmission.

The terminal went dead but for a moment before the normal "transmission ended" appeared.

Hopefully it wouldn't be long before they found his parents or brother/sister. Heck even an uncle or an aunt would do. Thanks to Lieutenant Roswell, he had come to see that it was the need to talk to the man's family that haunted his dreams, especially this past week.

Tugging at the edge of his shirt, Steven started disrobing. He was in need of a shower.

****
Ten Forward Lounge
Deck 10
****

Steven stepped into the lounge. It had only been about twelve hours since he had last been here drinking, and though he was going to have a drink, with the woman from engineering, Naranda, he didn't intend on drinking much. He now knew who he had to contact in order to find the family and had contacted the Rihannsu Ministry regarding the matter. Despite seeming a little up herself, the Rihannsu woman that he had conversed with had agreed to locate the family for him. And no doubt contact their local Intelligence division to investigate.

Steven scanned the room, looking for Naranda, and when he came up empty, ordered a drink and sat down at a table to await the Engineer.

Nara walked into the room and looked about for the man who had talked to her in Engineering. She had almost feared she hadn't paid enough attention when she spotted him and walked over to him. "Hello."

Steven looked away from the sight of the Rihannsu planet that filled the window and towards the Lieutenant. "Hi." He smiled in greeting and indicated the seat opposite.

Steven waved to draw the attention of the waitress before turning to Naranda. "I spoke to the Rihannsu Ministry and they are looking for the family now. Though I'm not sure what I'd say to them when I get the chance."

Nara had looked out the window as well. Curiosity filled her a moment before she turned her attention him, "Don't tell Commander Dallas that, she'll bring out a holographic dummy."

"Yeah, I guess I'll have to figure it out." Steven sipped the refreshing drink, savoring the taste. "Anyway, I doubt they'll find anything before tomorrow."

She finally sat down, "What's tomorrow or are you just in a rush?"

Steven shook his head. "Nope, no rush, just don't see the Romulans making a request for information by a Federation officer a top priority, that's all."

She nodded, "I doubt that myself."

"Have you met Mr Curran, the Liaison Officer?"

"Not extensively."

"He's quite a character. His personality could probably freeze your nuts off." Steven stopped. "Eh... perhaps that's something I shouldn't have said out aloud."

She smirked, "Well, it didn't offend me other than I don't have any to freeze off."

Steven chuckled. "I wasn't implying that you did."

The view out the window, which showed some orbital station in the corner, overlooked ch'Rihan, and shuttles could be seen coming and going between the station and the planet. Several looked like Federation shuttlecraft. No doubt people heading down to the planet to check the place out. In a few hours or a day, he too might be one of those people. Visiting the mother or father of the young deceased soldier.

Still, if it alleviated the nightmares he was having, then Steven would have found the way into the depths of Hades.

With his thoughts turning to the inhabitants of the heart of the Rihannsu empire, he didn't hear the Engineer speak and only turned his focus back to the table as she had finished. "Sorry. Did you just say..." He spied the waitress walking away. "You just gave her your order right?"

Nara nodded and looked at him concerned, "You ok?"

"Sorry. I was daydreaming about what it was like down there." He nodded slightly towards the planet.

Nara shrugged, "Likely cold."

Steven nodded. "And probably fairly dry, judging by those brownish areas to the north."

"When I was growing up, my sister taught me a lot about lots of places and races. I learnt about the Vulcans, my Trill ancestors, the Klingons and even the Ferengi, but I never learnt much about the Romulans."

"I think all we need to know is they're underhanded decievers." She said, letting another prejudice showing through.

Steven nodded in agreement. "So I've heard." He brought his glass up to his lips and drank. Setting it back down he spoke again. "Have you ever been down there?"

"No." She played with the rim of her glass.

"Would you like to accompany me?" He blurted out, almost hurriedly. On reflection, he didn't know why he had asked, but guessed that deep down he didn't want to visit the soldier's family alone. "I can't guarantee any excitement nor, depending on where his family lives, can I guarantee that you'll get to see the capital city. It's not often that a Federation starship will get to visit the Rihannsu Empire. So that makes it a once in a lifetime opportunity."

She looked at him strangely. She barely knew this man who had for some reason decided to trust her with such a delicate situation. "I'm just an engineer officially. I fought as a warrior on my home planet for awhile, so I suppose you need protection. Though, how much trouble we could get in if we get in trouble is what I'm concerned about. I came fairly close to a court martial once already."

"I got pretty close myself a few years ago. And what kind of trouble would you be looking at getting me into?" He smiled cheekily.

She shook her head, "Just don't make me break any laws and I think we'll be ok."

**** A Short time later ****

As the duo sat drinking, the planetary passive defense network came online as Arrain Yusef enabled the network. A bright flash could be seen as a shuttle, at its present distance from the Galaxy it was too hard to determine if it was one of the Galaxy's own shuttlecraft, hurtled towards the planet's surface, a trail of flames and smoke marking its progress.

"That doesn't look good" Steven said, as he gazed out the window.

Nara looked worried, "No it doesn't." She looked at him, "Still wanna go down there?"

Steven looked at her. "Um.. Yeah, but I think we need to find out what that was and what it means to travel to the planet first."

"You like dangerous adventures, don't you? Looks like you may need an engineer in case you start a landing pattern like that." Nods her head toward the window and stands.

"Lt. Raven Darkstar....Helm?!?!?"

The suprising next step in the evolution of the Meat Truck!

Featuring Lt. Raven Darkstar and completely unauthorized cameo appearences by Karyn Dallas of the Bridge crew, plus an unauthorized use of Cass Henderson - simply because I don't see Francis online and I want to establish the injun on the bridge.

Including a subspace visit from Bhrode for giggles.

Location: The Captain's Ready Room

Commander Cass Henderson scratched his chin. Since being elevated to Captain while Darren M'Kantu sorted out his legal issues, the space born, career officer had seen many questionable orders.

Orders that went against the grain of every Command instinct.

Orders that just raised the hackles on one's neck and screamed: "by Kirk's fiery loins!"

Few of them had given Henderson pause more then the current reassignment order he held in his hands.

"This can't be right." he thought to himself.

When the position of Chief Helm Officer opened up, naturally per Starfleet procedure, the records of all of the ship's personel were reviewed. According to the aptitude tests of those on the entire ship, cross referenced with Academy Scores, there was one officer on the ship with a significantly higher degree of probibility to succed as the next pilot of the ship then most others.

The chirping of the comm panel on his desk broke his thoughts and the aristocratic voice of LeRouche, the Captain's yeoman, announced an incoming call from Fleet Admiral Bhrode.

Henderson activated the newly installed viewscreen just to the left of his desk and the image of the grizzled former Captain of the USS GALAXY filled the screen.

Typical for Bhrode, he didn't bother to exchange pleasentries.

"Henderson. I see your looking for a pilot."

The look of mild suprise was evident upon Cass' face. Personell issues rarely, if ever made it past the walls of the Starship that had them. The Fleet Admiral somehow knew about a departmental vacency that had just sprung up on the GALAXY hours ago.

"To answer the question rolling around in that head of yours, my people are triple flagged. When someone pokes in thier files, I get the report on what was being looked at and for how long. Now let's talk about my indian." Bhrode said, his voice like gravel being ground under a boot heel.

::::: Captain's Ready Room, moment's later ::::

"Permission to speak freely, Admiral." Lt. Raven Darkstar rumbled as he stood before Henderson's desk, ramrod straight with his trademark scowl firmly in place upon his wethered face.

"You've got 60 seconds. Hawksley and Von Ernst are waiting to brief me on more mundane, yet classified workings of our current mission." the Admiral said, looking at his cronograph. "58 seconds..."

Having served under Bhrode previously on two occasions, Darkstar knew that the gray haired Fleet Admiral lothed seeing time waste, wither and expire. He cut straight to the quick.

"This must be a mistake. I am a warrior, not a pilot. I break things. Flying a starship much less leading the department...."

"Horseshit." Bhrode said, his disdain for being second guessed was so apparent, that it threatened to reach across space and physiclly attack Darkstar. "I saw your scores on the flight simms at the acadamy. You were the top five percent in your class. And that wasn't your major at the acadamy either. And lets not forget that you also manned the helm on the Talon when the Breen wanted to play games at the Nova Rosa Colony."

After being transferred from the USS GALAXY, Darkstar had been assigned to the position of Chief Tactical Officer aboard the Talon for a rescue mission of Knowlan Phall, a renowned astro physicist who had been allegedly working on Borg defence countermeasures.

The Breen had attacked Nova Rosa in full, capturing Phall, requiring then Captain Bhrode to mount a rescue mission. Darkstar had been forced to take over the helm when thier pilot was killed in the attack.

The indian's recollection of the ordeal didn't do much to ease his reservations. (No pun intended.) Seeing this, Bhrode pressed the issue.

"Now, Meat Truck I am not usually in the habit of having to explain myself but just this once I am goign to make an exception. You're one of mine. You. Von Erntst, Hawksley. Log. Bolivar. X'rex. You're a different breed then the rest of the lemmings that the Fleet is regurgitating out these days. You think fast and independently and you don't take shit when there's shit to be taken."

"The universe needs people like us to save thier asses when the wolves are knocking at the door. Wether you realize it or not, your command material. It's vital you know more then how to punch something and this will give you the chance to do that. You have worked Security, Ops and Tactical. This posting will round you out a little more."

"Fly the ship. Keep it in one piece. Save some lives. Take the Department and make it yours so that there is at least one department on that goddamn sideshow that runs perfectly. Thank me later. That's an order. Bhrode out." the Fleet Admiral barked, then just as suddenly as he appeared, his image winked out of existance.

Henderson stood, smoothed his tunic and gestured to the door.

"Any further questions, Leutennant?"

The mammouth indian growled deeply.

::: Main Bridge, USS Galaxy::::

"Mr. Darkstar...." Karyn Dallas called out from the Captain's Chair where she was serving while some of the crew was on an away mission to Cheron.

"Yes?" the man mountain roared.

"We... can not see the viewscreen." Karyn said diplomaticlly, pointing out that with Darkstar looming at the helm station, arms folded and standing in his traditional "at ease - yet still vigilant" position, he was blocking the view from the command nest.

"The view has not changed. We are still in orbit."

"I see." she said, trying to figure out a delicate and tactful way to get past her current dilemma. "Please feel free to use the chair by the helm station rather then standing all shift. It's a little easier on the legs."

"I once stood for three days. Your concern is appreciated, yet not warrented." he growled.

Karyn looked around the bridge and did her best to surpress a giggle.

Next: Darkstar holds a department meeting!

"Roomies"

Ens. Artim - Security officer
Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

(slight backpost)

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

The thought of being on a Romulan ship so soon after what had happened at Tru'haran had been enough to get Artim a bit jittery. The fact that he had to live on one and under these circumstances was enough to really freak him out. He still had no clue why he was picked to go to Cheron, but the people with three and four pips on their collars must of had their reasons. There was one thing though he couldn't figure out, why the hell after asking for their help did they stick the Galaxy crew in small double rooms? After seeing the cramped quarters and unpacking a bit, the prospect of sharing this much space with anyone was troubling for Artim who had been used to huge rooms all his life, aside from the academy. What could be any worse?

The door opened, and 8-ball walked through. "Good God," she said outloud, looking at the small quarters around her. "They weren't exactly generous with their room space, were they?"

Then she noticed that she wasn't alone in the quarters. The little kid doc. . .oh, not a doc anymore, right. . .was in there. She was slightly disappointed she wasn't paired up with anyone six feet tall and with a good chest, but hey, what were you going to do?

"Oh, it's you," 8-ball said to Artim. "Hiya roomie. What's shaking?"

Now he knew how it could get worse. He had to room with 8-ball. Oh he'd heard about her, it was one of the benefits of being in sickbay, you were in one of the the hubs of the rumor mill. Everything he'd heard about the science officer was scary. Very scary.

"Other then me and the deckplates when this thing tries to move, not much. You would think the Rommies would give us better rooms since they asked for our help. "

"I don't know that Romulans were ever known for their generosity," 8-ball said drily, thinking of Vrih for not the first time that day. "On the other hand, it could be worse. We could be on a ship full of Ferengi. They'd probably have packaged and sold our body parts away by now." She noticed that Artim did not entirely look amused, and that on the whole, he seemed a little unimpressed with his draw of roomies.

8-ball raised one eyebrow at the kid. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"That's not it, you just have something of a reputation. I'm never one to judge someone based on what other people say, but ya know, can't help but wonder. Besides, I've had a hell of alot worse in both roomates and accomodations. That Coven ship for instance...horrible. Anyway, I guess we gotta manage, right?

"Yeah," 8-ball said with an amused smile. "We'll manage. Besides, as far as my reputation goes, it's really not. . .oh, who am I kidding? It's probably all true. But I promise, in fact, I do solemnly swear, not to get up and molest you in the middle of the night. You're a little. . .short. . .for my type." She stuck out one hand with a huge grin on her face. "Friends?"

"Well that's one less thing to worry about." Arim replied, though he wasn't entirely confident that she would keep her promise. The scary thing is he kinda...liked her. He stuck out his hand and shook the hand offered to him.

"I suppose. Lets just make it through this trip and then we'll see about getting me that post in Xenobiology that's been open for awhile." , Artim said with an equally large grin

"Seriously. . .what post in Sciences HASN'T been open for awhile," 8-ball said drily. "I probably run the smallest science department on any ship in the Federation. Which works out for me, in a way, because I'm not exactly the Galaxy's most equipped department head, but still, it might be nice to actually have people show up every now and then. I should put out an ad or something. You think if I said something like 'Position open in Sciences. Has to have SOME form of basic knowledge in science and not mind working for a sexaholic half-Vulcan'. . .you think that'd do the trick?"

"That and perhaps turning it down a tad on the job. Might also help to have someone on your staff that doesn't care about sex because he won't be able to have it for 300 years would help." Artim grinned as he dropped a not so subtle hint that he wanted the job. This yellow uniform was getting kinda annoying and to be honest he'd rather be in the lab then the armory. "Still, there are probably those who would work for you. "

"Well, maybe we can do a formal interview later," 8-ball said. "Right now, I don't want to work. I wanna play. Wanna explore a bit, see if we can get into any trouble?"

"Hmm,.creating more trouble when there's already a tense situation...sounds interesting. There should be some kind of lounge on this thing...with some Romulan Ale..." The juvenile part of him was kicking in. Yeah he'd regret it later...but they were on a Roumlan ship and that did have its advantages.

"Romulan Ale is always a plus," 8-ball said with a big grin. "Let's see how much of a tolerance you've built up in three hundred years."

"Sounds good, shall we?" Artim replied gesturing for the door.

"We shall," 8-ball said, and they did.

"Communicating"

2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

"Commander Vaebn." Branwen called out after the briefing. "If you have a moment, I would like to talk to you some more before the mission starts." She gestured towards a small hut that she had made into her private quarters for the time being."

Vaebn nodded. "Certainly, Lieutenant." He made his way towards the hut London indicated. It wasn't unexpected that she would want to speak to him. It was indeed likely that she knew that he worked for Rihannsu Naval Intelligence, despite his cover as a Rihannsu Marine. Mind you, Vaebn felt that there were probably several Federation Intelligence operatives here on Cheron gathering data on his own people. And, of course, the Remans.

Not that he minded in the least. He loved all the cloak and dagger stuff. It was what he was good at; what he had done for much of his life. It was what he would do until the day he died.

As he reached the hut, he stopped and waited for the Lieutenant to enter first. It was after all her hut and protocol, at least the marine protocol that he was pretending to follow dictated that he wait.

Branwen went inside and sat down behind the tiny desk.

"So, what would you like to talk about?"

"Your presence at the mission." She said smiling. "We'll be taking any crew with you, for starters?" She motioned for him to sit on the rickety folding chair.

Vaebn eyed the chair with trepidation. It barely looked strong enough to stand on its own, let alone support the weight of anyone. Still, out of respect for the Lieutenant he sat down, carefully. He found it to be fairly stable despite its appearance. Looking up at the marine, he could sense fear in the woman. Actually no, it was more like nervousness. He doubted that she had commanded many missions before. This might even be her first. And Vaebn knew first hand that nervous commanders caused unnecessary deaths. And he planed on avoiding death while with the Starfleet unit. So he chose his words carefully.

"At present, I am the only Rihannsu marine assigned to your F..." He stumbled over the word, "... Furies... while on Cheron." He knew that having multiple Rihannsu among the unit would add more pressure and potentially lead to trouble.

"All right." Branwen tried to lean back in her bad chair. "And what exactly will your role be during this mission. With nervous soldiers around I don't want any surprises." She looked straight at him.

"All I was told by my commander was that I was to join your unit while you were on Cheron and assist with any diplomatic issues that might arise during your stay. She felt that having Remans, Klingons and Federation people on the planet at the same time was a ticking bomb waiting to explode."

Bran smiled. "I agree. But why join our small mission? We are only one of many and I don't anticipate much trouble. At least not much interaction with the locals." She said.

Young and inexperienced though she seemed to be, Vaebn could tell that the human female before him was trying to interrogate him via the standard 'ask lots of questions' method. He didn't mind. In fact, his superior had confided in him that his being there was unnecessary due to the Warbird in orbit that could make all the scans of the Federation forces that it needed and as such, trying to hide his role was unnecessary. "Come now, you know why I am really here. I shouldn't need to explain it to you." He stated matter of factly.

"No you don't." She didn't flinch or anything.

"And I have no doubt that your Starfleet superiors would do exactly the same thing if the roles were reversed and we were visiting a planet in Federation space."

"You are probably right." She was relaxing a little bit. "I just want to make sure that this mission goes ahead without any problems."

Vaebn smiled. "You won't get any problems from me. If that's what you are thinking. And as you get to know me, you'll find that I'm not your typical Romulan."

"I hope so." Bran smiled back. "I really hope so. I promise to start with an open mind." She came to her feet again. "Time to get ready to move."

"Facing The Fire"

Lt. Cmdr. Brianna O'Shea
Lt. Ella Grey
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Lt (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Lt Jiiles (NPC - written by Dru)
Ensign Marcus Slayton

:: Engineering Briefing Room, USS Galaxy ::

Anna had sat in her office for what seemed like forever. She couldn't bring herself just yet to go in there and face those faces that had worked so closely with the clone. Would they accept her presence now giving them orders? Would they turn on her, and lean toward Ella and Dhani who had become very strong leaders in the engineering department? Those were only a few things that played in Anna's mind. Slowly she stood up and gathered her data padd. Moving through the doors she headed for the briefing room. Each step brought more and more fear into her mind until finally, she paused outside the doors and collected her thoughts.

When the doors opened and she strolled into the room; she didn't look at their faces the way the clone did. She looked down, she was thin, very thin, compared to how the clone had looked. "Thank you for coming." Anna said standing at the table, her voice was weak, not quiet as strong as her clone's. "Sorry to keep you all waiting... are we ready to begin?" She asked, finally looking up. The hollow dark ringed eyes now looking at the faces who starred back at hers.

Nara had looked down seeing the woman enter. She still held anger for the clone, and though this woman wasn't the clone, it was a reminder. Beyond that, the woman looked like death warmed over. Twice.

This was a weird situation. Michael felt his body become tense as he saw O'Shea walk in. It was difficult to shed the image of her being the one who placed all the booby traps that created havoc on the ship. He followed her all the way, from the door to where she kept standing at the table. Though Michael wouldn't admit it, he was still feeling wary towards her.

Ella looked over at the woman and gave a friendly smile but frowned on the inside. O'Shea looked like she was about to keel over and that wouldn't do. She made a mental note to find something for the woman to eat once the briefing was over and then nodded. "I think we're all ready, Chief."

At the back of the room Jiiles pulled out a tray from the replicator. Moving towards the table he set it down, "Coffee's up folks." He announced in a cheerful voice as if nothing at all was different. He smiled brightly at everyone as he sat down.

Nara looked at him as if he were insane. Had O'shea not come back looking like a skeleton; had she not been the original of a clone that booby trapped the ship; had Nara not been fighting guilt over dreading the woman being back, then maybe, maybe his attitude would seem normal. Now it just seemed like he walked in, clueless. She was sure he knew about this and wondered how he could act happy.

Marcus silently slipped into the office with a look on his face of calm panic while the look in his eyes was that of sheer panic, he wanted to bolt but since this was a department meeting, he had to be there. He stayed in the very back and crossed his arms over his chest, He simply stayed quiet and hoped that no one would notice him unless he needed to.

"I believe I could use a cup, Mister Jiiles." Anna said as she glanced at Ella and nodded. Looking up she then caught sight of Slayton at the back and realized he was the one the clone had been engaged to. She looked down for a moment, unsure of what to say to him and not wanting to make a scene right now. "I've taken some time to look over the most recent reports filed by members of this department." She said, her Irish accent seemed to be almost like a song coming from her.

"You are all a testament to dedication and strength. To have you all assembled here to work with me makes my job easy and myself blessed." Anna said as she looked around, again she couldn't force herself to look at certain members, like Nara and Slayton who clone had either fought with repeatedly or was engaged to.

Once Jiiles brought her cup and sat it down she nodded as he walked back to take his seat. Anna wasn't sure she could drink it, her stomach still gave her fits. "We need to focus our attention on the holodecks. They need to remain offline until each program has been checked. We might can do a diagnostic to see which programs the...." she paused and swallowed hard. "To see which programs the clone used or altered, possibly even test to see which programs she... it, linked together."

Nara had softened a bit at the unabashed praise, but the mention of the clone set her jaws to the point she was clenching her teeth. She pursed her lips tightly to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. She finally brought herself to speak, though still seething with bitterness, "Maybe we should remove all new programs and reset defaults. Or just take out the data chip altogether and put in a new one. If anyone absolutely needs to keep something, we can use one holodeck to isolate and remove any bugs from those."

"Please don't get me wrong," Jiiles said leaning his elbows on the table, "but the holodecks should be the last thing on our minds." He pulled out a couple of data pads that he had concealed in the waste band of his uniform, "We have already begun to go through the main systems," he said sliding the padd's across the table to O'Shea, "all the current data is on those. But there are still several major systems that we need to go through, and then of course the minor ones." He looked round at the faces at the table and sighed, "I know to most of you the hollodecks are the be all and end all of your existence but they really aren't that important. They are after all for recreational use and yes I know I'm possibly a little bias given what happened to us. me rather, last time I was in one. If the marines or anyone else needs them for training exercises they can convert a cargo bay instead, or use the gym. At least then they aren't going to get blown up, attacked by the Borg, burnt to a crisp or frozen."

Ella felt a slight pang at the idea of having Indigo's program wiped out but knew that Samantha and her would be able to rewrite the program, possibly even better. "I'm for exchanging it for a clean one all together. But I don't think the holodeck is a threat to us, outside of people getting trapped in there with the safety off. I'm more concerned about the life support systems and the core."

Nara sighed. She had responded to O'shea's voiced concern and now the whole freaking department said the priorities were wrong. She pursed her lips again, looking at a PADD, not caring there was nothing on the display.

At the last half of Jiiles' comment, Marcus let his "professional" face down to allow a very dark look to be aimed at the bolian engineer before he forced himself to put it back up and he gently and absently started to rub the scar on his left arm from the said "Holodeck Adventure" that he and Jiiles was apart of.

"What if the holodecks are a branch of the main problem?" We can't just give up one angle to focus on something else. We have to look at *ALL* of the angles at once." Marcus said in a calm voice from his spot in the room while looking at Jiiles before shifting his gaze to Brianna. He nodded respectfully towards her and said "Chief, what do you think?"

"I think at this point we all need to be concerned with every system, both major and minor. After what I've read and what I know is possible to be done on a Starship of this magnitude... we need to be concerned." Anna stated, as she looked around though not looking at any one person. Swallowing she sat down finally, her legs felt as if they were about to give way. "Reason I focused on holodecks is that's where I would focus my sabotage... but Jiiles is right to." Anna said as she pondered what she would do.

"Ella," She said then glanced at her friend. "Assemble a ten man team of junior officers and enlisted... their duty is to continue to work on the holodecks. Make sure they understand to keep all holodeck and research and development suites offline." Anna said as she kept her hands under the table since they were trembling.

"Jilles, Michael and Marcus... you three will began to look into the environment controls and life support. I want level one diagnostics done on ever relay and grid." Anna said as her hollow eyes looked at their direction.

"Ella, Nara and I will focus on looking into the core." She said then paused. "I need someone to do some research, who do we have that's good at sifting through computer records and reports?" Anna asked, anyone could answer.

Nara tried to keep the dread from her mind as she realized she would work with O'Shea. Oh joy. Then at the question, she looked over to Mei who looked at her questioningly. Nara nodded for her to speak up.

Mei gulped and raised her hand, "Ma'am?"

Nara nodded approvingly before looking back down at her PADD.

Ella was about to speak when a lieutenant practically barreled into the briefing room. "Sir," He sputtered, looking at Ella and then O'Shea. "We've got a BIG problem."

Nara looked up and over at the new body that entered the room. She stood up, not really thinking about it, ready to run to whatever.

Before Anna or Ella could say anything to the male lieutenant, the far wall display changed from active LCARS to a number, 7200, then it began to tick down and flash. Soon all screens in the room were showing the ticking down numbers as they flashed in a greenish hue.

"That.." the man said. "We don't know what it is, but it's showing up on most of the ships displays and it's ticking down." He said.

Anna stood and looked at it. "What's it ticking down to?" Anna asked.

"We don't know.."

"Shit." It was softly muttered from Nara's lips. Without permission, without thinking, she went toward the nearest console.

"May I make an observation?" Jiiles asked, "In my experience anything that starts counting down, is counting down to one big bang!" he watched Nara as she began to tap frantically at a console, trying in vein to get some clarification from the system as to what the hell was going on. Jiiles turned slowly to O'Shea, "Chief," he began tenderly, "everything that the clone did was to disable us in some way or harm the crew, mainly the captain. I think that she meant to destroy us all. This is her last attempt."

His eyes glazed over as he thought about that possibility; being blown up into tiny pieces by an angry clone. The only person that went through his mind was Dhanishta. How would she feel coming back from her mission to Cheron to find the crew dead? Part of him chuckled grimly as he remembered that it wouldn't be the first time for her. How would she take it? He knew that she still had feelings for him, it was obvious after what happened the other night, but she had made her decision. No matter how much he wished that it was different, it wasn't going to be. She made her bed, she could lie in it. If she came back and found them all dead and regretted not spending the time she had with him, then it would be on her conscious. Still he would rather not die.

"Chief?" he questioned looking up at O'Shea with pleading eyes.

"This briefing is over... we've got work to do. I want eye and computer checks on ever plasma conduit and especially the warp core. I want internal sensors reconfigured to scan for anything that could be considered a bomb, check the marines and security and find out if their missing anything that could be explosive." Anna said her hands still but only cause they were resting on the table.

"Get everyone down that isn't on duty... now." Anna said looking around.

Was it just him or were things happening in fast forward? In the last moments before everyone left for their duties he thought of something. "Chief, maybe this sounds obvious, but it doesn't have to be a real bomb. We need to include suspicious algorithms, sub-routines - all of that - to see if 'It' programmed, for example, a chain reaction of events that leads to a serious malfunction in a critical system."

"That's why we have to check everything..." Anna stated and knew the size of that task. "Lets get it done.." Anna said then reached up and tapped her commbadge.

"O'Shea to the bridge... be advised, we have a problem and we are working on it." She said then closed the channel.

"Freak"

[slight backpost, sorry! It happens the day before the Marines leave the ship]

Kale
ppc counselor

Branwen
Marine Counselor

Branwen knew she had to relax more, Kimberly was already breathing down her neck. So she had come to the gym not to do our usual workout but to do some meditation exercises. Maybe this time it would work, usually she lasted about 30 seconds and then shopping lists would pop up in her head. Today she was really going to make an effort.

So the Marine sat down on her exercise mat, took a couple of deep breaths closed her eyes and started to meditate. Two minutes later a series of Welsh curses could be heard coming from her general direction.

Kale had just came into the gym and paused when he heard some words he didn't understand. Turning his attention toward Branwen he moved over to her to see shew as trying to meditate. "Meditation doesn't visit you today?" He asked.

"Mediation doesn't know where I live it seems." Branwen came to her feet. "I think I will go over to the punching bag and give that a try, much more satisfying."

"If you would like I can try and help you find it... since it doesn't find you?" Kale asked, standing there.

She looked at him and grinned. "Before you offer, you are not the first. Nobody has succeeded so far to teach me. One meditation teacher even ran away screaming after trying. So I will not hold against you if you back off. We could always spar instead. Now that is a good way to get rid of some aggression."

"Good... then I have something of a challenge." Kale stated then sat down. "Sit... facing me." He said as he got into position. He sat indian style, his palms resting on his legs until she sat down just as he did. Bringing his hands up he interlaced his fingers with hers and starred into her eyes. "I want you to focus on something you... something outside of your work.. something away from your regulary duties.. Focus on it and take me to that place.. Describe it for me... slowly." kale said as he watched her.

She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. "I am thinking about home.. The beach behind our house... the beach was a special colour, the sand almost red. On one side behind it dunes. On the other the Irish Sea, blue green, peaceful. Inside I am not peaceful, I am so angry." She whispered.

Using his telepathy Kale entered Branwen's mind. The feeling she got was a soothing feeling. LIke that of a cherished old friend. His image was almost like a astral projection beside hers on the red sandy beach. He found feel the tension from her insides and in her hands as their hands remained locked.

Inside her mind he brought his hand up and held it before her face. "The anger is what is blocking you." He told her, "release the anger to me, focus your anger and release it, Bran." He said, and by her own will his mental projection of himself shifted into the form Jebidiah Baile. Kale released at this point, Baile was what was holding her so tight, Bran had to learn to release it.

Thinking of Baile, her nemesis Bran suddenly lashed out with her mind. Her brain projected all the anger and frustration on the other person.

Kale was his with something that was not human in orgin. His head turned to the side and his hands broke contact with Branwen. Resisting the urge 'strike' back in self defense he turned his face toward that of the woman and looked at her. "You are a laden empath... aren't you?" Kale asked.

"Of course not." Branwen said. Who had no idea of what she had just done, or her own families background. "It's just Baile." She shivered.

"No... it is not just Baile.. you are a laden empath." Kale said as he looked at her. "Untrained, but you are what I know you to be."

Bran laughed nervously. "How can that be? I am human, my family are xenophobes. Believe me Kale, I cannot be an empathy." But there had been strange incidents over the years. Not often, but now and then things happened that she could not explain. And she knew the same was true for her elder sister Shanna.

"You have some form of telepath... I touched your mind." Kale stated. "I would suggest you get you tested for Betaziod geno-DNA. Not sure how what precentage you are, but you are a laden empath, Bran."

"Betazoid..." she could not get her mind around that. "It could never be, you don't understand. None of my ancestors could possibly have had anything to do with aliens. It is really not possible. Can't it be something else, or maybe you were wrong. I have been told that I am very stubborn." She tried to make a joke.

"I've come to the conclusion in my work that people use the word stubborn in place of not wanting to face change or fear." Kale said. "I'm a full telepath, I think I have the authority to know a emapth when I touch their mind." He said running his temple. "You have betazoid in you or you have been genetically altered... you aren't a telepath, but I strongly believe you are a emapth."

She sat there for the longest time trying to take it all in. "If... I say if you are telling me the truth. What does that mean for me?" Branwen looked at him the confusion clear on her face.

"It would depend on what you want to do with the information. You can do nothing and remain as you are, or you can learn to use your ability and develop your empathy. I'd say even now you know it pretty well. Tell me, do you often feel as if you know how the other person is feeling?"

She had to think for a while again before answering him. Not often, I can surmise a lot from watching people, body language but we learn that in school. Yet once in a while I get these flashes, it's not often. Maybe five or six times a year. One time I can see exactly what somebody is thinking, another time I can do impossible things like move obstacles." She shivered. "To be honest it is pretty frightening to me. Because I don't know where it comes from, and I totally cannot control it when it happens." It was the first time she had talked about it honestly.

"That's cause you've never been trained." Kale said then looked at her. "You need to find someone that can help you learn the ways and means of being a e mpath."

"Could you do that?" She asked. "My sister is totally going to freak when I tell her." Branwen was still a little dazed.

Kale smiled. "I'm sure a lot in your family would. I can do it, but you need to understand what it means. I will be in your mind, I will see things you might not want me to see. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Honestly?" She looked at him. "I don't know. It scares me. But... what happens if I don't learn how to deal with it." She bit her lip.

"If you don't understand your own self, how can you calm to understand and help anyone else?" Kale asked.

"I guess not." She looked straight at him. "I would not be able to hide anything from you?"

Kale shook his head. "I'm afraid not." Kale said.

Branwen swallowed. He would see everything. The terrible abuses of her childhood and loneliness. The insecurity she still felt from time to time. I drive to be a good marine, and the pain that Baile didn't see her that way. And the love she still felt for Saul. But on the other hand, if this thing got out of control it could damage her career. And Branwen was a very ambitious young woman. "You wouldn't tell anybody, would you?" She just said.

Kale smiled. "I'm bound by confidentiality and my office, Bran. What I see will not been known to another. You should know that this goes both ways. You will see things inside my mind, thoughts and things that others don't know."

"Really? So you would have to trust me as well." Despite the fear she was getting intrigued as well. "I guess... I guess I have to do this for myself and my patients. When do you want to start?"

"We can begen fresh tomorrow... soon I help you learn to help you the sooner you will find your true personality." Kale said then smiled.

"Thank you." Bran said. "I might be going on mission soon though so it might have to be after that.' She said with regret.

"That'll be fine... I'll be here when you are ready." Kale said then smiled.

"Thank you. I will contact you as soon as I am back." She promised.

“Don’t Look Back” Part One

Primary Characters;

Lieutenant (jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer

& Lieutenant Jiiles, engineering officer (NPC)

[Set after ‘Welcome Home O’Shea P 2’, 3 days after the end of the ‘Here Be Pirates’ Arc, and 2 days before the start of ‘Open Fist’]

***Observation Lounge***

The observation lounge was deserted, like a town out of an old western movie staring John Wayne, all that was needed now was a brush ball to role across the room and the eeriness would be complete.

It was five minutes to four in the morning, and even though he had only been here for ten, it felt like an eternity. Even his hands shook slightly in anticipation of this meeting, and he still wasn’t sure that she would come. He was nervous and scared and hopeful all at the same time; made him sick to his stomach. Behind him through the huge windows the stars sparkled, the only illumination in the room.

His ears pricked up as he heard the gentle hiss of the door opening. He stood up, a nervous smile creeping across his face. She was graceful, even in her entrances, the gentle swaying of her hips as she walked was emphasised by the light from the corridor as it created a halo around her, casting her elegant silhouette across the floor. Her long dark hair shimmered in the light as the door closed behind her, her features now indistinguishable as the darkness enveloped the room once more.

“I’m surprised you came.” he said approaching her cautiously.

“Not as much as I am.” she replied flatly stopping several feet away from him. She looked around the room in distaste and folded her arms across her chest.

She thought that maybe he would have given up by now, but yet again she received *another* message from him asking to ‘talk’. That word just filled her with a fury. Half of the time Jiiles was okay to be around, he was a colleague, and she treated him as such, and for some reason her ‘professional’ approach towards him (as in being civil) gave him hope. Whenever she was around him she could feel his eyes on her, feel his continued determination. If she wasn’t too preoccupied surviving this existence, it might just have been sweet.

He paused in his advance, noting her guarded body-language, “Then why did you?” he questioned tentatively.

“I guess because I was afraid that you would become my stalker.” she replied sarcastically cocking her head to one side, casting him a scornful look. She just wanted him to forget, forget that they were ever together. Why couldn’t he just put it behind him? Why did he continue this stupid need to talk? Didn’t he understand that it would just hurt them both?

“You mean like how I kinda already am?” he smiled nervously and took another tender step towards her. Trying to make light of the situation and introduce some humour, he added; “How I keep popping up when you least expect me? That sort of thing?” his audience however did not seem amused.

“Yeah,” she replied shifting her weight from one foot to the other, sighing in annoyance, “the messages and the constant out of hour calls,” she began to tick off each ‘offence’ on her fingers, “the harassing in the corridors, the fact that you visit my quarters on a regular basis and just loiter outside, how you keep on at me whilst I am working…..” she stared at him with cold eyes as her hand returned to its former position, “You know I could have you arrested for that.”

He was both shocked and surprised that she knew he had been outside her quarters, he was sure that no one has seen him…“I could have you arrested for using telekinetics and throwing me against the wall!” he countered defensively, lurching forward in his stance to punctuate his point, “That constitutes as a psionic attack, and you’re lucky that you’re not in the brig right now!” he added his voice pitching slightly.

Even though he tried to come off as the big boy with threats of ‘jail time’ Dhani could see right through him. Even with her not so favourable track record anyone could see that she was acting out of self defence, especially when combined with the harassment. “You should learn to listen.” she said scathingly.

“And you should learn to trust me!” Jiiles shouted back, hurt.

She had been about ready to end this discussion with her last comment and storm off, even though she knew that wouldn’t be the end of it; he would pursue her till the end of time itself! But as his words resonated in the empty room she felt something inside. She didn’t want to admit it, but that word moved her.

Trust.

It was a word that was so often over-used. A powerful word. In fact she was trusted every day to do her job; keep the ship running and she, similarly, trusted others to keep her safe on the ship. But that word had never been directed at her, at least not in an accusing tone as it was now, and all she felt was the need to be defiant, and forced in that split second to ask herself why she felt that way.

With all the things that she had been seeing lately, all the things she had been remembering rather, and the things that she had done, she was not compelled to trust anyone; she didn’t even trust herself. The notion itself brought up the feeling of betrayal, a bitter painful feeling that twisted in her gut. And so she stared at him, without a come back or a snide remark, there was nothing she could counter with.

Jiiles swallowed hard, pushing his feelings down inside him. Part of him wanted to shout at her for being such a bitch. The other half was trying desperately to be as soft as possible, he had no idea what she had been through, and she had come, finally, and they were talking, in a manner of speaking. And he knew that the slightest mistake would make her run. He couldn’t be angry with her, no matter how he felt at her unfair treatment of him, he couldn’t shout at her; he just couldn’t stand to see her run from him, not any more, it just hurt too much.

A minuet had passed and she was still standing there. Two minuets and she was still standing there! Revelation! Had he outwitted her? No, no, no, he couldn’t gloat there wasn’t time to get side tracked.

“Sit.” he instructed.

“I’m not a dog.” she replied quickly, eyeballing him. She was still somewhat fazed by the fact that she was without a come back and not realising, she slowly crossed the room and slunk into a chair, almost in a state of shock.

Ignoring her comment Jiiles sat down opposite her, instinctively he went to take her hand but pulled himself back. Dhani hadn’t noticed the slip up; she was staring at the table; lucky for him. He wasn’t sure what she would do right now if he touched her. She might smack him into next week, or leave the room, probably both. Either way the point of the meeting would be lost.

“I’m glad you came.” he said softly leaning forward slightly to gain eye contact.

“Really.” She said tonelessly, “Why?” she asked refusing to meet his gaze. Instead she focused on her nails and began to pick at them.

He couldn’t deny that her dismissive attitude hurt him, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on, “Because I want to explain a few things to you.”

“If this is going to be a tale of your life story and how you are the way you are I’m out of here right now.” she said her palms already flat on the table ready to push herself up and get the hell out as quickly as possible.

“NO!” he said grabbing her wrist. She was fast and was using any reason to get out of here and this situation, no mater how small. “Please stay.” he begged.

Tension filled the room, it was tangible; hostile. Dhani’s eyes were focused directly on the blue hand that was wrapped around her wrist. She stared at it with pure hatred. Slowly her eyes drew upwards to meet his; she raised an eyebrow.

Her look conveyed an entire sentence, and he didn’t need to be a telepath to hear it. Quickly he released her and retracted his arm, forcing his hands into his lap, hiding them under the table. “Sorry.” he mumbled staring at the table like a child who had thrown his dinner on the floor.

Another sixty seconds passed in silence.

Slowly with punctuated discord, she sat back down. Leaning back in the chair she crossed her legs and folded her arms. Her eyes locked on to his form, her lips were pursed as she stared at him venomously.

He shifted un-comfortably in her gaze. As if he wasn’t nervous already! He could feel his skin prickle as sweat began to ooze out of his pores. His eyes scanned the table and his fingers twitched in his lap as he tried desperately to work out what to say. He had wanted to talk to her for so long, he had so much that he wanted, needed to tell her. And now he had his chance, but in all his planning and rehearsing it had never been under these circumstances. How could you have a meaningful conversation, really put yourself out there, when the person you were trying to connect with looked at you with hatred? He could hear her shifting impatiently in the chair opposite him, hear her breathing as she huffed at his reluctance.

He cursed himself as his eyes filled. Did she even have a clue as to how much her reaction towards him hurt, physically hurt him? The aching in his chest amplified as he swallowed a rising lump in his throat.

“I love you.” He said finally in a grating whisper.

“Oh please!” she remarked scathingly her eyes narrowing on him as she stood up.

For a change he didn’t jump up to stop her, his misty gaze remained fixed on the table, “Why do you dismiss me so much?” he asked.

She didn’t make any attempt to respond as she crossed the room.

“I asked you a question dam it!” Jiiles shouted thumping his fist on the table.

Dhani jumped at the sound and stopped in her tracks. She felt her heart rate increase as she stood in the darkness, feeling his eyes on her back and the thumping in her chest.

Jiiles bit his lip as his own anger and pain clashed inside him. Swivelling in the chair to face her, he stood up purposefully, forcefully; the chair fell back and clattered loudly on the mettle floor.

Dhani flinched as she heard the noise. She wasn’t sure what he had done, what he had thrown across the room. Although nothing had hit her, yet, and nothing had crashed into the wall in front of her, so she hadn’t been a target; at least not for that object. She could feel adrenaline flowing through her as she stood routed to the spot, was she scared? She wasn’t sure, though her hands were shaking, was she angry?

“Is that it?” Jiiles questioned aggressively.

Dhani clenched, she couldn’t see him but n